J is for Jungle

I missed the April A-Z Blog Challenge this year, so I'm doing my own...in June. This year, I will be posting one post per day discussing my AD&D campaign, for the curious. Since 2020, this is the ONLY campaign I run. Enjoy!

J is for Jungle...the jungles of Oregon. Every vanilla fantasy campaign requires a "deep dark jungle" region to hide lost cities and dangerous cannibals and whatnot. For my campaign, that region is Oregon.

Oregon, as part of the Pac Northwest, is a lot like Washington State, except that it's worse in just about every way possible.   

[Haha ! I could enumerate all the ways I prefer my state to our southern neighbors, but suffice is to say that there exists a "friendly" rivalry between our states and you're probably not going to change my (subjective) opinion on the matter. Be content with your Ducks lording it over the Huskies, Oregon readers]

Anyway, there are a LOT of similarities between the two states, but my setting doesn't need a "lesser Washington" south of the Columbia. What I need is some place to put adventures like Dwellers of the Forbidden City...another border area for exploration and adventure that becomes more and more dangerous the farther you leave the (Washington) epicenter of the campaign. 

So, yeah: jungle. Unfortunately, it's pretty difficult to convert Oregonian forest into dense jungle, even with global warming / climate change. Just heating up the world's temperature doesn't make the place wetter...in fact, it causes the eastern part of Oregon to become more arid and prone to drought than it already is. Plus the latitude puts the state too far north to keep it tropical all year round...frost is a thing, and I really don't want to have to tilt my planetary axis.

Instead, after much googling and chatGPTing, I found a way to change the Oregonian climate with the O So Original Idea of dropping California into the ocean (no great loss, there...). Here's how it looks:

A catastrophic tectonic upheaval along the San Andreas Fault fractures California, causing vast swaths of the coastline — including Los Angeles, the Central Valley, and parts of the Sierra Nevada — to collapse below sea level. The Pacific Ocean rushes in, forming a vast inland sea stretching from present-day Redding to the Gulf of California. This new body of water, dubbed the Cascadian Sea, becomes a powerful new thermal engine, radically altering weather and ocean current patterns along the North American west coast.

As a result of this geographic reconfiguration, the cool California Current collapses and is replaced by a redirected branch of the North Equatorial Current, which now flows northeast into the Cascadian Sea and then northward along the Oregon coast. This warm current brings year-round heat and tropical moisture, transforming western Oregon’s environment. With no major topographic changes, existing features like the Coast Range and Willamette Valley trap heat and moisture inland, fostering an explosion of subtropical flora and fauna. Portland, Eugene, and Corvallis become overgrown, half-submerged jungle ruins — overrun by banyan-like trees, giant ferns, and invasive tropical wildlife.

Meanwhile, Washington State remains largely buffered from this transformation. Cold air masses continue to spill in from the North Pacific, and oceanic upwellings help retain a mild, rainy climate. The Columbia River Gorge becomes a dramatic borderland — a shifting, misty zone between Washington's evergreen highlands and Oregon's choking jungle lowlands. Migratory populations fleeing Oregon’s collapse seek refuge in the stable urban centers of Seattle and Spokane, while others adapt to life in the overgrown wetlands below.

The new Oregon is wild, wet, and hazardous — a place of stunning natural regrowth and near-total infrastructure collapse. Trade, travel, and communication require watercraft or jungle-adapted aerial drones. Native species have vanished, replaced by reptiles, amphibians, and tropical insects. What remains of the state is a loose network of river-bound settlements, canopy outposts, and ruins — some inhabited by scavengers, others consumed by the green tide.

Ah, ChatGPT...there are some things you do rather well, including saving me having to use too much brainpower in determining cause and effects and conditional changes on a global scale. Let's see what else you can give me...

In this transformed Oregon, the economy operates as a decentralized network of river-bound settlements and jungle-adapted enclaves, united loosely by a gold- and silver-based coin economy. These coins—recovered from sunken vaults, salvaged urban caches, or newly minted by metallurgist guilds using primitive smelters in ridge-top strongholds—form the backbone of trade. With traditional banking long gone, trust is enforced locally through reputation, alliances, and martial presence. Day-to-day barter remains common for essentials like food, cloth, or tools, but coins offer a crucial medium of exchange between disparate, culturally distinct regions or dealings with foreign merchants—especially those from Washington.

River trade is the lifeline of this economy, with shallow-draft skiffs and sail-powered barges connecting canopy settlements and overgrown ruins. Trade is risky and slow, but essential. Canoes and sailboats laden with dried foodstuffs, jungle-grown fibers, preserved herbal compounds, and reclaimed metalwork drift down swollen rivers, forming the economic veins of Oregon’s drowned interior. Communities specialize by ecological zone—some harvesting rare fungi and resins deep within the jungle, others trading in freshwater fish, insect protein, or exotic fruits adapted from the tropics. Metal goods, especially tools and weaponry, are in high demand and often fabricated from reclaimed urban scrap. The jungle’s rapid overgrowth buries and distorts salvage, so skilled "relikers" and ruin-guides command premium prices for both goods and knowledge. Coastal settlements on the Cascadian Sea act as hubs for trade with surviving territories to the south or the temperate highlands of Washington, though the journey is perilous and coin payments often include hazard premiums.

