Retrospective: Horror on the Hill

Transitional periods in history are of particular interest to me, as one order slowly fades away and another arises to replace it. In the history of Dungeons & Dragons, one such transitional period is what I've called the Electrum Age, between 1981 and 1985, during which the game, the culture that surrounded it, and the company that produced all underwent some pretty radical changes. Released right smack in the middle of this putative Electrum Age was 1983's Horror on the Hill, written by Douglas Niles. The module is intended to be an introductory adventure à la Keep on the Borderlands, but it differs enough from its illustrious predecessor that I think it worth discussing in its own right.

The basic set-up of Horror on the Hill is familiar enough: a party of low-level adventurers comes to Guido's Fort, a lonely bastion of civilization not far from the eponymous Hill, in which dwell numerous monsters and, it is said, an evil witch. That's remarkably similar to the situation presented in Keep on the Borderlands, so much so that I used to be baffled as to why TSR bothered to publish this module at all. What did it offer that Gygax had not already provided in module B2?

I have no way of knowing what the good folks at TSR had in mind when they published this, but, as an outsider, a couple of things stand out about Horror on the Hill. First and foremost, it's new. That may not seem like much, but it is. I often here old schoolers complain when an OSR publisher releases "yet another version of Keep on the Borderlands." I've come to realize that such complaints miss an important point, namely, that there are always new campaigns starting and many of those campaigns will include people who've played B2 numerous times. After a while, referees need something different, even if only slightly, with which to kick things off. That's why I can no longer find fault in an introductory module simply because it follows the basic outline of Keep on the Borderlands and then goes its own way.

The second reason TSR likely released this module was to experiment with its new presentation. Horror on the Hill has slightly updated trade dress (new D&D and TSR logos, for example), more art, and uses a lot of boxed text to aid the novice referee. None of these elements is, in itself, without precedent; you can find other modules that also possess them to varying degrees. But, as a transitional module, they're notable as signposts for what TSR had in store for the D&D game line. Speaking for myself, I really like both the cover art (by the late Jim Roslof) and the interior art by Jim Holloway, both of which evince a strain of fantastic realism that I find much more congenial nowadays than that of other artists of the same period.

The final thing I'd say about Horror on the Hill is that it's a lot more cohesive than Keep on the Borderlands. That is, there are fewer types of monsters in the Hill and their relationships are elaborated upon much more than what we see in the Caves of Chaos. (Paradoxically, Guido's Fort is not given any detail at all -- not even a map -- unlike the Keep from B2). While this gives the Hill a stronger sense of "realism," perhaps even Gygaxian Naturalism, it also makes the place a lot less varied and thus less interesting to players, a great many of whom grow tired if they fight the same creatures over and over again for too long. On the other hand, the Hill does have a rather nifty "end boss" (I feel dirty typing those words) that compares more than favorably with the minotaur in B2.

I judge Horror on the Hill more favorably now than I did back in 1983, when I saw it as little more than a knock-off of Keep on the Borderlands. I think it is that, but I also think it's more than that. Whether its unique qualities are unique enough to appeal to any given referee or player is something only they can answer.

Imagine Magazine: Issue #3

One thing I've been enjoying about Imagine is its cover artwork, which, so far, as has been both attractive and distinctive. There's no mistaking Imagine for Dragon, that's for sure! (Which is no slight against Dragon, which also had some excellent covers over the course of the time during which I read it). My only complaint is that the credits page makes it difficult to determine who the cover artist is. I think this cover was done by Richard Clifton-Day, but I am far from certain of that. Does anyone know?

Issue #3 (June 1983) opens with an editorial that I find interesting.

A few people will, on occasion, complain about something they term 'censorship'. By this they mean that the publication does not carry the obvious references to sex and violence that appear in some other publications. We can assure them that no external body or individual holds censorial powers over the magazine; where we consciously alter or withhold anything, it is because we believe that is what most readers would prefer, if we were able to lay the choice before them. This is a hobby based on fun -- what purpose can there be in offending anybody?

It's an intriguing paragraph, not merely for what is say but what it claims to be responding to. What are these "some other publications" to which it refers and why did anyone, in 1983, think that Imagine was censoring itself? I can't help but think there is some aspect of the UK gaming scene at the time with which I'm not familiar and that might better explain this. Or was it simply a sense that TSR was already beginning to whitewash D&D and its corner of the hobby?

