[Rifts] Some thoughts on the Coalition

Overall, I think the Coalition is a nice set of bad guys, in the sense that they've got a distinctive look, a lot of scary toys, and a suitably odious and belligerent outlook, ensuring the PCs will come in conflict with them. I think there are a few things I would do differently with them than what I've seen in published material.

Let's start with something really basic: I'm not fond of the despot of the Coalition being "the Emperor." That sounds like the leader of, well, an Empire, not a Coalition. My view of the Coalition is as a military dictatorship that perhaps seized power from an earlier, more collaborative group that called itself the Coalition. Prosek might call himself Director, General, or even President, but I'm inclined to prefer something like Supreme Leader or Supreme Commander.

Good paint job for a Coalition robot

I like the idea that the Coalition is, at least rhetorically, out to restore America. There should be an aspect of palingenesis to it in line with the fascist regimes that inspired it. It does bug me it doesn't drape itself more in American symbols, but I can retcon the Coalition flag to be the U.S. stripes with the skull and lighting bolts instead of stars, maybe. 

We are told that (at least in Chi-Town) the majority of Coalition citizens are illiterate. I assume that doesn't mean complete illiteracy, because the art in the original book with its signs and graffiti suggest a level of basic literacy is present. I assume that, transplanted to our society, the average citizen would be considered functionally illiterate, though within their own culture they are not so impaired. Chi-Town, like other cyberpunkish settings, is to a degree post-literate. What the Coalition educational restrictions take from them is an understanding of the past and a level of abstract reasoning and means communicate those thoughts.

The brings me around to Coalition media. I think there is probably a lot of it, but not much of it worthwhile. It will be blatant propaganda when it isn't just vapid. The pervasive TV of American Flagg! seems good inspiration here. As always, sex will sell. I figure Coalition news magazines/morning show sort of lite journalism programs, would do their hiring of effervescent hosts accordingly.

The Case for Planetary Romance

Richard Hescox

I feel like planetary romance (sometimes called Sword & Planet, though I think that might be better thought as a subgenre or sub-subgenre) is, I think, a genre well-suited for rpg exploitation, but despite this utility is oddly under-represented. Sure, a search for "sword & planet" or "planetary romance" on drivethru turns up a few pages of entries, but many of those are only sort of "planetary romance informed" (like Dark Sun) or really other genres (like Old Solar system space opera). 

Genre boundaries are admittedly, fuzzy things, so I suppose I should first define what I mean. Planetary romance is a genre about exploration of the biospheres, societies, and cultures of an alien world. Typically, the exploration of the world doesn't just entail the usual activities of naturalists or explorers, but additionally the uncovering of a mystery or mysteries. Planetary romance worlds are more than they appear. The protagonist of these stories is most often an outsider like the reader because that gives the author the greatest freedom into working details about the setting into the narrative. Since a singular world and its exploration is essential to the genre, world-hopping works may share stylistic similarities to planetary romance, but I don't think they belong in the genre--though one could have a planetary romance series where every installment was a different world. Works with a non-outsider protagonist might likewise be excluded*, otherwise some secondary world fantasies would be up for inclusion, though mostly I'd exclude those for their settings being too Earth-like. Lord Valentine's Castle, I'd say, one could call a Planetary Romance and has no outsider protagonist, but it has an amnesiac one, which serves the same purpose.

Sword & Planet, I think, is a subtype of planetary romance, where the planet being visited is (mostly) less technologically advanced (at least in surface ways), and the plots mostly involve action. That action typically resembles swashbuckling fantasy or Sword & Sorcery fiction. The exemplar and progenitor of this type is Burroughs' A Princess of Mars. Swords and sci-fi (like Star Wars or any pulp era space opera stories) have anachronist/inconsistent tech like Sword & Planet but lack the focus on a single world.

Anyway, definitions aside, why do I think it's a good genre for games, perhaps particularly those of an old schoolish bent? Well, the focus on exploration for one thing. Planetary romance easily fits a hexcrawl or pointcrawl model. Planetary romances like Vance's Tschai/Planet of Adventure series or the Alex Raymond years of the Flash Gordon comic strip involve covering a lot of ground and uncovering new things.

Panel from Flash Gordon comic strip by Dan Schkade

Secondly, while actual dungeons are perhaps few (the Cave World of Kira from Flash Gordon not withstanding), ruins to explore are quite common. A number of dead cities, for instance, turn up in Burroughs' John Carter series.

Third, there is an element at least close to picaresque in a lot of planetary romance. While the protagonists aren't typically rogues or anti-heroes, their adventures are episodic and involve navigating or outsmarting corrupt or stultified social systems. Money and food are concerns, depending on the story, and the protagonists often have to get menial sorts of jobs or get imprisoned for petty offenses. Don Lawrence's Storm, for example, is more than once forced into some sort of labor for basically not knowing local customs.

Don Lawrence

So, given what I've said, why isn't Planetary Romance more popular? Mainly, I think it's because there hasn't been a recent example that reached a wide audience. Burroughs' work seems old fashion (as the failure of the recent film perhaps shows) and newer examples (like Scavengers Reign) tend to position themselves more firmly in science fiction than as something that sort of mixes fantasy and sci-fi.

*There are certainly books in planetary romance series that have native protagonist (books in both Burroughs' Mars series and Akers' Kregen series come to mind), but these notably occur after several books with outsider protagonists to get things established, so I think my point still stands.

