The Curse of the Pharaohs is an expansion pack for the popular video game Assassin's Creed Origins. Released in 2018, it takes players on a thrilling journey through ancient Egypt, where they must uncover the mysteries surrounding a curse that haunts the pharaohs. In this expansion, players control Bayek, the game's protagonist, as he travels to the city of Thebes to investigate a mysterious and deadly curse that has been plaguing the pharaohs of Egypt. As Bayek delves deeper into the secrets of the curse, he must navigate treacherous tombs, battle powerful mythical creatures, and uncover the truth behind the ancient legends. One of the highlights of this expansion is the stunning depiction of the ancient city of Thebes. The developers have painstakingly recreated the city's architecture, landmarks, and vibrant atmosphere, immersing players in the world of ancient Egypt.
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However, we do find a similar Latin term sacerdos civitatis , male priest of the state, used by Tacitus in Book X of his Germania, which would fit the bill. We can view pagan priests as in some way artists, who used paint either for visual representations or body painting as part of their religious practices.
The developers have painstakingly recreated the city's architecture, landmarks, and vibrant atmosphere, immersing players in the world of ancient Egypt. From the imposing statues and towering temples to the bustling markets and lively streets, every detail of Thebes feels true to the time period. The Curse of the Pharaohs also introduces new gameplay mechanics and features.
Magic Words – an etymological archeology of Anglo-Saxon witchery
Today we look at several Anglo-Saxon words relating to magic see if they can tell us anything about prechristian Germanic religion. All we know about Germanic religion comes either from Roman authors under the Empire, Christian polemics in the dark ages, or very late manuscripts from Scandinavia. Outside of the Scandinavian sources, which are of course invaluable, we know very little. Jakob Grimm, in his monumental C19th work Teutonic Mythology, tried to fill in the gaps using a combination of etymology and folklore. It is this etymological path which I wish to follow here. By using etymology to speculate what a word originally meant in pre-migration German, we may be able to learn things about pre-conversion religion in England centuries later which are invisible in textual sources written only decades after conversion.
The words I will be examining are the following:
teafor, atiefran, tifrung
burgrune, leodrune, hellerune
wicca, wicce
hægtesse
Teafor
The modern German word for sorcery and enchantment is Zauber, and a wizard is a Zauberer. Mozart’s opera die Zauberflöte (the Magic Flute) would be familiar to many non-German speakers. The link between German Zauber, magic, and its certain OE cognate teafor, paint, is intriguing. Teafor in Old English never means magic. It only occurs a few times and represents (i) red ochre and (ii) gum for making a salve. Note that its descendent ‘tiver’ was (is?) a dialectical name for sheep marking, which is paint mixed with tar to make it stick to the wool. So a connection between paint and gum is not hard to understand – we can think of teafor as sticky paint which can be smeared on. Rather like modern theatrical greasepaint, which contains zinc, ochre and lard.
What the original connection could be between paint and magic, however, is far less clear. Grimm both speculated that magic runes might have been coloured, drawing a parallel with the use of red ochre (rubric) in manuscripts. I must say I don’t find this particularly convincing as one can do so much more with paint that simply colouring letters. More generally, magic symbols may have been painted on the ground or on the walls. Idols are also very likely to have been painted. Or magicians may have painted themselves, as contemporary shamans sometimes do. In all these cases, a sorcerer would be using paint as an important part of their materials.
The meaning ‘magic’ is shared between continental West Germanic and Old Norse reflexes of the word zauber/teafor. Although we should never discount the possibility of semantic cross-pollenation, particularly at an early stage when North Germanic and West Germanic were closer and probably mutually intelligible, it is more likely that this shared meaning shows that ‘magic’ was part of the meaning at a very early stage. It is hard to see how “magic” could later come to mean “paint”, so it is most likely that the word once combined both meanings and meant something like “magic paint”.
It is possibly significant that the related words recorded in Bosworth-Toller, atiefran and tifrung, refer to figurative painting. Maybe the principal painters of images in Germanic societies were priests. Only a century after conversion, Anglo-Saxon Christian monks, who probably came from the same social classes as the former priests, were skilled artists (see the Lindisfarne and St Cuthbert Gospels ).
Australian Aboriginal Medicine Man with Body Paint
Runan
The meaning of the three “rune” words needs some teasing out. A run (no -e), as well as meaning a rune, meant a whisper, a secret, a mystery. The derived verb runian meant only to whisper, but one commonly whispers secrets. A rune (plural runan) is a wise woman, the feminine of (ge-)runa, counsellor. We find the feminine only in compounds.
