Classic Priming

It's been nearly a week since my last three posts, and I've been using my (little) free time since then to think about my "theme" and just exactly what I want to write. It's tough, because there's a lot going on in there "world" of D&D gaming.

Hold that thought.

First, let's start with someone else's blog. If you haven't read The Retired Adventurer's essay Six Cultures of Play, you really should. I've read it multiple times over the last couple months, trying to absorb it; yesterday, I listened to a podcast reading of the essay (while doing household chores), and feel like I've got an even better grasp of these concepts...trying to see how they fit with my own experiences AND those reports from others that I've read about. With regard to Dungeons & Dragons, two thoughts keep drumming in my brain when I consider the development/evolution of role-playing:

1. Is it too late to close the barn door?
2. Should I even be worried about the escaped horse?

I know several, very respectable minds who would say the answer to #2 is a definitive NO, and thus #1 isn't even worth bothering about. This is the mindset of, "hey, I have my game, I'll run it how I want, and everyone else can go to hell." Other, less respectable, minds feel the same way...or at least reach the same conclusion: "it is what it is," they say.

And, yes, there are folks who just want to find a way to make money off whichever way the wind happens to be blowing. A war profiteer can sell guns to both sides of a conflict, after all.

But I am a jackass. And I have made a bit of a rep for myself railing against (and failing to accept) just "what is." Shouting in the darkness is pretty much what I do...so let's fucking go!

In recent days, I have come to the conclusion that there is only ONE TRUE edition of Dungeons & Dragons. This is, of course, patently and provably false, as any gamer with half a brain can tell you: people of all stripes continue to play every edition (and variant) ever published (by my count: about 13) IN ADDITION TO two dozen or more various hacks, heartbreakers, retro-clones, and homages. Yes, I agree...I am an f'ing idiot to make such a statement.

There is only ONE TRUE (published) edition of Dungeons & Dragons. Yes, I suck and I'm wrong, and I can feel the rotten fruit and garbage folks are pelting me with, even as I write this. And the HATE...the venomous hatred that folks will have for hearing me say such a dastardly thing. Because I'm guessing a lot of folks (well, my readers anyway) know in their heart of hearts the truth (or suspect the truth) of my statement, and it won't necessarily sit well with them for a VARIETY of reasons. And the harder that sits with you, the more pushback and resentment and hatred I expect to receive. 

[maybe some puzzlement, too...but those folks have been puzzled throughout this series. I have an inkling of WHY that is, but I don't want to address it...not in this post, anyway]

So, go ahead, say it with me. You all know what the "one true edition" of D&D is, don't you? I don't even need to write it (though I will), because for anyone who's reading this blog post, there's probably a particular image of a particular edition that comes to mind when one hears the term "Dungeons & Dragons," a color illustration that (for whatever reason) is thoroughly branded in your brain in association with the game. Probably. I'd guess at least 90%. Even if the image has NOTHING to do with the edition (or game) that you currently play/run.

AD&D. The "first" edition. Gygax's opus. That's the one: the one true game. 

Not OD&D (all respect to Arneson's legacy and Rob Kuntz's opinion...yes, I've read your book). The original books were a proto-game, something in it's formative stages, an add-on to Chainmail, a rules-ifying of Braunstein. Not B/X (although that's still the best introduction to learning/teaching the game) nor any of the other "basic" versions. And definitely not Cook's cleaned-up 2E or any of the later, innovated versions. Certainly not the currently published 5E which (in my opinion) makes a mockery of earlier systems with its attempt to compromise on all fronts. 

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, that hoary, draconian, curmudgeonly trilogy of tomes (DMG, PHB, MM) crystalized the "system" first begun with three Little Brown Books...three books that were so woefully incomplete that they led to half a dozen supplementary volumes and countless variations of The Game across college campuses in the U.S. and military bases throughout the world. AD&D by itself...with no additional volumes necessary...was whole and complete. Everything else added later...the Fiend Folio, Deities & Demigods, Unearthed Arcana, Dungeoneer's Survival Guide, etc....were at best ICING and, at worse, blatant ca$h grabs. Whether you like them or not (I like several), ALL are superfluous to the game. Many do more to BREAK the game's function than actually aiding it.

*exhale*

It is not a perfect game...there are few (if any) games that ARE perfect. It has inconsistencies and missteps. Polymorphing undead. Alignment language. Sex-based limitations on ability scores. Color spray. Many examples abound...nearly all are eminently correctable without destroying functionality (i.e. without breaking the game). And while not perfect...and definitely a tad on the "complex" side...it is a wonderful game. Extremely playable. Incredibly enjoyable. My favorite game of all time, and one of the greatest games ever created.

And one of the most misunderstood.

And I'm not talking "misunderstood" because of inherent misogyny or colonialist attitudes or whatever. The misunderstanding I'm talking about is How To Play The Game and What The Game Is About...basic foundational pieces of game play, in other words. Part of this is due to ineptitude on the part of the author (Gygax). Part of this is due to a grandfathered community of OD&D gamers already playing with wide variation prior to AD&D's publication. Part of this is due to new entrants to the hobby, coming in with incoherent ideas of what D&D play IS and not being disabused of their notions by a publishing company (under ANY banner or ownership group) whose aim has been and continues to be turn a profit from this "thing" (Dungeons & Dragons) that we don't quite understand ourselves. 

John Bell's essay (cited at the beginning of this post) fails to address it within any single one of his "six cultures of play," but of the six it is the Classic model that comes closest, specifically with this line:

The point of playing the game in classic play is not to tell a story (tho' it's fine if you do), but rather the focus of play is coping with challenges and threats that smoothly escalate in scope and power as the PCs rise in level.

[emphasis added by me, as usual]

Bell may have been more accurate in stating that "classic" play is not meant to "tell a story" in the same way as a trad, neo-trad, or "story gamer" tells a story, but the point of play is NOT limited to wandering around (and blundering into) challenges of proportionately increasing progression. D&D, as played in the proper style, is not a video game, and does not operate under the assumptions of video game play. Or rather, it has SOME similarity to...generally older...computer RPGs (here I'll cite The Bard's Tale and SSI's Phantasie III: The Wrath of Nikademus) which took their cues from Dungeons & Dragons, but which were limited by their particular medium...namely, the requirement of being finite and requiring an endpoint to their "story."

Correct play of D&D (and, yes, again, throw your tomatoes at me and insert your own air quotes every time I write "correct") involves the telling of not one but THREE stories, only two of which matter much, and NONE of which require any sort of "emotional satisfaction" from an unfolding narrative structure. These are:

1. The Setting Background
2. The PCs Actions
3. The Campaign's Development

The setting background is all the DM-facing stuff that goes into preparation before the game is played. It is the creation and outlining of lands and power structures, determining the whys and wherefores of any dungeons, "histories" of the world, thoughts on why monsters exist, and conceptualizing how magic functions. It's all the various bits and pieces of "fluff" that the DM must add to make a setting suitable for running a D&D game; it can be amorphous or specific or gradually built-up over many sessions of gaming. It can be based on real world stuff, fiction novels or film, or anything else. This particular story matters far less to the players than the Dungeon Master, as "sensibility" of a setting is only a secondary concern compared to the action at the table, assuming the DM is competent at their craft (i.e. if the players are more thrilled discussing the setting's background than "what's going on" in play, then there's a major issue with the DM's ability to generate engagement).

The second story being told, and the one of most immediate concern for everyone at the table, is the story of the player characters' actions. This is game play itself and (as I've written before) it should have all the narrative structure and theming of a really crazy camping trip...which is to say: not much. It is simply the story of what the PCs did during any particular game session. It is not concerned with PC backstories or drama, it is concerned with ACTIONS. Was there a fight? Was a dungeon explored? Did anyone die? Was there a really noteworthy victory won? Was a PC transformed into something "unnatural?" Was the shopkeeper a surly cuss? Did the goblins become unexpected allies? Etc. D&D, correctly played, provides player engagement in the moment because of the circumstances of the game, not because of any "meaningful constructed narrative." And it is that player engagement that leads to emotional investment of a much deeper sort than one pre-constructed prior to play.

