The fruits of reading SW2.5 during the autumn of reading.

The Craving for Beginnings, the Dice of Reunion
—How 'Sword World' and 'Jin, the Savior of Darkness' were born in a dormitory where games were forbidden—
Prologue: A 'Blank' Called Craving
Perhaps becoming an adult means that much of one's daily life becomes filled with predictable routines. Fixed jobs, stacks of bills, a little bit of leisure time. In exchange for stability, we eventually tuck away those days of uncertainty and somewhat pointlessly high energy into the depths of our memories.
In the midst of such days, without even realizing it myself, I was craving something.
It wasn't about logic. It was just a pure desire to 'create fantasy' that was smoldering somewhere in my heart.
The more rational reality became, the more I was drawn to the world of irrational, yet certain, 'stories.' The sound of swords clashing, the wind-cutting sound of a dragon tearing through the sky, the sensation of magic distorting space. I wanted to weave such scenes with my own words. It might have been a modest yet desperate desire, like a parched throat seeking water.
However, passion alone cannot create a story. You need a 'vessel' to hold it and 'something' to give it shape.
One night, while searching for that 'vessel,' I was wandering through a smartphone e-book store. And then, one cover caught my eye.
'Sword World 2.5 Rulebook I'
The moment I recognized those characters, I had the sensation that an old, dusty memory in the back of my brain had been suddenly awakened.
'Sword World'—.
It wasn't something that could be dismissed with the word nostalgia. It was the primal landscape that should be called the root of my own 'imagination'.
Chapter 1: The Dormitory of Constraints, the Infinite Forcelia
When I was a high school student, I lived in a dormitory.
There were several rules there. A particularly significant one was 'no game consoles allowed.' Computers were strictly restricted, and while music players were allowed, speakers were forbidden; it was an environment isolated from digital entertainment, especially the type shared by multiple people.
The latest RPGs, beautiful graphics. Digital games where you could gather with friends and make noise. We, who were cut off from those, might have been in a state of 'digital fasting.' With overflowing energy and nowhere for our imagination to go. Thinking back now, that 'constraint' was the key that opened an unexpected door.
The 'game' that we discovered and (fortunately) were allowed to play within those 'constraints' was 'Sword World RPG'.
All that was needed were a few paperback rulebooks, a notebook, writing utensils, and two six-sided dice (2d6). It was not 'digital' but completely 'analog' entertainment, and it was perhaps the only sophisticated 'play' in our environment where we could all gather and share a single story.
The rulebook was our 'door to another world'.
After school, during the brief free time after dinner. We would gather in a four-person room, one person would become the Game Master (GM), and the rest would be players (PL), and a small adventure would begin.
'In front of you is a moss-covered ruin door. You can hear the growl of a beast from inside...'
When the friend acting as the GM described it in a hushed voice, the dormitory room, lit starkly by fluorescent lights, strangely transformed into a dimly lit dungeon.
'My fighter will step forward. Leave the scouting to me.'
'Wait, my thief will check for traps first. I'm rolling the dice!'
Clatter, clatter.
The dry sound made by cheap plastic dice. That was the modest oracle that determined the fate of our world. If the roll was bad (fumble), we would fall into a trap and everyone would burst into laughter. If the roll was good (critical), we would defeat a powerful goblin king in one blow, and the room would be filled with cheers.
Perhaps what we were obsessed with wasn't just 'playing pretend'.
We weren't just tracing a fixed story. We were 'choosing' for ourselves, being tossed about by the 'fate' of the dice, and 'sharing' the one and only 'story' born as a result right there on the spot. We were obsessed with the very realization that the characters we created were living within the 'story'.
A fighter who was quiet but skilled. A sorcerer who was cowardly but used their wisdom when it counted. A thief who was greedy but wouldn't abandon their friends. The characters we played became not just 'data' but irreplaceable 'friends' as we repeated the sessions.
By the way, the one I often used was a priest-warrior of the Temple of Maifa. While serving the goddess of compassion, he stood on the front lines with heavy armor and a mace. He was what you would call a 'tank' role today. I remember one time, perhaps the goddess of dice smiled upon my character creation, a miraculous character with a 'Strength of 22' was born, and it was a huge hit among my friends. Wearing thick armor, he would take on all the enemy's attacks to protect his friends. A reliable presence who could also use healing magic (Cure Wounds!). Every time he (that character) deflected an enemy's attack with his thick armor, cheers would go up from my friends. Of course, I was happy that his ability scores were high, but more than that, perhaps the role of protecting my friends itself felt right to me at the time. I think there were many trials we could only overcome because that character was there.
In one session, to escape from a powerful enemy, one of our friends sacrificed himself to buy time. According to the rules, it was 'death.' That night, we were genuinely depressed, and in what we called his 'funeral,' we toasted with juice we had secretly brought from the dormitory cafeteria. It was an event that was certainly etched into our hearts as a single 'reality'.
Because there was no 'convenient answer' like a game console, we had no choice but to create the 'story' ourselves.