Combined with hell(e), hell, we find both hell-runa (sorcerer) and helle-rune (sorceress), (cf. OHG helliruna, necromancy) with a meaning of someone expert in the mysteries of hell, i.e. a necromancer. This is very likely to be the same word as a term in Jordanes Getica, Book XXIV, haliurunnas, which refers to witches among the Goths. Grimm gives a different etymology based on the reading ‘aliorumnas’, but the reading is suspect. It matches a reading in the 3 manuscripts classified by Mommsen as class ii. Grimm gives a number of variant forms all without ‘h’, but none of them match the readings by Mommsen. Mommsen gives forms without ‘h’ in only 4 ms. Haliurunnae is the reading of 7 manuscripts, including all of Mommsen’s class i and most of his class iii, which comes from a separate source. The readings without the ‘h’ all come from the class ii manuscripts which Mommsen says come from the same source as class i, and which he regards as inferior. So the reading with ‘h’ is as good as it is possible to get, given the state of the manuscripts. The first element matches the Gothic word for hell, halja. The second element (runnae) looks very like runan, although the duplication of ‘n’ has caused some doubts. Nevertheless, the chances of a random connection between West Germanic original hellerune and this Gothic word is small and it is most likely that the word is cognate with OE hellerune.
The story in Jordanes is worth repeating:
Filimer, king of the Goths, … found among his people certain witches, whom he called in his native tongue Haliurunnae. Suspecting these women, he expelled them from the midst of his race and compelled them to wander in solitary exile afar from his army. There the unclean spirits, who beheld them as they wandered through the wilderness, bestowed their embraces upon them and begat this savage race, which dwelt at first in the swamps,–a stunted, foul and puny tribe, scarcely human, and having no language save one which bore but slight resemblance to human speech. Such was the descent of the Huns who came to the country of the Goths.
This is certainly a great morality tale about how not to treat witches! Filimer feared them and expelled them from among his people and they gave birth to the Huns, who later came and conquered the Goths. The main value in this story, however, is the fact that Gothic possessed the same word as OE, which means that hellerune was a pre-christian pan-germanic concept.
Gauls Meeting a Goth
What is meant by burgrune and leodrune is far from clear. Neither has an extant masculine counterpart. Burgrune is used only to translate Latin for female figures from classical mythology, the Parcae and the Furiae. If it only glossed the Parcae, one could speculate that it was a manufactured compound capturing the protective role of the parcae. Latin parcere (spare) has a similar meaning to OE beorgan, which is related to burg, town. But the fact that it also glosses the Furiae makes this unlikely. It seems then that burgrune is a preexisting compound, which meant “wise woman of the town”. However, the meaning of burg in very early Germanic society cannot have been the same as its later meaning, as the Germans did not have towns. The most likely early meaning of burg was a “refuge castle” (German Fliehburg) or a hill-fort. Refuge castles could have christian chapels inside them (see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tönsberg#Hünenkapelle), while hill-forts sometimes had (pagan) temples built inside them (see en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hillfort#Types_of_hill_fort). I have been unable to locate any academic work on the connection between early proto-towns and temples, but it seems likely they were associated. The pagan religious complex at Yeavering, for example, was built on the site of an Iron Age hill-fort (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yeavering). So a burgrune may have originally been a priestess associated with a fortified temple.
Reconstruction of Yeavering
The term leodrune is only found in a late medicinal work Bald’s Leechbook. The original editor (Cockayne) translated it as “spell, incantation”, which might have been correct if it had been leoðrun, but it wasn’t. However, as it stands, its components mean “wise woman of the people”. If there ever was an equivalent male role, *leodruna, it has not come down to us. However, we do find a similar Latin term sacerdos civitatis, (male) priest of the state, used by Tacitus in Book X of his Germania, which would fit the bill. Tacitus also points to the role of priestesses in his Book VIII, where he says: Inesse quin etiam sanctum aliquid et providum putant, nec aut consilia earum aspernantur aut responsa neglegunt. (They even believe that the sex has a certain sanctity and prescience, and they do not despise their counsels, or make light of their answers.)
It seems that in burgrune and leodrune we are looking at words which originally referred to respected female community advisors, probably with a religious function, probably priestesses. The meaning subsequently changed to “pagan sorceress” with the conversion to Christianity. The term hellerune, on the other hand, points to an original female soothsayer, which was not necessarily identical with the other runan.
