OSRCon Bound

I'm off to OSRCon shortly, where I'll be running several intrepid players through the first level of Dwimmermount. Wish me luck!

I'll have photos and commentary about the con after it's all over and I've had the chance to recuperate, probably sometime Sunday or Monday.

Gary Gygax Bio Pic?

This article, over at the ever-reliable Examiner.com, claims that "a $150 million movie based on Gary Gygax’s life" is in the works and that a "huge star is playing Gary." George Strayton, formerly of West End Games, and the writer of several episodes of Xena: Warrior Princess and the Dragonlance cartoon is tagged as the screenwriter for this project, which tells "the story of how Gary created Dungeons & Dragons, switching between his real life and the fantasy realm of Dungeons & Dragons." Elsewhere, it's described as a "combination action movie and bio pic."

Maybe I've just gotten terribly cynical in my old age, but I have a hard time believing that this project will ever come to fruition. Maybe $150 million dollars is beer money in Hollywood these days, but that seems an awfully big budget for a film of this kind. And a "huge star" in the title role? Again, that sounds incredibly implausible to me, but what do I know? I'd frankly be amazed if any studio thought that the life of Gary Gygax had enough mass appeal to be made into a movie, let alone one with a big budget and a huge star.

I guess we'll see if anything ever comes of this or if it's just another pipe dream.

The Ads of Dragon: Heroes

Issue #86 (June 1984) saw this ad appear in the pages of Dragon:

As you can see, Heroes was Avalon Hill's roleplaying magazine, supporting the four RPGs the company published at the time: James Bond 007, Lord of Creation, Powers & Perils, and RuneQuest. Since I didn't regularly play most of those games -- James Bond was the exception -- I never actually checked out Heroes, though I did see it in many game and hobby stores, probably because Avalon Hill was a local company. I kind of regret that now, not least because Tom Moldvay apparently wrote a number of articles for Lords of Creation that appeared in Heroes and I'm rather curious to read them.

Ah well.

Preparing for the Con

As I'm sure many of you are well aware by now, this Friday and Saturday I'll be attending OSRCon here in Toronto, where I'll be running two sessions of my Dwimmermount megadungeon, as well as participating in a panel discussion and playing in a Forgotten Realms adventure refereed by Ed Greenwood. Though I'll admit to some degree of "stage fright" at the prospect of refereeing for a bunch of total strangers, I'm also really looking forward to these two days. This is the first time a gathering of this kind has happened in the city and, with luck, it'll become a tradition we repeat every summer for many years to come. Plus, it'll be a good opportunity to make contact with other fans of old school games locally.

Now, as I've noted before, I'm not a regular con goer, let alone experienced in the ways of con refereeing. Victor Raymond gave me some excellent advice in our lengthy conversation yesterday, but I'd still love to hear any additional advice anyone can offer me. So, if you're someone who's ever refereed an event at a convention, especially a dungeoncrawl-style adventure, share your words of wisdom with me, please. Any insights, thoughts, or warnings you can offer me would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks!

Retrospective: Descent into the Depths of the Earth

One of the most obvious ways that the hobby has changed from its early days can be seen in the concept of adventure modules. Nowadays, we're prone to expect large and detailed products, replete with maps, fully fleshed-out NPCs, and a coherent plot made up of "scenes" that lead toward some kind of clear climax. Back in 1978, when TSR released Gary Gygax's Descent into the Depths of the Earth, such expectations, if they existed at all, weren't the norm. Then, an adventure module generally provided a locale, whether a "dungeon" or a wilderness, and its inhabitants that the referee could flesh out in play. There may or may not be any broader context for this locale, but, regardless, the module's focus was on that locale and its inhabitants rather than on anything approaching dramatic coherence.

In the case of module D1, the immediate context is as a sequel to modules G1, G2, and G3 -- later compiled as G1-3, Against the Giants -- in which the player characters enter and sack the strongholds of three different giant leaders who have, for reasons unknown, been coordinating their attacks against human lands. The PCs discover that this coordination is at the behest of the drow, a nation of evil subterranean elves, who leave behind a map leading to their city. If the characters choose to use this map, Descent into the Depths of the Earth provides the referee with an underground "wilderness" map and some keyed locations, along with random encounter tables, to simulate their explorations.

Unlike the giants modules, where the PCs have been ordered, under pain of punishment, to investigate their titular locales, there is no such compulsion in module D1. The choice to move forward or not is entirely left up to the PCs, as is the course of their travels. For that reason, the referee needs to be prepared to make use of the many random encounter tables included to flesh out the underworld. There are several well described encounter areas in D1, but the vast majority of them are presented simply without much exposition -- once again demanding significant improvisation by the referee to use effectively. That's not a criticism as such, but, looking back on this module, I was surprised to see just how little information it straightforwardly includes.

