Sunday, April 10, 2016

Elven Snowflakes v Better Than Dracula

Here is a pair of entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you're new to the contest, it's like this: these two essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write something interesting and original about hoary old RPG topics.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the second round Thought Eater essays are up...

The rules for the second round are here.

First One


If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "VED" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.



On Tokenism [Elven Snowflakes]

There are two humans, an elven archer, and a dwarf with an axe, preparing for battle. Sixty feet of terrain - shrubs, rocks, trees, and a shallow stream - are all that stands between them and an orcish war party, brandishing deadly melee weapons as they charge. “So, what topic are you writing on?” Tolkien? 4e? Warhammer?

“So what? You’re saying elves and orcs are similar in different fantasy genres?” Maybe. “That’s the least original thing ever written on the internet.” Try and stay awake, I’ve got a point to make but I’m not sure what it is yet and we’re taking the scenic route to get there. 

I.
Tolkien’s dwarves, elves, orcs, hobbits, they’re the archetype, the ideal, yes, of course, when fantasy becomes a genre fantasy elves are like Tolkien’s elves, and so of course when D&D becomes a fantasy game it has elves like fantasy elves like Tolkien’s elves…

“Where are you going with this, exactly?” Let’s start with a thought exercise. Imagine an arbitrary elf. “Got it.” Is it a Warhammer elf, or a Tolkien elf, or a D&D elf? “Well, it could be any of them, but I thought you said that wasn’t the point.” Right, let’s get specific, imagine an arbitrary Tolkien elf. “Easy.” Ten grand says you just imagined Legolas. “Lucky guess.” Right, so imagine two arbitrary Tolkien elves, or five, or ten. How are they different? “Well, some of them are female.” Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.

II. 
Smarter people than me have already written extensively about this next part, so I’ll be brief: we use symbols a lot, all the time, in everything; symbols and caricatures are useful for quickly familiarizing ourselves with unusual situations/places/whathaveyou (e.g. fantasy worlds); fantasy draws heavily on stereotypes (say, Tolkien elves) because as cultural / mythological symbols they are a shorthand that carries a lot of subtext, we can say “ah, an elf, I know what elves are like”. Zak may have already written an article on this, or was it Nietzsche? 

By way of example I will say only that I have referenced “Tolkien elves” extensively so far, without identifying a single characteristic of what it means to be a Tolkien elf, and I guarantee everyone reading this knows exactly what I’m talking about. Hang on to this thought, I’ll be coming back to it.

III. 
“So what exactly are you writing on?” Good question, alright, thesis statement: Tolkien’s characters were caricatures even before they became archetypes, that is, the now-iconic fantasy races (orc, elf, dwarf, ‘halfling’) as he envisioned them are too shallow to be anything but stereotypes. “So what, Tolkien was being racist? Still not original.” No, well yes, he was, but no that’s not the point, he didn’t just make these archetypes that everyone used, he obliterated any possibility of creating something else, he killed the words he used for his races (elf, dwarf), he killed the word race. I mean, yes, people let’s say “generalized” about other cultures [races] in real life, but this was the 20th century, people could be racist but even when they thought that a race had tendencies they knew they weren’t all the same person; but Tolkien simplified the concept of “race” so far that he is single-handedly responsible not only for the human-centric nature of fantasy but also the incredible shallowness of most fantasy characters that plagued the genre throughout most of its life. “Fantasy doesn’t have shallow characters.” Count yourself lucky, you never had to suffer through what passed for fantasy characters before The Black Company came along and authors realized that a world could have magic and plot both, and if you even think of trying to tell me that fantasy is not human-centric we are going to have a problem, no, Drizz’t doesn’t count, and anyway in a magical world where literally anything is possible half his companions are human.

IV.
Obvious statement time: elves existed in fantasy before Tolkien, and were not like elves after Tolkien. “We know.” It’s good to see these things written out, even if they’re obvious, this next one will drive it home: before Tolkien, elves were a “unified race” in the sense we think of in fantasy e.g. they all shared a bunch of characteristics, were not human, had their own ‘kingdom’, etc. but also, they were not all the same - elves were magical, and not of this world, but meeting one elf didn’t tell you a whole lot about what the next elf would be like, that was part of the mystique, you never knew, is this elf dangerous? Helpful? Mischievous? Getting lost in fey woods meant asking yourself, Am I going to come out of this alive? With a lei of lilies around my neck? Or with a donkey’s head? 

All of which is going a very long way to say, it’s not that Tolkien’s elves are too similar to D&D elves, it’s that Tolkien’s elves are too similar to Tolkien’s elves. 

V.
“Isn’t that a tautology?” Bear with me, we’re jumping back to symbolism for a bit; “The symbolism of Tolkien’s elves?” No, the symbolism of the word elves, in different contexts; it’s not that Tolkien reinvented the concept of an elf (which of course he did, but that’s not the point), it’s that he defined it too precisely:

If we are talking Shakespeare (which in this context draws heavily on Celtic mythology) and I say elf, you think “magic, mystery, danger”, you think Titania and Oberon and Puck and any one of them has the power to kill you but they’re too busy chasing each other with magic flowers, the word elf in this context is broad, it’s a handful of big symbols, and that means you can have a Titania and an Oberon and a Puck and they’re all very different, some of them can fly and some can’t, some of them are invisible, they have their own realm that’s part of our world but not and only specific rituals can get you in, but there’s room for a bunch more rituals and a bunch more elves and a bunch more stories about elves and you can make up your own elf that acts however you want and is still an elf and still fits in with the other elves because the elves are a people, a race of people, not a race of person, singular.

But if we talk Tolkien (and by extension, D&D, all fantasy) and I say elf you think “longbow, dual-wielding, austere, lives in the trees, ancient, detached, mildly xenophobic”, which is to say that the word “elf” doesn’t make you think of some cultural similarities the way e.g. “French” does, it makes you think of a specific person, and you’re not wrong to do so; all the elves have those characteristics, yes there’s a Legolas and an Elrond and a Galadriel but an elf by any other name...they’re interchangeable, the symbol is too strong and too specific, they all have the same strengths and the same flaws, just to greater or lesser degrees, it’s the same person over and over again, and it’s why fantasy stories focus on humans, or skip characterization entirely, because “elf’ is already the entire character, there’s no room to go deeper, and it’s why when I say “Tolkien elves”, or D&D elves, or Warhammer elves, I don’t have to explain what I mean or give them names, they’re all the same person, Tolkien elves are all Legolases, and D&D elves all have +2 Dexterity, and Warhammer elves even have interchangeable pieces.

VI.
If I had a dollar for every time an author told me how lithe an elf was, I’d never need to work again; and yet not once, not even one time, has an elf been “bulky”, or “fat”, or “rotund”, you’d think with hundreds of authors fighting for this space someone would want to be original, but they can’t, if they want to stand out the elf uses a gun or has dark skin but the symbol is so strong that when they ask the question “how can I, an author with limitless power over my world, make this elf unique” all they can think to do is change what he’s holding; and that’s because they are asking the wrong question, the word “elf” is a trap, and it stands always in Tolkien’s shadow. 

