"This is Not My Game"

Back in March, I wrote a post about an interesting section of the original (1975) edition of Tunnels & Trolls that I found quite interesting, if only because it highlighted the similarities and differences between the approaches of Gary Gygax and Ken St. Andre. While re-reading T&T recently, I came across a passage I'd meant to bring up previously but had forgotten. The passage in question occurs early, in a section entitled "Troll Talk," where St. Andre recounts his memories of the creation of T&T and his general feelings about it and its genesis. He writes:

Lastly I wish to make one thing perfectly clear. This is not my game in any sense of the word except that I'm taking the trouble to get it printed so anyone who wants to can have a copy of the rules. Please feel free (as a Dungeon Master, not as a player-character) to modify and improve these basic rules as your imagination dictates to be right for you. You will recognize your successes by the enthusiasm of your dungeon-delvers and likewise the opposite.

This reminds me somewhat of the "afterward" [sic] of Volume 3 of OD&D, which counsels the referee to "decide how you would like it to be, and then make it just that way!" It also brings to mind Gary Gygax's reply to Ted Johnstone in Alarums & Excursions, where he agrees with the sentiment that "D&D is too important to leave to Gary Gygax." 

Just so.

REVIEW: Knockspell #2

As a general rule, I avoid reviewing any products with which I have even a slight association, but I am going to make an exception in the case of issue 2 of Knockspell magazine. I do so because I think it's both a noteworthy product in its own right, as well as another milestone in the development of the old school renaissance. That said, do bear in mind that I contributed two short articles to this issue and weigh my words here accordingly. Although I believe I can offer a fair review of this issue, the possibility of undue bias nevertheless exists and I'd be remiss not to mention it.

Issue 1 of Knockspell was an excellent kick-off for this magazine devoted primarily to supporting Mythmere Games' Swords & Wizardry. Issue 2 builds on the virtues of its immediate predecessor by expanding its page count (t0 86 pages, up from 61) and improving on its presentation. In addition, this issue sees the announcement that Knockspell will now be the "official" magazine for OSRIC, as well as for S&W, although Matt Finch states in his Editor's Note that he doesn't "like the word 'official.' Don’t look for any offi cial rules or official anything else to be coming out of this magazine, but you can expect to see more 1e material starting to show up in these pages as we continue to expand the magazine’s scope." Such a statement is nothing new in the old school community, of course, but it's always good to see this philosophical point restated, as it's at the core of the Old Ways it hopes to revive.

As I noted above, the presentation of this issue is a vast improvement over that of the first one. That's almost certainly due to Jeff Preston's coming on board as art director for Knockspell. Everything looks a great deal more polished than it did in issue 1 but without losing that hobbyist quality that's so essential to the appeal of endeavors like this. The interior illustrations are terrific, with many old hands like James Holloway and Liz Danforth joining the best of the new generation of old school artists. The color cover by Peter Fitzpatrick, depicting an adventurer being lowered down into a forgotten ruin, is inspiring and nicely sets the tone for this issue, a good portion of which is devoted to the thief character class.

Given how much material is packed within its 86 pages, it'd be impossible to comment on it all in any reasonably-sized blog post. Therefore, here are some of the issue's highlights in my opinion:

• Allan Grohe's discussion of "dungeon dressing," using the example of doors and how they can be used in different ways.
• Jason "Philotomy Jurament" Cone's expansion of his superb essay on "The Dungeon as Mythic Underworld."
• Four alternate thief classes for Swords & Wizardry, two each for the Core Rules and White Box versions of the game, plus an additional one in an interesting article task resolution in S&W.
  
• Another fine Fomalhaut adventure by Gabor Lux.
• Interviews with Stuart Marshall, Chris Gonnerman, Dan Proctor, and Matt Finch, where they each talk about the retro-clone games they've created.
• Michael Curtis offers up an amazing article on "Dungeon Oddities" that has already inspired me as I continue to work on my Dwimmermount megadungeon.
• Spell Complexity rules inspired by the fantasy supplement to Chainmail.
• An Arnesonian magic system.
• Many new magic items and creatures.