The 'power to build a world only in one's head, move characters, and weave a story,' which was cultivated during that dormitory life.
That is my 'primal experience,' and I think it has had no small influence on my way of thinking since then.
Chapter 2: A 'Blueprint' Called a 'Script'
However, it is difficult to give shape to a 'work' with only passion and imagination.
No matter how passionate you are, if there is no 'mold' to pour it into, it will just overflow and not take a form that reaches anyone.
In weaving the story of 'Jin, the Savior of Darkness,' there was one more experience I could not ignore.
That is that I had 'written scripts' before.
I think of a script as a 'blueprint' for a story.
It's not just about lining up interesting lines. Why does this character take 'that action' here, 'now'? How does that action 'influence' the entire story, how does it move the emotions of the viewer (reader), and what kind of 'landing point' does it ultimately lead to?
It is the work of thinking about that and assembling it.
I think something started moving when this experience of 'scriptwriting' met my craving to 'create fantasy' and the nostalgic vessel called 'Sword World'.
Having obtained the 'Sword World 2.5' rulebook on Kindle, I was turning the pages from a different perspective than that high school student back then.
'How should I use this setting to make the story move?'
'How should I interpret this rule to depict the character's conflict?'
It might have been a somewhat 'gadgeteer' perspective, thinking about how to combine them as 'parts' of a story to create an interesting 'machine,' rather than just reading the rules.
Chapter 3: 'Evolution' and 'Reignition' Called '2.5'
Having started turning the Kindle pages, I was soon betrayed in a good way.
What was spreading there was not the 'Forcelia' I knew. The world had become 'Raxia,' and the main stage had changed to an unknown land called the 'Alfreim Continent'.
At first, I was confused. However, as I read on, I realized that the 'difference' was the 'evolution' that was captivating me again now.
The rules, while keeping the foundation of the '2d6' from back then, had been surprisingly refined and updated to be modern. Combat was speedier, yet strategic. The magic system had also been organized and made more intuitively understandable.
And above all, what attracted me were the many charming skills (classes) that had been newly added.
What was particularly shocking was the **'Magitech'**.
Bringing 'guns' and 'magitech' (things like steam engines) into a classic sword-and-magic fantasy. It perfectly translated into rules the simple question I had as a child, 'Which is stronger, a sword or a gun?', and the romance of 'What if there were machines in a fantasy world?'
Furthermore, the settings of the gods had been deepened.
The interpretation of the god of chaos, **'Phalaris'**. Not the simple image of 'chaos = evil' from back then, but a capricious god who 'loves interesting things,' affirms 'humanity's pure curiosity and desires,' and doesn't care what happens to the world as a result. This interpretation was modern, human, and above all, incredibly attractive as an 'engine for a story'.
Reading the rulebook not as a 'game manual' but as a 'world setting material collection,' or as a 'collection of story materials.' That was a new way of enjoying it that I could only do now that I had become an adult.
'What if I, as I am now, were to create a character in this '2.5' world?'
In high school, I chose a Maifa priest-warrior who protected his friends. However, the me of now was drawn to a more complex, more 'troublesome' character.
For example, how could the concept of a 'gadgeteer' that I vaguely admired back then be expressed in this '2.5'?
Yes, how about a character who possesses the knowledge of a 'Magitech,' the techniques of an 'Alchemist,' and the wisdom of a 'Sage'?
He also wields a sword. Because he was raised on the battlefield.
He also uses a gun. Because he knows the limits of a sword.
He also uses the power of a god. But it's not a god of general 'compassion.' A more capricious, troublesome god would be better. Yes, that 'Phalaris'.
The finger turning the pages of the rulebook had eventually turned into thoughts of weaving a story. Just as I had talked all night with my friends in the dormitory room back then, I had started a 'dialogue' with myself.
Chapter 4: 'Perfect Self-Satisfaction' Called 'Jin'
Thus, my alter ego, 'Jin, the Savior of Darkness,' was born.
In a sense, he might embody my own approach to creation.
I think the most important thing in creating a story is the protagonist's 'motivation.' Why does he act?
I felt that easy 'sense of justice' or 'goodwill' didn't suit Jin. Because then, the character of him felt shallow.
So, the motivation I gave him was **'perfect self-satisfaction'**.
He carries a fierce trauma of 'regret' for not being able to protect his friends (the mercenary group 'Iron Crow') in the past.
He doesn't help people out of goodwill.
'Because abandoning someone, or failing to save them, and tasting that worst 'aftertaste (regret)' like that time again is worse than dying.'
If you boil it down, that's all it is.
This engine called 'perfect self-satisfaction' was very convenient for moving the story.
* Chapter 1 (Zephyro Village):
He is not satisfied with just saving the village. He redesigns the village destroyed by the ogre to be 'stronger, richer, and more perfect than before.' Because he doesn't want to have a half-baked way of saving them and regret later, 'If only I had done this back then...'
* Chapter 2 (Free City of Aristo):
He saves a girl named Elara. It's not because she's pitiful. If he overlooks a girl who harbors the light of talent being used by a cult and crushed, he will definitely have a 'bad aftertaste' later, thinking, 'Couldn't I have saved her back then?'
