Revolting Memories

In my youth, I adored the TSR minigames, especially Revolt on Antares, designed by Tom Moldvay and whose counters, depicted above, were illustrated by Jeff Dee. I can't tell you how many times I played this game with my friends while we hung around in someone's basement, waiting for the rest of our group to arrive to play D&D. 

While I enjoyed the straightforward, almost bare bones rules of the game, it was its little setting details that I found most compelling. The leaders of the warring noble houses had names like Black Dougal Mackenzie and Catherine "the Mad" Braganza, while Galactic Heroes carried monikers like Corvus Andromeda and Doctor Death. Silly? Perhaps but they struck just the right pulpy, space operatic tone with me and my young self imagined who these people were and how they related to the distant, ill-described Imperial Terran Empire [sic] that laid claim to Antares 9. 

If nothing else, it's a reminder that it's far from necessary to flesh out a setting in exhaustive detail. Sometimes, just a few evocative names and a piece of well chosen art is enough to do the job – or at least it was when I was a young man. Less can be more.

House of Worms, Session 212

His clan mates having joined him, Keléno then introduced them to Mitsárka hiWashára, a priest of the pariah god known as The One Other masquerading as a priest of Belkhánu. Keléno expected his clan mates to be as appalled as he was by this revelation, the worship of any of the pariah gods being punishable by death by order of the Petal Throne. After all, the fifth emperor of Tsolyánu, Trákonel I, known as the Blazing Light, spent much of his reign suppressing the cult of this forbidden god and his edicts against it had remained in place ever since. Surely his companions would feel as incensed as he did.

As it turned out, they did not. Znayáshu stressed that, as pariah gods go, The One Other wasn't so bad. More to the point, this proscribed deity played an important role in the ancient epics, The Lament to the Wheel of Black and the Song of the Reaper of Sighs, which recounted the Battle of Dórmoron Plain. When Ksárul challenged all the gods for mastery of the cosmos, those same gods turned to The One Other in order to erect the walls of the Blue Room in which Ksárul would be imprisoned. If this divinity were wholly untrustworthy, why then would the other gods of Pavár's pantheon have accepted his aid? And since their present mission involved traveling to a plane on which the Battle still raged, would it not be wise to follow their example and accept the assistance of one of The One Other's priests?

Keléno had no good response to this and soon found that all friends and clan mates shared Znayáshu's opinion (or simply did not care, arguing for some variation of "we could use all the help we can get"). Keléno acquiesced to their wishes but, later, visited the temple of Sárku and tasked its adepts to produce for him a Chlén-hide dagger enchanted with an execration spell intended to harm devotees of the pariah gods. He suspected that Mitsárka would eventually betray them and, if so, he wanted to be prepared. Later still, he paid a visit to his first wife, Hmásu, herself supposedly a secret priestess of The One Other, according to Mitsárka, and calmly upbraided her for her duplicity. He stressed how disappointed he was in her and how he wished that she had been more forthcoming with this information. For her part, Hmásu remained largely silent and made no attempts to defend herself, knowing full well that it would little to assuage her husband's righteous anger. Nevertheless, Keléno asked Hmásu to share a meal with him, as suspected that he might soon never see Hmásu – or Tékumel – ever again.

Elsewhere, Keléno's newly freed Naqsái slave, Chanchayánto, was formally enrolled into the House of Worms clan, with the assistance of its clanmaster, Grujúng hiZnáyu. As a token of her new life, she adopted a Tsolyáni name, Chankúra hiMissál, and has made it known she intends to accompany her new clan mates on their journey to the Plane Beyond. Grujúng and the clan elders also deliberated regarding Aíthfo's wedding to Ta'ána hiKhanúma of the Black Stone clan. Since the purpose of this marriage was to cement the place of the House of Worms clan in Linyaró, the question at hand was how extravagantly the wedding was to be celebrated. Back in Sokátis, it was commonplace for high-ranking clans to lavish great expense on weddings in order to display their wealth and influence; as the clan of the colony's governor, it was decided that the House of Worms needed to "put on a good show," but not one so expensive that it bankrupted the clan.

