A number of role-playing games, including Chaosium's Nephilim, Atlas' Over the Edge, White Wolf's Storyteller games, and Steve Jackson's GURPS, make use of the 'Conspiracy Model" of history -- the idea that there are great things going on in the world that are hidden from most of humanity by the machinations of the (hidden) powers-that-be. One thing that is often important in "conspiracy" scenarios is the document that reveals the truth -- the piece of hidden, "lost", or obscure writing that reveals some of the plot. Thus, GMs may sometimes have to create such writings, for their players to read in character. Such texts might seem rather hard to fake, but fortunately, there are plenty of real-world examples to use as models.

This article is intended to present a set of basic rules for writers to fellow when creating "Conspiracy" or "Fringe Theory" texts. I hope that no one is tempted to use them for "real world" applications except for spotting the faults in existing material. However, real fringe theory buffs don't need me to teach them how to think. (I've done so anyway, using my personal orbital mind control laser.)

The Rules

The first rule isn't about the mechanics of writing at all -- it's a justification for this article. So I've called it Rule 0.

Rule 0: Get It On Paper

Many people seem to believe that anything they see presented in print, as fact, is true. This is partly an emotional tendency (printed text feels so solid, and most human beings find it very hard to argue with something that is printed to them, with conviction, as fact), partly perfectly sensible (life's too short to check everything we read). So anything that is written down, preferably nicely printed, is sure to convince at least some people. GMs who can produce nicely laid-out pages (from, say, a good word processor) might like to do so, but it's more important to describe things as written down in the game world. For example, describe the "book of secrets" rhat the PCs are reading; perhaps it's musty, leather-bound, and very bulky (physical weight translates into emotional weight), or perhaps it's a hastily-typed journal, created by a researcher who knows that the Men In Black are on his tail (it must be true -- the author clearly knows that it's going to get him killed).

Incidentally, this raises a plot idea in itself. Traditionally, when the PCs find a "Big book of secrets," it tells them the truth -- it may be obscure, but once they've decoded it, they can use it to solve their problems. Subtle or sadistic GMs might like to tum this trust around, and give the PCs -- with plausibility and a straight face -- a book that is largely or completely wrong. This could either serve as a red herring, to pace a scenario out, or as a way of suckering the PCs into a dangerous situation, from which they must use skill to escape; after a few days of hunting down the evil Red-Haired League, they've probably broken a few laws, and heaven help them if they take to blowing away red-heads on sight. "You did all this because you believed the book." "Well, it made sense at the time..."

Anyway, we can now look at how texts can be constructed.

Rule 1: Write Heavily

Conspiracy theorists tend to be moderately bright, but obsessive and uncritical. This shows up in their writings, and many of the other rules are really just ways of demonstrating this attitude. Fringe theory texts are rarely light or easy to read; after all, this is a serious business.

"Heavy" writing has various features. Never use one word where you could use four (and add plenty of adjectives), build long sentences with lots of clauses (some in parentheses), use the passive voice, repeat simple ideas several times, skim over complex ideas relatively quickly and without explanation, and so on. Browse a few scientific papers and lesser works of Victorian literature for inspiration.

The unmoderated antipathy of the nominally sophisticated need not cause us to refrain from examination of the actuality of the history of Lost Aclantis. Truth is found in many guises, and the hostilities of those who believe themselves educated does not contradict this; nor does the jealousy of those who are found to have spent lifetimes in fruitless study of mere detail (detail which does not contradict the facts of the multitudinous cases in hand); and the intricate interrelationships of Greek and Egyptian culture (the Roots of our Civilizacion) are, naturally, useful indicators of the points which can be examined by intelligent students. ..

One trick that can help with this effect is to slip into foreign languages occasionally, which always looks clever. Be careful with this, however, you don't want to confuse your less well-educated readers. Just a few words, with fairly obvious meanings, are best.

The logic of this rule leads us to:

Rule 2: Be Reasonable -- But Not Very

Conspiracy theorists are aware that they should be trying to convince people who don't already agree with them, so they usually start by trying to discuss the balance of arguments rationally. But the mask of logic always slips eventually. Hinting that your opponents have their own (perhaps sinister) motives is often a good trick to maintain the facade of legitimacy.

There are, of course, a number of objections to this case. Some traditional "scholars" have suggested that spacecraft landing on the Plains of Nazca could have sunk into the soft surface there. Others point out that the Mayan inscriptions actually depict formal temple ceremonies, according (they claim) to accompanying inscriptions. However, there are a number of responses possible to the former objection; perhaps the Nazca landing-field was never properly tested, or perhaps the space-travellers possessed anti-gravity devices that made their star-ships far lighter than they would have appeared. As for the Mayan incriptions; translating them is in fact, a dificult and complex science, and any translation is far less reliable than might be thought.

