Let Slip The Dogs Of War (Part II)

In which I continue to describe the games I ran at Cauldron 2025, spoiling secrets and providing insights into the mind of a geezer DM...

SATURDAY NIGHT BLOCK: Ship Of Fate

The rousing success of Caul’s Dark Citadel…as well as the final three runnings of the tourney module in Saturday Block II...led to dinner being a boisterous affair, especially at my table. Everyone at Cauldron was in a fine mood and, plied with copious amount of alcohol, a lot of money ended up being shucked out at the auction, with much backslapping, congratulating, and toasting of each other.

A lot of palinka. A lot of whisky.

Thus the set-up for the so-called “night block:” a 9pm to WHENEVER affair (no time limit). At Cauldron 2023 I had skipped this (to my later chagrin), instead unwinding and bantering a bit before calling it an early night. THIS year, I had originally left the slot open hoping to get into one of Prince’s epic night-festivals…and then he decided not to run a game in the block! “Sorry, man, there are games I want to play in,” is he wrote to me last month.

SO determined not to miss out, I decided I would be the one to fire up a big-ass, high level adventure into the wee hours. Enter Ship of Fate, a high level extravaganza I wrote for Prince’s NAP II contest (get it HERE if you like).

Ship of Fate is quite obviously inspired by (and heavily based on) Michael Moorcock’s Elric story Sailor on the Sea of Fate. If you haven’t read it…um, why not? Elric stories are pretty much required reading for high level AD&D play, especially Elric of Melnibone, Sailor, and Stormbringer. But, yeah, I know some people think D&D is supposed to top out around 7th level. *sigh*

Good read.

I digress…Ship of Fate is an adventure designed to be played by from four to 16 players, four of whom take the part of high-level lady and gents (the “Heroes”) and 12 of whom are mid (7th – 10th) level “Companions.” The idea being that each Hero has three Companions. The kicker is that all 16 of these characters were once actual player characters, played either by myself of by my friends…however, I’ll note that – with regard to the high-level guys – they’ve been considerably “toned down” from their original stature and abilities. *AHEM*

I have only had the chance to run Ship of Fate one time…for my home group…and we did not finish more than five or six encounters due to an abbreviated session. Alas, we never returned to it because, being a one-off with pre-gens, it held a lot less “spice” for us than using our regular, organically grown PCs; such is life in a living campaign. Because of this, I wasn’t exactly sure how the adventure would play out. Certainly it was much too big for a standard 4-hour time slot. But we were in NIGHT BLOCK, baby! There aren’t any rules! Go all night like when we were 14 and high on caffeinated drinks!

[it’s possible I was a little drunky when I decided to register this game, pre-Cauldron] 

So, unsure of how I was even going to seat 16 people around the table I’d been assigned, I found myself somewhat relieved when “only” nine people showed up to the game. And then while handing around the pre-gens I immediately lost one of the four “Heroes” (the 12th level fighter)…noooo!

[I might have been a little drunky…again]

Fortunately, Tom still had his 14th level fighter pre-gen from Settembrini’s earlier high-level game. I knocked two levels off, reduced the hit points to a reasonable amount (they were set something like 2 points below max), and axed a magic item or two, but most of the character was allowed to stay.

And we were off!  Just organizing such a group was a bit of an ordeal, but it wasn’t too long before they got it together and decided to send the thief into the first cavern and…

Oh, wait…what’s the point of the adventure?

So, in Ship of Fate the heroes are sailed across the Dunkle Zee…a kind of phantom ocean that connects the various planes of the multiverse…to an island nexus where two sibling wizards (brother and sister) are using a rift in the space-time fabric to drain power from all the planes in existence, gradually snuffing them out. Players are supposed to find the building at the center of the island, kill the wizards, and then fire the building using special magic firebrands designed for the purpose. The ship has a cargo hold full of gold for the players after success in their quest and the wizards themselves are likely to have treasure, too. However, they also have many minions and protectors.

SO…big ass building (like the length of three football fields). Players did spend a flare trying to burn the place down with the wizards in it, but the structure…a monstrous, twisted behemoth that looked something like an amalgamation of alien machine and melted giant humanoids…simply extinguished the flame itself. Which the players had been told it would do which is why they needed kill the wizards FIRST. Amateurs.

A couple entrances suggested themselves to the PCs…a large cave, overhung by vines OR a large stairway leading up. They sent the thief down into the cave where he was soon filled by needles from the needleman forest inhabiting the cavern. Retreating, the party had the wizard nuke the plants with a fireball before proceeding. Into the troglodyte caves.

Those proved nightmarish to try to map, let alone explore in a coherent fashion [it’s possible the players were a little drunky] and the group eventually decided to give it up and go up the grand staircase to the “main gate” (as they called it). At this point, James (the guy playing the 12th level cleric) gets a brilliant idea: “Why don’t I use a find the path spell to locate the wizards?” Can’t…the spell can’t target living beings.

“What about the nexus rift? We know it’s there…and the wizards are likely to be with it!” That seemed reasonable and the spell immediately starts pulling the cleric (who leads the party) the way of the shortest route to the object desired.

Which worked pretty well for a while, as it ignored or helped bypass several encounters, while revealing secret doors and hidden passages. Great stuff; great use of available resources! Plus, it lasted a good long time (12 turns!) meaning they were covering a LOT of ground. No sweat, guys, we got this!

Then it led them through the cavern of the shadow demons.

Mean.