What it's Like to Travel The Stars

Presumably no one on Earth has yet experienced interplanetary space travel. When the creators of space travel-related media go to describe it or evoke the feeling of it for their audience they tend to analogize it in terms of some idiom of travel their audience is familiar with. The ways in which travelers interact with travel, the stylings of ships and controls, and the attitude of the world toward pilots--all of these things are typically informed more by the specific analogy employed that the speculative mechanics of the travel.

For example, the most pervasive of these is likely space travel as sea travel. This occurs at the level of language where we usually talk of "spaceships" instead of craft or vehicles and crew rankings/positions typically follow naval models. This analogy is evident in Star Trek in its naval organization and the conduct of its space battles, but also in the particular romanticization of both vessels, voyaging, and at times, captaincy. In Star Trek V, Kirk quotes the 1902 poem "Sea-Fever" by Masefield: "All I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer by," and it's not at all out of place with the vibe.

Star Wars engages in the sea travel analogy, too. It and its imitators like Battlestar Galactica have capital ships acting as aircraft carriers. The Millenium Falcon is a tramp freighter with a captain supposedly inspired by Humphrey Bogart's screen persona (and perhaps his famous role as a tramp steamer captain in The African Queen (1951)). His adventures with Chewbacca prior to Star Wars probably look a lot like episodes of the radio series Voyage of the Scarlet Queen just translated from the South Seas to the Rim. Cowboy Bebop really hits you over the head with the tramp sea vessel analogy by having the Bebop land in water and being built from a sea-going vessel.

Star Wars likes to mix things up, though. It also employs the second most common analogy: space travel as air travel. Dogfights between fighters have moves out of World War II and hotshot pilots are almost as important to the narrative as they are in Top Gun. The cockpit controls of the Millennium Falcon, and the fact "she doesn't look like much" but "she's got it where it counts" could easily be the way a cargo pilot in some pulp adventure describes his aging sea plane, as in Tales of the Gold Monkey (or more accurately, the sort of fiction that inspired it) or the cargo planes in the early years of the Steve Canyon comic strip.

The third analogy that comes to mind is trucking. I define this as a focus on space travel as performed by rather unromanitic figures, blue collar-working stiffs, often solitary and with few amenities in their utilitarian-appearing vessels. It is not nearly as common as the other two, but it is specifically evoked in Alien and in Cowboy Bebop in the episode "Heavy Metal Queen." The farhaulers of the Transhuman Space setting also have some of this vibe. 

Are there other analogies? Probably. I think some media gestures toward spacecraft as automobile, often in a sort of plot where automobile itself is just the modern stand-in for the freedom of a "fast horse." Leigh Brackett has several protagonists on the run from the law in a fast, small ship like an outlaw escaping on horseback in a Western or a muscle car in a 70s car movie. Battle Beyond the Stars, the Star Wars-inspired space opera retread of the Magnificent Seven (and thus, Seven Samurai) has several of its "hired guns" traveling in solo spacecraft, and at least one is a cowboy. These are less convincing, though, because spacecraft tend to only analogize to cars or horses in media in limited ways. They always occur in "mixed metaphors."

And there are a lot of those of course, with Star Wars being the obvious example, as I said. Still, I find it interesting just how clear these analogies often are.

Further Thoughts on Magic

Thinking about my Monday post further (and reading more examples of magic in McKillip's Heir of Sea and Fire), I feel like the part that perhaps the most central element to number of these magic systems I like is that they demonstrate Frazer's concept of sympathetic magic.

Raderle can create a powerful illusion of large lake, by digging a fist-sized hole and pouring water into it. Arthur in The Revolutions can snap a chair leg by snapping the stem of a wine glass. These are both examples of similarity, or like producing like.

The other common employed aspect of sympathetic magic is contagion. It shows up quite a bit in The Revolutions, but I don't think I quoted an example. It's where an item that was once physically connected to someone or something else still has a magical connection to that thing. This is being able to cast a spell on someone because you have a lock of their hair or the like.

Similarity shows up some in D&D spell material components, but I think more of these are sort of jokey correspondences instead.  These things are fine and could even be flavorful for bigger spells or more complicated rituals, I think more spells that used a perhaps caster-specific but reasonable application of similarity and contagion. 

The Patchwork Kingdom Crawl

 As has been pointed out before, the kind of frontier envisioned by old D&D owes more to Westerns than it does to the Western European Middle Ages or most of the fantasy works in the Appendix N. The modern idea of the "points of light" setting is perhaps closer to these things but still tends to miss the mark for many sources of the game's inspiration.

There's another option that shows up often, in disparate places from Le Morte d'Arthur to Star Trek, and many works in between. We have heroes wandering from one place to another, perhaps with a goal, perhaps not. These places are more or less civilized jurisdictions, but they have unusual customs (from the perspective of the protagonists) or eccentric or antagonist authorities. While one of the examples I mentioned above describes voyages covering a significant amount of territory (interplanetary!), some fairy tale-ish or picaresque stories (like Oz novels) do the same thing over a much smaller area: A patchwork of fiefdoms or petty kingdoms. The sort of campaign that could easily be made from a map of Holy Roman Empire:

This differs from the points of light setting in that there really isn't a distinction between wilderness for adventure and civilization for safety. In fact, the challenges of the wilderness in such stories may be much more limited than the challenges of civilization. The various eccentric monarchs and humorously dangerous social situations Manuel finds himself in in Figures of Earth are good examples, as are the strange and isolated cities John Carter visits in his wanderings across Barsoom.