This list doesn't do issue 2 justice, as there are many more articles, both large and small, to be found within its pages. What's remarkable, I think, is not just the diversity of articles, but their quality. There wasn't a single article that left me wondering, "How did that get in here?" Furthermore, each one gave me something to think about, even the additional thief classes, which is high praise given that I've already written a thief class of my own (and which appears in this issue).

Issue 2 of Knockspell really does exemplify Mythmere Games' tagline "Imagine the Hell Out of It." For $10.15, you get an impressive amount of imagination, to be used as-is or to inspire your own creativity. I'm not exaggerating to say that this issue reminded me of Dragon during its Golden Age height. What we have here is a hobbyist periodical that manages to walk that fine line between amateur and professional that I consider the "sweet spot" for old school products. This isn't something thrown together in a slapdash fashion nor is it a slick and soulless cash grab. It is, I think, a textbook example of just what hobbyists can do nowadays, given the technology currently available.

Knockspell #2 thus sets a very high bar for its future issues and for future old school products in general -- something about which I doubt anyone can complain.

Presentation: 8 out of 10
Creativity: 8 out of 10
Utility: 7 out of 10

Buy This If: You're looking a terrific collection of articles to inspire your old school fantasy adventures and campaigns.
Don't Buy This If: You've already got all the inspiration you need.

A New Leaf

I'm still a bit swamped with various things besides the blog, but I've also been cogitating about a big post I plan to make over the next few days, sparked in part by Dave Arneson's death and by a number of interactions I've had with various people in the hobby over the last couple of weeks. The post is about a change in perspective I've had about OD&D and the constitution of old school play generally, a change nicely summed up by the wise words of Calithena in issue #4 of Fight On! when he calls the late Dave Hargrave "Gary's greatest disciple."

Anyone who comes to this hobby authentically and finds a way to make it their own is really continuing the original spirit of those three little brown books. And at a time when that spirit was most up grabs, Dave Hargrave unleashed the Arduin Grimoires, three more little brown books, on the world like a shydra with twenty-four vorpal battleaxes, and said: take a troll to lunch. It's whatever you want it to be.

The genie is out of the bottle. So in the end the reason that I call Dave Hargrave Gary's greatest disciple is that you and I are Gary's greatest disciples, at least to whatever degree we're really playing these games the way we want to play them and letting our imagination and desire drive the action on the table. As long as we keep creating something that we ourselves love, we're playing it right. Now go thou and do likewise.

I think this is just awesome, inspired stuff and I can't help but think the more widely this attitude is held, not just in the old school community, but throughout the entirety of this hobby, the better it'll be for all of us, regardless of our particular commitments and interests. I have a lot to say on this topic and will do so in the near future, but I thought it important to offer up a taste of what's to come.

Excellent Gygax Quote

Shortly before the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide was published, Gary Gygax wrote an article in The Dragon in which he discussed the differences in approach and presentation between the now-complete AD&D system and OD&D (which Gary simply calls "D&D"). As a historical document, it's a very intriguing article, because it suggests a relationship between the two games that clearly never came to pass, with OD&D eventually morphing into something very different than what is described in this quote:

The D&D game will always be with us, and that is a good thing. The D&D system allows the highly talented, individualistic, and imaginative hobbyist a vehicle for devising an adventure game form which is tailored to him or her and his or her group. One can take great liberties with the game and not be questioned.

There are many reasons why the version of D&D described in the quote ceased to exist, at least as far as TSR was concerned, but it's a shame nonetheless. I suppose there was simply an insufficiently large market for this vision of OD&D. Had there been more demand for such a beast, I don't doubt TSR would have supported and promoted it. What an alternate universe that would have been!

Where I'm Going with All This

I'm done teasing; time to reveal all.

One of the constant themes of this blog is the curse of "brandification," the eventual reduction of any and every creative endeavor to a mere commodity that can be marketed and sold, typically without much regard for either the origins or purpose of the endeavor in the first place. I've railed about this in several contexts -- Lovecraft, Barsoom, Flash Gordon -- but it's with regards to Dungeons & Dragons that I've focused most of my ire.

The Gygax quotes I posted, the first from February 1979 and the second from November 1985, pretty clearly illustrate a shift in the thinking of one of the game's creators over the course of nearly seven years. The first quote is from the Golden Age of TSR, when "the hobby" had still not fully given way to "the industry." That's not say or to imply that TSR wasn't trying to maximize its profits in every way it could do so; the publication of the Moldvay Basic Rules less than a year after the first quote is evidence that that's clearly not the case. Neither am I suggesting that, at some point, the real, kindly Gary Gygax was replaced by a corporate mandroid who wanted nothing less than total domination of the hobby games market.

