I’ve ragged on games before for wasting my time with bespoke calendars. Traveller’s names for weekdays are running jokes in my group. It’s the height of worldbuilding indulgence that never actually matters at the table, right?
Okay but... just let me do it this one time.
It can matter, of course, but only if you make it matter. So I’ve tried to keep things simple and focused on things that might actually affect the game, such as times when important events occur, or how certain days of the week affect peoples’ behaviour.
This is more detail than I’m actually including in Mythic Bastionland itself, so take it or leave it for your game.
Let’s start at the top.
Seasons
Seasons do not obey a rigid calendar, their whims known only to the Seers.
These are already covered in the book and focus on the very broad strokes of Spring, Harvest, Winter.
From a purely gameplay perspective the main thing here is that Winter sucks for travel, and if you’re invested in a particular Holding then you’ll care about how well the Harvest turns out.
Months
Each season is broken into three months of variable length, typically around 40 days. These might be hurried through or strung out as the season progresses. As always, the Seers understand this.
The three months fit nicely onto the existing details of each Season as written in the book. Here they’re expanded a little and named, keeping the focus on why a player Knight would actually care which month it is.
Spring
Sprouts - First shoots of green are coming through. The Feast of the Sun is all excess and revelry, so lots of room for messy drama to occur in and out of court. Bloody contests are encouraged, believing it strengthens the land for the year ahead.
Petals - Blossoms paint the Realm in every colour. Sceptremass brings all the local rulers together to renew their vows of loyalty at the Seat of Power. Big events could occur at this gathering, or at an individual Holding while the ruler is away.
Leaves - The peak of ripening growth, rising up to the longest day. The Tax begins, collecting coins from the wealthy inhabitants of the Realm, Knights often sent along as escort.
Harvest
Bales - The land turns gold and the first hay is cut. The Feast of the Stars is the best day for weddings, knighthoods, and hosts the most important tournaments of the year.
Bushels - As the breeze cools, amber grains and ripe fruits are reaped in vast quantities. Eldermass is a secret gathering of Seers, which Knights are unlikely to be directly involved with, but are often summoned by Seers afterward to work their agendas.
Barrels - A chill runs through the air as the leaves fall. Meat, beer, and bread is loaded into storage for the winter. The Tithe begins, a portion of all foodstuffs taken into the ruler’s store, often putting a strain on the people of the Realm. Knights are called on to manage this.
Winter
Pyres - First frost is fought back with the roaring fires of the Moon Feast, a solemn festival often combined with a census of the Realm’s inhabitants.
Hearths - The Realm lies quiet in its death shroud, the people huddled inside at their fires. Kindlemass is a lone reason for some to venture toward their neighbours to offer or partake of hospitality. Generous rulers see this as an opportunity to bring the people together, while others see it as an excuse to receive lavish gifts.
Candles - Rivers stir, snow turns to damp earth, and the cold air reveals a hint of freshness. The Levy begins, collecting a share of raw materials and crafted goods from across the Realm, taking them back to the Holdings and Seat of Power. Travel is still difficult at this time, so Knights are expected to offer their service.
Days
A Week is nine days. Think of it as three sets of three days.
The first day in each set is a normal working day.
The second day in each set is considered lucky for a particular activity, but generally treated as another working day.
The third day is traditionally a break from daily work for some other purpose. Most honour this in some form.
Stoneday - Named for the hills and mountains of the Realm. Woodsday - A lucky day for hunting, fishing, foraging, or finding lost things. Armsday - Those who can fight must train, others support them. Riverday - Named for the waters of the Realm. Silverday - A lucky day for trade and travel. Kinsday - All should visit their kin, especially those in need. Skyday - Named for the heavens above the Realm. Rainsday - Considered a lucky day if it rains. Stillday - A day of fasting, peace, and contemplation.
Months can change on any day, and successive days of that type are named “the first, the second” etc.