The advantages of this sort of setting to me would be that it's very easy to work in all sorts of adventures from social conflict and faction stuff to traditional dungeons and overland travel.

Religion in Middle-earth

Art by Falmarin de Carme

I came across this site a couple of weeks ago that compiles additional background material generated for a Finnish Middle-earth based role-playing campaign. What I found most interesting is its extrapolation and elaboration of the religions for Middle-earth. 

This is a perceived area weakness pointed out in Tolkien's work in the past. In Imaginary Worlds, Carter notes critically that Tolkien's world "has no religion in it." In Dragon #127, Rolston in his review of Lords of Middle-earth for MERP gets to the gamer brass tacks of it:

According to Lords of Middle-earth, Middle-earth has a "seemingly inexhaustible collection of deities, pantheons, practices, and religions." However, all of them are wrong. Eru is the only god, and the Valar and the Maiar are simply his servants. Enlightened folk (Elves and Dunedain) practice a nonritualistic monotheism with no formal clergy - pretty boring stuff by FRP standards. 

A lot of epic fantasy has followed Tolkien's areligious example (Jordan's Wheel of Time series, for one) and as modern society becomes ever more secular, it probably is less and less seen as a deficit. Still, if you think of religion is a fascinating aspect of the real world well worth including in imagined worlds (where you at, Gloranthaphiles?) it's cool to see the work Sampsa Rydman has done here. The religions described build on the details provided in Tolkien's extensive writings and (so far as I am familiar with the lore) the new things added seem consistent.

For instance, the orthodox worship of Númenor is as described in terms of its simple ritual and insistence that only the king prays to Eru. The description of a Trinity of Eru, Word, and Flame Imperishable seems a credible extrapolation from details given. Likewise, the sort of Satanic faith of the Black Númenoreans is given a creed that is consistent with what me know about the downfall of their land but with reasonable details as to what Sauron might have convinced them to get them on his side. "Doing evil" (from the point of view of the doer) has historically not really been a common motivator for human religions, so it makes more sense that those that Sauron seduced to his cause were given some other line: "The Valar have wronged both you and the true god, and the true god will redress that wrong if you help him out."

Art by Angus MacBride

Of course, an issue with religion in Middle-earth is canonically we know what's true and what isn't. For a game campaign I think it might be more fun, as Rolston implies, if that weren't true. Going as far as Jacqueline Carey's The Sundering duology and switching the moral polarity of the two sides doesn't really help, but borrowing her idea that the Creator is out of the picture and the lesser gods have differing understandings or interpretations of how to carry out their mission leads to a more ambiguous situation with more possibilities for equally valid appearing religions. In other words, something like the sort of cosmologies or interpretations offered in fantasy works that utilize Judeo-Christian mythology as their backdrop. Really just making the complete truth unknowable to beings within the world (even immortal ones like the elves) would serve the same purpose, though I think most people familiar with Middle-earth would tend to make assumptions that would make this minimal change approach Less effective.

I don't think a Middle-earth game (or a game in any setting) has to have religion (unless you got clerics, in which case, you sort of already do), any more than you are required to explore any other element of culture, but if you're planning to run a long campaign I think it's an interesting facet to add.

Arduin Got It

I don't know much of anything about Dave Hargrave or his inspirations for Arduin but the art and content suggest Hargrave's inspirations (or at least his artists inspirations) were much closer to mine and my friends' early influences than the likes of Gygax, Arneson, or Barker. 

I had read a few works off Appendix N in the first couple of years I played (some Howard, some Lieber. Tolkien) but it would probably be well into the 90s before fantasy comic books, art by Frazetta, Vallejo, and Whelan, etc., and animation weren't bigger influences that literary fantasy.

The things I see in Greyhawk now that I think were informed by Gygax's interest in historical wargaming would have been over my head when I first encountered it, and were not something I would have sought to add to a setting. Barker's world has a bit of Sword & Planet vibe but would have felt too bound by propriety and protocol. Greenwood's Realms seem geared toward trilogy novel so of play, but Tolkien's was the only trilogy I was interested in at that point. Hargrave, on the other hand, had insect people like Bug from Micronauts and Amazon warriors of the sort that were all over comics and seem de rigueur for fantasy worlds.

I can't say that (beyond the art) I've ever been particularly interested in Arduin. I came to it too late. Had I discovered it around age 12-13, it might have been a different story.

Weird Revisited: Magical Revolutions

The original version of this post appeared in December of 2010. I've updated it with some newer thoughts...

We’re all familiar with the advance of technology and the shifting--sometimes radically--of scientific ideas. The ether theory gave way to special relativity; the crossbow gave way to the gun. So why is it we seldom see any advancements in the technology of magic, or magical paradigm shifts, in rpg settings?

Not that magic isn’t shown as changing over time, but it's almost always a fall from a more advanced state, even a Golden Age, to its current one. Mostly, though, this seems to just a change from more magic to less. Sure, this gives a convenient rationale for ancient magical ruins and magical items laying around, but there are other explanations for that stuff, surely.

