Retrospective: Leviathan

When I first shifted the focus of my Retrospective posts toward classic Traveller, I hadn't consciously decided to look at those adventures included in my Top 10 Classic Traveller Adventures about which I'd not previously written separate posts, but, after last week's post on Duneraiders, I realized that's exactly what I'd been doing. Rather than fight it, I've decided to lean into it, which is why I'm turning my gaze to Adventure 4: Leviathan, which I placed at the lofty rank of number 2 out of 10.

Leviathan is a very unusual adventure for a number of reasons. First published in 1980, it was written by Bob McWilliams a name many of you might recognize from the pages of White Dwarf, where McWilliams had a regular column called "Starbase" devoted to Traveller. "Starbase" was a favorite – or should I say favourite? – feature of mine and one of the primary reasons I read White Dwarf in my youth. Unlike Dragon, where Traveller (and science fiction more generally) was mostly an afterthought until the advent of the Ares Section in April 1984, White Dwarf gave pride of place to Traveller, making it very appealing to a young sci-fi nerd like myself. 

In many ways, Leviathan is as much a product of Games Workshop as it is of Game Designers' Workshop (GDW). In addition to McWilliams, the adventure credits Albie Fiore (another WD stalwart), Ian Livingstone (nuff said), and Andy Slack (ditto) as having edited it. Furthermore, the book includes illustrations by Fiore and the incomparable Russ Nicholson. Strengthening the overall Britishness of Leviathan is its use of UK spellings throughout the text, which is perhaps unintentionally appropriate, given the game's use of the double-l orthography for Traveller (whose origin, Marc Miller told me at Gamehole Con, lies with E.C. Tubb's Dumarest of Terra series). 

Traveller's default playstyle could probably be described as a "hexcrawl in space," quite literally, given what the game's interstellar star charts look like. Leviathan takes this a step further, with the characters hired by the large multi-system trading cartel, Baraccai Technum, to participate in the exploration of a region of space known as the Outrim Void. The Void lies to rimward of the Spinward Marches sector and gets its name not from its emptiness but from its relative lack of civilization, at least compared to the Imperium. The terms of the characters' contract require them to sign on as crew for the exploratory merchant ship Leviathan on a voyage of about six months.

This is a very interesting and unusual set-up for a Traveller adventure, one that's been relatively rarely used in the game's history. One would think, given the history of popular science fiction, that interstellar exploration of an unknown area of space would be a fairly common subject for scenarios. That's generally not been the case with Traveller, at least not within the official Third Imperium setting. A big reason for that, as that setting evolved over the years, it's been extensively – even exhaustively – mapped, with literally thousands of worlds placed, named, provided with stats, and often more. That's been a blessing and a curse for referees over the decades and remains so today. 

But, at the time Leviathan was written, that wasn't the case. The Third Imperium was then a very loose framework individual referees could shape to their own preferences and needs and the presentation of the Outrim Void demonstrates this. The worlds of the region are only briefly described and precisely what the characters will find as they explore them is largely left to the referee to fill in. Much like the Imperium itself, the Void is a loose framework for adventure, making it usable for all manner of encounters and scenarios. That's a big part of its appeal: it's a great tool for referees who want to do their own thing without having to invent an entire universe from whole cloth. 

Interestingly, Leviathan spends almost half of its 44 pages to information on the titular 1800-ton Leviathan-class merchant cruiser. We get not only keyed deckplans, but also game stats for the ship and its entire 56-man crew (not counting the player characters). Equally useful are 26 rumo(u)rs about the Outrim Void to entice the characters, as they explore. The five pages of library data serve a similar purpose. This is not an "adventure module" in the sense players of Dungeons & Dragons or other RPGs would recognize. Instead, it's a collection of aids to the referee to aid him in building a wide variety of situations that might arise as the characters travel from world to world throughout the Outtim Void. 

