The Ugliness Of Comeliness

From Dragon Magazine, issue #67:

Frank Mentzer and Francois Marcela-Froideval are already hard at work, and I am being flooded with suggestions and ideas from these Good Gentlemen. Francois uses a "Beauty" attribute for his characters, and I have come to the conclusion that you might also like to use such a rating. Here are my thoughts...

E. Gary Gygax, November 1982

Oh, man...my urge to say something snarky regarding "the French" is nearly overwhelming.  However, Monsieur Marcela-Froideval was an important figure in introducing Dungeons & Dragons...and the general role-playing hobby...to French speakers through the Casus Belli magazine (reviews and translations of which can be found over on Prince of Nothing's blog), and that alone is worthy of my respect.  But, yeah, trust a Frenchman to come to the conclusion that a "beauty" attribute was needed in his fantasy game.

Gygax, though, should've known better.

Instead, his "thoughts" on the a beauty attribute led to the creation of a new, seventh ability score called comeliness, made official with the advent of the Unearthed Arcana. Comeliness appeared in the UA pretty much exactly as presented in Dragon, save that the effect of high level magical scores provided an effect similar to the new 2nd level illusionist spell fascinate (in the original Dragon article, Gygax lists the effect as similar to charm person). For those who've never heard of this new ability score, I'll note that it never appears in any other edition of D&D...the shelf life of this 'wonderful addition' lasted all of  four years in "officialdom."

To understand why I am so sour on comeliness, I need to first explain why I rather LOVE the charisma ability score. Charisma, while an abstract attribute, is still an excellent way to measure an very real trait possessed by real life humans.  We see examples of people with (and without) "charisma" all the time: it is that "likeability" factor, that je ne sais quoi, that "star power" that some people possess...and that others don't. It is one of those "intangibles" that coaches of pro-sports teams talk about particular players having...or lacking. It is not dependent on good looks...it is not dependent on talent. It is something else that some people have in greater measure than others...though it is impossible to measure.

The D&D game provides the mechanics needed to measure it with the charisma attribute. Mechanically, it impacts reaction rolls, loyalty, and morale of one's followers...all things that you want and need to measure in a fantasy adventure game. Remember that D&D did not come out of the tradition of the lone, cinematic hero-guy/gal, taking on the army of baddies single-handedly.  It was a game created by and for war gamers who had grown up reading adventure fiction that dealt with leaders of men and methods of outfitting and leading others into unknown dangers. Bob Howard's stories are filled with these forceful personalities (Conan is always at the head of some group of pirates or barbarians or mercenaries...and neither Belit nor Sonya of Rogatino are shown as slouches in the leadership department), and the Lord of the Rings books...an obvious inspiration for fantasy war-gaming...have plenty of "charisma" examples from Aragorn who is portrayed as "fair though appearing foul."

The charisma ability is plenty efficient in providing for the mechanical needs of the game, i.e. how one interacts with (potentially) friendly NPCs, and how one attracts (and retains) followers and henchmen. A character can have whatever appearance the player wants them to have...the handsome assassin with the charisma of 7 is still going to be off-putting and nasty, while the grizzled paladin has that "air about him" that puts folks at ease and makes them want to fight by his side.

*sigh* I could (and someday should) wax on about charisma, and how it impacts the game by the character classes that have high charismas...whether due to minimum requirements (druids, paladins, and bards) or for those choosing NOT to use the ability as a "dump stat" (say, fighters, magic-users, and thieves).  But enough digression...this post is about lambasting comeliness, not lauding comeliness.

In the campaigns of my youth, we of course used comeliness. My long-run PC had a comeliness stat even before I'd laid eyes on the Unearthed Arcana. I'll relate the anecdote from my personal history for the sake of posterity:  my best friend and co-DM, Jocelyn, called me up one afternoon in the summer of 1985; I was in my kitchen, my parents (probably) both at work.  She told me (excitedly): hey, I need you to roll a D20. What for? I said. I'll tell you afterwards, said she. So I ran to my room (because my telephone was on a cord, naturally...this was '85), and returned to the kitchen, diligently rolling the D20 on the kitchen counter, with zero idea the reason.

The die roll came up a "1." Since this was possibly some sort of saving throw, I re-rolled rather than tell my DM the result (sue me...I was 12 years old at the time), and the die came up a 20. "20," I said (figuring this was a great number). No, that won't work, she said...you have to re-roll. Now I was wondering if I should have gone with the "1."  But I rolled again, as instructed, and the die roll came up an 18. "18," I said. Okay, you have a comeliness score of 18, she told me. "What the heck is that?"

You see, Jocelyn was often the first one of our group to pick up the new book or adventure module...she had a lot of ready spending cash (care of her family), and easy access to a nearby (large) bookstore. So she had picked up the new Unearthed Arcana (before any of the other members of our group had even heard it existed) and was making sure all our regular characters had the new comeliness score duly recorded. Rather than clue us in to what we were rolling (by having us roll 3d6) she was having us roll D20s and only taking numbers that fell between 3 and 18 (us kids having little concept of "bell curves" at the time, having skipped over that boring section of the DMG).

So, for most of my 1E career in my youth, I was playing a half-elf bard with an 18 charisma and a 21 comeliness, a character who could easily fascinate any female character he met unless they possessed a wisdom score of 15+. One can imagine how that went. 

[we had far more "urban" adventures than dungeon]

But without going into the sordid details (which, one could argue, detracted from the overall gameplay), I will point out that plenty of other PCs in the game had outrageously high scores, and not just from "mystery D20 rolls." It wasn't long before ALL of us regular players (Jocelyn, Scott, Matt, and I) had our own copies of the UA, and we all incorporated comeliness as part of our standard chargen process. And being adolescents, comeliness scores became very important. 

To the point that we stopped seeing certain types of characters. Gone were dwarves, gnomes, and half-orcs. Halflings only appeared as NPC henchfolk (or the occasional thief-acrobat) and were generally considered "comic relief." Most characters were in the high teens for their COM score...a lot of elves and half-elves. My character didn't even have the highest score...one PC had a 22 comeliness. And these weren't even results from fudging dice rolls (though I would not be surprised if some were...); rather, characters with low comeliness scores would be deemed as unplayable.  No teenage kid wanted to play a character that was "plain to average" in looks...let alone "homely" or "simply ugly." Regardless of the player's own self-esteem, the teasing was merciless.

And consider that we were playing D&D as it was originally meant to be played. That is, we were not doing the "new school" thing of portraying some "character" with their tragic backstory of needing to overcome being the Ugly Duckling or whatever. For us, we were exploring the D&D game world and the character was only our vehicle...so if the character was ugly then WE were ugly.  Why would anyone want to embody that?  We were playing escapist fantasy not because we wanted to pretend to be something we were not...we were playing escapist fantasy because we wanted to do things we couldn't do in real life: Cast spells. Fight monsters with swords. Climb sheer cliffs. Etc.  No one wanted to be judged (negatively) on their looks. Shit...we could get that in our normal, daily life!

Using comeliness in-play...and especially high comeliness with its mechanical effects...led to the game becoming different. No longer was Charisma a wonderful stat for modeling "leaders of men" and "commanding presence." Instead, when interacting with NPCs (and with other PCs!) we were more concerned with that O So Important first impression...and just how much mileage one could get out of manipulating someone before the comeliness effect wore off.  It became, in fact, a method of PVP for the players at the table, a weapon to be wielded both directly and indirectly (through the ability to influence NPCs)...a method of 'one-upping' other players, promoting rivalries, creating resentments, grudges, and hurt feelings.

Comeliness contributed to the decline and eventual death of our campaign.

