My Own Cover Band

First, a couple of brief updates:

I’m still hard at work on the first draft of the second edition of Thousand Suns and, while it’s going well, it’s not moving quite as quickly as I had originally hoped. I’m still on schedule to complete most of the draft before I head off to Rome, but a few sections of it, including the High Struggle rules, probably won’t be among them. More information on the development of Thousand Suns (and my other writing projects) can be found over at Grognardia Games Direct, while the actual drafts of the second edition are available to my patrons.

Partly because of this, I won’t be returning to regular posting on this blog until after I return from Rome. I’ve got a great deal on my plate over the next three weeks and simply won’t have the time to devote to anything more than intermittent blogging until the second week of June at the earliest.

I say “partly,” because that’s not the whole story behind my break from regular blogging. Certainly, it’s a significant part of the reason – I really am focused on Thousand Suns right now – but it’s not the only one. Another part is that I feel as if I’m running out of things to say.

I realize that sounds rather ominous, even dire, and I don’t mean it to be. Feeling as if I’m running out of things to say is not the same thing as actually running out of things to say. Given my nature, I suspect only death will prevent me from having opinions about roleplaying games and science fiction and fantasy literature. At the same time, I do think it’s true that the way I’ve been writing Grognardia since at least my return in 2020 is unsustainable and that I need to remedy that.

To explain what I mean, what follows is going to be a bit self-reflective and “philosophical,” for lack of a better word, and I apologize for that. I don’t want to bore anyone with the ins and outs of my thought processes, but I can think of no better way to provide context for what I said above. Besides, externalizing my thoughts through writing has always been one of the ways I sort them out and find my way, however haltingly, toward solutions.

Broadly speaking, I have two recurring “problems” when writing this blog and they’re related. The first is one I’ve mentioned before in other contexts. After just shy of 5000 posts since 2008 – 4982 as of now – the odds are good that I’ve already written about almost every remotely old school RPG topic I can easily imagine. That’s obviously not literally true, as evidenced by the fact that I still occasionally strike gold even in well-mined veins of gaming history and discussion, but I’m not exaggerating when I say that I regularly struggle to find a genuinely new topic about which to write.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve begun a post on some subject and, as I search through the archives for a relevant link, realized that I’d already written about the same topic, sometimes even using the same title. That would be frustrating for anyone, I suspect. It’s especially frustrating for me because I used to have no trouble finding things to write about each day. One need only look at the first few years of the blog to see that, during the 2008–2011 period, I was often making two posts every single day. That’s a level of output I haven’t achieved in years and likely never will again.

Thinking back on the beginning of this blog brings me to the second problem with which I’ve been grappling: the increasingly recursive feel of RPG discussions. Grognardia has always included lots of commentary about both gaming history and game design. That was, I think, a big part of its original appeal during the early days of the OSR. After nearly a decade of Third Edition Dungeons & Dragons, a lot of us longed for the freedom and exuberance we remembered from the hobby’s earlier years. The OSR gave voice to a genuine desire to recover the things about roleplaying games that had once so appealed to us and I think it was largely successful in that endeavor.

There was a vital energy and effortless creativity in the early days of Grognardia. The blog was buoyed by the rising tide of enthusiasm for older RPGs and, in turn, offered ideas and commentary that contributed to that tide. It was a virtuous cycle and I’m still very proud to have been part of it. Likewise, whenever I see someone reference “Gygaxian naturalism” or “the oracular power of dice,” it pleases me greatly, because I’m reminded that I did, in however modest a way, contribute something worthwhile to the understanding and appreciation of old school roleplaying.

Nowadays, though, I often feel as if I’m making ever finer distinctions with diminishing returns for everyone involved. Whereas the early OSR was filled with Big Ideas and bold (and occasionally ill-considered) opinions, in recent years I’ve increasingly felt as if I’m repeating things I said better a more than a decade ago. To put it another way, I sometimes worry that I’m becoming my own cover band. A good performer knows when it’s time to leave the stage and I don’t want to become a parody of myself.

At the same time, I still feel a great deal of energy and creativity when it comes to my own projects, like Thousand Suns and Secrets of sha-Arthan. I doubt either of them will ever have the same broad appeal as my best Grognardia posts once did, which is why I’ve largely segregated discussion of them to my Substack. They don’t quite fit on Grognardia in the same way and there’s probably no point in pretending otherwise.

