In Defense of Evil Characters

Having last week come to the defense of the murderhobo, I thought I'd go one step further this week by doing something similar for outright evil characters. That's because, for as long as I've played Dungeons & Dragons, I've never considered the possibility of playing such characters illegitimate. None of the editions of the game I encountered in the first few years after I entered the hobby – in order: Holmes Basic, AD&D, or Moldvay Basic – forbids characters from being evil (though the matter is a little complicated in the latter case, since there is no explicitly "evil" alignment). Indeed, all three versions of the game are quite clear that a player character can be of any alignment, including evil ones. 

Likewise, Holmes states that at least one class – thieves – are "not truly good," while AD&D goes further, claiming that "most thieves tend toward evil." Assassins engage in an activity that Gary Gygax memorably described as "the antithesis of weal," hence their outright restriction to evil alignment. Monks have a very limited range of alignments, but Lawful Evil is among them. Bards are almost as restricted in their alignment options, yet they too can be evil. Only druids, paladins, and rangers are forbidden from being evil by the rules, suggesting that the possibility of a player choosing to play an evil cleric or fighter is in no way beyond the pale. 

Of course, it's one thing to see the possibility of evil characters as legitimate and another to see it as desirable. In the early days, I tended to transfer Moldvay's perspective about Chaotic characters to evil ones more broadly: they don't play well with others. For the most part, my friends shared this perspective. I cannot recall anyone of my neighborhood buddies wanting to play an evil character, let alone actually doing so. Like me, they'd come to D&D as relatively innocent boys who looked to the heroes of mythology and literature for inspiration in generating our earliest characters.  Few, if any, of these characters were evil either in thought or deed and our own characters reflected this.

However, as I mentioned in my post about murderhobos, a number of the protagonists of the pulp fantasy stories that served as the inspiration of Gary Gygax in his personal conception of the game were, at best, morally ambiguous and, in a few cases, evil by the standards of D&D's alignment system. That this is the case is made unmistakable in, for example, the write-up of Elric in Deities & Demigods, which judges him Chaotic Evil in alignment. One can certainly argue the fine details of that or similar judgments, but there's no denying that there's a strong tradition of pulp fantasy characters whose exploits include a lot of morally dubious actions.

Beyond that, one need only take a look at the play of the earliest Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. Blackmoor, the birthplace of D&D, featured at least one significant evil player character – Sir Fang, a fighter-turned-vampire whose depredations proved so frightful to the other characters in that campaign that the cleric class was created to stand against him. Meanwhile, one of the most successful characters in Gygax's Greyhawk campaign was Robilar, played by Rob Kuntz. Robilar was not unique in this regard. A quick look at The Rogues Gallery reveals a number of evil-aligned player characters among TSR's writers and designers. If you look at the pregenerated characters for use with modules like Expedition to the Barrier Peaks and Dwellers of the Forbidden City, you'll find several also have evil alignments.

The weight of all this evidence was still insufficient to turn me into a defender of evil characters, except in the narrowest sense. Yes, the rules allow for evil characters, but that didn't mean I had to like it. What ultimately changed my mind was when, many years after I first played D&D, I participated in several sessions that featured an evil character. He was a Neutral Evil psionicist/thief – this was in the days of 2e – and he made himself very useful to his companions by both his skills and his knowledge. I never completely trusted him, but there was no denying that he filled a niche in the party and that his presence helped us succeed when we might otherwise have not. It helped, too, that he was well roleplayed as a charming, if not at all trustworthy, rascal. 

Ultimately, that's what convinced me that an evil character could be fun: good roleplaying. Here was a completely disreputable character, a liar and a cheat, whose actions were always self-interested – but he was played so well and so enjoyably that I almost forgot he was evil. Eventually, the character had the opportunity to betray his comrades to his benefit and he took it. The betrayal left us in a bit of a bind and, while my character was certainly angry, I was not. The character acted as he ought to have, given his alignment. If anyone is to be blamed, it's the rest of us for taking on such a character, knowing as we did that he was evil. But, as I said, he was charming, so fun, that we let our guard down and paid the price for it.

That may seem an odd defense of evil characters. From my perspective, though, it's the strongest one I can offer: sometimes it's fun. Roleplaying games are a form of escapism, something I consider very important, especially nowadays. Having a creative outlet for our baser instincts is, in my opinion, just as vital as having one where we can behave heroically. Sometimes we want to be Galahad and sometimes we want to be Cugel the Clever. I don't see either one as inherently better than the other. While my preference remains for less morally compromised characters, I can easily see the fun in evil characters. Arguably, many of the characters in my House of Worms campaign would be considered evil in D&D terms, so it's not as if the playstyle is completely outside my taste. I've also long harbored a desire to a referee a D&D campaign in which all the characters are members of a Thieves' Guild. In such a campaign, I suspect the vast majority of the characters would be evil, or at least non-good.

I'd love to know of your experiences playing or playing with evil characters. Is it enjoyable? Is it something you'd recommend? What are the advantages and drawbacks of this kind of game? It's a topic that I think deserves greater examination.

REVIEW: Black Sword Hack

During the nearly eight years this blog was inactive, I wasn't paying nearly as much attention to the wider old school roleplaying scene as I previously had been. Consequently, quite a number of releases, trends, and fads within this sphere completely passed me by. One of these was The Black Hack, a streamlined class-and-level RPG by David Black, whose first edition appeared in 2016. For a time, I am given to understand, The Black Hack and its design principles were much favored, leading to a proliferation of "Hacks" – Bluehack (for Holmes D&D), The Rad-Hack (Gamma World, etc.), Cthulhu Hack (Call of Cthulhu), even The Petal Hack (Empire of the Petal Throne), among many, many more.

Now, there's nothing inherently wrong with any of this. Gamers are as prone to enthusiasms as the next person and I try not to begrudge anyone else their preferences, even if I don't share them. Still, I can't deny that the intensity of the ardor for The Black Hack put me off looking into it for some time. What can I say: I'm prone to contrariness. When I finally did read The Black Hack for myself, I found it more agreeable than I expected, despite my dislike of certain aspects of its design. That's not knock against it, of course; I generally dislike certain aspects of most games' designs. That's more or less the nature of the beast.

That's why Black Sword Hack took me by surprise. I didn't even know it existed until it showed up in my mailbox one day as a complimentary copy sent to me by its publisher, The Merry Mushmen (best known for Knock!). Written by Alexandre "Kobayashi" Jeanette, Black Sword Hack is, in his words, "a dark fantasy roleplaying game inspired (but not limited to) the works of R.E. Howard, Michael Moorcock, Karl Edward Wagner's Kane series, Fritz Leiber's Lankhmar and Jack Vance's Dying Earth books." Being a fan of all those writers and their pulp fantasies, that description certainly got my attention, as did the eye-catching artwork by Goran Gligović, which can be found throughout the full-color, 112-page, A5-sized, hardcover book.

The core rules of Black Sword Hack are simple. A turn is an abstract measure of time, during which time a player character may act. During a time, a character can typically take two actions, such as movement and combat. All actions are resolved by making an attribute test. The goal of a test is to roll under a character's appropriate attribute score with a d20. A roll of 1 is always a critical success, while a roll of 20 is always a critical failure. I must admit that the lower-is-better d20 roll takes some getting used to, since it runs counter to decades of experience as a player of roleplaying games, but otherwise the rules of Black Sword Hack are straightforward.

The game retains the "Usage die" from The Black Hack, but with a twist. For those unfamiliar with it, the Usage die is a way to keep track of resources that have limited quantities, like rations or arrows. Whenever a resource is used, the die is rolled and, if the result is 1 or 2, the die "degrades" to the next die type (e.g. d8 becomes d6) until d4 is reached and 1 or 2 is rolled, at which point the resource is completely depleted. Black Sword Hack does not employ the Usage die for concrete resources, but only for abstract ones, like influence, debts, etc. Further, there is the Doom die, a type of Usage die that represents "the attention of Law and Chaos" on the characters. It's rolled whenever the character critically fails and under certain other specific conditions. Once the Doom die is depleted, the character makes all his tests and damage rolls with Disadvantage (i.e. rolling two dice and taking the lowest result).

