THROWBACK THURSDAY: Philately Will Get You Everywhere

Back in early 2021, when I was indulging in research for whatever my fantasy roleplaying game idea of the moment was, I found myself drawn back to the wonderful workings of the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett.

While I'm sure many of you are already aware of the official Discworld Emporium, a recent email from there caught my eye, promoting a new set of Discworld stamps from the The Ankh-Morpork Post Office (AMPO).

The souvenir set, for the Year of The Beleaguered Badger, was only only a fiver, with very reasonable shipping fees, and I immediately thought these would be a great addition to my 'cabinet of curiosities' (but, most definitely, not the start of a 'fantasy philately' hobby).

Upon ordering, the stamps arrived incredibly swiftly, but the fun started even before I opened the envelope.

Check it out above, and marvel at the dedication to verisimilitude: it even came with AMPO stamps on the envelope, and 'in universe' franking.

Inside, the receipt for the purchase of my stamps was also a miniature work of art, from The Thieves' Guild:

As a child in the '70s, I was never really into 'stamp collecting', although I do remember owning an album with a random selection from around the globe stuck in.

However, I have to admit that adding the whole magical Discworld angle to the hobby does make it feel rather more appealing, more 'on brand' for me.

Of course, the more I dug into the stamp section of the Emporium's website, the more dangerous (to my wallet, and possibly my sanity) I realised this rabbit hole was becoming.

Anyway, here's a better look at the selection of stamps that I got from the website, as I'm too nervous to open my own packet, for fear of losing or damaging one, or all, of them:

INSPIRATION! INSPIRATION! INSPIRATION!

Although I sometimes feel a bit of a heathen, the majority of my inspiration for gaming is visual (e.g. movies, TV, comics etc), which is why I have a soft spot for art books.

As much as I enjoy reading, ultimately it's "the pictures" that more often hook me into a particular narrative or environment.

While not in the slightest artistically gifted myself, a great piece of art sets my creative neurons firing, giving me a new window into the current fantasy setting of choice - generally one of my own creation for whatever roleplaying game I'm "into" at that moment.

As we speak, I'm really hungry to play (run?) a swords-and-sorcery roleplaying game, which is why my comic book pull-list is increasingly filled with titles that either land squarely in that genre or, at least, have some tangential connection.

Yes, I have many comics, graphic novels, omnibuses etc, along with a broad library of movies and TV shows that scratch that particular itch, but there's always room for the straight-forward art book, with erudite commentary.
 
Thus, this week, I've acquired a second-hand, hardback copy of Paul Kidby's The Art of Discworld and the brand new, just-published softback edition of The Book of Jusko.

Joe Jusko's striking artwork can be seen on the covers of sword-and-sorcery, sword-and-planet, horror and superhero comics, as well as paperback novels, calendars etc

You can open either of these tomes at a random page and be swept away to another world, which is exactly the kind of extra fuel I need to keep the mental fires of my fantasy gaming dreams from fizzling out.

ADVENTURE HOOK: A Town Called Abracadabra

Working my way chronologically through the original Twilight Zone episodes, courtesy of the Legend channel, this week I came upon a fourth season story, Valley of Shadow, that - superficially - reminded me of another old - but not so old - show, A Town Called Eureka (aka Eureka).

Both concerned hidden communities where "weird science" held sway as a result of their particular backstories.

This got me to thinking about how to employ such a locale in a fantasy RPG setting.

How much of a headache would it be for a Games Master if the player-characters stumbled across a secret community of eccentric magicians all working on developing new spells and potions... and even trying to create magical items?

I'm not talking about an Unseen University, Aretuza, or Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy "school" for magic, but a hothouse environment where geniuses of the sorcerous arts strive to take their science to the next level and push the boundaries of what is possible.

Would that concentration of magical energy in one space warp the fabric of reality?

Throw in some kind of "magical mishaps"  rule - either official or homegrown, depending on your system of choice - and you have a recipe for joyous chaos.