Jim Bambra and Paul Ruiz provide new installments of "The Beginners' Guide to Role Playing Games" and "The Adventures of Nic Novice." Neither is especially noteworthy, being, as you'd expect, discussions of very basic aspects of RPGs without much that'd be deemed insightful nowadays. Roger Musson's "Stirge Corner" elaborates on what it means that RPGs' rules are more open-ended and open to interpretation compared to other types of games. It's basically a primer on trusting the referee and being willing to accept his judgments in matters where the rules are vague or non-existent -- again: solid stuff but not exactly world-shaking.

On the other hand, Noel Williams tackles the thorny question of "Basic or Advanced?" This is a very fascinating article, since it deals head-on with the differences between the two different strains of Dungeons & Dragons. Ultimately, Williams concludes that

The DM in Advanced can add more detail (more monsters, more treasures) but not much in the way of rules or the system becomes unbalanced. On the other hand, because it is so well balanced, new contributions of detail are easy to make ...

With Basic, more is left to the DM. He has greater freedom but less guidance. There is less research for him to do and less to attend to in game, but additional work may be needed to make scenarios credible, and imagination is essential.

I'm not sure I'd have stated this the way that Williams does, but I think he's definitely on to something. While I've met my fair share of Basic rules lawyers and free-form AD&Ders, the general thrusts of the two games, as Gygax stated on more than a couple of occasions, comports with what Williams says above.

Peter Tamlyn's "Tavern Talk" continues to discuss the local gaming scene in the UK. Doug Cowie provides reviews of multiple D&D and AD&D modules (assisted by Jim Bambra and Ian J. Knight). These reviews are, on the whole, quite positive, if not necessarily effusive, so, clearly, at the beginning at least, Imagine didn't go out of its way to promote an independent editorial stance for its own sake. Mike Brunton provides an AD&D adventure called "A Box for the Margrave" for levels 4-7. We also get more official rules answers in "Dispel Confusion," Don Turnbull's editorial about "the Pub Game" about which Gygax often talked, and another "Rubic of Moggedon" comic.

Mike Costello's "The Imagination Machine" is an overview of computer gaming at the time. It's a short but thoughtful pieces that declares

In the end, the success of a computer game is not dependent on programming skill but the quality of the underlying design, and there are fewer good designers than good programmers.

How little has changed in the last three decades!

Dave Pringle reviews several books, including Robert Heinlein's Friday and Stephen R. Donaldson's White Gold Wielder. Dave Langford, whom I first encountered in White Dwarf's own book reviews, pens a fantasy short story called "Too Good to Be." There are also letters, fanzine notices, and another comic, part three of Ian Williamson's "The Sword of Alabron."

Issue #3 is a decent one, though it's clear that Imagine is still finding its feet. I continue to like its references to the hobby side of roleplaying and wish that many of its articles were longer. I've also noticed that there seem to be a great many more advertisements per issue than in Dragon, though it's possible that this is simply because ad space was cheaper. Regardless, I increasingly find myself regretting that I never knew about Imagine back in the day. So far it impresses me and it gives me a different window on what gaming on the other side of the Atlantic was like back in the early '80s.

Demon Mini Pics

Brett Zeleznik of Fractured Dimensions produces some excellent fantasy miniatures that draw on old school esthetics. I'm particularly impressed with his demon figures, perhaps because demons figure prominently in Dwimmermount. So, when Brett sent me photos of the greens for his upcoming Type III demon figure, I knew I'd like to share them.

Those look terrific, don't you think?

Pulp Fantasy Library: Pigeons from Hell

For his creation of Conan the Cimmerian alone -- never mind Kull of Atlantis, Bran Mak Morn, Solomon Kane, and many others -- Robert E. Howard enjoys a pride of place in the realm of pulp fantasy with which few can compare. Of course, there's an unfortunate flip side to the popularity of Conan and his brethren, namely, Howard's many one-off stories don't get nearly as much attention by contemporary readers. While that's understandable, it's also a pity, since REH wrote a number of excellent short stories that don't belong to any "series,"chief among them "Pigeons from Hell."

