An Imagined Atlas Of Imaginary Atlases

Jim’s note: the New York Times last week ran an article on one of the very greatest contributors to TTRPG history, fantasy atlas-maker Karen Wynn Fonstad. You can take a look at it here. This kicked me in the mind with an overpowering Proustian rush and I returned to my copies of her atlases of Pern, Middle Earth, and the Forgotten Realms. Then I remembered I had already written about fantasy atlases on the TEETH RPG newsletter. And THEN I realised I could post it up here. And you can read that, below.

I own a surprising number of atlases. Some are straightforward atlases. You know the sort: large-format hardback books containing maps of the world. Others, like The Times Atlas Of World History, which I somehow own multiple editions of, are also grand acts of generalised erudition: formidable slabs of publishing achievement that have been iterated over decades of republishing to explain something with maps. In this case, the general history of the human race.

Hell, I would say those inky buggers give more life and meaning to most accounts of our real and actual history than half the books I’ve read or lessons sat through. There is a degree to which I regard these as essential tomes: foundation stones of reading which you should solemnly hand to your son or daughter only to have them roll their eyes and turn back to watching makeup tutorials on Youtube. 

Other atlases in my collection are more quirky, such as The Atlas of Remote Islands: Fifty Islands I Have Not Visited and Never Will, which delivers very much what the title describes, or the unforgettably meta The Atlas Of Atlases. If humankind produces enough of these it will be atlases all the way down.

Some atlases are not entirely about accuracy or eruditon, of course. The Phantom Atlas is about the times in history when people just made up what the world looked like and whacked it in a map. I really love this book: the idea of a medieval cartographer being tasked with providing a map of Africa and managing the cartographic-equivalent of those medieval artists to tried to draw elephants without ever having seen one. It’s brilliant.

Of course, the majority of the atlases I own, somewhat less surprisingly, perhaps, are depictions of entirely imaginary places. 

It is fair to say that, as a teenager, I was, from the moment that the incoming wave of D&D broke over the Sword Coast of my imagination, awash in fantasy maps. I was the kind of nerd who not only pinned up the large maps of the Forgotten Realms that came with the box set, but even had the big, multipart Waterdeep map.

That’s Wayne. Look how happy he is. Happier than me, for sure. Thanks, Wayne.

And, let me tell you, the ceiling of my teenage bedroom was too low to get that pointlessly huge motherfucker on the wall, and I have never forgiven that wall, or the universe which created it. The image here is the best I could find, as my own version was sadly lost or destroyed, via Wayne’s Books. Please forgive me for this borrowing, Wayne. Readers: please visit Wayne’s site and admire his many books. Oh shit, I have just noticed he HAS the damned Waterdeep box set for $109 dollars… I HAVE $109 DOLLARS! (Not for long! – Ed.)

Anyway, I have said a good number of things about fantasy maps over the years, but I happened to pick up The Atlas Of Pern the other day, and while I have no significant love for the Pern series (Yeah, I read them, because my mum read them, but they all seemed a bit 70s prog rock to a 1990s Jim Rossignol) I nevertheless was inspired to write this note on fantasy atlases, which really serves as panygeric for the book’s late author, Karen Wynn Fonstad, the peerless titan of fantasy atlas creation. 

I mean, look at this.

Wynn Fonstad’s books were, in a sense, The Times Atlas Of World History of these fantasy universes. They mapped the places, but also the events of various books. The events of Lord Of The Rings were meticulously mapped, scene by scene, in a way that is basically unneccessary in any reasonable sense of the word, and must therefore be understood as an act of love.

Of course they were invaluable sourcebooks for RPGing, too, and my copy of her The Atlas Of The Forgotten Realms was so beloved by me as a D&Ding DM that it now looks like it has been through a war.

Thinking back: I remember the extent to which my D&Ding as a youth was largely improvisational and based on not much more than having this atlas and a Monster Manual to hand, and let the players wander. They simply explored the maps, heading for unfamiliar forests and deserts. And wow, I suddenly feel deeply motivated to do that again. Perhaps I shall. (Jim’s note: I did not, but perhaps should?)

On this final note: while writing this I was picking through the incredible atlas of Numenera, Maps Of The Ninth World, and noted that every single regional map has both annotated and bare versions.

This is absolutely how to do it! It allows the players explore, lets them place their discoveries on the map, to have a sense of where they want to go while allowing for adventure and discovery. Modern VTTs are absolutely amazing for this, too! Hell, I almost want to run a pure exploration Numenera game just to use these maps. (I didn’t do this, either! Fuck, I really need to do a map-based exploro-game.)

Anyway. I am simply rambling now. Rambling across a particularly well mapped terrain, with love.