A setting for Risus: The Anything RPG

Preface

Murphy's World is very, very unlike our own world.

First of all, the history of Murphy's World has decided to hate parallel development and thus move at a different pace depending where you go. That's why the inhabitants of the world live in different periods. For instance, the inhabitants of the land of Musthak mostly travel their wide plains as nomads, praying to weird gods (such as Zteel, the God of Chromium) and spending their days bashing each others' heads in with big, blunt and rusty swords. Then again, on the far side of the ocean, there's also the Federal State of Regania (by which name it is only currently known; the country is generally renamed after its current president) which has banished all gods from the country except for one or maybe two and finds great pleasure in developing nuclear bombs in stylish shapes and portable sizes.

It's only natural that there is nothing but chaos on Murphy's World.

Then again, what really sets this little green, blue and neon yellow planet (the Reganians have a very peculiar taste in colors) apart from Earth is the fact that the Laws of Nature have decided (probably in a secret meeting with history) not to follow any of the usual rules except for that of Entropy, or chaos.

With that settled, there was only one defining element left for the entire world, and that was Chance. Fortunately, one could usually rely on Chance, as long as it remained nice and random, but unfortunately, a man named Murphy (thinking himself quite the clever guy) got a really neat idea he shouldn't have got, and he did with it what he shouldn't have done, namely publish it. That idea was: "God doesn't throw dice."

Naturally, God threw a fit because he liked to play, and he did what angry gods always do in these situations.
He got himself some loaded dice.
And from that day on, everything went wrong on the planet, including Chance.

(Maybe Murphy's world isn't entirely unlike our own.)

The general setup

Murphy's World is a horrible jumble of historical clichés ranging from late prehistoric barbarian tribes over renaissance swashbuckler nations up to modern-age cold-war spy-network-toting global superpowers. The strange thing is that the world is at balance as it is, though it's the sort of fragile balance that's tipped over when someone sneezes loudly. Fortunately, it builds itself back to another sort of balance after each such incident. If you ever needed proof that there is order in chaos, you'll find plenty here.

On a rough overview, Murphy's World looks as follows:
There are six major continents on the Planet: Cinderia, Amerita, Newropa, Friacca, Downunder and Southpolia. There was a seventh continent - Northpolia - but due to extensive nuclear testing by some nation, it has melted. Ever since that day, all of Southpolia is a nuclear-free zone.

The planet is two thirds ocean and one third land mass. None of the six continents are directly connected by dry land, but there is an abundance of small island states between Amerita and Friacca which are all connected by a bizarre system of bridges (and each of the island states asks horrendous rates from foreigners who want to cross the ocean).

Oh - and there is Atlantis, the flying metropolis. It was originally an experiment to put an entire city into a submarine and relocate it to the ocean floor. Just don't ask.

Places to go

Cinderia
Cinderia is the largest continent on Murphy's World, spanning around almost half the planet's diameter. Unfortunately, most of its north is an uninhabitable ice desert, though no one seems to have told the local natives, the Evercold, that it is uninhabitable. The Evercold live on fish, polar bears and, very occasionally, on lost travellers.

Right to the south of the nameless ice desert lie the plains of Musthak, a place which is also cold and barren though not quite as cold and barren as the land to the north. Consequently, a few more people live here, and these people are known as the Barbarian Tribes, though they call themselves Musthakai. All male members of the Musthakai are large, well-built and look a little like unshaven bodybuilders on steroids, all female members of the Musthakai are blonde, curvy and have luscious, sultry lips. Both genders know how to handle huge, blunt, and rusty swords, and both pray to a huge pantheon of gods ranging from relatively normal (like the Lords of Wind and Rain) to absolutely absurd (like Eek, the God of Rodent Tails). Almost every Musthakai, though, reveres Zteel, the God of Chromium, as only He knows how to remain rust-proof.

To the far east of Musthak lies the Empire of Chow Zen, the most densely populated region on the planet. The natives belong to one of two people: the Chow, rather friendly folks living on trade, craftsmanship and dispensing unnecessary wisdom, and the Zen, warlike people with a strong sense of honor, etiquette and cutting-your-enemy-into-thin-slices-with-razor-sharp-sabers. Both follow the leadership of a single Emperor, though there are minor rebellions and civil wars around every two weeks, and more frequently around New Year's Day. Food in Chow Zen is definitely tasty, though the Chow have a reputation for eating anything with legs, except for furniture and the Zen have a reputation for eating anything that swims, except for ships. Both have steam-age technology but haven't started using steam-power for transportation yet.

