Countdown

As I write this, there's just a little over 24 hours left till the end of James Raggi's "Grand Adventure Campaign" on Indiegogo. Of the original 19 adventure pitches, two have funded so far -- those by Jeff Rients and Vincent Baker -- but several others stand a good chance of funding too, most notably Kelvin Green's "Horror Among Thieves." Kelvin's is a particularly interesting one, not only because he's a great guy and the subject matter of his adventure is intriguing, but because (in the words of Raggi):

If Horror Among Thieves does NOT fund, LotFP will still be publishing the adventure. It won’t necessarily be on the same timetable as if it were to fund, but we’ll put it out.

Anyone contributing $10+ to the campaign will get the adventure PDF, WHETHER OR NOT THE CAMPAIGN FUNDS.

Anyone contributing $20+ to the campaign will get the physical book, WHETHER OR NOT THE CAMPAIGN FUNDS.

Monte Cook also contributed an adventure to the campaign, "The Unbegotten Citadel," and anyone who contributes $100 or more to get it funded will receive a free PDF copy of Cook's Ptolus, which is itself worth $60.

There are several other freebies and special deals for contributors to this campaign -- too many in fact for me to keep track of. If you want to keep abreast of them, your best bet is to head over to James Raggi's blog, where I have little doubt he'll be posting like crazy between now and 11:59 PM Pacific Time on July 31, 2012.

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Tale of Hauk

For reasons I've never quite been able to ascertain, Gary Gygax singles out the third volume of the Andrew J. Offutt-edited anthology series, Swords Against Darkness, for special mention in Appendix N to the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide. This isn't to say that Swords Against Darkness III isn't worthy of inclusion -- it includes stories by Ramsey Campbell, Tanith Lee, and Manly Wade Wellman, not to mention Poul Anderson's essay "On Thud and Blunder," which ought to be enough to qualify it by almost any standard -- but I can't help but wonder what it was that made it so memorable to Gygax. I say this because the first volume, published in 1977, contains a similar lineup of authors and is, to my mind, just as good as (or at least no worse than) its successor.

A good case in point is Poul Anderson's "The Tale of Hauk," a short story based on Scandinavian legend. The titular hero, Hauk Geirolfsson, is a "chapman" -- a trader -- who has traveled far and wide beyond the northern lands of his birth. Hauk is often gone for years, visiting places and seeing things of which his people have never dreamed. Despite this, his father does not think especially well of him, seeing trading as no profession for a Norseman. At one point, a female friend of Hauk asks him about his manner of life.

"So you grow mighty as a chapman, Hauk," Alfhild teased. "Have you never gone in viking ... only once, only to please your father?"

"No," he answered gravely. " I fail to see what manliness lies in falling on those too weak to defend themselves. We traders must be stronger and more war-skilled than any who seek to plunder us." A thick branch of driftwood, bleached and hardened, lay nearby. Hauk picked it up and snapped it between his hands. Two other men would have had trouble doing that. It gladdened him to see Alfhild glow at the sight. "Nobody has tried us twice," he said.

Anderson thus makes it clear that, while Hauk is unlike others of his people, he is still a stout warrior and a brave one, too, having faced more than bandits in the course of his many travels. Geirolf, his father, is now an old man who can no longer go viking, as he once did. Embittered, angry, and fearing "straw-death" -- death in his bed rather than in battle -- he has taken to insulting and challenging all whom he meets, in hopes of rousing them to strike and kill him. He does this repeatedly to Hauk, but his son ignores his affronts.

While away on yet another journey, Hauk's father dies in his bed. Because of his manner of death, Geirolf cannot be buried in his ship, but is instead placed in an ordinary earthen grave. This does not sit well with his spirit, which rises as a "drow" and begins to wreak havoc on his people. When Hauk returns, his family and friends turn to him, assuming that, in his travels, he might have learned of a means to deal with such a threat. "I am no wizard," he replies. "If the gods themselves would not lay this ghost what can I do?" The remainder of the story deals with that question and how Hauk decides to answer it.

Poul Anderson is one of my favorite authors, so my judgment when it comes to his work is likely impaired. Nonetheless, I don't think I exaggerate when I say that "The Tale of Hauk" is one of his best short works of fantasy, not so much for its story -- though its story is quite compelling -- but for its use of language. Among Anderson's many interests was what English might sound like bereft of its non-Germanic word borrowings, culminating in his 1989 essay on atomic theory called "Uncleftish Beholding."  "The Tale of Hauk," though from an earlier date, was written in a similar vein and, rather than being whimsical, the style suits it perfectly, making it at once easily readable but also evocative of another time and place. As Offutt says in his own introduction to the piece:

If the language of this story isn't the way scholars think the tales of Scandinavia should be translated -- they're wrong. If you don't promptly fall in love with the language -- you're wrong.

