Retrospective: Lost Tomb of Martek

Despite my well known gripes about the lasting impact of Tracy Hickman on the development of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (and, by extension, all roleplaying games), I nevertheless have a genuine affection for his "Desert of Desolation" trilogy. To some extent, it's probably a consequence of a childhood fascination with all things ancient Egyptian. The Egyptians competed with the Romans in my young imagination for the most thoroughly compelling ancient civilization, a place they still hold to this day. 

For that reason, I purchased Pharaoh as soon as I could a copy back in 1982 and still consider module I3 a pretty good adventure even today. Its immediate sequel, Oasis of the White Palm, is nowhere near as good, even if it does contain a number of memorable – and imaginative – elements. Lost Tomb of Martek, the final module in the series, carries forward many of the virtues and vices of its predecessors, while also magnifying them to such a degree that module I5 almost feels like it belongs to a different series entirely. It is grandiose, whimsical, and often overwrought, an adventure that stretches AD&D into forms it had not explored at the time.

Lost Tomb of Martek appeared near the end of D&D’s Golden Age, a period when TSR was openly experimenting with what its adventures could be. The company had not yet settled into the strongly narrative, almost novel-like structure that would crystallize in Dragonlance, but the trajectory was already visible. In this sense, Lost Tomb of Martek occupies a fascinating middle ground. It gestures toward the story-driven design that was soon to dominate TSR’s output, yet it avoids the worst excesses of that approach. Like the other installments in the “Desert of Desolation” trilogy, this one is still very much a transitional work.

Lost Tomb of Martek brings together the threads laid down in Pharaoh and Oasis of the White Palm, both of which seeded the legend of Martek, the wizard who foresaw the release of a powerful efreeti and prepared the means for its defeat. With the three Star Gems already in hand, the characters must cross the Skysea, an expanse of fused glass requiring a cloudskate, to reach Martek’s tomb and his Sphere of Power. Once they arrive, however, the adventure’s focus shifts unevenly. The first portion features the quarrelsome descendants of trapped paladins and thieves, a tonal misstep at odds with the overall self-seriousness of the module. Worse still, the scenario introduces three NPC thieves who can steal the Star Gems and force the party into a prolonged (and tedious) chase.

The adventure’s structural weaknesses become most evident once the adventure segues into a scavenger hunt across three disparate magical locales. Each site is imaginative, but only the Mobius Tower translates that imagination into compelling play. The other two are rich in concept yet mechanically thin, offering little beyond random encounters or single-solution puzzles. The result is an adventure overflowing with inventive imagery but frustratingly light on satisfying gameplay, especially when measured against the modules that preceded it. Even the polished presentation, including Martek’s climactic resurrection and the excellent maps and art, cannot fully mask an ambition that consistently outstrips its execution.

That same ambition is also responsible for many of the module’s deeper flaws. The adventure is so tightly scripted that player action routinely suffers. Characters are expected to follow a predetermined sequence of events, activating artifacts and triggering scenes exactly on cue. Inevitably, the players become spectators to a story already decided rather than adventurers shaping their own course. Even the most imaginative settings lose some of their wonder when the only viable path forward is the one Hickman has laid out in advance.

Yet, for all these shortcomings, Lost Tomb of Martek remains strangely compelling. It stands as an artifact of a transitional moment in RPG design, just before a more rigid orthodoxy narrowed expectations about what a published module should be. Its flaws are the flaws of exuberance, not cynicism. Hickman’s heavy-handed guidance stems from a genuine desire to present something like a fantasy epic in RPG form. However flawed the execution, his sincerity is unmistakable.

Perhaps age has softened me, but I cannot bring myself to dislike the module. I would not choose to run it today, yet it contains ideas worth salvaging. Its locations, artifacts, and encounters could all reward a referee willing to reshape them into a more open-ended framework. Even the plot, for all its railroading, could be retooled into a looser, more player-driven experience with modest effort. One could, of course, invent entirely new material instead but, in the interest of being constructive, I think Lost Tomb of Martek offers just enough to make it worth the effort.