I will wager everything I have that not only will Wizards of the Coast never, ever, ever put out an illustration of an Elven powerlifter or a Dwarf-Raistlin, it will never even occur to them to do so. This is not a complicated (or even, dare I say, original?) concept - it’s the very simplest inversion of the trope - but the symbol is so specific that it’s fragile, Dark Sun has planet killing magic and Eberron has sci-fi spaceships and they’re still D&D, but if you put out a D&D sourcebook where the cover shows an elf with a bodybuilder’s physique and a cigar it breaks the symbolism, the shared understanding of what game we’re playing, and now it’s a radical statement about masculinity or feminism or something but it’s definitely making a statement, in your face and on purpose, you can’t look at that picture without thinking that’s not an elf, I guess elves are all cigar-smoking jocks in this adventure, why did they make elves into something they’re not?

VII. 
I’ve read the books twice, I’m literally watching The Two Towers right this second as I write this to see if it helps, and Lord help me even while they’re on the screen right in front of me I couldn’t tell you which of the hobbits is Merry and which is Pippin. 

VIII.
Final thoughts: first rule of D&D blogging is if you’re going to make people sit through your ravings offer them something they can take back to the table in exchange, so here it is: break the cycle. Tolkien elves are slender and good with bows, so D&D elves get “good with bows”, so when a player sits down and wants to use a bow they end up with an elf; Tolkien orcs are good with axes, so D&D orcs get “good with axes”, so if a player wants to use an axe they end up with a (half) orc, who’s going to pass up those sweet stat bonuses just to be original when the game is explicitly telling them which race is better? “I play a gnome barbarian”. Your party hates you. 

This is going to be controversial, standard DIY D&D “this won’t work for everyone” disclaimers apply, but I feel very strongly that the play experience is improved by decoupling racial bonuses from race, call it something else, “training bonuses”, your players will thank you. Let them play an elf character with the dwarven racial traits, or an orc character with the halfling racial traits. “It doesn’t make sense for an orc to be able to hide behind a gnome.” That same orc can summon a magical floating hand, is so good at crime that he can steal prepared spell slots, and that’s the part you want to complain about? I promise you, everything I have, your players will have fun explaining how they got their ‘racials’, they’ll be more invested in their characters, and they’ll have more fun. 


If nothing else, the next elf your players roll up will be a little more memorable.



Second One


If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "IHP" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.



Cooler than Dracula

Spoiler Alert: There will be spoilers regarding Ravenloft (module I6), and this will be your only warning, so if you continue reading, do so freely, and of your own will.

Ravenloft (module I6) by Tracy and Laura Hickman, is a classic AD&D adventure starring Count Strahd von Zarovich, the first vampire, who longs for the woman that he loved and killed. Strahd dominates Ravenloft both in the adventure and on the gaming table. He is certainly the master of the land, but the Hickmans also made him the master of the adventure. Strahd, the authors inform us, must be kept alive for the sake of the story (Ravenloft, page 2) until it is time to kill him, yet Strahd’s strategic options are quite limited (Ravenloft, page 3), likely to protect the party from him since Strahd’s audience needs to survive too1 in order to witness the fall of Strahd, the romantic, brooding, tragic, brilliant wizard-vampire dark hero of this story. The familiar and correct critique of Ravenloft is that Ravenloft is indeed Strahd’s story, and that the adventure as written manipulates the PCs in order to tell Strahd’s tale of woe2.

This manipulation includes the PCs receiving a letter pleading for help that the PCs are assumed to rush off to (Ravenloft, page 7) without any pause for investigation, doubt. or preparation. Another example of the manipulation was mentioned earlier: Strahd, according to the authors, must live since the adventure ends with him, and yet Strahd  is so powerful that if his strategic options were not greatly limited, he would simply destroy the PCs. The Vistani are another example. Madame Eva tells the PCs the truth when she reads their fortunes, since this  furthers the objectives of the story, even though she is “very neutral” and “serves Strahd as long as it benefits her and her troupe” (Ravenloft, page 11). There is simply no reason for her to read the PCs fortunes and tell them the truth about Strahd’s location and the location of important items. If the PCs fail, Strahd (the genius) will likely deduce that Madame Eva gave the PCs the information, and Strahd will kill Madame Eva and perhaps all the Vistani. If the PCs succeed, the Vistani will lose a powerful benefactor. Since the Vistani have the ability to leave Ravenloft when they like, they have no need to kill Strahd or to help others do so in order to escape him, and lying to the PCs, and then warning Strahd, would likely earn them a reward. 

Unfortunately, the familiar and correct critique stops short of being useful. Ravenloft is manipulative. So what? People still enjoy it. The truth is, however, that more people would enjoy it if it were less manipulative, and the irony is that although Ravenloft, is manipulative, it does not need to be manipulative in order to create a gothic, horror experience for the PCs, out of which a gothic horror story can emerge, and fixing Ravenloft to remove the manipulation is quite simple.

One fix involves going back to the original source: Dracula. The fearless vampire hunters in Dracula know something about vampires, thanks to Van Helsing. Dracula is reluctant to simply attack them head on, despite his superior strength, due to their preparation and due to his being on foreign soil. The PCs could have a Van Helsing of their own, whether a PC who knows a lot about vampires, or an NPC sage, or the village priest who has been protecting Ireena. 

In addition, just as Dracula felt vulnerable on foreign soil (I believe Dracula would have been much more aggressive in Transylvania), Strahd needs to feel vulnerable too. Rather than have artificial restrictions on his attacks, Strahd should be careful for good reason. For the fragment of the Sunsword that the PCs possess (of course they do) might be a lesser but still potent version of the whole sword, and thus Strahd does not want to face it in a fight unless he absolutely must.

Something else that could make Strahd vulnerable, protect the PCs a bit, and add to the gothic mood would be to give Ireena insight into her past life as Tatyana. In fact, a PC could be the reincarnated version of Tatyana or Sergei, both of whom Strahd mourns greatly. As the reincarnated Tatyana or Sergei gets closer to Strahd, more memories resurface, and the PC gains valuable insight into how to fight Strahd.

The Vistani would make much more sense in the adventure if they were dissatisfied with Strahd for some reason. Perhaps he takes Vistani too when he feeds, and for this reason, Madame Eva does tell the truth when she gives the PCs their reading, but, also for this reason, she does not allow her fellow Vistani to share or sell to the PCs the potion that protects them from the mists. She wants Strahd dead, she wants to keep her connection to Ravenloft, but she does not want her people endangered. 

These are not the only changes that could be made to Ravenloft, but these changes would involve minimal alterations to the text of the adventure, and they would provide in-game reasons for what had once been contrivances. Ravenloft has had a  well-deserved reputation of putting story above player agency, but it has also earned its reputation as a fun, classic adventure. Those of us who criticize a great work owe it to ourselves and to other fans of it to improve it, rather than simply repeat the same critique over and over again.


1. This point was made clear in House of Strahd, module RM4, a revised version of Ravenloft.

2. This is often expressed as “railroading,” but that term is used too loosely. 
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Thursday, April 7, 2016

Maze of the Blue Medusa is now available for pre-orders

click to enlarge

259 pages--full color--7.5" w x 9" h--that's bigger than Red & Pleasant Land so you can see the detail in the maps.

Go to http://gum.co/motbm-pre to buy the Hardcover + PDF bundle, go to http://gum.co/motbm-simple to buy the Simple PDF.