Now, I'd guess there are a lot of us for whom the phrase "shadow demon" conjures to mind the little toadie/spy who follows Venger around the D&D cartoon like a whipped dog. Yeah, no. Shadow demons are highly intelligent, vicious 7+ hit die creatures that are 90% undetectable and can leap and claw and tear at opponents while also having the abilities to dowse lights (darkness 15' radius), cast fear, and magic jar opponents. In this particular instance (not a mandatory encounter, by the way...just the shortest path to the wizards!), it turned into a nightmare scenario for the PCs. Their lights were dowsed, and then the attacks from the shadow demons ended up preventing casters from turning on the lights: every time they lost initiative...or won by too low an initiative amount....they'd get attacked and have their spells interrupted. Fighters were swinging away in darkness and hitting their companions. Two characters blew their saves against fear attacks and fled into the darkness, never to be seen again (one of those blundered into a room full of spectres and was sucked dry in the darkness; I think the other just went to bed). 

They eventually managed to overcome the demons, but it was a brutal toll: only three PCs (all Heroes) had survived. Sonka (now playing Tom's fighter, as he decided to go to bed), Ollie (as Lucky the 12th level magic-user), and James continued on, the find the path spell still functioning. They made it to the nexus chamber, but no wizard was present (50% chance, and missed the roll). However, some minor exploring found her in her workroom, toiling away at constructing flesh golems, with three completed. No surprise, everyone attacked!

Again...pretty brutal encounter. The cleric was felled by a fistful of magic missiles, the wizard badly damaged while the fighter tried to fight his way through flesh golems and mirror images. Tired of having his spells interrupted, the wizard backed off to use his scroll on monster summoning VI, conjuring a pair of weretigers...who did not appear for a couple rounds. Meanwhile, the fighter was stunned with a power word and the flesh golems proceeded to curb stomp him in a fashion unseen in Germany for four score years.

[too soon?]

However, Ollie/Lucky managed to hold on and the were-tigers finally showed up. Something happened to neutralize Giz-Kala (though that part is hazy...perhaps yet another hold person spell?) and the golems bereft of an order-giver allowed the much reduced party to escape, the fighter left with three hit points to his name. 

Deciding "stealth" was now the order of the day, the two utilized a potion of polymorph and a polymorph self spell to change into rodents, with which they finished their exploration of the main chamber, were-tigers in tow. They found the other wizard, laying in a comatose torpor of slumber, and slit his throat. "Now how the hell do we get out of here?!" Neither had been mapping.

It was decided to risk teleporting to the exterior, despite having only observed the island terrain once. Fortunately, Lucky was high enough level to take the beefy fighter with him. The die roll was successful and they fired the dungeon from outside, the flames quickly consuming the structure, and declaring victory, agreeing to split the gold between them. The time was after 2:30am, the players still standing thanked me, and headed off to bed, as I cleaned the table and turned off the lights of the floor (we were the last group still going).

I did not bother to reveal how much treasure they'd left behind.

*****

SUNDAY BLOCK I: Ybarra Florin

Our final session of Cauldron, the "brunch block" took place only after breakfast and the award ceremony had been completed. Some of us (*ahem*) had continued to drink into the wee hours of the morning, by which I mean 5:50am. Given one hour sleep to work with I was...not in great shape.

Thus it was a good thing I chosen an easy adventure to run! The original idea had been to run my I3: Pharaoh re-work, Desert of Kartha, but it's not anywhere close to being finished, let alone prepped and cut to fit a four hour time block (I would have been running the thing with a few sketchy notes). So, realizing my ass would be dragging at the end of a long three days, I decided to go with something I've run several times before: Ybarra Florin.

Again, this NOT really a "Becker original." Kenneth St. Andre penned a short adventure called Tower of Yrkath Florn for the first edition of his Stormbringer RPG. It's a nice little introductory scenario, one I've run two or three times over the decades I've owned the game. About three years ago, I converted it to AD&D; but it's mostly unchanged in terms of layout and premise. Mostly.

A wealthy patron hires the party to go check out the ruins of a dead Melnibonean sorcerer, and bring back any relics you find. Of course, "Melnibonean" in my campaign world means "high elf," all of whom seem to have a Spanish bent to them (hence, the name change. Don't ask me why...).

[I'm not even the first one to do "Spanish elves;" see Aaron Allston's Principalities of Glantri]

The ruined tower is two levels of a once three-story structure that's been wrecked by an earthquake...in my world it's on the Olympic Peninsula, right off Dabob Bay near Quilcene. The St. Andre version of the adventure has a family of clackars...winged gorilla creatures...lairing in the lower portion of the dungeon. But, of course, AD&D doesn't have this monster...

[other than in the 1980 DDG with the Melnibonean Mythos, page 88: they have HD 8, 2x 1d12 damage claws (+rending), immunity to fear and surprise, etc., etc.]

...so I didn't something else for my conversion. Now, when I say "fur, feces, and feathers," does anything D&Dish spring to mind immediately? Of course it does.

I ran this adventure when we were introducing Maceo's younger brother, Winston, to the AD&D game. Of course, he was ripped to shreds. Later, their family took them to see the new Dungeons & Dragons movie and Winnie told his mom, "That's the thing that killed me! An owl bear! See I told you they were scary!"

ANYway, they're scary for adults players, too. Our group (another eight stalwart souls) brought not one but TWO paladins to the adventure. The first paladin was killed by the pair of juveniles in the first room of the main hall. As the rest of the party maneuvered to lure the creatures out into a killing area, the Papa Bear came out of a different door to investigate the sounds of battle (and smell of blood) that had disturbed its slumber. Things got very dicey for the group very fast, despite having a ranger who kept negating the "completely surprised" rolls of the party (without the ranger, it could've got real ugly...)

However, give bulk of the credit to Ludwig the magic-user for saving the party's bacon. Ludwig's pre-gen had a wand of wonder and he wasn't afraid to use it, luckily getting decent results throughout the session! A stinking cloud and failed saves from the 'bears allowed the party to move outside the tear gas and missile the critters to death before they had a chance to clear their nasal passages...a pretty fortunate outcome, all things considered.  After slaying the mother 'bear (combining a slow spell from the wand along with an insect swarm from Paul the druid), the party claim to the family's nest of eggs and young, all worth a pretty penny on the open (elven) market.

Then it was up to the second level and Old Ybarra's workroom, hidden behind a magical door. The door is unlocked but electrically jolts individuals crossing its threshold for some pretty gnarly damage; fortunately, it was Michal the (last) paladin who took the blast, thereby rendering the thing inert. Inside lurks a demon...the same creature that killed Ybarra two centuries before when an earthquake cracked the pentagram that contained it. For AD&D purposes, I used a Type II demon, which is about the right power level, despite being vulnerable to normal (iron) weapons, thanks to an excellent armor class and magic resistance. Using it was nice (it's been a while since I've dropped any demons in an adventure) and I should probably use them more often. In the end, it was defeated without inflicting a single casualty (although it did force both the paladin and druid to flee the tower in terror with its cause fear ability)...and while in retrospect it probably should have caused more casualties through the liberal use of teleport and gate, I will not blame my lack of tactical badassery on "going soft." The fact of the matter is: I forgot about these abilities.

One hour of sleep, remember?

SO...an easy adventure to run and only a light challenge (in my opinion) for the players, thanks to a little good fortune and a heavily hung over DM. And that's okay...the con had been a looong three days (not counting the 5,000 miles of air travel), and I was happy with how the session wrapped up. I even took the time to calc out the experience and treasure take for all surviving party members...per their request. It wasn't a bad haul for the ADDKON characters.

[to be continued...]

Also mean...

Cauldron 2025

I have a feeling this is going to be a long one. But people don't come here for the Tl;DR version of things, do they?

; )

Cauldron III took place at Hofraithe Rosenthal this year...a switch in venue mainly made to accommodate more people. The con had 81 registered attendees, whereas prior years had been capped at 50...a more than 60% increase but it didn't feel particularly larger until you walked into a gaming room during the middle of a session (or if you were late getting to a meal and looking for a seat). Still, it felt more cozy than crowded...although some of my larger games got a little tight, space-wise.

And large my games were. Thinking about it just now (at the con, I never took the time to reflect on this) I'm fairly sure I've never DM'd for so many people (and so many DIFFERENT people) in my life. In fact I'm 100% sure of it.

We'll get to the games in a moment. The facilities were fine, though perhaps not as nice as the previous place (the bathroom for the room...which I shared with five other people...was a large step down, though it was fine, utility-wise), and there were some very large, very crowded queues when it came to signing up for some of the sessions. The "club rooms" which were used for gaming were, on the other hand, quite nice...not just serviceable, but atmospheric and comfortable.

So many stairs, though. So many. And I LIKE stairs (and I'm in good enough shape that it wasn't an issue, even carrying gear). But I imagine some folks had to huff and puff a bit...especially if they ended up in a 4th floor room (as I was). Still...a little exercise is good when you're spending so much of the day sitting on your ass and drinking beer.

Yes, again the beer was free, excellent, and plentiful (God bless Germany!) and even though I've been OFF beer since July or thereabouts, except for the mornings, I drank continuously throughout the con (as did many)...and as far as I could tell, we didn't make much of a dent in the stockpile of 22 ounce bottles. An upstairs kitchen, stationed strategically between the club rooms, seemed to have Bucknard's Everfull Beer Fridge...it was never empty. Great when you didn't want to go down a flight of stairs in the middle of a game.

As usual, the "unsung heroes"...the volunteers and family members of the Con organizers...were spectacular. Asked if there was any decaf coffee at breakfast Saturday morning (and getting a negative reply), I resigned myself to a cup of the regular stuff. However, it wasn't 10 minutes into my first gaming block of the day that a friendly con organizer showed up at my gaming table, unasked, with a French press of decaf specifically for me...they went out and found me decaf coffee! This little spectacle was repeated during Sunday morning's game block. Can you say "fantastic service and attention to detail?" Germany!

The surroundings, by the way, were quite beautiful. Fresh, crisp October air (no rain, just sunshine) made it a pleasure just to step outside and breathe and stretch. And the venue was picturesque in the way these small German towns tend to be (at least all the ones I've visited). Delightful.

Food...especially the crisped, roasted whole pig...was, as may be imagined, delicious, as were the sausages, the sauerkraut, the fresh veg (I must have ate a plate of bell peppers myself), the fresh daily bread. Water, both sparkling and still, was available at all times.

While I'm discussing food, I might as well get around to the drink...I mean, the REAL drink. Some engineer of clever bent had rigged up a small, portable fountain of wine that had a constant stream of wine or red liquor spurting from a goblin's nose...that was amazing. There were plenty of bottles of wine as well, for the non-beer drinkers. Many folks brought their own spirits (of course) and the hootch started to flow in earnest Saturday evening...just in time for the post-dinner live auction. Seated with the indomitable Magyar contingent, I was again fortified with many shots of their Hungarian palinka...however, this year I was able to return the favor with a bottle of cask-aged, 116 proof whisky from Orcas Island (bottle #62 of 78). An incredibly large bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey also joined the table (I assume a contribution from Irish companion and former Cauldron roommate, Lynchpin), and we really had the chance to double-down on the boozing. I know MY bottle was killed before the sun came up...though the last shot wasn't poured till after 3 in the morning.

Good times.

Back to the gaming: Cauldron 2025 had a total of 54 pre-registered games over six scheduled game blocks. Other games were played that didn't make the registry, of course, but I was a little busy to track those. No less than 26 different Dungeon Masters ran games of AD&D, OD&D, B/X, and various retroclones, but the majority of games (38 of the 54) were 1E. 17 different DMs...including myself...ran the King of Games.

And...wow.

Last time I went to Cauldron, I waxed enthusiastically about the joy of playing AD&D with people who know and love the game, who have travelled from all over to a convention specifically for the chance to participate in the game. I talked about how wonderful the FOCUS was, and how engaging it was to play with people who were focused on actual play of the game. 

Well, two years later, they've gotten better. 

Whereas Cauldron One had many players who were new to the game or who had never played 1E (and wanted to learn) or people who came from other RPG backgrounds (WotC-stuff, the "OSR," 2E and trad gaming, etc.), these folks were dialed in. They knew how to play and they'd COME to play. I'd lay out my 2-3 house rules and away we'd go and questions or pauses to provide for explanations/answers were few and far between. Just gaming...glorious gaming for hours at a time. 

My Blackrazor Cup tournament adventure was, again, one of the high points for many con goers, and THIS year I got to see what that looks like. Eight different DMs ran the adventure...most everyone who wanted to had a chance to participate. Top prize went to the group that managed to pull 390K in gold from the dungeon, but there was a pretty broad range of play with much death and hilarity (one group saw every single one of the ten tournament pre-gens killed). My own table, which included the infamous Prince of Nothing (we'll get to him) caused me to laugh so hard, so many times (at their expense) that I nearly fell out of my chair. Just gluttons for punishment. They ended up with 88K (second from the bottom in rankings), but they had a good time and I can honestly say they did a LOT better than either of the prior two groups I'd play-tested the adventure with.

[it is my suspicion that some of the DMs are a little more lenient than I am when it comes to their running of the game...and that's fine, I'm totally okay with that. But I think that might account for some (not all!) of the discrepancies in results]

Prince's own "mini-tournament" adventure, Assault on the Becker-Drome, was likewise a big hit and much hilarity was had over the three sessions of that. I did not have the chance to take part (and I didn't find out who won the prize he was offering...maybe the Sunday group?)...but he has promised to provide me with a PDF copy for my own entertainment. Can't wait.

The only game I actually played in was con-orgnizer (and Best DM of Cauldron 2024) Settembrini's Chainmail recreation of The Battle of Emridy Meadows. Greyhawk aficionados may recognize this as the original final battle between the forces of Good and those of the Temple of Elemental Evil. I, of course, chose to play on the Temple side and was graced with an evil high priest and a couple units of ogres. Unfortunately, Chainmail took place in the Friday Night block (the day of our arrival) and by that time (9pm) I'd already been up for some 36 hours. I lasted till midnight or so before I became in danger of (literally) collapsing with exhaustion. However, I will take some credit with the Temple's eventual (and non-canonical) triumph, as it was my priest's summoned fire elemental that eventually killed Prince Thrommel and routed the forces of Good...even if I wasn't there to see it.

[ha! and Dreadlord had been trying to convince me to take "bless" as my one spell. No way, man! Go big or go home!]

But that game...which featured four players versus three with Settembrini acting as referee...was the only game session I failed to get through. By Saturday (with a little more than six hours of sleep and plenty of good food in my belly) I was able to go the distance with my games...including my "mystery," Saturday Night block which didn't finish till after 4:30am and had, in the end, only three players at the table (only two of which had still-living PCs).

I will write a follow-up post with "after action" reports of the various games I ran. Suffice is to say they all went well, and it was a joy to see so many familiar faces (like Mike and Michal and Sönke and Ollie and Prince and Tom and the Hungarians) all sitting around my table, rolling dice, cursing their failures, celebrating their successes, and having a hell of a good time. I ran five games and had full tables every session. Well...except for that Saturday Night Block (I ran an adventure that accommodates up to 16, but only NINE showed up to play...).

I am told that the sign-up sheets for my games usually filled up fast.

However, I was NOT to be awarded with the prestigious Best DM of the tournament this year (although I tied for second place in the voting along with Philipp). Instead that went to the to the ever-energetic, Con-Meister General, Grützi. The man is a beast...he ran five sessions this year (as he did last year, too!), the only person other than myself to spend so much time in the Captain's Chair. A much-deserved win as he scored in 11 of 16 qualifying categories, as judged by his players (Philipp and I only scored in 10) and I have no qualms about him taking home the trophy...especially since Grutz and his buddy Alex were the ones who picked me up from the airport and drove me the 90 minutes to the convention!

Alex and Grutz were also kind enough to drive me to the hotel in Frankfurt where I am currently writing this post, while I slept in the back seat. As I mentioned, Saturday's Night Block went long...but my night went longer still as several of us stayed up, kabitzing and drinking into the early morning hours. Truth be told, I was trying to outlast Prince (the rapscallion!), but eventually pulled the trigger on going to bed  around 5:50am. I was walking back to the building where my bedroom was (at the top of four flights of stairs) as Settembrini's wife was crossing the other way to start the kitchen duties for breakfast. While I could have gone longer, I felt I had a responsibility to be awake for the players at my final game session of the morning.

[Prince, gosh darn it, didn't sleep till 7:30am made the breakfast call an hour later, AND ran his last game. But he's 20 years younger than me...]

SO...incredibly exhausted, and more than a little hungover, once the post-convention high had worn off, I was ready for a nap in the car, drowsing off to the soothing sounds of excited, German banter and Alex's quietly playing death metal.

What a blast.

It is hard to overstate how awesome this convention is. I mean, Dillon (a Canadian who goes by the online handle "Terrible Sorcery") best expressed it with his repeated exclamation of the phrase "Hell yeah!" in response to...well, pretty much everything. He apologized for his excited enthusiasm, but I think he was simply expressing the same emotion that ALL of us were feeling (with slight variations). Everything about Cauldron is worthy of such exclamation: the setting, the victuals, the gaming, the camaraderie. 

So many people brought their CHILDREN to the thing, older teens (boys and girls) who are playing the Old School games of their parents. I have already told Diego I will take him to the next one I attend (when he's 16/17), and I can see I'm not the only person who finds the con worthy of generational sharing. 

In fact, it was Settembrini's older son (who, if I remember correctly, was unable to attend Cauldron I due to illness) who won the "MVP" trophy of the tournament. That trophy happened to come with a good bottle of German gin, which the boy doesn't drink, and Settembrini kindly passed it off to me as he'd heard I'm a gin enthusiast (I am). It's one of many souvenirs I have filling my bag, including the "official Cauldron boardgame," designed and hand-crafted by the Nexus gaming club (or, at least, Settembrini's family). I haven't opened it yet...like the gin, it is carefully packed in my luggage...but I look forward to reading it. Hopefully the instructions are in English.

[though, of course, I have Google translate]

[***EDIT: I have been informed by the illustrious and award-winning Settembrini that it was actually his YOUNGER son, Valez, who won the MVP award. My bad!***]

This, I'm quite sure, is a poor review post. It's early in the morning, I've been up for a while, and I'm still a little loopy. I'm just gushing about this and that and every little thing that pops into my head in something very different from a coherent order of tale telling. But that's because I'm not really trying to "sell you" on Cauldron...I'm just trying to convey something of my experience here. I've been to gaming cons before Cauldron; I've been around friendly, happy gamers all bubbling about what a grand time they're having, socializing with like-minded folks about their particular jam...it's what I imagine most "themed" cons (comic cons, Lego cons, Sci-Fi cons) are like, as people can feel free to let their hair down and "nerd out" with each other.

But Cauldron IS different. Probably because it is such a smaller, more intimate affair, or perhaps because of the ever-present Setti family members, you feel very much like a part of this organization's family. These are brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, uncles and aunts. It's not just camaraderie and shared fandom (though that's there, too)...there's real and genuine love. Love for the games and love for each other and for each other's love of the game. It's not just about "acceptance" or being accepted: it is ACTIVE. People want to GIVE. They want to do for others, they want to share. Some people work out trades but there are many more gifts that are given. People volunteering to do chores: washing dishes, serving food, hauling beer (and crates of empties). One guy does all the grilling/roasting. People are giving each other books that they have extra copies of, people are given small tokens of appreciation, people want each other to have mementos and remembrances of their time here, together. Yes, it's fun, yes, it's a good time. But when I leave, it's not just walking out the door of a convention...I feel much the same as when I leave Montana after a stay with my relatives or after leaving my wife's family in Mexico after an extended visit. We linger. We hug (probably too many times). We talk about when we hope to see each other again.

That's very cool. Very cool indeed. One kid came up to me (today, as folks were packing to leave) and shyly asked me if I could teach him how to write adventures. "Of course!" I gave him an overview and told him to hit me up with a direct message so I could put it in writing for him. He seemed very grateful/appreciative...like I was doing him some huge favor to tell him "Moldvay's a good place to start."

Yeah, it's like family at Cauldron. I find myself asking how a person's doing with their new baby, or asking how's the married life treating a new groom. People ask me about my kids' soccer playoffs (because they read Ye Old Blog). People care. They were engaged with each other, both in and out of games. It was so refreshing to see and be around, because it's so unusual these days. So unusual. Especially with the crisp October air, it brought back memories to me of childhood Thanksgivings when my family would always return to Missoula, Montana...my mother's hometown...and spend many days with the extended family. Those were the best holidays of my life (probably why I love Thanksgiving) filled with food and drink and laughter and games. Very similar vibes.

Yeah, Cauldron may be becoming my new favorite holiday.

All right, that's enough for now. I'll be boarding a plane home to Seattle in a few hours and I'll have plenty of time to write more. But for now...rest and decompression.

En Español

As I wrote, I've been doing far less "D&Ding" of late. Probably doesn't help that the last game session I ran (April 5th, per my records) resulted in a Total Party Kill, including three PCs and at least as many henchmen and hangers on (I believe the total was eight, mostly seasoned characters). Damn harpies.

However, even though I haven't been playing D&D, it feels like I keep getting called upon to evangelize the Dungeons & Dragons game...especially concerning the way I play and the reasons inherent in...well, in doing what I do. Running into folks who I haven't seen or talked to in decades, the subject just continues to...strangely...come up. Some examples:

• One of my mom's best friends (and past supervisor or mine) ended up having an extensive conversation pertaining to the history of the game, detailing the entire history of the game its various editions and the state of the hobby. Her son-in-law is, apparently a rabid D&D fan who is teaching his own children (her grandkids) how to play.
• A woman who was one of my mother's oldest and most beloved friends (they were maids-of-honor at each others' weddings), told me how my authorship of D&D books has made me something of a minor celebrity (or at least "impressive figure of lore") in their family as her adult grandchildren are now big D&D fans, like their mother (whom I grew up with and introduced to the game...waaaay back in the day).
• A local attorney and old family friend who I contacted about my mom's will and testament (and for whom I used to run games: he was in my brother's class)...the first words out of his mouth were "Have they put you in the Dungeon Masters' Hall of Fame yet?" He had no idea I wrote a blog (or books) or was still gaming; he was just remembering the games of our youth. His own daughters, now in high school, play D&D, but it's a different game from what he remembers (duh) and after long discussion, there was some thought that I might run a game or two for his family to show them what it was like.
• Had lunch with my old college buddy, Joel, who I NEVER played D&D with (we were balls deep in the White Wolf back in the 90s), but who is now playing Pathfinder 2 on a weekly basis. Ended up having an incredible 3-4 hour discussion about the fantasy gaming hobby, its evolution the last 20 years, and why I'm playing AD&D these days (hint: it's not nostalgia). I think I might have even convinced him to come over to my side of the fence, though he's one of those types that stubbornly maintains it's all about the quality of GM, not system (and perhaps it is, but system certainly helps). At least he remembers my GMing in a positive light.

But here's the real kicker: the last week-and-a-half we've hosted some friends from Mexico in our home. These are very old, very beloved friends: the woman, Heidi, grew up with my wife (they were neighbors as kids) and both she and her husband, Carlos, hosted us in their apartment in Mexico City the first time I visited Mexico (in 1998). They were at our wedding (Heidi was maid-of-honor) and we've watched their kids grow up (their youngest is 21 or 22 now??!). We all get along quite famously, Carlos and I especially (he is fluent in English and we share a passion for beer, music, Star Wars, and American football), despite him being a couple years my senior.

However, I've never had a conversation with him about Dungeons & Dragons...until yesterday. Like, never ever. I think he knows I did the writing thing (??) but usually when we've hung out we've spent our time discussing family or sports or culture or food or beer (these days he is a master-brewer and owns/operates a good-sized micro-brewery in Mexico...one of the few). This trip we've spent a LOT of time talking about beer (he's been touring the local breweries) or the inconveniences of death (his father just died in December and he's faced many of the same estate issues as myself). I mean, he and I have plenty of non-gaming stuff to talk about: Carlos is one of those bright-eyed, intelligent folks who goes through life with curiosity and thoughtfulness and a mind open to discussion and dialogue.

But (perhaps prompted by my wife) yesterday he brought up that his niece "really wants to learn how to play Dungeons & Dragons" and wanted to know what I recommended. Hoo-boy...what a can of worms!

What followed was an attempt to explain one of the world's stranger concepts (RPGs) to our friends in some combination of English and Spanish with a constant barrage of interruptions (er...helpful interjections) from my wife and kids. The strangest bit might have been my non-gamer wife enthusing over how much fun (?!!) the game is and how they (Carlos and Heidi) should try playing as well. Diego even offered to have me run a game for them while they're here (thanks, kid) though my wife told them we could always do it on-line (???!!!) when they returned to Mexico.

[you have to understand that my wife is fairly obstinate in her refusal to play RPGs; and, yes, she's tried them on more than a couple occasions]

Of course, there exists some significant challenges with the lack of Spanish language clones for my preferred edition(s) of the game. Even native English speakers get lost in the complications of a game like D&D (forgetting, missing, or misunderstanding rules)...throwing an English copy of B/X or Labyrinth Lord at a native Spanish speaker (even one fluent in English) and telling them to learn the game and teach it to their friends unassisted is a tall order. Never mind something as convoluted as Gygax's 1st edition manuals.

SO, despite many misgivings, and out of an altruistic desire to be helpful (and an ambassador for the game) I did pick up a copy of the D&D Essentials box set en Español for my friends at the local game shop (let's hear it for WotC inclusivity!). I own a copy of the Kit Esencial (as it's labeled) myself...though in English...and it's not a terrible way to introduce some of the basic D&D concepts. I mean...

*sigh*

Okay, I'll be honest: It actually IS a terrible way to introduce D&D concepts, but it is also the easiest way to do so, when you're talking about young teenagers from a different culture needing concepts (like class and race and hit points, etc.) in their own language. For a game taking place primarily in the imagination and constructed almost entirely from words, it IS "esencial" that the instructions be conveyed in a readily comprehended idioma. 

And it reminds me again of my own failure to produce a Spanish language retroclone, something I started working on back in Paraguay. Español isn't MY native language, of course, and translation is hard enough without needing to translate fantasy concepts (how do you say "halfling?"). Even doing a SMALL clone (I was using the 40-some page Holmes Basic as a foundation text) is grueling, thankless work...especially when considering the unlikeliness that I'd ever use it myself. Why would I? I already own all the instructions I need in my own (native) language.

But...now...here I am, exactly where I feared back in Paraguay (when my kids were young and I was surrounded by a culture of non-English-speaking, non-gamers): in a situation where I want to teach the game, and without the instructional text to do so. And so I am giving my beautiful friends WotC box sets that feature dragon fights with dragons that have no treasure. NO TREASURE. Does a hoard-less dragon scream "D&D" to you? Does that say "fun adventure?"

*sigh* (again)

SO. I got my friends the box set to give to their niece, which should tide her over till I have something more useful to provide her (at least the thing comes with dice). And I also purchased a copy of the Spanish language PHB (5E) which I will use alongside my son's dust-gathering English copy to reverse engineer RPG concepts and vocabulary for a better (Spanish) basic set. Just something I've put off for too long, considering the culture that shares my life and household.

OH: And to all my Spanish-speaking (and, sure, Portuguese-speaking) readers...you know who you are!...if you have suggestions for already-existing retroclones of "old edition D&D" that you prefer, I'd love to hear about them. Thanks in advance.

; )

Blank Show

I am sorry...deeply, deeply sorry...that I have been unable to offer anything interesting, intelligent, or entertaining to read this week. I have two cars and both were in the shop this week (different days) while I waited. One child has been working on the "getting-back-to-school" procedure. The other child had soccer practices (with social distancing). It's been a long week and I just...haven't...had...the...opportunity...to...write.

Plus, the Blood Bowl stuff got put away. I was going to post some pix, use them to illustrate the updated rules, etc. But I wanted my dining room back. And so did the wife. And I just haven't had the time to do any "staging" for blog posts. Not with cooking duties, too (tonight it's baby back ribs...$3 a pound means I can do a feast for the family for under $20, including sides).

So, I'm sorry. I can't offer my own distraction from the s*** show that is the current state of our "election season." The current state of our world. It's f***ing depressing is what it is. I'M depressed. And life is pretty good (pork ribs! de-lish!).

I've got a few things planned...mostly stuff about demons and necromancers (I'm in that kind of a mood). But the kids have tomorrow off school so it might take me a while to get it written up and posted. 

What I can do is offer my personal martini recipe. Drinking it myself tonight, and it goes like this:

• 5 parts Bombay Saphire gin
• 1 part Martini&Rossi extra dry vermouth
• 3 "Spanish Queen" martini olives 
• Skewer olives and place in martini glass. Pour gin and vermouth into a shaker of ice (half full). Shake vigorously. Pour through strainer into glass (no ice!). 