The past can't be changed and neither can the present direction of the game the current rights holders have somewhat implausibly dubbed Dungeons & Dragons. I can whine and moan about these things all I want, but what's done is done, regardless of my feelings about it. Consequently, I think those of us involved in the old school renaissance have an opportunity here not so much to rewrite history as to provide an "alternate history," one in which the hobby never gave way to the industry.

We're fortunate in many ways that we're a small, niche-y community; there's simply not a lot of money to be made through the creation of new old school products and there never will be. Barring some utterly unpredictable turn of events, the old school renaissance simply won't have much impact beyond those of us who are already involved in it. History has spoken and the Old Ways lost; there is no going back. I say this is fortunate, because it means that we're highly unlikely ever to be offered the same temptations as was TSR toward the end of the Golden Age. The Cursed Chateau is never going to sell millions of copies, for example, and, chances are, no other new old school product will either. Indeed, we'll be lucky to sell hundreds of copies in most cases.

But that's OK. I wasn't drawn back to the old school by promises of wealth and fame. What drew me here was the core philosophy behind it, what Matt Finch wonderfully sums up in the phrase "imagine the hell out of it." That's what it's all about for me and I'm pretty certain that's what it's all about for most of us who play Swords & Wizardry, write for Fight On!, or construct our own little brown books. This isn't "nostalgia," unless by "nostalgia" one means a preference for the way things were done in the past. I think most of us are keenly aware that even the Golden Age wasn't perfect or that not everything that's come out since 1983 has been utterly worthless (speaking as someone who made a living writing for a large number of games published post-1983).

It's a mistake, though, to simply discount the old school renaissance as just a bunch of grumpy middle-aged guys complaining about "kids today." There's some of that -- heck, sometimes a lot of that -- but it's not grumpiness for its own sake; it's an emotional reaction to the knowledge that this small community is it. We are the keepers of the flame, because we have to be. No one else is going to do it. There is simply no "market" for most of these products and no companies really interested in the Old Ways except those we've founded ourselves. If we want to keep the fire burning, we have to stoke it and understand -- really understand -- that, to most gamers, we're at best quaint curiosities and at worst cantankerous evolutionary foot-draggers.

I say none of this to be depressing. Truth be told, I find the embrace of the cold, hard facts of the matter to be liberating. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being hobbyists who produce niche products that appeal only to other hobbyists, if doing so satisfies your desire to create and share what you create. That's what roleplaying was in the beginning; that's what it was for a goodly number of years after its invention. Just because it changed in various ways since doesn't mean we should acquiesce to those changes or, worse yet, despair about them.

"Imagine the hell out of it" just isn't a catchphrase; it's why the old school community can survive and prosper despite being beneath the notice of the industry. To that I say, "Good!" Play. Imagine. Create. Share. That's what this is all about. Never forget that. Never lose sight of that. The rest simply doesn't matter.

No-Brainer

In light of the rather unexpected level of response to my post yesterday about the 4e paladin, I realized that I ought to do a post about what I'd have done if I'd have been given total freedom to create a new edition of Dungeons & Dragons. I'm a bit busy at the moment and thus unable to write up a comprehensive post just yet, but I did want to offer up one thing I'd do that strikes me as a no-brainer: bring back the Basic and Advanced "brand names."

One of the oddities about D&D naming conventions is that AD&D was created when there was no Basic D&D. Neither OD&D nor the Holmes edition call themselves "Basic." By the time that there was a true Basic D&D, AD&D had been out for several years and the two games, though related, were no longer designed or marketed as being on the same "continuum." There was a family resemblance between the two games, sure, but there was never any formal connection between them, at least as far as TSR was concerned.

As far as the fans were concerned, though, Basic and AD&D were two sources of ideas and adventures and most people who entered the hobby during the period between 1979 and 1984 tended to make little distinction between them. Indeed, I've still never been given a satisfactory answer to exactly why TSR bothered to maintain two separate lines, given the large amount of crossover between the buyers of both.