Why can’t magic missiles be more powerful today than 100 years ago? Maybe old spells have completely fallen by the wayside due to improve defenses (maybe, though, those defenses have been lost too?). Or how about old magical theories giving way to the radical new theories of a Magus Einstein? Different magical schools/styles need not be equally valid views that just add “color”, one could be more true than the other. What would that even mean: more powerful spells? shorter casting times? higher levels attainable? bragging rights in the outer planes?

It turns out the manga (and anime) Frieren: Beyond Journey's End actually does some of this. A powerful demon early on is easily defeated because his formerly unbeatable attack has now become so well understood over the time he was sealed away that even relatively inexperienced mages know how to defend against it. It seems that in general, combat magic has gotten better over Frieren's (extended) lifetime, but a number of minor spells or things for noncombat applications have been forgotten.

 

Still though, that's the only example I think I've come across in the years since I wrote this post initially. I think there's a lot that could be done with the idea in gaming, particularly in a system like modern D&D with so many varieties of magic. 

Two Lawful Neutral Religions

 My "Hidden Religions of D&D" posts got me thinking about a new way to view alignment in D&D, and that is not as personal ethics or even (necessarily) cosmic forces, but rather as placeholders for religions within a campaign setting. Old D&D gives us some detail on the generic "Church of Law" so it would be interesting to expand that idea to other alignments--however many one wants to use. 

A Lawful Neutral church would be one that holds to the supremacy of cosmic order. They would focus on the duties of individuals and society to uphold and harmonize with that cosmic order. Here are Lawful Neutral faiths that would represent these ideas in different ways.

Universal Harmony

This faith believes there is an Eternal Order that has always existed on some idealized plane, but through the process of Law that encompasses both the working of the cosmos and the virtuous behavior of the beings with that cosmos, must be made manifest. The obligations of the humanity in this work are laid out in the religion's holy text, the Formicarium.

The common person is urged to be content with their roll in life and work to make society as whole more orderly and harmonious. The contemplation of greater mysteries is left to ascetics who sometimes provide guidance on important issues to the communities they serve. Those involved in the legal system and the formulation of laws are likewise members of the clergy as law flows from and is a facet of perfect cosmic Order.

The Formicarium mandates that the ruler of a state should be a dispassionate vessel for law. Their job is to insure those under them proceed with honest and transparency, and punishment for transgressing the law is swift and impartial.

Upon death, adherents look forward to an ultimate oneness with the universal process, so that they neither suffer nor desire.

Zurthonism

Zurthon is viewed as the first principal, the transcendent god of time, space, and fate. Zurthon is sometimes called a "machine god"--a being without passion or compassion, and above concepts of good and evil. The faithful seek to divine the path Zurthon has predetermined for them from the beginning of the universe by the study of the Heavens. Zurthonist astrologer-priests plot a child's horoscope from birth. The faithful do not seek to avoid or change ill-fate but rather use this for knowledge to allow them to prepare for the future, the better to display their submission to Zurthon's divine plan. 

There are heretical sects of Zurthonism that view predetermination as an excuse for licentiousness or abandon (and thus become a cult of Chaotic Neutral), but orthodox belief promotes a stoicism in all things.

Ergodic RPG Setting Presentations

Going back to the Greyhawk Folio has made me realize how it differs from modern setting material and perhaps why I bounced off of it when I first encountered. I believe it falls into a category of published setting I would call "ergodic settings." Ergodic settings are analogous to ergodic literature, that is that are settings whose form of presentation requires nontrivial effort on the part of the reader to make sense or understand the setting.

I'll concede that "understanding" in this context can be kind of fuzzy. Different perspective DMs likely have different expectations and desires of a setting. I'm sure there are a lot of people that loved Greyhawk from the moment they encountered the Folio or the Wilderlands of High Fantasy, to name another setting I find ergodic. But I don't think that changes the quality of ergodicity, it's more about how much work you're willing to do (or have already done) to meet the setting where it is.

So what do I mean by ergodic? Well, Greyhawk in its initial present is brief, which is often touted as a virtue, but in that brevity its ability to develop an easy sense of place is impaired. It also consistently refuses to take the modern route of focusing on "juicy" details or hooks. It's not that there aren't things going on in the Flanaess, but as far as we know from the Folio, they aren't really things for low-level treasure seekers. When seeds of adventure are there, they tend to be more Game of Thrones clash of armies and intrigues. There's also perhaps a focus on wargame realism over fantasy. A careful read with an eye toward history can suggest Gygax's models and sources, but he doesn't make it easy, like say, Robert E. Howard or the first introduction to the Known World in Isle of Dread (which just tells you the inspiration, so you don't even get to feel smart!)

Well, I don't know the primary export, but these places seem cool!

 Wilderlands is similarly fairly opaque in that department, but at least you can read hexes with a crashed spacecraft, mermaids or giants. And lots of them. The Folio is dressing your set with backdrops and a few props, but with scant actual prompts for adventure and very little enticing fantasy spectacle. This is just the facts; you do most of the fantasy.

But modern settings require work because they are often too completist and too wordy! Getting through all that cruft requires work! Sure, but it's a different sort of work. It's the work of separating wheat from chaff, perhaps, or just the work of reading homework, it isn't the conceptual work of "what does this mean and what do I do with it?" The Folio approach makes it harder to distill "the good bits" for your own thing, if that's what you're after.

This Strange Stars OSR has a good approach. Wonder who wrote this?