While the D&D pedigree of Black Sword Hack (and The Black Hack on which it is based) is readily apparent (STR, DEX, CON, etc.), the game is class-less, placing greater emphasis on a character's origin (barbarian, civilized, or decadent) and background (berserker, diplomat, assassin, etc.). This provides a looser mechanical framework for characters, in keeping with the wide range of possible dark fantasy settings the referee might create (more on this in a bit). Characters can also acquire "gifts" – powers of Balance, Chaos, or Law – in addition to sorcery, faerie ties, twisted science, and runic weapons. As characters gain experience, they accrue more abilities and hit points, but a high-level Black Sword Hack character is much less robust than a D&D character of similar level. Consequently, combat is much more fraught with danger, which makes sense, given its literary inspirations.

Where Black Sword Hack really shines, though, is its world building tools. Approximately half the book is devoted to the referee – more if you include its sample bestiary. The game assumes the referee will create his own setting, one dominated by the struggle between Law and Chaos, as in Moorcock and Anderson's fantasies. There are tables and examples to aid him in deciding on the nature of the struggle and how it manifests in the setting, along numerous adventure seeds, two adventure, and the sketch of an entire city. There's even a sketch of a setting, complete with a map, to show one way to make use of the world building tools.

A conceit of the referee section is that any setting the referee designs will inevitably include certain stock locales – Forbidden City, Amber Enclave, Merchant League, Northern Raiders, etc. These are not just tropes from dark fantasy fiction but perhaps also eternal archetypes that reappear throughout the multiverse. Creating a setting for Black Sword Hack involves drawing a map and placing all these locales onto it somewhere and then fleshing out the details through play and the judicious use of random tables provided in the book. It's a clever approach and one that genuinely helps guide the referee in a useful way. The same goes, I think, with the bestiary, which includes plenty of archetypal enemies – demons, cannibals, serpent people – to spark the imagination, while still providing the tools needed to create unique and original antagonists.

If Black Sword Hack has a flaw, it's its looseness. Some players and referees may find its relative lack of concern for considering every possibility, whether in the rules or its myriad settings, disappointing. If you prefer something more defined, even concrete, you're better off with other options. Black Sword Hack revels in its light, almost freeform, rules and malleable setting elements and that won't be to everyone's taste. But as someone who's come to realize that my own preferences tend toward simple, flexible rules with lots of room for filling in the details as I go, this is right up my alley. When I get around to running that Stormbringer campaign of my dreams, there's no question in my mind that I'll be using Black Sword Hack. Perhaps others will like it too.

Black Sword Hack is available directly from the Merry Mushmen website in either print or PDF form.

White Dwarf: Issue #79

With issue #79 of White Dwarf (July 1986), I reach the penultimate issue I'll cover in this series. Though I'm glad to have done it – and I hope it's been profitable for those of you reading along – I can't deny that my enthusiasm has been waning for some time now. Sadly, this issue did little to make me regret my decision to end the series with #80, though there are a couple of bright spots – like John Blanche's cover illustration ("Amazonia Gothique"), which I like for reasons I can't fully articulate.

This issue marks the first one featuring Paul Cockburn as editor. His inaugural editorial mentions that there will be still more changes in store for the magazine, though these will "come in bit by bit." Cockburn also notes that Citadel Miniatures would, from this point on, include "a small warning, intended to prevent figures being sold to that part of the public who might actually be harmed by lead content." He elaborates that there had recently been a Citadel ad in a magazine "aimed at a very young audience," which necessitated this warning. Maybe I'm just old and contrarian, but I felt a slight pang of sadness upon reading this. By 1986, the Old Days (and Old Ways) were already fading ...

"Open Box" takes a look at two related Palladium products, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Other Strangeness and its post-apocalyptic supplement, After the Bomb. Both products are positively reviewed, but the reviewer, Marcus L. Rowland, expresses a preference for the "present day setting of the original game," which he feels offers "more opportunities for plot development and diversity." Also reviewed is Secret Wars II for Marvel Super Heroes, which is judged "an awful lot better than Secret Wars I." Never having seen the original, it's not clear to me whether this is faint praise or not. Two Chaosium releases, Black Sword (for Stormbringer) and Terror from the Stars (for Call of Cthulhu) get positive reviews, as does West End's Ghostbusters. Acute Paranoia, a supplement for (naturally) Paranoia earns a more middling appraisal, largely due to its "disappointing" mini-scenarios.

"Where and Back Again" by Graham Staplehurst is one of the aforementioned bright spots of this issue. Dedicated to "Starting a Middle-earth Campaign," the article lays out all the decisions a referee looking to run a RPG campaign set in Tolkien's world must make. Staplehurst covers subjects like "style" (i.e. campaign frame), rules, and even source material. He also raises the question of how closely one might wish to hew to Middle-earth as described by the good professor and the consequences for choosing to deviate from that particular vision. It's a solid, thoughtful article on a topic that has long interested – and vexed – me. 

Dave Langford's "Critical Mass" has only rarely been something I've enjoyed and this issue's installment does little to change my mind. More enjoyable (to me anyway) is his second contribution to the issue, an odd little article entitled "Play It Again, Frodo." Ostensibly, Langford's assignment is to demonstrate "how closely role-playing and literature are entwined" in order to help readers convince their "serious" friends that gaming isn't a silly hobby. He attempts to do this through a series of vignettes based around famous books or movies – Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Conan, The Lord of the Rings, etc. – where he postulates that events go other (and humorously) than how they do in the originals. The idea here is that roleplaying allows to do things "your way" rather than being bound by the dictates of an omnipotent author. 

"20-20 Vision" by Alex Stewart reviews science fiction and fantasy movies. The bulk of this issue's column is devoted to the film, Highlander, in which "a medieval Scottish warrior with a French accent" is befriended by "Sean Connery's Glaswegian conquistador." Stewart calls the movie "a stylish, raucous and utterly preposterous D&D scenario transplanted bodily into contemporary New York." That's probably the most succinct (and amusing) way I've heard Highlander described and it does a good job, I think, of capturing the essence of its cheesy glory.

"All in the Mind" by Steven Palmer offers an alternate psionics system for use for AD&D. Palmer's system interests me for its relative simplicity – the article is only four pages long, as well as for its more flavorful elements. For example, there's a discussion of the heritability of psionic powers, as well as the inherent connection between twins. Neither of these elements plays a major role in his system, but the fact that they're mentioned at all is in stark contrast to the dreary, tedious treatment of psionics in the Players Handbook. 

"Ghost Jackal Kill" by Graeme Davis is a Call of Cthulhu scenario that's presented as a prequel to The Statue of the Sorcerer, a Games Workshop CoC adventure. The scenario is set in San Francisco and involves not only the Hounds of Tindalos, one my favorite type of Mythos entities. It also features real-world historical figures, specifically the actress Theda Bara and writer Dashiell Hammett. Normally, I tend to be leery of the inclusion of such people in RPG adventures, but, in this case, I think it works, particularly Hammett, who did actually work as a detective for the Pinkertons and drew on those experiences for his fiction. In any case, it's a good, short scenario and another of the issue's stand-outs in my opinion.

"Think About It" by Phil Masters examines the purpose and use of the Intelligence score (or its equivalent) in roleplaying games. Because it's an overview of a large topic, it's necessarily brief in its examination, but it does a good job, I think, of presenting different options and approaches to handling Intelligence in RPGs. "'Eavy Metal" provides tips on converting miniature figures, along with some nice color photographs. 

