Post by Triz on Apr 17, 2010 11:56:56 GMT -5
The following was written by Brann Bronzebeard:
Sorry, but there’s little to go off of for gnomish history. Hell, even the gnomes don’t know much prior to the Second War! But I set forth on this project to provide information on all the races of the Alliance, so I’ll give it my dwarven best.
A little over two hunter years ago, a dwarf explorer stumbled across a gnomish village. Shocked is hardly the word to describe his reaction. While we were still marveling at the sheer majesty of gunpowder, they had fully automated households and giant robotic chickens guarding their village. I’ll be the first to tell you that our little buddies here are kinda strange....
Anyhow, they looked smart, and their grasp over technology was simply astounding. So we offered them our friendship, and they gladly accepted. We even gave them a place to truly build themselves a city, in our own mountains of Dun Morogh, no too far from Ironforge itself. Thus the gnomes and the dwarves built Gnomeregan, and the gnomes came out of the woodwork. Ever since then our two races have lived side-by-side. Gnomes also discovered goblins at this point, and the two races developed a mercantile and technological feud that lasts to this day.
During the Second War, the gnomes took up arms and helped us battle the Horde. Dozens of gadgets and vehicles flooded from their workshops, and many gnomes even directly participated in the battles, often riding great flying vehicles and piloting shoddy submarines into the fray. If it weren’t for the little guys, I doubt we would have lasted as long as we did, let alone won the war.
Then one day the gnomes up and disappeared, withholding all their pilots and troops during the Third War. It blew our minds that our friends would so abruptly leave us like that. It wasn’t until after the defeat of the Legion that we learned why the little folk hid from the rest of the world.
It seems that before the Third War a great tragedy hit the gnome’s homeland. While still healing from the tides of the Second War, an army of troggs beneath Gnomeregan assaulted their homeland and caught them unawares. Knowing that the rest of the Alliance had bigger troubles and could do without them, the gnomes sealed themselves within Gnomeregan’s halls and tried to rid themselves of the invaders. Unfortunately, they lost horribly. Only half of the remaining gnomish race was left to flee to Ironforge.
Ever since then the guys have been rebuilding their race, once again supplying the Alliance with great inventions and astounding pilots. However, Gnomeregan is now uninhabitable. Their ruler, at the behest of his advisor Mekgineer Thermaplugg, detonated a radiation bomb in its halls in an attempt to kill the troggs. The only thing living in Gnomeregan now are insane and leprous gnomes, glow-in-the-dark troggs, and tons of killer machines. They swear that someday they’ll heal their city.
I only hope they can.
In a strange sort of way, gnomes are what dwarves would be if we had no direction. Jovial and warmhearted, gnomes tend to treat members of other races as younger folks, taking a grandfatherly or grandmotherly approach. However, when put together, one can expect only the strange. You think exploding sheep and giant riding mechanized chickens is a little off? Then you don’t know a gnome personally.
Simply put, gnomes lack any ability to focus. And that’s the simplest it’ll get.
This lack of focus tends to show itself in everything a gnome does, and even the life he lives. A gnomish home (also a workshop, might I add) is strewn with thousands of little doo-dads -- gadgets and gizmos aplenty -- that the resident has been constructing. The floors are littered with tossed books, and tables covered in blueprints, and the gnome himself plastered in the middle of these. He’ll be in the same clothes he’s been wearing for a week, his hair frazzled beyond repair, and probably more than a little malnourished. Often you’ll find little robots clucking around, performing various assigned tasks the tinker honestly doesn’t have time to do. Okay, I’ve changed my mind; I don’t want to say a gnome cannot focus -- a gnome spends entire weeks working on devices, and even hires adventurers to seek parts for the next big thing!
Oh, and expect plenty of explosions. Tinkering ain’t often an exact science, as I’ve come to recognize. Gnomes produce fewer explosions than goblins, though.
Unlike their closest competitors, the goblins, gnomish ingenuity does not hold only to technological prowess. A gnome is always attempting to find the next greatest thing, whether it be a new spell, invention, or even way to eat. They believe completely that ingenuity and design can beat any challenge, and make life so much easier. Why simply swing an axe, when you can have an automated arm thrust a spinning sawblade into someone’s face? Why simply cast an arcane missile when you can cast Blamblaster’s Super-Explosive Homing Projectile of Doom and Destruction? Gnomish inventions ten to reflect their personalities: flamboyant, bright, flashy and half-screwed.