* Chapter 3 (Dragon Jaw Mountains):
He takes on the wyvern extermination for the sake of 'intellectual curiosity (self-satisfaction)' called the 'Steam Engine Principle'.
This motivation of 'self-satisfaction' gives him freedom from 'entanglements'.
He judges existing 'order' and 'common sense' only by his own extremely personal standard of 'bad aftertaste'.
I thought that this principle of Jin's actions might be a little similar to the principle of actions of a player (PL) playing a TRPG.
Is 'helping a villager in trouble' in a game really because you are a good person? No, in many cases, isn't it for the PL's own 'self-satisfaction,' such as 'because it's more interesting as a story,' 'because I want experience points or rewards,' or 'because I want to clear the event prepared by the GM'?
Jin might be a character who embodies that kind of selfish egoism of a PL just as it is.
The thought experiment of 'me' called Jin started walking in the world of SW2.5 (Alfreim Continent).
Meeting the 'troublesome thing to protect' called Elara, contracting with the 'strongest friend' called Non (Volganon), and clashing with the 'wall of order' called Cedric.
The idea of a steam mobile. How much 'interesting stuff' can be drawn from the rules of 'Magitech'?
Searching for the 'best aftertaste' ending of judging by 'law'.
The story started rolling on its own.
I am just writing it down. It was as if I was re-enacting the 'session in my head' that I was doing in the dormitory back then, now alone, in the form of a novel.
Chapter 5: Confrontation with 'Order (Cedric)' and the 'Solution' of the Script
Jin's, in a sense, selfish 'self-satisfaction' eventually clashes with the 'world (order)'.
The symbol of that is Faris Knight Commander Cedric.
Cedric is at the opposite pole of Jin.
He absolutely follows the 'external rules' called 'scripture.' There seems to be no room for 'thought' there. He condemns it as 'evil' because it is written, and as 'chaos' because it is not written.
It was similar to the irresistible pressure of 'it's no good because it's a rule' that I felt in the dormitory back then.
That 'thought stoppage' was exactly what Jin (= the character image I want to depict) was most incompatible with.
Therefore, after the climax of Chapter 4, the final stage of Chapter 5.
Jin is not satisfied with just overpowering Cedric with force.
While showing off the overwhelming power (Flame of Freedom) that could blow away a mountain, he chooses 'not to annihilate' the knight order.
Why? Because 'if I kill them, it's a bad aftertaste'.
And, Episode 9 and Episode 10.
He beats Cedric with sword skills, but doesn't kill him. On the contrary, he attempts to cut off the 'chains' of his shattered faith with words.
'You were trapped in a 'mold' and neglected to 'think'.'
'That's not 'faith'. It's just 'thought stoppage'.'
And to top it off, he declares this.
**'This is an exercise'**.
This was his own way of 'settling things' that a man named Jin could choose.
Don't kill the adversary.
Without killing, shake their values from the foundation, strike them with your own philosophy (= thinking), and even provide 're-education (supplementary lessons)'.
The adversary (Cedric) ultimately salutes Jin as a 'master' and sees him off.
Rather than ending by killing the enemy, shaking the enemy's soul itself and encouraging some kind of change to liberate them.
That is the 'perfect self-satisfaction' that the character Jin seeks, and at the same time, it might have been one form of 'good aftertaste' that I was searching for through scriptwriting. I don't know how the readers will feel. However, for me, I felt that this was the 'solution' that a man named Jin should produce.
Final Chapter: 'Iron Chariot' and the Dice That Keep Being Rolled
In Chapter 5, Jin completes the steam mobile (iron chariot).
It is an existence that symbolizes this story, where the rule of 'Magitech' in SW2.5 and my own desire to 'create something new' have fused.
Non becomes human, and Jin names her 'Non'.
That bond shakes Elara's heart, and she confesses, 'I will also become strong. That is what I 'want to do'.'
As the iron chariot roars with a 'clank, clank!' sound, the relationship between the three moves to a new stage.
Creating this story was, for me, a task of reconfirming the passion of my high school days.
The heat we put into the dice back then might not have been in vain. It didn't disappear, but was waiting inside me, having gained 'something like a technique' called a script and a 'new world' called SW2.5, to start moving again; I feel that way now.
A vague craving to 'create fantasy'.
That obtained a nostalgic vessel called 'Sword World',
was given shape by a methodology called 'script',
and became the story of a man named 'Jin' who is lazy, rational, clumsy, but somehow 'free'.
In the story up to Chapter 5, Jin threw a stone at the 'thought stoppage' called 'order'.
He gained 'power,' obtained 'friends,' and got the 'technology' called 'iron chariot'.
The story is not over yet.
As long as I wish to 'create fantasy,' Jin's journey seeking 'perfect self-satisfaction' will continue. Just like when we were rolling dice with our friends in a corner of a dormitory where games were forbidden, with anxiety and expectations for the future in our hearts.
My own 'session' might also have just begun.