So a chronicler might describe a particular date as “the third Armsday of Bushels” which would be roughly three weeks into the month of Bushels, at the first month of Harvest.
Elsewhere
Prismatic Wasteland compiles all of the bloodsucking blogposts from vampire weekend
Explorers Designhelps with the agonising task of writing marketing copy for your game
They warn you about the danger of being shredded by gunfire. Being incinerated in a reactor meltdown. The brave pilots who burn up in drop without seeing a moment of battle.
They don’t warn you about the cockpit.
Expect the full post here and on the blog next week.
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I too have come to this conclusion. Making these things matter not just because it's fun as a GM, but it's strangely inviting-- like writing time in the fake calendar is like walking through the door to this imaginary world for my brain. Maybe it's cuz our life is circumscribed by a calendar that things feel less like the gaming world is ephemeral? But even if it's just for us GMs, there's nothing shameful with having a bit of solo fun like this.
I think we've all had the experience where we went from orc raid survivors to realm heroes in less than 2 weeks in game and joked about it. Why not explore the other way?
In my Arden Vul game, I literally got the opportunity to explain away a great reaction roll by some gatekeeping adventurers to the PCs going "Well since it's a festival week you're free to pass, but come the first of Besemios expect to pay our rate of 5 crowns." And idk to me it really mattered and it felt right.
In fact, one of my favorite campaigns I played in had multiple calendars in it. One for the empire evenly split up for tax purposes tracking since the founding, the dwarves had a lunar (think like the hebrew calendar). Some other humans tracked history orally and did stuff like "in the 34th winter of King Artax IV's reign. In the Age of Good Vibes...". The Elves had, iirc, a near calvin-ball calendar since they're all refugees from The Gardens of Ynn and basically didn't make sense except to them.
It was great fun. It mattered because we had to then cross-reference and synthesize various sources for clues to where a big dungeon was!
Last I'll say is that Mouse Guard really was the first game to turn me onto the power of seasons in games. You don't need to track perfect time, but I think the power of being in the same area and recontextualising things based on seasons, alone, is tremendous gaming dopamine.
Anyways thanks for sharing this post. It's nice to hear that your brain is picking at the same niche of gaming like I am these days. (Pendragon and Battletech adjacent stuff).
I too have come to this conclusion. Making these things matter not just because it's fun as a GM, but it's strangely inviting-- like writing time in the fake calendar is like walking through the door to this imaginary world for my brain. Maybe it's cuz our life is circumscribed by a calendar that things feel less like the gaming world is ephemeral? But even if it's just for us GMs, there's nothing shameful with having a bit of solo fun like this.
I think we've all had the experience where we went from orc raid survivors to realm heroes in less than 2 weeks in game and joked about it. Why not explore the other way?
In my Arden Vul game, I literally got the opportunity to explain away a great reaction roll by some gatekeeping adventurers to the PCs going "Well since it's a festival week you're free to pass, but come the first of Besemios expect to pay our rate of 5 crowns." And idk to me it really mattered and it felt right.
In fact, one of my favorite campaigns I played in had multiple calendars in it. One for the empire evenly split up for tax purposes tracking since the founding, the dwarves had a lunar (think like the hebrew calendar). Some other humans tracked history orally and did stuff like "in the 34th winter of King Artax IV's reign. In the Age of Good Vibes...". The Elves had, iirc, a near calvin-ball calendar since they're all refugees from The Gardens of Ynn and basically didn't make sense except to them.
It was great fun. It mattered because we had to then cross-reference and synthesize various sources for clues to where a big dungeon was!
Last I'll say is that Mouse Guard really was the first game to turn me onto the power of seasons in games. You don't need to track perfect time, but I think the power of being in the same area and recontextualising things based on seasons, alone, is tremendous gaming dopamine.
Anyways thanks for sharing this post. It's nice to hear that your brain is picking at the same niche of gaming like I am these days. (Pendragon and Battletech adjacent stuff).