"Pigeons from Hell" was published posthumously, in the May 1938 issue of Weird Tales. Unlike so many of Howard's stories, this one is not set in the past, whether real or mythical, but in the present day. It's a horror tale that might well be called a "Southern Gothic" by some, a term that's not inappropriate in most respects. According to Howard, "Pigeons from Hell" had its genesis in a ghost story his grandmother used to tell him, suggesting that it had some basis in genuine folklore. Even if it didn't, it's a remarkably effective short story, one that many fans of REH consider among his finest.

The story begins with two travelers, Griswell and Branner, who, tired of having driven so long across country, decide to do what no one ought to do in a horror story -- spend the night in an abandoned house.

They were tired, sick of bumping and pounding all day over woodland roads. The old deserted house stimulated their imagination with its suggestion of antebellum splendor and ultimate decay. They left the automobile beside the rutty road, and as they went up the winding walk of crumbling bricks, almost lost in the tangle of rank growth, pigeons rose from the balustrades in a fluttering, feathery crowd and swept away with a low thunder of beating wings.

Some time after the pair settle down to sleep, Branner hears a strange, whistling noise coming from upstairs and decides to investigate. Worried, Griswell listens intently as his companion walks slowly up the stairs:

Griswell heard the stairs creaking under Branner's measured tread. Now he had reached the hallway
above, for Griswell heard the clump of his feet moving along it. Suddenly the footfalls halted, and the whole night seemed to hold its breath. Then an awful scream split the stillness, and Griswell started up, echoing the cry.

The strange paralysis that had held him was broken. He took a step toward the door, then checked himself. The footfalls were resumed. Branner was coming back. He was not running. The tread was even more deliberate and measured than before. Now the stairs began to creak again. A groping hand, moving along the balustrade, came into the bar of moonlight; then another, and a ghastly thrill went through Griswell as he saw that the other hand gripped a hatchet—a hatchet which dripped blackly. Was that Branner who was coming down that stair?

Yes! The figure had moved into the bar of moonlight now, and Griswell recognized it. Then he saw Branner's face, and a shriek burst from Griswell's lips. Branner's face was bloodless, corpse-like; gouts of blood dripped darkly down it; his eyes were glassy and set, and blood oozed from the great gash which cleft the crown of his head!

Unsurprisingly, Griswell flees the house in fear and fortunately comes across Buckner, the sheriff, who was riding home late after delivering a prisoner to a neighboring county. In a panic, Griswell explains what happened and, while somewhat skeptical, Buckner is willing to consider the possibility that there is some truth in what he saw, since the house Griswell and Branner visited was Blassenville Manor. As a traveler, Griswell has never heard of the Blassenvilles.

"Who were the Blassenvilles?" asked Griswell, shivering.

"They owned all this land here. French-English family. Came here from the West Indies before the Louisiana Purchase. The Civil War ruined them, like it did so many. Some were killed in the War; most of the others died out. Nobody's lived in the Manor since 1890 when Miss Elizabeth Blassenville, the last of the line, fled from the old house one night like it was a plague spot, and never came back to it ..."

From there, the story turns toward investigation, as the sheriff follows up Griswell's claims and, in the process, reveals to the reader a great deal more about the terrible history of the Blassenvilles. I won't say any more about the plot or the central mystery of "Pigeons from Hell," since I don't want to spoil it for those who've never read it before. However, I will offer up another quote from the story that provides some insights into the nature of the story.

He had thought of the South as a sunny, lazy land washed by soft breezes laden with spice and warm blossoms, where life ran tranquilly to the rhythm of black folk singing in sunbathed cottonfields. But now he had discovered another, unsuspected side—a dark, brooding, fear-haunted side, and the discovery repelled him.

The story is well-done and genuinely scary at times. It was dramatized in 1961 as an episode of the anthology series, Thriller, hosted by Boris Karloff. You can see the whole episode below. It's rather well done and, sadly, is one of the most faithful adaptations of Robert E. Howard's works into a TV show or movie.