"Psi-Judges" by Carl Sargent – a name that would feature prominently on the covers of many RPG products throughout the late '80s and into the 1990s – is an expansion of Judge Dredd: The Roleplaying Game focused on, of course, psi-judges. Interestingly, it's equal parts a rules expansion and a roleplaying expansion. There's information on how to play a psi-judge in the game, alongside discussions of game balance and other matters. "Gobbledigook" and "Thrud the Barbarian" are still here, but I can't deny that I miss the presence of "The Travellers." The comic's absence really hits home to me just how much White Dwarf has changed from the days when I read (and enjoyed) it regularly.

One more week!

White Dwarf: Issue #77

Issue #77 of White Dwarf (May 1986) features an immediately recognizable cover illustration by Chris Achilleos. The image is probably best-known for its appearance on the September 1981 issue of Heavy Metal, though it has appeared in many other places over the years. I've noted before that, compared to Dragon, WD more regularly used re-purposed artwork for its cover illustrations, though I've never come to a satisfactory conclusion as to why this was the case. My best guess is that it was a matter of simple economics, reprinted art being perhaps cheaper than commissioning original art, but I honestly don' know if that's the case. In any event, this particular cover induces a bit of cognitive dissonance in me, since I so strongly associate it with Heavy Metal, not White Dwarf.

Issue #77 is also the last issue under the editorship of Ian Marsh. Marsh only took over in issue #74, so his departure so soon after his installation comes as a bit of a shock. In his final editorial, Marsh states that "the other staff of the magazine" would also be leaving, though he doesn't specify which ones. He seems to obfuscate on the reasons for all these departures, simultaneously reminding readers that Games Workshop was moving to Nottingham and that he and the others "have decided not to accompany it on this move," while also couching their decision as being for nebulous "reasons of our own." The next issue will have a "fresh team" headed up by Paul Cockburn.

The issue proper begins with the reviews of "Open Box." The first of these is Mayfair's DC Heroes, which receives a quite favorable (8 out of 10) review by Marcus L. Rowland, who continues to be the workhorse of the magazine. The Stormbringer adventure Stealer of Souls likewise scores 8 out of 10, while The Sea Elves, a supplement for the Elfquest RPG gets 7 on the same scale. Another Chaosium product, Alone Against the Dark for Call of Cthulhu earns 9 out of 10, but Yellow Clearance Black Box Blues for Paranoia receives only 7 – another example, I think, of where the numerical scores don't quite align with the text of the review itself. Finally, there are reviews of two supplements for FASA's Doctor Who RPG: The Daleks (7 out of 10) and The Master (6 out of 10). 

Dave Langford's "Critical Mass" is mostly forgettable to me, as usual, but he does take note of the death of Frank Herbert, opining that Chapter House: Dune, to which he gave a "mildly favorable" review back in issue #65 might be the end of "galactic power-politicking" in the Dune universe. How I wish that had been true! Colin Greenwell's "2020 Vision" reviews a few movies, most notably Young Sherlock Holmes, a forgettable, even laughable, Steven Spielberg movie that nonetheless does feature one of the earliest examples of a computer-generated character in the history of cinema – a dire portent of things to come.

"The Crazy File" by Peter Tamlyn provides a handful of new "crazies" – zealous devotees of social fads – for use with the Judge Dredd – The Role-Playing Game. The article contains no game statistics; it's pure background information intended to give the referee something inspirational for use in his own adventures and campaigns. "Spellbound" by Phil Masters looks at "magic in superhero games." Again, there's nothing mechanical here. Instead, it's an overview of how magic has been used in comics over the years and then offers advice and examples of how to make use of it in one's own original superhero RPG adventures and campaigns. It's well done in my opinion and helped by the fact that it's not geared toward any particular superhero RPG. 

"The Final Frontier" by Alex Stewart does something similar for Star Trek gaming: it's an overview of the unique characteristics of Gene Roddenberry's science fiction setting and how they can best be used to create enjoyable adventures and campaigns. As a fan of Star Trek – or at least I once was – I think the article is pretty well done for what it is, though I do find myself wondering about its intended audience. White Dwarf used to have lots of these introductory articles in its early days. To see them return so late in its run strikes me as odd, though I'm sure there's a logic to it that eludes me. 

Graham Staplehurst's "A Secret Wish" is an adventure that's written for both D&D and Middle-earth Role Playing. The scenario itself assumes the players take on the role of hobbits and deals with the disappearance and return of Glorfindel. How well it jibes with the actual history of Middle-earth as laid out by Tolkien, I can't rightly say, though, to me, it reads a bit like a work of fan fiction rather than something that could have come from the mind of the Professor himself. "A Cast of Thousands" by Graeme Davis is yet another look at NPCs and how to give them "personality." It's fine, though, as is so often the case with articles like this, I find it difficult to sift through the conventional wisdom repeated for the hundredth time from the genuine insights.

"The Cars That Ate Sanity" by Marcus L. Rowland is a set of car chase rules for use with Call of Cthulhu. Is this something anyone needed? I don't mean to be flippant, but I cannot recall any car chases in Lovecraft's fiction. Maybe my memory is failing me again. Chris Felton's "Gaming for Heroine Addicts" – a clever title – is about how avoid "sexism" in one's games and make them more enjoyable to women. As you might expect, the article is a very mixed bag of topics, not to mention perspectives. I'm not sure the article offers a coherent viewpoint on any of its topics, which range widely and make many assumptions about RPGs, men, women, and everything in between. I've already spent more time thinking about it than it probably deserves.

Joe Dever's "Tabletop Heroes" looks at the best techniques for photographing one's painted miniatures. I found it fascinating and very much appreciated the little diagrams that accompanied the article. They showed the placement of lighting, camera, and background and did a great job of illustrating the principles Dever discusses. "The Travellers," "Gobbledigook," and "Thrud the Barbarian" are all here as usual. "Thrud" pokes fun at superheroes by having the tiny-headed barbarian face off against the All-American Legion of Incredibly Stupid Heroes, such as

After reading Ian Marsh's farewell editorial, I now feel an obligation to read at least a few more issues. I'm genuinely curious now to see how much will change under a "fresh new team" at the helm of White Dwarf. If nothing else, it'll be fascinating purely from a historical perspective. Till then!

A Delightfully Blank Canvas

William Church's map of Prax from the second edition of Chaosium's RuneQuest remains one of my favorite RPG maps ever. The other day, for reasons that will become clear later, I found myself perusing a different Chaosium RPG, Stormbringer. The game's original 1981 boxed set includes, among its many goodies, a fold-out wall map of the Young Kingdoms that's also the handiwork of Mr Church. 

Please enlarge!

Though the map of the Young Kingdoms lacks the wonderful little details of the Prax map, I nevertheless find it quite compelling. Michael Moorcock and his evocative names – the Sighing Desert, the Weeping Waste, the Silent Lands, among many others – deserve a lot of the credit for that, of course, but Church also did a great job of bringing this classic fantasy setting to life. In fact, I might even argue that, in this case, the sparseness of the map works in its favor, particularly as a map for use with a roleplaying game. The map practically invites players and referees to fill in the blank spaces and make it their own, as any good RPG map should. 

Wild, Fanciful, and Often Trippy

I don't think it's much of an exaggeration to suggest that the covers of science fiction and fantasy novels have gotten much less imaginative over the years. By the mid-1980s, the writing was already on the wall and the wild, fanciful, and often trippy covers that simultaneously attracted and frightened me as a kid were on the way out, to be replaced by an endless parade of Michael Whelan, Darrell K. Sweet, and their imitators. This is no knock against Whelan, who's a great artist, but there is a certain predictability to even his best work that I frequently find disappointing. Come to think of it, predictability might well be the defining characteristic of post-1970s SF and fantasy art, itself a reflection of the mainstreaming and commodification of these genres. (Cue my inevitable dig at much of the oeuvre of Larry Elmore.)