When I was a younger man, I would have ranked Descent into the Depths of the Earth as one of my favorite AD&D adventures. I had a lot of fun using it in days of yore and there are a number of set pieces it includes, such as the lich Asberdies, who has cast over 600 magic mouths in his cavernous lair, that I still recall having a lot of fun with. Of course, back then, I readily accepted that a module couldn't really be used "out of the box" and that no self-respecting referee would expect such a thing in any case. It's a perspective that I've only, in the last few years, come to embrace again, believing that, sometimes, less is more.

That said, I'm not sure that, even given that, module D1 is one of Gygax's better works, certainly in comparison to, say,  Shrine of the Kuo-Toa, let alone Vault of the Drow, both of which retain the open-ended "sandboxy" feel of D1 while, at the same time, providing more structure on which the referee can hang his own creations. The whole module feels very much like an introduction to the subterranean wilderness of the drow, a kind of primer of what's to come. That might explain why it was later combined with module D2 in 1981. Together, I think they complement each other nicely, which is a topic I'll return to next week in my retrospective of D2.

Your Own Private Tékumel

Near the beginning of the first volume of Swords & Glory, there's a section that details the history of the world of Tékumel. In that section, you'll find the following:

Thus it remained until the Time of Darkness. No records exist of this catastrophic age. The few fragments of folk memory which do exist lament in mythic terms of a time when the hills rose up, the seas walked the land, flame spouted from the brazen mouths of the mountains, and the stars went out forever. This last is most significant: it must be assumed that Tékumel and its solar system fell -- or were thrust -- through a warp in the fabric of space-time itself, a "hole in the sky," into a pocket dimension in which no other matter existed. The reasons for this terrible calamity can only be guessed: natural forces, stresses created by the incessant use of the Three-Light Drive, the actions of a hostile race, interference from mighty interdimensional beings far beyond man and his allies on the evolutionary scale, the vengeance of God upon His arrogant and overweening Creation -- ? No one knows. It may only be noted in passing that this same fate befell 772 other worlds of Humanspace within a century after the disappearance of Tékumel and its system.

Take careful note of the last sentence I quoted. According to Professor Barker, 772 worlds besides Tékumel were plucked out of normal space and found themselves inside empty pocket dimensions, dimensions that we know, from other sources, have the same physical and metaphysical laws as Tékumel, such as the weakening of the "skin" of reality to such a degree that both magic and interaction with interdimensional beings (commonly called "gods" and "demons") are possible. What are these other worlds like?

I spent several hours chatting with Victor Raymond today and this topic was one of several that took up a goodly portion of our conversation. We both agreed that it might be an interesting exercise to imagine another what colony world of Humanspace would be like after tens of thousands of years of isolation. Such a world might have some commonalities with Tékumel -- the presence of certain alien races, for example -- but it might not, indeed probably would not have others, such as the lack of riding animals or large quantities of workable metals. Done right, the world might have a similar feel to Tékumel, but would be largely its own thing.

One of the knocks against Tékumel is that it's too intensely personal a creation for anyone but Professor Barker to enter into it. I'm thoroughly convinced that's untrue, but it's a common enough rap that it's attained a wide currency and many gamers are afraid to give Tékumel a whirl. So, I began to wonder what might happen if a referee took the basic principles behind Barker's setting and applied them a new planet. Would it seem less intimidating? I have no idea, but I'm going to continue to think about this over the coming weeks, corresponding and chatting with Victor to see where it leads us. If nothing else, it'll be a fun and imaginative diversion.

The Ads of Dragon: Middle Earth Role Playing

In my younger days, I was largely limited to buying RPGs that I saw on game store shelves. I knew I could use mail order to get games I never saw locally, but I never did so -- never did so, that is, until I saw this ad in issue #85 (May 1984):

Back then, I liked to think of myself as an admirer of Middle-earth, but, in truth, I had only the most superficial appreciation of Tolkien's works. So, when I saw this advertisement, showing a dwarf, a pair of hobbits, and two Men (unless the woman is actually an elf -- it's hard to say for sure) looting some forgotten tomb of its riches, I knew I wanted to buy this game. Middle Earth Role Playing was the first RPG I ever ordered through the mail and my friends and I had a lot of fun with it, even if the adventures we played out would likely have horrified Tolkien.