The final story being told over the course of a true and proper D&D game is that of the campaign's development. This is the story...the legacy really...of a DM's setting/world after having been met by the players. As in real life, no one knows when the game begins just who will end up being the hero, who will be the goat, who is destined to die in tragic (or humorous) fashion or how the history of the campaign world will be written. Depending on the length of the campaign being played, the setting may be RADICALLY changed over time, with kingdoms rising and falling, regions getting "nuked" with magic or monsters, old dungeons being cleaned out, and new dungeons being discovered...not to mention all the failures and successes along a path littered with the corpses of dead (and raised and re-killed) adventurers. By the end of such a campaign...IF it ends...a common theme may be discovered, but just as likely one may find an interesting "world history" featuring the antics of many important (player character) individuals of a minor or major impact.

The problem with "classic" play as defined by Bell...and ONE of the reasons behind the shift to "trad" play...is when imagination and/or effort on the part of the Dungeon Master fails the players at the table. When there is NO engagement, because the world is too simplistic, boring, undefined, unrealized...when the game is nothing but a scaled up version of the Dungeon! board game, then yes, players will try to find their OWN methods of having fun, creating dramatic backgrounds to spice up a bland setting, inventing funny voices and quirky personalities for bland avatars that represent nothing more than a collection of numbers scribbled on paper. Gygax himself recognized this and wrote about in his section The Ongoing Campaign (DMG, p. 112):

"...there must be some purpose to it all. There must be some backdrop against which adventures are carried out, and no matter how tenuous the strands, some web which connects the evil and the good, the opposing powers, the rival states and various peoples. This need not be evident at first, but as play continues, hints should be given to players, and their characters should become involved in the interaction and struggle between these vaster entities. Thus, characters begin as less than pawns, but as they progress in expertise, each eventually realizes that he or she is a meaningful, if lowly, piece in the cosmic game being conducted. When this occurs, players then have a dual purpose to their play...their actions having meaning above and beyond personal aggrandizement."

"Classic" play is thus NOT limited to "challenge-based play," solely for the sake of progressing to fighting bigger monsters with larger treasure hoards. Good play on the part of players does lead to advancement, earning them the right and (hopefully) ability to take on such challenges, but this isn't the endgame of play itself...not by a long shot!

Likewise, please note that Gygax's text is NOT relating to the establishment of domains and strongholds. As he writes in the paragraph just preceding: "...even your most dedicated players will occasionally find that dungeon levels and wilderness castles grow stale, regardless of subtle differences and unusual challenges." He is talking about sustaining campaigns through something more, in order to stave off "participant attrition" and "enthusiast ennui." The complete game...as envisioned by Gygax and codified in his AD&D tomes...was supposed to be more than that.

What is was never supposed to be, though, was what it would become after his ouster from the company in 1986. Every iteration has of the game since Gygax closed his formulation of the DMG (circa 1979), every variant...even Gygax's own!...have taken the game farther and farther away from the fashion in which it was meant to be played. This drift in the game's design parameters cannot entirely be laid at the feet of the publisher, of course (more on that in a second), but it is the publishers (TSR, WotC, Hasbro, etc.) who ultimately bear responsibility for how the game is played. Only the publisher, as owner and caretaker, have real authority and influence over the customer base.

And the current publishers have, largely, abdicated their responsibility, instead focusing on marketing and selling their brand. "Have fun! Make the game what you want!" they say [so long as you continue to put money in our pocket...that's the unspoken bit]. Consider this: if they ACTUALLY came down and said "this is the way you're supposed to play D&D" would there be the confusion and arguments and misinformation about the game being spread far and wide on Ye Old Internets? Would there be blogs and talking heads decrying one edition or another? Would there be youngsters turning to Matt Mercer when trying to figure out HOW one is supposed to play this D&D game?

So, instead, you have people buy the game...and then abandon it on a shelf. You have people that "dabble" a bit...and then move on to other hobbies. You have enthusiasts who lose their enthusiasm...and drift into RPGs that better facilitate their priorities of game play. 

And you have a plethora of people screaming bloody murder at each other over something that should be the most amazing, innovative game ever invented!

NOW...when I write that there is only ONE TRUE edition of D&D, I'm not being facetious. Nor am I being judgmental of your particular preferred edition of play. Heck, I'm about to publish another supplement for the B/X game myself (before the end of the year, fingers crossed), so it would be great for me personally if you were open to other versions of the rules!

I'm not trying to denigrate your tastes, your style, or anything else. And I'm not saying that AD&D is a perfect game, nor that E. Gary Gygax was a perfect designer. I'm just saying it's the greatest game I've ever encountered, and Mr. Gygax was largely responsible for its best iteration. And I'd like more people to play it...and play it in the manner it was intended, which is neither "classic" nor "trad." Nor is it (generally) in the fashion of the OSR, nor of the OC/Neo-Trad school.

Right at this very moment, I have a post-it stuck to my DMG with 7 elements of "true D&D" jotted down. In a way, these elements are the things I'd like to institute as a replacement for the mythic Old School ethos I rebutted in a prior post. They are not meant to function as a new "primer"...I suspect none of my readers need such elementary instruction in D&D game play...but they are meant to "prime" the reader, as in to make ready (e.g. "prime the pump") for game play, both as a player and as a Dungeon Master.

That will be tomorrow's post, since this one has already gone long. Please feel free to post your scathing denouncements in the comments section.

Rabbit Pie

This post may be a bit "all over the place," but it's better than the alternative I was contemplating yesterday (something along the lines of a personal existential crisis which seems, mercifully, to be under control at the moment...). I'll do my best to come up with a title by the end.

SO...I was catching up on my "adventure review" reading over at Bryce's blog and stumbled across this little gem in the pile of dross he usually digs through (meaning no offense to Bryce by the way...I find his work of buying and reviewing adventures "so you don't have to" is an invaluable service to those of us interested in adventure design).

"Little gem" is probably too complimentary, for Game of Kobolds; "interesting nugget" probably should have been the term coined. What it is: a 42 page supplement of material that fleshes out the classic adventure module The Keep on the Borderlands with specifically motivated characters and factions interlinked through a complex web of relationships, providing the basis for the type of "blood opera" one might find in George Martin's Game of Thrones.

[this was the impetus for Corbett Kirkley's design; the origin of the product is described in its introduction, which I will let the interested reader dig into, rather than relate here]

[oh, BTW...it's not a "for purchase" product; you can download a copy here if you like. I'm not a scribd user, so Bryce's link doesn't work for me]

As an idea, the thing is more than just "interesting," but its execution is a little meh. My quibbles are about the same as Bryce: definitions aren't tight enough, not enough Keep characters, the timeline/fallout parts need to be elaborated upon. Furthermore, I prefer a more xenophobic brand of humanoid interaction in D&D to this mixture of "fantasy diversity" which smacks of all the kind of [insert derogatory-term-that-isn't-too-offensive-yet-communicates-disdain] found in the most recent versions of the game.

Still, it's not a terrible idea. For one thing, the scenario presented provides plenty of motivation for players' involvement, without forcing them down a particular path. For another, it presents a more unique situation than just hunting bugbear pelts or goblin skulls for reward. For a third thing, it provides a method of interacting with B2's Caves of Chaos that (hopefully) won't result in the immediate extinction of low-level player characters that so often follows from a frontal assault. For a fourth, it also provides a (slightly wonky) justification for why there's this giant horde of rando humanoid tribes living in harmony and practically on the doorstep of this fully stocked human garrison.

Even so, the idea of running it doesn't appeal (to me) very much, nor even the idea of doing a similar supplement for a different adventure like, say, the various factions found in module I1: Dwellers of the Forbidden City. The thing is, much as I enjoy Byzantine politics and Machiavellian machinations, I consider these a particular vice/component of humanity, and would confine them as such. Bugbears and bullywugs and kobolds and orcs? No. I do not look at them as allegorical or surrogate humans. Heck, I try hard not to even look at elves and dwarves as such.

This morning, the idea that dragged my sorry ass out of bed (or, rather, kept me from returning to sleep after my beagles woke me at the crack of dawn) was this idea I have for cataloguing all the OD&D/AD&D monsters so that I cull the list for the specific creatures that function in my campaign setting, especially with regard to "sentient" species. I've pretty much decided that all "goblinoids" (including kobolds up through bugbear) are going to be a single species (of various sizes), while orcs are going to be a race that was magically created, rather than natural. Some sentients (most notably elves) I plan on categorizing as "protohumans," older variations of humanity (like neanderthals) that have since disappeared or become inseparably bonded with "normal humans" through interbreeding, but in general I really want to limit the amount of creatures with above-animal intelligence.