Science fiction and fantasy were still (relatively) fringe interests in the 1960s and '70s and the artwork from the period reflects that. Take a look at these three different covers to the paperback releases of Michael Moorcock's The Stealer of Souls, starting with the Lancer edition of 1967:

I have a certain fondness for this cover, because my local public library still had a copy of the book on one of its spinner racks, where I first saw it. Jack Gaughan, best known for his work on the unauthorized US printings of The Lords of the Rings, is the artist of this piece, depicting Elric in battle against the reptilian demon Quaolnargn, summoned by Theleb K'aarna as part of a plan to separate the Melnibonéan from Stormbringer, while the spectral visage of (I assume) Yishana watches. 

The 1968 Mayflower edition took a completely different tack:

Bob Haberfield, who'd go on to do the covers of many more Elric novels, is responsible for this one, which is a terrific example of the kinds of covers I remember well from my youth. Unlike Gaughan's Lancer cover, this one has no obvious connection to anything that occurs in the novelette. That's pretty much par for the course in the late '60s and throughout the 1970s.

Finally, there's another Lancer edition, this time from 1973.

This piece is by Jeff Jones, who had an extensive career as a comics illustrator and I think that shows in the cover. I'm not entirely sure what it depicts, though my guess is that it might be the naval assault on Imrryr from The Dreaming City, with the monster being a Melnibonéan dragon. In any case, it's a very dynamic piece that grabs the attention, which is exactly what the covers of science fiction and fantasy covers used to do. 

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Stealer of Souls

Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melniboné is unquestionably one of the greatest characters in all of fantasy literature. The stories of his exploits exercised a profound influence not just on subsequent writers in the genre but also on the early history of roleplaying games. In particular, the idea of an eternal war between the powers of Law and Chaos – cribbed from Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions, by Moorcock's own admission – is one without which Dungeons & Dragons, RuneQuest, and Warhammer Fantasy Role-Play, to cite just three prominent examples, would be impossible. 

Yet, for all the cosmic elements of the saga of Elric, what makes its tales compelling are the personal struggles of its protagonist, as he attempts to square the demands of his conscience with those of the soul-hungry demon sword whose magic enables him to overcome the physical impairments of his birth. In this respect, the stories of Elric are very much in keeping with those of his pulp fantasy forebears, including Robert E. Howard's Conan, whose own adventures often stem from clashes between his convictions and the vicissitudes of life. Though Elric and Conan could not be more different – intentionally so – in this important respect there is a remarkable similarity.

I was reminded of this when re-reading The Stealer of Souls, the third of Moorcock's original Elric novelettes. Originally published in the February 1962 issue of Science Fantasy, it was published as a separate volume less than a year later by UK publisher, Neville Spearman. The Stealer of Souls is, first and foremost, a story of revenge and, in that respect, it could have featured Conan as its protagonist – except, of course, that Elric, unlike REH's barbarian, depends upon and wields dark magic to achieve his desired ends. Indeed, dark magic plays a significant role in the tale's events, which is part of why it's one of my favorite stories of Elric.

Another reason is that Moorcock's prose is delightfully pulpy and evocative throughout. Consider, for example, the start of the novelette:

In a city called Bakshaan, which was rich enough to make all other cities of the north-east seem poor, in a tall-towered tavern one night, Elric, Lord of the smoking ruins of Melniboné, smiled like a shark and dryly jested with four powerful merchant princes whom, in a day or so, he intended to pauperize. 

It's wonderful stuff, all the more so because Elric is much more immediately active in this adventure than he was in his previous outings. That lends a certain energy, even urgency, to The Stealer of Souls that I find quite attractive.

The merchant princes wish to hire Elric for his "particular qualities as a swordsman and sorcerer" and are willing to pay well for them. They offer him gold and gems for his services, but he rejects them, calling them "chains," adding that "free travelers need no chains." Elric says he decide on the nature of his payment later, which arouses some suspicion in his would-be employers, but they are sufficiently keen to enlist his aid that they let the matter rest.

The merchants explain that they wish Elric to eliminate a competitor of theirs, a man named Nikorn of Ilmar. Nikorn, it seems, is able to undercut all other merchants of Bakshaan. This impresses Elric, who states that, from what they have described of him, "[Nikorn] has earned his position." Why should he wish to kill him? Moreover, why not simply employ an assassin? They are commonplace in Bakshaan, after all. This is where the merchants come to the real crux of the matter – and of their need for Elric.

"... Nikorn employs a sorcerer – and a private army. The sorcerer protects him and his palace by means of magic. And a guard of desert men serve to ensure that if the magic fails, then natural methods can be used for the purpose. Assassins have attempted to eliminate the trader, but unfortunately, they were not lucky."

After briefly pausing to drink "a wine for those who wished to dream of different and less tangible worlds," Elric asks

"And who is this mighty sorcerer, Master Pilarmo?"

"His name is Theleb K'aarna," Pilarmo answered nervously.

Elric's scarlet eyes narrowed. "The sorcerer of Pan Tang?"

"Aye – he comes from that island."

Elric put his cup down upon the table and rise, fingering his blade of black iron, the runesword Stormbringer.

He said with conviction: "I will help you, gentlemen." He had made up his mind not to rob them, after all. A new and more important plan was forming in his brain.

Theleb K'aarna, he thought. So you have made Bakshaaan your bolt-hole, eh? 

Theleb K'aarna, we learn, is not only a sorcerer of Pan Tang, but an enemy of Elric, in large part because Elric had previously displaced him in the affections of Yishana, the queen of Jharkor. Now, he seeks to "prove" to Yishana, whom he still loves, that Elric is not worthy of her esteem by bringing him low. Elric, for his part, has been pursuing Theleb K'aarna across the Young Kingdoms for some time and sees the merchant princes' offer as an opportunity to best the Pan Tangian once again. 

Naturally, there's more to The Stealer of Souls than the tale of two men seeking vengeance upon one another, but revenge is its through-line, as well as its overarching theme. Along the way, though, the reader is treated to several magnificent displays of sorcery, including a battle between two elementals summoned by Elric and Theleb K'aarna. Elric must also deal with the aftermath of the downfall of Melniboné that he effected in The Dreaming City and that, too, adds to the personal stakes of the story's events. All in all, it's a fast-moving and character-driven narrative that, I think, shows Moorcock at his best.

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Last Enchantment

Though the character of Elric of Melniboné is perhaps best known from the novelettes and novellas in which he appears, like "The Dreaming City," Michael Moorcock also penned numerous shorter works featuring the last emperor of the Bright Empire. One of my favorites is "The Last Enchantment," which was first published in the pages of Ariel: The Book of Fantasy: Volume Three in October 1978 and later included in several different collections (which is where I read it). Though this was its first published appearance, Moorcock had actually written it almost two decades earlier, in 1962, at which time it bore the title "Jesting with Chaos" – a much more apt title in my opinion. Consequently, in terms of its conception, it harkens back to the early days of Moorcock's writing about Elric, which may well explain its appeal to me.

The tale begins as "a shuddering man … his bloated eyes full of blood" is running through a dark forest, clutching "a glowing black talisman" in his hand and muttering to himself. The reader soon learns that the man is named Slorg and that the strange talisman he carries enables him to speak with a disembodied being called Teshwan. It's then that Elric enters the story, riding through the very same forest.

The horseman's long, sharply delineated skull was leper-white, as if stripped of flesh, and his slightly slanting eyes gleamed crimson. He wore a jerkin of black velvet caught at the throat by a thin silver chain. His britches, too, were of black cloth, and his leather boots were high and shining. Over his shoulders was a high-collared cape of scarlet and a heavy longsword slapped at his side as he pulled his steed to a standstill. His long, flowing hair was as white as his face. The horseman was an albino.

