The Art of the Cavalier

The first appearance of the cavalier character class in issue #72 of Dragon (April 1983) is something I remember very acutely, in large part because I loved the idea of a knightly AD&D character class. For that reason, I can also remember the three illustrations, all by Keith Parkinson, that accompanied it. Here's the first one, which has a blue background for some reason. Perhaps Dragon was experimenting with color interiors at the time?  

Though I've never been the biggest fan of Parkinson's art, I do like this piece, especially the weird combination of a barbute helmet with the brush like that worn by a Roman legate or military tribune. I also appreciate that the horse looks sturdy enough to carry a man in that kit.

Here's the second illustration, featuring what appears to be the same cavalier, possibly fighting kobolds. I say "appears," because the cavalier in this piece holds his sword in his right hand, whereas the one above holds it in his left. At first, I thought that maybe one or the other images had been reversed by accident – this happens a lot in publications – but Parkinson's signature looks correct in both of them, so I'm not sure what's going on. Maybe the cavalier is ambidextrous?

Finally, we get this depiction of a female elven cavalier astride a unicorn. One of the cavalier's abilities is horsemanship. As he levels, the cavalier gains greater skill with his mount, as well as a wider range of possible beasts he can ride. In the case of female elves, unicorns become a mount option for them starting at 4th level, which is cool, I suppose. On the other hand, I'm an obnoxious purist about unicorns. To my mind, they're not just white horse with horns but hybrid creatures with aspects of horses, deer, goats, and lions, so I'm not especially keen about this particular unicorn, but whatever. I still remember this piece more than four decades later, so I guess that's what counts.
 

Be of Goodly Order

Long ago, I wrote about a fantasy art book that fascinated my childhood friends and I. Called Down in the Dungeon, the book featured color illustrations of a locale called Zarakan's Dungeon. Because there's very little text in the book, there's almost no context for anything depicted in it, beyond this overview of the subterranean complex.

It's a very cool illustration, especially because all of the artwork included in Down in the Dungeon can be placed within it. In fact, if you look carefully at the overview, you can even make out smaller versions of some of the scenes found elsewhere in the book. For example, in the upper right hand portion of the overview, you can see a bunch of pillars. Those pillars – and what's around them – can be seen more clearly in a pair of other illustrations.

In the book, these two illustrations are side by side, as you can see from the creature passed out from intoxication in the first piece, whose hand can be seen in the second one. In the book, a captain accompanies them, reading "Neutral Ground. Be of Goodly Order." Clearly, this is meant to be a bar or tavern located within the dungeon, where all its various inhabitants, monstrous or otherwise, can rub shoulders not only with one another but also with adventurers – so long as they all are "of goodly order."

It's a pretty strange concept, a bar within a dungeon and yet I can recall at least one dungeon I played in as a young man that included such a thing. The bar was explicitly a "safe area" where characters could rest and even re-supply, though to a limited extent. I don't know where the referee, whom I met at a "games day" at a local library, got the idea for such a thing. I'd never seen anything like it before (since I hadn't yet encountered Down in the Dungeon) and I recall finding it odd. However, my fellow players and I went along with it, since there were all sorts of weird NPCs in the place with whom we enjoyed interacting. Plus, as I said, the bar was a place where our characters could rest up, heal, and get more food/water, arrows, and other similar things. I suppose the referee intended it as a mercy of sorts, since the rest of the dungeon was pretty brutal.

Has anyone else ever encountered something like this in a dungeon? Are there any examples of it in fantasy literature or perhaps in a fantasy RPG? I can't shake the feeling that I'm failing to remember something obvious.

Merry Christmas!

Ode to a Classic

One of the things I miss about the early days of the Old School Renaissance is how many blogs there were and how interconnected they all were. There was a lot of discussion back and forth between this blog and that one. Someone would make an interesting – or controversial – post and the next thing you knew, there were lots more posts commenting on it. This created a really dynamic ecosystem of personalities and ideas that gave those early days a distinct vibe that I just don't feel anymore, but I'm old, so that might just be me.

