Multiple sources report that Tim Kask, TSR’s first full-time employee, died on December 30 at the age of 76 after a short illness.
Although I conducted a three-part interview with Mr Kask in the early days of this blog, I would not claim to have known him personally, much less well. Our direct interactions were limited to a handful of online exchanges and one particularly memorable encounter at GameholeCon several years ago, during a late-night session of Béthorm, the Tékumel RPG, refereed by its designer and artist, Jeff Dee. For the most part, I knew Tim Kask, as so many of us did, through his work and that work was substantial. As editor of The Strategic Review and, later, the first editor of Dragon magazine, he played a crucial role in shaping the early voice and direction of the roleplaying hobby.
Every time one of these game elders passes, another door into the origins of the hobby, and the worlds engendered by these minds, closes until the remaking of the world. I feel these losses deeply, though I never knew any of them directly, personally. Sitting at the office, in the basement, at the sandtable, with Rob and Gary, driving over to the Twin Cities to see Dave's setup; these insignificant moments, taken for granted at the time, slip into oblivion with each passing. That it is the natural way of things makes it no less... difficult.
ReplyDeleteI find it fitting to quote here, an excerpt from the poem 'Hyperion', by John Keats.
ReplyDelete"O ye, whom wrath consumes! who, passion-stung,
Writhe at defeat, and nurse your agonies!
Shut up your senses, stifle up your ears,
My voice is not a bellows unto ire.
Yet listen, ye who will, whilst I bring proof
How ye, perforce, must be content to stoop:
And in the proof much comfort will I give,
If ye will take that comfort in its truth.
We fall by course of Nature’s law, not force
Of thunder, or of Jove. Great Saturn, thou
Hast sifted well the atom-universe;
But for this reason, that thou art the King,
And only blind from sheer supremacy,
One avenue was shaded from thine eyes,
Through which I wandered to eternal truth.
And first, as thou wast not the first of powers,
So art thou not the last; it cannot be:
Thou art not the beginning nor the end.
From chaos and parental darkness came
Light, the first fruits of that intestine broil,
That sullen ferment, which for wondrous ends
Was ripening in itself. The ripe hour came,
And with it light, and light, engendering
Upon its own producer, forthwith touch'd
The whole enormous matter into life.
Upon that very hour, our parentage,
The Heavens and the Earth, were manifest:
Then thou first-born, and we the giant-race,
Found ourselves ruling new and beauteous realms.
Now comes the pain of truth, to whom ’tis pain;
O folly! for to bear all naked truths,
And to envisage circumstance, all calm,
That is the top of sovereignty. Mark well!
As Heaven and Earth are fairer, fairer far
Than Chaos and blank Darkness, though once chiefs;
And as we show beyond that Heaven and Earth
In form and shape compact and beautiful,
In will, in action free, companionship,
And thousand other signs of purer life;
So on our heels a fresh perfection treads,
A power more strong in beauty, born of us
And fated to excel us, as we pass
In glory that old Darkness: nor are we
Thereby more conquer'd, than by us the rule
Of shapeless Chaos. Say, doth the dull soil
Quarrel with the proud forests it hath fed,
And feedeth still, more comely than itself?
Can it deny the chiefdom of green groves?
Or shall the tree be envious of the dove
Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings
To wander wherewithal and find its joys?
We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs
Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves,
But eagles golden-feather'd, who do tower
Above us in their beauty, and must reign
In right thereof; for ’tis the eternal law
That first in beauty should be first in might:
Yea, by that law, another race may drive
Our conquerors to mourn as we do now.
Have ye beheld the young God of the Seas,
My dispossessor? Have ye seen his face?
Have ye beheld his chariot, foam'd along
By noble winged creatures he hath made?
I saw him on the calmed waters scud,
With such a glow of beauty in his eyes,
That it enforc'd me to bid sad farewell
To all my empire: farewell sad I took,
And hither came, to see how dolorous fate
Had wrought upon ye; and how I might best
Give consolation in this woe extreme.
Receive the truth, and let it be your balm."
My first encounter with Tim Kask was as the editor of The Best of the Dragon in 1980.
ReplyDeleteJim Hodges---
ReplyDeleteSad news.