Finally, along the southern coast of Cinderia, there is the Republic of Communia. Communia is a prosperous land with rich natural resources, wide farmlands and lush forests. All wealth in Communia belongs to everybody, thus, everybody in Communia is as poor as a peasant. Of course, that's not a problem, at least not according to the Party. The Party knows best for Communia. (It knows best for everything, of course, but this paragraph is about Communia, so I'm definitely not a traitor to the people, am I?) In theory, Communia is a modern state with access to all sorts of technology, but strangely, only those in the Party seem to be able to get a hold on them. Communia is currently fighting a Cold War against Regania, and you know, you have to make sacrifices in war, see?


Amerita
Some would say that Amerita is essentially two continents, North Amerita and South Amerita. But then again, some would also say Murphy's World is flat (which it isn't: it's pumpkin-shaped), so there you go.

North Amerita is, essentially, one single nation currently named the Federal State of Regania, except for its northern tip, which is called Canuckia. The Cannucks are a peaceful bunch of environmentalists in plaid shirts and leather jackets whose main pastimes are the semi-annual Lumberjack Olympics and ice hockey. Expect every good man to own a chainsaw, a pickup truck and a dogsleigh; expect every good woman to own a freshly baked apple pie and a first aid kit the size of a small house. Cannucks have full access to modern technology (sharing a border with the world's most advanced nation) but mostly choose to live in log cabins with no access to electrical power. There is one major city in Canuckia, Toromtom, which looks pretty much like most modern-age capitals, only that the air there is actually breathable.

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of the nation of Regania, which spans the rest of North Amerita. Its cities are huge, crowded, noisy and neon-yellow Molochs of society where rush hour is 24/7 and the crime rate is so high that the police have stopped monitoring it and started taking the number of people not somehow involved in a criminal act as either perpetrator or victim as a statistical size. Outside the downtowns, huge suburbs span the rest of the country, less crowded, less noisy but still every bit as neon yellow as the metropolitan areas. Reganians are a highly patriotic bunch, just a little bit racist and very proud of their liberal firearms laws which, essentially, make not owning at least a .45 handgun a criminal offense. Of course, in a country as free and liberal as Regania, people tolerate different lifestyles, but only a few would actually go so far as to burn the flag (showing neon yellow stars on a neon yellow background; thus the national anthem of Regania begins with the words "Oh say, can you see them"). And if someone really can't stand living in Regania any longer, chances are he'll just move to Canuckia.

South Amerita consists of a multitude of small nations changing their governments with the turn of the seasons, nations such as Voodoochile, Zebrazil, Argumentine and Pooru. Just south of Regania lies Mojito, a relatively stable nation thriving on the export of tacos, chilli, weird hats and illegal workers. The current government has dangerously close diplomatic relations to Communia and is thus watched by the Reganians with a concerned look. Some say that there may be war, some others say that it has already begun, but it's a war of black ops and secret political manipulation by the Reganian secret service, the CYA.

Newropa
Newropa is completely stuck somewhere between the early middle ages and the renaissance. There are six major nations that are constantly at war with one another, though none seems to be able to gain an upper hand in the long run, so the situation there is unlikely to change. Travel in Newropa runs either by horse and carriage or by airship - an airship being a perfectly normal sailship that just happens to be able to fly.

A short excourse on airships

Airships, just like sailships, are powered by wind. They are able to float, however, because of the cat-and-butterbread-engine inside, essentially somewhere between fifty and five hundred cats with butterbreads tied to their backs. Falling cats always land on their feet, falling butterbreads always land on the buttered side, and as butterbread-equipped cats can't do either, they just keep floating. The resulting lifting power is used to make an airship float.

One could use magic to make an airship fly, but most magicians aren't willing to endanger the roofs of their sorcery towers.

On an island in the north of Newropa lies the Kingdom of Angilia. Angilia is governed with a strong hand by Queen Olympia the First and is a nation of traders, explorers and wily playwrights. The Angilians have strong ties to many of the small island states in the ocean and access to foreign goods of all sorts, the most prized being tea. You can take everything away from an Angilian gentleman: his cane, his horse (which he would trade his kingdom for otherwise) and his moustache, but take away his tea and you've made him really really mad.