Yeah, that probably sounds overly dramatic...and probably is (I am writing of events that occurred some 30+ years ago). Definitely it was more than just "comeliness" that led to the breakdown of that first, long-running game of AD&D between me and the friends of my youth. However, let me add one more anecdote from my history:  after my gaming group broke up (shortly after we'd all entered high schools), I got the urge to play D&D again...probably around my sophomore or junior year of high school. And I started a new 1E campaign, running a game for my brother and a couple of his friends.  It lasted a few months...long enough for the PCs to get up to level 12 or thereabouts (we were doing the Giants-series when we all lost interest or got too busy to continue). But we didn't use comeliness in that game at all. In fact, I'm not sure I allowed ANY of the UA rules for that campaign...though I might be misremembering.

Anyway.

Regardless of what I may or may not incorporate from the rest of the Unearthed Arcana, I have long since determined that comeliness is NOT an ability score I want in my game. If I want a handsome prince or beautiful princess in my game, I'll put them in without any such score. If I want a more "fairytale feel" to the campaign, I'll link their outward beauty to their inherent Charisma; if I want something more "true to life," I won't. But I really don't see any benefit to including an objective measurable stat for how pleasant or unpleasant a person appears.

This is a funny illo, though.

Besides...isn't beauty in the eye of the beholder? Just because Gimli has a thing for ancient elf queens, doesn't mean most dwarves wouldn't prefer dwarvish women, right? Wouldn't a halfling be a bit off-put by the sheer size of a human? Why one stat, one scale, for all species? That's not how the biology of species works...a cat doesn't eye-up a good-looking dog. Jeez.

Comeliness...out.

D&D Combat

Good morning! Sorry, it's been a while...last week was busy, as was the weekend, though we did have a chance to get back to our on-going exploration of Dragon Wrack. Unfortunately for the kids, the session didn't end well.

It started well enough: they found the hoard of great the red dragon, Usumgallu, and looted the hell out of it for about an hour (for the adventure module, I created a procedure for searching dragon hoards, given that players generally want to pick out the best bits of these piles; it's in the appendix). Time was of the essence as the approaching Red Wing of the dragon army was close to arriving...had they exited the temple-fortress via the tunnel to the dragon pits outside the city, they would have found themselves quickly barbecued. 

However, they instead decided to go back up to he temple proper and find a different exit, blundering into the Black Wing's color guard standing watch over their army's battle standard. While four elite orcs aren't a match for an eight-strong band of seasoned adventurers, the horns and sounds of combat brought another 40 orcs who completely surprised the party and quickly grappled them...all except the assassin, Salamander, whose 17 dexterity allowed him to react, and whose boots of speed allowed him to escape capture.

Total treasure found: 296,147 g.p. plus a huge assortment of unidentified magic items. However, more than half of that was in a bag of holding that was captured by the orcs. Salamander absconded with the party's other bag of holding (it is his, after all). Diego plans on attempting a rescue of the prisoners (that will be our next session). but he's not terribly thrilled at the prospect.

I wanted to write a bit about running D&D combat, especially AD&D combat. I get a lot of questions on the subject (usually via private email), and have thrown in my two cents on various blogs and forums elsewhere. Combat is not, in my opinion, a very difficult thing to do, but one needs to approach it from the right perspective; the correct mindset, I find, is incredibly helpful.

First off, remember D&D is a game. Hold that firmly in mind. I will elaborate on this in a second, but it's important enough to mention first. 

Second, one has to understand that D&D's roots are literary, not cinematic. It is to be expected (these days) that a lot of people coming to the game form many of their assumptions of fantasy adventure from films and television shows (both live-action and animated) that they have watched.  However, it is not useful to think of D&D combat in terms of what one sees on the screen. Cinematic combat, like all things in a cinematic story, is supposed to exist for one (or both) of two reasons: to develop a character or further the plot. 

[of course, some filmmakers will also do combat simply for entertainment (fan service/expectation, etc.) which is why some combat scenes might be called "gratuitous," but let's not digress too much]

Because cinema is a visual medium, combat needs to be visually interesting, and over the years elaborate choreography has been developed to appeal to an audience that (presumably) has watched countless "fight scenes" over the years and need different, more elaborate or intense, forms of stimulation to maintain the viewers' engagement. Scenes play out with fancy maneuvers, camera zooms on individual 'moves' and actions, each swing of the blade being emphasized, each punch or kick being given attention, slow motion being employed to show the specific tripping or headbutting or individual wound that causes a specific form of pain and suffering.  

It is akin to the comic book form of story telling, where each individual panel is a moment of frozen time, to be lingered over by the reader's eye.

Generally speaking, combat in literature is nothing like this. Whether you're talking Tolkien or Howard or any of the other fantasy/pulp influences on D&D, the literary medium is not a place you will find blow-by-blow combat scenes...certainly not on the scale one finds in TV and film.

"About turn!" [Gandalf] shouted. "Draw your sword Thorin!"

There was nothing else to be done, and the goblins did not like it. They came scurrying around the corner in full cry, and found Goblin-cleaver, and Foe-hammer shining cold and bright right in their astonished eyes. The ones in front dropped their torches and gave one yell before they were killed. The ones behind yelled still more, and leaped back knocking over those running after them. "Biter and Beater!" they shrieked, and soon they were all in confusion, and most of them were hurling back the way they had come.

The Hobbit, Chapter 4 (Tolkien)

He beat the creature off with his hands -- it was trying to poison him, as small spiders do to flies -- until he remembered his sword and drew it out. Then the spider jumped back, and he had time to cut his legs loose. After then it was his turn to attack. The spider was evidently not used to things that carried such stings at their sides, or it would have hurried away quicker. Bilbo came at it before it could disappear and stuck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke....

The Hobbit, Chapter 8 (Tolkien)

Jehungir did not try again. That was his last arrow. He drew his scimitar and advanced, confident in his spired helmet and close-meshed mail. Conan met him half-way in a blinding whirl of swords. The curved blades ground together, sprang apart, circled in glittering arcs that blurred the sight which tried to follow them. Octavia, watching, did not see the stroke, but she heard its chopping impact, and saw Jehungir fall, blood spurting from his side where the Cimmerian's steel had sundered his mail and bitten to his spine.

The Devil In Iron (Howard)

Shifting his reddened scimitar to his left hand, he drew the great half-blade of the Yuetshi. Khosatral Khel was towering above him, his arms lifted like mauls, but as the blade caught the sheen of the sun, the giant gave back suddenly. 

But Conan's blood was up. He rushed in, slashing with the crescent blade. And it did not splinter. Under its edge the dusky metal of Khosatral's body gave way like common flesh beneath a cleaver. From the deep gash flowed a strange ichor, and Khosatral cried out like the dirging of a great bell. His terrible arms flailed down, but Conan, quicker than the archers who had died beneath those awful flails, avoided their strokes and struck again and yet again. Khosatral reeled and tottered; his cries were awful to hear, as if metal were given a tongue of pain, as if iron shrieked and bellowed under torment.

Then wheeling away he staggered into the forest; he reeled in his gait, crashed through bushes and caromed off trees. Yet though Conan followed him with the speed of hot passion, the walls and towers of Dagon loomed through the trees before the man came within dagger-reach of the giant.

Then Khosatral turned again, flailing the air with desperate blows, but Conan, fired to berserk fury, was not to be denied. As a panther strikes down a bull moose at bay, so he plunged under the bludgeoning arms and drove the crescent blade to the hilt under the spot where a human's heart would be.

Khosatral reeled and fell.

The Devil Iron (Howard)

Five Picts were dancing about them with fantastic leaps and bounds, waving bloody axes; one of them brandished the woman's red-smeared gown. 

At the sight a red haze swam before Balthus. Lifting his bow he lined the prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer leaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then the two men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan was animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate, but Balthus was afire with wrath. 

He met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split the painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the others. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and the leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with the long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning toward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his great jaws dripping blood.

Balthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in the road beside the burning wain. 

Beyond the Black River, Chapter 6 (Howard)

I could go on, of course, citing other examples. I'm currently reading E.C. Tubb's Dumarest saga, a series of science fiction books that seem to have been a major influence on Marc Miller's Traveller game (I am considering starting a classic Traveller campaign and want some inspiration). Reading these old SciFi pulps from the 60s and 70s, one finds plenty of action (Dumarest is a pretty beefy action hero) is less "dripping blood" than in Howard's Conan stuff, but it's still pretty good adventure fiction. It is also well devoid of blow-by-blow tactical exchanges. The specific details of fights are glossed over, unimportant: "they attacked." "he struggled." "the enemy fell, dead." Etc. And then the book goes back to the story, the adventure, at hand.

D&D comes from a literary tradition. It is not D&D's fault that people don't read like they used to; it's not D&D's fault that people discover fantasy through a movie or cartoon instead of a book. But it is OUR fault, if we make the mistake of wanting combat in D&D to be as elaborate and cinematic as we see in an episode of Game of Thrones, and feel disappointed by what the game offers.

Again, back to my first point: D&D is a game. It is NOT a game of combat...it is a game of fantasy adventure. Combat is an important aspect of fantasy adventure: you see this in the literary medium which spawned D&D. Thus, one needs specific rules for running combat. However, combat in and of itself is not the be-all, end-all of the genre. It is just one aspect, and requires only as much importance as what it gets.

Thus, we have D&D (or, for my purposes, AD&D) combat. We have attack rolls and damage rolls and hit points. We have initiative. We have surprise. We have lists of armor and weapons, and we have rules for minor tactical maneuvers: charging, attacking people that flee, auto-hits on characters that have been paralyzed by magic effects, etc. It is not an elaborate game of strike, parry, dodge, roll with punch, strike for weak spots, etc...it is an abstract system for resolving fights quickly and simply. Because that's what it emulates. You want that other stuff, go play Palladium (Kevin Siembieda was a comic book guy FIRST, and it shows in his system). You want realism with regard to death and dismemberment, go play 1st edition Stormbringer (which wonderfully emulates the non-heroic literature of Moorcock's fiction). That's not what D&D is. 

Heroic. Fantasy. Adventure. Game. 

Characters fight until they're dead, they flee, they surrender, or they're victorious. That's it. And then...back to the adventure. Back to what's going on. In a game of "resource management," hit points are the characters' most important resource...because when they're done, you're done.

Mm. Of course my players had plenty of hit points remaining when they were captured. I suppose hit points and brains are the players' most important resources, followed closely by luck. Guess I should have said "hit points are the characters' most important measurable resource." Yeah, that makes more sense.

All right...that's enough for now.

Inspirational And Educational Reading

"Inspirations for all of the fantasy work I have done stems directly from the love my father showed when I was a tad, for he spent many hours telling me stories he made up as he went along, tales of cloaked old men who could grant wishes, of magic rings and enchanted swords, or wicked sorcerers and dauntless swordsmen. Then too, countless hundreds of comic books went down, and the long-gone EC ones certainly had their effect. Science fiction, fantasy, and horror movies were a big influence. In fact, all of us tend to get ample helpings of fantasy when we are very young, from fairy tales such as those written by the Brothers Grimm and Andrew Long. This often leads to reading books of mythology, paging through bestiaries, and consultation of compilations of the myths of various lands and peoples. Upon such a base I built my interest in fantasy, being an avid reader of all science fiction and fantasy literature since 1950. The following authors were of particular inspiration to me. In some cases I cite specific works, in others I simply recommend all their fantasy writing to you. From such sources, as well as just about any other imaginative writing or screenplay you will be able to pluck kernels from which grow the fruits of exciting campaigns. Good reading!"

[Inspirational Reading list follows, then:]

"The most immediate influences upon AD&D were probably de Camp & Pratt, REH, Fritz Leiber, Jack Vance, HPL, and A. Merritt; but all of the above authors, as well as many not listed certainly helped to shape the form of the game. For this reason, and for the hours of reading enjoyment, I heartily recommend the works of these fine authors to you."

Gary Gygax's much lauded "Appendix N" shows up on page 224 of the first edition DMG...a list of fantasy books and authors that EGG held up as particularly inspirational and influential to his writing of the Dungeons & Dragons game. 

Yet, despite being enjoyable reading, none of these books will provide much of a map or outline of how to run the game of D&D or even describe (much) of what a D&D game should look like. Oh, there similar themes, scenes, and events that might be found in any particular game session. But while "Appendix N" may give one a good feel for the fantasy that shaped the imaginations of Gygax, Arneson, etc. they are not instructional when it comes to teaching the game of Dungeons & Dragons. Trying to run your game so that it looks like a Howard or Leiber story will, at best, result in some kind of pastiche or homage to those authors. 

And while creating such pastiche can be good fun, it stagnates readily enough, much as any type of "railroad gaming" becomes (sooner or later) stale and unsatisfactory. In this case, the railroad is one of genre, rather than story...though, of course, hewing too closely to any fictional inspiration can result in the DM using force to that end as well. "Don't let the rules (or dice rolls) get in the way of telling a good story" is an aphorism sadly parroted throughout RPG circles...even those styling themselves as "Old School" gamers.

Despite the long list of monsters and magic and concepts (like "alignment") that were taken from these authors...in much the same way that mythology and books of historic medieval armaments were purloined for the game...Dungeons & Dragons, as a game, neither models nor even attempts to model these stories. And attempting to run one's game so that it looks like a Howard or Leiber or (God forbid!) Lovecraft story is a fool's errand and a disservice to the game itself. 

Dungeon Masters are not authors; at least, not when we are operating in our role as Dungeon Master. 

The job of an author is to tell a story. Short stories provide a problem or scenario for the protagonist to struggle against; long stories (novels) show how a protagonist develops and changes over time given the events of the book. Both of these apply to the Dungeons & Dragons game (our player characters struggle in the immediate term against the challenges set by the DM and over time they grow and change), but in D&D this is done without a directed course. There s no premise being addressed, no theme being explored, no climax that needs to be met. A game of D&D is NOT a story, not in the way the books in Appendix N are. 

It is, rather, the "story of our lives," which is to say the process of living and existing...even though the lives being lived are completely and wholly of our imagination. This may sound ridiculous, but D&D is an experiential (fantasy) adventure game and, in the end "living" an imaginary life is what the game play...for players...boils down to. 

In this regard, I believe that Tolkien's book The Hobbit may be the closest of the Appendix N books to describing a D&D campaign. Yes, it has all the trappings: monsters, treasure, spells, "dungeons" (the goblin caves, the elf king's halls, the Lonely Mountain), swords and wizards and "demi-humans." But the novel is far more than just its recognizable "fantasy" tropes: Here is a world setting, carefully crafted by its maker. Here are events and challenges faced by a group of protagonists, cooperating for mutual success. Here are choices being offered that may lead to peril and/or the possibility of reward, and always with additional, character-driven consequences...consequences which, in turn, shape the on-going campaign and the narrative ("story") of that campaign.

And here, also, are the logistical issues of adventure...those aspects that change the game from a simple fairy tale adventure story, to an immersive experience with verisimilitude. Issues of food and shelter, baggage trains, overland travel, and inclement weather. Relationships with powerful individuals that need to be groomed and/or carefully managed (not just Beorn, but the goblin king, the elf king, the Master of Lake Town, etc.). These aspects of "life" cannot be ignored if one seeks to play D&D over the long-term...the manner of play in which it reaches its highest level.

Conan's episodic adventures, enjoyable as they are, are adolescent at best, in comparison.