In the crazy world where I was given total control over D&D, there'd be a Basic D&D game covering levels 1-5 (or thereabouts) that'd come in a box and sell for under $20 in game and toy stores. It'd be aimed at children ages 10 and up (or thereabouts) and would focus primarily on dungeon adventuring. Advanced D&D would be aimed at older kids (14+) and would follow the traditional three-book model. The important part of this plan is that the rules of both Basic and Advanced would be the same, with Basic necessarily being, well, more basic in terms of complexity and presentation, but they'd still be completely compatible with one another. This approach would necessarily mean that the rules would have to be far simpler than either WotC edition, but that's a good thing in my book.

The icing on the cake would be that both versions of the game would be one-shots. That is, there's the boxed set and there are the three books, but that'd be it. There would certainly be adventures and possibly miniatures, but there'd be no supplements or additional rules beyond whatever fans or third parties produced (I'd make the game almost completely open BTW). Every few years, there might be new "editions" with new art and errata integrated into the text, but nothing in the way of changes to the way the game plays, because it's important that when a kid finds his Dad's old copy of the game, he can still play it with his friend who got a shiny new copy for his birthday. That's the way to ensure that the hobby survives and prospers from one generation to the next.

But this is all a pipe dream and further evidence of why I'll never be put in charge of D&D.

Holmes Basic

As I've mentioned on many occasions, I began playing D&D in late 1979 with the Basic Set edited by J. Eric Holmes rather than either OD&D, like some of my older contemporaries, or Moldvay, like most of my younger contemporaries. The Holmes Basic Set was published in 1977 and is kind of a strange bird, being at once a revision and representation of OD&D for the mass market, an introduction to the then-unpublished AD&D game, and a unique game in its own right.

While I never played a "pure" Holmes game -- I used a weird mix of Holmes plus AD&D plus house rules/variants I picked up from my friend Mike's metalhead brother -- I still have a lot of fondness for this particular version of D&D. Some of that is simple nostalgia, but some of it is because, having recently reread this 48-page book -- shorter even than Moldvay -- it comes across as the last gasp of pre-fad D&D. That is, it's clearly a product written for people already involved in the wargames/early RPG hobby rather than a true mass market product in the way that Moldvay's revision is. This should come as no surprise, since Holmes was heavily involved in the early fanzine communities that helped propel D&D to the heights of success it would later enjoy. This version of the game is clearer and better written than the little brown books, but I guess what I'm saying is that, despite that, it feels much more continuous with the LBBs than does even AD&D, never mind Moldvay or Mentzer.

I think that continuity is often discounted much too readily by people who don't share or even understand its attraction. One of the things that's drawn me back so powerfully to OD&D and its spin-offs is that continuity. I'm not a first generation gamer; I didn't play OD&D and I wasn't a wargamer. But I knew a lot of people who were and who were involved, sometimes heavily, in the fan communities that sprang up at the dawn of the hobby. They'll always be my spiritual "big brothers," who initiated me into this pastime and showed me the ropes of how to be a referee. I'm forever grateful to them for that and games like the Holmes edition still speak to me of that period just before I got involved in gaming. Even if I didn't prefer the style of play these games espouse -- though I do -- I feel an obligation to honor those who came before and laid the foundation for the nearly 30 years of fun I've had playing D&D.

Holmes Basic is far from perfect, either as an introductory game or as a vehicle for keeping alive the spirit of OD&D. Nevertheless, I find it a good first attempt at a "Basic OD&D" and can't help but think that the retro-clone we're currently missing is something more in line with Holmes, a kind of half-step between the Wild West of OD&D and the mass marketization of Moldvay. There's a big part of me that thinks such a halfstep might, in fact, be the perfect intro RPG, one that marries the "imagine the hell out of it" philosophy of the old days with the better graphic design and presentation of contemporary game publishing. I find myself thinking about such things a lot these days, so perhaps it's another project to add to my pile.

(And for those who are interested, there's an excellent collection of house rules and rules extensions to Holmes Basic available here. With these, that 48-page booklet becomes a game capable of sustaining your campaign till 9th level. How cool is that?)

