DSMP Place-Name Suffixes and Meanings
kind of maybe accidentally some prose? I DIDNT MEAN TO I SWEAR
The suffix, “-berg,” or, “-burg,” comes from the German word for castle or fortress. Since many castles ended up becoming starting points for greater civilization/urbanization, the suffix became almost a synonym for city.
L’manberg was a small patch of land, defined by it’s towering walls. It was built with the intent of protecting its inhabitants. It evolved, over time, to be a sprawling mess of homes and shops, roads and churches, museums, plazas- it grew to be a town. Open without it’s walls, a fortress no longer. Then, a crater. The citizens it swore to protect having fled, having abandoned it if they could, lest they help bring it down.
“Topia,” essentially just means any geographical place. It isn’s a civilization, town, city, anything, just a place. It could also be used to indicate a paradise.
This name feels like a sick irony. It was just a place. First, it was a campaign, a political group aiming for their version of utopia. Then, it was a ravine. It was a time period, defined only by it’s geographical separation from home. It devolved, festering mania and unwellness, self destruction and spiraling, all the while bearing the name of paradise.
When a place-name ends in -chester, it indicates a military camp or fort. Chester meaning, “place of soldiers.”
Snowchester itself was a last-ditch attempt at safety. It’s secluded and armed, the base of operations for nuclear weaponry. Truly, it was a place of soldiers. A place of Tubbo and Jack, two weary and sharp war veterans, trying to feel safe. Equally, it was a place of protection and family. Of, “I will be strong so you can be safe.”
Stead means, “enclosed pasture,” in Old English. A place-name ending in, “shire,” indicates that it is owned or governed by a government official. It is also the French word for, “county.” The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines a shire as, “a town where a court of superior jurisdiction…sits.”
Logstedshire; an enclosed pasture. A plains biome, sprawling and open, but so muted. So closed. Confined. Trapped. A place of harsh discipline, with a, “superior jurisdiction,” looming over its lonely occupant. How mocking to call it a county, an extension of a homeland, when it’s sole purpose was to be separate from it. Enclosed pasture, ruled by a superior jurisdiction, with a feeble string tying it to L’manberg in the form of the title, “county.” Enclosed forevermore, harboring the abuse like a time capsule, ash and dust undisturbed.
Boomerville and Rutabagville—
“-ville,” is a suffix used to indicate a village/town, or in the Middle Ages, a farming community.
Two towns, built for the purpose of getting away from the chaos, of having a small, peaceful land. Built so the few inhabitants could say, “I live here, I work here, the sun is gentle on my front porch.” So far out of the way that no one would notice if they just…disappeared. No one would bother check. One town abandoned, one town robbed. Both lay empty, at the end of the day.