Also, a Deluxe PDF—hyperlinked throughout for ease of use & exploration for GMs and readers—is in the works now (it'll cost $10 if you purchase it alone). If you order the Hardcover + Simple PDF bundle available today ($50 + shipping) but wanna upgrade to the Hardcover + Deluxe PDF bundle available soon, you'll pay only the difference.

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Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Der Giftschrank

So over on the 99% Invisible podcast* they have a whole episode about the history and functions of Der Giftschrank--"the poison cabinet"--which is not a low-hiss goth-industrial band (ok, probably by now it is, but anyway…) but a locked area in a library where restricted-access books are kept.

These things are not unheard of- in the kinds of fiction we make games from--there's the Forbidden Books section of the library in a Simpsons Halloween episode and if you read pulp horror novels from the 70s it's obvious the Vatican Library consists of nothing but evil devilbooks--but the existence of Giftschranke--and not just outright banned books--imply several interesting (and gameable) things that deserve to be looked at in more detail...

1. Ideas are dangerous

The concept of dangerous information is a commonplace--the Panama Papers, blackmailables, rocket fuel formulae, hoaxes, datatheft in Shadowrun, etc.--the concept of a dangerous idea, however is a lot more arcane and more fun. 

Outside concrete facts (real or fake) that people don't want other people to know or believe, there are a few ways ideas can be dangerous:

Heresies--This can run from the Phibionites to like Cthulhu worship.

Political propaganda--After WWII, Mein Kampf was placed in Der Giftschrank.**

Erotic works--Ideas upsetting to gender norms and whatnot or just, like, smutty pictures. Franz Von Bayros was in Der Giftschrank in the Yale art library.

Malculture--Ideas and images that are not overtly propagandistic but which are considered to make bad social practices seem desirable. During the Cold War, the East Germans kept American fashion magazines in Der Giftschrank. 

This last category is probably the most interesting and underexplored in game settings--because it speaks not to the kingdom's fear of evil clerics (been there), rival kingdoms (done that), or naughty bits (a cliche as old as Dragonmirth) but to the society's view of what makes itself different philosophically from its neighbors and what it thinks could destroy that. The Giftschrank says not only "we are not fashion magazines" but "we could be ruined by widespread dissemination of fashion magazines". What is in a setting's Giftschranke on cultural grounds tells you a lot about every single NPC from that setting and a lot about how PCs will be received.

Would Minas Tirith have Giftschranked literature depicting the joys of a simple rural life as undermining to the values of self-sacrifice and duty it demanded of young men holding the line against Mordor? Would The Hobbit itself have, therefore, been 'schranked?

Actually, probably not, because of one of the other interesting things about Giftschranke…
Poison Idea


2. The Society Thinks These Dangerous Texts Need To Be Studied

…I see Minas Tirith more as a book-burning town and Giftschranking isn't burning--or banning. The Giftschranke speaks to fear of ideas, true, but it also speaks to the admirable (per se) and sophisticated notion that even bad ideas need to be understood--all the better to combat them. Giftschranking restricts but does not prohibit access.

Reasons a culture might want to study 'Schranked texts:

Ulterior: Like secretly the Pope is a Chaos Cult member or jerks off to the saucy books. Like most hoary plot cliches, it's as dull in theory as it is useful in practice.

Forensic: If the authors of the dark text or their acolytes are yet among the living, the works may contain clues to hunting them down. Clearly the easiest schrankenmotiv to work into a game.

Scholarly: People just read this stuff to compile histories or studies or whatever. Suggests a relatively sophisticated culture where people have a lot of free time to do disinterested research. These kinds of individuals and institutions are unusual in fantastic settings (as they are in life) but can be a rich source of random gp-for-mcguffin fetch quests--again, as they are in life.

Rhetorical: This is mentioned in the podcast--reading a text makes it easier to refute its arguments. This is fun in a game because it suggests soft power and genuine persuasion are an engine in the setting rather than the more obviously gameable route of conversion by the sword. All across the kingdom there are clerics and monks explaining that rain can't be the tears of the Inestimable Cloud Titans because cloud titans are known to be warm-blooded and clearly…etc They make posters and have bake sales when they spread the word. The subtle permeations of propaganda can be fun because they are often unrecognizable as such at first. Like the Gnithians may be shocked to see that--counter to what they've been told for centuries-- elves do not actually fear water. 
Venomous Concept


3. Access To the Giftschranke Is Limited To The Worthy

Depending on the reason for the 'Schranking and the Gifting, access will be limited in one or more of the following ways:

Only the learned: A test of scholarship is implied.

Only the good: Tests of ideological or behavioral purity are implied.

Only the great: Signs of status and influence are required.

Only the initiated: Signs of membership are required.

Tests are always interesting in games, as they provide excuses for challenges, while signs of status or membership are effectively mcguffins to be chased. Also: all of this implies guards, security, etc, like around any treasure in any dungeon.



4. The contents of Giftschranke change

Regime change alters the contents of the Giftschranke--Germany's went from being heretical texts, then to pornography then to Nazi literature. The history of Der Giftschrank is a history of what the biggest monster is at any given moment.

So: you dig deep into the dungeon, fireball your way past the ancient reptile women and long-dormant golems, pick the lock and find…only books. But what's in those books tells you about that society's vulnerabilities.



5. Giftschranke can be virtual

The podcast notes that a new critical edition of Mein Kampf is coated with scholarly glosses debunking its arguments and providing historical context, calling this "a virtual Giftschranke". In college my epic lit teacher's copy of the Bible came the same way. 

The strategy of presenting a despised text through a scrim of critical thought which undermines or at least redirects interpretation of that text is an old one--the word "gloss" itself begins with margin notes on Bibles (and ends with the ironic quote tweet and Something Awful.com's shitty FATAL and Friends thread--where game books the SA harassment clique don't like are hateread under the protective fiction that all the books they don't like are somehow like FATAL). The idea of a dangerous text being circulated with these interpolations intact literally adds a new layer to the concept of the Eldritch Tome--you get the text, but you also might get who knows how many other mothers telling you what it means to the Snailmen, to the Shell People, to the Ranks of Khaine.

Even today, asking yourself what a society refuses to disseminate without commentary ("without context") attached tells you a lot about its values.



6. There is a moral and/or intellectual class system

In examining the philosophy of the Giftschrank note these four things:

A. There are dangerous texts
B. There is a kind of person for whom the text is not dangerous (it is for their perusal the books are preserved)
C. There is a kind of person for whom it is (they are not allowed in or are presumed not to have those intellectual tools)
D. The second kind of person is, nevertheless, still enough part of the society that they are welcome to read its other books

Person C is not interpreted as the enemy--after all, they are free to access the rest of the library. They are citizens, but second class. They are the ruled, but not the rulers. They can't handle the truth--but they are welcome to join the infantry, till a field, pay the taxes that create the Giftschrank that excludes them. The actual enemy is out there (they wrote the book) but they are a wolf, and the second, protected, class are sheep--someone you have commerce with- but are suspicious of-. These are the gullible and persuadable, the ones for whom ideas are truly dangerous, but who are nevertheless too useful to exile to the world of the evil. In all societies this class must include literate children, but it's most interesting and frightening when this class includes adults--who are allegedly legally and morally responsible for their own actions.

