A Partial Gazetteer of the Planet Sagar

Sagar is the alien world that astronaut John Blackstar found on the other end of a black hole as revealed in the Filmation animated series Blackstar (1981). Here are a few of the fantastical locales he visited in the series:

CITY OF THE DESERT DWELLERS. A walled city beyond the Gorge of Winds where live an elfin people (perhaps related to the Desert Sprites) who possess the Healing Stone and guard it from the gargoyles who serve the Overlord. [ep 05]

DEMONLANDS. A barren region of jagged, coral-like formations and strange trees with boil-like growths where demons are particularly easy to summon. It is the location of a temple where the Overlord’s ally Taleena is high priestess and last worshipper. [ep 12]

MARAKAND. Floating city of the rapacious Shaldemar, the Zombie Master. The passing of Marakand leads to destruction of cities, but living beings are helplessly drawn up by its beams and Shaldemar uses his Sphere of Souls to transform his captives into soulless automatons, subject to his will. [ep 13]

TAMBORIYON. A lost city of the Ancient Ones, it lies on a jungle-choked island in the middle of a lake beyond the volcanic Flame Mountains. Tamboriyon's slender spires and domes bedecked with precious metals and jewels are now jungled-choked ruins, but the giant aumaton, Sumaro, who is the city's guardian, merely slumbers and may be reawakened by the unwise. [ep 02)

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.

Urshurak

Scott 'Dwarfland" Driver once opined that there was often more gaming inspiration to be had from "bad" fiction than from good. He was specifically talking about the works of Lin Carter, but I think this is often true in general. I haven't read Urshurak by the Brothers Hildebrandt and Jerry Nichols, so I can't comment on it specifically, but that seems to be the internet consensus. Here's a typical review.

Regardless, the art was surely the main selling point for purchasers in 1979. That and curiosity got me to pick it up on ebay a few months ago. It's gorgeous if you like the work of the Hildebrandt Brothers, though it could easily, I suppose be derided as too traditional or even generic nearly 50 years on. Certainly, the images and a thumbnail description of the plot mark it as a work of a more naive time when it comes to genre fantasy. There are heroes and a quest with swords and sorcerers and elves and dwarves in a vaguely faux Medieval Europe sort of setting. There are some sci-fi elements (it's a bit of fusion of Lord of the Rings and Star Wars), but no gestures toward realism, grittiness or deconstruction to be found.

Perhaps it's just nostalgia, but naive fantasy has a certain sort of appeal to me, though. It's not that I never want fantasy to go new places, but having seen the new places it has gone over the decades become, in their own way, stale or cliched or really shine in their focus on aspects other than adventure and action (which are the most relatable of fictional elements to the gaming table), I sometimes feel the pull for gaming inspiration to the things that wouldn't have made my reading list a decade or so ago.

And honestly, more fantasy epics could probably benefit from high tech Amazons. 

A Pantheon from Kirby's New Gods

Art by Alex Ross

Jack Kirby's so-called "Fourth World," an interconnected group of series at DC Comics from 1970-1973, posits a new group of god-like beings emerging from Ragnarok. These beings are presented and engage in action largely like other modern-era superheroes, but I've been thinking about whether one could make a pantheon from them usable in a traditional, medievalish fantasy game.

A notable trait of the so-called New Gods is that they are arranged in a sort of dualistic polytheism (not unlike the gods of Tekumel in Empire of the Petal Throne). The gods of New Genesis are the "good" gods and those Apokolips are the "evil" gods. 

As presented in the comics, the portfolios of the Apokolipsian gods (to the extent they are clear) are modern evils. They are mostly related to concerns of its author in post-World War II West, rather than traditional concerns of ancient or Medieval peoples. They will require some modification. They work better as devils or demons, probably, as Apokolips is pretty much Hell.

Interestingly, the stories that take place on Apokolips regarding the escape of Mister Miracle and friends have an almost gnostic dimension. Darkseid is a Demiurge sort of figure, while the Promethean Himon is the serpent in the stifling, poisonous Garden of Apokolips leading Mister Miracle to freedom.

In contrast, the gods of New Genesis are a bit more straightforward, harkening in many cases to Norse or Greek polytheistic figures. The problem is they just don't always have really clearly portfolios. 

Anyway, here's what I've got:

New Genesis:

• Highfather - Patriarchal leader of the gods of New Genesis. God of Wisdom, Diplomacy, and Rulership.
• Lightray - God of light, probably the sun too.
• Orion - God of War; given to berserker rages.
• Mister Miracle - A dying and rising god, probably with a mystery cult.
• Big Barda - Warrior goddess; defector from Apokolips
• Black Racer - Psychopomp and god of Death.
• Lonar - the Wanderer; god of horses and hospitality
• Metron - God of knowledge and travel.

Apokolips:

• Darkseid - Supreme god of evil.
• Kalibak - Monstrous son of Darkseid; god of violence and destruction.
• DeSaad - Lord of torture and cruelty
• Doctor Bedlam - God of Madness
• Female Furies - A (more) evil version of Valkyries
• Glorious Godfrey - God of Lies
• Granny Goodness - The cruel mother; a stealer of children, perhaps a Baba Yaga sort?
• Kanto - God of assassins
• Mantis - Vampiric lord of plagues and pestilence
• Steppenwolf - Dark lord of the hunt

Setting Folklore

I was on vacation last week and visited Antwerp where I saw the Brabofontein in the Grote Markt. It depicts events related to the legendary founding of Antwerp, where Roman soldier Silvius Brabo defeated Druon Antigonus, who had been demanding tribute to use a bridge over the River Scheldt. Brabo's killing of the giant provides the folk etymology of the origin of the name Antwerp as Brabo did to Druon what the giant had done to unfortunates who couldn't pay his toll: he cut off his hand and threw it across the river. Hence, the name Antwerp is supposed to come from handwerpen (throwing hands).

Anyway, the legend and the statue caused me to consider why isn't there more of this sort of folklore and folk etymology in settings? I sort of did some of this with the City and Weird Adventures (see "Thraug's Head", and perhaps "Saint Joan of the City" and "Short People, Big Worm"--admittedly, these blur the lines because they are depicted as relating history, not folklore, but I think they serve a similar purpose in their fancifulness and mostly not direct applicability to adventuring), but I haven't really done much of that in other settings.

I feel like little details like this both make places feel more real, but also potentially provide springboards for adventure because in fantasy worlds, even the strangest details might well be true. I suppose some people might think this sort of thing is excessive or maybe even unhelpful because it might confuse player's about what's true and what isn't, but I would argue a ruthless economy of setting details, limiting them to only things relevant to adventuring/dungeoncrawling and the need for every one of those details to be literally true or at least definitively falsifiable loses an aspect that differentiates rpgs from other sorts of games, that is, the ability to truly explore an imagined world.

24 Hours in Ancient China

I've recently been listening to the audiobook of 24 Hours in Ancient China: A Day in the Life of the People Who Lived There by Yijie Zhuang, part of the 24 Hours in Ancient History series that includes volumes of Rome, Athens, and Egypt by various authors. The conceit of the series is that in a succession of vignettes about various characters over a 24-hour period, something of the daily life of the time and place is revealed. 

In this volume, the time and place is 17 CE, the fourth year of the reign of the usurper Wang Mang, which the book refers to as the Western Han dynasty, but Wikipedia frames as the brief Xin dynasty. In the space of 24 hrs we meet craftsmen and criminals, labors and scholars. Each vignette drops us into mundane drama of regular life--often which ends unresolved because the purpose of the series is instructive. Still, it's a conceit that delivers the information in a more entertaining way than a textbook approach would have.

Of particular interest to gamers might be the nocturnal larceny of the gang of tomb robbers led by a self-styled knight errant (youxia), the trials of the minor official maintaining a small, frontier fort in a time of increased Hun raids, the criminals being marched to a work camp, or former Imperial concubine exiled to superintend her Emperor's mausoleum.

It's a fascinating read. If the other volumes in the series are as good as this one, then I look forward to checking them out as well.

A Pantheon from a Picture

The above illustration by Enrique Alcatena, Argentine comic book artist extraordinaire, inspired me to create a group of deities. 

Werdagda, Dying-and-Rising, Green God of Growing Things.

• His rites are performed in sacred groves and in fields at planting and harvest
• Bees and other pollinators are considered his messengers
• Scarecrows are often made in his image
• Both wine and hallucinogenic mushrooms are used in his ceremonies

Ulumé, Lord of the Cycles of the Heavens and Fate.

• He has a dedicated priesthood of astrologer-priests who inform the community of the most auspicious time for various actives. 
• Groups of ascetic sages contemplate his mysteries and are often considered mad and touched by divinity.
• There are few rituals dedicated to him directly, but he is invoked in the beginning of most rituals to other gods and always the first and last god praised of a year.

Onorgul, Judge of the Dead

• He is depicted with the head of an onager, a beast associated with the desert wastes, and the barren, gray plains of the afterlife. By tradition, the dead are carried to their resting place on the back of a kunga.
• A braying of a donkey at night is considered an ill-omen because of its association with the god
• In the courts of the Underworld, he weighs the souls of the dead and adds those of sinners to the folds of his Hell Robe.

Tlasheeng, Lady of Beauty, Vanity, Glory and Vainglory

• Called Pavonina, for her garments of peacock feathers; peafowl are holy to her.
• Green eyes are taken as a sign of her favor.
• She is called upon by those who wish the other gods to see their deeds.
• Her festival in Midsummer called for the wearing of colorful, extravagant costumes, making extravagant boasts, and the attendance of masked revels.

Hernarl, Horned Lord of Beasts

• Guide of the hunter, but also a god to be propitiated when a kill is made.
• Acknowledged at trail-side shrines center around phallic pillars or stones
• Gives blessings in the forms of large herds, plentiful game, and healthy children
• The tolling of his bell pronounces a person's doom.
• As The Howler he is worshipped by a mystery cult in wild dances and acts of ecstatic frenzy.

Postcards from the Flanaess

 In thinking about Greyhawk for my recent posts, I've been inspired by Anna Meyer's great maps. Particularly her climate map which has challenged me to consider locations in the context of not just their historical European cultural inspirations, but their often not-European climate.

Ket

I didn't mention it in my post on Ket, but Meyer places it in the Dfa (humid continental) region which would make it like much of the American Midwest, perhaps Nebraska as pictured above.

Perrenland

Greyhawk's Switzerland Meyer puts in the Bsk (cold, semi-arid) Köppen climate region. Something like Denver or Boulder CO would be similar.

Lordship of the Isles

On Meyer's map, these islands fall into the Cfa (humid subtropical) region like the American Southeast or Bermuda. Given that they are in the tropics, though, I wonder if they might be better represented by Cuba or the Florida Keys and be mostly tropical savanna (Aw)

Keoland

Though the U1 describes the area of Saltmarsh being like the coast of Southern England, its location would put it in a climate region Af (tropical rainforest). 

In Translation

Constructed languages, at least for naming, are a big part of fantasy literature. Evocative coinings like Minas Tirith, Lankhmar, Aes Sedai, An-Athair, Khaleesi, Tharagavverug, and sranc are an important part of the enjoyment.

In fantasy rpgs, however, even constructed naming languages can be tough for some players. Not only can names like Hrü'ü be hard for some to pronounce, but a number npcs with difficult/unfamiliar names may be difficult for players to keep straight or remember at all and so keep those players from fully engaging with the imagined world.

Tolkien, bitten though he was by the conlanging bug, offers a solution: translation.

We all know, of course, that we must imagine translation as having occurred so that we can read books and play characters in rpgs in our native languages and not in whatever language exists in the setting. Tolkien, unlike most authors, doesn't just leave this to necessary convention. He tells us that the book he ostensibly got the story of LotR from was in Westron and that the names of the Hobbits Bilbo Baggins and Peregrine "Pippin" Took (for example), are translations/localizations of Bilba Labingi and Razanur "Razar" Tûc, respectively.

Those nice details aside, Tolkien goes a step further. Other imaginary languages in his work beyond Westron get rendered as different, real languages: Rohirric, the language of Rohan gets translated into Old English, and names in the tongue of Dale and that of the dwarves get translated into Old Norse. This allows him to retain the "foreignness" of those other tongues from the perspective of Westron which has become mostly invisible since it's rendered as Modern English.

But he's not done there! Tolkien often chooses languages to "translate" into that retain the essence of the imagined linguistic relationship between his fictional languages. For instance, the names of the ancient kings of  Rhovanion are rendered in Gothic, preserving in Gothic's relationship to Old English something of the relationship of the tongue of ancient kings to Rohirric and Westron. This graph from Wikipedia shows it:

Chiswick Chap

I think this approach is a natural fit for rpgs. True, any use non-Modern English (or whatever the native language of your group is) might present difficulty for some players, but I think "coding" the use of unfamiliar languages to only certain groups both aids the memory and decreases the total number of unfamiliar things to remember. If Elvish names are translated as French (or Farsi, or whatever you like), well maybe the player still can't remember a particular elf's name, but they stand a better chance of recognizing names as Elvish.

There was a Dragon article back in the 80s that sort of hit upon this. The author suggested using a mix of Old and Middle English to represent the ancestor of Common. In my Azurth campaign, I have high elves speak in sort of the cod-Shakespearean manner of Marvel Comics' Thor to represent how their long lives left them behind current language changes.

The Fruitful Inconsistency of the Hyborian Age

The Encyclopedia of Fantasy (1997) describes Howard's Hyborian Age and similar imagined worlds as "fantasylands" in contrast to the more serious, Tolkienian worldbuilding of "secondary worlds." This perhaps undercuts the quite serious world-building Howard did in places like his "Hyborian Age" essay but also obscures the fact that all world-builders (Tolkien included) borrow or are at least derive inspiration from history or other works of literature.

Still, it's hard to deny that the Hyborian Age tends to wear its undiluted influences or antecedents proudly. Perhaps not as totally as say D&D's Known World or some other rpg settings, but to a greater degree than Middle Earth or most other literary fantasy settings. I can't be too critical of these game settings as it allows people to get a handle on different lands or cultures quickly, but it does strain suspension of disbelief for some folks.

The Hyborian Age does those similar gaming settings one better, however. In what I think was possibly Howard's best world-building idea (at least so far as things to steal for gaming), the overall action and theme of regions come through, even when his cultural inspirations are less clear. Visiting different Hyborian lands may not just mean travel through history with Fantasy Vikings here and a Fantasy American Frontier there but travel through different subgenres or modes of pulp/adventure fiction.

In his Conan yarns he gives us Golden Age of Piracy adventure stories, tales of the Crusaders and the Outremer, Frontier stories in the vein of the Leatherstocking Tales, and a few stories recognizable as just fantasy in today's genre standards. He does this often by dispensing with a lot of the historical things that led to these settings and situations and just gets down to the action readers (and presumably players) are looking for.

Vague or passing homologies are all he seems to need to get going. He doesn't worry about establishing a Christendom or an Islamic World--or even really a Holy Land to get his Outremerish setting. He handwaves some former colonies (now independent) of Koth (which is vaguely Italic maybe, but hardly Imperial Roman and with a capital whose name is borrowed from the Hittites) on a borderland coveted by Turan, and he just describes the players, setting, and action in a way that the vibe of crusades and Crusader Kingdoms comes through, regardless of the background differences.

