Lore Bokkenriders

You know, writing steampunk is not as easy as it sounds. One reason is that it’s hard to stay in your lane. Despite all my thumping on the definition of the steampunk genre as being cyberpunk in the past, it can be rather boring to write pure steampunk. 

I’m not saying those stories are bad. Just a lot of science-fiction co

ncepts have already been explored, and simply placing them in a historical setting doesn’t really contribute anything new. And what’s the fun of using a historical period in a story if you’re not doing something interesting with it?

Hence, much of steampunk ends up being a blend of various genres. But to really make it work as steampunk, you need a vision—or at least a strong concept of what your story is about. Many steampunk writers are more of the pantser variety, or discovery writers as they’re sometimes called.

They go with whatever feels right to them. As a result, most things labeled “steampunk” are really just fantasy with a Victorian or steampunk aesthetic layered on top. The story itself is still typical fantasy.

There are notable exceptions. Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura is one of them. It’s fundamentally about tradition versus process. Dare I say it: it’s fantasy written as science fiction. People sometimes get upset when I say that, insisting it’s social critique—except that’s what most science fiction is. Or, as Ursula Le Guin put it, “everything is a metaphor.”

In this video I will demonstrate that steampunk isn't about gadgets and top hats with today's faction.

The Bokkenriders, or the Goat Riders For you Anglos out there.

I’ll be calling them Bokkenriders, because some names simply sound better in Dutch than in English. And since I assume “riders” isn’t easy for English speakers to pronounce, “riders” it is.

So who are they?

If you travel the rural areas of the southern Netherlands, northern France, and western Germany, you might come across abandoned estates. Castles turned to ruins. Manors heavily fortified, as though their former lords took up prepping as a hobby.

That isn’t paranoia—and the Bokkenriders are probably to blame.

They are an extremely violent cult that hides in the forests of regions like the Ardennes and terrorizes the surrounding countryside.

This is what they’re best known for.

In newspapers, they’re often depicted as simple brigands, inspired by the myths of the so-called Bokkenriders—a group of brigands or mercenaries supposedly active from the sixteenth century onward. 

So little is known about them that historians can’t even agree on whether they were merely a local myth, like Robin Hood, or an actual mercenary band associated with figures such as Maarten van Rossum or Grutte Pier.

Few people realize how deep the rabbit hole actually goes.

We’ve all heard of the Devil. In older biblical interpretations, the Devil was more of a judge—someone who tested faith. In modern pop culture, he’s the figure who makes offers you can’t refuse.

But one aspect people often misunderstand is that the Devil doesn’t want your soul. He wants your soul as far from God as possible.

This isn’t a monkey’s paw. He’ll give you what you want with no strings attached, because he doesn’t need to trick you. He just needs you to make the wrong choices. People who have everything they want tend to become self-absorbed—and see no need for God at all.

So do the Bokkenriders work for the Devil?

That depends on interpretation.

Nobody truly knows the origins of the modern Bokkenriders. What is known is that they are led by a figure known only as the Captain. Who he is—or whether he’s a genuine military captain at all—remains unclear.

Imagine being a young man wasting away in factories, or digging potatoes out of the earth by hand. On the horizon stand magnificent buildings, piercing the sky, promising comfort and meaning. And of course, you are not to blame for your situation. No—it’s the rich, the landowners, them.

Then one day, a well-groomed stranger approaches. He tells you that you can have everything you want. All he asks in return are small favors. Many young men with no prospects and a chip on their shoulder are tempted to say yes.

And the stranger keeps his promise.

At first, it’s just mischief. Then secrets. You’re told the world is ending. That everything you see will soon be swept away. You are part of a new generation, a new order. Everyone else is already obsolete. All you need to do is wait—and enjoy yourself until the inevitable arrives.

Congratulations. You are now a Bokkenrider.

Yes, you may now be engaging in vice, brutality, even human sacrifice—but you are on top. Might makes right. It’s not your fault others are weak. The world is ending anyway. Most people will die horribly regardless. Perhaps you’re doing them a favor by ending it early.

That is what it is like to be a Bokkenrider.

Do whatever you want.

Don’t misunderstand, the Bokkenriders aren’t about excess. On the contrary, they despise comfort, and what they revel in is violence. 