The wedding itself went off with out any problems, beginning with a procession from the bride's clan house to the palace of the governor, where rites, officiated by a priestess of Avánthe, occurred. This was according to the custom of Sokátis, since, in Tsolyánu, marriage is not strictly a religious matter, though, in some locales there are religious connotations. The rites were followed by an immense celebration, both within the palace and without. The palace celebrations were by invitation, limited to those of rank and influence within the colony, while those outside were purposefully open to all, in order to demonstrate the magnanimity of the House of Worms clan. In the midst of these celebrations, both Znayáshu and Nebússa spent much of their time keeping an eye on various guests, looking for evidence of any suspicious behavior. They directed much of their intention at Mitsárka hiWashára, since they knew little of his background or true allegiance.

Random Roll: DMG, p. 119

The Dungeon Masters Guide devotes three paragraphs on p. 119, right before the descriptions of magic items, to "Energy Draining by Undead or Device." When my eyes came across this section, I knew immediately it'd be worth examining. The matter of level drain remains one of the most contentious topics in all of D&D and AD&D, right up there with alignment in terms of spawning debates and disagreements, even after more than forty years. I've touched on this topic several times previously and in those instances it generated a lot of comments, suggesting people have strong feelings on the subject. I've personally never had any real issues with the rules as written, but, even so, I remain keen to see if there are details and nuances about it that I might have missed.

Gygax begins his discussion of this topic in the Dungeon Masters Guide by stating that "when a character loses a level of energy, he or she loses an experience level," adding

he or she loses hit points equal to those gained with the acquisition of the former experience level (including bonus points for constitution), all abilities gained with the experience level now lost, and experience points sufficient to bring the total possessed to the mid-point of the next lower level. 

What immediately strikes me is that the drained character only loses half the XP between the previously earned level and the new, weakened one. I can't recall ever seeing that rule before or, if so, I'd long ago forgotten it. In the years since, I've always docked a drained character all the experience points earned between the previous level and the new one. Thus, a 5th-level fighter struck by a wight would drop down to 4th level and 8001 XP, according to my scheme, while Gygax says that the fighter would have 13,001 XP. Apparently, I've been doing it wrong all these years. I think this takes a little of the bite out of level drain, though probably not enough for dedicated opponents of the mechanic.

That first paragraph goes on to say

If this brings the character below 1st level of experience, then the individual is a 0 level person never capable of gaining experience again. If a 0 level individual is drained an energy level, he or she is dead (possibly to become an undead monster).

This is fascinating to me for what it might imply about a metaphysical distinction between ordinary, 0 level people and adventurers. Does Gygax mean to suggest that no level 0 character can ever gain XP, or does this apply only to characters who formerly had levels above 0 who drop down to that level due to energy drain? He doesn't clarify the matter, unfortunately. 

On the matter of multi-class characters, Gygax explains that the drain always affects the class with the highest level or, if they are equal, the highest experience point total. In the case of an energy drain that steals two levels, one level is taken from each class (at least in the class of, say, a fighter/magic-user; presumably a character with three classes struck by a spectre loses one level each from the two highest classes). 

Gygax also elaborates on the matter of "lesser undead controlled by their slayer/drainer." He explains that, in most cases, "each has but half the hit dice of a normal undead monster of this type." However, in the case of vampires, the situation is somewhat more complex.

Lesser vampires have but half their former level of experience with respect to profession (cleric, fighter, etc.) at the time they initially encountered and were subsequently slain/drained by their now-master vampire, i.e., an 8th level thief killed by a vampire, even though drained to below 0 level in the process, returns as a 4th level thief vampire, as appropriate. However, upon the destruction of their slayer/drainer, such lesser undead gain energy levels from characters they subsequently slay/drain until they reach the maximum number of hit dice (and their former level of class experience as well, if applicable) appropriate to their type of undead monster. Upon reaching full hit dice status, they are able to slay/drain and control lesser undead as they once were.

Though not directly relevant to the overall question of level drain, I found it intriguing nonetheless, since it makes clear how differently Gygax viewed vampires from other undead. As a younger person, I noted that nearly every vampire to appear in a AD&D module had character levels, a possibility noted in the Monster Manual but whose details were never fully explicated until the DMG.