Only in the light of a malleable-but-not-anathematized class does the concept of "a dangerous idea" even makes sense--and in that same light the giftschrank's suspicion of democracy is made clear.***

Whose needs does the existence of this lesser class serve? The feudal monarch's, obviously, also the capitalist's (someone has to buy Crocs)--this can push worldbuilding away from seeing the society as a monoculture, with all the Shadow Dwarves privy to the same education.

This institutionalized condescension also makes 'schranked works extremely valuable--not necessarily to the sheep to whom PCs or malefactors might deliver them, but as a hostage. What ransom would a pope pay to keep Docetism off the streets?

Come to think of it--might be a good funding model for LotFP.
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*Thanks for the recommendation, Ram

**The podcast notes that in Austria, inspection is still forbidden to minors and goths.

***The profoundly goofy and profoundly conservative philosopher Leo Strauss held that all philosophy was essentially dangerous in the hands of the masses (thus Hitler, thus Stalin) and that no 'Schrank was schrank enough to keep the Gift away from them--yet still they must be ruled. Paul Wolfowitz and Robert Bork were big fans.


Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Princess of the Silver Palace by...a lot of people

So here's what we did:

You know that old TSR module Palace of the Silver Princess?  Y'know...


When she came it was as exile, descending from tempestuous night in a silver ship. She fled the collapse of her shining principality in the Immeasurable Abide, an implausibly vast agglomeration of paradisiacal cosms beyond the outer void. All she loved of her glittering homelands was consumed by the tyranny that lurks behind all tyrannies: by the Manifest Density which waits at the end of time. An agent of that creed, the Hegemon Ankylose Dysplasia , driven by colossal lust, sought pursuit beyond the Abide but was prevented by his preposterous gravitas and the girth of his pride from passing through the furled dimensions and on to the lesser cosms where the world hangs.

...that one?

Anyway, I farmed out every page to a different DIY D&D Blogger and we rewrote it--I'm shocked with how well it came out. You can use the old maps, but the key has been completely renovated with all new stuff.

Tom Middenmurk wrote a brand new freaky princess legend, Kelvin Green gave us some sweet picture map rooms, Stacy Dellorfano made the Princess' chambers seriously fucked up, Raggi dreamed up some incredibly elaborate ways to screw (or at least frustrate) your players, Humza invented some classy ghouls, James Mal made one of my favorite new trick rooms, and a whole lot more.

Free of course.

So check it here:
Princess of the Silver Palace
by
Tom "Middenmurk" Fitzgerald
David "Yoon Suin" McGrogan
Zzarchov "Neoclassical Geek Revival" Kowalski
Barry "actual Cockney" Blatt
Natalie "Revolution in 21 Days" Bennet"
James "I invented the phrase Gygaxian Naturalism. Sue me" Maliszewski
James Edward "Lotfp" Raggi IV
Trent "New Feierland" B
Humza "Legacy of the Bieth" Kazmi
Ramanan "I make all those cool online generators" S
Reynaldo "Break!" Madrinan
Kelvin "Forgive Us" Green
Daniel "Basic Red" Dean (thanks for picking up the slack on the folks who didn't have time to finish their pages)
Anthony "Straits of Anian" Picaro
Jensen "I talk to Paizo" Toperzer
Logan "Last Gasp" Knight
Kiel "Dungeons and Donuts" Chenier (thanks for the layout!)
Stacy "Contessa" Dellorfano
Patrick "Deep Carbon Observatory" Stuart
Scrap "Fire on the Velvet Horizon" Princess
Ken "Satyr Press" Baumann
and me a little bit


Oh and ps: the ghouls in Trent's last room were invented by Humza, the credits are a little wrong.
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Monday, April 4, 2016

Jackson Hobbit v RIFTS Psionics

Here is a pair of entries for the second round of the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you're new to the contest, it's like this: these two essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write something interesting and original about hoary old RPG topics.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the second round Thought Eater essays are up...

The rules for the second round are here.

First One


If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "ART" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.



Epically Boring: The Hobbit movie is not a model for adventure design.

Peter Jackson's treatment of The Hobbit has been panned by purists of The Professor's work . As much as Peter Jackson does violence to Tolkien's Hobbit, I disliked his adaptation because of the scale and the ridiculous action sequences. The scale of the events and the stakes of the story are epic but the scale does nothing to make the themes and plot of the story better. The character's have a more superhero like competence that makes it hard to suspend your disbelief. The films felt like something that wanted to be a “gee whiz” experience with a story tacked on. This mirrors a lot of what I've seen from WoTC with their 5E adventures. The current D&D 5E adventures have been about epic scale and the characters must become a sort of force of superheros to fight the threat. This made the Hobbit films and the 5E fairly predictable and banal. My point is that I'd like to see WoTC move away from making every published campaign the way Hollywood makes epic blockbuster films. 

There are these guys in the movie Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle who's entire existence is about what ever is “EXTREME!” In their world, there are only two choices EXTREME! or lame. Everything has to be over the top and enough is never enough. If it isn't EXTREME! then its lame. Peter Jackson's Hobbit and the more recent editions of D&D are these guys. Anything that's not EXTREME! is lame. That manifests in two ways. First, the scale of the events in the movie and the D&D adventures are on the epic scale. Second, the characters in both Hobbitand D&D have become comic book superheros in terms of what they can do physically. Let's start with the scale.

We can't just have dragons that are a danger or a cult that is a danger to the locals or even a maybe a kingdom.. There must be a DRAGON CULT TRYING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD! We just can't have a demon threatening a town or maybe a city. We have to have A DANGER THAT THREATENS TO OBLITERATE THE REALMS! We can't just have an Underdark adventure with some drow we need an INSANITY THAT THREATENS TO SHAKE THE FORGOTTEN REALMS TO ITS FOUNDATIONS! EXTREME! Similarly The Hobbit is loaded with EXTREME! scale. All the material taken from the appendices in LoTR about the necromancer, the fight at Dol Guldur and strategic importance that Smaug was killed never appeared in the text of The Hobbit. Instead of having what feels emotional experience where something we are kind of invested in as viewers or players, we have a retread of an overplayed theme. Superheroes out to save the world, again. They aren't motivated by their own interests, they are thwarting the interests of some bad guys because the bad guys are threatening to destroy the place where the good guys keep their stuff.

Tolkien's Hobbit, as it was originally published and conceived, is a story about an event that was very important to the characters involved in it. Though the Battle of Five Armies is important in the greater epic of the Third Age of Middle Earth, we don't get any of that in the novel itself.The slaying of Smaug and the battle further the story of how the little hobbit became a hero and the king of the dwarves learned a tragic lesson. The events were in service of the story. For Jackson, the story is service to the set pieces intended to make 14 year old boys say, EXTREME!This move towards always epic all the time has been paralleled in the modules published for 5E. All three adventures have a threat which, if the PC's fail, would result in rampant destruction in Faerun. The epic scale is built in to the assumptions the design team had in building the game as is evidenced by the following quote from the 5th Edition D&D Player’s Handbook: The Wonders of Magic page 8. “Many adventures are driven by the machinations of spellcasters who are hellbent on using magic for some ill end. A cult leader seeks to awaken a god who slumbers beneath the sea, a hag kidnaps youths to magically drain them of their vigor, a mad wizard labors to invest an army of automatons with a facsimile of life, a dragons begins a mystical ritual to rise up as a god of destruction- these are just a few of the magical threats that adventurers might face.” This sort of approach was not always so.
There were some classic D&D adventures with high stakes and heroism was, I think, the default assumption in the early days. Demonweb Pits and Temple of Elemental Evil are two examples but there was no assumption on the part of TSR that every published module had to end up with the PC's trying to save the world. There were plenty of modules where the adventurers just killed monsters and took their stuff. It was OK if they saved a village or made life a little easier for the guys guarding the borderlands. At the very highest level adventures, there were some threats which could be on the apocalyptic level but it wasn't the default assumption. Most of the adventures were with tough but adversaries that could be defeated by a group of adventurers that didn't resemble the Avengers. Which leads us to the second part of the EXTREME!