Wiccan
The modern word “witch” goes back to Old English. Witches were not originally only female. Beside the OE feminine wicce, sorceress, soothsayer, we find a masculine wicca. Various words for their practices are found, including wiccung = witching, and wiccecræft. Middle High German had a word wicken, which meant ‘work with a probing instrument, dance, hop, do magic, tell the future’. (http://www.koeblergerhard.de/mhd/mhd_w.html). All these meanings look remarkably like the sort of things a shaman would do. Wicce/wicca is related to the word wih, idol, which means temple in Old Saxon, and to the German word weihen, consecrate. These connections point to an original role of witches as priests and priestesses, shamans and soothsayers. [Correction 7.6.2020 – I no longer believe that it is correct to connect Wicce/wicca with wih and weihen. I must have been bewitched when I made this error! There is a strict distinction between ‘h’ and ‘c’ in these positions in Anglo-Saxon and Germanic in general. Wicce/wicca are NOT related to wih and weihen. Wicce/wicca are instead possibly related to words denoting (time-related) change, including E. ‘week’ and G. Wechsel, change. However, any connection with these words is too remote to tell us anything useful. So the evidence for the words wicce/wicca does point to shamanism and soothsaying but not to priesthood.]
Hægtessan
Finally, we come to another word for witch – hægtesse. This is cognate with OHG hazissa, hazussa and so goes back to the time before the Anglo-Saxons migrated to Britain. The first element probably means hedge, although other explanations (wood, skillful) have been put forward. The second element, -tesse, is probably the same as the Norwegian dialectical word tysja, fairy, indicating some kind of elf. Unlike the runan and the wiccan, who were priestesses and/or soothsayers, the hægtessan were mythical non-human creatures who came from beyond the boundaries of society (the hedge indicating the boundary).
Summary
So using the magic of etymology to study surviving words relating to the supernatural, it is possible to deduce some otherwise unknown features of Germanic pagan society. It is likely that these features continued in England right up to the time of the conversion. We can view pagan priests as in some way artists, who used paint (either for visual representations or body painting) as part of their religious practices. We can find confirmation for the existence of a class of respected wise women priestesses and male priests who operated from temples and advised the people on religious affairs. Finally, we can see that the later concept of a witch was a confluence of the idea of a pagan sorceress with the idea of a kind of elf-like creature which lived outside but in close proximity to human society.
Players will encounter formidable boss battles against mythical creatures such as giant scorpions, Anubis soldiers, and even undead pharaohs. To defeat these powerful foes, Bayek can utilize new weapons, abilities, and gear that are specifically designed to combat them. In addition to the main storyline, the expansion also offers a variety of side quests and activities for players to engage in. These include exploring hidden tombs, solving puzzles, and completing missions for the citizens of Thebes. Each quest provides additional insights into the curse and deepens the player's understanding of ancient Egyptian mythology. The visuals and audio design in The Curse of the Pharaohs are also top-notch. The graphics are stunning, with rich detail and vibrant colors that bring the ancient world to life. The soundtrack is hauntingly beautiful, capturing the mystique and grandeur of ancient Egyptian culture. Overall, The Curse of the Pharaohs is a captivating expansion pack that delivers an immersive and engaging experience for players. From its stunning visuals and audio design to its compelling storytelling and addictive gameplay, it is a must-play for fans of Assassin's Creed Origins and anyone with an interest in ancient Egyptian history and mythology..
Reviews for "Unraveling the Curse: Decoding the Hieroglyphics of AC Origins' Curse of the Pharaohs"
1. John - 2 out of 5 stars
I was really disappointed with the Curse of the Pharaohs DLC for Assassin's Creed Origins. The main issue I had was the repetitive gameplay. It felt like I was doing the same tasks over and over again, with little variation. Additionally, the story felt lacking and didn't captivate me like the main game did. Overall, I was underwhelmed by this DLC and wouldn't recommend it to others.
2. Emily - 3 out of 5 stars
I have mixed feelings about the Curse of the Pharaohs DLC for Assassin's Creed Origins. While the Egyptian setting and mythology were interesting, I found the combat to be frustrating and unbalanced. The difficulty spikes were incredibly steep, making it feel unfair at times. The boss battles were particularly frustrating, requiring a lot of trial and error to defeat them. While there were some enjoyable moments, the overall experience failed to live up to my expectations.
3. Sarah - 2 out of 5 stars
I found the Curse of the Pharaohs DLC for Assassin's Creed Origins to be a letdown. The graphics and visuals were stunning, as always, but the tedious and repetitive side quests were a major turn-off for me. It felt like there wasn't enough substance to the expansion, and the missions became monotonous quickly. The story also didn't engage me as much as I had hoped. Overall, I wouldn't recommend investing in this DLC unless you're a die-hard fan of the series.