REVIEW: Points of Light

Points of Light, written by Robert Conley and Dwayne Gillingham, packs more old school goodness in its 48 pages than any product published in 2008 has any right to. Don't believe me? Take a look at the 11-page PDF preview and then come back here. Even a quick skim of that preview will make it clear what I'm talking about. Quite simply: Points of Light is the Wilderlands of High Fantasy for the 21st century -- and in some ways it's better. Hyperbole comes easily to me, doesn't it? Perhaps. Let's take a closer look at the book before continue with my effusive praise.

Points of Light describes four different settings, each one broadly consonant with the notion of a dangerous wilderness punctuated by small outposts of civilization. As everyone knows, this is the default setting assumption of 4e and the book's title is an allusion to it. I'll grant you that, when I first heard the title, I wasn't enthused. Like most things about 4e, "Points of Light," as a phrase, reminds me too much of my college philosophy classes, where 18 year-olds, confronted with Plato's dialogs for the first time, suddenly think thoughts they believe no one has ever thought before, failing to realize of course that Plato has been read and analyzed for 2500 years and that there are very likely no new thoughts about the great thinker. By the same token, "points of light" isn't new at all; it's been a setting assumption of D&D from the start. The formalization of the concept -- and the creation of jargon to describe it -- is a good indicator to me of how rootless 4e is, but that's a topic for another time. I don't blame the authors of Goodman Games for adopting the title in an effort to sell the product to players of the new edition, who could certainly learn a few things about the old school from its tightly-written pages.

Despite its title, Points of Light is not, in fact, a 4e product; indeed it's not a product for any system, since it contains almost no game stats at all. What stats it does include, such as references to classes and levels, for example, suggests that it's intended for D&D, but I have no doubt it'd be easily adaptable to any fantasy roleplaying game built on the same concepts as D&D. I was mostly quite pleased with this approach, as it increased the utility of the book a great deal and makes adaptation a snap. My only quibble -- and it's a tiny one -- is that some "high-level" NPCs are in fact given specific levels (Clr12, for instance). I'd have preferred that such things remain vague, so each referee could decide for himself what constitutes high-level. Now, such things are supremely easy to change, so I cannot complain too vociferously. I know from experience, though, that, if something is written in the book, at least some referees or players will expect it to be so and, in a toolkit product like this, the fewer expectations that are introduced, the better.

The meat of the book are the four settings it describes, each with an accompanying one-page hex map (each hex representing 5 miles). Each setting is given a capsule history of three or four paragraphs to "set the scene" and Adaptation Notes that give some ideas about how to customize it to suit the needs and interests of each referee. There is also a table of random encounters and random rumors to give the referee something from which to work in making the settings his own. The descriptions of the settings are divided into sections: Geography, describing terrain features and Locales, describing fixed "encounters," whether they be settlements, monster lairs, ruins, etc. Each hex is numbered and there is an entry in the appropriate section if the hex contains anything noteworthy. These entries are typically no more than a single paragraph, with a few (generally settlements) containing a little more detail (and possibly a thumbnail map). There's just enough detail here to spur the referee's own imagination and give a sense of a greater whole, but not so much that it's hard to change the details if so desired.

The four settings included in Points of Light are as follows:

• Wildland: An area analogous to an outlying province of the Roman Empire in the 5th century A.D. -- after the legions have gone. As its name suggests, it's a "wild" region, overrun with humanoid and barbarian tribes and only a few small outposts of civilization that cling to the old ways.
• Southland: An homage to the Outdoor Survival map of which OD&D often speaks, this setting is an untamed area "to the south" of civilized kingdoms and where the PCs are expected to go and establish themselves as local lords.
• Borderland: This is a war-torn area where several different factions seek the upper hand. It's a good locale for referees and players who like moral ambiguity and intrigue.
• Swamps of Acheron: The most unusual of the four settings, this one is located in an extraplanar realm dedicated to a Lawful Evil god, meaning that it's also the most limited of the settings. It's also the shortest of the four settings (and the one with the smallest map), which can be seen as either good or bad, depending on one's proclivities

Of the four settings, I found that both Wildland and Southland fired my imagination powerfully and I am already torn between using one or the other as the basis for a new campaign. Borderland is also excellent, but it's a bit less "primal" than the other two. The Swamps of Acheron is a puzzle. There are lots of good ideas within its description, but it's also very esoteric, being extraplanar in nature and the realm of an evil god. Its utility is much less than that of the other three, but the other three are so well-done that I scarcely minded. And of course, the Swamps of Acheron is good; it's just not as good in my opinion as the others, but tastes differ on such things.