I have large martini glasses (they were a Christmas gift from my mom last year), so I double up on the booze. The extra olive is for my wife. Anyway, it works...especially if the object is to deal with the blankshow. Best to get blankfaced.

To be perfectly blunt, at this point I don't think we need any more "debates" or "town hall meetings." If you haven't made up your mind about who to vote for, you haven't been paying attention the last four years. You either like what's going on or you're beyond tired of it. Can we just vote before Halloween? Jeez. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find something for my children to watch on TV. They were hoping the new season of The Mandalorian was dropping, but that's not till the 30th. 

Cheers, people.

The Weekly Rant

Just picking up where I left off...

Damn, I drink too much. It's a fact (I booze more than I need to, certainly more than I should), but so far it hasn't destroyed my life yet as it has with so many of my family members. I'm a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, I suppose, and I have the gift of being able to observe myself with an objective perspective, "bucking up" as necessary to keep my life on track. Still...an IPA with "lunch," a strong stout at my favorite game shop, and now I'm close to finishing off a bottle of white that I opened while cooking the kids dinner (fresh trout, pan fried, with a side of steamed green beans, the latter tossed in olive oil and salt...organic raspberries for dessert). The kids are in bed so I can "shnocker" myself as I blog.

But I realize it's not good.

I'm angry tonight, and it has nothing to do with my lot in life. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm blessed. My back even feels fine this week. Wife's out of town and kids are a little melancholy, but she'll be back in nine days...and then there's our plans to travel to Oaxaca over Spring break which, if memory serves, may have actually been MY idea (remarkable, because I'm the homebody who would rather stay in Seattle, waiting out the rainy winter). Sure I should be saving for my kids' college tuition, but why not enrich their life experience while Mexico is still affordable and we have some extra cash? My parents never paid a dime for my college tuition, and I still managed to muddle through Jesuit university and pay off the loans.

[that's one of the secrets of life, youngsters...it's actually fairly long and those giant bills DO eventually get paid, even though it might take a decade or two]

No, I'm not angry about my life (at least, I don't think I am; if it's a subconscious thing then shame on me). No, I'm angry about Dungeons & Dragons. Probably for stupid reasons (if being "angry about Dungeons & Dragons" wasn't stupid enough).

The kids and I drove out to the game shop tonight...not exactly local (it's in Edmonds), but certainly my favorite. D had received a Pokemon set for Christmas that he'd been wanting to exchange, and I was looking for a copy of the One Ring RPG, or the Adventures in Middle Earth game setting for 5E, both of which had been suggested to me by a Mr. T in the comments of my last post. I found the latter (both the "player guide" and the "loremaster handbook") and was fairly unimpressed...though they're nice books, they're fairly limited in scope, all things considered (I've spent a lot of the last couple days re-reading The Silmarillion, which I find simultaneously inspiring and disheartening).

Still, I was able to pick up a copy of the 4th Edition of Shadowrun (used) for ten bucks...not bad considering its $40+ hardcover price tag...which might just be the kick in the head I need to get back to Cry Dark Future (every time I see a new iteration of the game...and I realize it's on version five...I see how useful my game would be). So...definitely not a waste of time (in my opinion), making the drive to Edmonds.

Then...

As we were leaving...

Found some kids setting up for a game of 5E D&D.

"Kids," I say, but I did ask the DM her age and she claimed 24, and they all looked to be in the same ballpark. Three or four young women (I was wrestling coats onto small children at the time so my headcount might not have been accurate), ready to explore and adventure (I presume) in some...

Okay. Enough with the flowery prose.

Last week I was down at a different shop, solo, talking with an acquaintance who happens to have an "insider's view" of the workings of the industry. Let's call him "Bill" for the sake of protecting the innocent (just in case). The thing about Seattle is there are a LOT of industry (RPG industry) folks residing out here by dint of WotC's vicinity. Lots of Big Industry Names live out in this neck o the woods, even those NOT associated with WotC...and there's plenty of dirt to dig up, if one's into that kind of thing. Anyway...

I was talking to "Bill" about some o these idea I've been having lately: like how RPGs' greatest strength may be in what they offer "experientially" and how maybe the old fable of "good GMs making for good games" isn't so terribly far-fetched and that perhaps the thing we should be doing (and the thing we're failing at the most) is in teaching folks how to BE good GMs, and how the biggest names in the industry seem far less concerned with teaching new folks how to run games and far more concerned with making them dependent on sucking the corporate tit for adventure ideas.

And Bill did nothing to dispel my fears. There has been a (small to medium) resurgence in the game; more people are playing now than had been for...well, recently anyway (like, since the 80s). But the industry's response to a growing NEW fan base has been to harness technology, making "apps" that teach folks how to use the game. Because my question for Bill was: what the hell is the plan here when it comes to teaching new folks how to run games? You know what I mean: how do the publishers intend to create competent Dungeon Masters (or whatever the term is used with regard to Pathfinder, etc.). And their basic plan is: not to do so. The opposite, in fact.

Back to the kids at the game shop. After (politely, I think) interrupting them, I asked if they'd be willing to answer a few questions I had. They were (perhaps a little flustered, surprised) amiable enough. I asked how they'd learned to play D&D; they gestured to one of their group and said it was due to "her boyfriend." I asked who was acting as their DM. This particular evening it would be the same girl indicated, though they explained their campaign had co-DMs, the boyfriend being the other. I asked the DM her age (24) and asked her if 5E was her first edition of D&D? No, she'd started with 3.5.

Then I asked the young woman how she'd learned to DM. Slightly embarrassed, she explained she'd listened to a podcast (the name escapes me...I'm on my final glass of wine) about a father's game for his children. She said the "story arc" he'd described was so inspiring that she "really wanted to become a DM" to tell similar stories. She stated that she'd never DM'd in her earlier 3.5 edition experiences, but that 5E was so "streamlined" compared to 3.5, that it was "a lot easier."