Still not sure what I want to do with dragons: would like to make them (mostly) a vermin-like species. But then, what's the reason for the treasure hoards? Or is that just a myth ungrounded in fact?

Giving a species the ability to reason invites identification with that creature...and I don't want that. I already intend to have multiple human cultures in my setting, each with the potentials for good, evil, and indifference and of course the various human flaws (hamartia, to borrow from Game of Kobolds) that can lead to drama, intrigue, and tragedy.  The non-humans in my campaign are NOT allegorical stand-ins for other races, ethnicities, and cultures...my intention is to create them as alien cultures based on their own biological strangeness, drives, and environments. The default alignment of these non-human cultures (as I intend to use it) will be in relationship to how harmonious they are with needs and desires of human civilization...my campaign being human-centric.

Recently I started re-reading The Hobbit (for the upteenth time), because I had this idea (brought on by my encumbrance posts) of statting out the dwarvish "pony train" that initially sets out from the Shire. Unfortunately, there's little description of their actual goods to be found, save that it is "mostly food" (as one should probably expect). However, getting to the part where their ponies were eventually lost (in the Misty Mountains) I was struck by Tolkien's description of the goblins as a species, in his initial introduction of the creature. He writes in part:

"Now goblins are cruel, wicked, and hard-hearted. They make no beautiful things, but they do make clever many clever ones. They can tunnel and mine as well as any but the most skilled dwarves, when they take the trouble, though they are usually untidy and dirty. Hammers, axes, swords, daggers, pickaxes, tongs, and other instruments of torture, they make very well, or get other people to make to their design, prisoners and slaves that have to work till they die for want of air and light...they did not hate dwarves especially, no more than they hated everybody and everything, and particularly the orderly and prosperous; in some parts wicked dwarves had even made alliances with them. But they had a special grudge against Thorin's people, because of the war which you heard mentioned..."

There are two things of especial note (to me) in this description. The first is that these are fairytale creatures, more or less a shadowy version of dwarves, and not analogous to any particular human ethnicity (I left out the part about goblins taking delight in engines and explosions and ingenious machines for killing large numbers of people: inventions pioneered for the most part by Western European cultures).  The second is that despite their brutality, they are not above dealing with other races, including dwarves, with whom (in D&D literature and elsewhere) they are generally portrayed as having an entirely genocidal attitude. In fact, it is only Thorin's people in particular with whom they have an issue, due to a previous war/feud, not any fundamental inter-species hatred.

And this is born out later in the interaction between Thorin and the Great Goblin. The proud dwarf is far more humble and polite with goblin chief than in any of his interaction (later in the book) with the king of the wood elves, with whom he has no family quarrel. Of course, a conciliatory tone might be expected after being beaten and chained and at the mercy of one's captors...but the elves treat Thorin nearly as rough as he still has the gall to give the elf king snark. I personally find this fascinating.

The conversation started
politely enough.

But fascinating as it may be, it doesn't change my outlook: these are two alien species, not "fantasy human cultures." If dwarves have some type of kinship with goblins, it is due (in my world at least) due to their shared, subterranean physiology and culture, not any kind of human-like empathy and compassion for each other as fellow sentients. And with regard to the sea of humanity swimming around the foothills of these creatures mountain homes, they are BOTH a strange and eerie species...however, one rates as "lawful" for being interested in crafting useful items and doing honest trade with surface dwellers, while the other (perhaps because of their shorter lifespan and, thus, perspective) are judged "chaotic" for their raiding, slave-taking, and violent methods. And neither species has any interest in human politics except so much as it might further their (inhuman) interests.

My campaign setting isn't about creating understanding between different sentient species. It's about survival. And I already know which species will (eventually) come out on top, because my setting is 10,000 years ago in Earth's past. The individual actions of player characters can be judged for themselves, but I'm not interested in "decolonizing" my D&D game by humanizing the non-humans. If anything, I want to make sure they are MORE "othered" than recent editions would have them be, standing in for diversity against a homogeneity of Euro-type humanity.

That's not to say that I intend my setting to be all Incan and Charrua and Mayan with cloth armor and atlatl and whatnot. There's a reason I'm using a setting of 9,000 BCE and not 1550. But even within a single region, you can have a number of nations of diverse peoples with various cultures, languages, and ways of life, even with a shared "group identity." I've been watching Padma Lakshmi's Taste the Nation the last week or so and found it to be a fascinating look at my own country and the plethora of cultures sharing an "American" identity. I intend the humanity of my setting to be something like that: a society composed of many different peoples, cooperating as best they can (though sometimes failing due to past wrongs and grievances) for survival of their species.

There will be very, very few monsters (i.e. non-humans) that carry a Lawful alignment.

SO...I've come to the end of my rambling post, and I have no idea what to title it. I guess I'll go with "non-existential crisis" since that's the subject these meandering thoughts ended up supplanting. Or I could call it "rabbit pie" (which would make as much sense), as that's what I plan on baking for lunch. Ooo, I feel like Farmer MacGregor this morning.

Hope everyone's having a good week. Today's pretty sunny here in Seattle.

I is for Indigenous People

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, for every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for this year's #AtoZchallenge? Revamping the Grand Duchy of Karameikos in a way that doesn't disregard its B/X roots]

I is for Indigenous People; the aboriginal natives of Karameikos.

We all know what a "native" is, right? A person born of a place. I'm both a "native Seattleite," and a "native Washingtonian." Technically, I'm a "native American," though the term is usually reserved for people who lived on this continent prior to European arrival, and the descendants of those people.

There is a human "monster type" (similar to the bandit, noble, merchant, etc.) found in the classic adventure module X1: The Isle of Dread titled "native." The description for the entry states:

"Natives are primitive people who live in jungles, wilderness, or on tropical islands. The warriors of the more warlike tribes (including cannibals) will all be 1st level fighters, but the natives of peaceful tribes are mostly normal humans with fewer high level leaders. Most natives wear no armor (AC 9), but some will wear the equivalent of leather armor (AC 7), and the tribal chiefs may wear special armor of hardened bone or lacquered wood that is the equivalent of AC 5 or 6. Natives may also carry shields."

Here we see the term "native" used in the pejorative sense of the term. "The natives are restless," likely had its origin in referring to the indigenous (native) people of an area and, over time, came to represent any "primitive" non-Western race that a European (i.e. British) conqueror might currently be in the process of re-making in his own image.

To the point where I asked my eight year old the other day, "when I say native person, what do I mean?" and he replied "Someone who lives in a hut or doesn't have a lot of food or stuff like we do." Oh my. We had to have a loooong conversation.

"Primitive" isn't a very good term for a non-industrial or "technologically advanced" society. I'm not a trained (or even amateur!) sociologist or anthropologist, but even a dummy like me can see that ANY people organized into a society has some sort of culture and cultural tradition...concepts and behaviors that have evolved and been passed down over generations...and any such organized society is going to be as culturally developed as another.  The pre-European contact peoples of the Americas (and Africa and the Pacific Islands, etc.) already had a developed, advanced culture adapted for their lifestyles...nothing "primitive" about it.  We equate a lack of specific technology (steel, firearms, ship-building, etc.) with a lack of intelligence and development...they're a step up from cavemen!...when really the only thing they lacked was the necessity and easy cross-pollination that occurred in other parts of the globe.

[you can kill someone with a stick or rock just fine, but when the guy on the other side of the mountain range is wearing metal armor, you better develop a weapon that will penetrate it...and figure out a way to get some armor of your own!]

Post-contact aboriginals of every landmass had no problems picking up, learning, and using advanced technology, even to the detriment of their would be "colonizers" (in parts of the U.S. it was a capital crime...i.e. punishable by death...to sell firearms to "indians" up through the 19th century). Even learning the language and customs of European was no big deal.  What these indigenous people had a much harder time with (and were oh so stubborn about) was abandoning their own culture...their own language, customs, religion, and mindset...that had developed over the course of centuries, in order to adopt wholesale the culture of these invading people.

"Surely they must be primitive...look at them following these superstitious practices!" As if the Christian religion looks O So Grounded in scientific fact, yeah? Where'd I put that machine that measures grace?

