Here's another interesting passage from the September 1980 issue of Fantastic Films, where its author, Neesa Sweet, talks to Jeff Urquhart, owner of Sutler's Wagon Hobby Shop in Chicago (any readers remember this place?).
Sometime toward the end of summer, one of the campaign's stalwarts undertook some new responsibilities that prevented his playing for an extended period of time. Fortunately, there were six other players to pick up the slack and we've soldiered on – pun intended – without him. Nevertheless, his presence is very much missed, both because we enjoy the company of the player and because the character he plays (Sgt. Tom Cody) is an important part of the unit under the command of Lt. Col. J.D. Orlowski.
Indeed, Sgt. Cody is so important to the unit that, even in the absence of his player, he's continued to participate in – and lead – military operations in eastern Poland. Recently, for example, the characters received intelligence suggesting that one or more NATO soldiers were being held captive in Kraśnik, a town not far from their current position. Orlowski tasked a small number of his men, under the command of Cody, to engage in reconnaissance near Kraśnik to determine if the intelligence was accurate and, if so, to assess the difficulty in liberating the NATO captives.
Since Cody's player was still unavailable, one of the other players, whose character was not assigned to the mission, took over playing him for the next few sessions. That's when I joked, "It'll be a shame when [Cody's player] returns and you'll have to tell him that Cody died bravely defending his comrades." We all laughed, because I clearly meant it as a joke. At the same time, combat is Twilight: 2000 can be unpredictable and there was no guarantee that Cody wouldn't die, even if the likelihood was small. Likewise, the player who took him over for those sessions is thoughtful and clearheaded, so he wasn't the sort to do anything too foolish.
The funny thing is that, in my youth, it was not at all an infrequent occurrence for someone's character to die while they weren't present – and it was rarely funny. In those days, we played RPGs a lot and there was an unspoken pact that we'd always be in attendance for every session of every game. To not be there, even for a perfectly legitimate reason, was seen as a rejection of the game or campaign being played, an acknowledgement that it just didn't matter all that much. What can I say? We were young and, as adolescent boys often are, prone to finding any excuse to haze one another.
One of the forms such hazing would take is killing off someone's character when they didn't show up for a game. "Sorry, dude, your fighter died last night, but, don't worry: he died covering our escape from a horde of ghouls." That sort of thing. Of course, as we played D&D in those days, there were innumerable ways to return a dead character to life and we rarely hesitated to make use of them. I think that was a big part of why no one ever hesitated to kill the characters of absent players – we all understood that death wasn't permanent. Thus, the proper response to learning that your character died while you were visiting your grandparents or on vacation at Disney World was not whine and moan, but rather "Oh yeah? That's cool. Have you raised him yet or is that our next adventure?"
While I don't advocate for the killing off of absent players' characters, let alone allow it in games I referee, I still make jokes about it. I wonder why that is? I suppose it's that, as puerile as it was, it was part of my earliest memories of roleplaying games. Those were days of wild-eyed, reckless adventure, when we first began to understand that RPGs gave us the ability to "do" anything we wanted – and a lot of what we wanted was foolish and occasionally cruel. We grew out of that initial childishness in time, but I almost feel as if it were a necessary stage in our development as roleplayers. To become more "serious" as gamers, we first had to indulge our unbridled ids a bit.
Maybe I'm wrong and this isn't a phase that everyone goes through when they're first introduced to this amazing hobby. All I know is that my friends and I did more than four decades ago and, try as I might, I can't say it wasn't fun, after a fashion. Good thing I outgrew it, eh?
Some fascinating thoughts from Gary Gygax about the role of the Dungeon Master in Dungeons & Dragons (from the September 1980 issue of Fantastic Films). What he has to say reminds me a bit of my defense of the "killer DM" last year.
Though progress continues to be quite a bit slower than I'd like – due, in large part, to my constant tinkering – Secrets of sha-Arthan continues to chug along. I've taken a break from working on its rules to working on its setting. In particular, I've been developing a border region of the Empire of Inba Iro that can serve as a starting area for a new campaign. The first step in doing so was producing a map. Here's a scan of a portion of my original, hand-drawn map.