That may be a bit strong of a sentiment, though only a bit. For myself, I adore the way Anderson tells this tale; his use of largely "Anglo-Saxon" words lends it a unique sound and rhythm that, along with its story of filial piety and a society in transition, makes it well worth a read.

Mini Surprise

I have quite a few things to share over the next few days, but, in the meantime, enjoy these photos of a surprise gift I received when I swapped some RPG books with someone.

I remember when these miniature reprints were released back in 1999, but I never acquired any at the time. I wasn't really playing D&D anyway, let alone first edition AD&D, so I didn't see any point in purchasing these things. Now that I own a couple, I regret my shortsightedness, especially since, as I recall, there were also miniature reproductions of the Moldvay/Cook boxed sets. Those would be awesome to own, don't you think?

Retrospective: Ravenloft: Realm of Terror

Normally, I like to restrict my retrospectives to products released prior to 1984 or thereabouts, both because I consider these years to be the Golden Age of the hobby (and Dungeons & Dragons in particular) and because that was the era of my "innocence" as a gamer, before I had any sense of what was really going on at the companies that made my favorite games. From time to time, though, I'll make exceptions and talk about materials produced after 1984 that were particularly noteworthy in some way or another, if not for the hobby as a whole, at least for me personally. One such exception is 1990's Ravenloft: Realm of Terror boxed set, written by Bruce Nesmith with Andria Hayday.

By 1990, I wasn't actually playing much D&D anymore. I'd largely moved on to other games, partially out of fatigue -- I'd been playing Dungeons & Dragons in one form or another for more than a decade -- and partially because I wasn't a huge fan of AD&D's second edition, released in 1989. The reasons for my dissatisfaction are many and varied and not particularly germane to this post. Suffice it to say that, while I did buy plenty of Second Edition books and supplements over the course of its existence, I rarely used them to play. Mostly, they were things I read instead of gaming, which is a pretty sad commentary on how I approached my supposed hobby during a lot of the 1990s.

In my defense, I can only say that I was not alone in this regard. Indeed, my personal experience suggests that a great many formerly active gamers largely became mere readers -- and avid ones at that -- of gaming material in the '90s, which may well explain the proliferation of different settings for AD&D throughout that decade. Ravenloft was one of those settings and, while I remain ambivalent about the adventure module that spawned it, I nevertheless saw enough potential in the setting that I happily bought the boxed treatment of it when I saw it. The boxed set consisted of a 144-page softcover book, four large maps, 24 cardstock sheets, and a transparent overlay to be used in conjunction with the maps, since, back in those days, TSR felt that including some means of determining distance on the maps themselves somehow detracted from their appearance. (No doubt I read too much into things, but I see such a style vs. substance decision as indicative of a lot about the 2e era).

Ravenloft: Realm of Terror was basically an attempt to create a Gothic literary setting/sourcebook for AD&D. It was precisely this that appealed enough to me that I bought it in the first place. I was -- and am -- a big fan of Gothic literature, or at least many of the themes and elements derived from it, many of which were present in D&D from its first publication. Consequently, the notion of explicitly playing up those elements and themes struck me as a worthy endeavor. And, for the most part, I think Realm of Terror did a decent job of doing just that, with rules modifications to classes, spells, and magic items, as well rules for curses, fortune telling, the seduction of evil, and more. There were also essays on Gothic literature and how best to use it as inspiration for adventures and campaigns.

In 1990, this was all rather heady stuff to me. Aside from superhero RPGs (and Call of Cthulhu), there wasn't a lot of straightforward emulation of literary sources in the hobby, at least not as I experienced it. Even then, it was often done in a rather hamfisted fashion, whereas Realm of Terror seemed to be a lot more "sophisticated" and "thoughtful" in its approach. If nothing else, it gave greater consideration to the difficulties of running a horror-based D&D campaign, something even the original Ravenloft module never quite managed to do in my opinion. It's also worth noting that Realm of Terror predates the upsurge of interest in horror RPGs that followed in the wake of Vampire: The Masquerade and its sequels and imitators, thus making it a trailblazing product in many ways.