For obvious reasons, I’m deeply attached to Grognardia. I’m not yet at the point where I wish to abandon it for good. At the same time, I am at a point where I question its purpose. This isn’t 2010 and the OSR, to the extent that it can still be said to exist in any coherent sense, is very different from what it was during the blog’s heyday. Grognardia is different too and that's not necessarily a bad thing. After all, not every endeavor can or should remain frozen at the moment of its greatest cultural relevance. Blogs, like people, age and change. These facts by no means invalidate what's come before. If anything, it may simply mean that the role Grognardia once played is no longer the role it needs to play now.

Of course, I don’t yet know exactly what that means in practice. The one thing I do know is that the conditions that originally gave rise to this blog in 2008 cannot be recreated and that trying to do so is a recipe for frustration. If, upon my return, I'm to keep posting here as I have for so long, some things will have to change. To be clear, I don’t view this as a cause for despair. If I feel any frustration, it’s mostly the frustration of recognizing that a thing which once came effortlessly to me now requires more deliberation and care. That’s hardly unique to blogging or even to writing generally, though it's new experience for me.

In any event, I wanted to explain why posting here may continue to be somewhat irregular for the foreseeable future. Grognardia still matters to me. I’m simply trying to determine what shape it ought to take in the months and, I hope, years ahead – and whether I can find a way forward that feels both honest and worthwhile.

In the meantime, thank you all for continuing to read. Your continued support, appreciation, and encouragement have meant the world to me. More soon, I hope!

The Eternal City

I know that I made some of you aware of this earlier, but, as the time draws closer, I thought I'd share the information more widely. Between May 31 and June 7, I will be in Rome, Italy on a brief holiday. 

I also know that I have a number of readers and colleagues in Italy, though I am unsure how many of you live in or near Rome. Assuming it's possible, I'd love to meet some of you, since I can't say when I'll ever be in Europe again. The last time I did so was in the late 1980s, when I was an exchange student in England (and, before that, when I was born in the Netherlands). I'm not much of a world traveler, but I couldn't pass up the chance to see Rome when the opportunity arose.

Naturally, I've already got a number of excursions and visits planned during my trip. However, I also have a few days when I'm also quite free. Those times would be perfect for any meet-ups that might occur.

I realize, of course, I'm sharing this with comparatively little advance warning, so meeting up might present logistical problems. Still, I felt I ought to make everyone aware of this in the event that something could be arranged. I have lots of fun at Gamehole Con each year meeting my fellow roleplayers in North America. I imagine I'd enjoy doing so in Italy as well.

The High Struggle (Part II)

My attention remains on the first draft of Thousand Suns second edition for a while longer. However, for those of you who care about that project, I'd ask you to head over to Grognardia Games Direct, where I provide updates on it, like this one.

The High Struggle (Part II) by James Maliszewski

A Preview of a Preview

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"Your Own Cover Band"

I'm still hard at work finishing up the first draft of the second edition of Thousand Suns, so I'm not yet ready to return to regular blogging here. However, I recently read something that helped me organize some thoughts I'd been having for a while and I thought they might be worth sharing, especially in light of my advocacy for long RPG campaigns. 

As you know, I'm a big fan of science fiction. Truth be told, I much prefer sci-fi to fantasy, despite the fact that I've probably played more fantasy roleplaying games than science fiction ones over the course of the last 45 years of gaming. That said, I'm very particular about my science fiction. I don't like everything with a spaceship or robot on its cover and, as I get older, I find my tastes are getting ever more picky. Consequently, I tend to be skeptical when someone recommends that I pick up a new SF novel, because I've been burned one too many times in the past. I'd much rather reread an old classic than take a chance on new stuff and be disappointed.

Still, a friend of mine recently recommended I take a look at "The Captive's War" series by James S.A. Corey, who was also responsible for "The Expanse" (which I've never read). The new series is planned as a trilogy and the second volume just came out, only two years after the first one. Both of these facts piqued my interest, because I have no patience for interminable series or series whose volumes aren't released at regular intervals. I don't want to wait until I have one foot in the grave before I see the end of a story. 

Still, my natural apprehension made me look into these books a bit more before committing to reading them. I figured I owed it to myself to know what I might be getting into if I decided to take the plunge. In the process of doing so, I came across a recent interview with the "author" – really two authors,. Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck, with a shared pen name, but I'm sure most of you already know that – that includes some genuinely interesting and insightful comments about the writing process and ultimate direction of the series. It's these comments that sparked this post and about which I want to write for a bit before returning to the salt mines once again.

Consider, for example, the following:

“We live in a world where every large universe is supposed to be endlessly flogged,” Franck says. “Star Wars is never going to stop. It's told the same story a thousand times at this point. The evil Empire has been defeated over and over and over again. It always comes back. Plucky Rebels have to defeat the new iteration of it over and over and over again. It just endlessly repeats. And Star Trek is the same way. If you have a big universe, it is expected you will just keep dipping in that well over and over until you die, and then somebody else will take over and do it for you. Daniel and I don't enjoy that. We like endings. We like getting to an end: ‘Here's the end, and it's over.’”

I could probably devote several posts to the above alone, but instead I want to focus on what was said immediately after this: 

Franck credits Abraham for coming up with a saying that sums up their feelings about longrunning series: “At some point, if you keep going, you become your own cover band.”

“We never want to do that,” Franck says. “We never want to become our own cover band, where you're just endlessly repeating what you said, and writing a slightly different version of the same story you've written a thousand times before. That would bore the shit out of me.”

These comments really hit home, having just concluded my decade-long House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign last October. Since then, I've been regularly asked what I might do the next time I decide to referee a Tékumel campaign and my answer has always been, "Nothing: I don't plan to run a Tékumel campaign ever again." That's not for lack of love for the setting – quite the contrary, in fact. It's precisely because I do love Tékumel and all that my players and I did with it through the House of Worms campaign that I'll never touch it again. 

This is not a new point of view for me; I've articulated it before. I'm very much of the opinion that it's quite possible – probable even – that you can reach a point where there's nothing left to explore through a particular setting or game. I feel that way about Tékumel for certain and I probably feel that way about a number of other RPG settings I've played extensively over the years. Again, it's not for lack of affection for these settings. My disinterest in returning to, say, the Forgotten Realms says nothing about whether I like the setting, only that I feel I've sucked all the marrow from its bones and now am looking for new sources of nourishment.

When I say this, many people look at my like I've got two heads. Some have even tried to (gently) suggest that maybe I'm lacking in imagination if I think I couldn't run more adventures in this or that setting that they know and love. The truth is I could run more adventures or even whole campaigns in Tékumel or the Realms (or Star Trek or ...) but why would I? There are so many more worlds to explore through roleplaying. Why keep revisiting the same ones over and over again? 

That's what the quoted sections of the interview got me thinking about and I think it's a topic worthy of further discussion. There's a lot of talk these days about living in a "stuck culture" and I definitely think there's something to this. I may be old but that doesn't mean I want to see everything from my youth – never mind the youths of my parents – forever recycled. It's OK to move on. It's OK to seek out new things and new ideas. That I, writing on this blog of all places, am saying this probably means something. Just what I don't can't quite say. Perhaps that'll be another blog post when I find the time to write it.

Underground

I'm not dead, but I am deep in the proverbial salt mines, working hard to complete the first draft of the second edition of Thousand Suns. I'm making excellent progress on this particular project and don't want to slow the momentum, so that means that I'm devoting myself fully to it. That also means – unfortunately – that daily blogging is lower on my priority list and will remain so for a bit longer. How much longer, I can't rightfully guess.

Rest assured: I shall return when I've completed the draft. In the meantime, I may make a few posts at Grognardia Games Direct about the state of the second edition and will continue to share my drafts at Advanced Grognardia during this pause. I may even pop in here with a post or two if an idea gets into my head that I feel compelled to share. However, for the next few weeks, Thousand Suns owns me.

See you soon!

Lingvo Tera

Lingvo Tera by James Maliszewski

Thoughts on Language in Thousand Suns

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Retrospective: Earthshaker!

I mentioned in yesterday's "The Articles of Dragon" post that, by 1985, I had begun to sense a nebulous but nevertheless real shift in TSR Hobbies and its games, though I could not then have really articulated what precisely it was that I was sensing. Even now, with the benefit of hindsight, I'm still not entirely sure I can pinpoint what my younger self was picking up on – but I don't think I was mistaken in my hunch. That's why I thought it might be worthwhile to take a look at some of TSR's releases around this time to see what they were like and what, if anything, they might reveal about the early years of the Silver Age of Dungeons & Dragons.