Inland, the presence of coin allows for the rise of micro-economies and even proto-states, often governed by guilds or protector clans. Some ridge-top strongholds mint their own coinage, sometimes mixed with religious iconography or clan emblems to assert sovereignty. Markets form near ruins, rivers, or at jungle clearings during seasonal festivals, where traders exchange exotic creatures, jungle spices, or relics for coins, favors, and survival gear. Without centralized governance, economic stability relies on dense webs of personal obligation, local codes, and networks of coin-backed trust. In this lush, chaotic Oregon, wealth isn’t just measured in gold—it’s measured in what you can trade, defend, or grow in the shadow of the jungle.

The most stable and high-value trade occurs at the northern border, where Oregon meets Washington across the Bridge of the Gods. The area around the Columbia River Gorge has become a militarized trade chokepoint—a mist-drenched boundary of civilization and wilderness. Here, Oregonian goods like tropical medicinal resins, rare pigments, giant insect chitin, and exotic spices are exchanged for Washington’s manufactured goods, preserved grains, and hardy vegetables. The Washingtonians accept Oregonian coinage in limited forms but prefer tangible trade goods. Caravans from Washington bring salt, steel tools, wool, and lumber, though access is tightly controlled, and tariffs are enforced by Washington border guards and mercenary guilds. Mutual dependency maintains a tense peace, and guild envoys or religious orders often act as go-betweens to enforce contracts and adjudicate disputes.

Well now! A little tweaking, a little editing, and I could turn this into a whole setting book for  Oregon...if I wanted to do that. Which I don't really because...it's Oregon. Also, because there's already a setting book for the Beaver State (Wampus Country is gonzo OD&D, and ain't half bad).

But all I need is a jungle. Which is why I'm content to let AI do my writing and research for me on the subject. To me, the most important thing is that the jungle is THERE (and where I want it). It's just something I like to have on hand when certain types of adventure pop into my brain.

My kids have never been to the
Yucatan...it would be a lot easier to visit 
Palenque if it was in Oregon.

A Barbarian Alternative

Of course, I realize AFTER posting my barbarian rant I realized I had already posted my own B/X version of the barbarian. Obviously, Blogging & Beer don’t always mix.

Well, in defense of my reverse stance on barbarians, I will say that PREVIOUSLY I was caught up “in the moment” when everyone was high on Pat’s excellent B/X Sword & Sorcery mix. However, even in B/X there’s very little reason to have a barbarian “class.” For reasons already cited, I feel that “barbaric” is a descriptive term that is easily applied to any of the original archetypal classes, and a barbaric fighter makes a fine “barbarian.”

That being said, the REAL REASON for my barbarian rant was as prelude to THIS post wherein I give an alternative class that, while perhaps non-archetypal, doesn’t seem to fit anywhere else.

The Beastmaster.

Now I’m sure plenty of you are rolling your eyes and recalling Marc Singer’s bronzed perfection and vapid/obtuse face from the 1982 film, but give me a moment or two to make my case.

Yes, I too have seen the (TBS Beloved) film about a hundred times on television, and Singer makes me wince a way Schwarzenegger never did (at least in the original Conan the Barbarian). But the story is pure fantasy…there’s no “real world” equivalent of the places or cultures in the film and the thing could easily be translated as a straight D&D adventure (with about as much “story” as usually comes from such adventures; i.e. not much), including the “dungeon setting” (temple) that the title character has to navigate towards the end of the movie.

Characters that communicate with beasts and birds…and who use those alliances to overcome obstacles…are nothing new in fantasy literature or film. Tarzan is, of course, the ultimate “beast master” character, and Sheena: Queen of the Jungle is his female counterpart. But other characters with animal buddies can act as inspirations for a beast master character from Kipling’s Mowgli to James Silk’s version of Frazetta’s Death Dealer.

Would Disney’s Cinderella or Snow White be considered beast masters? Quite possibly…and it doesn’t get much more fairy tale than that.

Unlike the barbarian, there’s really no archetypal equivalent of the beastmaster in D&D as written. Hmm, I may need to elaborate a bit so you folks know exactly where I’m coming from.

BY CONTRAST:

The “barbarian” ALREADY has an archetype in D&D. It is called The Fighter. Not true, say some, the barbarian class of AD&D provides better hit points, freebie bonuses, class restrictions, and a number of “skills,” none of which are possessed by the fighter class. HOWEVER:

- Inflating hit dice or additional ability bonuses are not a “change of archetype.” They’re simply “grade inflation.” If you want every barbarian to have a huge number of hit points & cat-like grace say “your fighter needs a DEX and CON of 13+ (or 16+) to be considered a barbarian.”

