Retrospective: The Gamer's Handbook of the Marvel Universe

I've no doubt mentioned on numerous occasions that, as a kid, I was never a big reader of comic books – at least not superhero comic books. Even so, many of my friends were avid comic readers and, more than that, it would have been quite difficult growing up in the 1970s and '80s to not know at least a little bit about comic book superheroes, particularly those published by Marvel Comics, merchandise for which was seemingly everywhere at the time. So, while I never a devoted fan of the genre, I was familiar with its characters and storylines.

Consequently, once I got into roleplaying games, I inevitably picked up Champions and had a good time with it, though it was never going to rise as high in my affections as, say, Dungeons & Dragons or Traveller. Champions was too ponderous and math-heavy for my tastes and seemed, to my way of thinking at any rate, to be a poor fit with the fast and frenetic action of superhero slugfests. Champions was good enough, because I didn't have any other ready alternatives, but I never connected to it the way I did with other RPGs.

TSR's Marvel Super Heroes, on the other hand, was pretty close to perfect for my purposes. That it was published by TSR certainly helped, I am sure, but, unlike many of TSR's other non-D&D offerings, Marvel Super Heroes was one that I played regularly, because it hit a sweet spot in its design and presentation. This was a game that was meant to be played and my friends and I had a blast with it. Sure, one can quibble about its lack of a robust character creation system, but that mostly didn't matter, because the whole point of this game was taking on the roles of one of Marvel's immense pantheon of heroes. 

That's what made the Gamer's Handbook of the Marvel Universe, released in four 256-page volumes over the course of 1988, so appealing. Modeled on the 15-volume Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe series from Marvel Comics, TSR's Handbook provided game statistics for nearly every Marvel character ever to appear in its comics, as well as information on their history and even roleplaying notes. If you were playing Marvel Super Heroes, this was pretty much a must-have product, especially if, like me, your favorite heroes and villains had never appeared in other MSH products or in the pages of Jeff Grubb's excellent "The Marvel-Phile" series.

Much like the Monstrous Compendium for AD&D Second Edition, the Handbook's pages were five-hole punched so that they could be organized into a binder. Unlike the MC, I don't believe TSR ever produced officially-branded binders for this purpose, but my memory is hazy. Interestingly, Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe, released between 1985 and 1987 in obvious imitation of Marvel's earlier effort, was released in a similar loose-leaf format. I have no idea whether TSR was, in turn, borrowing a page from DC or if it was simply something the company had, for whatever reason, hit upon as a useful format for releasing its products at the time.

I loved these books and regret that I no longer own my original copies of them. Unfortunately, they came out during my college years and a lot of things I acquired during that time went missing as I regularly moved between my parents' home and various dormitories. TSR released four more, slimmer follow-up volumes to the originals – annual updates that included new or overlooked characters, in addition to literal updates previously presented characters. I never saw any of these and so cannot speak to their specific contents, but I get the impression that, like the initial volumes, they were well-regarded and useful.

Thinking back on this series of products, I find myself remembering just how good Marvel Super Heroes was and how much I enjoyed playing it. Though I've played (or attempted to play) several other superhero RPGs in the years since, none has ever really grabbed me the way MSH did. That might just be because I'm not, as I said, a diehard superhero fan and thus have never really committed to the genre for roleplaying purposes. However, I prefer to think it's more likely that Marvel Super Heroes was just a solid, intuitive design that fit its subject matter in a way few others have. I miss it.

Thousand Suns 2e Playtesting

It's still very much my intention to release a new edition of my science fiction roleplaying game, Thousand Suns, either this year or next. While my public discussions of my design work on this project take place over at Grognardia Games Direct, I'll also be doing a series of playtests the details of which will periodically appear at my Patreon. If that's something you'd be interested in, my latest (public) post talks a bit about this, with more information to follow in the weeks ahead.

REPOST: The Articles of Dragon: "Mutant Manual"

Since this blog could hardly be accused of intellectual rigor, I trust no one will object to my choosing the "Mutant Manual" as the "article" I wish to highlight from issue #98 (June 1985) of Dragon. Written by Randy Johns, Douglas A. Lent, John M. Maxstadt, William Tracy, and James M. Ward, the "Mutant Manual" was a 12-page insert that detailed 17 new mutants for use with Gamma World.