Elric comes across Slorg, who begs him to aid him against the Hungry Whisperers, demonic beings who dog his trail. "Now why should I, my friend? Tell me that." Elric replies. Slorg then explains – or tries to explain – that he has been "profaned," but Elric quickly tells him that this is "none of my business." This doesn't sit well with Slorg, who becomes angry and tells the wandering Melnibonéan that, though he was "a man no longer," he was nevertheless "Siletah Slorg – Siletah of Oberlorn," a title that means nothing to Elric. 

Elric, in turn, introduces himself and this elicits a reaction from Slorg, who calls him an "outcast." He then asks Elric again for aid. "Help me and I will tell you secrets – such secrets!" Elric remains disinterested and bids Slorg farewell. The strange man then threatens the Melnibonéan with his talisman's "last enchantment" if he does not do as he asks. When Elric urges his horse onward instead, Slorg calls upon Teshwan to perform "a deed of vengeance" against him.

Not long afterward, Elric finds himself transported to "a vast and lonely expanse of flat, grey stone" that he suspects is another world, one ruled completely by the Lords of Chaos, of whom Teshwan was undoubtedly one. Worse than that, his mighty runesword, Stormbringer, is dead.

Normally the blade, forged by unhuman smith for Elric's royal ancestors, was alive with sentience – throbbing with the life-force it had stolen from a hundred men and women whom Elric had slain. Once before it had been like this – in the Caverns of Chaos long ago. 

Elric tightened his lips, then shrugged as he replaced the sword in its scabbard.

"In a world completely dominated by the forces of Chaos," he said, "I cannot rely on the powers which normally aid me in my sorcery. Thank Arioch I have a good supply of drugs about me, or I would indeed be doomed."

Elric presses forward and encounters another traveler, a man "dressed in green, a silver sword dangling in his right hand." The man tells Elric that he travels "to Kaneloon, for the Rites." The Rites, it seems, are performed by the Lords of Chaos to reform the world "into a fresh variety of patterns." Hearing this, he asks the man if there might be some way he could leave this realm of Chaos. The man suggests visiting the palace of Kaneloon. There, he might be able to convince the Lords to return him to his own world – or not, since "the Lords of Chaos are fickle." The man then disappears.

Elric makes his way to the palace and is given entrance by the guardian giant, who tells him that 

"My masters order me to inform you that you may enter but that, having once come to the Palace of Kaneloon, you may never leave save under certain conditions."

"Those conditions?"

"Of these they will tell you if you enter. Are you reckless – or will you stand pondering?"

"I'll avail myself of their generosity," smiled Elric and spurred his nervous horse forward.

The remainder of the story details Elric's meeting with the Lords of Chaos, including Teshwan, whom Slorg beseeched to exact his revenge on the Melnibonéan. He must confront them and the aforementioned condition in order to return home: "You may leave only if you can create something which it has never occurred to us to create."

"The Last Enchantment" is short and evocative. Not only is the reader treated to seeing Elric attempt to outwit the Lords of Chaos to save himself, but we get to something of the nature of these mysterious beings and their role in the multiverse. It's fascinating, even thought provoking stuff, made all the more enjoyable because Moorcock keeps his philosophizing on a short leash. The story is not over-indulgent and Elric, despite his exile, does not much yield to his signature melancholy. Instead, we get tight, clever tale of almost mythological character, in which a mortal contends with godlike beings – and wins.

White Dwarf: Issue #33

Issue #33 of White Dwarf (September 1982) features a strangely compelling cover by Andrew George. I'm honestly not sure what it's supposed to be depicting, but, whatever it is, I find it interesting. The issue contains quite a pair of Traveller articles, starting with "Weapons for Traveller," which is a collection is new weapons for the game submitted by readers. Relatedly, there is "Guns for Sale" by Steve Cook. Though brief, this is a useful article that looks at the availability of various Traveller weapons through normal channels, taking into account factors such as tech level and law level. My main complaint about the article is that, like others in White Dwarf, it makes use of percentile dice, which are wholly unknown in Traveller. 

Continuing with the Traveller theme, "Open Box" reviews Striker, giving 6 out of 10, which I think is quite fair when one considers its complexity and general utility. Also reviewed are all four modules in the "S;ave Lords" series, which are collectively given 7 out of 10. Chaosium's Elric boardgame receives the same score, as does Flying Buffalo's Grimtooth's Traps. Perhaps I am seeing something that's not really there, but I've noticed that the reviews in "Open Box" are becoming somewhat more critical than they had been at the start of the column. I think that's a good thing overall, since the whole purpose of reviews in my opinion is to discuss, as objectively as one can, the good and the bad of a product so that a reader has a solid basis on which to decide whether to buy the product for himself. I'll be keeping a closer eye on "Open Box" in future issues to see if indeed my sense of things is borne out.

Part III of Paul Vernon's "The Town Planner" series focuses on "Running Towns and Cities," with special attention being paid to government, local customs, laws, calendars, events, and urban encounters. Taken together, these topics are among the most interesting and immediately useful ones that Vernon has tackled in this series. Consequently, I really enjoyed reading his thoughts and ideas. "Rumble at the Tin Inn" by Michael Cule is a mini-scenario for use with RuneQuest that's explicitly inspired by Lewis Pulsipher's "A Bar-Room Brawl" from issue #11. Like its predecessor, it includes a map with cut-out counters and game statistics for all the potential combatants. 

Speaking of follow-ups (and Lewis Pulsipher), we get Part II of his "Arms at the Ready" series, the first part of which appeared in issue #31. Readers are treated to eight more weapons cards for use with AD&D. Oliver Dickinson's "Rune Rites" column looks at "Invisibility and Magic." In addition to presenting a magic item, "The Cap of Sight," the article includes a small piece written by Greg Stafford himself, entitled "Spells Which I Don't Use in My Campaign." Stafford explains that he finds spells like invisibility, concealment, and vision "make it hard for [him] to referee a decent game which includes drama and tension." For that reason, he does not make these spells "general available to regular people or adventurers." Fascinating!

"Brevet Rank for Low Level Characters" by Lewis Pulsipher is an odd article. The whole thing is premised on the idea that convention referees often encounter people who wish to join their adventure but who lack characters of sufficient level to do so. Pulsipher then puts forward a system by which the referee can "pro-rate" a low-level character so that he can participate in a high-level adventure. I have no particular objection to the guidelines Pulsipher offers, but why bother? Had not referees in the UK at the time heard of pre-generated convention characters? Chalk this one up to another installment in The Past is a Foreign Country.

"Fiend Factory" this month looks at psionic monsters with "All in the Mind." As is usually the case, the monsters are a mixed bag and include some truly bizarre creatures, like the Psi-Mule and Giant Mole (which is inexplicably possessed of several mental powers). More interesting, from a historical perspective if nothing else, is Zytra, Lord of the Mind Flayers, created by future science fiction author, Charles Stross (who also created the githyanki and githzerai). Finally, "Treasure Chest" is a true miscellany of material for D&D, from a new potion to a new spell to a system for handling wear and tear on armor.

All in all, it's a fine issue, with a good mix of material, though not quite as strong as the previous one. Even so, this coming issues match up with the period of my youth when I was an avid reader of White Dwarf. For nostalgia alone, I expect I'll enjoy re-reading them and, if my memories are not mistaken, they will contain a fair bit of material well worth re-visiting.

Pulp Fantasy Library: While the Gods Laugh

Whatever else one can say about Michael Moorcock's tales of albino sorcerer Elric of Melniboné, there's no question that they're chock full of fantastic concepts. This is notably so in "While the Gods Laugh," a short story first published in issue #49 of Science Fantasy (October 1961). Being the immediate sequel to "The Dreaming City," in which we see not only the sack of Imrryr and but also the death Elric's lover, Cymoril, Moorcock no doubt found himself in a difficult place story-wise. What does one do for an encore after such a startling opening act?