That's not to say that, looking back, it fully succeeds in its goals. In my opinion, Realm of Terror suffers from two opposite sins. First, despite the rules modifications it presents, it's still fundamentally a D&D supplement and many aspects of D&D militate against the emulation of horror literature of any kind, let alone the emotionally charged horror of the Gothic type. Second, while I appreciate -- now more than ever -- the attention paid to the literary inspirations of the setting, I do think there's a bit too much emphasis placed on emulation, to the point where it subtly encouraged a kind of railroad-y playstyle that became to dominate later products in the line. Now, neither sin is insurmountable in my opinion and neither takes away from the genuinely groundbreaking nature of Realm of Terror, at least to my much younger self.

One of my queerest gaming eccentricities is that I own nearly all every Ravenloft-related product ever produced. I consider them some of the most inspirational gaming materials I own, even though I think most of them are deeply flawed either in content or presentation (or both). Yet, even the worst of them contain a spark of something I find compelling, from which I can derive good ideas for use in my own adventures and campaigns, which is, frankly, a rare and laudable thing. Nowadays, I find a similar spark in Jack Shear's superb Tales of the Grotesque and Dungeonesque blog, as well as 164-page compilation of much of its contents available in softcover or hardcover through Lulu.com. Even if you were never a Ravenloft fan as I was, the blog and the compilations are well worth your time and good examples of some of the best stuff the OSR is producing these days.

Erol Otus Wizard

I'm going to be away for a couple of days, so more scans of the artwork from the 1982 French edition will have to wait till later in the week. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this image of a wizard by the inimitable Erol Otus from the boardgame, Dungeon!, as requested in the comments to my previous post.

French D&D Images

As promised, here are some scans of a few pieces of artwork from the 1982 French edition of Dungeons & Dragons Basic Set edited by Tom Moldvay. What you'll notice is that a great many of the images below are re-imaginings of pieces that appeared in the original 1981 English language version, like this one:

The original version of this from the 1981 edition is almost identical, right down to the numbers shown on most of the dice, so why bother commissioning a new piece?

Goofy though it is, I actually really like this illustration by Jim Holloway. There is a comparable illustration in the 1981 edition, but it depicts two people (one male, one female) imagining themselves as D&D characters, not one, and neither looks anything like this fellow, who seems a truer representative of the cohort of gamers entering the hobby via the Basic Rules.

This looks to be another Jim Holloway piece, depicting what I suspect are meant to be a thief, an elf, and a dwarf. It's wholly original and has no antecedent in the 1981 edition.

This is Larry Elmore's version of the famed alignment illustration from the 1981 book. I can't be certain, but I think it had previously appeared elsewhere, perhaps in an issue of Polyhedron, but my memory is faulty after three decades.

Here's another reworking, this time of Erol Otus's wizards arguing over who gets which magic items from their latest haul. While the entirety of this piece by Larry Elmore (so far as I can recall) never appeared anywhere, the female magic-user on the left makes several appearances in the 1983 Frank Mentzer-edited Basic Set.

There are many more illustrations in the French Basic Rules I can share if there's sufficient interest in seeing them. I picked the ones above because they struck me as interesting and because the majority of them are either direct re-imaginings of things found in the 1981 English version or depict similar things. I find myself wondering why all the interior artwork is new and unique to this edition but the Erol Otus cover painting was retained. Regardless, I find it helps give the 1982 French version a flavor all its own that distinguishes it from the original work from which it was derived.

Inc. Articles on TSR

Reader Markus Siebler passed along a couple of links I thought I'd share, since they provide fascinating looks back on the history of the hobby. They're both from the February 1982 issue of the business magazine Inc. The first, "TSR Hobbies Mixes Fact and Fantasy," talks about the phenomenal growth of the company since its incorporation in 1975. I found this quote from the particularly amusing:

In their business explorations, TSR's owners and managers have been called upon to use many of the skills that are required to play Dungeons & Dragons. "I quit playing the game about two years ago to get some objectivity," says Kevin B. Blume, 30, chief operating officer."I love to play, but it wasn't that difficult to forego. Now I'm playing a much larger game called business. That's why we're intuitively good businessmen -- because games are a great way to learn."

The second article, "Why TSR Hobbies Is So Profitable," includes an income statement for fiscal 1981, which reveal the company had net sales close to $10 million, which would have been a significant amount 30+ years ago.

The articles are short and filled with self-congratulatory puffery on the part of TSR (there's no mention whatsoever of Dave Arneson, for example), but, even so, it's fascinating stuff, not least because it was written as the company was still riding high. However, it wouldn't be very many years in the future before the company's fortunes were quite different, posting a net loss in revenue and having to lay off large numbers of its staff.