That's where the subject of today's Retrospective post comes in. David Cook's Earthshaker!, written for use with 1984's D&D Companion Rules, is a very unusual adventure module, containing many of the elements that mark this transitional period for TSR and its games. It's very clearly an attempt to try something different, both in terms of subject matter and tone. For example, Cook, in the "How to Run This Adventure" section, notes that "this is not an entirely serious adventure." That's not to say it's a "joke" module, but neither is it self-serious in its presentation. Like I said, it's an attempt to try something different and, on that front at least, it succeeds.

The module takes its name from a massive, magically powered war machine that trundles across the landscape, leaving destruction in its wake. At once a fortress, a vehicle, and an engine of conquest, the Earthshaker is a mobile threat that cannot simply be ignored or bypassed. In some ways, it's also an interesting inversion of the traditional dungeon. Rather than the character venturing into a static, well established locale, the "dungeon" comes to them in the form of an Empire State Building-sized steam-powered robot. Most of the adventure takes the form of the characters have to infiltrate this immense machine and stop its relentless march across the domain of a local lord (who can either be an NPC or, if the Companion rules are being fully used, one of the player characters). 

The adventure begins with the arrival of traveling impresario, Formiesias of Thyatis, who has made his way to the Kingdom of Norwold with his Exhibition of Wonders. Chief among these wonders is Earthshaker. Formiesias does not know the origin of the device, though he recounts several legends about it, one of which claims that it was once an evil giant who, upon having the gem that contained his soul stolen, he turned to iron. A clan of gnomes dwells within Earthshaker and they're responsible for its operation. In fact, Formiesias doesn't really understand its operation himself, though he does command a unique spell that enables him to transport the giant machine from place to place without its having to walk across – and destroy – the countryside.

Enter a group of villains who've managed to obtain the soul gem Formiesias mentioned. Turns out that it's not merely a legend but real and the key to seizing control of Earthshaker. The main action of the adventure, therefore, is the characters attempting to stop them from reaching the Brain Deck of the machine and, with it, command of the ancient device. It's a pretty straightforward premise for a scenario, all things considered, even conventional. What sets it apart is the locale in which it takes place.

A map is provided of the Earthshaker’s interior, divided into a series of decks stacked on top of each other. Unlike a more traditional dungeon, most of these decks aren't keyed with encounters or treasure. Instead, they're simply described as environments in which battles against the villains can take place, as the characters try to foil their plan. There's also some information on the inner working of the Earthshaker, too, but it's limited in scope. The Earthshaker is supposed to be this mysterious, ancient thing rather than something explicable.

Despite Cook's suggestion that Earthshaker! is not entirely serious, I don't detect too much in the way of humor. Certainly the gnomes who inhabit it possess a degree of whimsy that's reminiscent (probably intentionally) of the tinker gnomes of Dragonlance, but their presence here does not overwhelm the overall situation the module describes. Likewise, some of the NPCs, like Formiesias and even the villains, have a flamboyance that borders on comical, yet I don't feel they cross the line into parody. It wouldn't be wrong to call Earthshaker! "light hearted" in its overall tone, though. The Tomb of Horrors this is not!

I’d even go so far as to say there’s a certain exuberance to Earthshaker! There’s a sense that Cook was exploring the outer limits of what D&D could encompass. The presence of a gigantic, walking war machine in a fantasy setting harkens back to a time when the game’s identity was still fluid and the boundaries between genres were porous. I find that aspect of the module appealing now, though I recall being somewhat irked by it at the time. Even so, the environment Cook presents is sufficiently intriguing that I was willing to overlook any reservations I had about its blending of fantasy and quasi-technological elements.

That said, I never actually ran Earthshaker! Like many modules of this period, it offered compelling ideas but never quite rose to the level of a “must play” scenario for me. Re-reading it forty years later, I’m no longer certain whether that judgment reflects a shortcoming of the adventure itself or simply my own preferences, both then and now. Indeed, I can’t help but wonder whether some of the shift I perceived in TSR during the mid-1980s was, in fact, a shift in me. I turned sixteen in 1985 and had already been playing Dungeons & Dragons for nearly six years. It’s possible I was simply growing restless and, without quite realizing it, projected that restlessness onto the game.

Viewed in that light, Earthshaker! might be less a misstep than a sign of a game stretching beyond its earlier boundaries, sometimes awkwardly, but not without imagination. It may never have compelled me to play it, but its central idea was clever nonetheless, a testament to the power of a strong conceit even when its execution is uneven. If nothing else, it serves as a reminder that D&D has always been at its most interesting when it dares to be a little strange.