The layout of the book is simple and usable. The illustrations are nice black and white pieces, definitely contemporary in their appearance but not of the Elmore strike-a-pose school. The writing is generally very clear and concise, with only a few infelicities here and there. The hex maps are simply gorgeous, a beautiful melding of old school sensibilities with modern technology. Indeed, that's how I could characterize Points of Light in general. It's an old school product with new school production values. The book even includes an extensive index, making it easy to find things, which is a nice if somewhat unnecessary touch in a book of this size. All in all, the presentation of Points of Light should serve as a model for how old school publishers present their own products. I'd have liked different interior art, for the most part, but it's not a huge issue and, given that the book is intended to appeal to a broad spectrum of fantasy gamers, I can't fault Goodman Games for not going with something more strongly connected to older forms of illustration.

If Points of Light has a significant flaw, it's the intimation of a larger setting when you look at all four regions it describes. Certain names, historical events, and concepts reappear throughout the book. Now, none of these things gets much -- or any -- explication in the text, so it's not a huge concern. My worry, I suppose, is that there will be a temptation to use these names and so forth as the basis for creating a larger setting that encompasses them all, as was done with the Dungeon Crawl Classics line. The desire to find coherence and unity where there is no need for either is a powerful force in the RPG hobby today. As it stands, Points of Light gives us the thinnest of details, a pencil outline on a broad canvas that we can then color to our own liking. However, I am sure there will be gamers out there who'd like to know more about the history of the Bright Empire or the teachings of the goddess Delaquain and game publishers have a tendency to cater to such obsessives. I'd hate to see that happen, but I can hardly fault this book for what might or might not happen in possible sequels to it.

Leaving aside my concerns for a future that might not be, Points of Light is nearly perfect -- so perfect in fact that I can reasonably call it the Wilderlands of High Fantasy for the next generation. Like its illustrious predecessor, this is a product that's meant to be used rather than pored over for trivial details. One cannot (yet) talk about the intricacies of any of its settings, because they simply don't exist. In that respect, I think it has more utility than the Wilderlands, but then the Wilderlands has had almost three decades of support products. Given that much time, I fear the "world" of Points of Light would be just as detailed. I hope that does not occur; I hope that the toolkit approach of this volume is kept pristine.

The animating philosophy behind this great book is "imagine the hell out of it," a do-it-yourself perspective that is positively refreshing in a hobby filled with brand building and canned settings. Points of Light is gaming at its best -- a call to each referee to use these raw materials to create their own worlds of the imagination rather than relying on the pabulum spoon fed by game companies looking to develop an IP. I have no idea if Points of Light will appeal to today's gamers; I'd love to find out that it sold like gangbusters. That'd be proof that the old ways aren't quite dead, that the kind of gaming I enjoy is still cherished. Regardless, this is a terrific book and I can't speak highly enough about it. Go out and buy a copy and see for yourself.

Final Score: 5 out of 5 polearms

Old School Pleasure

I believe I've mentioned on more than one occasion that my introduction to Dungeons & Dragons came in the form of the boxed edition released in 1977 and edited by Eric Holmes. This edition is sometimes called "Holmes Basic," although my copy of the rulebook doesn't use the term "Basic Rules" or anything of the sort. Instead, it's simply Dungeons & Dragons without qualification. My set included a monochrome cover version of module B1-In Search of the Unknown and included chits and a coupon for polyhedral dice from TSR when they became available.

The funny thing about the Holmes edition is that, while it was clearly intended to be an introduction to the forthcoming AD&D rules -- the Players Handbook would be released a year later -- it's not wholly compatible with them. Or rather, the Holmes edition has its own idiosyncrasies not found in either OD&D or in AD&D. Chief among is the use of the fivefold alignment system (Lawful Good, Chaotic Good, Neutral, Chaotic Evil, Lawful Evil) and the fact that, until the release of 4e, it was the only version of D&D where magic missile required an attack roll to hit.