Likewise, "The Black Stranger" deals with pirates and a treasure, sure, but to drive home we are now in Treasure Island territory, he dresses Conan for the part:

The stranger was as tall as either of the freebooters, and more powerfully built than either, yet for all his size he moved with pantherish suppleness in his high, flaring-topped boots. His thighs were cased in close-fitting breeches of white silk, his wide-skirted sky-blue coat open to reveal an open-necked white silken shirt beneath, and the scarlet sash that girdled his waist. There were silver acorn-shaped buttons on the coat, and it was adorned with gilt-worked cuffs and pocket-flaps, and a satin collar. A lacquered hat completed a costume obsolete by nearly a hundred years. A heavy cutlass hung at the wearer's hip.

Does this undermine the essential Medieval character of the Hyborian Age? Probably! Does it weaken one's ability to think of it as a sustained and complete world? Could be! Does it make it clear "we're now on the Pirates of Caribbean ride, behave accordingly?" Yep!

I feel like this tool can be put to good use by GMs. Even ones that are more interested in setting consistency perhaps than Howard. Even small details can do a lot.

Classic D&D Adventures in Real World Settings

 Lately I've been thinking about how well some classic adventures might adapted to real world settings. By real world, I mean historical fantasy--I'm not thinking of throwing out magic. Some monsters or at least, their abundance might be sacrificed, though. Harryhausen fil-esque beasts would be fine; tribes of orcs or goblins would likely be reskinned.

There are, of course, a number of dungeoncrawls which could take place pretty much anywhere with a little work. Here are a few that I recall with more distinct locations:

The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh: Given that we're told the setting of this one is meant to evoke a south-coast English town, the obvious placement for me (inspired by Captain Clegg) would be the set on the southeast coast of England in the area of Romney Marsh. Of course, that's not the only option. The Low Country would work, too. The significant presence of lizard men in the area might need to be reskinned as something else, but maybe having this have to do with Deep Ones off the coast would work?

Beyond the Crystal Cave: This one reminds me of The Tempest (though it's probably the similarity of the name Porpherio to Prospero and the island location that does that) so I would place it on Prospero's Island in the Mediterranean, which could be Pantelleria as some have suggested or a completely fictional Mediterranean isle.

Aerie of the Slave Lords: My initial thought on this one was the Barbary Pirates, but that name is usual reserve for pirates that are a bit later era than might be the sweet spot. Fortunately (in this context only!), slave trading in the Mediterranean was quite common in the Middle Ages. You don't have to go to an "evil" nation like a Pomarj, you just have to go to Venice.  Some Mediterranean port could be a stand-in for Highport, and a fictional mediterranean volcanic island in the Companian volcanic arc would be the sight of the slaver's secret base.

Anyway, you get the idea. 

Single Axis Outer Planes

There are a lot of very reasonable criticisms regarding the Gygaxian Great Wheel of Outer Planes, though I also like a lot about it. I've spent a fair number of posts on this blog trying to make it truly it some sort of coherent set of competing paradigms as Planescape promises but doesn't really deliver.

This post, I want to go in another direction entirely and see if the Outer Planes can be configured in such a way as to have a bit more Medieval flavor, a possible monotheistic bend, and potentially mostly be about the afterlife.

Take a look at the cosmology presented in the works of Dante:

Dante (like OD&D) imagines an order where what in latter day D&D terms we would call Lawful Good. So the Empyrean, the realm outside the cosmos where the Godhead or whatever supreme principle of goodness resides is the equivalent of the Seven Heavens of Mount Celestia in the Great Wheel.

"Beneath" that we enter the cosm and the spheres of the heavens. Here mystical cosmology mixes with physical cosmology and we have the Aristotlean celestial spheres of the classic planets. Dante makes of them "not-quite-good-enough heavens, and I would too, but with a twist. These would be the afterlives or mystic realms of "pagan" deities (using the term here to mean deities other than our Supreme Godhead mention above). Something similar to how the cosmology of the Sandman comics series works or Jurgen by James Branch Cabell, but more systematized as Gary would have wanted it. I would probably nix specific alignments in this sort of setup, focusing on interesting themes and correspondences.