In this regard, The Hobbit is highly reminiscent of H. Rider Haggard's classic adventure novel, King Solomon's Mines. Despite its 19th century timeline and lack of "classic fantasy" tropes, Haggard's book has plenty of D&D-style adventure in its pages: exploration and privation, treasure seeking and combat, ancient, subterranean labyrinths (complete with traps), and interpersonal relationships with NPCs both helpful and hostile. Despite its anachronistic setting and the shortness of its scope (the book details only one "adventure" per se...though an admittedly massive one), there is a lot for the DM to learn about crafting a scenario worthy of the long-term D&D campaign.

Haggard's book also demonstrates how much raw power and adventure can be generated just using the history, cultures, mythology and geography of our own world. Rather than invent from whole cloth, or create pastiche of favorite fantasy books and films, most Dungeon Masters will find it more productive to seek out the same sources of inspiration and educational reading that informed the settings and scenarios of their favorite fantasy authors (like those in Appendix N): namely, the non-fiction books concerning our real world. Most, if not all, of the strange and weird cultures and situations described from Bracket and Moorecock, Howard and Leiber, are simple re-skinnings and/or re-imaginings of our own world's past (and, in some cases, its present). Many are the neophyte DM who disregards or downplays the "banality" of our mundane "real world" in favor of "true fantasy," failing to understand that the fantasy authors they best love and admire were drawing directly from real world sources. Before the last century or two, our world  had thousands of years of untamed wilderness, mighty cultures (rising and falling), supernatural beliefs, perilous journeys, and adventurous folk of all languages and skin tones looking to find "fortune and glory." That many of us equate "adventure stories" with European/Western colonialism is a sad commentary on the lack of depth in our literary inventory: we read of crusader knights and gold-hungry Spaniards and completely neglect the fact that there are humans in every corner of the globe and history who have sought to rise above their station through adventurous means. 

"Fortune-hunting adventurer" has NEVER been the exclusive purview of white dudes.

However, let us not digress too far from the subject at hand: creating an easy-to-follow blueprint for running Dungeons & Dragons. The DMG is, of course, a great sourcebook and place to start...kind of like the Bible is a nice book to read if you want to be a Christian. But, just as Christianity (any form) needs a bit more to find a lasting and satisfying spiritual life, you're going to need more than just your copy of Gygax's opus.

As of today, the BEST books I've read that describe a typical "Gygaxian campaign" of the AD&D variety are those written by Gygax himself, specifically Saga of Old City and Artifact of Evil. These are...admittedly...terrible books, but they are EXCELLENT descriptions of what a 1E campaign would look like, especially the latter book (Artifact). They aptly demonstrate the weird, kitchen-sink fantasy of Gygax, show how alignment works, displays the emphasis of mass combat (while still maintaining small-scale, personal action), and pays no nevermind to the various anachronisms of speech and culture that crop up during a game session. D&D play is not about method acting or historical reenactment; it is a game designed to be experienced by the players. Reading these books, while perhaps painful to the more erudite amongst us, does show what your average, competent 1E campaign looks like if you play with all the bells & whistles of the original seven volumes (DMG, PHB, MM, MM2, FF, DDG, UA). 

That doesn't make it a great campaign...but it does make it a great example. And probably the best example in print (apologies to Dave Arneson and his First Fantasy Campaign book).

Now, in my next post, I'll discuss the foundational text for creating your own campaign; not the DMG or anything in its "Appendix N," but a pertinent book written with a similar, parallel objective in mind: Tony Bath's Ancient Wargaming.

Of Dragons And Elves

Moving right along...

Probably should have drawn some attention to Prince of Nothing's second installment of his No ArtPunk contest. My adventure was able to crack the Top 5 this year (though I believe a late entry knocked it down to #6), so...guess what?...it's going in the compilation book. Which is pretty cool but means that UNlike last year's offering (Hell's Own Temple) I will not be offering the thing for free on my blog: pick up the compilation when it arrives (hopefully before New Year) and Pay What You Will to the charity Prince designated.

One thing I like about the contest (besides an excuse to write adventures and a chance to test myself against other designers) is the opportunity it affords to discuss various aspects of "adventure design." In fact, one commenter suggested I blog my own thoughts and stipulations on how to write adventures...and someday, hopefully, I will (actually, I started writing such a post last month; still in draft form).

But TODAY, I want to come back to the "world building" thing. I've been thinking a lot about world building lately...mainly due, I think, to the shows I've been watching: Andor (Star Wars), House of the Dragon (GRRM), and Rings of Power (Tolkien). I could write (long) blog posts on every one of these series, but for today's purpose I just want to talk about how each one expresses a different fictional world/universe of its creator(s)...fictional worlds in which fans of these shows are, more or less, fully invested.

Hmm...quick aside: I have also been rereading The Silmarillion because I wanted to refresh my memory of Tolkien's Second Age as the RoP series seems "off" (and it is, and I'm not a fan of the liberties the show has taken with Tolkien's timeline. OTOH, modifications like racially diverse fairy creatures and warrior elf women bother me zero. The Silmarillion is, of course, a tour de force of world building, and might as well be an alternate reality compared to the TV series' version.

But let's leave Tolkien's book out of the mix for a moment, because it is DIFFERENT from these other examples of world building...and not just because "text" is a different medium from "television." 

The thing is: all of these TV examples of built worlds exist and are written/created for a very specific purpose: to tell stories. Multiple stories, actually, BUT, still: very specific stories. 

Andor is the story of one man's rise to being a top agent in a guerrilla war against a tyrannical Empire. Side stories include the formation of rebellion, the Empire's response to rebellion, and individual character arcs and side-stories.

House of the Dragon is the story of the Westeros civil war between competing branches of the ruling family. It's not very much different from any other "family drama" centered around the rich and powerful (The Sopranos, Succession, Monarch, Vikings, Blue Bloods, Big Love, etc., etc.). Side stories are generally limited to individual character arcs, all of which contribute to describing individual personalities that fuel the family's struggle against itself.

Rings of Power is the story of how Amazon attempted to recoup its $250 million investment in an established IP with a built-in fan base. Ha! Just kidding. No, it's the story of how a one-time on-line book dealer made a push to become a corporate media giant on par with the Disneys of the world, and attempting to maintain a step ahead of AppleTV.

Okay, no, let's be serious for a moment. Rings of Power is a bit of a mess...and not simply because it makes hackwork of Tolkien's rich and thoughtful world crafting. Mm. I really wasn't going to talk about this, but it's at least a little pertinent. Ostensibly, the RoP series is about...well, nothing really. Just Middle Earth before the Peter Jackson LotR films. Does everyone know what a premise is? Here's a good definition:

The premise of a text such as a book, film, or screenplay is the initial state of affairs that drives the plot. Most premises can be expressed very simply, and many films can identified simply from a short sentence describing the premise. Examples: a lonely boy is befriended by an alien; a small town is terrorized by a shark; a small boy sees dead people. 

That's from Ye Old Wikipedia. Here's what the Wik quotes for the premise of Rings of Power:

Set thousands of years before the events of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, the series is based on author J. R. R. Tolkien's history of Middle-earth. It begins during a time of relative peace and covers all the major events of Middle-earth's Second Age: the forging of the Rings of Power, the rise of the Dark Lord Sauron, the fall of the island kingdom of Númenor, and the last alliance between Elves and Men.^[1] These events take place over thousands of years in Tolkien's original stories but are condensed for the series.^[2]

See, that's not a premise. That's just a description of what you're going to get in the show: fan service for (film-)Tolkien-philes. Sweeping vistas of New Zealand. Funny/lovable hobbits. Badass elves slaying orcs because they're so fast and agile ('cause being big and strong is never an advantage, right?). Dwarves in amazing subterranean set-pieces. Fantasy languages being spoken fluently. Men of iron and honor and stout hearts and great facial hair. Call backs to the popular films and name drops for the true Tolkien nerds out there (like myself). Etc, etc.