- Class restrictions are artificial impositions that can be placed on any character class by any player. The DM can say, “To be considered a true ‘barbarian,’ you may not wear armor heavier than X.” Alternatively, the DM could say, “To be considered a true ‘barbarian,’ you may not start with more than X gold at 1^st level.”

- Skills? Skills?! This is D&D, not D20! Characters have ability scores, and per B/X, ANY character can try to climb a rough, rock wall with an ability check. If you want to climb a sheer surface, play a thief. It’s not like there are giant sheets of marble for ‘barbarians’ to practice on “in the wild.” Don’t be ridiculous.

[by the way, the same thing goes double for the Cavalier class. There is already a cavalier archetype in D&D. It is called The Fighter. Write your OWN “Code,” folks!]

That being said, there’s NO equivalent of the beast master, despite the character’s presence in fantasy fiction. Yes, a high level cleric can “speak with animals”…but a beast master is NOT a cleric. They’re usually scantily armored (hello, Marc Singer!). They don’t have any truck with the undead. They don’t “pray” or “worship” (most appear to be fairly animistic if anything). Often, they use edged weapons (knives and spears). They aren’t granted other spells by a deity.

But really it IS the communication with animals that truly sets the beast master apart from other characters. The beast master doesn’t cast study or cast spells; hell, they can get by being illiterate pretty easily. But the ability to speak with animals AT WILL, and be listened to and gain the trust and friendship of animals…now that really is a special attribute of the beast master “class” that is unavailable to any other class.

So now we really come down to it: what the hell got me thinking about the beast master in the first place? Well, the Compleat Adventurer, of course. Of all the character classes in the book it is, interestingly enough, the beastmaster class that I’ve always remembered (its presence and its accompanying illustration) all these years. While we never had a “beast master” back in our old campaign, this is the kind of character that WOULD HAVE fit right in with the house-ruled weirdness we did have!

Not that I’m totally satisfied with the beastmaster class as written in the CA. It’s a little too convoluted and “record-keepy” for my taste; though it would be about on par with your standard AD&D character class (no more than, say, the assassin or monk). But AD&D, while definitely my “first love” in RPGs, is a game I’m no longer interested in playing, and so I’ll have to do some condensing and tightening to make it fit for my preferred B/X play.

Hmmm…level titles will be tricky. I don’t want to get stuck with terms like “man-cub” or “monkey boy.” I suppose I should read Burroughs to get some more flattering ideas for a beastmaster character class.

; )

Crap...Cannibals

Nearly missed my bus this morning as I got sucked into reading up on Raggi’s latest over at LotFP and its associated links. I know I’ve heard of Cannibal Holocaust before, but I’ve never seen the film nor do I know much about it.

Sheesh…cannibals.

I don’t know why the idea of cannibalism turns my stomach as it does. I have a fairly high tolerance level for acts of violence, filth, and depravity but cannibalism is one of the few things that really “get me.” Whether we’re talking scenes from comics (Frank Miller’s Ronin comes to mind) or scenes from film (Doomsday comes to mind). I don’t know why.

Not that watching TV shows about historic cannibals (whether the Donner party or the Maori tribes of New Zealand) bother me. Certainly I have no beef (forgive the pun) with cannibalism when it’s handled tastefully (inexcusable pun!). Observe the cannibalism in John Wick’s Orkworld…nothing incredibly terrible about eating folks whien it's part of the native traditions of a culture, in my opinion.

I guess the thing that makes me say, “ew, gross,” has more to do with the exploitive use of cannibalism in fiction…the idea that a group of folks (again, I’m not talking serial killers, as the occasional Hannibal Lecter aberration is to be expected in our crazy society), yes the idea that a GROUP of folks would hunt other humans for the purpose of using them as their preferred choice of food. THAT’s what gets me and makes my skin shudder.

And, of course, this may be the very purposeful reaction intended by the author of such “horror” works that include the eating of people. Really…you want to talk about a fate worse than death? It’s being held captive waiting for your turn on the butcher block. Ugh!

Anyway, as relates to role-playing in general and D&D specifically, I find it interesting that, in looking back over my own gaming history, I have never made cannibalism a part of my games. Not for horror, or suspense, or even humor (the Bugs Bunny in the stew pot variety). Human sacrifice, yes. Impalement and head-hunting, sure. Cannibalism…big, fat no. And this is despite playing many adventures set in “savage” or “lost land” settings (Dwellers of the Forbidden City, the Isle of Dread, and my own knock-offs). If I wanted to take the journey into cannibalistic terror, I had the vehicles to do so but the thought NEVER EVEN OCCURRED TO ME. It is like a curious blind-spot that (in retrospect) appears to stem from my queasiness surrounding the topic.

This is all just musings, folks...I don’t know if it means I’ll be adding cannibals to my future D&D games or anything, just got my brain going this morning. I give lots of props to Raggi for coming up with yet another interesting (and spine-chilling) idea for an adventure module. I hope he gets it done!
; )