Leviathan is thus a reminder of an earlier period of the hobby, before gamers expected companies, in the words of OD&D's afterward, to do the imagining for them. Like The World of Greyhawk, Adventure 4 provides referees with an outline to which they are expected to add whatever details they needed or desired. And those details could vary widely from referee to referee and campaign to campaign rather than being bound up in a rigid canon, a concept that was, if not completely unknown, at least highly unusual in those days. By today's standards, then, Leviathan is something of a throwback and why I rate it so highly. 

REVIEW: Wulfwald

A common early complaint about Dungeons & Dragons was that the game's three little brown books failed to provide much in the way of a cultural or social context for its "fantastic medieval wargames campaigns." Correcting this perceived shortcoming was part of the impetus behind the creation and publication of several early RPGs that appeared in OD&D's wake, most notably Empire of the Petal Throne, Chivalry & Sorcery, and even RuneQuest to some extent. All of these games (and others) place much greater emphasis on the ways that culture and society not only intersect with but can offer a justification for adventuring than Dungeons & Dragons did at the time or, in fact, has ever done. 

I was reminded of this when I started reading Wulfwald, Lee Reynoldson's superb roleplaying game set in a world inspired by the folklore and legends of pagan Anglo-Saxon England. I say "inspired by," because, as Reynoldson explains, "Wulfwald is not set on our Earth," but rather is set on "another world," where "the myth and magic that was superstition in Earth's history is a real, if rare, force." As a game, Wulfwald should be almost immediately familiar to anyone who's played D&D or one of its descendants – not merely in terms of its rules but also in terms of its play. All the usual activities you expect in Dungeons & Dragons, whether they be delving in the dark, fighting monsters, or looting treasure, are supported in Wulfwald, but are given a new and compelling context.

Before proceeding further, I'd like to elaborate briefly on Wulfwald's relationship with D&D and its rules. Wulfwald is not "complete" game in the sense of including all the rules you need to play yet another retro-clone of Dungeons & Dragons. Reynoldson assumes you already know what hit points, armor class, and saving throws are, for example. When these and other familiar concepts come up in the text, there's no explanation of them or how they work, except when Wulfwald offers a new take on them that deviates from the way anyone who's played D&D generally understands them. I don't see this as a problem, but it might be surprising or even off-putting to those used to the approach adopted by most other old school D&D-derived games. 

With that out of the way, let's move on to Wulfwald itself. The game comes in a thin, sturdy box, inside of which are five staplebound A5 booklets and a cloth(!) map depicting the land of Wulfwald, as drawn by the late, great Russ Nicholson. The booklets have a clean, simple layout that's easy on the eyes. The covers of each booklet features artwork by Katie Wakelin, while the interior art is done by Stefano Accordi. I like the cover art much better than the interior art, but all the illustrations evoke the dark, early medieval period in which the game is rooted. Nicholson's cartography, of course, is gorgeous and a joy simply to look at and wonder at its details.

The premise of Wulfwald is that all the characters are "wolfsheads," who are outsiders and outlaws who exist outside the law's protection. Their status means that anyone can harm or kill them without fear of retribution. To avoid this fate, the game assumes the characters have banded together in the service of a Thegn or warrior-lord and act as his service. In exchange for such service, the wolfsheads can expect gifts of beauty and value that reflect their newfound honor and status within the setting. This set-up is a clever way to recontextualize adventurers, making them simultaneously rough outsiders but also having a place, albeit an unusual one, in society. 

Unlike "normal" D&D, Wulfwald has only three levels, corresponding (more or less) to the veteran, hero, and superhero levels from Dave Arneson's Blackmoor campaign. However, there is a rules appendix that provides for a greater number of levels for those referees and players who prefer them. Characters belong to one of four kindreds: Eorðwerod (Men), Ælfcynn (Elves), Dweorgas (Dwarves), and Réðealingas (Outlanders). Each kindred has three unique classes, each belonging to one of three archetypes: warrior, skirmisher, and wizard. For example, Men have the Scildmægden (warrior), Sperebróga (skirmisher), and Scinnlæca (wizard), while Elves have the Wuduheald (warrior), Scytta (skirmisher), and Gealdor Sangere (wizard). All classes have their own advancement tables, as well as unique results for criticals and fumbles. Warriors also have an ability called "heroic effort," an unusual feat of arms that can be employed once an adventure.