But there's no single story here. We have multiple points of views, multiple "things going on," and the only thing tenuously tying it together is the fact that it's all set in Tolkein's universe. That's it! Elrond hanging with the dwarves. Galadriel on her personal quest. Elf dude and his forbidden love. Human mother-son tandem dealing with orcs. Numenorean family dealing with their own shit. Other Numenorean family dealing with other unrelated shit. Proto-hobbits struggling to survive. Dwarves dealing with THEIR issues. Evil elves looking for Sauron. Gil-Galad's elves are withering. I mean...*sigh*.

Look, let's talk about three fairly successful TV series that including multiple POV characters with multiple "story arcs:" Lost, Downton Abbey, and Game of Thrones. In all three cases there is a central premise that UNITES all the characters and stories together: a hub around which the spokes of the wheel rotates. For Lost, it's that all these different, distinct people with distinct agendas are trapped on a mysterious island. In Downton Abbey, for both the aristocrats upstairs and the servants downstairs, their lives revolve around the enormous manor house (Downton) in which they live and work. For Game of Thrones, you have three distinct families (the Starks, Lannisters, and Targaryans) all vying for rulership of Westeros.

[that IS what GoT is about in the end: the Targaryan queen's conquest of the eastern continent is just a step in her grand strategy to take back the Iron Throne. The Lannister's protection of their house and fight with the Starks is just their desire to maintain their hold on the Throne. And the Stark's war of revenge with the Lannisters? What do you figure is their endgame if they win? Of course, they'd take the throne! What else would they do? Even the whole "white walker" storyline is secondary to this (Jon Snow's quest to unite the realm against the undead is just another form of conquest through diplomacy). There's a constant thread throughout the show of individuals seeking to climb higher and higher, hoping (eventually) to end up on the Throne, at the pinnacle of power]

Rings of Power has...nothing. It's just sightseeing in Middle Earth (with occasional...and brief...side-treks to Numenor and Valinor). Storylines are ramped up for drama value...and then connected only by the barest of coincidence, often feeling forced or contrived (both adjectives aptly applied). Please understand: I'm not decrying the acting or direction or editing or dialogue or fight choreography or anything. Just the overall story/writing/plotting of the show. You can praise the reimagining (or bitch about the mangling) of Tolkien's mythology, but as a television series, the show lacks a solid, unifying theme, except maybe "life is inexplicably hard in Middle Earth despite the conspicuous lack of a Dark Lord threatening everyone."

Seriously! This is the time between Morgoth's dominion and Sauron's ascendancy and the various peoples of ME are worse off and more stressed than Jackson's free peoples? Whaaaat? Are you just trying to drum up drama here, showrunners?

[probably, because...again...there's no central premise/story here]

Contrast that with The Silmarillion (just to come back to that): the point of Tolkien's opus was to create a rich mythology of England that could...in some other reality...stand as an alternate, prehistoric history, explaining both the existence of fairytale creatures and the evolution of the English language (and nicely paralleling Tolkien's Catholic belief system). But it is mythology...it is a creation story, a fiction along the lines of the Judaic Genesis, albeit with elves and dragons. It is not literature...it is not a novel. It is an imagined story of the world, not for the world (i.e. the reader). When Tolkien does spin a yard (as in his Lord of the Rings trilogy) it is around a unified premise and plot, even when the text is split between multiple point of view narratives: the book may jump from Gondor to Rohan to Mordor, but everyone is still talking about The Ring and the war against Sauron, right?

All right, JB: so what's the point here? What does any of THIS have to do with world building for Dungeons & Dragons?

So, all right...I'm assuming here that you're already on the same page as me as far as the absolute importance of world building, at least so far as it comes to running a rich and satisfying, long-term campaign that both the DM and players can invest in and engage with (if you're not there yet, um, none of this will probably matter to you...). When most of us sit down to "build a world" we're constructing it from an eclectic variety of sources: real world history and geography, mythology, and (of course) fiction, fantastical or otherwise. For folks who are initially drawn to D&D through fantasy serials...like Tolkien or Martin, for instance, or the "space fantasy" of George Lucas...inspiration is likely to come from these sources.

And yet the world building that goes into MOST literature (and its television adaptations) is there in order to serve the needs of the story. Hobbits are present because the author wants to show the triumph of the humble everyman over The Wise or The Impossibly Powerful Evil. Luke Skywalker grows up on a humble backwater planet in a run-down galaxy (rather than some sort of Philip K. Dick urban sprawl) to draw parallels with similar hero stories of the Kid-From-The-Sticks being pulled into the Wider World. Martin has White Walkers and dragons because he's a big D&D nerd and wants to do this Fire/Ice contrast thing against a pseudo-War of the Roses fantasy retelling. The setting (i.e. the world the author has built) only needs to be as  solidly constructed as it is useful to the storytelling.

But D&D is not about telling stories (stop me if you've heard this before). It is a game of fantasy adventure. The rules of the system are there to facilitate play of that game...and the act of game play is an experiential one (okay, I know I've written that before). And because of that, because players are experiencing the world through their surrogates (i.e. their characters), it must have enough verisimilitude to facilitate that experience. Which is probably DEEPER world construction than what an author (or show runner) requires for the telling of a story.

Let's say you're playing an adventure scenario that features a small village (call it a hundred or so souls) with a small. three-level dungeon nearby. The party wants to hire some meat...er, "extra swordsmen"...to bolster their numbers. The party is circa 5th level with a well-stocked war chest, and can offer each man 10 or 20 or 25 gold pieces per day (in addition to arming them)...more money than a farmer might expect to earn in a month or more (depending on your fantasy economy). 

[FYI: 1 day of grain for a horse in AD&D is one silver piece. An active, 1000 pound horse eats about 9 pounds of grain (in addition to grazing)...so let's call it 10 pounds of grain per silver or 200 pounds of grain per gold piece. A medieval farm was about 30 acres on average and would produce 7-15 bushels of grain per acre (60 pounds per bushel). SO: 1 average farm produces an annual yield of (11 x 30) = 330 bushels = 19,800 pounds = 99 g.p. worth of grain annually or 8.25 g.p. per month. However, in a poor year that yield might drop to less than 4 bushels per acre...which would produce (on average) less than 7,200 pounds of grain. That's an annual return of under 36 gold pieces (3 gold pieces per month!)]

So all these strapping lads...and adult farmers suffering from a poor harvest (or who have been a victim of raids from the humanoids in the nearby dungeon) jump at the chance to earn hard coin carrying a sword, regardless of the danger. After all, everyone has a price...when the price gets high enough, you'll get your red shirts to line up. And the party does. And they go into the dungeon and all the hired swords get butchered. Then the party returns to the village, rich with treasure, and offer MORE money for swords...and get them. And then those 0-level "warriors" get gutted in the next foray. And then they return again. And again. And again.

At what point does the village run out of strong backs? At what point have enough able-bodied farmers get slaughtered that there's no one left to bring in the harvest...forcing the abandonment of the village and/or the starvation of the populace?

Without world building, new cardboard cutouts sprog from the countryside as often as needed. With world building, the resource of hirelings becomes another challenge to be solved. Especially if the DM is on the ball and giving the people actual personalities. Families wondering what ditch Dad or Brother Bill or Sister Sue ended up dying in, and whether or not this band of rich adventurers actually deserve praise for their actions or...rather...scorn and eventual lynching.

Back to Tolkien...real Tolkien, not "Amazon Tolkien"...for a second. It's often been said that Middle Earth, despite its richness is not a great setting for an adventure campaign specifically because so much of the world's "story" and history has already been told by Tolkien himself. That there is no room for "new heroes" in a world that already contains Frodo and Bilbo, Aragorn and Gandalf, Beren and Luthien, etc.