John Carter in Comics (Part III)

In the mid-60s, Gold Key reprinted the Dell Barsoom Comics of the previous decade. John Carter's next appearance after that was in February 1972, as a back up feature in DC's Tarzan of the Apes issue #207.

The feature is an adaptation of A Princess of Mars and appears over the course of three issues, starting with this one. Plotted by Marv Wolfman and scripted by Joe Kubert, it's penciled and inked by Murphy Anderson in issues #207 and #209 (with Gray Morrow handling #208). 

This particular adaptation is notable for its rather weird interpretation of the Tharks, as seen on this page:

I'd love to know what they were thinking by giving the Green Martians double torsos like this. I find it incredibly off-putting, not to mention having no basis in the text of Burroughs. Interestingly, issue #208, whose artwork is done by a different penciler depicts the Tharks in a more traditional fashion. However, the double-torsoed Tharks return in issue #209, when Anderson resumes his penciling duties. He's also the first artist responsible for drawing DC's interpretation of the incomparable Dejah Thoris.

After these three issues, the adaptation continues in September 1972 in a new comic, Weird Worlds, before concluding in its seventh issue in October 1973. As adaptations go, it's noteworthy only for the fact that, since it was published in the 1970s, the attire of Carter and the Martians is closer to that described by Burroughs in his original stories, something that would have been less likely in earlier decades. Otherwise, I find it merely adequate, despite the involvement of several comics legends.

Retrospective: Dungeon of Dread

It's increasingly my contention that the years between 1982 and 1984 are among the most interesting in the history of TSR. It's during these years that the company is clearly struggling with the faddish popularity of Dungeons & Dragons, trying to find ways to harness that popularity for both immediate and long-term profit. Consequently, the period is one of wild – and often absurd – experimentation, one not inaptly encapsulated in the metaphor of "throwing spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks." 

There were a lot misfires during this time period, as TSR seemed to adopt a two-pronged approach to broadening the market for their products. On the one hand, there were the bizarre craft items, like D&D-themed needlepoint sets, targeted at non-gamers, while on the other hand, there were the toys and storybooks, aimed at children, presumably with the goal to seed an interest in the kind of fantasy that D&D offered. As a somewhat self-serious middle aged man, it's easy for me to cringe at both these approaches, but, from a purely business perspective, they're not inherently flawed. Indeed, focusing on younger children had great potential, even if I might balk at the specific products that TSR approved for sale under the banner of the Dungeons & Dragons brand.

Part of this strategy involved the publication of a series of "choose your own adventure" style books in a series called Endless Quest, the first four of which appeared in June 1982. All of these initial offerings were written by Rose Estes. I know nothing of Estes prior to her work on this series, except that she was apparently employed by TSR and may have worked under James Ward in the company's Education Department. A few months ago, I wrote a post about this, in which Ward makes reference to "a simplified version of the DUNGEONS & DRAGONS game … geared for the people who have never heard of the D&D game, and don't know how to play it at all." If this is correct – and I have no way of knowing if it is – this "simplified version" of which Ward speaks evolved into the Endless Quest series.

The concept of solo adventure books was not a new one. The aforementioned Choose Your Own Adventure series began in 1979 (based on the earlier Sugarcane Island book by Edward Packard) and Tunnels & Trolls released its pioneering Buffalo Castle in 1976. Producing D&D-branded versions of the same was actually a very good idea, one that Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone also had, releasing The Warlock of Firetop Mountain a couple of months later in the same year. I'd been an avid reader of the early Choose Your Own Adventure books, to which I'd been exposed by a librarian several months prior to my introduction to D&D. Had the Endless Quest books been available at the time, I have no doubt I'd have been a fan of them as well. As it was, they came out a little too late – I was almost thirteen at the time – and scoffed at them as yet another example of "kiddie D&D," tween-age boys being almost as insufferable as middle-aged men.