An aspect of Wulfwald that could, I imagine, discourage some potential buyers is its regular use of Old English, complete with odd letters like æ or ð. Speaking as an old Tékumel hand, I know that a lot of people don't like words that require the use of a pronunciation guide to say properly. I can only say that Old English, once you know the rules, isn't all that difficult to pronounce. Moreover, its use in Wulfwald goes a long way toward investing the setting with a distinct flavor. In many cases, the text does provide alternate, contemporary words to use instead of the Old English ones for those who find the others a bit too flavorful, but I much prefer the Old English ones. Your mileage may vary.

Flavor is a big part of what separates Wulfwald from "standard" D&D, even if it makes use of all the expected elements of the game, like magic, monsters, and treasure. I've already noted that each of the character classes is distinctive. The same holds for the systems of magic some of them use. Wulfwald includes four different systems, from runic fateweaving and spell singing to the Forbidden Path and wicce cræft. Likewise, magic items are all unique items, each with its own history and powers. Monsters, too, include a fair number of unique beings, like the draca (dragons) and eotenas (giants).

"Unique" is a word I've used a lot in this review and with good reason. What sets Wulfwald apart from many old school fantasy products is that it's very specific in not just its inspirations but also in the way it's chosen to make use of them. While I'm on record for saying there's nothing wrong with vanilla fantasy, there's also, in my opinion, a distinct pleasure that comes from roleplaying according to the culture, customs, and beliefs of a particular society, whether real or imaginary. That's why my House of Worms campaign has been so enjoyable: the players get to be, if only for a little while, people who inhabit another world with its own rules and ways of looking at things. This is something Wulfwald does very well, too.

The game's five books cover character generation, magic (including magic items and religion), the setting of Wulfwald (including a sample scenario and skirmish battles), monsters, NPCs, and more. Taken together, they provide enough for the referee to kick off a campaign while still leaving lots of room for individual creativity. Wulfwald isn't Tékumel or Glorantha; there isn't an encyclopedia's worth of information to digest. Rather, the game's five books do a good job of painting a compelling big picture with plenty of room to add detail here or a splash of color there. It strikes a nice balance between too much and too little. In short, it inspires, which is exactly what I want out of a product like this.

If you're looking for a well presented new setting for your favorite D&D-alike that draws on real world folklore and history in a fun way, I'd highly recommend yout take a look at Wulfwald. It's one of the best things I've bought this year.

Wulfwald Bundle of Holding

Most people who read this blog are probably already familiar with the Bundle of Holding, which offers limited-time sales of tabletop RPGs in PDF form at bargain prices, with a portion of the revenue going to various charities. It's a great way to take a chance on a game or game line that interests you without having to blow a huge amount of money to do so. I've made use of it a few times myself and have never regretted it.

That's why I wanted to draw your attention to a new one that I think many readers will appreciate: Wulfwald. It's a low-fantasy, old school RPG inspired by Anglo-Saxon myths and legends. I bought a print copy of the game a couple of weeks ago and love it. I'm in the midst of writing a review for it, which I hope to have finished before I leave for Gamehole Con next week. However, the sale only runs until October 17 and I wanted to alert everyone to it now, in the event I don't complete that review before I depart.

For only $5.95, you get all five rulebooks in PDF form, along with an electronic black-and-white regional map of the game world drawn by the late, great Russ Nicholson. At that price, I think it's more than worth it and I highly recommend it to anyone fascinated by early medieval Britain.