Every now and again, I find myself wishing I still had my copy of this game, but it disappeared long ago. On eBay, most of the copies on offer are later versions with the Angus McBride artwork, which I've never much liked -- heresy, I know!

Brief Gaming Thoughts on Re-Reading The Lord of the Rings

I've previously mentioned that I'm reading The Lord of the Rings aloud to my daughter, which has proven a very eye-opening experience. Doing so has occasioned two gaming-related thoughts in me, one of broader interest and one with regard to my own Dwimmermount campaign.

I'll start with the more specific one first. Right now, in our reading, we're at the point where the Company has entered Moria and are attempting to find their way out. Moria's frankly an amazing creation -- a vast mountain fortress fallen into ruin and now home to numerous fell monsters. Reading it I found myself realizing just how much Moria must have unconsciously influenced my conception of my Dwimmermount megadungeon. I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise. Moria's one of the better examples of something approximating a megadungeon in fantasy literature and I doubt there are very many old school gamers who aren't familiar with it. Still, when I began my campaign, I made an effort to keep it as Tolkien-free as possible. Looks like I failed.

That brings me to my broader thought. One of the "themes," if you will, of a goodly percentage of the old school renaissance is the embracing of early pulp fantasy and the downplaying, if not rejection, of both later fantasy more generally and Tolkien in particular. I still think immersing oneself in the books and authors of earlier eras is an important part of understanding where D&D came from. It's also a useful corrective to the popular notion that D&D is a game about playing "heroes" on an "epic quest." But I have to admit that, in recent days, I've started to fall in love again with Middle-earth and that's made me reconsider the hard line I've taken against including certain Tolkien-derived elements in my Dwimmermount campaign.

It'll be interesting to see what, if any, effect this has on the campaign as it further evolves through play.

REVIEW: Polychrome

Speaking as someone who's written his own science fiction RPG (and is in the midst of revising its rulebook), Stars Without Number fills me with a certain degree of envy. Not only is it an excellent example of old school design principles applied to a contemporary game, it's one that consistently makes me sit up and say, "I wish I'd thought of that." A good example of what I mean is the expansiveness of its skeletal default setting, which enables the referee to create whatever worlds, organizations, interstellar governments, and alien races he wishes and nevertheless tie them easily into the background presented in the rulebook. The 40-page supplement Polychrome takes this to another level by demonstrating the ability of Stars Without Number (hereafter SWN) to function as a multi-genre science fiction RPG with similar ease.

Polychrome takes its name from "a world of steel and stain" whose atmosphere is corrupted by an alien biotoxin ruled by "cold-blooded corporate officials [who] control access to vital cybernetic medical tech." In this way, Polychrome pulls double duty, serving as both a gazetteer of a single planet to insert into an ongoing SWN campaign and as a cyberpunk sourcebook for the game. Once again, I found myself wishing I'd thought of this. What author Kevin Crawford has done here may not be revolutionary, but it's amazingly economical, enabling him to provide a surprising amount of both rules and setting material in a short span of pages. In doing so, he's expanded the utility of SWN, showing that the game need not be limited to exploration in an interstellar sandbox but can handle classic chrome-and-mirrorshades cyberpunk adventures, too.

Polychrome begins with an overview of the eponymous planet, including its history and society. There are also overviews of important NPCs, locations, and megacorporations. All of these overviews are succinct and heavily focused on providing information useful for creating and running adventures. That's not to say all the information is immediately, let alone solely, practical, but very little of it is presented for its own sake. As if to emphasize this point, the supplement also includes straightforward and practical advice on how to create adventures on Polychrome, using a combination of seeds and random complications to illustrate the process. Complementing this section are additional sections presenting simple rules for investigations and hacking -- two central elements of cyberpunk adventures. Also present are rules handling psionics on Polychrome and cybernetic devices not found in the SWN rulebook.

Polychrome includes an adventure as well. Entitled "Bad Blood," it's intended to introduce offworld characters to the world of Polychrome and its unusual society and culture by involving them in a revenge plot by a young woman whose brother has run afoul of internecine battles between planetary factions. "Bad Blood" takes up 8 pages of the supplement and, while I am always glad to see adventures included in gaming supplements, I must confess that these 8 pages were by far the weakest in Polychrome. That's admittedly not saying a great deal, given how much I liked the rest of the book, but I couldn't help but feel that the supplement would have been better served by additional random tables for creating one's own adventures and NPCs. On the other hand, "Bad Blood" does provide plenty of concepts, situations, and statted out allies and antagonists that, even if a referee has no use for it as presented, it can still be used as an idea mine.