In fact, one might wonder about the motives of these "respectable" academics, who are, after all, well-paid in their university chairs (and perhaps in receipt of more payments than they will publicly admit.).

The next rule is the flip-side of the last:

Rule 3: Rant -- Sometimes

The people supposedly writing this stuff have huge bees in their bonnets, and when the gloves come off, their prejudices are titanic. So when you get to the core of the argument, get as boringly angry as you can. Lots of emphatic adjectives can help here.

Since the fall of Atlantis, human beings have repeatedly shown the error of their ways -- and again and again, they have refused to accep't the pressing need to turn away from the godless materialism of the metric system and return to the One True System of Measurements defined by the Ancient, Sacred, Biblical Inch. One would have thought that the obvious face that this unit was used in the creation of the Pyramids (and, no doubt, Solomon's Temple) would have convinced even the greatest doubters of its God-given nature. But no, the Satanic flood of centimeters and kilometers continues its insidious advance . . .

The next rule may, in fact just be a summary of many of the others:

Rule 4: Use Everything Scholarly, Except Skepticism

Scholarship is not a style, it's a way of looking at the world -- examining the details, assuming as little as possible, and being (in theory) prepared to question everything. However, this approach produces a particular style of writing: often dense and heavy, full of details and references, long on footnotes and bibliographies. Conspiracy theorists tend to use all of thae technical devices -- except the skepticism. Their work looks like a scholarly text, it has footnotes like a scholarly text, it's as hard to read as a scholarly text. Therefore, many people will assume that it is what it looks like, as opposed to utter drivel.

As Plato, Donnelly, and Smith have proved (see the works listed in Appendix 3), and as Ms. Siobhan Williams has demonstrated (ref: unpublished MS, library of my private collection), the Egyptians were in fact descendants of the Atlantean ruling class....

Anyway, resuming to the subject of the 'heavy' writing style, welcome to:

Rule 5: Make Clumsy Jokes

Conspiracy buffs rarely have much sense of humor, but they don't like to admit this -- and anyway, they think that a few jokes will prove that they aren't crazy. So they slip in all sorts of leaden puns (preferably using more than one language -- it's impossible laugh at those), lengthy digs at people who disagree with them, sarcastic remarks about their opponents' logic, and so on. Exclamation marks can help to make any joke look feeble.

No doubt, the doubters will say that Unidentified Flymg Objects cannot travel faster than light, because of Einstein's Theory of Relativity. (Einstein has, in effect, given such Materialists Relatively useful Material for their sneering!) But much has changed since Einstein's time: Tempus Fugit, Time Flies, as the saying goes, and I could lose my own Tempus at those who have not read more modern theories...

Rule 6: Appeal To Authority

If a conspiracy theorist finds that other people agree with him, he is naturally pleased, and will usually quote the source in print. It doesn't matter if the source in question is obscure and hard to trace; that just proves that the theorist is clever and more diligent. In fact, the more obscure a reference, the better; apart from anything else, there's less chance that anyone will check up on you. This means that you can distort or misquote to your heart's content (see Rule 0). Usually, old sources are the best. One of the great intellectual developments of the last five hundred years has been the realization that old writings aren't necessarily the best, and may be very wrong indeed. Conspiracy theories will have none of this dangerous modernism.

As Aristotle said, it is clearly ludicrous to believe that Matter can be discontinuous, he rejected the "atomic" ideas of lesser philosophers. (Would that modern scientists were as wise as the father of Western philosophy) This insight was developed by the alchemists of the Middle Ages, whose work (in stunted, derivative form) as the foundation of modern chemistry.

Two other tricks can be helpful here, both of which demand a bit of research. Firstly, look out for famous, "mainstream" authorities with pet eccentricities. A lot of very clever, boringly sensible folk have one or two pet "lunacies," usually way outside their fields. If Dr Jones, the famous academic, agrees with you that dogs are telepathic, then say so. You don't have to tell anyone that Dr. Jones is an expert on Ancient Latin Poetry, and knows zero about dogs or parapsychology; he's an expert and thar's what's important.

(You'll be amazed to discover how many eminent astronomers go around spouting theories about evolutionary biology, or how many medical experts offer free opinions on economics. It's vanity, of course; they know they are smart in their own field, and think that this malces their opin.ions on every other field valuable. After all, they usually regard every other branch of human knowledge as trivial and easy compared to their own.)