A (Very) Partial Pictorial History of Trolls

It's well known that, in populating the bestiary of Dungeons & Dragons, Arneson and Gygax regularly looked beyond mythology and folklore for inspiration. Such is obviously the case with the troll, which borrows heavily from the monster's description in Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions right down to its green color and ability to regenerate. Unlike many of the other monsters we've looked at in this series, the troll's appearance is remarkably consistent during the TSR era of D&D. Despite the large number of artists who've drawn this horrid creature, nearly all of them seem to be using its initial appearance in 1977's Monster Manual as a guide.

In point of fact, the troll appears twice in the MM, both times drawn by Dave Sutherland. The first is on the cover:

Perhaps because it's likely the first time I ever saw a D&D troll, I've always been quite fond of this particular illustration of it. The interior of the book gives us this second depiction:

This second piece is unusual in that it depicts the same monster from two angles, like a model sheet. I can't think of any other monsters drawn this way in the Monster Manual. 

During the same year, Minifigs produced a figure of a troll that looks almost identical to that of Sutherland's illustration (unless the inspiration goes in the other direction). In any case, the troll's primary physical characteristics seem to be its tall, lanky body; tooth-filled mouth, long nose, black, deep-set eyes, and bristly black hair atop its elongated head. 

The next year, 1978, sees quite a large number of troll illustrations, starting with this one by Dave Trampier, which appeared in module G3, Hall of the Fire Giant King:

Though Tramp's style is quite different from Sutherland's, his trolls nevertheless look identical. Speaking of Sutherland, here's another one by him, this time from module D1, Descent into the Depths of the Earth, about which I've posted before, because it's a favorite of mine.

What a terrific piece! Not only is it a great battle scene, featuring men in historical armor fighting a band of trolls, it also includes possibly the only depiction of the severed body parts of a troll fighting independently. It's such a signature element of the monster that I'm surprised there are no other such depictions (you'll tell me if I'm wrong in the comments).

Tramp returns for this fun illustration from the Players Handbook:

1980 brings us more trolls, starting with a Grenadier Models miniature that looks very much like the Sutherland original:

Then there's this one by Jeff Dee, appearing in the Arthurian Heroes section of Deities & Demigods: 

1981's Fiend Folio introduces us to several new troll variants. Though they are different sub-species, you can still see a "family resemblance," starting with this giant troll by Russ Nicholson:

Then there's the giant, two-headed troll, another illustration by Dee:

At the dawn of the Second Edition era, Jim Holloway provides this image of a troll for the Monstrous Compendium. Despite its small alterations to the template late down in 1977, this is still very recognizable as the same creature Sutherland originally drew.

Finally, there's Tony DiTerlizzi's take from the Monstrous Manual, which is – again – just a variation on Sutherland's. There's a reason why I continue to argue that Dave Sutherland is perhaps the single most important and influential artist in the game's history. 

So, what have I missed? Are there any notably different takes on trolls during the TSR era? Or do they all follow in Sutherland's footsteps as these do?

RIP Russ Nicholson

Russ Nicholson, the artist whose illustrations contributed greatly to the overall vibe of the Fiend Folio, has died. News of his death began to circulate earlier today and, while precise details are still sketchy, I am nevertheless greatly saddened. 

Nicholson's art is incomparable. The interplay of darkness and light, combined with a remarkable level of detail, set it apart from the work of anyone else in the field of fantasy and science fiction illustration. I had the good fortune to correspond with Russ on several occasions and he was always generous with his time and talents – a gentleman and a true professional. 

Over the next few days, I suspect we'll see plenty of heartfelt tributes to Nicholson's life and artwork and rightly so. We'll also see posts praising favorite examples from his immense body of work, many of which contributed immeasurably to the distinctive esthetic of "British fantasy" as exemplified by White Dwarf, Fighting Fantasy, and Warhammer, among many others.