Anyway, humans of all stripes have treated strange peoples as "barbarians" since at least the time of ancient Greece (I know this because the word barbarian comes from an ancient Greek word). Age of Sail Europeans were not the first folks to conquer, enslave, and impose their culture on "others," but developments in technology allowed them to have lasting impact on huge swaths of the globe. It is what it is...but let's not continue to judge different cultures by the standards of 500 years ago, okay?

SO...Karameikos. Going by the B/X description of the duchy, there's no mention of any native (i.e. indigenous or aboriginal) humans. There are peoples residing in the land: gnomes, elves, goblins, orcs, and frost giants...but no fellow humans to be "colonized" by a conquering adventurer. GAZ1 is the first place we're introduced to the idea of an "indigenous people" of Karameikos.

Yes, I realize the concept of Traldar is first introduced in B10: Night's Dark Terror. Here's the thing: the Traldar of B10 have no relation to the people of Karameikos; they are some kind of post-neanderthal slave race who've never been "outside the valley" of the Hutaaka. In the ancient history told by B10, there are no "humans left behind to fight the gnolls." There is no King Halav & Co. -- that part of the story is all spun by Allston in GAZ1. In B10, the Hutaaka simply take their proto-humans and leave the scene...centuries later, all one finds in the region is an unblemished (by human) wilderness ripe for conquest by Stefan Karameikos and other adventurers.

All that jazz about Nithia and a "Dark Age" following Halav's battle and whatnot? That's all ADDED to the mix beginning with the Gazetteer. The "Traladara" with their "shared national identity" is all spun from whole cloth by Allston. And while it's interesting to have the political and social ramifications of an on-site conquered people in one's adventuring region, I find the history problematic, and not just because of the pseudo-Gypsy nature of the indigenous natives.

For one thing, I just can't buy into the whole "high-culture-devolves-to-hunter-gatherer-stone-age-in-five-generations" thing. We're talking a single century that the original Traldar clan (from the pseudo-ancient-Egypt Nithian culture) is in Karameikos before losing their shit. Just wouldn't happen. They're not marooned on some desert island or extrasolar planet (like the MZB Darkover setting)...they're on the other side of the mountains for goodness sake! If times got too tough, they'd head back! And in the fantasy world of D&D wouldn't they have clerics, magic-users, etc. with them? And if they didn't (or if these adventuring types were all killed), isn't it a pretty safe bet that the colony would have all perished to a man? We're talking about a D&D wilderness here: one with dragons and trolls and frost giants! It's a tad more hostile than what Lewis & Clark faced on the Oregon Trail, people.

From Egyptian to Gypsy
in 1000 years.

If the Nithian colony survived at all, it wouldn't have degenerated to a state that some dog-headed artist-types could ply them with "whatever" (see the prior blog post) in exchange for turning them into their labor force. I mean a COLONY expedition would have the people they need to...duh...start a colony, "harsh winters" or not. And if they couldn't hack it, they would have returned to Nithia...or died trying.

Yes, yes...I am a dude with no imagination just pissing in the cornflakes of everyone who LOVES "Mystara" as conceived and published. Here's the thing about fictional histories and backstory, people: for most players of tabletop RPGs this stuff matters very, very little. It matters MAINLY in what it provides as adventure hooks and/or clues to solving current dilemmas (like "how do we defeat this menace" or "where do I find this particular McGuffin").

The person who will find it MOST USEFUL and (hopefully) interesting is the Dungeon Master running the campaign. The DM uses this stuff to understand how and why the setting operates; the DM uses the material to generate adventure ideas and scenarios. The DM uses it as a "setting Bible," a reference to explain to players the answers to questions (about the setting) that might arise in play. "Why do the dwarves hate our characters when we haven't done anything to them?" "Why does this particular village insist on wearing green for the entire month of July?" All that kind of "stuff and fluff" gets answered by the background material AS NEEDED.

[DMs who insist on burdening players with a bunch of extraneous setting detail run the risk of simply BORING their players. D&D is a game of active participation, not a book club]

SO...If I am the Dungeon Master that's running the campaign set in Karameikos, the damn setting better make sense TO ME. If it doesn't, I'm not going to be able to make the best use of it with regard to my players, no matter how cool some people might find a peaceful, advanced tribe of dog-people living in a hidden valley. Sorry.

Having got that all out of the way (and after, once again, deluging readers with a wall of text), let's get some possible ideas for spinning the indigenous folks of Karameikos in a way that doesn't suck too bad (from my perspective):

Option #1: No indigenous humans. This is the easiest, and most "B/X" option. Adventurers seeking to build strongholds or castles are required to clear the area of all monsters and monster lairs before building. As a monster is defined as "any creature or character not controlled by a player," I don't think it's unfair to consider the duchy to have been "cleared" of any pre-existing communities and societies. One might still find hermits, "mountain men" (and "women") or the occasional brave settler family living in the wilds, but most of these (if not all) should be recent arrivals to the region. Any ancient ruins or whatnot found should be from mysterious, long-since-vanished (or exterminated) peoples...and not necessarily human ones.

Andals versus First Men

Option #2: Iron Age rivals. Do any of you folks watch that Game of Thrones show? So, the history/backstory of that setting goes like this: the First Men crossed into Westeross through a (no longer existing) land bridge and conquered "the Forest Children" (elves) using their Bronze Age armor and weapons. These First Men were then (mostly) conquered by the Andals who invaded with Iron Age technology, including plate armored cavalry (knights)...the lone hold-outs were the "Kings in the North" who retained their old culture and religion rather than convert to the Andals' Seven Gods. Finally, a handful of Tagaryan refugees (fleeing the destruction of their ancient island home) showed up with some dragons and used their air superiority to unite the entire continent under the rulership of one Iron Throne. Riffing off Martin's world would probably put Stefan and the Thyatians in the role of the Andals, perhaps with the Black Eagle Barony being the lone "First Men" hold-out (i.e. the Starks of Winterfell). Without drago-riding Targaryans, the land becomes one of constant squabbling between various "kingdoms" (i.e. rival warlords) of which only Stefan has the best foothold of all the Thyatian/Andal adventurers in the region. By the start of the campaign history, the indigenous Bronze Age culture has already acquired and adapted steel technology, putting them on a fairly equal footing with their would-be conquerors (or "equal enough" that negotiation and political strategy will be necessary to uniting the region, not simple military conquest). The elven tribes (in the role of "Forest Children") are a wild card force that doesn't like EITHER human side (seeing as how they chop down their trees for firewood and timber), as are the goblins ("snarks"), orcs ("grumpkins") and frost giants ("giants").

"Gath of Baal"

Option #3: Conquered dissidents. So maybe there WAS a large population of indigenous humans that the Thyatians/Romans overran with their armored legions...think the opening scene from Ridley Scott's Gladiator (or Tacitus's text Germania). Even better, let's look at fantasy equivalents like James Silke's "Death Dealer" series (based on the Frazetta character) with Thyatians in place of the steel-clad, slave-taking "Kizzak Horde" and the tribal ("barbarian") villages of the region being the stand-in for the Iron Age communities of the Forest Basin. Of course, without Gath of Baal to pull the villagers' fat out of the fire, conquest would likely be a walk-in touchdown for the Kizzak/Thyatians. Enslaved and oppressed by a ruthless, technologically superior (and magically formidable) force, the player characters would probably end up fighting a guerrilla war...either as members of the indigenous community or "sympathizers" among the Thyatian conquerors. Maybe. In such a setting, I think it'd be important to start the "invasion history" with Stefan's arrival on the scene (i.e. thirty years prior) rather than GAZ1's published timeline in order to give the PCs a fighting chance of upending the Horde's decimation of the native peoples and deforestation of the region's resources. This is a pretty grim campaign setting, filled with atrocity...but so is any story of conquest, really.

Black Eagle Barony?