Often, gnomish inventors organize into pairs, for rather mysterious reasons that even they don’t fully understand. In my travels I’ve rarely seen them alone, and they seem to have this odd crazy-guy/sane-guy relationship. One is always trying to push the limits of his devices to unknowable extremes while the other does everything he can to keep the invention from becoming disastrous. Ironically these parings may be responsible for much of the race’s best innovations. For instance, it was two pairings of just this type that created the underground railroad that connects Ironforge and Stormwind Keep. Pretty handy, if you ask me.
Gnomes do not have kings or queens, not for at least 400 years. Instead, they elect members to become officials. These men and women hold grand titles but only hold their powers for set terms of offices, after which they return to the work force. The ruler holds the seat of the High Tinker, currently held by Gelbin Mekkatorque. While he suffered flak wounds from the release of the bomb in Gnomeregan, his genius is still strong enough to keep his title. He’s a good man, too. I’ve spent more than one evening with him, simply chatting about new inventions.
Gnome communities are hap-hazardous, at best. No two houses ever look the same, and their streets meander into a maze between workshops, domiciles and council rooms. Gnomes organize into great extended families, taking in anyone who sticks around long enough and adding them to the family. A single domicile can hold upward of 20 gnomes, and even more could theoretically be crammed in. Even to outsiders, their doors are always open and something’s on the stove. Presents are common, and given for even the smallest reason. Despite their oddness, they’re the happiest people I’ve ever met.
Above all else, gnomes value life in all its little eccentricities. To the gnomish way of life, one’s friend is the most important thing of all. Cheery and outgoing from the onset, they approach each and every person exactly as they themselves would desire to be treated. Gnomes also love to throw parties, and not just welcome-back shindigs for war veterans. Their love of companionship and life is best shown in these celebrations, where loud music, bright displays of fireworks, and offbeat singing continues until the last gnome drops. The food is... an experience, I’ll say. Everyone brings something, making it one massive pot luck. Unfortunately, each gnome applies his inventive streak to his dish, and the results can be simply astonishing. I remember being subjected to a liverwurst and raw fishhead salad dip.... stewed for three hours until brought to a thick viscous paste. It was an experience -- and so was the next two hours as my body rejected the toxic stuff. I’ve eaten some horrendous stuff in my day, but that took the cake. The chef simply shrugged and ate an entire handful. And they say we have iron stomachs.
Go hug a gnome. He’ll thank you for it.
Information from World of Warcraft: Alliance Player’s Guide.
Gnome History
Sorry, but there’s little to go off of for gnomish history. Hell, even the gnomes don’t know much prior to the Second War! But I set forth on this project to provide information on all the races of the Alliance, so I’ll give it my dwarven best.
A little over two hunter years ago, a dwarf explorer stumbled across a gnomish village. Shocked is hardly the word to describe his reaction. While we were still marveling at the sheer majesty of gunpowder, they had fully automated households and giant robotic chickens guarding their village. I’ll be the first to tell you that our little buddies here are kinda strange....
Anyhow, they looked smart, and their grasp over technology was simply astounding. So we offered them our friendship, and they gladly accepted. We even gave them a place to truly build themselves a city, in our own mountains of Dun Morogh, no too far from Ironforge itself. Thus the gnomes and the dwarves built Gnomeregan, and the gnomes came out of the woodwork. Ever since then our two races have lived side-by-side. Gnomes also discovered goblins at this point, and the two races developed a mercantile and technological feud that lasts to this day.
During the Second War, the gnomes took up arms and helped us battle the Horde. Dozens of gadgets and vehicles flooded from their workshops, and many gnomes even directly participated in the battles, often riding great flying vehicles and piloting shoddy submarines into the fray. If it weren’t for the little guys, I doubt we would have lasted as long as we did, let alone won the war.
Then one day the gnomes up and disappeared, withholding all their pilots and troops during the Third War. It blew our minds that our friends would so abruptly leave us like that. It wasn’t until after the defeat of the Legion that we learned why the little folk hid from the rest of the world.
It seems that before the Third War a great tragedy hit the gnome’s homeland. While still healing from the tides of the Second War, an army of troggs beneath Gnomeregan assaulted their homeland and caught them unawares. Knowing that the rest of the Alliance had bigger troubles and could do without them, the gnomes sealed themselves within Gnomeregan’s halls and tried to rid themselves of the invaders. Unfortunately, they lost horribly. Only half of the remaining gnomish race was left to flee to Ironforge.
Ever since then the guys have been rebuilding their race, once again supplying the Alliance with great inventions and astounding pilots. However, Gnomeregan is now uninhabitable. Their ruler, at the behest of his advisor Mekgineer Thermaplugg, detonated a radiation bomb in its halls in an attempt to kill the troggs. The only thing living in Gnomeregan now are insane and leprous gnomes, glow-in-the-dark troggs, and tons of killer machines. They swear that someday they’ll heal their city.