A few years ago, I picked up a used copy of the first entry in the series, Dungeon of Dread, and read through it. The book assumes that the reader is an adult human fighter, described rather specifically as 5'9" tall and weighing 150 pounds, outfitted with a sword, a dagger, leather armor, and a collection of typical adventuring gear, like rope and flasks of oil (no 10-foot pole, alas). Your adventure begins as you awaken one morning to find a halfling, named Laurus, rifling through your belongings, looking to steal them while you slept. He begs for his life and tells you about an evil wizard named Kalman, whose prisoner he once was, and whose lair is filled with equal amounts of treasure and danger. Naturally, you decide to seek out his lair and explore it with the halfling, hoping to defeat Kalman and enrich yourself in the process.

While far from a great work of fantasy literature, Dungeon of Dread, isn't awful, especially when compared to, say, the Choose Your Own Adventure books. The prose is more sophisticated and the numbered sections longer, more like that of a light novel aimed at older children, than a mere gamebook. Again, I should emphasize that it's nothing spectacular as a work of fiction, but it certainly achieves its goal of painting a picture of what adventuring in the implied setting of Dungeons & Dragons might be like, aided by Jim Holloway's illustrations. The dangers the reader encounters are a mix of classic monsters, along with a goodly supply of vermin, which, I think, firmly anchors it in its time period. Overall, I think Dungeon of Dread is more forgiving in its choices than either Choose Your Own Adventure books or Fighting Fantasy, but I also think that's at least partially a function of its more novelistic style, which sets it apart from its competitors.

I get the impression that, of all the strategies TSR attempted to appeal to a younger audience, the Endless Quest series was one of the most successful. Over the course of five years, the series swelled to three dozen entries by a number of different writers and encompassed multiple game lines besides Dungeons & Dragons, as well as licensed properties like Tarzan and Conan. I don't doubt that they succeeded in their intention of introducing a new generation of kids to roleplaying games.

Imagine Magazine: Issue #30

And so we come to the final regular issue of Imagine magazine, issue #30, which appeared in September 1985 (there is also a Pelinore-focused special edition dated October 1985, which I do not own). The issue is another special one, dedicated to the subject of Vikings, with a cover by Richard Clifton-Dey. There is a brief editorial by Keith Thorrson, commending the issue's contents but no indication that the periodical would be ending, which suggests the decision to kill Imagine was a surprise to its staff. Back in the USA at the time, TSR was in a state of chaos, with the power struggle between Gary Gygax, the Blume Brothers, and, later, Lorraine Williams in high gear. This struggle had financial implications too, with layoffs and the shedding of assets to deal with debts. It's quite likely that Imagine was collateral damage of all of this, but I can't say that for certain.

"Viking!" by Graeme Davis is a lengthy (6-page) article providing aid to referees and players on how to integrate various aspects of Norse society, culture, and myth into D&D and AD&D. It's a fine article but necessarily more of an outline than a detailed plan of how to bring these RPGs more in accord with the world of the Vikings. David Hill's "Rune Magic" is similar, though much shorter and narrower in its scope. "None for mortal men doomed to die …" by Carole Morris is an overview of the Volsüng saga, with some very brief notes on how it provides inspiration for Norse-themed RPG campaigns. 

Venetia Lee and Reif Dormann offer "Icelanders," which briefly describes the history and legends of medieval Iceland. It's fine as far as it goes but, like most of the content in this issue, is very light on game material and much more heavily focused on "real world" information – not bad by any means but less than I'd have hoped in a roleplaying games magazine. "Ragnarok!" – lots of exclamation points in this issue! – is a Battlesystem scenario based on the mythical Norse battle between the Aesir and the Giants. I have no idea how well it would play but the concept is an excellent one. "The Norse Planes of Gladsheim" by Rod Stevenson provides details on the home of the Norse gods, according to the cosmology of AD&D. Again, it's fine, given its limited scope, but it doesn't compare to the Roger E. Moore's treatment of the same subject in the pages of Dragon. 