I'd have a hard time choosing a single Nicholson illustration as my favorite, because he created so many wonderful works. That said, I have a personal fondness for the illustration below, which I commissioned for my Thousand Suns science fiction RPG years ago. Now that Russ is no longer with us, my attachment to it has only grown. 

Rest in peace, Mr Nicholson!

I Slay, and Am Content

A mighty-thewed barbarian, courtesy of the incomparable Russ Nicholson (White Dwarf #49). 

White Dwarf: Issue #32

Issue #32 of White Dwarf (August 1982) is both the very first monthly issue of the magazine and the first issue I ever owned. I bought it while traveling with my family a couple of months before my thirteenth birthday. I'd heard of White Dwarf, of course, and might even have seen a copy or two in the possession of the older roleplayers I knew, but I can't recall ever reading an issue cover to cover before this one. Consequently, reaching this issue in this series represents an important milestone: the point where my knowledge of the issues I'm discussing is founded on past experience.

This issue had a lasting effect on my imagination, in part because of its outstanding cover by Jim Burns. I really taken with its depiction of retro-futuristic prop fighter planes, not to mention the two downed airmen facing off against an alien tiger-thing. I can't imagine how much time I spent staring at this cover, picking out details and trying to figure out a way to work a scenario like this into one of my games (which I finally did in a Traveller campaign set on a TL5 world).  

The issue begins with an odd article that nevertheless fascinated me at the time. Entitled "Lore of the Ring" by Stephen Bland, it provides D&D stats for Tolkien's rings of power, as well as the Nâzgul and their winged steeds. Needless to say, it's all a bit silly, inasmuch as I can't really see any circumstance where a D&D referee would seriously consider including even one of the lesser rings in his campaign. On the other hand, the Nâzgul are undeniably cool, especially when accompanied by one of Russ Nicholson's illustrations. I never made use any Nâzgul either, but, believe me, I was tempted ...

Next up is "STL: Slower-Than-Light Ships in Traveller" by Marcus Rowland. I loved this article, too, which includes an overview of the topic, rules expansions for use with the Traveller starship construction rules, sample STL ships, and several patron encounters. It's very well done and succeeded in piquing my youthful interest in ramships and lightjammers. Also related to Traveller is "Striker: Design of Civilian Vehicles for Traveller" by Bob McWilliams. The author talks briefly about the vehicle design system of Striker and how complex they are (an understatement). He then presents a vehicle design of his own – a gravcar – and kicks off a design competition, in which he asks readers to submit their own Striker designs. How I wanted to participate in this contest! Unfortunately, I never saw a copy of the rules until many years later, so this dream was unattainable.

Paul Vernon's "The Town Planner" continues with another installment, "Designing Towns and Cities." He focuses on several related topics, such as background, topography, population, and denizens, all of which Vernon then uses to offer advice on drawing and keying a map of the place. It's good stuff; I loved this as a kid. My only complaint is that it's too short and could easily have occupied many more pages. "A World of Your Own" is a short article by none other than Ken St. Andre, in which he, in between snarking about Dungeons & Dragons, counsels readers to make Tunnels & Trolls their own by changing it in any way that suits them. I find it hard to argue with him, but then I largely feel the same about any RPG.

"Open Box" offers just four reviews this month, starting with Call of Cthulhu by Chaosium. The reviewer is effusive in his praise and gives it a 9 out of 10. Bushido and its only published adventure, Valley of the Mists, meanwhile both receive perfect scores. I admire Bushido as much as the next guy, but is it really a better game than Call of Cthulhu? Finally, there's the Mattel D&D electronic game, which receives a 4 out of 10. I have a strange fondness for this game born out of fond memories, but even I have to admit that, objectively speaking, it's not a very good game, even by the primitive standards of electronic games in the early 1980s.