Now, this can be a virtue for the seasoned DM. It's easier to make it your own, perhaps, or even run it differently with the parameters that exist in different campaigns. And if all you need is the barest background to sink your dungeons into, it doesn't matter. But looking at the more recent DMs Guild Greyhawk presentations, there's more of an effort to put player-engaging material in, even as they hew fairly traditionalist.

The Hidden Religions of D&D: The Church of Law

Thinking about rationalization of the implied setting of D&D, not in the way of industrial magic or anything like that (though I've done that before) but in the direction of how the implied setting of D&D might point toward its religions or belief systems. Sure, there's the explicit fantasy polytheism, but as others have pointed out, it's undermined by the (at least up through AD&D) presentation of the cleric class as vaguely sort of Medieval Christian and by the fact that historical polytheism didn't work like D&D thinks it does. As Delta puts it:

...D&D claims to have a polytheistic religion, but you've got both the politics and the critical Cleric class set up as in the medieval Christian world, and nowhere else.

Is there a more interesting and perhaps more realistic way weave together the elements presented? I think so.

Note that Clerics of 7th level and greater are either "Law" or "Chaos", and there is a sharp distinction between them.
- Gygax & Arneson, Men & Magic

OD&D mentions Law and Chaos with regard to a cleric's orientation. To me, this suggests a system of belief with a dualist cosmology. (Perhaps this is the actual state of the cosmos, but it doesn't have to be!) This is a moral dualism, as the two opposing forces or principles are in conflict. This could be interpreted (and perhaps is by some sects or particular faiths) as ditheistic with two gods or groups of gods in opposition, but I also think the broader, philosophical tradition could embrace transtheism, where the existence of Law and Chaos is a greater and more important truth than the existence or nonexistence of god-like beings/powers. 

The church of law is syncretic, incorporating deities as it grows as agents, exemplars, or aspects of Law. No doubt there would be historic disagreement (possibly even conflict) over just how much deference and attention these powers are rightly due.

Clerics/priests, given the hierarchical structure presented in OD&D, are important in public rituals and ceremonies of the belief system but are also likely interpreters and scholarly experts on Law. Each of these Patriarchs (and Matriarchs, probably, though OD&D doesn't mention them!) is independent and self-governing but in fellowship with the others (generally). Initially a Patriarch would be a charismatic leader who attracts followers, but presumably the church they founded would have a mechanism of choosing a successor. 

Patriarchs are the final arbiters of the commandments of Law within their area, but the Patriarchs of the various churches might vote to decide points between them, or perhaps different interpretations would reign in different jurisdictions. Another aspect of the high clerical function extremely relevant to adventuring is calling for and supporting crusades/jihad against Chaos. 

Speaking of Chaos, it does seem a bit odd it is presented with a hierarchical clerical structure identical to Law's. One possibility is the "anti-clerics" are sort of Satanists and just performatively mock the church of Law, but another possibility is that "Chaos" only speaks to its ultimate goals or cosmological beliefs, not to its organizing principles. It's also possible (even likely) that the Church of Law applies the name Chaos to a diverse group of belief systems that don't agree with it and often don't agree with each other. 

A More Realistic Middle Earth

Listening to the History of the Germans podcast in episodes about the struggle for power between the Papacy and the Hofenstaufen Holy Roman Emperors, when reading a bit of a MERP supplement started me thinking about righting a post about a grittier, more realistic Middle Earth. Then I discovered I already sort of had written a post like that, back in 2020...

If we take The Silmarillion as Elvish mythology (which it is) promoting a slanted point of view, then most of the doings in Middle Earth are a proxy conflict between two super-powers: Sauron and his minions and the Valar and the Elves. We needn't assume either side is particularly good, In fact, we know the Valar unleashed a devastating weapon of mass destruction against their former allies in Numenor just for getting too cozy with Sauron.

In the modern era, Sauron's forces have been engaged in a protracted occupation of  Eriador. Through the action of the Mordor proxy Angmar, the Western kingdoms of Man were shattered, much of the population fled south, but fanatical bands, the Rangers, structured around the heir to throne of Arnor and Gondor, and supported by the Elves, continued to fight an insurgency against Mordor's Orcish forces and her allies.

Sauron has been a distant and not terribly effective leader for some time. He has been unable to consolidate Angmar's victory over Arnor (a victory that saw Angmar destroyed in the process) and unable to wipe out the remaining Elvish enclaves and human insurgents.

You get the idea. Shorn of much of its epic fantasy trappings, Middle Earth becomes a grittier place, where Men, Orcs, and local Elves, are all dealing with the aftermath of a terrible war wrought by super-powers that they perhaps only have the smallest of stakes in but yet are forced to take most of the risk.

Seems like an interesting place to adventure. It's certainly place where you can get a more interesting mix of adventurers and adventures, perhaps.

Weird Revisited: Middle-Earth in Blacklight

I've been thinking about this sort of material again, recently. The original version of this post appeared in 2021...

It's well known that hippies were into Tolkien's work. Some of its themes appealed to them, certainly, but like with Lee and Ditko's Dr. Strange comics, there was also the idea that the works might somehow be drug-influenced. The author, it was assumed, might be taking the same trip as them. This was, of course, a false belief, but it was one that existed.