Rabbit sleds, dwarves that leap like Bollshoi ballerinas, orcs with big swords instead of arms (OK that was pretty cool), trolls with catapults on their backs and the list goes on an on. After a while, it all gets boring. If everything is EXTREME! it eventually becomes so ridiculous that the degree to which you have to suspend your disbelief is beyond your willingness. While 5E fixed a lot of those problems, it still has some elements where characters become superheros, more or less, at higher levels. This is a much bigger issue in 4E and 3E where I've heard DM's complain about how parties could kill Orcus in three rounds without loosing a single character. Even lower level characters have no fear of villagers in the more recent games where an OD&D character could be taken out by a tavern wench with a rolling pin.

I don't know if this is just me being a cranky middle aged dude telling the kids to get off my lawn but it seems like there is some room for RPG's where the scale is more focused on what ever is important to a small group of characters. The superhero PC's don't have to save the world from CHAOS every campaign. Campaigns of smaller scale and smaller scope have plenty of interesting events that PC's can become extremely important without blowing up the setting. So hey WoTC, lay off the EXTREME!


Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "RHC" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

Psychic Powers are Ur-Magic
(or: one thing Rifts got very right!)


My thesis for this article is that psionic or psychic powers are a kind of Ur-Magic.  That is; creating an effect with only the power of your mind is a primal way to change the world.  This idea is the stone that lays the foundation for the majority of fantasy magic.

Most systems of magic in gaming share this core idea.  Magic in the Rifts setting is an excellent example of how to state this idea expressly and clearly.

Magic in Rifts is basically a variation on spell points.  It's a common reaction against the Vancian magic of previous games like D&D.  Points make things easier to track with a simple system of numbers instead of reams of paper and charts. The thing that interests me is the underlying explanation for those points.   The P.P.E. point system is a very direct explanation of how psychic power is the source of all magic.

I will take a brief look at a few other examples of this idea from popular culture before diving into why I think Rifts got it very right.  

Harry Potter

The Harry Potter series is probably the most widely popular example of fantasy magic to date.  The ideas that proliferate the series are not particularly original.  Witches fly on brooms, dragons breathe fire, and evil wizards wear black robes and serve a dark master.   Not ground breaking stuff, there.  The execution of those ideas is easy to get across because they are culturally familiar.

The example I want to illuminate for the thesis of this exercise is the source of a wizard's magic. Fully fledged wizards in that world all cast spells using wands, gestures, and incantations, but under that performative fluff is a core of willpower.  Take a look at the first descriptions of Harry using magic, from chapter two of the first book:  

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.
His anxiety at being humiliated manifested in a magical effect.  There is no incanting, gesturing, or wand flicking.  His will is brought to bear on the situation he wants changed, and reality changes under that power.

A sign of exceptionally powerful wizards, is that they eventually come full circle.  Dumbledore is shown casting spells without use of a wand a couple of times.  For lesser wizards, losing a wand prevents them from performing magic altogether.  I would argue that this indicates a stronger connection to the psychic Ur-Magic that is a source of their reality bending powers. 

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You can see this idea permeate all sorts of popular depictions of magic or psychic power.   

In Star Wars the application of will is what gives more power to those individuals who can use The Force.  The scene where Yoda lifts the X-Wing from the swamp shows this exact thing.   Yoda has sufficient belief that his will can lift the spaceship from the muck whereas his student's mind was blocked by doubt.

Stephen King's "Carrie" also works this way.   Carrie White's psychic outbursts are more pronounced (and ultimately combustible) in direct proportion to the exertion of her will.  The application of greater mental force creates larger catastrophic effects.

Dungeons and Dragons psychic abilities sometimes use the exact mechanics of some spells.  In some versions of the game spellcasters can gain the ability to cast spells wordlessly using thought and gesture, or purely verbally without gesture or materials.  Closer to the pure psychic power of Ur-Magic.

Looking at one of the crunchier parts of the rules in 4E Dungeons and Dragons illustrates this single source, too.  Dispel Magic in fourth edition dispels effects based on their keywords instead of their source of origin.  It doesn't differentiate between a psychic effect and a magical one.  I would argue that this is because they both alter the world away from the mundane in the same way.

In the Dragon Age video games, it is dispelled in a similar way.  Templar characters can dispel magical effects by using a sort of reverse-magic.  They channel their will to assert reality in the face of magic, thereby turning it off.

White Wolf's magic:
There are a few different systems for magical powers in the various games that make up the World of Darkness.   Taking a brief look at three of them will show a continuum running from unfettered and free form powers on one end, to structured powers with specific expressions on the other.  
1.  Vampire    
Vampire is the most successful game from the World of Darkness.  The magical powers that vampires possess are all very specific.  Each power draws its source from Prime energy that is stored in the blood.  Each effect costs a certain amounts of blood points, and the effects progress in set increments.  Each increment has a proscribed list of what exactly it can do.   This is magic with the most levels of interference between the psychic power of pure will, and the expression of reality warping effects.

Those levels of interference make it easily gameable.  Filling in bubble sheets, tracking the points, and refilling your power reserves on yet another random hobo are all easy to track. It ultimately makes for a game that is easy to play.

2.  Mage 
One step removed from Vampire, is Mage.   In the magic system for Mage things are less codified, it is more malleable and the effects are open ended. 
"Reality is a work in progress; constant change keeps the universe alive.  Magick is the most dynamic example of change - the alteration of reality by enlightened force of will."  (Mage: The Ascension, Core Rule Book pg.6)
Each power still costs a certain amount of Quintessence (also called Tass), but the desired effects are not from a list. Instead the wizard makes them up on the spot from a range of Spheres they can influence. The description of Quintessence as the source of magic is described somewhat nebulously, but it is still communicated in terms of will or emotion.
"Most views regard Quintessence as an ever-fluctuating pool from which all creation arises and returns.  As a basic "life-force," it is often gathered by events of great passion and colored by those same emotions.  Sharper students realize that this means Awakened Ones are their own best source of Quintessence, with their Avatars providing the internal wellspring." (Ch.4, Pg.65)
Mage is tougher to play than a system of easy points and lists like Vampire or Rifts offers, but it has more flexibility once you know your way around the mechanics.