"Chaos from Mount Dorren" by Phil Masters is a fun little AD&D "mini-scenario" of the type that White Dwarf so frequently published. The characters come across a prosperous little town whose caravans are being attacked by unknown assailants. The town's rulers offer a reward to anyone who can get to the bottom of this. The basic scenario is a well-worn one but Masters offers enough twists and turns that it still feels fresh. "Rune Rites" provides game stats for a monster (the cyclops) and Griselda, one of the signature characters in Oliver Dickinson's delightful Pavis stories from previous issues. 

"Fiend Factory" focuses this time on "Little Things" by providing statistics for five small monsters for use with D&D. Because I have a soft spot for low-level monsters, I've always liked this article. I'm particularly fond of the wyrmlets – weird disc-shaped monsters with arms and legs that can combine to form a more powerful wyrmling with powers commensurate with the number of wyrmlets that join together. The issue ends with "Drug Use and Abuse in D&D," which, I must confess, never did much for me. Author Graeme Davis provides some basic rules for addiction, along with several examples of fantasy narcotics. I have little doubt this might be useful in some campaigns, but I never made use of them in my own.

And there we have it: the first issue of White Dwarf I ever owned. Re-reading it for this post, I think it holds up quite well, being a good mix of authors and topics. This was the issue that kept me on the look-out for additional issues in the months to come. I'm glad to see that, unlike some things I once adored as a younger person, this one still holds up decades later.

White Dwarf: Issue #16

Issue #16 of White Dwarf (December/January 1979/1980) features a remarkable cover by Les Edwards. Edwards did a lot of cover illustrations for Games Workshop over the years, as well as providing them for the Fighting Fantasy series. That's probably why this issue gives off such powerful vibes for me, even though I never owned it at the time of its original release. It also helps that the issue's contents are excellent, as I'll discuss presently.

"Chronicle Monsters" by Lewis Pulsipher is a collection of monsters for D&D derived from Stephen Donaldson's "Chronicles of Thomas Covenant" series. The accompanying illustrations are by Russ Nicholson, which is always a treat. Part IV of Andy Slack's "Expanding Universe" for Traveller focuses on social standing and psionics. "Boot Hill Encounters" by Dominic Beddow is, as its title suggests, a collection of random encounters for use with TSR's Boot Hill or other Wild West RPGs. I was surprised to see this article, short though it is, simply because, even in the United States, Western-themed RPGs have always been an acquired taste at best. I can't imagine the genre is any more popular in Britain, but perhaps this simply shows my ignorance.

"Open Box" reviews four products, starting with Boot Hill, which scores 8 out of 10. Also reviewed are GDW's Imperium (9 out of 10) and Snapshot (8 out of 10). The final review – by Don Turnbull – is the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide. Turnbull's review is, of course, effusive, so much so in fact that he offers no numerical score for the book. Instead, he says the following:

In the end, set the task of reviewing something to which I know I cannot do justice, all I can say is – can you afford to be without it?

I say again: it's little wonder to me that Turnbull would eventually be selected to head up TSR UK.

"Paths of the Lil" is a Gamma World adventure by James Ward. This is a scenario that's appeared in various forms over the years, including the second edition of the game published in 1983. Meanwhile, "The Fiend Factory" offers up five more monsters for use with Dungeons & Dragons. "Treasure Chest" presents seventeen new potions, a few of which are quite fun. Consider, for example, the potion of truth:

Mind you, I'm a fan of cursed items and think they ought to be used more often in games, so your mileage may vary. 

Finishing out the issue is a brief report on Games Day V, which took place in October 1979. Accompanying the article are a number of photographs, some of which are quite charming, like this one:

All in all, I found issue #16 very enjoyable. As I mentioned at the start of this post, it looked and felt very much like the issues I would buy and devour several years hence. I'll be very curious to see if this one represents a turning point in the magazine's history and that the things I recognize here, like the cover and interior artwork, will become permanent features or if there will still be a few more bumps in the road.