When I first started playing in late 1979, we used the Holmes rules as our starting point, modified with the rules from the three AD&D rulebooks, since they were already out by the time I entered the hobby. When conflicts arose, I generally favored the AD&D tomes over Holmes, but Holmes had the advantage of being nice and short and generally clearer (to my young mind anyway), even if it wasn't written by the Dungeon Master himself.

One of the things I loved about Holmes -- and the thing that hooked me forever -- was the equipment list. And I mean loved. That list sealed my fate forever. You see, it was that list that helped everything fall into place for me. Without it, D&D might appear to be just a fairly complex board game, with characters and monsters just being different types of "pieces." Remember, too, that I had played Dungeon! and that brilliant game does just that -- makes a board game of dungeon delving.

Throw in an equipment list, though, and suddenly (for me at any rate) the essence of D&D is clear: this is a game about outfitting an imaginary expedition into a fantastic underworld filled with mythological beasts and legendary treasures. Why else would their be entries and costs for 50' rope, small boats, sacks of various sizes, iron spikes, and weeks' worth of rations? Take a moment to think about that. Weeks' worth of rations. This isn't some quick smash and grab operation, but rather a carefully planned foray into the unknown. It was like nothing else I'd ever seen or even imagined -- Lewis & Clark setting off into the ruins of Zothique by way of the Hammer horror films. What's not to love?

Over the years, I've met fewer and fewer people who love equipment lists -- indeed many loathe having to choose equipment for their characters. Me, I don't mind so much, although, to be fair, I tend to be the referee rather than a player nowadays. Many games don't even bother with them, preferring to treat necessary equipment as a background assumption rather than as an important part of play. D&D in all its editions seems to have (mostly) stayed true to this tradition, although 4e is the least true to its heritage, with fewer odd bits of "exploratory" equipment and magical food that takes up little space and can feed a grown person for 10 days.

To that I say, "Bah." That equipment list in Holmes fired my imagination in innumerable ways. All the 10' poles, lanterns, different types of mirrors, and the like made me ask questions, both as a player and as a referee. Why exactly was there a silver mirror as well as a steel one? For that matter, what difference did the material from which my cleric's cross was made make? And so on. Buying equipment, planning a dungeon expedition, thinking ahead not just to six hours from now but six days from now -- these are the essence of D&D for me. This is what grabbed me as a 10 year-old in the winter of 1979 and I would miss it if it were gone from my games.

PlaGMADA

Here's a really neat site: PlaGMADA, which stands for "play generated map and document archive." It's a site devoted to archiving the materials gamers have created for use in their own campaigns, from maps to character sheets to handouts. This is great stuff and I may contribute some of my own gaming materials to the archive.

Thanks to Allan Grohe for the pointer.

Speaking of Old D&D Campaigns

Here's a scan of a small section of a much larger map I did for my old campaign world of Emaindor.
I drew -- and colored! -- this by hand when I was 13 or 14, so that puts its origin in 1984 or thereabouts. I'd been playing in a version of the same setting for several years prior to that (as well as in a Greyhawk-based campaign). I can't quite recall why I used graph paper instead of hex paper, but I suspect it's because I didn't have hex paper larger enough to cover the vast amount of terrain I wanted to draw.

You will note I was very fond both of calligraphy and of imaginary languages. I created several of them (Cynda, Emânic, Otrenska, and Rathwynnic, derived from Dutch, Welsh, Swedish, and Old English, respectively) with simple grammars and extensive vocabulary lists. I found that even the silliest names sounded much cooler if they were translated into a language no one natively understood.

The setting itself was a weird mishmash of things, but was primarily a medieval Europe knock-off, albeit one that mix and matched cultures and time periods. I had a Frenchified Roman/Byzantine Empire analog, for example, and an Arthurian/Celtic bunch standing in for the Germans. Now that I think on it, there were a lot of Arthurian elements to the setting, because, let's face it, King Arthur is heroic and tragic in a way that appeals to teenage boys (and old men, ironically enough). Despite being an AD&D world, it was even more strongly human-dominated than you'd expect. There were no halflings and few gnomes. Dwarves were reclusive but present and elves were reclusive to the point of xenophobia. Most of my adventures were political or investigative in nature, a tendency of mine that hasn't changed much in 20+ years.