Open Friday: Batteries Not Included

When I was younger, I used a lot of pre-packaged adventure modules with the RPGs I played with my friends. One of the things I appreciated about them is that, if they introduced a new monster or magic item or whatever, they included the game stats for it at the back of the product. Come to think of it, that was generally how new "stuff" got introduced into RPGs. There were exceptions, of course. For example, Gary Gygax's module, The Forgotten Temple of Tharizdun, uses a lot of monsters from the Fiend Folio, so, if you want to play that module to its fullest, you need a copy of the FF. Likewise, Isle of the Ape uses spells and magic items from Unearthed Arcana and more or less expects that the referee owns and is using that book in his campaign if he wishes to run the module.

How do you feel about this? At what point is it too onerous to expect that a referee owns a particular supplementary work? Should adventure modules include everything not included in the main rulebook for the benefit of those who don't own anything else or is it reasonable to assume that most players own the latest releases?

Imagine Magazine: Issue #2

Issue #2 of Imagine appeared in May 1983 and kicks off with an editorial that treats a topic that regularly concerned TSR at the time -- what is and is not an "official" change to D&D and whether or not house rules change one's game into something else. Though the editorial itself takes a more moderate approach to this question, it nevertheless cites Gary Gygax's own opinion that

any house rules that alter the technical aspects of the way an AD&D™ game is played mean that the game being played is no longer the AD&D game.

It's worth noting that, while TSR -- and Gygax especially -- became much more strident in pressing this point over time, it was not a new point. Going back at least as far as the Dungeon Masters Guide's release in 1979, Gary argued that, if you're not playing AD&D by the book, you're not playing AD&D but something else instead.

Jim Bambra and Paul Ruiz return for a second installment of "The Beginner's Guide to Role-Playing Games," as well as "The Adventures of Nic Novice" comic strip. The latter focuses on generating a character's ability scores and presents 3d6 in order as the method. The example character is a fighter with the following rolls: 18, 8, 10, 11, 15, 9. That's very close to the fighter stereotype I inherited as a young man, in which nearly every felt a character needed 18 Strength and felt that a good Constitution was valuable, but all the other abilities didn't much matter, so long as they weren't too low.

Roger Musson's "Stirge Corner" column discusses "winning" in the context of RPGs, another topic clearly geared toward neophytes. Meanwhile, Gary Gygax's "The Big, Bad Barbarian" is a reprint of an article that appeared in issue #63 of Dragon. Graeme Morris provides an adventure, "For the Honour of the Tribe," that is designed for a party consisting solely of barbarians. It's actually a rather interesting little adventure, though it does little to make me appreciate the Gygaxian barbarian class, which I've long disliked.

There's a report on Games Fair '83 that's worth noting, since Gygax was a guest of honor at the convention. According to the report, attendees were "surprised at how approachable Gary [was], after the negative press he received in the hobby." It's also reported that Gygax "horrified a few of the purists with one remark," namely that "a good referee only rolls the dice for the sound they make. He just decides what happens!" While that comment might have been surprising in 1983, it's pretty well known nowadays that Gary had a lot more of the "storytelling" style as a referee than many old schoolers would themselves countenance in their own games.

"Horror Scope" by Chris Baylis is basically a horoscope column, using the months of the World of Greyhawk setting in place of zodiac signs. It's pure fluff without any game mechanics attached to it. Graeme Morris reappears to offer news of upcoming changes to AD&D, including new character classes, weapons, and spells. "Dispel Confusion" offers up official answers to questions about AD&D, Star Frontiers, and Top Secret. Editor-in-Chief Don Turnbull has a short but well-done column in which discusses the ways in which RPGs are odd kinds of games. He concludes with this:

The game [i.e. D&D and, by extension, all RPGs] thrives on its lack of rules, its lack of equipment, the lack of any necessity to learn more than a few simple facts, its lack of competition, its indeterminate length, its free-for-all no-holds-barred style.

The comic "Rubic of Moggedon" re-appears and is just as baffling to me as in its first appearance. Pete Tamlyn's "Tavern Talk" continues to report on fanzines and local events. It's worth mentioning that Imagine continues to feel more plugged into the local hobby scene than Dragon did at the time. I like that. There are multiple game reviews, including one of The Morrow Project, which is surprisingly favorable. "Illusionary Script" returns with more mind-benders, as does Mike Brunton's "Figure Painting." Nick Pratt presents a review of the 1973 film The Island at the Top of the World, with an eye toward its utility as inspiration for referees. Concluding the issue is more of "The Sword of Alabron" comic by Ian Williamson.