White Dwarf: Issue #12

Issue #12 of White Dwarf (April/May 1979) features a cover by Eddie Jones, who had previously done the cover for issue #10. According to Ian Livingstone's editorial, Jones was the favorite cover artist in the poll he commissioned in the previous issue. For myself, I am regularly struck by how commonly 1970s fantasy art include spaceships and other elements we might today consider science fictional. It's a reminder of just how fluid those two categories were once upon a time. 

Livingstone also comments on a couple of other interesting topics. First, he notes that, thanks to the increase in its readership, White Dwarf is expanding to 32 pages from 28. By my lights, though, it doesn't seem as if those extra four pages are being used for content but rather for more advertising. Second, and relatedly, he notes that "the hobby industry" is not "mass market" and its prices will be accordingly higher. Livingstone then takes aim at "photocopier fanatics" who make copies of rules or magazines rather than buying them. He encourages his readers to give such miscreants "a bad time" and to support game companies by buying their properly printed products. 

"The Fiend Factory" presents eight more monsters for use with Dungeons & Dragons. Five of these are creatures I recall from the Fiend Folio, including the githyanki. Notable too is the fact that many feature illustrations by the inimitable Russ Nichsolson. Indeed, some of the illustrations look identical to those that would later appear in the Fiend Folio itself, though it's possible that my aged memory is simply playing tricks on me again. Lew Pulsipher's "Useful Dungeon Equipment" is a short article presenting a collection of pieces of specialized equipment he feels would be of use in dungeon exploration, such as a crowbar, an eyepatch, and noseplugs. I remember reading many articles like this over the years and have a strange fondness for them. They reflect, I think, a real culture of play, in which players regularly came up with inventive solutions to equally inventive obstacles created by referees. Articles like this speak to D&D "as she was played" back in the day and they're every bit as important to understanding the history of the hobby as the ins and outs of designers and companies.

"Open Box" presents five reviews, only two of which are of products with which I am familiar. The unfamiliar products are FGU's Rapier & Dagger (rated 6), Conflict Interaction Associates' Pellic Quest (rated 7), and Gametime Games's Spellmaker (rated 6). The last review is interesting, because the game's creator, Eric Solomon, is given a small space in which to reply to the review's criticisms. The two familiar reviews treat Chaosium's All the World's Monsters (rated 5) and The Arduin Grimoire, Volumes I, II, and III (rated 4). The review of the Arduin books ends with the following comment:

All this issue's reviews are by Don Turnbull, who, in my estimation, tends to be quite harsh in his judgments on non-TSR products. As I've commented before, I can't help but wonder if the combination of his obvious industry – he is one of early White Dwarf's workhorses – and his largely uncritical promotion of TSR played a role in his being made head of TSR UK in 1980.

"Pool of the Standing Stones" by Bill Howard is a "mini-dungeon" for 5th and 6th-level characters. Like so many dungeons of the past, it's an odd mixture of elements. There's a druid who's interested in maintaining the balance between Law and Chaos, bandits, martial artists, mad scientists, and more. There are a few genuinely imaginative elements, like the talking entrance doors, but it's mostly a bizarre mishmash that, while not bad, is still far from good. The best I can say is that it's certainly no worse than many dungeons I created in my youth, though that's very faint praise indeed. 

Part five of Rowland Flynn's "Valley of the Four Winds" appears in this issue, though, as with the previous installments, I can't say much about it, as I lost interest in it several issues ago. "Treasure Chest" offers up a large number of new magic items, a few of which are decent, if not necessarily inspired. Brian Asbury also offers some modifications to the barbarian class that appeared in issue #4, in light of the publication of the Players Handbook. On that very front, Don Turnbull's "A Dip into the Players Handbook" is a two-page examination of certain aspects of the AD&D Players Handbook from the perspective of its innovations over OD&D. I found the article strangely enjoyable. It's a piece of history and provides some insight on how the piecemeal publication of AD&D was received by the existing players of D&D. Turnbull, as one might expect, is a fan of most AD&D's changes, but, even so, his comments are useful bits of data for anyone with an interest in the hobby's history.