I this appreciation of Tolkien filtered through 60s countercultural and mixed with the prevalent cultural representations of fairytale fantasy led to a subgenre or aesthetic movement within fantasy, most prevalent in the late 70s and early 80s, before D&D derived fantasy came to ascendancy. While this subgenre likely finds expression in literature and even music to a degree, I think it is most recognizable and definable in visual media. It's evident in works like Bakshi's film Wizards and the Marvel comic Weirdworld (both in 1977), and in the Wizard World sequences (starting in 1979) of Mike Grell's Warlord. Elfquest (1978) shows the influence to a degree. Bodē's Cheech Wizard (1966) and Wally Wood's Wizard King (introduced 1968 but significantly presented in 1978) are either the oldest examples or its direct progenitors.

Essentially, the subgenre eschews the serious world-building of LotR for a more drug-influenced riff on The Hobbit, often with greater use of anachronism, camp, and sexiness, and often with a degree of psychedelia. Beyond the Tolkien influence, these works tend to share a number of common features:  a "traditional" visualization of elves and dwarfs as "little people," arising in folklore and classic illustration, but coming more directly from Disney animation and the fairytale comics of Walt Kelly; the influence of Denslow's Oz illustrations or the design aesthetic of The Wizard of Oz (1939); absurdism and humor borrowed from underground comics and Warner Brothers cartoons; unreal landscapes and visually alien settings informed by Sword & Sorcery and science fiction comics rather than historical or mythic sources of Tolkien.

Given they were contemporaries, D&D shows some in influence from these sources, primarily in its early art and occasionally humorous tone. But as a game that arose from wargaming there was always a thread of verisimilitude or equipment fixation that runs counter to this freewheeling psychedelic adventure vibe. Also, the violent, heroic narratives tended to have less room for the silly or less competent characters of psychedelic fantasy works.

The Other "Good Lore"

There has been some discussion in various places over the last couple of weeks regarding "lore," which isn't a great term, maybe, but one we all understand to mean background, mostly nonmechanical elements of a setting in all their myriad forms. A lot of time is spent separating good lore from bad. Ben Laurence wrote this great post last week. I wrestled with the issue in regard to history, one of the most vexing parts of lore, here.

Anyway, I think what Ben says about "good" lore and its creation and use is smart, but there seems to me a missing category, which was the impetus for this post. One type of actionable lore that Ben neglects to mention is the sort of detail that aids the GM in conveying the world to the players at the table. This isn't "actionable intelligence" for the players particularly, but rather things that help set the scene and convey the subtle textures that might differentiate one world from another. Things that should appear in (or at least inform) the GM's description of the world, not facts to be memorized in anyway.

A good way to do this is sensory-impressionistic descriptions. Jack Shear of Tales of the Grotesque and Dungeonesque presented a brief style of locale description that included as one of it's headings "A Taste, A Sound, an Image." I've borrowed this presentation myself, as has Miranda Elkins of In Places Deep. These sorts of details help set the mood both for the players and for the GM who must great more details and could use the imaginative springboard.

Note that these can be diegetic and nondiegetic, though going nondiegetic runs the risk of the reader not getting the "vibe" because they don't know the work referenced or took something else from it.

It might be fair to say, that's not really "lore," and I guess in the strictest since that's true, but I've got more! Ben mentions "banal facts about cuisine" as irrelevant lore, and I agree, but only in regard to the "banal" part. One of the things I did with my recent Gnydrion game was go out of my way to give a description of the meal being offered when the character's had a chance to eat. This isn't something I usually do, but Gnydrion is a very Vancian setting, so I wanted to lean into that. The players weren't expected to remember these meals; it was just a bit color, but I think it helped convey the feel of the setting. The players seemed to enjoy it in that spirit. All I had to do was make a list of like 10 dishes and I wasn't concerned if what I said in play was exactly what I wrote down.

I think these sorts of details like this can at least suggest actions. Knowing that bronze can be mined from the buried bones of dead Storm Gods could be something players do something with in Glorantha, but at the very least it sets Glorantha apart from say, the Forgotten Realms. 

At the end of the day, "good" lore is going to make your setting more memorable and interesting. This may be because the players can use that knowledge strategically, but it may also because it helps the world come alive for them.

An Adventure Path like a Dungeon

B1-9 flowchart

Recently I was reading the rpg Flash Gordon and the Warriors of Mongo (1977). The usual take on this game is that it is less an rpg and more a boardgame. That's likely the way it will strike most people on first blush, but I think Christian Lindke makes a reasonable case that it is a roleplaying game of its era (and underwritten even for that) with a definite campaign path, almost like some story games of today.

I don't see any reason why a game couldn't have a definite campaign arc. I think that would work with a lot of licensed properties, and I think the "adventure path" style of modern published adventures is a way to do just that. Unfortunately, these sorts of adventures suffer conceptually, I think, from a couple of flaws. One is the desire to have the campaign arc come as a surprise to players or at least to appear to arise naturalistically from the earlier campaign events. This requires the GM to be deceptive. Two, if the players weren't getting railroaded to get them into the adventure, they certainly are once it starts because the path through the adventure tends to be fairly linear.

I think it can be done better. This is an idea akin to my previous one about running an adventure point-crawl--in fact, it's really just a slightly different approach to the same basic idea. 

Both involve a goal to achieve, a geography to cover in doing so, and certain events or scenes that might occur. These locations and their events/scenes form the "rooms" in a conceptual "dungeon," or more accurately the points in a conceptual pointcrawl. An adventure of this sort would have a conceptual/narrative map and a physical geography map, not unlike the actual Mongo mmap compared to the "Schematic Map" of Flash Gordon and the Warriors of Mongo:

How would this differ from a standard, old adventure path? Well, in at least a couple of ways. As much is possible, nothing is supposed to happen. Certain events would make completing the task of the campaign easier, but only rarely would there be no other way to get it done.