I do not disagree with the sentiment, only with its reasoning. The fact is: Tolkien's world is not ROBUST enough to facilitate D&D. Even going back and using the earlier Ages found in The Silmarillion. Look at how few people enter into the stories: a tiny handful of families. Three branches of the Edain. A half dozen elvish clans. A couple-three instances of human-elf mating. Maybe a dozen dwarf families and twice that in Hobbiton.

Our world...our REAL world...has hundreds and thousands and millions of stories that could be told of individuals and families, even if you confine your setting to limited regions and periods of history. That's because there are far more people in our world than in Tolkien's. Prior to 1500 CE, the population of Europe (a geographic region about on par with Middle Earth) accounted for 10% of the world population and hovered right around the 25 million mark from the 1st-10th centuries. Tolkien's population has been estimated as never getting much beyond 20-30% of that range (here's a true Tolkien nerd who's done his best to calculate pop. figures from the professor's text). JRR's world, for all its rich history and thoughtful crafting, is a very small world and far less densely populated than our own.

Which, by the way, is FINE because it is a setting that he uses to tell his stories. But D&D is not a system for telling stories.

[and just as one more aside: the fact that Middle Earth is SMALL is not a knock on Tolkien's world building. If you want to look at poorly designed worlds, you need look no farther than Martin's Westeros]

And THAT, more or less, is the point: any fictional setting one creates is FINE if the whole point is to facilitate the telling of stories. A descendant of the last King of Gondor claiming a 3000-year empty throne after a tremendous victory over Satan's lieutenant? Good theater, absolutely...the fridge logic only becomes apparent when one starts contemplating the ramifications of such a political ascent. And that "good theater" thing isn't good enough for Dungeons & Dragons.

Because D&D isn't a book you close. Or a film with credits that run. 

Ideally, your D&D campaign is something you continually come back to. It is a fictional world in which you "live" (through your various characters) experiencing all the wonders and perils the setting has to offer.

All right, that should be enough scribbling/meandering for now. The only other thing I'd add is that ALL of these shows I've mentioned (yes, including Rings of Power) have given me enjoyment in the watching (some to a greater degree than others) and many hours of fantasy entertainment. And all have likewise been useful to some degree: things that I'd like to borrow/use in my own game, and/or pitfalls I'd like to avoid. 

A Different "Half-Orc"

SO...last night (Thursday) my players were creating new PCs for the campaign (because their others are all dead...natch) and my son rolled up a half-orc fighter/assassin; his FIRST half-orc character as far as I can recall.

[we don't use alignment in our games and this is far from the first assassin we'e seen, but it is (perhaps) interesting that it's taken this long to get a multi-classed one]

Right on, I said. A half-orc, huh? To which he replied something along the lines of: "Yeah, I'm thinking he was kidnapped from his orc-mother's village by humans when he was a child and forced into a reeducation program similar to what was done to Native Americans. How's that for a backstory?" Well, we really don't do backstories (he laughs), but that's not a bad one. How does he feel about orcs? "Well, he sees orcs as his people, really, and hates humans for what they did to him and other village children."

I pointed out to him that his sister's character is a human (and a cleric to boot...a lot of those Indian Residential Schools were run by Catholics or Christian missionaries). At which point he started bending over backwards to create more backstory justifying their relationship and reasons for adventuring and...'No, never mind. Not important.' Because, of course, THAT's not. The game is not about exploring complicated social dynamics based on race and trauma, the bonds of camaraderie and friendship, and the acrimony of historic abuse and cultural genocide.

Thank goodness. That wouldn't be nearly as fun.

However, as I sat in church today (my kids attend Catholic school and since the pandemic, they alternate which classes get to attend Mass on Fridays...today was my daughter's class)...I reflected on this. On this sordid piece of my religious/cultural history. It is/was a really f'ing sad piece of work all around...one that the Catholic Church has yet to apologize for (the Pope is scheduled to meet with delegates from some 30 indigenous American tribes this March...we'll see what happens).

Because...all awfulness aside...my kid's idea for using "half-orcs" is kind of brilliant.

I've done a lot of things with orcs in my games over the years. First, of course, they were just another evil minion monster looking to follow a strong evil leader (the classic trope). Later, they were "beastmen," the common sword & sorcery trope, some sort of not-quite-evolved, more bestial human (see the Moldvay description). At times, I've wanted to use them in the Tolkien sense...an evil "fey" (fairy) race, either evil by nature or corrupted by some dark power (Tolkiens' orcs are "broken" elves)...however, this always steps on the toes of the various goblinoids.

More recently, I've postulated orcs as either some sort of "created" servitor race (most likely by the sorcerous elves, for whom they hold enmity) that have thrown off their shackles and established their own brutal civilization OR ELSE "orcishness" is a type of magical mutation that occurs in the post-apocalyptic wilderness, while "half-orcs" are simply first generation mutants; the PA spin on the S&S beastman trope.

What I haven't considered...like, at all...is using the orcs as analogous to any real world people. I don't see them as Mongols or Huns or "noble savages" of ANY sort. I haven't had the desire to replace real world cultures, I definitely don't see humans in D&D as "white Europeans only" and I always wanted solid reasons for PCs to have adversarial relationships with these subterranean, cannibalistic, tool-using sentients. They ain't humans...at all.

And yet, in AD&D we have half-orcs. And, heck, they're one of only three races that can (as a matter or the PHB rules) be clerics. Wha-wha-what?

One of the things I liked about the B/X rules were their complete lack of semi-humans (half-orcs and half-elves). Leaving aside the old school racism of the "half-breed" trope (ugh!) can we say these are different species and NOT reproductively compatible with each other? Just what kind of fantasy are we playing here? If this is Greek myth...well, okay, anyone can breed with anything (that's how you get minotaurs, for example). But given the kitchen sink nature of the setting, you go too far down that road and you end up with something resembling Piers Anthony's Xanth novels. And that's NOT really the kind of game I want to run...not even close.

Now, if orcs (and elves) are just variant humans...like neanderthals and cro-magnons and whatnot...with genetic compatibility...well, okay, sure. But then orcs should be able to breed with elves...and the rules are pretty explicit in THAT prohibition (one assumes this is, again, because of Tolkien...but Tolkien himself had the orcs as corrupted elves. And drawing on northern European myth, why not have marriages between light and dark fairies? Um...pretty sure that was a thing, once upon a time).

Do I want orc-elves? No. I do not.

So, I'm considering riffing off my kid's backstory in my world's concept of "half-orcs." In my campaign humans are a transplanted species...they've only been on the planet for two or three centuries (long enough that their history...where they came from, how they got there...is mostly mysterious and lost knowledge). They are the "new kids on the block;" the other sentients were there long before with long established relationships and histories. 

Despite that...and despite the hostility they face from MANY of the sentient species on the planet...humanity is an ascendant species and have quickly adapted and, in many parts, taken over the local. There is still hostile "wilderness" to be explored (and conquered) but humanity has already managed to carve out multiple kingdoms in the region...kingdoms connected by tenuous strands of humanity.

The elves...and their relationship with humans (both socially and genetically)...is something I won't get into today, but it's fairly mapped out. The orcs, on the other hand, aren't something I considered before, other than: A) they're one of the indigenous species (unlike humans), B) they're antagonistic to the humans, and C) their capabilities (game-wise) are more-or-less as described in the PHB.

Now, however, I am thinking of half-orcs as something much more similar to the indigenous peoples of North America, and their relationship with the "new" humans being something very much like that of the indigenous people to the white (and black) settlers that came to the (Pacific Northwest) region in the 1800s.