Just a bit to the south lies the warlike Empire of Maleana. Maleana is the nation that is stuck deepest in the Middle Ages and takes great pride in being able to put every living thing into a full plate armor. There are sets of armor for knights with horses, sets of armor for knights without horses, sets of armor that turn knight and horse into a single armored monstrosity, and even sets of armor for just the horse in case the knight develops an allergy to iron. Maleans train wardogs (and also put them into sets of armor, but that's a different story), and if they wanted to, they'd probably be able to conquer all of Newropa, but fortunately, they spend most of their time on religious civil wars. There are Murphyists and Protesters (the latter believing that God does throw dice), and they are constantly at each other's throats.

West of Maleana lies Narmonyde, probably the most advanced nation of Newropa. Its chivalrous musketeers are the stuff of legend, as is the Narmonyans' splendid cooking. Unfortunately, King Francois of Narmonyde is a nutcase, believing himself the sun and Murphy's World revolving around him. He spends the entire annual budget of a small nation on a single lavish party, and he has lavish parties every day. People are already more than a little dissatisfied with him, and, don't you know, talking 'bout a revolution (which, so far, sounds like a whisper). Narmonyde has never been defeated in a war, but a civil war could bring it to its knees.

South of Narmonyde lies Haspinia, motherland of the mighty Airmada, the greatest fleet of airships on the planet. The Airmada exists solely to hunt down air pirates, which, maybe surprisingly are also mostly Haspinians. Threatening international airspace worldwide, their dreaded frigates and galleons flying the Jolly Over flag have given the nation the bad reputation it rightfully deserves. Haspinians are easily enraged, hard to calm down and make a sport of fighting bulls and romancing ladies (some also make a sport of romancing bulls and fighting ladies, but let's not talk about them, shall we?). They also speak with an outrageous "latin lover" accent but only when talking to non-Haspinians. Go figure. Oh - and you shouldn't discuss religion with them. More than one unsuspecting young man got a visit from a Haspinian inquisitor, and nobody expects the Haspinian Inquisition!

On a peninsula to the east of Haspinia lies Thalienus, the nation of the hundred city-states, like Malino, Tiruna, Rovena and Pennales. Each has his own prince (some, like Cenive, even have several princes), and the only authority they recognize is the Pointyhat, the highest priest of Murphism, located in the city of Aroma. Very much like the Haspinians, the people of Thalienus are hot-blooded in love and war alike, though their accents are not nearly as strong. However, they like to talk with their hands a lot, making their company almost as annoying as that of their Haspinian cousins, and when they are not talking with their hands, they're probably just warming up for some singing. Many Thalians enjoy singing loudly while riding, swordfighting, hairstyling or pretty much every other activity including conversations.

The last notable nation on Newropa is Skanskefjørd, a country led by heroic warriors and wise sages, if you believe the Skanskefjørdians - or by savage pirates and boring talespinners, if you believe the Angilians who are in a century-old feud with them. The Skanskefjørdians are the only Newropean nation not to use airships but stick to conventional sea travel instead, and are, unfortunately, very successfully raiding the other coasts this way. Their language is almost impossible to pronounce and absolutely impossible to write down, consisting of almost exclusively illegible letters (ø being only one of them), and even though many of them are fluent in other languages, every single Skanskefjørdian will still use a vowel or consonant from their own tongue when speaking. A surprisingly high number of Skanskefjørdian women are warriors (calling themselves Valkyries), and a surprisingly high number of men among their people are wizards (calling themselves Runelords). Many would say that the sight of a single Skanskefjørdian brings bad luck, as it often heralds the arrival of more Skanskefjørdians.

Friacca
Friacca, also known as the Dark Continent, is a largely untamed mass of land where extremes collide with one another. Lavish jungles brimming with life share borders with huge deserts where death lurks between bone-dry dunes, bustling cities where unimaginable riches are traded daily share borders with almost stone-age hut villages where the natives own little more than a loincloth and a spear (sometimes even only one of either, and I'll leave it to your imagination which of them).

The north of Friacca is still a rather civilized area, comprised of the city-state of Abdul and the two kingdoms of Dinia and Comorro. All three share a single culture and religion where slavery is legal, magic is commonplace (yet outlawed) and disputes are usually settled by bloody knife-fights, except between merchants, where they are settled by haggling the other guy down until he begs for mercy. Abdul has a Magician-Mogul as leader who frequently tries to conquer the world but is always thwarted by some one-armed, one-legged beggar boy who gets in the way of his plans. Dinia is ruled by the Caliph, essentially some sort of king who is only in charge because nobody else wants to try to govern the sack of fleas that Dinia is, and nobody is really in charge of Comorro (even though they call it a kingdom); the land is in a sort of benevolent anarchy where everything works out somehow, though not always to everybody's satisfaction. Residents in Abdul, Dinia and Comorro don't follow Murphyism but rather the teachings of Finagle, one of Murphy's prophets who practically applied Murphyism to most mundane tasks. The Finaglims, as they call themselves, are usually tolerant of Murphyists, except when they don't seem to take them seriously, in which case they cry havoc and become bloodthirsty dogs with scimitars and crooked knives. Have some sympathy with them, they've had a tough day.