3.  Wraith 
Wraith: The Oblivion takes this idea and cranks it all the way up.  It was the least commercially successful game that White Wolf published.  It is the most difficult game to play or run, and it is also the closest thing to a representation of psychic Ur-Magic in the World of Darkness systems.   
In Wraith, players take on the aspect of a ghost with unresolved emotional issues (called Fetters).  They play through the game's goals to gain Passion points (called Pathos) to fuel their abilities.  They then use this magic to reach across from the afterlife and affect the physical world.  Ultimately the goal is to resolve the emotional Fetter that is keeping them from passing on.  Everything in the game revolves around emotional role playing, and applying the character's will to create the game's effects.  The playing field is almost entirely removed from the familiar physical world, and it this makes it much harder to gameify than any of the other systems.

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Rifts got it very right! 
(This includes a rehash of some Rifts basics, for those readers who may be unfamilliar with it, so bear with me if you're an old pro)

The point system that Rifts uses for its magic is called P.P.E., or Potential Psychic Energy.  It does exactly what it says on the label.
"PPE is the fuel that makes magic spells possible. In the past, nobody contained enough PPE within a single person to invoke it into a spell, but with the coming of the Rifts, vast amounts of Psychic Energy flood the earth, making it a readily available resource for those who can control it."
PPE is blatantly and directly emotional psychic energy.   The post-apocalyptic setting for Rifts is the explanation for where magic came from, and why the eponymous Rifts themselves are ripping open space.   

The short of it goes like this: 
Nukes fell, people died in agony, their collective psychic energy erupted all at once.  This activated the dormant Ley Lines around the world, which triggered cataclysms and tore open Rifts.  Those in turn killed more people, which released more PPE, and so on... and that was the apocalypse.

It has codified magic into a physical energy.   The Ley Lines even glow bright blue with it when seen at night. This power is harnessed and stored by spell casters inside their bodies, and they have a reserve of it that replenishes and grows as they train their wills.

It's easily gameable, it's quick to learn, and it communicates exactly the Ur-magic nature of mental power.

The psionic powers in Rifts work almost identically to the magical ones.   They use the same layout for psychic powers that they do for magic spells.   They have specific things they can do, unlike the vague Spheres in Mage.  Psionics advance much the same as spell casters, they have a parallel points system called ISP (Inner Strength Points) The two types of points are even largely interchangeable.  Psychic characters can power a wizard's magic devices with their ISP, though at double the cost.

Ur-Magic is an inversion of the worldview created by science.   No matter how hard you actually think at your teacup, it will not heat up.  No magical Force will enable your will to levitate your coffee mug above your desk.  But, in the fantasies we play, the Ur-magic powers bend the world in the same way.  Things blow up, reality bends, and the game is more fun than the mundane world we usually inhabit.
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Sunday, April 3, 2016

Maze Preview+Revelation in Lovecraft vs Annotated Tomb of Horrors




First--here's another Maze of the Blue Medusa preview:

Click to enlarge and...SPOILERS!



Second, here is a pair of entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.
If you're new to the contest, it's like this: these two essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write something interesting and original about hoary old RPG topics.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the second round Thought Eater essays are up...


The rules for the second round are here.

First One


If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "MAJ" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.



OK, so horror in H.P. Lovecraft's fiction comes from the revelation that things are not like you thought they were. Often – in the most famous stories – this is specifically the idea that humankind is merely a tiny speck in an infinite, uncaring – heck, possibly malicious – cosmos. Everyone's heard that; it's kind of the stock explanation of how Lovecraftian cosmic horror works. In many other stories, it comes from the idea that the main character is not who he thought he was. Specifically, in Lovecraft's fiction, it often comes from the idea that the main character's ancestry or history is not what he thought it was. Charles Dexter Ward, Shadow Over Innsmouth, The Rats in the Walls, Arthur Jermyn … you know the kind of thing. “The Shadow Out of Time” combines both themes in a way.


Now, this idea of being annihilated by having your history or group identity undermined is one that clearly resonated very strongly with Lovecraft himself. If you read about him, you can see why: “Take a man from the fields and groves which bred him—or which moulded the lives of his forefathers—and you cut off his sources of power altogether.” He wrote that in 1927, and in 1934 he said “We must save all that we can, lest we find ourselves adrift in an alien world with no memories or guideposts or points of reference to give us the priceless illusions of direction, interest, & significance amidst the cosmic chaos. Hence the natural function & social value of the antiquarian & cherisher of elder things.”

So rather than being impersonal, Lovecraft's cosmic horror is actually very personal, because to him your history is a big part of you – even if that's the history of your city, your race, whatever. That combination of the personal and the cosmic is an often-overlooked part of Lovecraft.

How do you use this kind of history-undermining or group-undermining in a game? The unfortunate thing about applying this to Call of Cthulhu is that most people don't create their CoC characters with those kind of deep ties to a group – like most modern people, and like characters in many other games, they tend to be pretty atomised, pretty individual. You can't really attack their sense of stability by revealing the secret history of humanity, since thinking that's pretty cool is implicit in sitting down to the table to play CoC in the first place. It's hard to attack the group, as opposed to individual, identity of player characters in these games – in the same way that it's hard to do that to most (but not all) modern westerners.

But I've been thinking that this does in fact apply to characters in a lot of other games. In fact, ironically, it applies to them much more than it does to characters in games that are specifically Lovecraftian. In many games, character creation is all about selecting group memberships, and there are lot of people out there who make it a habit to play Ventrue, or Orlanthi, or mutants, or Drow, or whatever. You might actually be able to get some mileage out of the history-annihilating thing by attacking those, especially if you keep the secret actually secret and don't make it part of the appeal of the character. Some people like to join groups with a dark heritage, but if someone's really proud of their sparkly eyes or elite battle skills you can probably get a little queasy realisation by revealing that their blessing is actually a curse.

That's not for everyone, of course; some people like the rug pulled out from under them and others don't. You might just piss them off. But that's the risk you take when you go for an actual shocking realisation.
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Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "UAP" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.

The Annotated Adventure

Published D&D modules are typically laid out like dictionaries: dense columns of prescriptive rules, sorted by location instead of by word. They'd be more useful if they were designed more like annotated texts (text body in one column, commentary in the other). When there's no spatial way to organize room descriptions, they become untidy with digressions, commentary, and rulings on potential player actions. The important and the unimportant, the obvious and the hidden are necessarily jumbled together. 

Tomb of Horrors is famous for being a player-killer dungeon, but with its info-dump approach to tricks and puzzles, it's a bit of a DM-killer too. Take the final confrontation with Acererak. It takes up a full two-column page, and you don't get Acererak's stats until the bottom of the second column, after a description of his treasure, an out-of-place history of the Tomb, and the details of every other trick in the room. Furthermore, this monolithic wall of text gives the false impression that everything in the description merits the same level of authority. As others have remarked before, many of the methods used to damage Acererak (a haphazard list of spells, certain magic swords, a thief slinging gemstones) feel like on-the-spot rulings during a playtest, encoded by the author into rules law. There's no reason why clever players shouldn't invent new attacks and add their own exploits to this list, which should be presented as a sort of Talmudic commentary to the module's scripture that "Acererak is nearly invulnerable."


What would an annotated adventure module look like?

The main column would be primarily concerned with objects: the room and its description, its contents, its occupants, immediate traps, and other information that the DM needs up front. Objects in boldface would have  annotations next to them.