Reading Imagine almost 30 years after it was published is an enlightening experience, both because it sheds light on UK gaming culture at the time, but also because it's a house organ gaming magazine that doesn't seem aloof from the hobby out of which it grew. There's a "groundedness" to Imagine I find intensely appealing, even if it sometimes comes at the cost of being a lot less polished and "professional" when compared to Dragon.

Oh no ...!

If the latest news from Hollywood is to be believed, there are plans to release another Conan movie in 2014 -- in which Arnold Schwarzenegger will reprise his role as the Cimmerian. Much as I was disappointed by the 2011 reboot of the movie series, the last thing I wanted to see was Arnie return to play Conan for a third time, especially at age 65.

The unwelcome truth that, whatever limited virtues the 1982 movie has, it's not exactly crying out for a sequel, certainly not more than three decades later. It's also disappointing that, in 2012, after the strides made in the literary re-appraisal of Robert E. Howard's work and after we've seen decent, if not 100% faithful, adaptations of beloved works of fantasy, we hear Frederik Malmberg, the man whose company owns the rights to the character of Conan, say the following of this upcoming film:

“The original ended with Arnold on the throne as a seasoned warrior, and this is the take of the film we will make,” Malmberg told me. “It’s that Nordic Viking mythic guy who has played the role of king, warrior, soldier and mercenary, and who has bedded more women than anyone, nearing the last cycle of his life. He knows he’ll be going to Valhalla, and wants to go out with a good battle.”

Perhaps he's speaking metaphorically here, with "Nordic Viking" and "Valhalla" being mere shorthand, but, even so, it doesn't exactly bode well for the authenticity of this project -- not that that has ever been a concern of Schwarzenegger's Conan efforts. I suppose we can hope that, like so many Hollywood pictures, this one winds up in development hell and never sees the light of day.

Retrospective: AD&D Action Scene Kits

When I was a kid, most boys I knew enjoyed model building. Even I did, though I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, particularly proficient at this hobby. Still, I remember walking down entire aisles of toy stores that were given over to plastic model kits of every kind imaginable. The vast majority of them were either military vehicles, especially those from World War II, or automobiles. There were airplanes, too, as well as rockets. There were also models of the space vessels from Star Trek and Star Wars. I remember being very fond of a model of the USS Enterprise that was released in the wake of 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The model had working lights and, for many years, mine hung from wires in my bedroom.

Around 1982, model manufacturer MPC produced a series of boxed "action scene kits" under license from TSR. These kits -- there were three of them, as I recall -- consisted of molded plastic terrain and a handful of plastic miniatures based on  Grenadier's official AD&D miniatures. The miniatures generally consisted of two halves that snapped together without the need for glue, though some of them required a bit of filing down before they worked properly. Once assembled, they could then be painted, though I don't think I ever got around to doing so. Painting miniatures, even plastic ones, has long been my downfall.

The set I owned was called "Dungeon Invaders" and depicted a raid on a dragon-inhabited dungeon by a party of adventurers. There were other monsters in addition to the dragon, but I can't for the life of me remember which ones they were. I think there were some skeletons and a carrion crawler, but I may well be mistaken. In principle, this was a model kit, intended for display no different than, say, a WW II battle scene, but I never used it that way. Instead, my friends and I take the molded terrain and used it as an adjunct to our cardboard dungeon tiles. For us, it became another way to help us visualize our dungeon adventures.

Truth be told, these action scene kits weren't very well made, either as models or as gaming miniatures, but we didn't care. For us, they were a comparatively cheap way to acquire a lot more minis to use in our sessions and the idea of three-dimensional terrain, even if it was only a single piece, excited us beyond all measure. It's funny how anti-miniatures a lot of old schoolers are these days and I share their belief that RPGs shouldn't require their use. But I also remember well that, when I entered the hobby, miniatures and dungeon tiles were a big part of its attraction to me. I doubt I am alone in that regard.