Retrospective: Fiend Folio

Resting on a shelf atop my desk are, among other things, my Advanced Dungeons & Dragons hardcover book collection. Most of them are about forty years old or close to it and it's obvious they've all been well loved. Their covers are faded and scuffed at the corners and their interiors reveal their age through a collection of small stains scattered across their once-white pages. I say "most," because there's one volume that looks almost brand new, despite the march of the years: the "tome of creatures malevolent and benign," the Fiend Folio. There's a reason the book appears nearly pristine and it has nothing to do with the high quality for which TSR's first edition AD&D books were made: I didn't think much of the Fiend Folio and, therefore, almost never used it.

I realize that, in some quarters, that's a controversial, verging on blasphemous, opinion. There is a contingent of old schoolers for whom the Fiend Folio is the best monster book published for AD&D – alas, not for me. I owned it more out of completeness than any enthusiasm. I adored the Monster Manual, which was my first AD&D hardcover, ordered at a Sears catalog store with money given to me for Christmas by my grandmother. I still cherish that book to this day, a fond possession from my youth, portions of whose text I can quote from memory, so often did I read it in those early days. The Fiend Folio, though? I've barely cracked the spine.

I used to think, when the matter of the Fiend Folio came up in conversation, that my dislike of it was based on a failure to appreciate the book's idiosyncratic Britishness. The tome quite clearly evinces a different sensibility from its rather staid American predecessor, most notably in its illustrations. Though the volume contains artwork by TSR stalwarts like Jeff Dee, Erol Otus, and Dave Sutherland, their familiar visuals were buried beneath an avalanche of pieces by Alan Hunter, Albie Fiore, Russ Nicholson, and others, none of which looked much like what I'd seen in the Monster Manual. There was a gloomy, gritty quality to the illustrations that shocked and repulsed me at the time. This wasn't what Dungeons & Dragons was supposed to look like and I found it hard to accept. 

But it wasn't (just) the artwork that turned me against the Fiend Folio; it was the content. Compared to the Monster Manual, most of the creatures in this book are, at best, weird and strangely specific and, at worst, downright silly. Again, I recognize that many see this as precisely why they like the Fiend Folio. I can see that, but, for me, monsters like the Enveloper, the Flail Snail, and the Gorbel, to cite a few obvious ones, are simply goofy and I can't think of any circumstance in which I'd use them. And they're not alone. I could easily go through the book, page after page, and point out all the monsters that strike me as too ridiculous (lava children), overpowered (death knight), or bizarre (trilloch) for my tastes. The whole thing has a rough, unfinished, and fannish quality to it – filled with the kinds of monsters overly enthusiastic but not very creative kids would come up with for their homebrew adventures. I realize that's an unduly harsh judgment, but it's how I felt at the time.

In the years since, my opinion of the Fiend Folio has softened a bit, in particular with regards to the art, some of which I now consider among the best ever done for AD&D. Russ Nicholson, for example, is now a favorite of mine and I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I once didn't much care for his illustrations. Likewise, I've come to accept that there's a place for some of these monsters, if only as occasional palate cleansers. However, except for those that had appeared previously in published adventures (like the drow or the bullywugs), there aren't any that I feel fill an obvious gap in AD&D's roster of monstrous opponents. The Fiend Folio should, therefore, be treated as a book of options to be used with care rather than as a regular supplement to the Monster Manual (or Monster Manual II, which I consider a much better book, despite its flaws). Viewed in this fashion, I think of it much more kindly.

But before I forget, it must be said: the githyanki are overrated. Ugh.

Ghouls About Town

The ever-amazing Russ Nicholson just completed a piece of artwork for Dwimmermount, depicting two ghouls -- technically, ghasts -- from the colony of them that infests levels 2A and 3A of the dungeon. Unsurprisingly, he did a superb job and I look forward to seeing what else he creates for me in the weeks to come.

©2012 Russ Nicholson