Sadly, I don't read as many other blogs as I used to do in those heady days. Consequently, I often miss really excellent posts, like this one, which was pointed out to me by Geoffrey McKinney, a longtime reader of this blog, as well as an accomplished old school game writer. The post, over at the A Knight at the Opera blog, talks at length about "the best RPG cover of all time," namely that of the 1977 Traveller boxed set. It's an excellent post with which I completely agree and I'm grateful to Geoffrey for pointing out to me. 

Since I've been talking a lot about Traveller here lately, I thought it'd be worth sharing more widely. Head on over to A Knight at the Opera and give it a read. Be sure to leave a comment, too, if you like it. I'm sure the author would appreciate knowing that something he's written is being enjoyed. I know I always do.

A Random Demon

Being a big fan of the humorous illustrations of Wil McLean, I thought I'd share this fun little comic from issue #20 of Dragon (November 1978). 

Tyo-tomat

Yet more glorious Secrets of sha-Arthan art from Zhu Bajiee, this time a Ga'andrin tyo-tomat (or "elixir master"), a kind of sorcerer who supplements his natural magic talents by the regular ingestion of mutagenic chemicals. 

A Birthday Gift

Today is my birthday, so I'm mostly taking it easy. However, my definition of "taking it easy" includes working on the current manuscript for Secrets of sha-Arthan. In this latest iteration, I've eliminated race-as-class, in large part because I wanted to open up greater possibilities for players of nonhuman characters, like the Ga'andrin. 

Originally, I'd imagined that the Ga'andrin as eschewing sorcery entirely, Then, I thought about relegating their sorcerers to the realm of NPCs. However, after seeing Zhu Bajiee's latest artwork for me, I knew I couldn't deprive players of the opportunity to play one of these guys. As usual, he did a great job of bringing my vague ideas to life. I can't wait to finish the rulebook and share it with the world.

The Darkest Shadows

Whatever one's feelings about the setting itself, Gerald Brom's artwork for Dark Sun was truly stunning. Take, for example, this piece which appeared on the cover of issue #173 of Dragon (September 1991), one month before the formal release of the boxed set. The issue featured a number of different articles intended to introduce Athas to the magazine's readers, but, for me, this cover image probably did more to sell me on Dark Sun than did any of those articles.

David A. Trampier and David C. Sutherland III Memorial Art Contest

The Bishop Returns

Another piece of Will McLean's Wizardry artwork featuring the bishop (and the Lord).

Hidden Details

In a comment to my earlier post about level titles beyond Dungeons & Dragons, Tamás Illés pointed out that the later installments of the computer game Wizardry included level titles (as did EverQuest). Not being well versed in the history of the Wizardry, this comment naturally piqued my interest. I spent some time yesterday looking into the matter by seeking out scans of the original manuals online. In doing so, I not only confirmed the truth of the comment – more on that in a future post – but also stumbled across something equally interesting.

I never owned Wizardry myself. When I played it, I did so on a friend's computer after having watched him play it. Consequently, I don't think I ever saw the game's manual or, if I did, I have no recollection of doing so. That's too bad, because the manual contains notable artwork, like this one, depicting the four basic character classes:

Then, there's this illustration, depicting the four elite character classes:

Leaving aside the very odd illustration of the samurai – he looks more like a soldier in Cromwell's New Model Army than a Japanese warrior to me – what immediately caught my eye was the bishop on the far right. He reminded me of this famous illustration from the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide:

I initially assumed that the Wizardry illustration was an allusion or homage to the DMG piece, since it seemed unlikely that the distinct appearance of the bishop's "miter" was an independent creation (unless perhaps they were both referencing a third source). However, the question was very quick resolved when I finally noticed the artist's signature – McLean. This was clearly Will McLean, the very same artist who provided all those humorous little cartoons scattered throughout the Dungeon Masters Guide (though he is erroneously credited in the Wizardry manual as "Will Mclain."

This discovery made me happy, because I've been a fan of Will McLean's cartoons for years. I'll post some additional examples of them in an upcoming post.