Polychrome is available either as PDF for $4.99 or a printed book + PDF for $9.99. Like previous supplements for SWN, its layout is unadorned and easy to read, broken up by occasional bits of what appears to be science fiction clip art. Polychrome isn't going to win any awards for its appearance, but it's its content that is the real draw here anyway. On that front, I have no significant complaints. Polychrome fills in some important gaps in the rules of Stars Without Number, like hacking, that are essential if you want to run classic cyberpunk adventures. Like all of SWN's rules, they're simple and easy to understand, emphasizing once again how few rules really are needed for any kind of RPG to be playable, provided the referee and players are imaginative and trusting.

Polychrome isn't going to set the hobby on fire, but I can't help but think it'd be great if more roleplaying games adopted its approach to both rules expansion and setting design. Like its predecessor, Skyward Steel, hits that sweet spot for me between too much and too little detail, inspiring without doing all the work for me. Polychrome definitely shows off the best of what old school design has to offer and I'd be very happy to see other designers follow in its footsteps.

Presentation: 6 out of 10
Creativity: 8 out of 10
Utility: 7 out of 10

Buy This If: You're playing Stars Without Number or another old school SF RPG and want to add some cyberpunk elements to your campaign.
Don't Buy This If: You have no interest in cyberpunk.

Pulp Fantasy Library: Thunder in the Dawn

Assuming the name "Henry Kuttner" occasions any recognition whatsoever, it's likely in relation to his wife, C.L. Moore, who created such memorable pulp fantasy characters as Jirel of Joiry and Northwest Smith. Of course, it's also possible one might recognize Kuttner's name from his stories inspired by the work of H.P. Lovecraft, though these are not as well known, let alone read, as the Mythos tales of some of his contemporaries. It's far less likely that one knows Kuttner for his sword-and-sorcery tales set in a pre-sunken Atlantis, four of which appeared in Weird Tales between 1938 and 1940.

The first of these stories is a novella called "Thunder in the Dawn," which was long enough to split into two parts and published in the May and June 1938 issues. This story introduces us to the swordsman Elak and his sidekick Lycon. Not long after he appears in a tavern in the seaside city of Poseidonia, an assassin sets upon Elak, using both magic and blade in his task. Elak escapes death because of the unexpected arrival of yet another man, a druid by the name of Dalan, whose own command of fire magic defeats the assassin. Together, they interrogate the would-be killer and learn that he was sent by a warlock (unimaginatively) named Elf.

Lycon, like the reader, is left confused by this turn of events. Why does Elf wish to slay Elak?

Elak shook his head. "Tell him, Dalan."

"Cyrena? The northernmost kingdom of Atlantis?" Lycon asked. "I know Orander rules it, but that's all."

"A dozen years ago Norian ruled Cyrena," the Druid said. "He had two stepsons, Orander and Zeulas. Zeulas killed him."

Elak moved uneasily.

"Zeulas killed him," Dalan repeated, "in a fair fight, and both men had provocation. Because of this Zeulas, though he was the elder, did not assume the crown. He left Cyrena to wander, a homeless vagabond, through Atlantis."

Lycon turned to stare at Elak. "By Ishtar! You don't mean--"

"He is Zeulas," the Druid said. "His brother, Orander, rules in Cyrena. Or -- did rule."

With Elak's true identity revealed, the trio set off on a quest to save Orander and defeat the warlock Elf. Along the way, they are joined by Lady Velia, Elak's one-time lover whom they free from her abusive husband. There are giant spiders, humanoid monsters, elementals, and more. The result is something that feels remarkably like a D&D adventure. There are even frequent references to the Nine Hells and the fiendish entities that dwell there.

"Thunder in the Dawn" is a quick, fun read, but, beyond escapism, it lacks much in the way of lasting value. Compared to, say, many of Howard's Conan yarns, it's amazingly shallow and "fluffy." Indeed, there are times when it feels like an attempt at a pastiche of Howard, with its evocation of a pseudo-historical past age and its appropriation of names of real-world places and cultures (the Vikings and the Picts) to lend verisimilitude to its narrative. Kuttner isn't much of a stylist either; his descriptions are often cursory and his plotting simple. However, his dialog can be quite effective, especially in its use of humor and irony. He's no Clark Ashton Smith or Jack Vance, but I think he is superior to Howard in this regard. It's largely for this reason that I found myself enjoying "Thunder in the Dawn" despite its many inadequacies. There were even times when I was reminded of Fritz Leiber in the interactions between Elak and Lycon -- and that's never a bad thing.