This month's Pelinore piece is actually a collection of three entries, the Asylum, the Deathcart, and the Waxworks (the first two by Brian Garrod and the other by Linda Moore), each of which includes NPC descriptions and ideas for scenarios involving them. The tone and content of these entries reminds me quite a bit of early Warhammer Fantasy Role Play and points toward many of the things I tend to associate with 1980s British fantasy: black humor and general grottiness. Carl Sargent's "Dispel Confusion Special" continues what was begun last issue by tackling cleric and druid spells. Reviews cover a large selection of TSR products for AD&D, D&D, Marvel Super Heroes, and Indiana Jones, along with products for Twilight: 2000, MERP, and TOON. Neil Gaiman's "Fantasy Media" looks at the movies Legend and A View to a Kill (both of which he disliked) and Ttrancers (which he enjoyed), in addition to The Wishsong of Shannara, which he calls "a must for those who like fantasy trilogies with silly names." "Fanscene" continues with more letters and opinion pieces about the state of the hobby, while Roger Musson's "Stirge Corner" the oddities of AD&D's hit point and armor class systems – still contentious topics today.

As I expected, I find myself feeling slightly saddened by conclusion of Imagine's run. The final issue, like so many of its predecessors, is a mixed bag that points toward the potential the periodical had even as it also highlights its flaws. I've been attempting to reach out to some of the principals involved in Imagine, with the hope that I might be able to arrange interviews with them to talk about their memories and experiences of those day. So far I've met only limited success but I'll keep trying, because I'd love to know more about those days. The mid-80s were a fascinating time of transition in the hobby on both sides of the Atlantic and I'd love to learn more about it from people directly involved in it. Until then, I'll be moving on to a new magazine next week, Chaosium's Different Worlds, which ran for forty-seven issues between 1979 and 1987.

The Hall of Blue Illumination

M.A.R. Barker's world of Tékumel has been a passion of mine for many years, particularly since 2014, when I began producing The Excellent Travelling Volume. Since late 2016, I've also been one of the hosts of The Hall of Blue Illumination, a podcast devoted to Tékumel. 

As of this date, there are forty episodes to the podcast and, after a pandemic-induced hiatus, we're starting to record new episodes, with an eye toward releasing one each month. The goal of The Hall of Blue Illumination is to "demystify" Tékumel, a setting that is notoriously complex and difficult to get into for those unfamiliar with it. If you've ever had any interest in Tékumel, you might consider listening to an episode or two. I can't promise you'll become as enthusiastic about it as I am, but I hope my fellow hosts and I might at least make it a little less intimidating.

Rob Kuntz News

Yesterday, I received the following announcement:

The announcement contains links to two of the parties involved: TLB Games and Legends of Roleplaying, whose sites provide additional information about their products and plans for the future. Of particular interest to me are the references to Kuntz's Kalibruhn setting and his megadungeon, Castle El Raja Key, both of which are among the earliest examples of their kind in the history of the hobby. I believe it to be a tragedy that neither the Castle Blackmoor nor the Castle Greyhawk dungeons have ever been made available in a published form (the same goes for M.A.R. Barker's Jakállan underworld, though that, at least, in still a possibility in the future), so the prospect of seeing more of Kuntz's own early work is to be celebrated. 

BRP News

The Old School Renaissance owes a huge debt to the release of the d20 System Reference Document and the Open Game License by Wizards of the Coast in 2000. With them, many of our favorite retro-clones, like Labyrinth Lord and Old School Essentials, among many others, would have been impossible (or at least much more difficult) to produce legally, not to mention many other RPGs, adventures, and support materials derivative of the contents and rules of Dungeons & Dragons.

Over the last two decades, other publishers has followed in the footsteps of Wizards of the Coast, making their game rules and content open and available for use by other publishers. The latest to do so is Chaosium, whose celebrated Basic Roleplaying system, originally created for RuneQuest but eventually used in nearly every RPG published by the company, is now offering its own System Reference Document and royalty-free license for use by third parties. You can find all the details at the BRP website.

As long-time admirer of Basic Roleplaying and many of the games Chaosium has produced using a version of BRP, I think this is exciting news. Chaosium already has several community content programs in place that, by all accounts, have produced some excellent materials. With the SRD and license, it's quite possible we'll start seeing whole new BRP games being published, which is remarkable. We've already seen renaissances of interest in D&D and Traveller thanks to similar arrangements; here's hoping the same happens for Basic Roleplaying.