Option #4: Conquered decadents. As a slight alternative to Option #3, make the indigenous people an ancient powerful and "advanced" society, overthrown by their own people as much as by the invaders. This is the enslaved tribes of Mesoamerica joining forces with Cortes to overthrow their Aztec overlords...or perhaps some sort of weird and decadent Atlantean/Egyptian society that is in no position to defend themselves from an ambitious, violent invader (they're too busy indulging in hallucinatory drugs and sorcery for entertainment to control the slave uprising that accompanies the Thyatian advance). Plenty of pyramids and thousand-year old strongholds (complete with exotic treasure and still functional booby-traps) are left behind after the conquest of the region, and Stefan is only too glad to allow youthful adventurers the chance to pillage such structures (he knows his coffers will receive a healthy tax on any loot recovered). Perhaps these ancient-but-still-standing fortresses can become castles for Name level adventurers...maybe Fort Doom is the equivalent of Castle Grayskull and Baron Ludwig is just the latest person to "claim" it as a residence.

Ya. More tomorrow.

Druids: First Thoughts

Now we move onto a subclass that I've been dreading having to work with. Hell, my first few notes on the subject (when I started thinking about this post) are from October 5th. I've been procrastinating for a while, but now that I've gone down the road of adapting subclasses to Holmes, it's a challenge I need to get on to, dread or not.

[dreading as much as the monk? Probably more, actually...but the monk is close behind in the "what-am-I-going-to-do-with-THIS-thing" category"]

Over the years, I can remember at least a couple-three times when a buddy would approach me with a desire to play a druid. To which I have always replied:

"Why? Are you [insert derogatory, non-PC adjective here]?"

[this, by the way, is the kind of flippant, dick banter that nearly everyone hates and that most guys still do, at least with our (usually male) friends. I've really been trying to cure myself of this stupid habit the last few years]

Fact is, some people dig the whole druid concept (for a myriad of reasons), but I always looked at the class through the most superficial of lenses: a weak-ass cleric-wannabe in leather armor who can grow trees and turn into a bird, and whose major abilities seem fuckall worthless in a subterranean environment (the basic setting for a game with the word "Dungeons" in the title). It was buddy, gaming acquaintance, and all-around smart guy Heron who pointed out to me that druids that there's an awful lot of natural "life" in a subterranean environment: lichens and molds and bats and rats and insects and lizards and fish and...well, you get the picture. The underground is teeming with natural life waiting for a guardian to communicate and ally with...it doesn't all have to be forests and fairies.

Besides which we also associate druids with megalithic stone structures (even when such association isn't necessarily warranted...although it's clear druids used sites like Stone Henge, the sites weren't built by druids; sorry Spinal Tap). Stone, carved stone...like the stuff used to line your average cyclopean dungeon. One might figure the druid to be as nice a compliment to a group of spelunking treasure seekers as a dwarf, given the nature priest's skill set.

And yet, we really don't know WHAT a druid is or was. I mean, a "druid" is not an an archetype that is found across cultures in the same way as, say, a fighter, or a wizard, or a thief is. A druid was a specific class of individual found within the ancient Celtic society...one that was stamped out by the Romans as they conquered Gaul and Britain. Here's about all we know (or think we know) from mostly Roman accounts:

• They were learned and well-respected within their own society.
• They were in charge of religious activities and justice (acting as judges) and may have had medical training, too.
• They were exempt from military service and could act as intermediaries between armies (and even stop a battle). 
• They may have been trained in secret (like a mystery cult) in forests and/or caves.
• They were astronomers and practiced divination.
• They believed in reincarnation and the immortality of the human soul.
• In Ireland (perhaps elsewhere), "druids" were a bit synonymous with "magicians," and were belived to have magic powers (usually curse-type spells).

And that's it...everything else is unreliable, speculated, or derived from fiction, or (in the case of fantasy gaming), derived from the earliest editions of D&D.

Druids first appears as a monster in Supplement I (Greyhawk) for OD&D, with the following description:

DRUIDS: These men are priests of a neutral-type religion, and as such they differ in armor class and hit dice, as well as in movement capability, and are combination clerics/magic-users. Magic-use ranges from 5th through 7th level, while clericism ranges from 7th through 9th level. Druids may change shape three times per day, once each to reptile, bird, and animal respectively, from size as spall as a raven to as large as a small bear. They will generally (70%) be accompanied by numbers of barbaric followers (fighters), with a few higher-level leaders (2-5 fighters of 2nd-5th levels) and a body of normal men (20-50).

This here may be as close to accurate as any edition of D&D ever gets to the druid, at least in the "adapting-a-historic-culture-to-a-fantasy-wargame" sense of the word "accurate." This is a group that a Roman army might have encountered during a conquest of (fantasy) Gaul, combining the (legendary) rumors of magic power with the (historic) role of the druid as religious and cultural leaders. Everything that comes later is derived from this.

Do these look like adventurers?

Not that there's all that much that comes later. There is the druid subclass (of cleric) that is presented in Supplement III (Eldritch Wizardry), followed by the subclass as presented in the PHB (nearly the exact same, save that it goes to 14th level instead of 13th and ups the hit die type), followed by the 2E version (a subclass of priest) that is...well, nearly the same as the 1E version. Mentzer's BECMI includes the druid as a proto-prestige class of cleric (where 9th level clerics of neutral alignment suddenly take off their metal armor and start living in the woods with a different spell set), and 3E is, well, almost exactly the same as the 1E version (though with skills and scaling in the D20 mode), save that it introduces the idea of an animal companion to the druid...a pet/bodyguard that would grow in power as the druid did (in the true D20 method of constant scaling).

4E was the first edition to really go "outside the box" that was first codified in Eldritch Wizardry (even AD&D had animal followers for druids, similar to 3E's "companions"). I wrote about that here, and while I think it's a fairly ridiculous (i.e. "stupid") concept, it's level of inaccuracy isn't probably all that worse than the "traditional" druid class.

[actually, scratch that: I just went back and reread the druid presented in the 4E PHB2 and it is the most grossly stupid thing I've ever seen. There is absolutely ZERO correlation between that class and the historic druid...it might as well be called "the Mowgli" or "Feral Child." Really, what were they thinking? If this post wasn't already long, I'd print the passage for open ridicule]

For me, though, the main issue isn't one of accuracy or historicity or even gameplay (in the "how does this class's attributes work in play" sense). No, the main issue is how the concept of a druid fits within the implied setting of D&D. How is having a culturally appropriated role like a Celtic druid any different from, say, an African witchdoctor, or a Japanese samurai, or a Sioux shaman? Isn't it just a different form of cleric? Do we need such a subclass? Especially in a game that purports to be "setting free" (at least with regard to proper noun religions and nations and cultures)?

Don't misunderstand me...there's a part of me that LIKES the inclusion of a "back-to-nature priest" class as an opposite number to the "organized temple religious crusader" cleric. I like having that dichotomy AND I think it does set up nice rivalries for any setting one cares to craft for the game. You see this trope in fantasy fiction all the time: the old, natural (read "pagan") religion that has been suppressed/usurped by the new, warlike religion. Usually features also the neolithic or early Iron Age culture getting conquered by the steel-clad troops of an invading army (see the history of Westeros in Game of Thrones for an easy example...there are plenty of others).

But consider this: in such a campaign setting (which, BTW, has been done to death and is thus kind of boring), wouldn't the post-apocalyptic landscape set-up to make priests of the "old antiquated religion" (i.e. druids) to be the bad guys left behind in these ancient cave complexes (dungeons)? NOT platemail-wearing "evil high priests" (clerics) but dudes with hide armor and feathers and shillelaghs? I mean, that would make sense, right?

[as much sense as anything in this damn game makes]

If there is some sort of "cosmic war" between Lawful and Chaotic forces ("good gods" versus "evil gods") with clerics being the agents on both sides, where the hell are these "druids" supposed to fit? What place does such a neutral party play in such a war? Especially considering their magic is also supposed to come from "divine" sources (as a subclass of cleric). Now you have to start sacking yourself cosmological questions in order to even include the subclass...which is a pain in the ass for what is (ostensibly) a "generic fantasy" game.

Irritating...with a capital "I."

And sure...it doesn't have to matter to play the game; you can just throw whatever kitchen sink stuff you want into your campaign to make it "fun." For me, I want a slightly higher level of quality control. Which is why I bother to care about this shit.

SO...as I prepare to write-up my own version of the druid subclass for Holmes ('cause I set out to do this thing and I want to see the exercise through), I find myself not even knowing where to start. I'm pretty sure it won't look anything like the "feral boy" class of 4E. I'm pretty sure that it will need a whole new spell list, just as I did with the illusionist (no comments, people? I suppose folks aren't familiar enough with the illusionist class as it exists to see the coolness...). And that's about all I know.