The Articles of Dragon: "Update from the Chief"

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that, for all the fanfare that accompanied the publication of issue #100 of Dragon (August 1985), it nevertheless felt like the end of an era – at least to me. At the time, I couldn't have meaningfully articulated precisely why it felt this way, but I felt it nonetheless. Something intangible had shifted and I don't think I was alone in sensing it, even if its ultimate source remained nebulous.

I was reminded of this fact as I cracked open issue #101 (September 1985) and read it for the first time in decades. The very first article in the issue is "Update from the Chief" by Gary Gygax himself. Subtitled "About the past, the present, and a bit of the future," it's a very interesting snapshot of the state of TSR during the period between Gygax's return from California in late 1984 and his loss of control of the company in late October 1985. 

Take note of those dates, particularly the second one. This article appeared less than two months before Lorraine Williams snatched TSR from Gygax's grasp, doing so just as he had begun to right the company's finances after years of mismanagement by the Blume brothers. TSR wasn't out of the woods yet. There were still plenty of problems to be addressed and it's far from a certainty that, had Gygax remained in charge of TSR, they would have been. That's precisely why I find this article so notable: it's the last gasp of the pre-Lorraine Williams TSR, for good and for bad, and, in retrospect, I find it fascinating that it somehow aligns with my own adolescent sense that the wheels were indeed coming off the wagon in 1985, even though there is no way I had any inkling of what was happening in the boardroom at Lake Geneva.

The article begins with Gygax continuing to report on the possibility of a D&D movie, something he'd been pursuing while during his exile in California. From what he says here, the project was, by this time, still not very far along. He mentions that there is still no finished script, nor any actors or director attached to it. I've never really understood the point of a D&D movie. However, it's clear that getting one made was personally important to Gygax and he beat that particular drum right up until he departed TSR for good before the end of the next year.

Next up, Gygax crows about how well Unearthed Arcana sold – and rightly so. For all my grousing about the book's shortcomings, I know it was very popular at the time of its release. For many months, it was indeed a very hot property and often difficult to find. Gygax mentions that it outsold TSR's expectations. Those purchases, along with the release of Oriental Adventures no doubt played a big role in helping to fill the company's coffers. Say what you will but Gygax understood well what would appeal to the AD&D audience at the time. He also announces the upcoming release of Temple of Elemental Evil. While I don't personally think much of this "supermodule," like UA, it sold well. After all, AD&D fans had been waiting for the conclusion to The Village of Hommlet for more than five years by this point. Pent-up demand probably served it well. 

Though focused more on matters at TSR Hobbies itself, Gygax was still shepherding other D&D-related entertainment projects beyond the aforementioned movie. He notes that the D&D cartoon had been renewed for another season and expressed hope that it would be renewed again after that. Obviously, that didn't come to pass. Beyond that, there is talk of Amazing Stories and his own Greyhawk novels featuring Gord and Chert. 

More interesting to me is mention of "a game and companion book series based on modern-day action adventures." The game, about which few details are given, was to be written by Gygax and his son, Ernie, with assistance from Jim Ward, and Paul Yih (whoever that is). He calls the game "different" and "family-oriented." If anyone has any idea what this game might have been or if any work on it had ever begun, I'd love to know more. Could it, perhaps, have been an early version of Cyborg Commando or something in that general vein? 

Finally, Gygax takes a moment to once again excoriate "unscrupulous attacks and baseless accusations pertaining to role-playing games in general and D&D in particular." I certainly can't blame him for his distemper. There was a lot of nonsense circulating about Dungeons & Dragons in the mid-1980s and, while I personally never ran afoul of it, I've met enough people over the years who have that I can understand why Gygax was so angry about it all. The mendacity of these attacks is galling. I'm all the more grateful that my introduction to the hobby, just a few years prior, was free of this sort of thing.

"Update from the Chief" isn't really an article in the usual sense. Rather, it's just a collection of news items and musings from the time right before Gygax was booted from his own company. It's thus a remarkable historical document in its own small way. It's also a window on a period in my own personal involvement with the hobby when I began to sense a change in the wind.

Chronicle

Chronicle by James Maliszewski

A Brief History of the Thousand Suns

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Pulp Science Fiction Library: Deathworld

Though not my original intention, apparently I am going to be writing more posts about the stories that gave birth to the characters described at the back of the Traveller supplements 1001 Characters and Citizens of the Imperium. Taken together, these stories form something I elsewhere dubbed "Appendix T," being for Traveller what Appendix N was for AD&D: a window into the kinds of tales characters, and situations the creator of the game found notably enjoyable and/or influential on his thinking as he created it. 

