The More You Know

I make no bones about the fact that I have long been – and still am – a fan of Ed Greenwood's Forgotten Realms setting. Of course, I do place an important caveat on that statement. When I say "Ed Greenwood's Forgotten Realms setting," I mean that quite literally. I'm a fan of the setting as Ed Greenwood originally presented it in the pages of Dragon magazine rather than the version(s) of the setting presented in products published by TSR and Wizards of the Coast. I still enjoy some of that later published material, but, for me, the Forgotten Realms that I love is the one Greenwood wrote about in his many Dragon articles, especially during the early to mid-1980s. That's why you'll find quite a few of those articles featured in my Articles of Dragon series.  

The reason for this is simple: those articles don't explain everything. Instead, they're filled with offhand references and allusions to people, places, and historical events without any clarification. Those references provide color and occasionally context, but their purpose isn't to give the reader a lengthy dissertation on the history of the Realms, let alone something more obscure. Strictly speaking, they could be stripped out of the description of that sword and it would still be perfectly usable in play. However, it wouldn't be as fun to read nor would it be as evocative. Those allusions create a sense of depth, making the world feel larger and more lived-in. They hint at a larger, interconnected setting filled with legends, conflicts, and figures whose stories remain untold. This approach also invites curiosity, encouraging the reader to imagine connections or even incorporate those elements into his own campaign. Without them, the text might be clearer but also flatter, lacking the richness that makes the setting feel like a place rather than just a backdrop.

Unfortunately, as Greenwood's setting was elaborated upon beyond those original articles, there wasn't a lot that remained forgotten about the Realms. With each new supplement, novel, or sourcebook, more of the implied history and mystery was brought into the light, codified, and explained in detail. While this expansion enriched the setting for dedicated fans, it also diminished some of its initial allure. The obscure references that once sparked my imagination were now meticulously documented, leaving less room for speculation. It was probably an inevitable outcome, given the demands of game publishing, but it's a little disappointing nonetheless.

While I've singled out the Forgotten Realms in this post, it's not the only imaginary setting that suffers from this problem. Even my beloved Tékumel, in which I've refereed the House of Worms campaign for just shy of ten years, has far too much background material than is necessary. In fact, in the case of Tékumel, the depth of background material can be as much a turn-off for newcomers as an enticement. The same could be said of other well-established settings, like Glorantha or the Third Imperium, both of which I love, by the way. I'm not approaching this simply from the perspective of ease of use but also one of enjoyment. I often feel as if less is more when it comes to many settings. Their allure is, to a great extent, their "empty spaces," which is to say, those parts that are, at best, alluded to rather than so fully fleshed out that every possible question already has an answer before play has begun.

I think about this a lot, as I soldier ahead with Secrets of sha-Arthan. Though sha-Arthan takes inspiration from RPG settings like Glorantha, Jorune, and, of course, Tékumel, I have been attempting to avoid their excesses when it comes to the presentation of the setting. That's why I've taken a few cues from those early Forgotten Realms articles, for example, and why I have no plans to produce an encyclopedia of sha-Arthan or anything even close to it. Instead, I want to present an exotic but accessible science fantasy setting with lots of mysteries I'll never solve and even more scope for referees and players to make it their own. In the coming weeks, I'll be sharing some examples of just how intend to do this.

In the meantime, I'm curious: what, in your opinion, is an example of a RPG setting that does a good job with its presentation – one that's compelling without being constraining? One that is rich with detail and atmosphere but leaves plenty of space for players and referees to make it their own? 

Fight On! Fights On

Editor extraordinaire, Ignatius Ümlaut, has informed me that issue #16 of the flagship fanzine of the Old School Renaissance, Fight On!, is now available in both print and digital forms. Dedicated to the late, great Dave Trampier, this 128-page issue includes excellent contributions by a wide variety of writers and artists – from Dave Hargrave and Tim Kask to Peter Mullen and Cameron Hawkey, not to mention Sean "Stonegiant" Stone, Oakes Spalding, Simon Bull, Gabor Lux, Kevin Mayle, Evlyn Moreau, Calithena, Paul Carrick, Sophie Pulkus, J. Blasso-Gieseke, bät, Attronarch, Philipp H., Settembrini, Robert S. Conley, Idle Doodler, DeWayne Rogers, Rick Base, Dyson Logos, Jon Salway, Becami Cusack, Tony A. Rowe, Prince of Nothing, Jasmine Collins, Anthony Stiller, Allan T. Grohe Jr., Will Mistretta, Steve Queen, Zhu Baijee, Thomas Denmark, and many, many more (including yours truly). 