But it's Market Day, so I've got to sign off. I'll be reflecting on the druid throughout the day (and maybe longer). Any input/opinions/thoughts people want to throw my way are welcome. This one's going to need all the help I can get.

[maybe I should do the monk first...]

Of Culture and Currency

[no, this is not going to be some scholarly treatise]

Man, this shit takes a long time.

Currently working on a list of all the noble houses of Westeros for my Crowns of Blood campaign. Yes, there's quite a few. I started with two of the smaller regions (the mountainous Vale and the Iron Islands) to "warm up" to the task, and it's a big one: nineteen houses (including two "cadet" branches) for the Vale and another nineteen for the Iron Islands not counting cadets (which would have brought the total over two dozen). I can only imagine what The Reach and The North are going to look like.

*sigh*

This is the kind of thing..."world modeling"...that I can get really bored with. And it's the kind of extraneous campaign material that...well, suffice is to say, my "world making muscles" are a little out of shape. I hate hex maps. And while spreadsheets are fun, it just takes so long to navigate this on-line information. I just want a hard copy atlas I can page through!

['course, I'd still be striving to transpose the atlas entries into the spreadsheet. It all takes work-effort]

Thing is, I'm not sure the effort is really being utilized as best as it could be. In fact, I know it isn't. All this is being done for character creation, to get a large group of "stuff" so that I can cut it onto random tables determining homeland and culture (with its associated traits, passions, starting skills, etc.). But I'm probably being waaaay too specific. Fact is, even with the "advanced chargen" of Pendragon's Knights Adventurous, the extra information doesn't result in a whole helluva' lot of mechanical adjustments.

Take Jaime Lannister, for example. I worked up a suitable replica of the Kingslayer using KA this morning, and it went something like this:

Starting age 15 (even though he's winning a tourney melee at age 13, I'll chalk it up as a little extra glory to start...his real beginning starts at 15 with his adventures against the Kingswood Brotherhood, and his subsequent knighting). Homeland region Cambria (roughly equivalent to the Westerlands), specifically (and just for fun) Cameliard, hometown of High Queen Guenever.

[there are a lot o similarities between Arthurian Cambria and the stand-offishness of the Westerlands. Cameliard is ruled by a king (Guenever's father Leodegrance), and Jaime is the son of the Warden of the West (Tywin Lannister) who would be a king in his own right if his ancestors hadn't sword allegiance to the Iron Throne (i.e. the Targaryen "high king"). The fact that Tywin's daughter Cersei Lannister is Martin's equivalent of Guenever in the books (married to the high king, very beautiful, committing adultery with the king's Golden Boy knight) is a tasty little parallel. In the actual Pendragon campaign, being from Cameliard gives one the passion Amor: Guenever. Giving Jaime such a passion (replacing Guenver with Cersei) sets him up with a motivation for their incestuous relationship]

He's got a "famous" passion...for his sister.

There's no random roll for father's class...Jaime's the first-born son of the Lord. In Pendragon, he's of the Cymri culture and a Christian...in Westeros this is the equivalent of being of Andal ancestry (both the Andals and the Cymrics are the most populous race of the continent), and of the Faith of the Seven. However, the only real adjustment that any of this gives us?

Cambria Region: bonus traits: arbitrary +2, suspicious +2, prudent +1, temperate +1
Cameliard Homeland: culture (Cymri) and religion (Christian) set; bonus passion (amor: Cersei).

Skills (Pendragon is a skill-based system, and most of characters' effectiveness comes from their skill) are derived entirely from the character's culture and the father's class.  There are scores of homelands in Pendragon, but only seven cultures: Cymri, French, Occitainian, Irish, Pict, Roman, and Saxon. There are fewer than that in Westeros (unless you want to start allowing Braavosi and Dothraki and whatnot to have "wandered over" from Essos). Maybe six if you allow characters to be Wildlings and Mountain Clan tribesmen.

As for "father's class," the same classes are (more or less) present in every region. Even if you decide to go the Knights Adventurous route and step away from the default "all characters are vassal knights" you're still dealing with...well, with lords and knights and highborn warrior types (your character might be a savage, but you're still a warrior savage, and quite possibly a son of the tribal "chief"). Pendragon (and Crowns of Blood by extension) is NOT a game of playing small folk and peasants. You will never start off as the son of a baker or a criminal ("thief") type. Even churchmen and druids (in Pendragon) require GM's permission...you can never become one by random roll. You might be a bastard, but your father was someone who fought for a lord (if not a lord himself).

Which, again, is right in line with the Game of Thrones setting. None of these characters are "low-born." Sandor Clegane ("the Hound") isn't a knight...but his father was. Arya Stark is unlikely to become a knight, but her father was a Lord and she's had fighter training. Even if you want to allow for non-warrior women (i.e. the Sansa and Cersei and Catelyn Stark types), we're still talking about high born folk, movers and shakers in castle politics, not washer women. But you might as well take advantage of the setting and make your female characters fighters (like Maege Mormont and her daughters, Brienne of Tarth, Asha (Yara) Greyjoy, Arya and Lyanna Stark, the Sand Snakes, etc.).

The point is, why am I bothering to write all this up? I might as well simply say, "roll for culture, roll for class status, and then PICK a house...from the books or the wikipedia...that fits!" Characters can have random trait adjustments or adjustments based on REGION (instead of house) or simply assigned...they don't have to be a "chip off the block" of their ancestors. I'm making this harder than it needs to be!

Oh, and just while we're on the subject of streamlining character class: what is up with this "qualify for a career class" step in KA's chargen process? The "classes" offered (again all fighting-types: warrior, foot soldier, squire, sergeant, merc knight, vassal knight, etc.) don't add a blessed thing to your character. Not skills (these are determined by culture and social class), not traits (culture and religion), not starting glory (that's father's social class), not starting equipment (father's social class again), nor special abilities or gear (random rolls on "luck tables"). This step is utterly pointless, having no effect except to determine whether or not a character is qualified for eventual knighthood (which thereby gains a 1000 point Glory bonus)...but since the section states eldest sons of rich lords might be knighted even when not meeting the qualifications of knighthood, it really does become pointless.

These two? Same "class" of character.

Okay, SO, new plan...stop making this so hard. Roll for region (North, Vale, Westerlands, Reach, etc.), roll for culture (Andal, Ironborn, Targaryen, etc.), and roll for father's social class (the usual). Then you get pick from a list of house names based on region, probably excluding the principle Great Houses (Stark, Lannister, etc.) of each region. Probably....I'm still considering that option.

Whoops! Almost forgot the "currency" part of this post. In Martin's books, the folks of Westeros use three types of coined currency: gold "dragons," silver "stags," and copper "stars," plus (per Martin in a web interview outside the books) a variety of pennies and half-pennies, etc.

Gold, silver, and copper. Pretty familiar, huh?

Pendragon uses three types of coin, apparently based on the currency minted by Pepin the Short in 8th century France: 240 pennies (Pepin's novus denarius) to one Carolingian pound (called a Libra, or L, in Pendragon)...that is, one pound (weight) of silver. Pendragon also uses the silver shilling (valued at 1/20 of a pound), though I can't see where that was used prior to Charlemagne (Pepin's son). Remember that Pendragon is based firmly the 6th century...but it's fantasy, yeah?

Anyway, Martin doesn't bother to give us a breakdown of currency conversion in his books, though he does say the cost for a complete set of steel armor (from the description something the equivalent of Pendragon's reinforced chain mail, including closed helm) is about 800 silver stags ("roughly four gold dragons"). In Pendragon, such a suit would cost 6L, or 120 shillings...thus, one gold dragon of Westeros has the equivalent value of 1.5L (a pound and a half of silver, or 30 shillings = 30 sheep).

In Westeros, it would appear you'd need about seven silver stags to buy a sheep, instead of the 10-15 pennies of Pendragon (see the Stockyards table).

She's rich, fellas!

Martin also states that 300 gold dragons is a fair price to ransom a knight. Of course, the knight in question is Brienne of Tarth, the only child and heir of House Tarth. Lord Tarth himself offers the ransom. Per Pendragon, ransom amounts are set by custom and not open for debate and are based on three years average income; by that standard, the yearly income for a small noble house like Tarth could be estimated at 100 dragons, yeah? The equivalent of 150L? Well, a ransom for such a house would then be 450L. The closest equivalent ransom in Pendragon would be 550L for a Baron which is close...and for a small house, it may be a rich one given that it controls Straits of Tarth, the northern entry into Shipbreaker Bay.