[my game world is set in the PNW...my game map is Washington State and the surrounding area]

Unlike the actual indigenous people, orcs are not humans. However, they are close enough that the humans have attempted to assimilate them into their culture...much the way as Canadian and US governments attempted to reprogram native peoples with their own values, customs, languages, etc. And using similarly brutal and inhumane methods.

A "half-orc" then is NOT a hybrid species of human and orc. Instead, it is an orc that has been taken and culturally re-educated by the humans (good-intentioned or not). They've been taught the language, taught the skills, learned the values and etiquette, all in an attempt to make the creature "less orc." The classes available to the half-orc (fighters, clerics, thieves, and assassins) are the only ones humans would deign to teach an orc (and clerics only to 4th level), or that orcs could pick up on their own. Sorcery? Absolutely not...though within their OWN culture, they teach their own versions of sorcery and clerical magic (using the tribal spellcaster rules on page 40 of the DMG). Such individuals...derisively referred to as "witch doctors" by the humans...are not available as player characters, as their powers are only used for the good of their peoples, rather than "adventure."

Non-indoctrinated orcs, then, have far different cultural priorities than the average adventure-seeking humans. It's not that orcs who retain their own upbringing and social structure don't (sometimes) get the urge to go out and plunder an ancient ruin...but the game is not about those individuals. It's about the humans (and human-accepted) who cooperate, hang out in (human) towns/cities, and look to increase their wealth, prestige, and standing (amongst human-types). 

Nothing halfway
about this guy....

The orc peoples...of which there are many tribes and traditions...are just a little too hostile to the encroaching humans to mix easily into an adventuring party. Those that do can ALL be considered "half-orc," or rather "half-human," based on their different perspective and outlet. Not all of them will hate and resent humans, though most will have mixed feelings about them. 

Not sure why this particular approach to humanoids feels better than human-on-human violence that was so off-putting when I considered setting my game in historic South America. It's not because the actions of American settlers in the west was any less egregious than what happened in (what is now called) Latin America...just research a bit about the Yakima War for a taste of that action. But for some reason, it doesn't feel so problematic to me. Perhaps, I just have more of a handle on the local history and politics, that I feel I can steer the narrative better. Perhaps using "fantasy races" I feel like there's the opportunity to resolve things in a different (maybe better) way. Perhaps I've just grown and matured the last couple years and feel capable of dealing with the harsh reality of colonialism and racial relations.

Or maybe it's just that my children (who are my players) have some understanding of real world history and won't just be going "Cowboys and Indians" on the poor old orcs.

I don't know, but I'm digging on the whole concept. It opens some other issues, of course (like, what exactly is up with Lavinia and her half-orc sons in UK2: The Sentinel...are they adopted? Is she some sort of horrible ex-teacher from an Orc Boarding School?). But the more I reflect on it, the more I find the subject matter something I want to engage with. I hope Diego's new PC can stay alive for a while...I'll be interested to see where his adventures take him.

Imagination & Art

"[the rules] provide the framework around which you build a game of simplicity or tremendous complexity -- your time and imagination are about the only limiting factors, and the fact that you have purchased these rules tends to indicate that there is no lack of imagination..."

Thus wrote Gary Gygax in the first paragraph of his introduction to Men & Magic (OD&D, volume 1), and every Dungeons & Dragons rule set since have included some similar words regarding the importance of imagination to the playing of the game.

Just what is imagination? The dictionary definition ranges from "the formation of a mental image or concept of that which is not real or present" (AHD) to "the act or power of forming a mental image of something not present to the senses or never before wholly perceived in reality" (MWD) to simply "the ability to create pictures in your mind; the part of the mind that does that" (OED). Conceptualizing ideas...especially visual ideas (images, pictures)...would seem to be the main purpose/use of one's imagination, and we can thus infer that it is this ability (to mentally conceptualize images) that is so important to the D&D hobby.

It's important to a LOT of things (duh) but it is of utmost importance to a tabletop game that utilizes no board, and that requires participants to create mental images in their heads of the action occurring with little more than a handful of dice, textual notes, and narrated description to help. Players that fail to possess exceptional imagination will have a damnably hard time playing D&D, especially if the Dungeon Master, too, lacks the faculty to visualize and/or effectively describe their vision. Fortunately, imagination as a mental faculty can be exercised, becoming stronger with training and effort.

What might not be readily apparent, however, is the importance of external stimulus to imagination. Imagination, as a process, involves arranging the relationship of ideas and images to form a mental construct, but these ideas/images/relationships are not generated from nothing, nor is their significance/meaning. Instead these things come from our memories, both long- and short-term, and while memories can be created from our own imagination, their original impetus must necessarily derive from outside ourselves, from something learned.

FOR EXAMPLE: to a person unfamiliar with the term "minotaur," no mental image can be constructed with the simple utterance of the word. However, if I explained that a minotaur has the body of a man and the head of a bull, the person could use imagination to construct an image in their mind...provided they have learned (i.e. have memories) of both "a man" and "the head of a bull." Lacking one or both of these terms, the imagination will fail to produce a concept of a minotaur, unless more elementary descriptions are used.

For your memory.

All of which is (hopefully) really basic stuff to grasp. But fantasy role-playing games are not so basic (not even the basic ones!) and require substantially more mental gymnastics to play effectively...and even more so when one considers not only the need to use the mind for imagination (in play) but also the need to formulate strategies and tactics based on both situations/scenarios presented AND the rule set being used. That's a lot of computing power for the poor brain to handle (and, perhaps, part of the reason that some folks find the playing of D&D to be beyond their abilities).

All of which is preamble to declare the immense importance of artwork to the role-playing game. We've all heard the old saw "a picture is worth a thousand words" but in the sphere of fantasy RPGs, a picture's value may be even more valuable. Those visual illustrations found in the rule books work to imprint memories in the minds of the reader...memories that will be used in the process of imagination to form and arrange concepts and mental images, providing meaning and significance that will become the foundational building blocks needed in a game that often times emulates situations not found in our "normal reality." What is our mental image of an orc or goblin or dragon? How about a lucerne hammer or studded leather armor? From where do we draw our memory of a magic-user? Is it a man in cape pulling a rabbit out of a top hat?

Consider for a moment how important it is for an RPG like Dungeons & Dragons to provide visual images as "seeds" for the imagination; consider what you, dear reader, would be left with for your imagination withOUT the illustrations provided in countless fantasy gaming products. For me, I know that as a child I was exposed to many fantasy images prior to my first encounter with D&D...it was my love of all things fairy tale and fantastical that first drew me to a game involving the same.

[I would guess that the bulk of my gaming is informed by primordial memories of Ray Harryhausen "Sinbad" films, with a huge helping of Rankin-Bass Hobbit on the side]

[younger gamers would probably draw their mental images of fantasy from Jackson's Lord of the Rings films (can you believe those things are 20 years old?!) ...or perhaps Harry Potter.  *sigh*]

Anyway, once you've considered how important artwork is for a fantasy role-playing game, and how integral such artwork is to the formulation of a foundation for imagining the actual (in-game) action that occurs during play, I'd invite you to reflect on just what that artwork illustrates in the instructional, core texts of "the world's most popular role-playing game," and how said artwork differs across editions of the games. And then consider how those differences in artwork might influence differences in play.

I'll be writing about that in my next post.

; )

Killing Gods, Part 1

The other day, in the comments on my Whimsy Addendum, I decried a trend I've seen in a lot of adventure material recently, which is: players encountering (and fighting with) "gods." Part of my annoyance has been with regard to overuse of the scenario (welp, here's another adventure where the main antagonist is a fallen deity...) and part of it has stemmed from the execution: how such encounters are portrayed and used in these adventures. 

And the good Prince of Nothing took umbrage and issued me a challenge, writing:

I think if you could manage to distill the right approach to portraying S&S style deities in DnD, complete with a few examples, you'd be doing the OSR a huge favor.

Wait...what? This is on me?