Imagine Magazine: Issue #1

Back in April 1983, I hadn't the slightest inkling that TSR UK had just released the "adventure gaming magazine," Imagine. Though I avidly read Dragon at the time, there was no mention of Imagine's premier anywhere in its pages. And while White Dwarf was readily available at many of the hobby shops and bookstores where I bought RPG products, Imagine never, so far as I know, crossed the Atlantic to land anywhere near my home. Consequently, I didn't even learn of its existence until long after it had ceased publication in late 1985, which is a shame, because it's a both a very interesting gaming periodical in its own right, as well as a window into what the UK gaming scene was like in the early to mid-80s.

Gary Gygax, in an interview he gave in 1999, talks a little about the genesis of Imagine and its ultimate fate. Like most things Gary said after his departure from TSR, you have to take much of it cum grana salis, but it's interesting nonetheless.

It was my plan for TSR UK to publish a UK version of "Dragon" magazine. This I meant to be named "Royal Dragon" and its content were to be about 50% that taken from "Dragon" the balance, and all ad space, coming from contributors and advertisers in the UK. Don Turnbull did not favour this plan and eventually he convinced the Board of Directors that his "Imagine" magazine was a superior idea. I was dubious, but I agreed. As a matter of fact, the magazine never showed any substantial profit, generally ran at a loss from a purely financial standpoint. Of course, the advertising and promotion of the TSR line and the goodwill the publication generated, justified its continuation for the time. Had the expense of half the content, general layout too, been absorbed by "Dragon" magazine, which was then generating a profit of something like a million dollars annually, and the name I urged been used so as to make it clear that it was tied to the D&D game, I believe the publication would have made a profit, been more effective and still satisfied the individual tastes of the British gaming audience. That is a moot question now, certainly.

As for lower echelon staffers believing that they were paid to be independent critics of TSR products, somehow being given free rein to exercise their budding critical talents, I can only shake my head in wonderment at such hubris. Biting the hand that feeds one has always been considered in bad taste. If such persons felt so overwhelming an urge to be independent, they should have sought employment elsewhere or struck out on their own. In short, I have absolutely no sympathy for such views. The very reason for their employment was to promote the TSR line and its success paid the wages for their livelihood.

I'll return to Gygax's comments periodically, as I discuss the thirty-one issues of Imagine in the months to come.

What's most immediately interesting about issue #1 is how much material it includes for complete neophytes. There's "The Beginner's Guide to Role Playing Games" by Jim Bambra and Paul Ruiz, which is accompanied by a comic strip called "The Adventures of Nic Novice," which focuses on explaining just what a RPG is. Then, there's Roger Musson's "Stirge Corner" column, where he reminisces about his first encounter with RPGs and how he had to wrap his mind around the concept of a game with "no restrictions." I find myself wondering if roleplaying games were still a largely alien concept in the UK in 1983 or if these articles were simply meant as a way to entice newcomers to the hobby into picking up a copy of the magazine.

"QB-161-01: Antares" by John E. Black is a fiction piece about virtual reality "cubes" and the consequences of one man's use of them. Dave Pringle offers up book reviews and the pseudonymous Gordius presents a mind-bender in the "Illusionary Script" feature. Michael Brunton and Graeme Morris co-author a D&D adventure called "The Beacon at Enon Tor," which is designed for use with the recently-released Frank Mentzer-edited Basic Set. Morris also provides "D&D Players Association News," as well as (again with Brunton) the "Dispel Confusion" column, which answers questions about AD&D and Star Frontiers game rules. "Turnbull Talking" is for TSR UK's head honcho, Don Turnbull, to talk about whatever is on his mind.

Peter Tamlyn's "Tavern Talk" is a column devoted to "the amateur side of the hobby," focusing on conventions, fanzines, and the like. Meanwhile, Jim Bambra reviews Star Frontiers and Paul Cockburn reviews Judge Dredd. Michael Brunton returns in a lengthy piece called "Figure Painting," where he talks about how to paint miniature figures for use with RPGs. Rounding out the issue is a brief "Letters" column (understandably so, since this is issue #1) and a comic by Ian Williamson called "The Sword of Alabron," which is notable for featuring an explicitly Scottish dwarf (he is identified as such and even wears a kilt). Is this the first instance of that now hoary gaming stereotype?