Secondly, quote your experts out of context; you may be able to prove something that's the opposite of what they really meant. After all, it's your theory that's important, not their ideas. A wonderful real example: Albert Einstein once said that if Quantum Mechanics was true, then he'd have to believe in telepathy. Now today, most physicists accept that Quantum Mechanics is correct. So some writers have said, with straight faces, that Einstein believed in telepathy.

Rule 7: Be Careful with Untruths

Try to avoid actual lies. This may sound strange considering everything else, but it's really very simple. If you perpetuate a blatant untruth in your text, somebody, sooner or later is going to spot it. (Obscure lies are safer, but not always safe enough.) However, if you really can't achieve your aim without a big lie -- be brazen. If you shout it loudly enough, some people will believe you when you say that two and two make five.

In the real world, this is where conspiratorial writing gets most complicated, because so much depends on what the author, the public, and particular readers actually know to be fact. In a game world, you can get away with a littk bit of fudging; some things probably are true where they are untrue in our reality, so you can say what you like in your text, then tell the players what their PCs know. But be careful with all this; players like to have some grasp of what's going on around their PCs, and if you continually feed them facts that turn out to be wrong, they may lose their ability to suspend disbelief in your world.

Rule 8: Use "Obviously," "Interesting," and "Subtlety"

Sooner or bter, any conspiracy theory will have to jump some huge chasm of illogic, linking a whole series of unrelated ideas to a very dubious conclusion. Fortunately, the English language has the word "obviously" to help bridge the gulf. Use it. Anyone who can't see what's obvious about your logic will be too scared to argue becauee they'll think that the people who really understand what's going on will laugh at them. Fear of looking stupid is a wonderful weakness in the logical reader's defenses.

Winston Churchill and Franklin Roosevelt led the UK and USA through the Second World War, and yet neither was in charge at its end. Both had met Stalin at Yalta in February 1945, and who knows what agents the Russian leader had brought with him? Obviously, something more than coincidence must be valued in this matter. Roosevelt died that April, and Churchill was voted out of office shortly afrer! A complex Communist plot? Obviously,, more investigation is needed, but for now, we can assume...

"Interesting" is almost as useful, especially when you're talking about coincidences. Let's face it, coincidences are amusing for a few minutes, and then they become boring. Perhaps three men led by Smith were hit by cars in London yesterday. It was a coincidence. However, call it an interesting coincidence, and you've just thrown your players a broad wink. They're probably too polite to deny that this is interesting, and with any luck, they'll start wondering who's out to get all the Smiths in London. A few pages later, you can start talking about the conspiracies of evil geneticists, the poor suckers will malce the connection for themselves.

"Subtlety" is one of the most useful terms of flattery (see Rule 9), almost worth a rule in itself. Explain away why someone does the opposite of what the conspiracy theory predicts; they being Subtle. Like "obviously" it can be used to paper over vast cracks in one's dubious logic. And it makes readers who don't understand all this rubbish feel stupid.

The Pope is really working to wipe out the true Catholic blood-lines, one might wonder why he is opposed to birth control, which would, after all, help reduce the reproduction rate of Genetic Catholics. Obviously, this represents an ingenious obfuscation or 'cover-up' tactic; the other actions that the Secret Masters induce him to perform cause many of his followers to doubt and even ignore his instructions so that 'policy' has little detrimental consequence for his schemes, while permitting him to use it as blatant smoke-screen behind which his plots may be developed. Such subtletty! Here, as elsewhere, we observe super-human cunning of the Secret Masters at work. Interestingly enough, other churchs explicitly disagree with the Pope on such matters. A yet-more-subtle method for undermining the ancient Genetic Catholic mentality? Who can say?

There's another rule that is linked to this sort of trick:

Rule 9: Flatter

In the overt sense, flatter your subjects. When you have finished describing some outrageous and utterly impossible theory about some conspiracy's behavior just add a one-line comment: "a true masterstroke," say, or "observe the subtlety of this maneuver."

This serves several purposes. It means that readers who don't understand the drivel you're writing can tell themselves that you're dealing with subtle and complex matters, and perhaps they've missed something. On the other hand, those who understand you (or think that they do) can pat them selves on the back for keeping up with the complexity of the topic. Inducing a warm feeling in your readers never hurts sales.

The Templars have worked long, hard, and diligently for their modern moment of triumph, and doubtless they are now tempted to emerge from cover. But they remain self-controlled and their iron will and sophisticated caution still in place. What else can we expect from those whose webs were spun by Maddavelli, Sir Isaac Newton, Prince Albert, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Charles de Gaulle?