All right, folks...I've got to close this for the moment. More later (probably). Got to go convert some money myself, before the exchange shop closes!

Missing Science Fiction

Folks who think Paraguay must be "something like Mexico," really have no idea. Forget the fact that there's no tortillas here and that people have an aversion to spicy food (truly...the slightest amount of spice throws folks over the edge). They don't even eat beans! There's a saying in Mexico: 'a house without beans is like a house without a roof.' Most homes down here would be open to the sky.

What they do have...in addition to a love of red meat and starch...is an incredible, incurable sweet tooth. Dulce de leche oozes out of just about everything and boy-o-boy do people love candy. It's not even about tasty pastries (they're fairly good bakers)...it's just about making it sweet.

Ice cold without ice is best.

I recently ordered a gin martini (unlike Mexico, Paraguay has and uses gin) and nearly choked on the damn thing. Haven't ordered one since, but had the chance to talk to a bartender yestereve to figure out if this was a one-time anomaly or not. Turns out: not. In the United States, a dry martini is usually four parts gin (five parts when I'm pouring 'em) to one part vermouth (a sweetish, white wine used mainly for cocktails). Pure deliciousness, especially with Bombay Saphire gin (save the Tanqueray for your gin and tonics).

Welp, in Paraguay, the ratio is a little different: two parts gin to three parts vermouth. That is, frankly, obscene. But the bartender (who works at the Sheraton in Asuncion and is aware Americans have a different take on this) explained that it just fits what Paraguayans prefer: something to match their sweet tooth. I suppose it's the price you pay for ordering a cocktail in the first place: "real men" in Paraguay seem to thrive on straight whiskey (Johnny Walker only) if they have money and beer (various) if they don't.

[everyone drinks wine of course but that's just, you know, "water;" it's not a DRINK drink]

[on the other hand, they never serve wine to the people during the Catholic Mass which is...well, whatever]

Cultural differences are interesting: sometimes intriguing, sometimes frustrating. Experiencing them is one of the highlights of travel outside my native culture. Not because I'm especially adventurous in temperament (I'd probably say I'm the opposite), but because I have a curiosity about how humans can live so differently from each other. And when visiting a new culture (as opposed to living there and occasionally wanting non-gag-worthy beverage) it can be fun to steep yourself in the differences.

In a way, it's one of the things I miss about science fiction.

I used to like science fiction quite a bit, and not just of the Star Wars variety. Truth is, I might still like it...I'm just not a huge fan of what I see in the SciFi realm these days. In film, it's so spectacle-driven these days, and probably with good reason (it drives patrons into theaters to see the latest-greatest FX and puts money in the pockets of the film industry). But...ugh, how to articulate this?

[I've been having a real problem finding words these days...partly because I'm constantly trying to communicate in Spanish, and partly because most of my human interaction in English is with my now-four year old...sigh]

Cool weapons and explosions and spaceship battles and strange aliens aren't the things that make science fiction "good" for me. Instead, it's a sense of wonderment...something so subjective, I realize it's impossible (or ridiculous) to try to define. I suppose it's one of those things that "I know it when I see it."

And sci-fi literature is even less appealing for me, as authors seem driven to stick with "hard science" and the realm of what is "conceivably possible," rather than risk becoming a laughingstock within their own genre. My buddy Steve-O is a sic-fi aficionado, and he's constantly giving me novels that postulate terraforming or space travel or whatnot based on real applied science and telling me I need to write an RPG that incorporates things like plasma rockets and hollowed asteroids and whatnot. But I just can't bring myself to do it. It's not that I want Burroughs-type "sword & planet" romances or more Flash Gordon-style "rebels against the evil space empire" stories. I don't. But I guess I don't want my fiction to be smarter (or much smarter) than me...and perhaps I'm not terribly smart to begin with,

In some ways, it seems like sci-fi is afraid to become "dated." It either passes into the realm of speculative, "this-is-a-logical-thing-that-could-happen-based-on-our-current-state-and-trends-of-development" or else it's just a bizarre, over-the-top free-for-all of laser blasting, world wrecking, giant robot, blah-blah-blah. The stories might be good, the writing/film-making excellent, but it might as well be set in a different genre than "sci-fi" for all the wonderment it provides. File off the sci-fi trappings and it's just "a story."

Maybe I'm just jaded. Or old. Or both.

As a kid, I played the original Traveller game (the "little black books") with my buddy Rob as the GM and I remember having an immensely good time doing it. It had a similar feeling to the "Rogue Trader" aspect of 1st edition Warhammer 40,000 (before the story lines were codified and inter-woven with the whole Chaos fantasy thang). It lacked so much of what, say, Star Frontiers had in a codified setting...and yet that mystery of "how things/the Universe fit together" contributed to a sense of "wonderment." You never knew what you might find when you stepped off your scout ship to explore some random alien planet.

[I realize there are many ways to play Traveller and that not everyone was simply "blasting off into the unknown," so experiences in that regard might be very different]

Anyway, today I find myself missing the space-faring science fiction of my youth...both in gaming and entertainment. I'm not sure where this longing will lead me (if anywhere), but I just feel like hanging onto it for a while and turning it over in my mind. Probably has something to do with my own current status of being something of "a stranger in a strange land."

Game of the Year (Film)

A few weeks back, I read a review of the film Game of the Year over at Grognardia, and my interest was piqued enough to look and see if it was available on Netflix. So I was quite surprised when the producer of the film emailed me to ask if I’d like a copy of the DVD and be willing to do a review. Right on!

The thing came in the mail a while ago but last night was my first opportunity to watch the thing, which I did…twice. Here are my thoughts:

First, the Quick & Dirty: if you are a gamer, or curious/interested in gamer culture, or are in a relationship with someone who games, you will probably find the film entertaining. If you’re really not into documentary films, even fake ones (like those of Christopher Guest), then you may not like the film’s format as it is of the fake documentary or “mockumentary” style. There are some funny bits, some poignant bits, quite a bit of good acting, and a well-paced script, if a little “light weight.”

Now for the deeper (if more convoluted) review.

Game of the Year is a weird film. Not weird in the Naked Lunch or David Lynch kind of way, but the POINT of the director is an odd one.

Because there IS a point. The filmmaker isn’t just trying to entertain in a documentary style (as is the case with a mockumentary like, say, Best in Show or Spinal Tap)…there’s a bit too much care and affection for the characters and material (in my opinion). And yet it’s not a “real” documentary film: it’s scripted and contrived and for the most part acted by (amazingly) non-gamer folks.

Let’s back up for a moment: the premise of the story is that there’s a reality TV show getting produced regarding table-top role-players, and the winners of the show will get to help run a game company for a year (in the spirit of The Apprentice). The film isn’t about the competition, though…instead it’s about one group of gamers who’ve been playing together for years that want to get on the show…and so they have cahooted themselves with a documentary film project, in hopes it will bolster their chances of being one of the contestant teams (kind of like a semi-pro audition tape or something). The film then chronicles, not their game, but their relationships to the game and to each other.

This isn’t a film about RPGs. It’s about the people who play RPGs…their relationship to the game and to each other and the balance of that with their real lives (though the latter is very down-played in the film for the sake of entertainment and the wink-nod in-jokes to gamers).

I liked the film. It’s a good little film (and I’ll highlight some specific things I liked in a moment), but in a way I’m disappointed…I think there was an opportunity here to “blow the top off” that got missed for the sake of a slightly safer film.

I have to say I didn’t much like the premise. It’s not that the reality show is so farfetched (I have watched a LOT of different reality shows over the years, and they’ll make just about anything for the right niche market. Top Shot? Now those guys are geeks…geeks with guns!). I understand that the filmmaker is using it as a backdrop to “up the stakes” and drive the plot…why else would these guys be filmed right?...in a way similar to the variety show reunion thing in A Mighty Wind. But it’s weak. It’s so secondary to the REAL drama of the film…the interaction of the cast (which is the fun of fake documentaries anyway)...that it feels forced.