A couple of years ago, I noted a "problem" with Appendix N and the putative Appendix T suffers from a similar problem. Marc Miller provides no commentary on the books and authors he cites, leaving it to us to figure out what and in what way they were inspirational to him. This is in contrast to, say, the literary appendix found in RuneQuest, which is much more explicit about the debts owed to its contents. This fact in no way lessens the value of reading any of these books, but it does sometimes make it harder to declare definitively that this or that element of a roleplaying game was based on something from a particular book.

And sometimes it's quite obvious. That would seem to be the case for Harry Harrison's 1960 novel, Deathworld, which was originally serialized over the course of six issues of Astounding Science Fiction before being collected under a single cover and published separately by Bantam in September of the same year. The book's success would result in two sequels, both of which were also serialized in Analog (the new name of Astounding) in 1964 and 1968 respectively. Though I've read all three of these novels, this post focuses primarily on the first and, in my opinion, best of the trilogy.

Deathworld follows the adventures of Jason dinAlt, a gambler with limited psionic abilities that prove useful to him in his chosen vocation. Jason travels to the planet Pyrrus after impressing its ambassador with his skill at gambling. Pyrrus possesses an extraordinarily hostile environment, consisting of high gravity, violent weather, seismic instability, radiation, and a biosphere in which every organism, from animals to plants to microbes is lethally adapted to kill humans. Pyrrus is quite literally a deathworld and Jason seeks to test his mettle against its many dangers. Gambling is not just his profession, it's also representative of his character. He's a risk taker by nature and the deadliness of Pyrrus intrigues him on almost a primal level. 

The planet's settlers survive there only through constant training and militarized discipline. Despite this, enough of them still die that their numbers continue to dwindle. Consequently, Jason becomes intrigued by why the planet is so uniformly hostile and why the colony is failing despite the extreme measures it has taken. While doing so, Jason discovers a second group of human colonists, the “grubbers,” who live in the wilderness in relative harmony with Pyrrus. Unlike the city dwellers, whom they call "junkmen," the grubbers use psionic “talkers” to coexist with the planet’s life and kill only when necessary. Jason then comes to realize that the biosphere of Pyrrus itself is psionic and reacting collectively to the behavior of the colonists who have settled on it. Thus, around the city, all life is telepathically unified in hostility, responding to their constant aggression with coordinated, evolving attacks. Attempts by the city dwellers to destroy the source of this hostility only worsen the situation, confirming that the conflict is systemic rather than merely localized.

Having discovered this, Jason theorizes that Pyrrus is not inherently a deathworld but has only become such in response to human attitudes. The city dwellers' indiscriminate violence has triggered the planet’s ecosystem into treating them as an existential threat, while the grubbers’ more balanced approach allows a degree of coexistence. Jason's solution is, therefore, not technological but cultural. He proposes the gradual integration of the two groups of colonists, with exchange of knowledge and a shift toward living in harmony with the planet's environment. In this way, Jason offers them a path by which Pyrrus can cease to be a deathworld and become a home better suited to human life.

As I said, it's pretty easy to see what this book inspired in Traveller. First, there's Jason dinAlt himself, who's an archetypal space-going adventurer, driven by a desire to challenge himself against whatever the galaxy throws at him. Second, there's the low-level psionic abilities, something Traveller has included since the beginning. Third, and probably more importantly, there's the mystery surrounding the deadly nature of Pyrrus and its environment. Traveller adventures are full of planets like this, where its society, history, or environment (or some combination of them) are presented as problems to be solved. Taken together, Deathworld strikes me as having obvious connections to Marc Miller's masterpiece.

On a personal note, I came to Deathworld and its sequels because of having read Harrison's other series of pulp sci-fi romps featuring the Stainless Steel Rat. Though different in both their content and overt style, the two series share certain traits, most notably their social satire and use of Esperanto. Though I can't be certain, I believe it was one or the other of these series that first introduced me to the constructed language and I've been an admirer of it ever since. That's why Thousand Suns employs Esperanto as a stand-in for the universal Terran language of the setting. Regardless, Deathworld is a quick, fun read and worth your time if you can find a copy. It's short and unpretentious, both of which I consider cardinal virtues in a literary age replete with their opposites.