Lament for a Lost Age

One of my most popular posts is "The Ages of D&D," which I wrote more than fifteen(!) years ago, on January 11, 2009. In it, I attempted to sort the history of Dungeons & Dragons into a series of "ages" – Golden, Silver, Bronze, etc. I was still fairly new to the blogging game when I wrote that post and, while I largely stand behind its conclusions, I now concede that I relied more on hazy memories and intuitions than on anything approaching "research." Perhaps one day I'll offer a more considered discussion of the Ages of D&D, complete with evidence to support my assertions, but, for the purposes of the present post, I'm going to go with the categories and timeframes I established back in 2009.

In the original post, I assert that the Golden Age of D&D lasted almost a decade, from 1974 until 1983. In retrospect, I'm not entirely sure why I chose 1983 as the end point of the Golden Age. My guess is that it I saw the arrival of Dragonlance in 1984 as marking a definitive break with the way the game had previously been marketed and played. Even so, if you read my original post, you'll see that I allow for the possibility that the Golden Age actually ended somewhere 1979 and 1981, with either the completion of AD&D or the publication of Moldvay's Basic Set being important milestones, albeit for different reasons. Even then, I think I recognized that the game had already changed by the time I first encountered it in late 1979 and indeed that I might never have encountered it at all had it not been for those changes.

I've previously discussed the foundational role played by David C. Sutherland III in giving birth to the esthetics of Dungeons & Dragons. Sutherland's grounded, vaguely historical illustrations were, for several years, the face of D&D. During the three-year period between 1975 and 1978, Sutherland and Dave Trampier were together responsible for nearly all the art that appeared in TSR products, not just Dungeons & Dragons but other games, too, like Gamma World and Boot Hill. Not bad for a couple of "talented amateurs." is it?

By now, you can probably guess where I'm going with this: the end of the Golden Age is marked by a shift in the game's esthetics away from the extraordinary ordinary artwork of Sutherland and Trampier and toward something else – just what is a different question. Nevertheless, consider that, in 1979, TSR began to expand its stable of artists, hiring Erol Otus (whose TSR artwork debuted in later printings of the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide) and David "Diesel" LaForce (ditto). The next year, in 1980, TSR added Jeff Dee, Jim Roslof, and Bill Willingham as well. The cumulative effect of their artistic talents is unmistakable.

The change in the look of Dungeons & Dragons products in the aftermath of hiring these five artists cannot be denied. Pick up almost any D&D book or module published between 1979 and 1981 and compare it to its predecessors. Earlier products have a stiff, staid, "serious" look to them that, to my eyes at least, shows some continuity with the look and feel of the historical wargames out of which the hobby grew. By contrast, the D&D books and modules from the '79 to '81 period are bright, bold, and dynamic. They are clearly the work of different artists with very different esthetic sensibilities.

These sensibilities ranged from the comic book inflected art of Dee and Willingham to the more restrained heroic action of Roslof and the underground comix stylings of Otus. Whether this shift was "better" or "worse" than what preceded it is immaterial. What matters is that it happened and it denotes the beginning of a new phase in the history of Dungeons & Dragons – the mass marketing of the game to an audience beyond college age and older wargamers whose points of reference were the pulp fantasy authors and stories that I've attempted to draw attention to over the years.

I entered the hobby right smack in the middle of this period of D&D history. After my initial exposure to Dungeons & Dragons through the Holmes Basic Set and In Search of the Unknown, many of my earliest memories of the game are filtered through the artwork of Dee, Otus, Willingham, and the other newcomers to TSR. While only a few of my Top 10 Illustrations of the Golden Age – bear in mind I wrote those posts before I started to re-evaluate my thoughts on the matter – are the work of these artists, that does nothing to diminish the impact they had not just on me but on D&D's presentation to the wider world. For a large cohort of new players, the 1979–1980 hires defined Dungeons & Dragons in much the same way that Sutherland and Trampier did before them.

But, like all such periods of roiling creativity, it did not last long. By 1982, many of these artists no longer worked at TSR and those that remained, like LaForce, shifted over to cartography, doing illustrations only sporadically. New artists, like Larry Elmore and Jeff Easley, appeared on the scene around the same time, lending their considerable talents to depicting the fantastic realism of the dawning Silver Age. Lots of readers slightly younger than me no doubt have similar feelings of affection toward this next group of artists, as they should, but, for me, many of my fondest memories of Dungeons & Dragons will be forever intertwined with that first "new" generation of artists whose arrival on the scene coincided with my own.