Like in a pointcrawl, players are permit to just follow the physical geography. Nothing forces them to stay on the path, but the locations on the path have special features analogous to (or perhaps literally, sometimes) secret doors, teleportation disks or what have you that allow quicker, easier travel between "points." "Solving" a "point" might unlock other advantages like allies or items that make completing the goal of the campaign easier. Just like finding certain items or meeting certain NPCs in a dungeon.

This break from linearity would mean the points would have to have less of a causal relationship than the events of adventure paths typically do. It would work best, I think, for certain sorts of campaign arcs. A rebellion (like Star Wars or Flash Gordon) would be one, but something like Pirates of Dark Water with episodic exploration in search of plot coupons would work well, too. Anything more like a broadcast era episodic TV series with a throughline and less like a feature film.

Superhero Teams in RPGs

As a follow-up to my post on pulp teams, I thought I would address the perhaps more common issue of teams in supers rpgs. As with superhero character concepts, I admit to some dissatisfaction at times with the sort of teams that get built by players in supers games. There's nothing wrong with the superhero formulation of Reints' old high concept pitch of D&D about Conan and Gandalf fighting Dracula, but just as most everybody's (or at least a lot of people's) D&D isn't so eclectic, I don't see any reason why every supers campaign needs to permit playing Golden Age Sandman (Vertigo version) and Witchblade versus the Beyonder. 

Having a team that really feels like it fits goes beyond just identifying what supers subgenre or style (Four Color, Golden Age mystery men, realistic, gritty, etc.) is going to the subject of play, though I think that's probably the first step. Before we considering other things, I want to talk about superhero teams as they occur in comics. I think there are three broad categories:

• The Band: A small group (3-6, maybe) of disparate members thrown together for some reason. Their dynamics are more based on tropes around specific personalities/story roles rather than anything else (see the tvtropes articles like Four Temperament Ensemble, Four Philosophy Ensemble, and Five Man Band, among others), though they sometimes have a theme (elements being common). Examples: The Fantastic Four, The Challengers of the Unknown, the original Teen Titans, the original X-Men.
• The Supergroup: Solo characters who come together as a team. Neither their powers or their personalities tend to be coordinated, but they bring individual histories and backstories with them. One or more Supergroup tends to be a big deal in most comic universes, but not all of them. The building up to the formation of one might be short campaign itself.  Examples: the Avengers, The Justice League, the Mighty Crusaders.
• The Ensemble: Purpose-built groups of new or mostly new characters. They are typically attempts to create something of a Supergroup (but without the characters being previously established) or a band (but with so many members they can't all get a distinct, stock personality). They tend to have power portfolios that are easily understandable in terms of combat/team roles (the Brick, the Blaster, etc.) and often sport really on the nose codenames. Examples: The Authority, Youngblood, the new X-Men, the Outsiders (original team), Squadron Supreme.

Assembling Your Avengers (or what have you)

Creating a Band or Ensemble is pretty easy, it just requires coordinating character creation. Once the general subgenre, style, and tone is agreed on, players can discuss concepts to either get personalities or powers/roles divvied up.

It might seem as if a rpg superhero team of newly minted characters could only ever be a Band or an Ensemble. That's true in the literal sense, but I think things can be done to sort of replicate the feel of a Supergroup, if that's what you want to do. It requires coming up with more about the characters than just their name and powers, however. 

Emergent worldbuilding is popular in some circles, and I think a supers campaign can certainly be done that way, but I think it's bound to be less satisfying if a Supergroup is what you're after. Most people, even very creative people, just don't always come up with their best stuff at the spur of the moment. Best is certainly not always required--in fact in a supers game meant to replicate the comics, you probably don't always want your best. But people also don't want to be saddled with ill-considered ideas as important character concepts.

I suggest people take a little time and come up with at least the stuff that would have happened in the first issue (or maybe, in these days of decompression, the first arc) of their character's comic: besides the basics on the character sheet, that would include supporting cast, home base, and at least one antagonist. I actually favor going a little farther and sketching the contents of an original DC Who's Who's/ Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe (not the Deluxe addition, I don't think. Too detailed!) style entry for the character. That still leaves a lot to discover (or backfill in play), but it allows a foundation to credibly kayfabe a character with a history.

The Elements of Generic D&D

Over the years since its creation, the standard mode of D&D has become a subgenre of fantasy unto itself, codified now in the other rpgs that followed on its coattails and the other media they've inspired. GURPS terms it "Dungeon Fantasy," though I don't think it required dungeons--though obviously they play a big part.

The essential element as I see it are:

• The primary characters are a loose group of companions.
• Well-defined character roles/types and capabilities, very often recognized within the fictional world.
• Characters engaged in quests or missions in dangerous locales, mostly commonly underground. 

Other elements that are common are:

• A setting with pre-modern technology.
• Adventurers as a recognized role in society.
• A large variety of monsters, categorized and taxonomized. 
• Hierarchies of capability within character types.
• The development of character abilities and capabilities over time through dangerous trials. Sometimes there are in-setting codified tiers or levels.