The further to the south of Friacca you get, the less hospitable the land becomes. The deserts get more deserted, the jungles get more... jungled, you get the point. Surprisingly, these jungles are still populated by primitive tribes with rather uncivilized habits like cannibalism and human sacrifice. On the other hand, the jungles are also said to hold untold riches, riches found in the remains of ancient prehistoric cultures who built stone temples out of rocks a thousand people couldn't possibly lift. There are even strange, hexagon-shaped pyramids, and if you can't imagine what a hexagon-shaped pyramid would look like or even consider the mere notion of such a thing impossible, be reminded that nothing is impossible in Friacca. Just ask your local Pulp Archaeologist (4); he can tell you quite a few stories abot them...

Downunder
If there is a bright center to Murphy's World, Downunder is probably the place that it's farthest from. Wide, grassy and empty plains border at wide, barren and empty deserts that lie in the shadows of wide, rocky and empty mountains overlooking the wide, blue and empty sea. Did I mention that all of Downunder is essentially wide and empty? I did? Good.

Surprisingly, there is still something like a nation on Downunder spanning the entire continent, and even more surprisingly, it's as technologically advanced as Regania or Canuckia. Its residents, the Downies, are cheery people with a big heart and legendarily bad manners, but nobody in Downunder really seems to give a care about manners, so they're all cool with one another. Downies are all outdoor freaks at heart; put one naked in the center of the desert and chance are he'll arrive at your front door later, fully clothed, driving a truck built out of cactea and iguana dung and offering you a jug of beer he brewed on his way to your house. (Don't ask what he made the beer from, though - you won't like the answer.) Most Downies also love high tech knickknacks and tend to fiddle with them until they improve to the max or just break down. Most of the time, they do the latter.

Aside from the "civilized" Downies (and "civilized" is really stretching the limits of the word), there is also a tribe of natives in Downunder, the Omari. The Omari are almost the exact opposite of the Downies in behavior: almost always grouchy, uncaring about the fate of a single living being outside their own tribe and opposed to any sort of innovation that goes beyond the technological marvels of the stone age. They do not tolerate people that look more advanced than them, and from an Omari point of view, even your standard kitchen knife is high tech. Annoy the Omari and chances are they will just throw lots and lots of boomerangs at you until you go away and don't return.

So why go to Downunder at all? Easily answered: Downunder has crystal-clear seas, clean air, beaches of white sand as far as the eye can see and the most amazing collection of wildlife anywhere on Murphy's World. It is the best imaginable place for a vacation, especially since everything there is so wide and empty. People who can't stand the company of other people will fall in love with Downunder, where it's possible to walk in a straight line for a month and not meet anything capable of annoying you. Of course, you have to know which of the spiders you'll meet on the way are poisonous (only a few) and which of them carry a deadly posion (the rest), and you'd better find out quickly which of the cute furry things you meet on the way you can pet and which will bite your arm cleanly off. (Both look exactly the same, by the way, and only the Downies and Omari can tell them apart.) All in all, Downunder isn't the most interesting place on the planet, but it's worth a visit every now and then.

Southpolia
Southpolia is a barren ice desert populated by both penguins and polar bears. The polar bears didn't arrive until a few years ago when Northpolia went down, and the penguins didn't like that. (If you're a black, fat bird incapable of flight, it's only natural not to like the arrival of almost invisible, 800 pound predators with razor-sharp claws and teeth.) Consequently, they have developed a group mind and a community intelligence and are currently fighting a guerilla war against the polar bears.

That's why it's currently a really bad reason to visit Southpolia. If the cold and the polar bears don't get you, chances are you'll run into a penguin ambush and end up getting pecked to death by a thousand beaks that smell of fish. So stay away, will you?