These are clever, dangerous plotters.

Which brings us, lastly, to a useful technique in regard to content:

Rule 10: Name-Drop People and Places.

But don't just drop any old names. Conspiracy paranoids are fashion-conscious creatures, and frankly snobbish. Mentioning in passing that a conspiracy was founded by Charles Dickens, and is based in Minnesota would be a disaster; with no offense to the man or the place, both are fundamentally prosaic.. A secret society founded by Winston Churchill and based in Rome, would be better. Churchill has the glamour of power and politics, while Rome is an ancient city on the tourist loop. Some would think that the best bet would be to use Nostradamus and/or Glastonbury, since both have lashings of occult associations. However, they may be a little too well known, too obvious to function adequately in a conspiracy story; perhaps you should go for Madame Helena Blavatsky, the nineteenth-century founder of the Theosophical Movement, or Banares of India.

Some avenues for Subject Matter

Once you have gotten style straightened out; what do you talk about with it? Of course, this depends a great deal on the plot and theme of your game, but these are a few common features to bear in mind.

Scholarship is not a style, it's a way of looking at the world -- examining the details as little as possible, and being (in theory) prepared to question everything. However, this approach produces a particular style of writing: often dense and heavy, full of details and references, long on footnotes and bibliographies. Conspiracy theorists tend to use all of these technical devices -- except the skepticism-- Their work looks like a scholarly text, it has footnotes like a scholarly text, it's as hard to read as a scholarly text. Therefore, many people will assume that it is what it looks like.

Firstly, The Modern Age is usually wrong. Scientific ideas are only interesting so long as you can use them to support your theories; beyond that, you should be disdainful of them. A lot of people feel unhappy and alienated in their lives -- show them a different world, and however crazy and unsustainable it is, they'll be interested.

Secondly, They Are In Charge. Who "They" are depends on your particular theory, and ideally, you should keep "They" identities a bit obscure; in game terms, this makes for more mysterious plots, and in the real world, it avoids trouble with libel laws. However, offering your readers something to blame for any unhappiness always helps, and you may acquire a kind of rebellious glamour Look at The X-Files: "They" are kept magnificently obscure, but the fact that some kind of truth is being hidden turns a pair of door-smashing, guntoting plainclothes cops into hip, cool loners. The mystique of rebellion is a wonderful thing.

Lastly, there's Extreme Politics. The fact is, a lot of occultists, conspiracy buffs, and fringe theorists, are teetering on the brink of fascism. This is a broad generalization, and no doubt there are a fair number of liberals and socialists involved as well, but a trawl through the field soon turns up some fairly nasty far-right stuff. The classic Conspiracy Theory text is the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, an anti-Semitic forgery beloved of fascists and Nazis throughout the twentieth century. A lot of "fringe" theories concem the origins of various races, glorious destinies for selected groups, the importance of following some Great Leader without question, and so on.

Certainly, fascists love conspiracy theories; when they are out of power, they can claim that the Conspiracy is keeping them there, and when they are in charge, they can blame the Conspiracy for everything that goes wrong, and divert public resentment against conspiring scapegoatsa. (The Nazis also took a definite interest in occultism -- a variety which enabled them to reject "Christian" morality while talking about glorious histories and destinies for the Master Race.)

That doesn't mean that every fringe theory has to consist of Nazi propaganda, but there are a number of features to consider borrowing, especially when they can be tied up with the game's villains. An obsession with ancestry and bloodlines is one; "important" people or groups should claim to be descended from great tribes, kings, or prophets, with the hint that they have somehow inherited importance and authority.

Underdogs should always accuse the successful of conspiring against them, rulers should always claim that their rights come from their ancient, mystical status. Lost continents and races should be shown as the pioneers of contemporary "approved" ideas; Atlantis has been depicted as rhe home of anarchists, communists, royalists, vegetarians, patriarchs, and feminists, so if there's a cause that your game conspiracy theorists support, they might as well claim that history for it. Most of all, there should be a subtle, ominous undercurrent to any conspiracy theory; the people who disagree with the theorist are wrong obviously and really ought to be suppressed. For the good of the majority, naturally.

After which, well, it's your game. You know what plot ideas you're using, and what directions you want events to follow. But most of all, keep the players and their characters confused and a little on edge; if you're really lucky, they'll invent conspiracy theories of their own, to explain what happens to them. Then, you can have them find more documents, to confirm or contradict their ideas -- or best of all, both....