Set aside from the moment any notion of me doing the OSR "favors" (ridiculous to think they'd take any advice from me, even if I wanted to give it!)...what the hell qualifies me as the authority and resource for this particular subject? I'm just a blogger that runs his mouth...er, keypad...a bit too much with long-winded meanderings. 

On the other hand, I have fought a god or two.

*sigh* Challenge accepted. 

I'd like to first start out with a discussion of the inspiration behind this particular idea, this claim that it is O So Very Sword & Sorcery for grungy, pulp heroes to be going toe-to-toe with gods and godlings. So let's crack out our fantasy literature and take a look. Never mind that these are stories, not games...we understand that these stories are the impetus and foundational pieces for Dungeons & Dragons play. And it's always useful to have a firm handle on one's source material.

First up, everyone's favorite barbarian: Conan. One gets the impression that the gods of Howard's Hyborian age are fairly mortal (much like the Norse gods)...if Conan stuck Crom with 3' of  good, Hyrkanian steel, he'd probably die. However, we never encounter Crom in Howard's stories, perhaps because Crom is an actual deity. Conan kills some godlike frost giants, an ancient "god in a bowl" (appears to be a naga, much like the one in module N1), and an alien time-traveller that resembles a small elephant. These aren't gods: they're monsters. In the bluntest of D&D terms, they are meant to be slain and looted. 

Elric gets prepared to
throw down with the
god of lizards.

Next up, we'll look at Moorcock's albino sorcerer, Elric. He fights all sorts of gods. The "Burning God." Balo the Jester of Chaos. In the end, he is responsible for the death of ALL the chaos lords (gods) including his own patron, Arioch. Except that, actually, he's not doing the killing. It's his Most-Powerful-Artifact-Weapon-In-The-Multiverse (Stormbringer) that is doing the actual soul-sucking, not Elric. In the final battle he does a one-shot spell that summons a multitude of Stormbringers (Stormbringer has siblings), and they fly around killing all the gods. Stormbringer, as an artifact, was forged to slay gods (and to "keep in check" higher powers). It's a plot point of the books. Do your D&D characters carry such an artifact weapon? 

Okay, Fafhrd and Gray Mouser. Haven't read as much of them as I'd have liked, but I can't remember them KILLING any gods. Running afoul of them, getting mixed up with them, fleeing their wrath or being cursed by them...sure, all that. But mortal combat (i.e. the hit point draining kind)? No, I don't think so.

Karl Wagner's Kane...well, I've only had the chance to read Bloodstone, and it's been a while. If memory serves, Kane "kills" a super computer masquerading as a deity. Machines break...they are mundane/mortal, not supernatural. Maybe. I get a little depressed thinking about Wagner; he died so young (age 48, alcoholism). 

I don't remember any hero versus god action in Clark Ashton Smith, but I probably haven't read enough of him. I have C.L. Moore's Jirel of Joiry ordered from Amazon, so apologies if she kills a bunch of godlings and I failed to mention it...haven't yet had the chance to read her stories.

H.P. Lovecraft isn't really an S&S writer, but there's no denying his writing's had an impact on D&D and many OSR offerings. Lots of extreme, alien gods walking amongst men in HPL's stuff. But people don't fight them. They get killed and eaten by them, or possessed, or driven insane. It's not really mano-a-mano. Well, except for a certain Norwegian sailor, who's ship-to-kaiju combat was absolutely NOT stolen by Disney for the climactic battle in The Little Mermaid against the giant octopoid entity. Nope, no way...that scene is straight out of Hans Christian Andersen. Regardless, it's one exception to a multitude of non-combats.

How about non-S&S literature...say, Tolkien's Sauron and all his knockoffs (Donaldson's "Lord Foul," whatever the hell Terry Brooks and Robert Jordan use, etc.). They're "gods" right? And the good guys fight and defeat them?

Well, no. At least in Lord of the Rings, Sauron is never confronted directly, and he's not killed so much as "dispersed" by the Ring's destruction. But perhaps he could have been, when he was mortal. Morgoth was wounded by Feanor with a mortal weapon, after all (elf weapons in Tolkien aren't, strictly speaking, "magical" but, rather, gear of exceptional craft). If he could wound Satan with nothing more than courage and a well-made blade what could the elf lord have done with a typical D&D magic weapon...something invested with supernatural power by a wizard?

Pullman's His Dark Materials (in which a couple kids kill old man God) hardly bears mentioning; not really the same genre. Neither is Piers Anthony's "Immortal Incarnate" series. Dragonlance I'll discuss when I talk about god-fighting in gaming proper. Probably I'm leaving out some (or a lot) of stuff, but I just don't read much fantasy anymore. And, anyway, one would think that "Awesome Confrontations Between Man and Godlike Being" would kind of stand out in Ye Old Memory. I used to read a lot of fantasy, and there ain't much popping up there.

SO...from whence this desire (in D&D) to fight/kill gods?

Just what are these "gods" in fantasy literature? I mean there's GOD, of course (omnipotent, omniscient, unknowable, and unavailable...more a force/influence than a being). Then there are 'the gods,' like the Greek/Norse pantheons (or Babylonian...currently reading Ship of Ishtar)...entities that are uber-powerful, live in a different realm, but have feelings/needs/thoughts that are recognizable by humans. There are supernatural entities from other dimensions/planets (Cthulhu, strange "intelligences," etc.). And then there are mortal beings of immense power that are worshipped as gods, but don't necessarily grant any special favors or divine influence...they simply inspire awe/reverence in lesser mortals (though the same could be said...on a grander scale...of ALL the various "god types" listed).

Different fantasy writers have tackled divinities in different ways (duh, JB) but, perhaps surprisingly, I feel a lot of authors take the approach of their being but one GOD (in the monotheist sense), perhaps with various demons and pretenders, but those certainly aren't necessary (Poul Anderson's Three Hearts, Three Lions is S&S and doesn't require any such entities). Certainly Tolkien is all Christian analogue with fallen angels and whatnot, but Howard's, too, stuff has a mostly Christian (i.e. monotheistic) vibe to it. Even his Conan stuff...while I joked before that Crom was probably mortal enough for Conan to slay, the fact is Crom never actually appears (and neither does Set or Mitra, etc.), nor do those gods grant any sort of "divine powers" to their devotees. Either they are false gods (as would be the typical monotheistic point of view) and their priests simply sorcerers, magicians, and charlatans OR they are just names/aspects of the One True God who (generally) stays out of mortal affairs, allowing folks to exercise free will.

And it makes sense that these writers would take this tack: American pulp writers of the early 20th century were, of course, individuals steeped in Western (generally monotheistic) cultures. They're just writing a fantastical version of the world they grew up in, some with reverence though plenty without.

[writers that leave out questions of divinity from their fantasy work at all...like Vance and Zelazny...I chalk up in the same monotheistic category...the lack of a demiurge points to/emphasizes its existence. Regardless, no one is fighting gods in those books]

There ARE outliers, however, and three of them have had an immense impact on the Dungeons & Dragons game: Fritz Leiber, Michael Moorcock, and Howard P. Lovecraft. Leiber's world of Nehwon is filled with gods of the "pantheon" variety; so is Moorcock's Young Kingdoms (although antihero Elric is always searching for a Grand Designer behind it all). HPL, of course, gives us all his crazy-ass Star Children from the far reaches of space. Of these three authors, I'd judge Leiber and Moorcock to have had the greatest impact on the game as far as "cosmology" is concerned. That being said, I think in all three authors' cases a major takeaway from their stories is: the gods are NOT to be futzed around with.

You don't fight them. You're not going to kill them. You certainly don't loot their bodies.

All of which runs quite counter to D&D's credo.

But I'll be talking about that in my follow-up post, which will be specifically focused on god-fighting in D&D.

: )