The Book of Apshai

Later this week, I'll be posting a Retrospective on the early dungeoncrawler Temple of Apshai. While doing some research into this important computer game, I was reminded that, in 1985, publisher Epyx released Temple of Apshai Trilogy, which collected all three games in the series and graphically updated them for the newest generation of personal computers. Temple of Apshai Trilogy also included a game manual entitled The Book of Apshai whose interior contained, in addition to instructions on how to install and play the game, some truly amazing art by Mike Mott. 

Before getting to the interior art, here's the color cover art of the game box itself, courtesy of Ken Macklin. This image is reproduced, in black and white form, on the cover of The Book of Apshai.

Inside the book, we get to Mike Mott's work, like this piece showing an adventurer facing off against one of the game's iconic Antmen.

Speaking of Antmen, here's one lurking in the dark near a set of stairs the same adventurer is now descending.

The adventurer appears yet again, this time waiting around a stone pillar, sword drawn, as some vicious monster prepares to attack.

As in Dungeons & Dragons, torches are very important in Temple of Apshai. 

Here's a nifty little illustration from a section at the end of The Book of Apshai where the concept of roleplaying games is explained to an audience that, even in 1985, might still not understand it. The section is worthy of a post on its own, but I'll leave that for later.

I know nothing of Mike Mott, the artist behind these terrific illustrations. Does anyone have any details about him or his career? His artwork is both very good and very evocative, the kind of thing that often appeared in computer game manuals at the time. Just looking at it as I wrote this post was strangely inspiring, which is what good gaming artwork should be.

A (Very) Partial Pictorial History of Troglodytes

Since last week we looked at lizard men, I thought it would make sense to examine troglodytes next, since they're both humanoid reptilian monsters. There are, of course, lots of differences between them, starting with their alignment – troglodytes are Chaotic Evil, while lizard men are Neutral – I can nevertheless easily imagine someone confusing the two. With that in mind, how did TSR era Dungeons & Dragons visually distinguish between them?

The earliest illustrations I can find of troglodytes come from the AD&D Monster Manual (1977), both by Dave Sutherland. Sutherland gives trogs a much shorter snout and a large crest on their heads. These are both features that can be found in most of the depictions that follow.

The second illustration from the Monster Manual gives us a better look at these monsters' legs, as well as their scaly skin. Both pieces of art hide the troglodyte's tail in shadow, but it is there, if you look carefully.

Sutherland provides two additional depictions of trogs on the front and back covers of the original 1978 release of the module Descent into the Depths of the Earth. Here's the front cover, which shows them as looking little different from those in the Monster Manual.

The back cover of the module is interesting, because it depicts not only a troglodyte, but also an exceptionally long-nosed troll and a bugbear.

A troglodyte next appears in the Tom Moldvay D&D Basic rulebook (1981), as drawn by Bill Willingham. Willingham's take on the monster is clearly inspired by Sutherland's, but with a few new elements. First, ridges or frills like the head crest also appear on both arms. Also, the monster's face looks a bit more fishy or amphibian, with large, blank eyes and a mouth that reminds me of a catfish's. 

In 1982, as part of the AD&D Monster Cards, we get Jeff Dee's nifty take on troglodytes. Once again, it's broadly consonant with Sutherland's original, but Dee's version has a slightly more dinosaur-like appearance. Coupled with the stone axe it's holding, Dee gives the trogs a kind of Lost World flavor that I really like.

The same year, we get Jeff Easley's version in the AD&D module The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth. Though recognizable because of their head crests, these troglodytes look a bit fishy in appearance. Take note of their eyes and mouths, not to mention their scales, which strike me as more piscine than reptilian in appearance. 

1982 seems to have been a big year for troglodyte illustrations, because we get one by Jim Holloway in Against the Cult of the Reptile God. Though we don't get to see the entirety of the monster, what we do see suggests that it's closer to Sutherland than any of the other artists we've examined. It's also a return to a more clearly reptilian depiction, as you can see from its mouth and eyes.