What's most notable looking at Imagine #1 is how much less polished it is than contemporary issues of Dragon. At the time, that probably would have put me off -- I felt similarly about White Dwarf -- but nowadays I find it not only charming but positively a point in its favor. There's also a lot more emphasis on the amateur side of the hobby, with lots of ads for fanzines, local cons, and the like. Though clearly a house organ for TSR UK, Imagine nevertheless feels a lot more "open" than did Dragon, which is precisely what Gygax was complaining about in the interview quoted above. Me, I like that and I suspect it's one of the defining characteristics of this magazine.

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Adventuress

A regular refrain of this blog since its inception is the fact that the chasm between "fantasy" and "science fiction" that now exists in the minds of many readers was once not so vast. Consequently, many writers felt no compunction at dropping laser guns or spaceships into their fantasy stories or including vampires or ghosts in their science fiction ones. This looseness carried over into the early days of our hobby, too, as anyone familiar with the Blackmoor and Greyhawk campaigns can attest (not to mention many others). As a younger man, I generally wasn't comfortable with the blurring of the lines between the two genres. As I get older, though, I find myself not only more comfortable with it, but embracing it, as anyone who's even passingly familiar with my Dwimmermount campaign would know.

I mention all of this as an introduction to "The Adventuress" by Joanna Russ, which first appeared in the science fiction anthology, Orbit 2, edited by Damon Knight and published in 1967. The Orbit series was published between 1966 and 1976 and included twenty-volumes -- roughly two a year. Its authors were an eclectic bunch, but many were newcomers with unusual approaches to their stories, which is why Orbit had a reputation for being "cutting edge" in its day.

"The Adventuress" is a good example of Orbit's content, since its protagonist, Alyx, is cut from the mold of C.L. Moore's Joirel of Joiry or Robert E. Howard's Black Agnes rather than the females in your typical sword-and-sorcery tale. Did I say "sword-and-sorcery?" In an anthology of "the best new SF stories?" As I said, genre boundaries were a lot looser back in 1967 than they would become later, so readers wouldn't look askance at the story of a female thief in the fantasy city of Ourdh being included in Orbit. Besides, it's not entirely clear that Alyx inhabits a fantasy setting anyway. Over the course of her adventures (there are five short stories about her), she flits between a fantasy world, the ancient world of our own Earth, and a more "pure" science fiction setting without little explanation (though the later introduction of the time traveling Trans-Temporal Authority might serve that purpose if one wishes to be kind).

"The Adventuress" begins with Alyx as a follower of a deity named Yp, whose faith preaches "the venomous hatred of inanimate objects for mankind.” Fed up with such nonsense -- and the persecution that goes with it -- Alyx abandons the worship of Yp to become a pickpocket, a vocation she finds much more rewarding (in every sense of the word). In doing so, she eventually makes the acquaintance of a spoiled young woman named Edarra, who is seeking to escape an arranged marriage to a Bluebeard-like widower. Together, the two women leave the city of Ourdh, along the way encountered numerous people, both malevolent and benign, as well as bicker incessantly, owing to their very different outlooks on the world.

What makes "The Adventuress" interesting is not the story itself, which, while engaging enough, isn't particularly ground-breaking. Rather, it's the character of Alyx herself, who, as I mentioned above, is not cut from the same cloth as the women who appear in too many pulp fantasies. Alyx is blunt, driven, and clever, which makes her quite appealing. A good example of what I mean can be found in this exchange between her and Edarra, in which Alyx discusses a brief but passionate love affair she once had:

“Ah! what a man. A big Northman with hair like yours and a gold-red beard—God, what a beard!—Fafnir—no, Fafh—well, something ridiculous. … And we fought! At a place called the Silver Fish. Overturned tables. What a fuss! And a week later,” (she shrugged ruefully) “gone. There it is. And I can’t even remember his name.”

“Is that sad?” said Edarra.

“I don’t think so,” said Alyx. “After all, I remember his beard,” and she smiled wickedly.

In case you're wondering, yes, that's a reference to Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd. Leiber obviously thought well enough of Russ and her literary creation that he returned the compliment by including Alyx in not one but two Lankhmar stories. In my book, that's recommendation enough to try and find "The Adventuress" and give it a read.