Frank C. Papé

Above the planets is the sphere of the Primum Mobile or Prime Mover. This will be the mindless demiurge or ghost in the machine that makes the physical and near physical universe run. This is Mechanus of the Great Wheel.

 

Arriving at the Earth, we find Elysium/Elysian Fields, the Terrestrial Paradise. It can be found by the living, but it's difficult. Beneath the Earth is the gloomy, gray realm of Hades. 

In the caverns beneath Hades we begin to slip into the realm of truly evil souls, places where monsters have been cast down. There realms are probably all tied to a Deadly Sin. No doubt there are several infernal realms before we get to Hell (represented the sin of Pride) proper, where the rebellious angels have built their resentful kingdom in exile.

Immediately beneath Hell would be Tartarus, where the Godhead has locked up frightening beings. Rival gods? The mistakes of former creation? Who knows?

Beneath Tartarus is the Abyss. The deep waters mentioned in Genesis, though this may not literally be water but some fluid. Liquid Tiamat (from Babylonian myth, not the the Dungeon & Dragons cartoon). Malign chaos incarnate.

Robert Crumb

Appendix M: A Weird Medieval Fantasy Reading List

 And the M is for "Medieval." I've read some dark and/or weird fantasy set in the Middle Ages of late, and I figured I'd put them together in a list with some complimentary works for those that might be interested.

12th Century:

Mitchell Lüthi. Pilgrim: A Medieval Horror. A German Knight and his companions agree to smuggle a Holy relic out of Jerusalem for the Pope but wind up transported somewhere else by a gigantic sandstorm and confronting cosmic horror.

Clark Ashton Smith. “The Maker of Gargoyles" (In 1138, gargoyles come to life and terrorize the city of Vyones), “The Holiness of Azédarac” (a priest travels through time from 1175; in the future he discovers a sorcerer as managed to get declared a saint). 

13th Century:

Clark Ashton Smith. "The Colossus of Ylourgne." In 1281, a necromancer and his disciples take revenge on Vyones with an undead giant. 

14th Century:

Christopher Buehlman. Between Two Fires. In 1348, as the Black Death ravages France, a disgraced knight and a young girl may be the ones who can keep Lucifer and his legions from bringing about Hell on Earth.

Jesse Bullington. The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart. In 1364, A pair of German brothers from a long line of graverobbers embark on quest to make their fortune looting the crypts of Egypt. They encounter monsters, magic, and madmen along the way.

Clark Ashton Smith. “The Beast of Averoigne.”  In the summer of 1369, a comet heralds the arrival of a strange beast to ravage the lands around the Abbey of Périgon.

15th Century:

Jesse Bullington. The Folly of the World. In the aftermath of the St. Elizabeth's Flood, three conspire to take a treasure from a town beneath the water. 

L. Sprague de Camp: Most Gygaxian Fantasy Writer?

I don't know Gary Gygax's preferences in regard to authors of fantasy fiction, but I feel pretty strongly that L. Sprague de Camp (1907-2000) is the closet in sensibility to Gygax himself, at least in the earlier days of D&D. 

De Camp makes several appearances in Appendix N. I haven't read all of these works, but the ones I have read demonstrate some characteristics I get from Gygax's worldbuilding and from his early fiction that I have seen. There is some content similarity (like universe-hopping, crossovers with the works of other authors, and hierarchical planes of existence), sure, but what I'm mainly thinking of is more of a structural or attitudinal alignment. 

For one thing, I think it's fair to say that Gygax's work shows a concern with realism and degree of pedantry around certainly topics: Extensive list of polearms, obscure terminology, etc. De Camp gives us an extensive exegesis of REH's naming in the Conan stories and also an analysis of the same stories' technology. He wrote a series of Sword & Planet stories (the Krishna series) that makes a point of addressing the unrealistic elements of Burroughs' and others' similar stories.