In 1985, Citadel Miniatures released a troglodyte miniature that's also very reptilian in appearance. If you look carefully, you can see not only its crocodile-like scales but also its cranial ridges (which are smaller).

Two years later, in 1987, Ral Partha gained the AD&D miniatures license and released its own version of the troglodyte. Here's a trio of them, which, to my eyes anyway, don't look all that different than traditional depictions of lizard men. They do have the cranial ridges at least, though, like Citadel before them, they're much smaller than in previous depictions of them.

AD&D Second Edition's Monstrous Compendium (1989) saved the troglodyte for its second release (MC2), which suggests that TSR didn't see troglodytes as being as important as lizard men, who appeared earlier. True or not, we get this absolutely atrocious illustration of them (by Daniel Horne) that looks like an anthropomorphic horny toad with some serious dental problems. Yikes!

Then, in 1993, Tony DiTerlizzi provides this illustration for the Monstrous Manual. It's something of a break with previous versions. DiTerlizzi opts for a newt-like, amphibian appearance rather than a reptilian one.

Reviewing this sampling of troglodyte artwork from the TSR era of Dungeons & Dragons, I'm struck by two things. First, there is some degree of consistency in the depiction of these monsters, with most artists looking to Dave Sutherland's Monster Manual art as a foundation. Second, each post-Sutherland illustrator (with the possible exception of Holloway) put his own spin on the troglodytes by giving them some fish-like or amphibian characteristics. I can certainly understand why they might do this, since it's a good way to distinguish trogs from lizard men (and other reptile men) visually. At the same time, I think this variability contributes to rather than diminishes the conflation of troglodytes and lizard men, which likely explains why my vision of troglodytes is very close to that of Sutherland.

How about you? How do you view troglodytes?

A (Very) Partial Pictorial History of Lizard Men

Lizard men were introduced into Dungeons & Dragons in the pages of its first supplement, Greyhawk (1975). The first illustration of them appears on the inside cover of Supplement I, provided by Greg Bell. As we'll see, this image established the general outlines of what D&D's lizard men look like and nearly all of those that follow will use it as the foundation on which to build their own specific interpretations.

The next time we see a lizard man is the Monster Manual (1977), with artwork provided by Dave Trampier. There's a lot of similarity between Tramp's depiction and that of Bell above, like the tattered loincloth, spiny ridges on the head, and serpentine tongue. This is my default mental image of a lizard man, probably because it's the first one I ever saw. 

In the 1980 Rogues Gallery, Jeff Dee provided an illustration of a lizard man – or, rather, a human who was reincarnated as a lizard man by druidic magic. Aside from the additions of bracers and pirate boots, the latter of which are quite common in Dee's artwork, this looks pretty similar to the work of both Bell and Trampier. 

That same year, Grenadier Models acquired the AD&D miniatures license, producing numerous boxed sets of 25mm figures. One of these sets, Denizens of the Swamp, featured lizard men on its cover by Ray Rubin. The lead lizard man looks almost identical to Trampier's version from the Monster Manual. 

The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh was published in 1981 and contains this piece by Harry Quinn. Once again, we can see the influence of both Bell and Trampier, though I'd say Trampier has the upper hand. Look, for example, at the skull necklaces the lizard men are wearing, as well as their shields.

The module's immediate sequel, Danger at Dunwater (1982), also features lizard man art, this time depicted by Timothy Truman. Truman's take on the monster is much more bestial and savage.

The same year, the AD&D Monster Cards appeared. Jim Roslof offereed us his take on the lizard man, which doesn't differ all that much from the one found in the Monster Manual. Note again the presence of the skull necklace.

The 1983 Dungeons & Dragons cartoon series featured lizard men several times during the course of its run. Here's a trio of them, one of which (again) wears a skull necklace.

Jim Holloway's depiction of lizardmen in the AD&D Second Edition Monstrous Compendium is notable for downsizing the head and back ridges while also extending them to the end of the tail. Holloway also shortened the snout and shrank the size of the mouth. 