Being cultists, they do worship—but not as an organized religion. They worship whomever they please, whenever it suits them.

In that sense, they’re mercenaries and have no issue working alongside other cults. Some cults even send members to the Bokkenriders as a rite of passage—a test of devotion to separate the loyal followers from the weekend occultists.

Some investigators argue the Bokkenriders aren’t a cult at all, but a coalition: loose packs tied to different Wyrd cults. According to this hypothesis, “Bokkenrider” is less an affiliation than a title reserved for the most violent elements among the wyrd cults.

They also take mercenary contracts, which sounds strange for a group of bloodthirsty maniacs. But despite their fanaticism, the Bokkenriders maintain a carefully cultivated benevolent public face. Like the Captain himself, they deceive people into supporting them, often operating under names associated with alternative religion, folk mysticism, or occult spirituality.

Using their knowledge of local pagan traditions and so-called weird beasts, they embed themselves in regional occult communities. They may not give a damn about human life, but they are fascinated by alien fauna—and as their name implies, they are known to ride such creatures as well.

This connection to old traditions and strange beasts creates the false impression that the Bokkenriders are the descendants of an ancient druidic cult, supposedly suppressed by Christian authorities and now reclaiming their lost heritage. In this narrative, the horned goats are framed as misunderstood symbols of fertility, wilderness, or rebirth—rather than the heraldry of a violent death cult.

They actively encourage this interpretation.

The Bokkenriders are even known to lure followers into forest gatherings under the guise of “return to nature” rituals—communal rites meant to honor pagan gods and reconnect participants with the old ways. Songs are sung. Fires are lit. Masks are worn.

What the participants do not realize is that the ritual requires sacrifices.

And that they are those sacrifices.

It might seem strange for a group obsessed with strength and survival, but deception is central to their recruitment.

One of their most notorious members is Igor the Boneless.

Born severely disabled, Igor spent much of his life moving between hospitals in a wheelchair. His family treated him as a burden, passing him between relatives who resented him.

Igor was no innocent victim.

Aware of their hatred, he devoted himself to ruining their lives. He spread rumors, forged letters, and engineered feuds. What began as grievance became hobby. He expanded his manipulation to entire communities, turning neighbors against each other for his own amusement.

When his family was captured by the Bokkenriders, Igor asked to be killed last so he could enjoy their suffering. Before they died, he revealed everything he had done to them.

The Bokkenriders were impressed.

They adopted him.

Igor has coordinated many of their most elaborate plots since. Eventually, he was uncovered by the Association of Ishtar—but escaped. That alone speaks volumes about his intellect and cruelty.

You might assume this is an all-male faction. Mostly, you’d be right. Not because they’re misogynists, but because they prey on weakness. There are women among them. But they're like unicorns—rare, and worse than the men.

One of them is Black Belinda.

Belinda came from a rural family. But like her mother, she was a big girl and had a physique to match. Unfortunately, she usually used that strength to tear the hair out of other girls who teased her for her unusual size. But one time she really got carried away and nearly scalped a girl—Bare-handed. This was too much, and she was sent to a nunnery, hoping this would teach her some restraint. Instead, she beat the Bejesus out of her sister’s superior. And she will send her away to a workhouse. That didn't work out either. She poked one of the girl's eyes out with a fork and then escaped. 

In the forest, she encountered a band of Bokkenriders. When they tried to do what Bokkenriders do, she beat two of them into the ground. Impressed, they recruited her on the spot. Belinda is now one of their most sadistic members. Rumor holds that what she does to female victims horrifies even her packmates.

So yeah, with that, we’re close to concluding our introduction to some of the most sociopathic sadists you might come across. Do they have any redeeming qualities?

Well, it’s kind of hard to argue, “Well, yeah, they might be a bunch of sadistic rapists and murderers, BUT…”

I mean, their assumptions are not entirely wrong. The rifts might be the end of the world as we know it. And yes, maybe it is futile to preserve what we currently have when all of it is likely to be destroyed.

Even the Bible agrees that the weak will suffer as they must, while the strong do what they can.

That said, the Bokkenriders are all in it for themselves. They cause harm and destruction because they believe nothing is worth preserving. Not culture, nor morality or human dignity. They see people as nothing but slaves to dying systems of oppression. Cattle with which they can do whatever they want. All they care about is being the top dog of their pack one day. 

What's the captain's role in all this? Well, that's the thing. He is known to command the book of writers from time to time. But for everything else, he appears to be absent. And yet, his presence can be felt in everything they do.

So, what does this mean for the game?

The Bokkenriders were first introduced in the lore book on the Netherlands and Europe, Rising Tide.

For centuries, the Southern Netherlands has been believed to harbor men who turned away from God and pledged fealty to the Devil. These men, known as the Goat Riders, were said to ride goats through the night sky, terrorizing the countryside. Some dismiss the Goat Riders as mere rural legend, or as little more than a gang of common thugs. Yet in the provinces of Brabant and Limburg, darker forces are said to be at play—raiders consorting with demons, desecrating churches, and stealing virgins for human sacrifice.

The Bokkenrijders are said to have hidden themselves in the forests of Brabant, the Ardennes, and Lorraine, haunting the locals with eerie chants and horrid bleating. Their Faction Perks are Wyrd Ryder that allows them to use use Wyrd Beasts as mounts. And Wyrd Whisperer that allow them to control large groups of Wyrd Beasts without risk to themselves.

This makes them particularly versatile. Not only can they work for whatever cult you need them to be, and whatever god you want. They can also operate alongside wyrd beasts, either as companions or mounts. They’re also objectively evil, which makes combat encounters a lot more justified.

So yes—if you just want an objectively evil cult, complete with almost clownishly evil henchmen, the Bokkenriders are the way to go.

While the Bokkenriders may appear to be an exclusively European phenomenon, it’s easy to imagine a figure very similar to the Captain recruiting comparable groups elsewhere in the world. The Captain may not even be unique—he might simply be franchising, operating under different names with slight deviations in an already loose ideology.

There is really no wrong way to represent the Bokkenriders in your campaigns. These packs will worship whatever you want, whenever you want, and always carry the menace of those who simply want to see the world burn for its own sake.

As for combat, the most important thing to remember is that they are one of the few human factions capable of commanding wyrd beasts with relatively little risk to themselves. In terms of weapons and tactics, they often behave like cavalry. Imagine perks similar to dragoons, hussars, or lancers. While they are a back-to-nature cult, nothing prevents them from using advanced weaponry—especially when operating as mercenaries for another faction.

Nothing prevents them from working with other factions. The problem is that most factions are afraid of working with them—especially if the Bokkenriders are operating close to home. They are ideal for frontier regions, where rule of law is already weak. If there are native tribes or frontier settlements that need to disappear, the Bokkenriders are an effective solution. Their reputation alone often prevents people from suspecting a third party behind the mass murder of an entire settlement.

If players are hired to take out the Bokkenriders, they may initially assume it’s a simple search-and-destroy mission. Only after examining the Bokkenriders’ correspondence might they realize they were employed by another party entirely.

And that’s assuming the Bokkenriders are operating openly.

Players might instead be drawn into a series of missing-person cases, unaware that Bokkenriders are masquerading as a harmless druidic cult performing human sacrifices.

So whether you’re running combat-heavy or investigative campaigns, the Bokkenriders can always make an appearance. They can even manipulate wyrd beasts in such a way that it initially appears no cult involvement exists at all.

Getting back to my opening on steampunk: is this a steampunk faction?

On the surface, the Bokkenriders are just violent wildmen—and that is intentional. They are meant to look like familiar bad guys. What stops them from being just another evil faction is that they are a response to a changing world.

The men who join them are fueled by resentment. They blame modernity for their failures and see the current status quo as illegitimate. That resentment makes destruction feel justified. Add to that the belief that the world is about to end, and you get a philosophy where nothing else matters.

Steampunk is often about amplifying technology—using machines to reshape society, improve it, or at least understand it. The Bokkenriders are the antithesis of that idea. They are not explicitly Luddites, but they reject progress entirely. Where steampunk imagines better worlds, the Bokkenriders insist no world is worth saving.

In that sense, they are absolutely a steampunk faction.

And that goes to show that steampunk isn't just about gadgets and top hats.