Naturally, "While the Gods Laugh" begins with Elric brooding, as he drinks alone in a tavern. While he ruminates over the disastrous events of the previous year, he is interrupted by "a wingless woman of Myyrrhn," who initially does not identify herself by name. She has sought after Elric for some time and, now that she has found him, she wishes to speak with him. For his part, Elric attempts to dissuade her, explaining that he is "an evil man" and his destiny is "hell-doomed." 

The woman is undeterred. She tells him that her name is Shaarilla of the Dancing Mist, the "wingless daughter of a dead necromancer – a cripple in her own strange land, and an outcast." Further, she asks Elric if he has ever heard of the Dead Gods' Book.

Elric nodded. He was interested, despite the need he felt to disassociate himself as much as possible from his fellows. The mythical book was believed to contain knowledge which could solve many problems that had plagued men for centuries – it held a holy and mighty wisdom which every sorcerer desired to sample. But it was believed destroyed, hurled into the sun when the Old Gods were dying in the cosmic wastes which lay beyond the outer reaches of the solar system. Another legend, apparently of later origin, spoke vaguely of the dark ones who interrupted the Book's sunward coursing and had stolen it before it could be destroyed. Most scholars discounted this legend, arguing that, by this time, the Book would have come to light if it did still exist.

Shaarilla insists that the book exists and that she knows where it is. She promises to give the Book – and herself, if he wishes – to Elric, if only he would aid her in finding it. Elric is confused.

"If you want it so badly that you seek my help," he said eventually, "why do you not wish to keep it?"

"Because I would be afraid to have such a thing perpetually in any custody – it is not a book for an ordinary mortal to own, but you are possibly the last mighty nigromancer left in the world and it is fitting that you should have it. Besides, you might kill me to obtain it – I would never be safe with such a volume in my hands. I need only a small part of its wisdom."

"What is that?" Elric enquired, studying her patrician beauty with a new pulse stirring within him.

Her mouth set and the lids fell over her eyes. "When we have the Book in our hands – then you will have your answer. Not before."

"This answer is good enough," Elric remarked quickly, seeing that he would gain no more information at that stage.

Elric himself seeks the book because he believes it might contain "the secret of peace" within its pages, the secret that would free him from the "incommunicable self-loathing" that leads him to "scream in [his] sleep." As they travel in the Silent Land together later, Elric talks more explicitly to Shaarilla about why he seeks the Book.

The tall albino dropped the folded tent to the grass and sighed. His fingers played nervously with the pommel of his runesword. "Can an ultimate god exist – or not? That is what I need to know Shaarilla, if my life is to have any direction at all.

"The Lords of Law and Chaos now govern our lives. But is there some being greater than them?"

Shaarilla put a hand on Elric's arm. "Why must you know?" she said.

"Despairingly, sometimes, I seek the comfort of a beningn god, Shaarilla. My mind goes out, lying awake at night, searching through black barrenness for something – anything – which will take me to it, warm me, protect me, tell me that is order in the chaotic tumble of the universe; that it is consistent, this precision of the planets, not simply a brief spark of sanity in an eternity of malevolent anarchy."

Elric sighed and his quiet tones were tinged with hopelessness. "Without some confirmation of the order of things, my only comfort is to accept anarchy. This way, I can revel in chaos and know, without fear, that we are all doomed from the start – that our brief existence is both meaningless and damned. I can accept that, then, that we are more than forsaken, because there was never anything there to forsake us. I have weighed the proof, Shaarilla, and must believe that anarchy prevails, in spite of all the laws which seemingly govern our actions, our sorcery, our logic. I see only chaos in the world. If the book we seek tells me otherwise, then I shall gladly believe it. Until then, I will put my trust only in my sword and myself." 

How one reacts to this passage will, I think, say a great deal about how one views the overall story of "While the Gods Laugh." This is, in many ways, a fairly straightforward fantasy quest, with Elric and Shaarilla, later joined by Moonglum of Elwher, who will of course become the Melnibonéan's boon companion, traveling across the Young Kingdoms and facing many obstacles before reaching their ultimate destination – and the Book itself. What separates it from similar fare are the philosophical musings and asides, as Moorcock begins to work out the details of the cosmology of Law and Chaos and how that cosmology affects the realm of mortals like Elric. 

I won't pretend there's anything deep here, but it's compelling stuff nonetheless. It's for this reason that I put up with Elric's perpetual moping: it's often an occasion for Moorcock to tease out underlying reality of the Young Kingdoms and the forces that govern it. If nothing else, it's more food for thought in the eternal struggle to make sense of alignment and how it might be made to work in Dungeons & Dragons. That's more than worth the price of admission in my opinion.

Different Worlds: Issue #21

I don't usually write about the letters column of Different Worlds for a number of reasons. However, in the case of issue #21 (June 1982), I want to draw brief attention to a letter by Steve Perrin, in which he responds to an article in issue #20 about heraldry. Perrin is quite complimentary about the article by Robin Wood but wishes to point out a handful of errors and misapprehensions based on his longtime association with the Society for Creativity Anachronism. In looking at the history of roleplaying games, we often forget the role played by the SCA as a crucible for many ideas that would later become important in the hobby (especially on the West Coast of the United States). Seeing this latter reminded me of that, as well as my own ignorance about this aspect of the hobby's prehistory.

"Racial Sight Differences" is the first article of the issue and it's an odd one. To start, it's author is credited simply as Shadowstar, which I can only assume is a pseudonym. Its subject matter is the differences between "human and non-human ways of seeing," starting with infravision but going beyond that into theoretical notions such as texture and vibration sensitivity. The article is short and peculiar – a bit like me, I suppose – and, while it doesn't include any game mechanics, it raises some interesting questions in a Gygaxian naturalistic vein. Also of note is that the article is illustrated by an artist credited as "Michael Mignola," who, at the time, was still a student.

"Healing Plants and Other Herbs" by Robin Wood is an amazing article. Seven pages in length, it's filled with many helpful illustrations of leaves and flowers to accompany straightforward, interesting text about various plants and herbs with healing properties. Most useful, though, is a series of tables at the end of the article to help the referee in designing unique (and fantastical) healing plants for use in his campaign setting. These are the kinds of articles I really enjoy seeing and this one is no exception. "Pistols" by Paul Montgomery Crabaugh offers up a few new handguns for use with GDW's Traveller, while John T. Sapienza's "Grenadier Hirelings, Fighting Men & Specialists" is a review of three different sets of AD&D miniatures.

Larry Best's "Fantasy Is Reality" is listed as a "philosophy" article, which tells you what you're in for. Best recounts his experiences as a graduate student in medieval English literature studying older texts and how what he read in, say, Beowulf or the Greenlander's Saga clashed with his everyday experience of the world. He knew there were no such things as monsters or spirits of the dead and yet all these stories spoke of them as if there were. Best states that 

I realize that technology, education, and shoes have caged me, kept me from a realm too often considered mere fantasy, a world through which I might perceive medieval literature, and all literature, and my entire life from a new and visual standpoint, a beautiful and fantastic world of pure reality.

I really don't know what to make of this article, so I won't even try.

Ken St. Andre's "The Elric Saga: See Battle Near Melniboné" is a solo adventure for use with Stormbringer. It's a fun little scenario based on events from the works of Michael Moorcock. "Creating Jolanti" by Michael Malony and Greg Stafford is a RuneQuest piece describing the constructed race known as the Jolanti. "Making a Magic Staff" by Gerald M. Schmitt is a D&D variant that offers rules and guidelines for making the ubiquitous wizard's staff much more mechanically useful. As is often the case with the articles of Different Worlds, it's not something I'd make use of myself, but I nonetheless appreciate variants of this sort.