Next to each boldfaced object would be its verbs: a non-exhaustive menu of things the players might do and what happens in response. Here is where we'd move all the minor but necessary mechanical details that clog up room descriptions: the tricks, traps, and secrets that players find by messing with stuff in the room. If a player touches Acererak's skull, the DM doesn't have to search the whole page; just find the bold-faced "Acererak" in the main column and scan its annotation.

Annotations can't possibly be comprehensive and don't even have to be authoritative. They might include traps and puzzle solutions, described in the standard impersonal rulesy voice, as well as conversational anecdotes about crazy things that happened in the author's home game. After all, half of every adventure is written during play; the module author doesn't need to obfuscate that fact. 

As a proof of concept, I'll try setting up the Acererak room as one annotated page. While I'm reformatting, I'd like to fix a few other things that bug me about D&D module layout:

Space for DM annotations. A D&D module isn't a collector's item to be preserved mint, and an adventure location isn't static. PCs change every room they enter. The DM should have somewhere to record these state changes. For instance, there should always be space below a monster's stat block to track HP. If the players befriend the monster instead of fighting it, the DM can use this space to record details of that alliance. (Chances of befriending Acererak are low, but never rule anything out.) Furthermore, many DMs don't run modules as written. They make lots of notes before ever running the adventure. A densely printed page doesn't leave a lot of room for this kind of marginalia. An annotated module, with uneven amounts of text in the right and left column, will probably have lots of white space. That's a plus. 

In the case of Acererak's vault, we're going to have very little room for DM notes, because the original layout is already a full page with no white space or margins to speak of. But we should be able to carve out some room to track Acererak's and his pet ghost's HP. Furthermore, the vault's treasure includes a potentially large amount of gear stolen from players in various teleportation traps. We have to add a place for the DM to list this gear.

Artwork. Tomb of Horrors has many pages of player handouts, two of which are referred to on this page. The reference to any player handout should include a thumbnail for the benefit of the DM.

Here's my version of Acererak's Vault, with significant text changes in red.

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Saturday, April 2, 2016

Tolkien As Bad GM vs The German Illustrator (Thought Eater)

Here is a pair of entries for the Thought Eater DIY RPG Essay Tournament.

If you're new to the contest, it's like this: these two essays are not by me--they're by a pair of anonymous DIY RPG writers who were both assigned to write something interesting and original about hoary old RPG topics.

Anybody reading is eligible to vote for which one you like best and voting will be cut off once all the votes for all the second round Thought Eater essays are up...



The rules for the second round are here.

First One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "ETS" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.


Reading Tolkien Is Like Gaming With A Bad GM

My first attempt to read Tolkien was in middle school, when I read the first book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I didn’t want to finish it, but I’d picked it for a book report or something and by the time I realized I didn’t like it, it was too late to switch to something else. A few years later, I read The Hobbit and really enjoyed it. I decided maybe I was just too young the first time around, and started the trilogy again. This time I got about halfway through the second book before deciding The Hobbit was an anomaly and giving up on Middle Earth. Many years later, the movies were announced and I decided that if the guy who made Dead Alive and Meet the Feebles was willing to dedica te the better part of a decade to these books, I needed to give them another try. Once again, I made it about halfway through the second book before getting bored with it. 

The Middle Earth books have good characters, a good story, and a richly-detailed setting, but I  just can’t get through them. Part of the problem is Tolkien’s writing style. I tend to prefer writers who embrace Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language,” so Tolkien’s overwritten prose just isn’t my thing. To his credit, at least Tolkien uses one unit of well-written (if overwrought) prose to describe one thing or aspect of a thing rather than spewing a bunch of repetitive nonsense in the apparent belief that the more words you use, the smarter you are. I gave up on Game of Thrones when I hit a sentence that used three adjectives, a couple of adverbs, two similes, and a handful of metaphors so inapplicable even Dan Brown wouldn’t try to pass them off as legitimate that each informed me that blood was red. Tolkien’s writing style is kind of pretentious, but at least it’s not bad writing. 

While Tolkien’s writing isn’t my bag, the reason reading his books is like gaming with a bad GM is that he had a tendency to tell rather than show. You don’t feel like you’re reading an adventure story, you feel like you’re reading a history textbook or a series of encyclopedia entries. There’s no momentum to the story. The same thing happens in a bad game, but in a different format. You burst through the door, sword in hand ready to bash some orc...and then you have to stop and wait for the GM to read a purple-prose-filled description from a grey box in the module (or worse, his own bad writing), often in a droning monotone. Or you spend an entire contrived scene dealing with a cha racter, landmark, or other game world artifact that adds little or nothing to the story but is shoehorned into the session because the GM (or whoever wrote the supplement) created it and by God it’s going to show up in the story. Or the game grinds to a halt for 20 minutes while the GM looks through his notes for some detail nobody cares about. Or the GM (especially during character creation) tells you “you can’t do that” for some obscure game-world reason. 

Basically, my problem with Tolkien is that Middle Earth is so over-designed that he spends more time telling the reader about the world than telling them the story. The Tolkien school of over-design, which has been embraced by most gamers, tells you that more detail means a better world, but in my experience it’s more likely to slow the adventure to a crawl, limit character options, and bore the players with minutia. It’s not the quantity of details that’s important, it’s the quality. A few telling details that help the players (or readers) visualize and understand the flavor of a place will make it seem more alive than a whole book full of detailed information about its system of gover nment, imports and exports, demographics, and history and telling them who would play an NPC in the movie gives them a better sense of the character than giving them a Wikipedia-style entry. The players need a few details they can latch onto, not huge piles of data that make their eyes glaze over.   

Another problem I’ve seen with overly designed worlds, especially in games, is that when someone puts that much time and effort into something, they don’t like other people breaking it. As a result, the players may feel railroaded because the GM resists any course of action that might cause a major upheaval that isn’t part of the storyline the GM planned for. If the players do manage to change the status quo, the GM immediately goes into damage control mode to contrive ways of returning everything back to the way it was (or as close to it as possible). 

You can really see the Tolkien’s over-design when you compare him to someone  like Robert E. Howard. When Tolkien mentions some far-away place, he usually gives you a lot of detail that’s mostly irrelevant to the current scene or story. By the time he gets back to the action, you’ve forgotten what was happening. When Howard mentions some faraway place, he may give you a short and evocative description, but then it’s right back to Conan and his mighty thews. The reader only learns more when and if Conan ends up there, or when more information is needed to move the plot along. This difference is in part due to economics: Tolkien was a well-off Oxford professor, so he had plenty of time t o spend designing his world. Howard was grinding out stories to pay the rent, so he didn’t have the luxury of wasting on unnecessary world building. The unintentional result is that Tolkien’s world feels like a museum where you can look at exhibits and hear lectures, while Howard’s feels like a living world full of mystery and adventure. 

A few years ago, some friends and I were talking about the difference between Tolkien-style fantasy and American fantasy. During the conversation, I mentioned my theory that Tolkien’s meticulous world design actually detracted from his stories and that part of the appeal of the pulp stories is the sense that so much of the world is unknown and therefore full of potential. The conversation led to a pick-up sword & sorcery game that turned into an occasional ongoing campaign (we’re spread out over several states and have conflicting schedules that so far haven’t allowed us to play online). In part to test my theory and in part because it made taking turns as GM easier, we decided that a ll world design had to happen “on-screen.” You can brainstorm all you want, but nothing’s cannon until the characters encounter it themselves during a session. We’ve only played the game a handful of times, but since everyone’s still excited about the game despite the long (sometimes a year or more) hiatuses between sessions, it seems to be working. The things we know about the world wouldn’t come close to filling a typical D&D sourcebook, but the things we don’t know about the world are infinite, and those are the parts we can’t wait to discover. 