There are, of course, others but these are things I feel like are less common in fantasy works that aren't in the subgenre than those that are. There may even be some work that if you play loose enough with definitions that would fit all of the above that we wouldn't consider "D&D fantasy," but genre boundaries have never been impermeable and precise things.

Got to Catch Them All

Inspired by Vance mostly, people have considered spells as living entities. It was discussed in the Gplus days, and it shows up in Eric Diaz's Dark Fantasy Magic. Back in 2011, before I had really read a whole lot of Vance, the Vancian magic of D&D and the film Pontypool got me imagining spells as a neurolinguistic virus or memetic entity.

Anyway, all that as preamble to a related idea which I'm sure someone has had before but came to me seeing my daughter play Pokemon Go. If spells are living things in some fashion and wizards are forced to adventure to find them and master them, aren't they kind of like Pokemon? Eldritch viruses or self-assembling arcane subroutines. Free-living (at least currently) cheat codes to the universe. Things to be captured and tamed and bent to will of the mage.

I think this sort of framing could make the finding and learning of spells on scrolls more interesting (or at least more challenging), and I think it would definitely suggest interesting things that could be used to develop the background the campaign world.

On The Frontier

My recent readings in science fiction have had me thinking about Star Frontiers. The setting more than the game mechanics. I've done various riffs on the species and things before, but I don't think I've ever really thought about how I'd run it "straight"--at least not since I ran it in middle school. Here are some bullet points of things I've thought of:

Managed Tech

"We of the Institute receive an intensive historical inculcation; we know the men of the past, and we have projected dozens of possible future variations, which, without exception, are repulsive. Man, as he exists now, with all his faults and vices, a thousand gloriously irrational compromises between two thousand sterile absolutes – is optimal. Or so it seems to us who are men."

- Jack Vance, The Killing Machine

Technology marches on and Star Frontiers is very much retrotech, which I would mostly keep, I think, but rather than just pretend technology never advanced in some areas, I like I would lampshade it with the existence of something like the Institute in Vance's Demon Princes novels that limits the available technology. Perhaps they do so because of the excesses of the past? Maybe AI or transhumanism or both drove humanity to Frontier Space from their homeworld?

We're Pan-Galactic

The pervasive Pan-Galactic Corporation could drive things in a cyberpunkian direction, but I think I would want to wink at the dystopian potential of this rather than making it the primary theme. Corporate futures aren't uncommon in science fiction pre-cyberpunk (it shows up in the 70s comic Star Hunters, for instance) but I'd think I'd want to take a sort of American Flagg! or 2000AD satirical nod to it rather than make everything about fighting the system.

Rockets

Star Frontiers doesn't mention any sort of gravity generating tech and Knight Hawks has ship decks aligned like floors in a skyscraper. I'd retain that hard(er) science fiction approach.

Oz and the Dying Earth

Driving over the Thanksgiving holiday my family listened to the audiobook of The Patchwork Girl of Oz, and I was struck by how similar Baum's Oz stories are and some of Vance's work, particularly the Dying Earth related material. Some of it, of course, would be resemblances shared with other works of fantasy, but I think there is much more homology of Baum with Vance than say Howard, Smith, or Martin.

I've mentioned before the list of the elements of Vance's Dying Earth stories as outlined in Pelgrane Press' Dying Earth rpg:

• Odd Customs
• Crafty Swindles
• Heated Protests and Presumptuous Claims
• Casual Cruelty
• Weird Magic
• Strange Vistas
• Ruined Wonders
• Exotic Food
• Foppish Apparel

Some of those I think are present in Baum's Oz books, but there are others that have analogs. These are the ones that I think are most prominent:

Odd Customs. In the Dying Earth this relegated to cultural practices. In Oz, the people themselves may be odd not unlike the mythological peoples seem in Medieval or ancient travel tales. Still, the central aspect of using a culture taken to the absurd as an object of satire is present.

Weird Magic. This is all over the place in Oz, with many of the protagonists being products of it. The powder of life made by the Crooked Magician or the "Square Meal Tablets" certainly count.

Strange Vistas. Exploration is as important part of Oz as the Dying Earth. The weird underground world of the vegetable Mangaboos lit by glowing glass orbs in the sky would count, as would the the Land of Naught where the wooden gargoyles dwell.

Ruined Wonders. Oz doesn't have many ruins, but they do have Hidden Wonders, like the city of the China Dolls or the radium decorated city of the subterranean Horners.

Foppish Apparel. It isn't emphasized as much in the text, but it goes through in the illustration...

The other elements are less present in Oz, but Heated Protests/Presumptuous Claims has its analog in humorous exchanges and bickering. Oz isn't as cruel a place as the Dying earth--it shows up in children's stories after all--but it isn't without cruelty. It's a cruelty of the fairytale sort really where axes enchanted by witches might chop off a woodsman's limbs and an evil queen might desire a little girl's head enough to have it cut off.

There are other similarities not really accounted for here. Outlandish, unnatural monsters haunt the wilderness in both (and in both they are often capable of speech). Habitations are separated by wilderness and isolated cultures seem to exist along well-travelled roads. For the most part the societies of both settings seem fairly static (Oz a bit less so than the Dying Earth), in contrast to epic fantasies where world-changing events are part of the narrative. Overall, I think these could be summed up is that both settings seem perhaps descended from fairy stories, Oz more directly, and the Dying Earth through the fantasies of Smith, Cabell, and (maybe) Dunsany.