I only hope they can.
Gnome Culture
In a strange sort of way, gnomes are what dwarves would be if we had no direction. Jovial and warmhearted, gnomes tend to treat members of other races as younger folks, taking a grandfatherly or grandmotherly approach. However, when put together, one can expect only the strange. You think exploding sheep and giant riding mechanized chickens is a little off? Then you don’t know a gnome personally.
Simply put, gnomes lack any ability to focus. And that’s the simplest it’ll get.
This lack of focus tends to show itself in everything a gnome does, and even the life he lives. A gnomish home (also a workshop, might I add) is strewn with thousands of little doo-dads -- gadgets and gizmos aplenty -- that the resident has been constructing. The floors are littered with tossed books, and tables covered in blueprints, and the gnome himself plastered in the middle of these. He’ll be in the same clothes he’s been wearing for a week, his hair frazzled beyond repair, and probably more than a little malnourished. Often you’ll find little robots clucking around, performing various assigned tasks the tinker honestly doesn’t have time to do. Okay, I’ve changed my mind; I don’t want to say a gnome cannot focus -- a gnome spends entire weeks working on devices, and even hires adventurers to seek parts for the next big thing!
Oh, and expect plenty of explosions. Tinkering ain’t often an exact science, as I’ve come to recognize. Gnomes produce fewer explosions than goblins, though.
Unlike their closest competitors, the goblins, gnomish ingenuity does not hold only to technological prowess. A gnome is always attempting to find the next greatest thing, whether it be a new spell, invention, or even way to eat. They believe completely that ingenuity and design can beat any challenge, and make life so much easier. Why simply swing an axe, when you can have an automated arm thrust a spinning sawblade into someone’s face? Why simply cast an arcane missile when you can cast Blamblaster’s Super-Explosive Homing Projectile of Doom and Destruction? Gnomish inventions ten to reflect their personalities: flamboyant, bright, flashy and half-screwed.
Often, gnomish inventors organize into pairs, for rather mysterious reasons that even they don’t fully understand. In my travels I’ve rarely seen them alone, and they seem to have this odd crazy-guy/sane-guy relationship. One is always trying to push the limits of his devices to unknowable extremes while the other does everything he can to keep the invention from becoming disastrous. Ironically these parings may be responsible for much of the race’s best innovations. For instance, it was two pairings of just this type that created the underground railroad that connects Ironforge and Stormwind Keep. Pretty handy, if you ask me.
Gnomes do not have kings or queens, not for at least 400 years. Instead, they elect members to become officials. These men and women hold grand titles but only hold their powers for set terms of offices, after which they return to the work force. The ruler holds the seat of the High Tinker, currently held by Gelbin Mekkatorque. While he suffered flak wounds from the release of the bomb in Gnomeregan, his genius is still strong enough to keep his title. He’s a good man, too. I’ve spent more than one evening with him, simply chatting about new inventions.
Gnome communities are hap-hazardous, at best. No two houses ever look the same, and their streets meander into a maze between workshops, domiciles and council rooms. Gnomes organize into great extended families, taking in anyone who sticks around long enough and adding them to the family. A single domicile can hold upward of 20 gnomes, and even more could theoretically be crammed in. Even to outsiders, their doors are always open and something’s on the stove. Presents are common, and given for even the smallest reason. Despite their oddness, they’re the happiest people I’ve ever met.
Above all else, gnomes value life in all its little eccentricities. To the gnomish way of life, one’s friend is the most important thing of all. Cheery and outgoing from the onset, they approach each and every person exactly as they themselves would desire to be treated. Gnomes also love to throw parties, and not just welcome-back shindigs for war veterans. Their love of companionship and life is best shown in these celebrations, where loud music, bright displays of fireworks, and offbeat singing continues until the last gnome drops. The food is... an experience, I’ll say. Everyone brings something, making it one massive pot luck. Unfortunately, each gnome applies his inventive streak to his dish, and the results can be simply astonishing. I remember being subjected to a liverwurst and raw fishhead salad dip.... stewed for three hours until brought to a thick viscous paste. It was an experience -- and so was the next two hours as my body rejected the toxic stuff. I’ve eaten some horrendous stuff in my day, but that took the cake. The chef simply shrugged and ate an entire handful. And they say we have iron stomachs.
Go hug a gnome. He’ll thank you for it.
Information from World of Warcraft: Alliance Player’s Guide.