This month's reviews highlight Waspwinter and Legend of the Sky Raiders, both for Traveller. The latter is rightly lauded, while the former is not. Also reviewed are Journey to the Center of the Circle (which I do not know) and Descent into the Depths of the Earth. John T. Sapienza's "An Expanded Cleric vs. Undead System" seeks to alter the turning system in order to better take into account the disparity between a cleric's level and that of the undead he's attempting to turn. Gigi D'Arn comments on how hard it is to write a monthly column, with which I can sympathize. Nevertheless, she comments upon the fall-out of the end of SPI, starting with its acquisition by TSR and the establishment of Victory Games. There's also mention of TSR's purchase of Amazing stories and a needlework company, as well as the (unrealized) rumor that Chaosium had obtained the rights to produce a game based on Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser stories. 

I continue to enjoy reading Different Worlds and am curious to see where the magazine goes as the 1980s wear on.

First Impressions

I owe a huge debt to the public library not far from my childhood home, because it was very well stocked with fantasy and science fiction paperbacks. So much of my early education in the classics of these genres came from books I borrowed from the library. To this day, I can still see the covers of many of them, such as this one, with its illustration by Michael Whelan.

My feelings about Elric have always been complicated. I love the ideas of the Elric novels and think the Young Kingdoms are a wonderful imagined fantasy setting, but I've often been less than enthusiastic about the execution of the stories. Likewise, I have a potent love/hate relationship with the character of Elric of Melniboné, finding him equal parts compelling and insufferable. I've come to believe that my feelings are precisely what Moorcock intended and, if so, kudos to him. 

When I was in high school, I decided that I needed to own the Elric novels for myself. I trudged down to the Waldenbooks at the local mall and sought out the science fiction and fantasy section, hoping I'd find copies of the DAW editions I'd first read several years before. Alas, they were no longer in print. Instead, I found the silver Berkeley Books versions with artwork by Robert Gould.

There's no question Gould's artwork is distinctive, but I don't find it as evocative as Whelan's, but perhaps that's a function of my having seen Whelan's first. Regardless, this is the cover of the first Elric book I ever owned and, for that reason, it's burned into my memory, even though I like Whelan's cover of the same book more.

Does this happen to anyone else? Is there a piece of artwork you saw that made such an impression on you that it's colored your ability to appreciate later illustrations of the same subject?

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Witcher

Like most native English speakers, I've generally been quite ignorant of fantasy and science fiction outside of my own linguistic bubble. I've made efforts to correct this myopia, but I've been hampered by the fact that, outside of French, I've largely had to wait until translations into English become available and that's necessarily limited the scope of what I can read. However, a little over a decade ago, a friend of mine suggested I take a look at the work of Polish writer Andrzej Sapkowski. I'd never heard of the man, but that's hardly surprising: despite my surname, I don't read Polish and no one in my family has done so in nearly a century. Even so, I'd come to trust my friend's recommendations and I sought out a copy of a newly translated volume of Sapkowski's short stories.  

The short stories in question concern a professional monster hunter named Geralt of Rivia, who made his first appearance in "The Witcher," published in the December 1986 issue of  the Polish magazine Fantastyka. Writing this in 2020, I almost feel as if there's little need to introduce Geralt and his world, since, in the years since I first read the story that introduced him, he's appeared in a series of successful video games, as well as a television series. A decade ago, this wasn't the case and I was, as I said, among the many people who was completely oblivious of the character or his author. At the same time, there's a very good chance that many people who are familiar with the character from spin-off media have never read the stories from which they are derived, which is why I though a post like this would be useful. 

The story begins as a stranger enters the city of Wyzim, looking for place to spend the night and encounters resistance from the locals.

The stranger was not old but his hair was almost entirely white. Beneath his coat he wore a worn leather jerkin laced up at the neck and shoulders.

As he took off his coat those around him noticed that he carried a sword – not something unusual in itself, nearly every man in Wyzim carried a weapon – but no one carried a sword strapped to his back as if it were a bow or a quiver.

The stranger did not sit at the table with the few other guests. He remained standing at the counter, piercing the innkeeper with his gaze. He drew from the tankard.

"I'm looking for a room for the night."

"There's none," grunted the innkeeper, looking at the guest's boots, dusty and dirty. "Ask at the Old Narakort."

"I would rather stay here." 

 As we soon learn, the innkeeper "recognized the stranger's accent" – a Rivian accent – and disliked him for it. "All Rivians are thieves," says one of the inn's patrons. Three men set upon the stranger, but he quickly dispatches them, showing himself to be an adept swordsman. Hearing the commotion, the city guard rush into the inn, overpower the stranger, and arrest him. The guards take him to Velerad, Wyzim's castellan, who declares himself "a just man" willing to listen to the stranger's explanation for his actions rather than simply ordering him impaled for murder.

The stranger, who introduces himself as Geralt, states that he is a witcher – a monster hunter – and he's come to Wyzim because of a proclamation by King Foltest, seeking aid in dealing with some sort of supernatural menace, the details of which are vague. Geralt presses the castellan to provide those details, which he does. Foltest, while still crown prince, got his sister, Adda, pregnant. Adda died in childbirth, as did their daughter, and both were buried in the royal crypt. Seven years later, the child had risen from the grave as a cursed monster called a striga and she set about killing the inhabitants of the palace and those who dwell nearby – several dozen a year, in fact.

Such has been the situation for another seven years – much to Geralt's surprise – and no one has found a way to resolve the matter, largely because King Foltest won't allow anyone to destroy the striga, whom he still, in some sense, considers his daughter. The king wants his daughter freed from the curse, not slain. This is why Geralt is met with suspicion both by Velerad and, later, the king himself: witchers aren't known for their compassion toward monsters. They have a well deserved reputation for success in slaying monsters, not saving them. Nevertheless, Geralt assures his skeptical would-be patrons that he knows a method of undoing the curse without killing the princess and sets out to do just that.

When I first read "The Witcher," what struck me immediately was how much it reminded me of a noir novel, with Geralt taking the place of the gruff but honorable private eye – a hallowed pulp archetype that's been reinvented numerous times. Like a lot of pulp fantasies, "The Witcher" isn't high art, let alone philosophically deep, but it's fun and I appreciated the way that Sapkowski made use of actual eastern European folklore in its plot, something he does in subsequent stories of Geralt's adventures. On the other hand, he also includes many clichéd fantasy elements, like elves and dwarves, that don't bring much to the table, though, in his defense, they might be less common in Polish fantasy than they are in English ones. Still, I enjoyed the first story enough that I eventually read several others and continue to think well of them. I believe the entire saga of Geralt is now available in English and, thanks to the success of the games and the TV series, are easy to come by should you wish to see for yourself.

Imagine Magazine: Issue #22

 Issue #22 of Imagine (January 1985) fittingly features a cover by Rodney Matthews entitled "Earl Aubec." I say fittingly, as this issue's "theme" is Michael Moorcock and his works.  That alone made me sit up and take notice, since I have long had a love/hate relationship with Moorcock as a writer and creator. I'm always interested in hearing what he has to say, even if I frequently disagree with it. Seeing the blazon on the cover announcing several Moorcock-related features immediately increased my enthusiasm to read the magazine's contents. 

"The Vampire Revamped" by Derrick Norton is the issue's first article. It's an extensive examination of the undead monster, with an eye toward expanding its powers and abilities for use with AD&D. I have no objection to this and in fact think it's a good idea. The vampires of Dungeons & Dragons have always been a bit bland in my opinion (hence my own variant of them) and Norton does a good job of presenting multiple alternatives, even if some of them are bit more potent than I'd prefer myself.