It seems to me there was a logic to Gygax's D&D work. I'm sure this is in part due to it being in a game where you have to be prepared for player action, but it resembles the application of rational consideration of elements in fiction as in the Harold Shea stories or The Carnelian Cube.

Both men also have a fondness for humor in their fantasy. While this isn't an uncommon trait and is found in the work of a number of Appendix N or adjacent authors, I feel like use of anachronism for humorous purpose is something found in Gygax's work that also occurs in the Harold Shea series. Less than totally heroic or unheroic protagonists (often the humorous effect) probably describes a lot of D&D, but also several of de Camp's Krishna novels and his Reluctant King trilogy.

As to Gygax's later work, I've only read a couple of the Gord novels and that was decades ago, but I don't recall them being particularly de Campian. Maybe his sensibilities shifted over time or perhaps they reflect a desire to better compete in the fantasy market that existed in the mid-80s. Still, I think on balance, the similarities are there.

Early Modern Magic

I read some interesting stuff this week on magical belief in the early modern era. Specifically, magic used for protection from weapons, surely a common interest of soldiers of the era and D&D adventures alike.

A Historical Fencer's Primer on Late Medieval and Early Modern Magic

From the German Wikipedia, the concept of "Gefrorner" which meant to be invulnerable to harm.

And finally, a scholarly article: "Invincible blades and invulnerable bodies: weapons magic in early-modern Germany" from the European Review of History.

80s Action Cartoons Were Very Gameable

I'm not just talking about the usual suspects like Thundarr the Barbarian or The Pirates of Darkwater; or ones that already have games like G.I. Joe, Transformers, or of course, Dungeons & Dragons. Even the deeper cuts are great too. Let's take a look at a sampling and the gaming inspiration they provide.

Sky Commanders (1987)

If you're a fan of hexcrawls or even pointcrawls, could I interest you in high elevation, feature-to-feature exploration? The premise is a new continent has arisen in the Pacific thanks to some weird energy source, and a multi-national group of mountaineering-specialist good-guys fight the baddies via flight, or by using "laser cables," a fancy rappelling line shot from combat backpacks. There are all sorts of environmental hazards to contend with too, and some monsters.

Spiral Zone (1987)

The high concept takeaway here might be G.I. Joe meets the Walking Dead. In the show, an evil scientist and his Road Warrior refugee have released a weird, bioactive mist (the Spiral Zone) that turns the people in it into mindless zombies. A crack team of agents and their tricked-out vehicles and protective suits do battle with the badguys. A twist is that both sides want to limit civilian casualties as the bad guys want to use them, and the good guys want to save them. 

Defenders of the Earth (1986)

While this team-up of several King Features Syndicate characters against Ming the Merciless might seem like a low-powered supers thing (and in some ways it is), the takeaway here, I think, is genre crossover. You've got a sword & planet guy, a pulp hero (or two), and a wizard who get together to take out a villain.

The Pulp Team

As with several genres adapted to rpgs, pulp gaming presents a little bit of a problem going from the inspirational fiction to the gaming table in that pulp fiction/movies/comics tend to be about solo heroes or a primary hero and sidekicks but rpgs tend to be about a group of equals. It's perhaps reasonable to play Indy plus Short Round and Sallah or even Doc Savage plus his Fabulous Five for one story arc, but it might not be as desirable for a long campaign.

On the other hand, a group composed of Indiana Jones, Jake Cutter (from Tales of the Gold Monkey), and Sam Spade may be fine for some, but seems to be less satisfying to me for a long-term campaign, because the characters don't see cohesive. 