It's this "ecumenical" approach to old school gaming that, in my opinion, distinguishes Fight On! Its contents are incredibly diverse, representing everything from the groggiest of grognard takes to more new-fangled, "old school-inspired" approaches. Not every article is going to appeal to everyone – and that's OK. Fight On! reminds me of what Dragon was like during my youth, when each issue was a grab-bag of the unexpected, some of which I could immediately use and some of which I only came to appreciate later. That's as it should be. Speaking only for myself, I know only too well how easy it is to get trapped inside my own head, limiting myself to my own comfortable ways of thinking. Fight On! shakes me out of my complacency, offering me ideas and imagery that I might otherwise not have considered. I have no doubt that it'll do the same for you.

The Articles of Dragon: "The Dragon Magazine Combat Computer"

Dragon magazine is, of course, most remembered for its many excellent articles published over the course of the three decades of its existence. This entire series of posts is a testament to just how many great articles there were – or at least how many articles captured my youthful imagination to the extent that I still remember them today, long after Dragon has ceased publication. However, there were other aspects of the magazine that I still recall fondly to this day, chief among them being the cardboard inserts found in the centerfolds of certain issues. These inserts were most frequently used for game boards, but occasionally they served a different purpose.

Perhaps the most memorable example of this occurred in issue #74 (June 1983), which included "The Dragon Magazine Combat Computer," designed by Laura and Tracy Hickman and brought to life by Roger Raupp. The titular Combat Computer is a pair of cardboard discs that, after being cut out, can be placed one on top of the other and connected with a brass paper fastener. When assembled, the topmost disc (the plate) can spin atop the lower disc (the base). Doing so enables the user to calculate the number needed to hit for any AD&D character of any class or level against any armor class. The Combat Computer even aids the user in making use of "weapon vs AC" adjustments that most people in my experience generally ignored.

Here's what the plate of the Combat Computer looks like, courtesy of the Dragonlance Saga website (yes, I am aware of the irony):

The Combat Computer is a clever piece of analog technology, from the days before desktop computers were commonplace. I absolutely loved it when I got my copy of issue #74 in the mail and made ready use of it. My main complaint was how flimsy it was. After months of carrying it around with me, the cardstock on which was printed started to bend and tear, rendering it less useful. To some extent, I'm to blame for this. I should have taken more care with it. I also probably should have headed the article's suggestion of gluing it to a second sheet of cardboard for increase durability.

Interestingly, the RPGA sold a product called the AD&D Fighting Wheel in its member-exclusive gift catalog that was very similar to the Combat Computer but made of plastic. I've never seen the Fighting Wheel for myself, only photos, so I can't speak to the quality of its manufacture. However, I imagine that simply being made of plastic would be a significant improvement over the Combat Computer. Even so, I retain many fond memories of the Combat Computer, many of them tinged with my current ambivalence about the tradeoffs we've made in embracing computers in nearly every aspect of life, even our hobbies – but that's a topic for another post ...

When Were You First Introduced to Roleplaying Games?

The ongoing results of the polls I've posted here over the last month have been very instructive in giving me a better understanding of Grognardia's readership. I've still got several more polls (at least) in the works before I attempt to draw any conclusions. Among those polls is today's, which I consider an important one: when were you first introduced to roleplaying games? My assumption has long been that most of my regular readers are middle-aged, the vast majority of whom entered the hobby during the period between 1979 and 1983, when Dungeons & Dragons was at the peak of its faddishness. However, that's just an assumption and may well be wrong.

So, for today's poll, I've presented lots of three-year periods – from 1974 to 2000 – in which readers can identify the period when they first started roleplaying. My apologies to anyone who entered the hobby from 2000 on. I've compressed the last quarter-century into a single option, both for my convenience and out of a sense that it'll still be a minority choice. If I'm wrong about that, I can always do a follow-up poll to distinguish between the various three-year blocs of the last 25 years.