Tony DiTerlizzi's interpretation of lizard men appeared in the 1993 Monstrous Manual. It's very distinctive in many ways, such as the legs. Interestingly, DiTerlizzi gave the lizard man a polearm that looks very similar to the one Greg Bell included in his original illustration. I wonder if this was intentional.

Lizard men are not monsters about which I think a great deal, so it was instructive to take a look at their depiction during the TSR era. While there are undoubtedly many I've not included here – feel free to post your favorites in the comments below – what strikes me most about the ones I have included is how similar they are. Greg Bell laid a foundation in 1975 that Dave Trampier then built upon; all subsequent artists have either directly copied or slightly altered their work. 

The Quest

As promised, here's a closer look at one of the pieces of art found in The Official Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Coloring Album. 

This piece is accompanied by the following text:

Welcome to a world of bold adventurers, strange races, magic and monsters! Here at the Green Dragon Inn, a busy inn in a town on the shores of the Lake of Unknown Depths, a group of adventurers have met to plan a daring expedition in search of fabulous treasure. They sit at an outside table, quaffing amber ale and charting their course to wealth beyond belief. 

The Lake of Unknown Depths is a body of water within Gary Gygax's World of Greyhawk setting. The Green Dragon Inn is another locale from that setting, found in the River Quarter of the Free City of Greyhawk itself. However, the text doesn't explicit connect it to the Free City, asserting instead that it's found a nameless "town" on the shores of the lake. I can't help but wonder if this omission/obfuscation was deliberate.

In any case, the text continues:

In the left foreground, a pair of halflings, thieves by trade, ponder their part in the expedition. Ruddy-complexioned, their sandy hair and hazel eyes match their dusty gray and brown garments. 

I wish I'd remembered this illustration last month when I was looking at the depiction of halflings during the TSR era of D&D. The two halflings shown here look more like some sort of fairytale creature, such as a leprechaun or brownie, than Tolkien's hobbits.

 Across the table, the dwarven fighter's bright green eyes glow excitedly from his tanned face. Gold adornments glitter against the somber background of his dark brown beard and even darker waistcoat. Next to the dwarf, observing the party's map, is Sertern [sic] the cleric who, like his deity St. Cuthbert, favors blue for garb and silver for decoration.

Serten – spelled with only one "r" – was a player character in Gary Gygax's Greyhawk campaign, played by Gary's son, Ernie. His name, like that of the magic-user Tenser, is an anagram of "Ernest." Like the one described here, he was a cleric of St. Cuthbert. If it weren't for the fact that the name is consistently spelled as "Sertern," not "Serten," I'd have assumed the difference was due to a typographical error. However, it would seem to have been deliberate.

Behind and to the left of Sertern is a golden haired and russet garbed ranger, famed as a valiant fighting man. The elf to the right, indicating the goal on the chart, is both fighter and thief. His drab clothes suggest no particular identity, but his pale skin and auburn hair mark him as a wood elf. At his side stands another dwarven fighter, sporting a scarlet cap and gray beard. 

I assume that the references to colors throughout the text is intended as an aid to anyone who might choose to use the Coloring Album for its intended purpose. Even so, I must admit that it lends a certain vibrancy to the text it might otherwise lack. It's also a nice antidote to the notion that fantasy worlds come only in various shades of brown and black.

Gesturing with his tankard, the renowned fighter opposite wears his armorial colors: deep yellow for shirt and cap, green for trousers and vest. Two lesser warriors, lower right, are honing the sword blades to razor-like keenness. The swords themselves are works of art with gilded hilts and precious gems. The innkeeper, his wife and the stableboy are all busy caring for the wants of the adventurers, for they know the party will soon set forth on their quest – possibly to return loaded with bright gold!

Gygax won't win any awards for his prose, but he nevertheless paints a decent picture, especially when paired with the artwork of Greg Irons. Taken together, they present a somewhat grounded, even grubbier fantasy world of the sort one might find in the works of, say, Robert E. Howard or Fritz Leiber. I found myself thinking of Dave Trampier's treasure hunters from the back of the Monster Manual. The characters depicted here are all rough, hardened men on the make rather than conventional heroes. That's pretty cool in my opinion – and certainly in keeping with the literary roots of the game.