Example characters of Murphy's World

Shelton Dread, "The Jerk of the Seven Winds"
Clichés: Genuinely Nice Guy (4), Shepherd (3), Seasoned Traveller (2), Air Pirate (1)
Tools: Nice Big Smile, Shepherd's Staff, The Big Book of Sea Travel ("Sea" crossed out; "Air" written above it), Flying Pinnace
The title "Jerk of the Seven Winds" is maybe a little unfair. Shelton Dread isn't as big a jerk as it implies. He is only the wrong man for his station. All he ever wanted to be was a shepherd. But you don't become a shepherd when your father is Chuck "Bloodfinger" Dread, the world's most notorious air pirate.
Shelton could have refused following him in the footsteps of a pirate captain. He could have also collected his liver from the bottom of the sea if he had done that. However, he isn't a brave man, or even an ambitious man. All Shelton ever hoped for was to make his father happy, and when he died (heroically in combat and not from slipping on a wet rag his son forgot on the stairs one day as some wannabe historians would say), Shelton continued his quest to live up to his father's legacy. Of course, being a first-class Genuinely Nice Guy gets a little in the way of that quest.

Cro of Magnon's Tribe
Clichés: Musthaki Barbarian (4), Dumb As Mud (3), Girl Magnet (3)
Tools: Rusty Barbarian Greatsword, Blank Stare, Revealing Loincloth
Ever since he left his tribe, Cro has been travelling the world without understanding a single thing he has seen or experienced there. That's because he is, undoubtedly, on of the dumbest human beings ever to walk the surface of Murphy's world. He speaks no languages but his own native tongue, and even that one badly. The only word he ever says if he talks is "Ztaal", though "talk" is a matter of definition; most other people would call it "roar". Strangely, he always seems to get the girls, even though he never actively does anything. They just happen to somehow fall into his arms, sighing and tickling his huge muscled chest, to which he responds with "Ztaal", which makes them sigh even more loudly. Go figure.

Krimhild von Hammerheim, Martyr-In-Training
Clichés: Warrior Maiden (3), Religious Fanatic (3), Curvaceous Babe (2), Snotty Noble (2)
Tools: Elegant Broadsword, The Book of Murphy's Law, Really Tight Leather Corset, Impressive Coat-of-Arms
A member of the Sacred Order of the Blessed Sword of Holy Saint Martus of Divinetown (SOBSHSMD for short), Krimhild's life is eternally devoted to throwing it away for the cause of Good. Unfortunately, situations that are worth throwing your life away for are really hard to find if you are still a martyr-in-training, and that is pretty much Krimhild's quest right now. Unfortunately, only a few warrior women exist who could guide her on that path, and most men she has met so far seemed to be interested in other things than helping her to end her life honorably. Dying for a good cause is harder than it looks if you're a rich hot babe.

Tom deCruz, Movie Celebrity-Has-Been
Clichés: Womanizer (4), Action Hero (3), Party Animal (2), Serious Dramatic Actor (1)
Tools: A Single Red Rose, Friggin' Big Fake Revolver, Bag o'Munchies, Self-Written Rejected Screenplay
All Tom ever wanted was acknowledgment. All Tom ever got was a paycheck. Granted, it was always a pretty good paycheck, and then there were the babes, and the booze, and the fame, and all the other good things that come from being a movie celebrity. But Tom felt that he was never taken seriously, especially not as an actor. That's why he hasn't made any movies for a few years now (though he could get back into the business with "Die Already IX" anytime he wanted to). But maybe he won't. Maybe it's time to put on the old neon yellow sunglasses again. Maybe there's something more in life. Something special. Something where he can finally find what he has been looking for. Maybe it's just around the corner...

Fernando Francesco Domenico Alvarez y Aquila, Haspinian Duelist
Clichés: Grumpy Midget (4), Haspinian Swordsman (3), Latin Lover (3)
Tools:Stepladder, Razor-Sharp Rapier, Hair Wax
Fernando Francesco Domenico Alvarez y Aquila (and don't you dare leaving even a single of these names out when addressing him) would be the quintessential Haspinian swashbuckler: passionate, skilled, daring and chivalrous. If he weren't only four feet tall. Due to a cruel twist of fate, the best swordsman of the decade (at least that's what he thinks he is) only grew to a full four feet of height, and the thought of how great he could have been with just a little more hasn't made him a happy man. In fact, he is willing to let the world pay for being bigger than him, and he is still good enough a swordsman to make it a pretty high bill. The only comfort he finds is in the arms of the ladies: he knows how to make his dark moods appear him mysterious and desirable, even though he needs a stepladder to deliver a proper kiss.