To say that I adored the "Mutant Manual" is a bit of an understatement. Along with only a handful of other articles, it became a permanent addition to my "referee's binder" in which I kept maps, notes, and photocopies of useful articles from Dragon, White Dwarf, and elsewhere. In the case of the "Mutant Manual," though, it wasn't a photocopy, but the original itself, which I carefully removed from the center of my copy of issue #98. Since I generally preferred to keep my copies of Dragon "pristine" – a shock, I know – the fact that I removed the "Mutant Manual" was a high tribute.

I'm not sure I can really convey why I liked it so much. Were I to describe any of its constituent mutants, like the flying squids, armor-plated rhinos, or post-apocalyptic sasquatches, I doubt most readers would find them particularly interesting and perhaps rightly so. Back in '85, though, I appreciated having a source of new mutants to throw at my players when we played Gamma World. Creating good monsters takes time and imagination, as many entries in the Monster Manual prove. You need more than a name and some game statistics to create a worthy monster – an indescribable something that makes it more than the sum of its parts.

In my opinion, this is particularly the case with regards to Gamma World, where it's all too easy to take some normal animal, roll a few times on the mutations tables, and think you're done. More often than not, this led to some utterly ridiculous creatures that I could barely take seriously myself, let alone my players. So, having some ready-made mutants that weren't immediately laughable was invaluable to me. Whether others might deem the "Mutant Manual" a success in this regard is a matter of opinion, of course, but I loved it and still strongly associate it with my fondest memories of Gamma World.

The High Struggle

The High Struggle by James Maliszewski

A Breakthrough for Thousand Suns 2e

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Pulp Fantasy Library: Dwellers in the Mirage

Despite the fact that I’ve long championed the fiction of Abraham Merritt on this blog, I’ve somehow never devoted a proper Pulp Fantasy Library post to his 1932 novel Dwellers in the Mirage. That omission is especially glaring given that it’s one of only three Merritt works singled out by Gary Gygax in Appendix N of the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide, the other two being Creep, Shadow! and The Moon Pool. In my defense, I did write about Dwellers years ago, but that was for the short-lived Pulp Fantasy Gallery, not this series. Correcting that oversight has also reminded me how easily certain classics slip through the cracks simply because one assumes they’ve already been treated. I intend to rectify that in the weeks and months ahead.

First serialized in Argosy magazine across six issues in early 1932, Dwellers in the Mirage perfectly captures a transitional moment in fantastic fiction. The 19th-century Lost World romance had not yet entirely vanished, but it had begun to darken and mutate under the influence of the weird tales of the pulps. Merritt’s novel stands squarely at this crossroads. Its protagonist, Leif Langdon, an American of Norwegian descent, is exploring Alaska when he stumbles upon a warm, hidden valley cut off from the outside world. There he discovers two ancient peoples locked in ceaseless conflict and, more disturbingly, the worship of a monstrous, tentacled deity named Khalk’ru, whose cult demands blood sacrifice.

As if this weren't complication enough, Langdon gradually learns that he is the reincarnation of Dwayanu, a legendary warrior from the valley’s past. The memories and passions of that former life begin to surface, creating a psychological tension that drives much of the novel. The struggle against Khalk’ru is thus not merely external but internal. Langdon must reconcile his modern identity with the shadow of an older, more ruthless self. In doing so, Merritt transforms what might have been a straightforward lost race adventure into a story of possession, temptation, and the perilous allure of power.

That fusion of elements is one of the novel’s strengths. Merritt weaves together reincarnation, romance, occultism, lost civilizations, and cosmic horror with a confidence that makes the whole feel seamless rather than overstuffed. The narrative moves briskly, pausing just long enough to explore the psychological toll of Langdon’s divided soul and the seductive pull of Khalk’ru’s terrible grandeur. Merritt’s prose is, as always, lush, rhythmic, and incantatory. He imbues even the more conventional adventure scenes with a dreamlike intensity. The result is a tale that transcends its pulpy origins without abandoning them.

