Worldbuilding Wednesdays: Beach Culture

Welcome to Worldbuilding Wednesdays!  Every Wednesday, we spend what is probably far too much time walking through our worldbuilding process.  This week, we're looking at the culture of the wily scalies.

What We Have So Far

It's been a few weeks since we last looked at the scalies in detail, so let's review.  Scalies are the largest of the three species, standing (on average) a good head or so taller than an average human.  They're also the fastest and strongest, but they're bursters- that is, they use most of their energy in short bursts.  Even during their active periods, they don't tend to do much, instead relying on cleverness to capture their prey.  They favor tidal areas, especially tidal areas that they can sit safely above, such as stilt-root estuaries.  Surprisingly, for people who naturally live in large groups, communication is low-level.

Oh- and, just like last week, we should emphasize that these creatures that live among tree roots are not naturally inclined to stewardship of the land.

Culture, Part Three

Just like the other cultures we looked at, we'll be focusing on Language, Values, Norms, and Social Organization.  Also, just like the other cultures, we'll take into account not just the natural tendencies of the scalies but also the environment they find themselves in.  For example, scalies will initially be the most widespread of the three species.  As creatures of the coast on a continent that has a ridiculous amount of coast, they won't start in one or two spaces like the nu humans, nor will they be scattered in small clusters like the furries.  Instead, they'll be occupying a coastline that would have been approximately one-quarter of Earth's total on a normal world; on our world, the number is closer to 25 times the coastline of Earth.  Since that might be hard to wrap your mind around, let's rephrase that- if you started walking along the coast of this continent and spent about half your time walking (eating and sleeping for the other half), it would take around five centuries to walk the entirety of the coast.

Scalies will have multiple cultures simply due to the sheer scale (zing!) involved.

...We'll see ourselves out.

  Language of the Seas.  For those who speak English natively, or most Western European languages for that matter, we already have a good idea what coastal languages sound like.  That's because the Romance languages, such as Italian, Greek, and Spanish, are coastal.  They're typified by rapid, rhythmic speech, with the basic five-vowel structure found in English (although English is more Germanic than Romantic, the written form was heavily influenced by French and Italian, and some cross-contamination occurred).  More than the other species, the natural inclinations of the scalies will modify this.  Their tendency to speak little is going to encourage a harsher, heavier tone that will carry over the waves.  Expect a typical scalie to sound like a grumpy old Sicilian man.

  Why Scalies are Best.  Scalie culture will spread like waves, with shifts taking centuries to reach the entire species.  Changes will occur much faster than they take effect, meaning that most scalie cultures will be differentiated by groups who do a particular thing that hasn't caught on elsewhere yet.  Given scalie preferences for innovation, this will lead to a species-wide obsession with fads.

  Common ground among the scalies will be found with stoicism, cleverness, and a seeming eagerness to place oneself in harm's way.  Strong displays of emotion take too much effort that could be spent elsewhere, and the only thing as important as a new and improved way to trap food will be the willingness to use yourself as bait for that trap.  Remember, scalies hunt the biggest, fastest terrestrial predators on the planet.  Outsmarting such a predator is the height of glory.

  Are You Not Entertained?  Speaking of Romans, you know who turned fighting deadly predators into a spectator sport?  The... the Romans.  That probably wasn't a surprise.

  Anyway, with a ready audience that isn't inclined to do much of anything, all eyes will be one the few scalies that decide to be active.  Given the choice between watching scalies building a trap and scalies risking their life to capture and/or kill a massive predator, most will watch the live bait.

  Given that scalies live in colonies and that the colonies are divided up by the territory claimed by a given male, the concept of "beach masters" comes into play.  Males warn each other off with gruff displays, and they will draw females by putting on a show.  The show in question?  "Let's See if This Kills Me," the classic game that ends with either the male dying (and his territory suddenly up for grabs) or the male suddenly having a large supply of meat.

  As mentioned a while back, mating is a bit of an "implied consent" situation, with it being assumed by all parties that any female willing to stick around and watch the life-and-death antics of a particular male must be okay with mating with said male.  This means that we are a few basic inventions away from scalies reinventing the 1950s surfer culture of the U.S.

  Colonizers.  The organizational structure of the scalies, as mentioned, are colonies.  A given colony consists of the territories of established males, surrounded by the territories of males trying to get established.  The further from the center of a colony one gets, the more desperate the male and the more outlandish the traps.

  From the center of each colony radiates the latest in cultural fads, likely originated by the outer males and adopted by the established males to maintain their relevance.  New colonies are formed by those males established enough to have a few females, but forced out by newer or more popular males.  In this way, scalies steadily spread along the coast.

Conclusion

Since we've already established our process with the nu humans and we don't need to spend any time talking about elves, our last cultural build is also the shortest.  We now have a culture of gladiator-surfers, each a master of their own "coliseum," populated by female groupies and other males doing the equivalent of furiously taking notes.  They speak little, with an intonation reminiscent of a spaghetti western.  Relevance is paramount, and those at the top socially tend to be those taking the greatest risks or those who have the cleverest traps.  Given the number of males lost to ever-greater risks, the culture as a whole tends toward the idea of "work smarter, not harder."

An interesting combination for a species built like our version of orcs.

Now that we have some idea of what the cultures look like in isolation, we can begin spending our time figuring out what happens when the cultures begin to mix.  That's for next week.  For this week, we close by inviting you to imagine what the iguana version of Russell Crowe would be like.