Pulp Fantasy Library: Necromancy in Naat

To atone for the fact that I allowed the birthday of Clark Ashton Smith (January 13) to pass by without comment, I turn again to one of his short stories for this week's installment of Pulp Fantasy Library. "Necromancy in Naat" first appeared in the July 1936 issue of Weird Tales. If its cover illustration, by Margaret Brundage, looks familiar to you, it should, since this issue's headline story was the first part of Robert E. Howard's masterpiece, "Red Nails." The issue is also notable for featuring stories by Edmond Hamilton, C.L. Moore, August Derleth, and Manly Wade Wellman – a veritable who's who of the golden age of the pulps.

"Necromancy in Naat" owes its existence to a "benign, maleficent daemon," as Smith called his muse in a letter to fellow writer, Donald Wandrei. Prior to penning it, CAS had thought himself done with tales of Earth's last continent. Yet, what he produced rivaled Howard's "Red Nails" in the opinions of the readers of Weird Tales. The story concerns Yadar "prince of a nomad people in the half-desert region known as Zyra" who seeks to rescue

Dalili, his betrothed, whom the slave traders of Sha-Karag, swift and cunning as desert falcons, had reft from the tribal encampment with nine other maidens while Yadar and his men were hunting the black gazelles of Zyra.

Grieved and angered, Yadar swears an oath to find his beloved, "whether in slave-mart or brothel or harem, whether dead or living, whether tomorrow or after the lapse of grey years." Long-time readers of Smith will not be surprised to learn that that oath and its wording are central to the narrative and conclusion of "Necromancy in Naat." 

Yadar then sets off in the company of four of his men for "the iron gates of Sha-Karag … where women were the chief merchandise." Unfortunately, he quickly learns that Dalili has already been purchased by slavers who hoped to sell her "to some opulent king or emperor who would pay a city's ransom from the wild, rare beauty of the outland princess." Yadar is undeterred and sets off along the same route as the slavers, hoping to learn what became of Dalili. Over the course of months, he visits multiple cities, seeking the girl, before he learns that she "had been bought by the emperor of Xylac and sent to the ruler of the far southern kingdom of Yoros as a gift concluding a treaty between these realms." Upon learning this, Yadar books passage aboard a ship headed for Yoros (his men having died of a "strange fever" sometime beforehand).

The ship wrecks onto the island of Naat, called the Isle of Necromancers. Yadar barely survives and, when he comes to on the beach of the island, he beholds his rescuer, a young woman who "walked in the fashion of a somnambulist" and took him to her masters, three of Naat's fabled necromancers, chanting beside a fire.

Gaunt as starved herons they were, and great of stature, with a common likeness, as of brothers; and sharply ridged were their faces, where shadows inhabited their hollow cheeks, and their sunk eyes were visible only by red sparks reflected within them from the blaze. And their eyes, as they chanted, seemed to glare afar on the darkling sea and on things hidden by dusk and distance. 

In the light of the fire, Yadar comes to realize that the woman who had saved him was "none other than his lost love, Dalili!" Strangely, she does not react to his kisses or entreaties and Yadar turns to the trio of necromancers, who identify themselves as a father (Vacharn) and his two sons (Vokal and Uldulla), asking what they have done to her. They explain that Dalili is dead, like all their servants, her body washed up on the beaches of Naat after another shipwreck like his own. Vacharn further explains that Yadar's survival was no accident but rather the result of his sorcery and that he had in mind "a certain purpose" for the nomad prince, one he would fulfill in time. Needless to say, Yadar is none too pleased by these revelations and his attempts to come grips with them – and thwart them – propels "Necromancy in Naat" toward its gruesome conclusion. 

I like this story a great deal, despite certain similarities to a previous Zothique yarn, "The Charnel God," though that's perhaps inevitable since both tales deal with weighty matters of love, death, and the connection between the two. Compared to some of Smith's other stories, "Necromancy in Naat" is far more restrained in its vocabulary, focusing more on its theme than on verbal resplendency. Consequently, it feels rather than different than other CAS efforts and that might contribute to my fondness for it. At the same time, I readily admit that it takes some getting used to and I wouldn't blame anyone who prefers the dream-like prose poetry of his other works.