By 1932, Merritt was among the most popular and respected writers in the American pulps. Earlier novels such as The Metal Monster and The Ship of Ishtar had already established him as a master of exotic fantasy steeped in ancient civilizations and occult forces. Dwellers in the Mirage is very much in this vein as well, but it also exemplifies how far the genre had evolved from its Victorian antecedents. Where Haggard and Doyle offered rationalist heroes confronting marvels at the edges of empire, Merritt presents a world in which the marvelous is tinged with cosmic dread and psychological ambiguity. The adventures in both are similar, but Merritt's version embraces the weid and uncanny.

Khalk’ru himself deserves special mention. Readers have long debated whether this tentacled, malign entity was intended as an homage to H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu or represents a case of parallel invention. Lovecraft greatly admired Merritt and the two even collaborated on the round-robin story “The Challenge from Beyond.” While their styles differ markedly, both writers were captivated by the intrusion of ancient, inhuman powers into the modern world. Merritt’s vision is ultimately more romantic and mythic. His heroes are not reduced to insignificance before the abyss. Instead, they resist it. Cosmic horror still remains, but Merritt believes it can be confronted and, at least temporarily, overcome. In this respect, Dwellers in the Mirage thus anticipates later sword-and-sorcery fiction, in which bold heroes pit their wills against dark gods and sorcerous tyrants. One can readily see why Gygax valued the novel highly enough to cite it in Appendix N. 

Some of Merritt’s fiction is more significant as a historical artifact than as living literature. Dwellers in the Mirage, however, retains an immediacy that makes it rewarding for its own sake. It is delightfully atmospheric and filled with both memorable characters and situations. More than that, it stands as a vivid testament to a moment when pulp fantasy had finally coalesced into its own distinct genre, one that would go on to influence not only later fantasy literature but also comic books, movies, and other forms of popular entertainment.

If you've never had the chance to read the novel before, I highly recommend you do so. There's a wonderful new edition of the novel available through DMR Books that I cannot recommend enough.

One Book or Two?

One Book or Two? by James Maliszewski

Pondering a Change to Thousand Suns

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What Are You Playing Right Now?

I write a lot about the various roleplaying games I'm currently refereeing and/or playing, since it's good fodder for posts. It's also because I know many readers enjoy learning about which games I'm enjoying and what I'm doing with them. Truth be told, I feel similarly. I love hearing about the games others are playing and what's going in their adventures and campaigns. 

To that end, I'd like to return to some questions I asked here just a little over three years ago:

If you are currently playing in or refereeing a roleplaying game:

• What RPG(s) are playing/refereeing?
• How long have you been playing this/these particular campaign(s)?
• How often do you meet to play?

If you are not currently playing in or refereeing a roleplaying game:

• How long has it been since you last played/refereed?

Thanks in advance.

Logjam (Part II)

Logjam (Part II) by James Maliszewski

An Update

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Retrospective: The Ruins of Myth Drannor

I know that, for many fans of old-school Dungeons & Dragons, Ed Greenwood’s Forgotten Realms represents a decisive (and unwelcome) break from the game’s early days, both in content and especially in presentation. I don’t agree with that assessment, though this isn’t the place to rehearse that entire argument. What I will say is that revisiting TSR’s Forgotten Realms products from the late 1980s through the 1990s, I find a body of work that is not the betrayal its detractors claim, but is instead a mixed bag – occasionally frustrating, frequently ambitious, and at times genuinely impressive.

A good case in point is The Ruins of Myth Drannor, a 1993 boxed set detailing the fabled elven “City of Song.” Myth Drannor had long loomed large in the background of the setting. For years prior to this set’s release, Greenwood referenced it repeatedly as a shining example of magical harmony undone by hubris and catastrophe. Consequently, when the boxed set finally appeared, I eagerly snapped it up.