#OnThisDay 1983: BBC South East at Six explored the magical world of Dungeons & Dragons, with the help of Games Workshop founders Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone. pic.twitter.com/dxuhI5k2pe
— BBC Archive (@BBCArchive) October 6, 2023
Bugs in the System is a product of TSR UK, the British division of TSR Hobbies, which closed its doors in 1986. During its brief existence, TSR UK distinguished itself by producing a number of well-regarded and highly imaginative game materials, some of which have long been among my favorites. Though I'm not quite certain I can put my finger on precisely what sets them apart from their American counterparts, there's no denying that there's something unique about even the worst of them.
That's certainly true of Bugs in the System. Whereas the American Star Frontiers adventures, like the Volturnus Trilogy, draw their inspiration from the pulp sci-fi of the genre's Golden Age, Bugs in the System is a fair bit harder edged and "serious" in its approach to science fiction. By "serious," I mean only that Morris takes seriously Isaac Asimov's belief that science fiction isn't really science fiction if it lacks science. Most of what we reflexively call science fiction, especially in the realm of roleplaying games, doesn't include much in the way of genuine scientific speculation. It's mostly fantasy in space, which is absolutely fine in my opinion, but I still appreciate it when an author puts serious effort into incorporating science and scientific ideas into his story.
Bugs in the System does just that and in a way that puts the lie to the notion that "real" science fiction can't still be adventuresome. The premise of the adventure is quite simple: the characters are tasked with the job of traveling to a biochemical extraction platform located in the upper atmosphere of a gas giant to determine the nature a disaster that cut it off from contact and, if possible, effect repairs and rescue any surviving members of its crew. It's a classic set-up for an adventure, since it provides the characters with just enough information to understand their ostensible mission and leaves just enough unknown that there's no doubt in the players' minds about the fact that unraveling a mystery is why their characters are truly traveling to the extraction platform.
As I noted, Morris is very committed to the adventure's scientific speculation. The nature of the disaster that struck the extraction platform is an unintelligent, microscopic organism that consists of patterns of electrical impulses. These patterns gather together simple compounds from the atmosphere of the gas giant to build up large biochemical molecules in which they "live." A mutated form of this lifeform has infected the extraction platform's circuitry, causing malfunctions and other anomalies – in short, a living computer virus. That may not seem like an original idea in 2023, but, nearly four decades ago, it was and I remember thinking how clever Morris was to have come up with it.
Of course, the fun of the adventure isn't simply in the high concept of its backstory. The fun comes from the characters wandering around the extraction platform, which is supported by bags of gas heated by nuclear reactors, looking for clues to what might have happened, as well as dealing with the malfunctions caused by the lifeform. Characters with technological skills, particularly computers and robotics, will have a lot to do. Morris put a lot of thought into how the lifeform operates within the computer systems and how the characters can combat it. There are even charts and diagrams, depicting the architecture of the platform's mainframe, programs, and terminals, intended both to visually represent the overall system but also to aid the characters as they attempt to track down and isolate the lifeform.
Overall, Bugs in the System is a thoughtful and challenging scenario, one that rewards characters who pay attention and carefully consider evidence. Even so, that strength is also something of a weakness, in that characters – and players – who are not as scientifically/technologically inclined might become a bit bored. Morris seems to recognize this, hence the inclusion of malfunctioning robots to fight, including one whose outward appearance hides its true nature (shades of Ash in Alien). I can't really fault him for this, since he needs to ensure the module holds appeal for a wider audience, but I found these obligatory combat-oriented threats somewhat jarring even at the time. They only appear more so today.
As I stated at the beginning of this post, I stand by my judgment that Bugs in the System is one of my favorite RPG adventures of all time. Its underlying idea is very solid and its implementation excellent. Graeme Morris put a lot of thought into it and it shows. The maps and diagrams (by Paul Ruiz) are clear and well-done, too, which only adds to the module's overall quality. It's just a pity that, likely as a concession to those who prefer their "science fiction" to be Star Wars rather than 2001, there are all these unnecessary shoot 'em ups sprinkled throughout. Them's the breaks, I guess.
From issue #81 (September/October 1977) of Don Greenwood's Campaign magazine (formerly Panzerfaust):
One of the more underappreciated aspects of the 1977 Dungeons & Dragons Basic Set is the degree to which its rulebook, prepared by J. Eric Holmes, is a very faithful editing and restatement of the original 1974 OD&D rules. Consider, for example, that both the Holmes rulebook and Volume 1 of OD&D begin with the same foreword, penned by Gary Gygax just a little over half a century ago (November 1, 1973). Here's the version found in OD&D:
