Heaven Will Be Mine is the second game by Worst Girls Games, a game company that seems to take more from Vonnegut’s “Eight Rules” than any author I care to name.
It was the last days of the Iberian campaign of the Napoleonic wars, the Duke of Wellington’s finest hours. Gun smoke from hundreds of rifles hung thick in the air just north of the Tarbes river; Losses on French soil, now, not Spanish. One of the last battles of the campaign, the battle of Toulouse, was over.
Colonel Andrew Barnard of the 95th Rifles, a three year veteran of the campaign, ran to the Duke of Wellington to tell him to witness what his men had done. Barnard was not a man easily impressed, having survived and fought on after being shot through the lung at the storming of San Sebastián. To him Wellington replied;
“Well, Barnard, to please you, I will go, but I require no novel proof of the destructive fire of your Rifles.”
I love worldbuilding. Most of the things I write about and think about and read about tends to involve it in some fashion – from little oddities, like an Earth that’s exactly the same as ours except for the occasional angel or zombie or android or what-have-you, to the sprawling high-fantasy landscapes of alien worlds and distant planes. Fantasy and sci-fi have always been my favourite genres due to that particular mix of familiar with far-from-familiar – the humanity in the inhumanity.So it’s weird then that, when my friends say that they hate worldbuilding, I find a part of myself agreeing them, and another part of myself feeling the need to write this article as a response. As a defence.
The problem, really, is that people do a disservice to the art of worldbuilding by trying to… well, worldbuild. Poorly, a lot of the time.