From the first time I read about it, I imagined Myth Drannor as one of the great fallen cities of the Realms. Its destruction defined much of the Forgotten Realms’ melancholy grandeur. The Realms, at least as I understood them, were not a setting on the ascent but a world in decline, a place of fading glories and lingering ruins, closer in spirit to pulp fantasy than to high heroic triumphalism. Myth Drannor is where this comes into sharp focus. 

Transforming such a mythic ruin into a playable location was no doubt a challenge. Myth Drannor is not a megadungeon in the traditional sense. Rather, it is a shattered metropolis sprawled across the forest of Cormanthyr. Its districts, academies, towers, temples, vaults, and magical zones warped by a magic effect that once protected the city. TSR had previously attempted little else on this scale. One might point to Dwellers of the Forbidden City as an early precursor, though the comparison only goes so far. In spirit, its closest analog may be Chaosium’s Big Rubble for RuneQuest, which is still, in my opinion, the gold standard for “ruin crawl” locales.

In many respects, The Ruins of Myth Drannor succeeds admirably in its goals. Greenwood presents the city as an environment. It is effectively a mini-sandbox, a vast urban wilderness suitable for exploration, salvage, factional conflict, and long-term campaigns built around survival amid arcane devastation. The conceptual foundation is solid. The boxed set offers history, factions, current inhabitants, and numerous adventure hooks. This is all good stuff. Where it falters is in execution.

The set does not consistently provide the Dungeon Master with the tools necessary to bring so large a space to life in play. The maps are expansive and the descriptions evocative, but there is surprisingly little in the way of random encounter tables, stocking guidelines, event generators, or even name lists to help a referee improvise within such a vast environment. Instead, we are given several more fully fleshed-out adventures and a handful of small, somewhat uninspired mini-dungeons that can be dropped in as needed. Those adventures are serviceable, but they do not quite match the promise implied by the scale of the city itself. 

This absence of these kinds of referee tools is all the more striking because the physical presentation of the boxed set is impressive. The poster maps are sweeping, delineating districts and geography. They convey scale beautifully. One can easily imagine months of play wandering the overgrown avenues and shattered towers. Yet, that same scale exposes a weakness. Much of the city is described in broad strokes. The maps suggest more than the text delivers or indeed could deliver.

The background material is quintessentially Greenwoodian, dense with names, lineages, magic, and history. For readers invested in the Realms as a setting, this lore is rich and rewarding. For referees seeking immediately usable material, however, it can feel overwhelming. Even as someone who once delighted in “Realmslore,” I occasionally found myself wishing that some of the word count devoted to ancient history had instead gone toward practical game tools.

One element the boxed set gets absolutely right is its intended level range. The Ruins of Myth Drannor is not for novice characters. The ruins teem with formidable threats, like elven and mind flayer liches, demons, devils, magical constructs, and strange, magic-eating abominations. These are adversaries suited to mid and high-level characters. For referees who enjoy high-level play – and who know how difficult it can be to challenge powerful characters – Myth Drannor fills a genuine need. It offers a compelling and dangerous playground for experienced adventurers.

In the end, I think The Ruins of Myth Drannor exemplifies much of TSR’s output during this period. It is ambitious, atmospheric, and lavishly presented. It's also frustrating. It gestures toward an open-ended and exploratory style of play that strongly matches old school sensibilities, but it stops short of fully embracing the procedural support such play demands.

Even so, I still very much like this boxed set. When it was released, I used it and mined it for material to use in my campaign. Its flaws required work on my part as referee, of course, but the raw material was there, waiting to be shaped. Perhaps that is the most old-school aspect of it after all: not a perfectly engineered product, but a rich, uneven trove of ideas demanding engagement.

Myth Drannor, both as a fictional city and as a boxed set, stands as a monument to a fallen age – within the Realms and within TSR itself. Imperfect, excessive, occasionally exasperating, yet grand in conception, it reminds us that decline and greatness are not mutually exclusive. Sometimes they are, in fact, the same thing viewed from different angles.

The Kythireans

Over at Advanced Grognardia, I've got another post in which I provide game stats and a description of "monsters" from my Telluria campaign setting, along with some commentary on their origins. I've been writing a number of these posts over the past few months and it's been fun revisiting some of my early work and sharing insights into their creative origins.