A few years ago, I had a professional cartographer do a rendition of these maps and it was really cool to see that. I'll dig around on my computer to see if I can find them again. I won't say I prefer my amateur versions, because I'm not sure I do, but I still have a lot of pride in them. I spent untold hours drawing them and carefully placing the towns and cities and sites and naming them all. It was a labor of love and pretty well illustrates why I still love this hobby after so many years.

REVIEW: Eldritch Weirdness, Book One

Welcome to Eldritch Weirdness, the first booklet of Options and Resources for the Swords & Wizardry game, containing 30 optional spells to inspire your imagination. All these spells are described in the S&W format, so they’re less detailed and more open-ended than you’ll find in most fantasy role-playing games. One spell, “Infuse,” is so open-ended it’s got no discernable game purpose at all, unless you add something somewhere. Like everything else in Swords & Wizardry, you’ve got the basics: now go and imagine the hell out of it.

So begins Matt Finch's Eldritch Weirdness, Book One, the first supplement to his OD&D retro-clone Swords & Wizardry. That opening paragraph sets the tone, not just for the five pages of arcane spells that follow, but also for the whole of the S&W project. "Imagine the hell out of it" is a brilliant summation of this minimalist retro-clone that both respects the roots of the hobby and points the way toward the future.

How does S&W do this? For one, the entirety of its text is Open Game Content, meaning that anyone, including publishers, can use as little or as much of its text as they wish in their own products without the need for a special license or permissions. S&W also has its own "compatibility-statement license," which allows you to indicate that your games or products are compatible with S&W. Secondly, its text is a very close approximation of OD&D and some of its supplementary materials, including a fair degree of "elbow room" when it comes to adjudicating many game mechanics. There are differences, of course, some of which, such as the Hit Dice conventions -- I favor D6 for all classes and for monsters -- bring the game a fair bit closer to AD&D than I would like, but they are easily fixed. Indeed, the real genius of S&W is that its core rules are intended to be easily edited and then printed out, so each referee can make the game his own. Likewise, the rules are light enough that they can expanded in numerous directions without having to worry about the entire mechanical edifice crashing down on you.

But this post is a review of Eldritch Weirdness, not Swords & Wizardy. The 8-page PDF consists of a cover, five pages of text describing 30 arcane spells, and two pages devoted to the Open Game License. The entire package sells for $1.50. Let me state at the outset that I love the cover page. The very title itself recalls Supplement III to OD&D, Eldritch Wizardry, and font chosen for it (which it shares with the S&W logo) is a legible blackletter script that sets the perfect tone. The cover also features a black and white illustration by the author that depicts a robed and cueball-headed wizard conjuring with the aid of a crystal ball. It's a very nice image that recalls the best old school art, while not being imitative of any of it. The style and content is original yet evocative. I'd like to see more art done in this fashion.

The meat of the book itself is 30 optional arcane (i.e. magic-user) spells, from ball of ice to word of IOUN. As you would expect from magic spells of the old school, their effects are often quirky and sometimes even without immediately obvious use. The spell infuse mentioned in the quote above "infuses liquids (usually prepared ones) with magical propensities and potentials. It does not, in and of itself, create potions." What does that mean? I can think of several answers, but Eldritch Weirdness canonizes none of them, instead leaving it to the referee to decide for his own campaign. Another spell, called Omar's mistake, causes the caster to demonstrate numerous strange and unusual traits and qualities at once, some beneficial -- members of the opposite sex have a 1% chance to be affected as if by a charm spell -- and some not -- the caster may feel compelled to steal shiny objects. Why would anyone cast this spell? That's for each magic-user to decide should he learn it. And so on.

Eldritch Weirdness was thus aptly named; it's filled with lots of odd, slightly off-kilter magic that makes you scratch your head a wonder, "Why?" It's the perfect antidote for the overly mechanized, honed to a fine sheen approach we've seen in more recent edition of D&D, where randomness, judgment calls, and whimsy are frowned upon. I simply could not help being inspired by this book, which is remarkable both because it's so short and because, after nearly 30 years of gaming, I thought I'd seen it all. It's rare when you come across a work of imagination that makes you sit up and take notice. Eldritch Weirdness does just that and I heartily recommend it for anyone who wants to see a new product that shows what old school is all about.

Final Score: 5 out of 5 polearms