"Gibbet Street" is the latest installment in the series describing the City League of Pellinore. As its name suggests, Gibbet Street gets its name from the gallows that stands there – a reminder to the inhabitants of this shady part of the city that criminal behavior can have dire consequences. Also nearby is Beggars Alley. As usual, there are plenty of quirky NPCs detailed, along with examples of the city's guilds. Also presented is information on capturing and selling monsters for use as opponents in the arena (described in last issue). As I have said several times before, I find Pellinore quite charming in its content and terrific in its presentation. It's a good model, I think, for building up a fantasy setting from the ground up and has undoubtedly influenced my posts on Urheim.

Michael Moorcock's "The Last Enchantment" is a Elric short story originally published in 1978. It concerns the Melnibonéan's journey into a realm of Chaos and his efforts to escape it. The story, which I had read before, is not an action packed one. Rather, it's somewhat philosophical and gives Moorcock the chance to muse about the nature of Chaos. Not one of Moorcock's great tales but it's worth a read nonetheless. Much more interesting, I think, is his interview in which he touches upon a very wide range of topics, from Deities & Demigods to Mervyn Peake to why the Eternal Champion always has a companion at his side. If you've read interviews with Moorcock before, none of it is particularly revelatory (or new), but I enjoyed reading it nonetheless. Another article, "The Theatre of Michael Moorcock" by David Hill, is an overview of the three main Eternal Champions series (Elric, Hawkmoon, and Corum), presented as if it were notes from an imaginary stage production.

"Earl Aubec and the Iron Galleon" is an adventure for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons written by Michael Brunton based on an outline by Moorcock. It's an unusual adventure in that it's intended for a single player, who takes the role of Aubec, Earl of Malador. Aubec is a great hero of the Young Kingdoms from before the time of Elric, as well as a previous incarnation of the Eternal Champion. A second character, Jhary-a-Conel, is provided in the event that a second player is included. It's an intriguing scenario, involving a sea voyage that results in a fogbound collision with the titular Iron Galleon. The adventure also includes rules for luck points that remind me of those in Conan Unchained!

Graeme Davis and Colin Greenland take a long look at gamebooks in "Solo Voyages." They cover a lot of ground in this piece, from Fighting Fantasy to Lone Wolf to Tunnels & Trolls and The Fantasy Trip. I find the concept of solo fantasy gaming fascinating, even though I have fairly limited experience with it myself, so this article held my attention. There are plenty of reviews this month, such as Lords of Creation, Middle Earth Roleplaying, and Star Trek the Roleplaying Game, in addition to supplements for Marvel Super Heroes, Indiana Jones, and Traveller. I enjoy reading old reviews, both for the perspective on how things were viewed in the past and for how things are viewed in different contexts. Overall, I'd say Imagine tends to be a bit harsher in its reviews than was Dragon, though, in the case of this issue, that wasn't quite so clear.

Brian Creese's "Chainmail" continues to discuss postal gaming, something with which I have no experience and still find it hard to imagine was once sufficiently popular to command a monthly column devoted to it. Colin Greenland's "Fantasy Media" reviews The Last Starfighter, which he praises for its computer effects, and The Dune Encyclopedia, one of my favorite bits of para-fiction ever published. I should write a post about it someday, because it's a remarkable piece of work that too few people have ever seen, let alone read. Rounding out the issue is Roger Musson's "Stirge Corner," which tackles languages – a topic dear to my heart – and new installments of "Rubic of Moggedon" and "Phalanx."

This is another strong issue, aided no doubt by the presence of all the Michael Moorcock-related material. I've lamented many times before the decoupling of roleplaying games and the literature that inspired them. Seeing the work of a genuine literary superstar like Moorcock in a magazine devoted to RPGs is thus a big thrill for me, as well as a reminder of the lost world I grew up in, when being a D&D player meant that of course you had read Elric (and Conan and John Carter and Middle-earth and …), a situation that seems far less true today than it was in my youth. Ah well.

Elric in D&D

I've never been much of a fan of Deities & Demigods, though I owned it, of course. Why wouldn't I? I have always had decidedly completionist tendencies and being an unabashed TSR fanboy, there was no chance I wouldn't purchase this book as soon as I was able to do so. It's true I didn't get much use out of it, but I still proudly displayed it on my bookshelf, right next to the Monster Manual. 

One thing that always bugged me was the strange acknowledgement at the front of the book: "Special thanks are also given to Chaosium, Inc. for permission to use the material found in the Cthulhu Mythos and the Melnibonean Mythos." My copy of the book didn't include either of those mythoi and neither did the copies of any of my friends. I eventually learned from older gamers that the first printing of the book did include these chapters, but I could never find any evidence that it was true. In fact, it wasn't until college that could verify these stories; my roommate actually owned a copy of the legendary first printing and I finally beheld it with my own eyes.

These are the stats of Elric, as well as an illustration of him by Jeff Dee. Like so much in Deities & Demigods, I remember being struck by how powerful Elric is, not simply in terms of his ability scores but also his many classes and their levels. I never quite understood the logic of giving literary heroes so many classes, when such things were explicitly impossible under the AD&D rules. I remember, too, my puzzlement at assigning the Chaotic Evil alignment to Elric. He never struck me as evil himself. Most of the terrible things that happen in the stories are not due to his direct action, but I suppose that's a matter of interpretation.

More interesting to me were the stats for the sword Stormbringer.

Stormbringer was the ultimate magical sword in the mind of my friends and I. Forget Excalibur or Glamdring or Durendal, Stormbringer was what everyone wanted and fantasy roleplaying games have been filled with blatant rip-offs of the deadly runeblade for as long as I've been gaming. As you can see, Stormbringer is every bit as powerful as you'd imagine, putting Blackrazor to shame.

It's worth noting that the earlier Gods, Demigods & Heroes supplement for OD&D also included the Melnibonéan mythos, though I was somehow unaware of this fact until many years after I acquired a copy of the book. Interestingly, Elric's stats therein are quite similar in many respects, though, in keeping with the generally lower power level of OD&D, they are not quite as egregious. The same is true of the stats for Stormbringer. Looking at them now, I find myself reminded of why I generally prefer OD&D to AD&D: the power curve is less steep and more human. Even the mightiest of fictional characters translated into OD&D are a far cry from the absurdities they become in AD&D. This is a topic to which I shall return in future posts.

Elric in Comics

Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melniboné has appeared in many comics over the years, most of them more or less straight adaptations of his literary adventures. There are exceptions, of course, like these issues of Marvel's Conan the Barbarian, which features Elric fighting side by side with the celebrated Cimmerian (in a story penned by Moorcock himself). 

A couple of other noteworthy "appearances" are parodies, such as this one in the page of issue #57 (September 1984) of White Dwarf. The issue featured another installment of Carl Critchlow's Thrud the Barbarian, in which the eponymous barbarian encounters Eric of Bonémaloné, "the last prince of a dying race: a melancholy crimson eyed wimp, who can only survive through a deadly symbiotic relationship with the magical sword Stoatbringer!"

I remember this particular comic well, since issue #57 was from the run when I had a subscription to White Dwarf. Thrud the Barbarian, along with The Travellers, was one of my favorite things about White Dwarf and I still look back with fondness on both comics. 

Another parody of Elric was Elrod of Melvinbone, who appeared in Dave Sim's Cerebus, first appearing in issue #4 (June 1978), but reappearing many times thereafter. This character is a strange one, in large part because he inexplicably has the speech patterns of Foghorn Leghorn (or Senator Claghorn, if you prefer). He wielded a magic sword called Seersucker.

I don't believe I ever encountered Elrod until I was in college, when I met a guy who was a huge fan of Cerebus (then still incomplete). He had several of those large phonebook-style collections and lent them to me in an effort to turn me on to them. At the time, I found them equal parts baffling and trippy and could never quite understand what he saw in them, but I thought Elrod (and, to a lesser extent, Red Sophia) was a mildly amusing parody of the original. I recall reading somewhere that Moorcock found Elrod funny, which, if true, speaks well of the man, though I can find no evidence of it from my brief searches into the matter.