Metaplot is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it can be alienating and hard to keep up with it. They're constantly releasing books and every one of these books has something happening in it and in order to understand what is happening, you have to know what has been happening and if you skip a book, or just read them in the wrong order, you'll be forced to infer the contents of an earlier book (to pick an example totally at random: Survival of the Fittest) based on vague allusions and hints that were present in a later book (non-random example: Dragons of the Sixth World).
(Forgive my saltiness here. Wikipedia's chronological list of Shadowrun books only narrows it down to the year, so sometimes I have to guess about the optimal reading order).
On the other hand, elaborate metaplot is the only form of rpg writing that is capable of getting me completely invested in hot gossip. So I guess I just have to adapt myself to it.
I do wonder, however, why I am so much more invested in the dragon-on-dragon rivalry between Lung and Ryumo than I am in the similar human drama between Damien Knight and Lucien Cross. I guess it's because they're dragons . . .
Although, less trivially, I think dragon gossip is juicier than corporate gossip not just because they are dragons but also because they've got the perfect gossip formula: they're an elite clique, they have history with each other that goes waaayyy back, and they're sexy as hell. It's a set of advantages that the human NPCs largely lack, which is a shame. Maybe if Richard Villiers was canonically hot, I'd be more interested in the shadowy events surrounding his rise to power.
The best and worst part of this book is when the dragons themselves, using their known aliases, pop up in the shadowland comments to drop cryptic hints of things happening behind the scenes or that happened in the distant past. These exchanges are universally both great and awful. Ooh, there is definitely an intimation of something interesting going on. . . but they're not actually going to tell me what it is.
I'll admit, I'm a sucker for those sort of antediluvian intrigues - immortals who have outlived their original context and are kind of stuck with each other. Maybe you all hate each others' guts, but you're the only ones who understand what you all lost. This new age offers you all sorts of opportunities, and the people revere your knowledge and your power, but you're still drawn to the old clique, because for all their faults, at least they aren't . . . children.
Unfortunately, Dragons of the Sixth World is largely fixated on the present. The "main text" and the "commentary" may speculate about the dragons' mysterious history, but even when the speculation is validated, it's "blink and you'll miss it." Rather, each dragon is treated primarily as a force in the modern world. They have a web of plots and intrigues, and the attention is on the web itself, because the mind at the center is more or less unknowable.
So it's a little disappointing to crack open the chapter on Aden, the dragon that leveled Tehran, and read about the Kurds and the Islamic Unity Movement and Stepan Markaryan, the Albanian drug lord who has "possible links to Aden." It's all very useful for running a game, don't get me wrong, but the overall effect is more like a half-assed Middle East supplement than a dossier on an immortal mastermind.
The bulk of the book is a series of conspiratorial organizations, many of which would probably do all right on their own, without a dragon running the show. Like, as much as I love Lofwyr as a modern update to the classic dragon archetype, and as much as I love "dragon as CEO" as a really on-the-nose metaphor for the evils of capitalism, the Saeder-Krupp corporation would probably be exactly as terrifying if Wilhemenia Graff-Beloit and her coterie of celebrities, aristocrats, and investors were still at the helm.
Which isn't to say that the dragons add nothing. There's something thematic about the consistency of their presentation. All of these creatures will meddle in human affairs. They don't even question their right to do so. They range from aristocratic dragon supremacists to benevolently aristocratic draconic limousine liberals to guys who have a violent grudge against the modern world and are willing to overthrow governments for the sake of the trees. Plus, it's kind of fun to imagine a dragon doing human-style things - like Rhonabwy listening to choral music or Musaru trying to get invited to Europe's premiere old-money high society party.
Overall, I'd say that this book strikes a good balance between being entertaining as fiction and being useful as an rpg guide. I may have preferred a bit more gossip, but I can concede that it's vastly more responsible to put all these organizations and lackeys and abstract agendas in front of player characters than it would be to put them face-to-face with an invincible god beast with world-shaking powers of sorcery. ("Okay, guys, you've tracked Ghostwalker to his lair. Roll initiative against the kaiju who soloed Denver")
Oh, who am I kidding. I live to be pandered to. MOAR DRAGON!
Ukss Contribution: The second-to-last chapter has a bunch of less prominent or powerful dragons. One of them was Perianwyr, who worked as a club promoter and had an uncanny knack for finding exciting new musical acts. That's an interesting enough character on its own, but later on in the OOC section about Rhonabwy's Allies and Enemies it says "He has been known to associate with the adult dragon Perianwyr, but this association is largely based on their mutual love of music than any draconic power playing."
I am obsessed with this relationship. Two dragons, bro-ing down over tunes.
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