I would have preferred to see just a film about the gaming group, fake or not. Maybe the documentarians were filming it as a “slice of life” of gamer culture (similar to Spinal Tap’s “slice of life of being a touring rock band”). The stakes are already there; they are already as high as they need to be: friendship, social contract, the intimacy of gaming, home life and family, love life issues.

There are strong ties that bind any members of a subculture. And because subcultures are niche rather than mainstream, there are huge amounts of emotion and feeling that get invested in ‘em. I mean, most people want to share what they do with others, and hobbies that require group participation (like role-playing) need people even more. If I get 86’d from my “rock climbing club” I can still go climb a mountain on my own (though that might not be as fun, given my particular temperament). If I get kicked out of a gaming group, well, I suppose I can sit around reading my books. Or blogging. But that’s NOT the same thing as actually playing.

In the course of the film, we see the members of the group have a falling out. The individual members then attempt to cobble together new game groups for the sake of still auditioning for this “reality show,” Game of the Year. Why? I mean that’s not the important part (from a gamer perspective)…the important part is finding A NEW GAME. You’re not a gamer without a gaming group, you’re just a sad little man sitting alone in his garage (like one of the film’s characters, Gary).

You don’t think that’s important? My God, for a person who’s played these games, it’s just about the MOST important thing. People will hang out with all sorts of rejects and crazies…or stay in terrible, unsatisfying game groups…just so that they don’t have to go out and find a new group. Because there’s no guarantee the new group is going to be better, or even equal to the last…as I think the film aptly demonstrates.

The social contract involved in playing these fantasy games, ESPECIALLY as an adult, is a crazy-complex one. For one thing, sharing time in an imaginary world with others is a deep and intimate bonding experience…you start speaking a language and sharing experiences that few outside your own game group will understand. And while this is fine and dandy as a kid (imaginary play is expected and often encouraged with most kids), for adults there is such a stigma attached to the idea…that people need to GROW UP and deal with the REAL WORLD as opposed to playing silly games…and the friendships formed around the gaming table are deeper than anything you’d find in, say, a fantasy football or pick-up basketball league. People will put up with shit they’d never put up with in other areas of their life just to keep the game going.

And while that’s a stake for the characters in Game of the Year there are additional stakes as well. One character becomes separated from his spouse over his gaming hobby. Another character is trying desperately to hide his hobby from his significant other. Two (or three) other characters are vying for the romantic affection of one of their fellow game members. One character hasn’t had a girlfriend in years and his buddy’s are trying to set him up with someone (and he makes a hash out of it).

These “real world issues” – how we relate to our loved ones and potential partners outside of gaming, especially when our gaming has an impact or takes a toll on those relationships – is plenty significant, and the stakes are good and high (and the situations still ripe with comedic potential and pathos) without the whole "reality contest" concept.

However, that’s not the filmmaker’s point in making this film. The point (at least what I seem to get from watching) is to portray gamers in a more true-to-life light, in a way that breaks the stereotypes often portrayed in film and television. Often gamers are portrayed as out-of-touch nerds with screws loose and a near complete inability to function in “normal” settings. Which isn’t usually the case: most of us still have jobs and houses and cars and spouses and lives outside of gaming. Just because we like to imagine we are wizards and warriors a couple nights a week (or month or whatever), doesn’t mean we’re totally retarded, 12 year olds living in the bodies of 30-somethings.

And I think the filmmaker gets that point across. The gamers portrayed…at least when they’re away from the table…aren’t much different or any weirder than other people their own age. This is, of course, a good thing: taking gaming a bit out of the basement, as it were. If that was his main goal (as well as poking fun at gamers where the sterotypes ARE sometimes accurate), then he succeeded.

But I still think he misses an opportunity. It’s as if Chris Grega (the director/creator and a self-professed gamer himself) is a bit self-conscious of his own material. He has to include this whacky reality show idea because he’s buying the hype that something MORE is needed. That people can’t get so worked up over something that’s “just a game,” right?

Just a silly game.

They ARE just games, but people get worked up over smaller things than that ALL THE TIME. Soccer players have been murdered for blowing a play in a big game. Professional sports players have been suspended and fined heavily for stomping on the heads of downed opponents, just in the heat of a game. People go on nationally televised reality shows (even ones without cash prizes involved) and get into fights and altercations over the smallest, pettiest slights…all filmed for the sake of ratings and more sensational programming.

Historically people have dueled to the death over trifles. There’s a reason why 1st degree (premeditated) murder carries a higher penalty than murder performed in the heat of passion: humans get worked up over all sorts of shit. Crazy, ridiculous things of no importance. A waitress brings me the wrong beer or forgets my side order and we get all bent out of shape…while there are other people starving to death and/or dying of malnutrition in our own country. That’s just human nature…we OFTEN miss the big picture for the self-specific gripe right in front of us.

It’s no different with gaming. Gamers can be petty, irrational, ridiculous people…just like anyone. And that’s okay (or at least “acceptable” just like we need to accept any of our other human failings). And it can be entertaining, too, just like watching any train wreck can be! I salute Grega’s portrayal of gamers in a realistic light, but I wish he’d just taken it another step and reveled even more in the passion (and foibles) of what it means to be a member of this niche hobby.

Okay, that’s the bulk of my take on the movie.

Other thoughts: there was actually quite a bit of food for thought (i.e. fodder for blog posts) in this film. I don’t know if it’s just a St. Louis thing (where the movie was filmed and where the filmmaker resides), but the total lack of female gamers (“Wonder Woman” notwithstanding) was a little weird. Other than my current game group or the occasional 2-3 player one-off there’s always been a woman or two at my gaming tables (whether I was running the game or playing). In the DVD commentary, I might have heard Mr. Grega say he’d never had a female player in his experience. Maybe Seattle’s just more co-ed (interesting that my current LARGE game group is all men and most of them are from St. Louis…just saying…).

The gaming itself, as portrayed in the movie, felt very “testosterous” (perhaps helped by the lack of women?)….the scenarios were all of the “let’s fight something and get loot” variety. Miniatures and battle mats were used in most of the scenes, and there was loud complaining when players didn’t get to roll for initiative enough. Combat and killing seemed to be the preeminent attractions, and the characters were portrayed as enjoying wargaming (especially historic wargaming, not GW stuff) as well. Early in the film, one player complains that their current DM isn’t “the storyteller” that their last DM was, but when we see that guy he’s ALL fluff (much to his players’ chagrin). There wasn’t a happy medium portrayed (though again, the film’s point was NOT about documenting game play itself but of examining the people who play the game).

Let’s see, what else? I thought it was only in my games that player characters kill each other and teabag their fallen opponents. Apparently we’re not the only ones.

I thought the acting was pretty darn good (especially considering most of them had no background in gaming prior to making the film). The characters all reminded me of real gamers I’ve met over the years (though the personalities were more that of guys I’d known in my 20s, and the actors look older than that). Most spouses and significant others of gamers I’ve known have been more sympathetic or accepting of their partner’s weird hobby; but I can certainly relate to some of the marital conflict on display (I’ve learned over the years to prioritize MY hobbies a little differently)!

I was amused by some of the set dressing, particularly the DM screens chosen for the different game masters in the film. The main “protagonist” DM has a 1st edition AD&D screen, the mechanics-emphasized table used a 4th edition screen, and the “story teller” used the 2nd edition AD&D screen. I don’t know if this was purposeful or not, but I felt the choices were appropriate.

There were an awful lot of amusing bits that make me chuckle when I reflect on the movie. There were no token stoners in the movie (I think the A.D.D. cousin and the “milf” dude kind of stood in for them), but there was plenty of other craziness on display, all of which I found amusing…seeing as how it wasn’t happening to me. There’s a reason why game groups will stay together for years without a whole lot of member changes: getting that right mix of people together to run a satisfying game can be pretty damn tricky. The social contract of role-playing is not an easy one to put together, and unfortunately all the “DM advice” in the world can’t stand in for going out and putting it together…through trial and error and error and error.

Anyway, I liked the film. My (non-gamer) wife started watching the first chapter and found it amusing as well. She asked if I was going to let my game buddies borrow the DVD and I said I’d probably force them to sit through a screening. I might just take it down to Café Mox and see if they want to show it one night, instead of the usual cartoon/sci-fi fare. Damn, though, I do wish it had closed-caption subtitles!