Second One

If you like this one better, send an email with the Subject "REH
" to zakzsmith AT hawt mayle. Don't put anything else in the email, I won't read it.


“Say something original about any RPG illustrator” is one of the subjects of the second round of the thought eater essay contest. I call Patrick and ask him if I can come over to talk to him about his work. He says he has too much to do, he needs to fix his brother’s computer, do a poster for a filipino film festival and whatnot. He adds that he has founded a company half a year ago, turning board games into apps and that I can’t imagine how much work that is. After we talk on the phone for an hour, he invites me to come and see him anyway.

No matter when you call him, Patrick is overworked. When he started out as an illustrator and layouter for small German RPG companies, we met a couple of times to play 40K on his carpet, using tooth brushes to represent Tyranid Lictors and shoe boxes for buildings. A cool thing about Patrick is that he has a film playing in his head, when most people are trying to figure out how the rules work. In those days he consumed nothing but a bowl of rice and a bottle of beer a day to save money and he tried not to sleep too much to work more. Once, he got up at 6 on a Monday morning, after working till 4 because of some deadline, and immediately did some pushups. He collapsed and had to creep to the telephone to call a doctor. The doctor said: “You need more free time. Do you have a hobby?” Then we started to play 40K a lot. Of course, Patrick got a bit obsessive about it, painting the same miniatures over and over again and planning extensive campaigns we never played. I remember, he tried to persuade me once to paint a whole chaos space marine army over the weekend. Eventually we stopped playing 40K.

Writing this essay isn’t easy. “Original” and “interesting” are not my main concerns. I think nobody wrote about Patrick before. In general, writing about another person, especially about an old friend should be done with some respect. My problem is, I always see the funny side of things, and Patrick does not like this, I’m afraid. Humour is a disrespectful thing and Patrick has high moral standards. Once he complained that I do “slapstick routines” of other people. That’s not true, but I know what he means. Also Patrick easily feels misunderstood and offended. We had endless discussions playing 40K. About how many terminators can leave a rhino in one round or if Wall Street is an evil place or not.

I’m at his house for about an hour, watching him repair his brother’s computer. Then his brother leaves to fetch some food and we sit down and talk. “Did you write down any questions?”, he asks. “No. No.” We talk about his work. He says in Germany RPG illustrators are not well paid. If you want to do this, you often compete against people drawing ghouls and fairies as a side job or hobby, and if illustrators are really good, they stop working for German companies and start working for international ones. “There are RPG illustrators who draw day and night. They kick ass. They are like a machete. I’m not one of them. I’m a Swiss army knife. I can do a lot of things. If detailed wood carving is required, I’m the man you are looking for.”

He shows me a book he did the layout for. He is proud of the result, but complains about the process. Apparently he got into a fight about his payment with the publisher. “Did you draw this dwarf?”, I ask. “No.” He shows me some illustrations on the side of the pages, some dice, a weapon. “I did this. And this and this.” “Do you still do illustrations as private commissions? For people who need a picture of their character?” “Yes. I like to do that. It’s not well paid either. But I can try out new techniques. Grow.” “How much do you take for a picture?” “45€”

I ask Patrick: “Do you think fantasy illustrations can be original?”

I’m thinking: Maybe the emphasis on “original” is an American thing. The idea that you can discover a new land, the great planes of the West, moon and mars. In Europe every stone has been turned around a thousand times.

Patrick says, you could call the shift from simple black and white drawings in early RPG books to coloured realistic illustrations in recent publications “original”. Now realism becomes more and more important, he adds.

I’m thinking: Why is that so? How can realism be important, depicting things that do not exist outside our heads?

Patrick: “All good fantasy illustrators can draw realistic pictures of human beings in different dynamic heroic poses. What makes one better than the other is the background.” “The background? You mean, the world they create?” “Yes”, he says.

I show him A RED & PLEASANT LAND by Zak Smith. It’s an awkward moment. Patrick knows that I like the book and I know that he doesn’t. And he knows that I know that. I ask: “Do you think this is original?” The question feels like a trap. He says: “No. It’s retro.” He says something about “künstlerische Bohème”. I have no idea what he means. He asks how popular the book is. “It won 4 ENnie awards.” “I have never heard about the ENnie awards.” “They are very important RPG industry awards, I guess. Also, Zak Smith was one of the advisors for the new edition of D&D.” “Sometimes people get into positions like that because of their popularity in social media networks”, Patrick says. This doesn’t lead anywhere. Patrick is in his fight mode now. He can’t accept that somebody, whose work he doesn’t like, can still be very successful.

I try something else. We are on his balcony now. Patrick smokes a cigarette. I say: “When I worked as a second assistant for a theatre director in Frankfurt who was an asshole, screaming at people for making little mistakes, no, not even mistakes, for opening a door during rehearsal, I went to a cinema near the train station and watched PULP FICTION and was blown off my seat. I had never seen anything like it. Did you ever feel like that looking at the work of any RPG illustrator?” Patrick goes back inside, to his bookshelf, and brings the book DEGENESIS by Christian Günther and Marko Djurdjevic. “Yes. This book. Take a look at it. Man, I’m sorry. I think I have to help my brother finish fixing his computer now.” “Yes, of course. It’s late. You know, I always respected you a lot because you never gave up your dreams.” “But I did give up my dreams.” “You worked for the biggest German tabletop and RPG companies. And you seem to be more clear about your work now. You always wanted to be in charge of things. You even wanted to be the boss, when we played 40K, and now you have your own company.” He lights another cigarette. He says: “In political discussions with your cousin, you sometimes thought I was stupid, because my ideas are unpopular. I have talked a lot about these things with my father and other people, I have informed myself, about conspiracy theories and such things. This gives me a lot of self-confidence.” “Ok.” “Do me a favour. Please don’t mention my name or what companies I worked for.” “Ok. Why?” “That’s better. You can make stuff up.” “You want me to write a realistic essay about an imaginary fantasy illustrator?” “Yes.” “Can I call you Patrick?” “Yes.”

While Patrick is deleting files on his brother’s computer, I sit in the other room and flick through DEGENESIS and the latest edition of DAS SCHWARZE AUGE which looks a bit like a low budget copy of D&D. That’s the problem with German pop culture. It always imitates its big brother. I look at all kinds of creatures called Katzenhexe, Krötenhexe, Rabenhexe, Gindos, der hundsköpfige Tod and Dushani, die Stimme der Fäulnis. In my head I go through the things Patrick has said: “A game like DAS SCHWARZE AUGE has more depth than D&D, but the rules are not streamlined, too complicated. These days, people buy it out of nostalgia, without ever playing it.” I remember a discussion we once had about how the 40K ruleset has more depth than PIRATES! by Flagship Games. Depth? What the fuck?

Before I leave, Patrick’s brother says: “I hope I didn’t take too much time away from what you wanted to do with Patrick.” “No, actually, I took your time. Patrick wanted to repair your computer. I’m sorry.”
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