The solution seems to me to build a group wherein the characters are roughly equal, but each has their own specialty, and they have the same theme/subgenre. Sort of like if the Fabulous Five didn't have a Doc Savage to outshine them. There are really more examples of this in comics rather than the pulps (though that may just be my knowledge of the pulps is less). Check out the Challengers of the Unknown:

Having the same subgenre is important for keeping power levels similar. Having the same sort of theme is important for helping support their reason for staying together as a group. Of course, both of these can be stretched a bit. 

Sometimes teams are brought together or forced to stay together by an outside force. DC Comics' The Secret Six and Suicide Squad (either the Silver Age nonsupers version or the later supers versions) are examples of this, but so is the more eccentrically charactered League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. For that matter, the Avengers, particularly in the Ultimate Universe and the CMU start out like this too.

Magic Like This

 I'd like to see a traditional fantasy rpg with magic like this:

Podmore picked up his fork and stood it on its end. Snaith stood, stepped over to the shelf behind Arthur’s head, and picked up a sharp knife. Moving by instinct, Arthur reached out and knocked over Snaith’s wine-glass. Snaith slipped on spilled borscht. He lay on his back looking confused, as if he had no idea what had just happened or why he’d stood up in the first place...

...Arthur said, “George—I’m sorry.” 

He snapped the stem of his wineglass, causing the leg of George’s chair to snap so that he fell on the floor and hit his head on the chair behind him. The dowager dame who’d been sitting in that chair gave a little shriek, then got to her feet and left, taking her party with her. A couple of waiters quickly came and led George off, bleeding from the head, in search of first aid. 

- Felix Gilman, The Revolutions

And this:

Her bedroom was still dark when Sadie woke up and there was a lump in her throat. She turned her head and coughed, and spat a stone into her hand. It was the size of her thumbnail, chalky white and light as a feather. Its dimpled surface was covered all around with tiny holes, and when she held it up to her ear she could hear wind in the treetops of a faraway forest.

She mixed a resin and coated the stone several times, until it was as hard and shiny as a nut, then took it outside where the morning sky had begun to turn pink along the horizon. She set the stone in the middle of the long trail that ran south from her house, through ruined cornfields and over the Arkansas River.

She left the stone there and went inside, laid back down in her bed and went to sleep.

- Alex Grecian, Red Rabbit

The last quote is the beginning of a sequence of events wherein the "stone" is picked up by a squirrel which is in turn carried away by a hawk, dropped and eaten by a fox, which is in turn killed and eaten by the man the stone is a message for. He chips a tooth on it before realizing what it is, putting it up to his ear, and hearing the witch's message.

In both of these works, magic isn't visually fantastic or flashy. Not at all like super-powers. But it is nonetheless powerful and mostly quick without a lot of ceremony. I suspect there are modern/occult rpgs with magic like this, but I'm unaware of any traditional, Medievalish fantasy with it, but I'd like to see it.

Weird Revisited: Untrue North

My recent trip to Alaska brought to mind this old post from 2011...

An arctic of only (melting) ice is sort of boring, don’t you think? At least in comparison to the flights of Age of Exploration fancy. Why settle for mere ice when you could have a magnetic Black Rock, a swirling whirlpool, and islands of pygmies? Check out this 1595 map:

Gerard Mercator based his maps and his descriptions (in a letter to John Dee in 1577) off older works. He describes a landmass divided into four lands by channels through which water rushed into the whirlpool surrounding the Pole, and "descends into the earth just as if one were pouring it through a filter funnel.” This unusual geography supposedly led to the deaths of 4,000 men from the expedition King Arthur sent to the island, according to Mercator's report. The ultimate source of this version of pole is believed to be the account in the Inventio Fortunata, a 14th Century work which is unfortunately lost.

At the pole itself, in the center of the maelstrom, was a giant, black mountain, Rupes Nigra--the Black Rock or Black Precipice. Mercator writes: “Its circumference is almost 33 French miles, and it is all of magnetic stone. And is as high as the clouds...” Its magnetism was said draw ships made with iron nails to their doom.

A really interesting adventuring site, I think.