Hulks & Horrors

With so many excellent old school crowdfunding campaigns under way these days, it's easy to miss some of the smaller ones, such as John Berry's Hulks & Horrors, which he describes as  

a classic dungeon crawl experience with a mashup of gonzo sci-fi and space opera tropes from the golden ages of the genre, with a touch of good humor, shocking horror, and good old fashioned fun

The basic premise of the game is described at some length on the game's webpage, but I thought the following section might be useful in sparking the interest of regular readers of this blog. Berry writes:

Set in a galaxy left almost stripped of sentient life by an ancient and horrific plague, in Hulks and Horrors players take on the role of troubleshooters and private explorers called "surveyors," contracted to explore distant worlds, and given full license to kill and loot whatever they find there. Players in H&H will encounter a host of dangerous foes, from plague horrors, to indigenous beasts, to rogue surveyor crews.

Hulks and Horrors takes its inspiration from the classic science fiction and fantasy roleplaying games of the 70s and 80s, particularly the works of Gygax, Moldvay, and Ward, as well as the pulp science fiction of comics, TV and film, and artistic works from the likes of Rodney Matthews and Roger Dean, and magazines like Heavy Metal and 2000AD.

If that sounds at all intriguing to you, hop on over to the campaign's Indiegogo page and consider making a pledge.

Dungeon! Memories

Among the other treasures from the early days of my gaming I've recently recovered is my copy of TSR's Dungeon! boardgame. This is not the copy with which I learned to play and was thus introduced into the hobby but rather a later version I picked up for myself, the one with the awesome cover by Jim Roslof:

My daughter has been eyeing the box with some interest, in part because of the (Willingham?) illustrations on the side, depicting the various character options:

It's interesting that only the illustrations of the elf and wizard change from side to side. It's also interesting to see that Dungeon! preserves the "hero" and "super hero" terms that first appear in Chainmail and baffled me as a kid. My daughter is similarly baffled, especially after she noticed a monster card called "Evil Super Hero." "Wouldn't that be a 'super villain'?" she asked. Speaking of monster cards, here are a selection that made a big impression on me as a young person:

Though these aren't the same cards as those included in the version of Dungeon! I played back in 1979, they contain several of the creatures whose odd names stuck with me. Black pudding (pictured upside down above -- ugh!) is one I remember thinking notably peculiar, though green slime and purple worm also left a mark on my imagination.

As the years wore on, my friends and I continued to play Dungeon! To spice things up, I created new monster cards, based on creatures from D&D I thought should be included. I typed them up -- back in those days, I used a typewriter for everything -- cut the pieces of paper to the appropriate size and then used double-sided tape to affix the paper to existing cards I wouldn't miss (I felt there were too many vampire cards, for example, so a lot of them were re-purposed for new monsters).

Dungeon! remains one of my favorite boardgames. I actually think it holds up very well, despite its age, and could serve as an excellent introduction to D&D for younger players. That's why I'm heartened to see that Wizards of the Coast is reprinting the game in the Fall. Here's hoping they haven't tinkered too much with the rules, since a big part of what makes the game work is its simplicity and ease of play.

May the Dice Be With You!

On a couple of occasions I've told the story of how I landed a free copy of the French language edition of the Tom Moldvay-edited Basic Set in the Fall of 1984. Thanks to my mother, I now have this copy in my hands again and I've spent a portion of the day looking through it -- it's been quite the trip down memory lane! Here's a photo of the box:

As you can see, it uses the same cover as the original 1981 set, even though it was published in late 1982. Here's the title page, which is slightly different:

What's interesting about this page, aside from Gygax's inscription to me, is that the illustration is a Jeff Easley reinterpretation of the original Bill Willingham piece. Next up is the cover of the French version of The Keep on the Borderlands.

This one has a new illustration by Jim Holloway. Also in the box are the French versions of Palace of the Silver Princess and The Lost City, but both of them use them same artwork as the English language originals. Here's the title page of module B2:

There's a second inscription by Gygax, along with another Holloway illustration that I don't recall ever seeing before and that appears to be a variation on the Jim Roslof piece from the version of the module I own. Flipping through these books I noticed quite a few reinterpretations of iconic scenes from the Moldvay rulebook by later artists, including a couple by Larry Elmore. It makes for an odd visual experience, since I "recognize" many of the illustrations, even though they're done in a different style by a different artist.

I'll probably have more to say about the 1982 French Basic Set in the coming days.