I thanked them for their time and information and left. I have never wanted so much to punch an edition of Dungeons & Dragons in the face.

I find myself wanting to run a game of 5E just to rip its balls off. Really. Just to maim that motherfucker, pull pieces off it and show some young folks how stupid and insipid it is. I realize this is very tonto...very silly of me. That I am being an old curmudgeon, pissing all over the fun of people enjoying themselves (and, just for the record, I said nothing negative or untoward to these 5E players, now did I wax on about the "glories" of older editions or retro-clones or anything...I simply asked questions and listened to answers). BUT...

But...

Those girls, those young girls (adults, sure, but I'm not sure I felt fully "mature" till age 30)...they were, well, not quite embarrassed in demeanor, but certainly apologetic. Like they felt bad about their enjoyable pastime or the way in which they'd come to it. Not just the DM, but the players as well. Like the whole thing was contemptible.

Because we hold it in contempt.

In the United States of America the greatest, most popular, most beloved sport of our nation is American Football. More Americans watch the Super Bowl every year than any other television program (not just sporting event...any program). For the rest of the world, it might be the World Cup championship...but that's only every four years. The Super Bowl is dominant in my nation. and it's growing in prominence around the world.

But did you know that professional football in the United States was once held in contempt? That it was deemed sleazy and uncouth and a terrible "profession" for any right-minded, clean-living individual? That only the lowest of the low would stoop to playing for pay (or, presumably, paying to watch paid players)? In the early decades of the sport, only the college game was revered and worthy of being lauded...until such college players as "Red" Grange started deciding to go pro.

[this, just by the way, had nothing to do with being a paid athlete. Professional baseball players, wrestlers, and fighters...including fencers in Europe!...had been around for decades before individuals decided to "professionalize" American football, and those figures were held in esteem]

American football...yes, the NFL (for it had already acquired those initials by 1922) was held in contempt by the majority of Americans for decades, even by many of those whose home town fielded a professional team. Pro players worked side-jobs and lied about their gig, despite loving the game and giving their blood, sweat, and tears to it. Despite being broken upon the gridiron and carrying debilitating injuries into their later lives. They played for love of the game...and possibly because they were (or felt they were) unsuited to better forms of employment. I would imagine that some D&D players can draw an analogy there with regard to their creative expression.

[why don't I write a novel? or poetry? why do I draw dungeon labyrinths instead of seeking employment as an actual architect? etc.]

But while I can grok that role-playing may be held in contempt by the layperson who hasn't yet been exposed to the game, what I find myself increasingly unable to abide is the contempt in which the industry holds itself.

The NFL was grown and cultivated, developed and marketed, and within about 30 years had become, if not totally respectable, at least financially stable. By the end of the 1950s, it was well on its way to becoming the most popular sporting profession in the United States.

And where is role-playing after four and a half decades? Where is the careful cultivation of our industry's leaders? What is our projected destination for this thing we call (tabletop) gaming?

Thinking about those young players at the game shop stuffing money into the pockets of a company to play a game they find "easy and streamlined" (because their only exposure has been to 3E+), who learn how to run games through random internet podcasts (because they can't figure it out from the mammoth texts), who have a desire to play, but who haven't been given the understanding or information on how and why and what makes the game so damn good, instead being fed a diet of packaged "story lines" published by a faceless corporation who holds them in contempt (save for the buying power of their wallets)...

Well, it's enough to drive me back to the bottle.

This is not another shot fired in the "edition wars," by the way. It's not a rant against 5E or Pathfinder. This is a rant against the publishers: the Wizards of the Coast and Paizos and Hasbros of the world. The folks who control the largest marketing share of the industry and thus should be held accountable as industry leaders.  Perhaps they would tell me, "hey, we're just giving players what they want...they don't know how to play, and they are crying out for new, creative adventure paths and pre-made campaigns for exploration! And our fans are voting with their wallets, buying it, and so we will continue to give it to them."

To which I'd reply: you are giving them no other choice.

It makes me angry. It really, really does.

[side note: most of this rant was written last night while deep in my cups (in case you couldn't tell). I dozed off before I could finish writing it. Welp, this morning I'm awake, sober, and coffee'd up and my mood is still pretty fiery. Sorry to any I might have offended. I will be getting back to the Middle Earth thing pretty soon...today or tomorrow, I hope]

Just trying to capture my mood...

Soul Searching

I don't pray very often.

I just don't much anymore. Not because I don't believe in the power of prayer, but simply because I've gotten out of the habit of actually petitioning God for anything other than to do God's will. While I go to church more often these days than anytime since I was a child (I try to get my kids there every Sunday), and I do meditate and thank the good Lord for my many blessings and ask for aid to all the folks who need it, etc. there WAS a time when I could...and would...pray at the drop of a hat. For aid in all sorts of things. Things that, objectively, one might consider selfish. To do well on a test. To not get caught doing something I wasn't supposed to do. For the local team to win a big game. Things like that: the normal petitions of a young Catholic who believes in the intercession of the Trinity (and perhaps a saint or three).

I watch my son pray, and I find it amusing. He'll pray that he wins a hand of cards (we play a lot of cards in my house). Or that the Seahawks make a field goal. Or that we make it to [wherever] on time. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands and prays silently, unashamed of who may be watching. I admire him for it...even envy him a bit (I was never so demonstrative, nor...I think...so fervent, except perhaps when praying for God to save us all from nuclear war and Mount St. Helens). He prays with equal fervor for folks affected by hurricanes and earthquakes and mass shootings. He's a good little kid.

Why am I writing about this? I've been thinking about soul searching lately, self-meditation, praying for guidance. The subject keeps coming up for me randomly...like the universe telling me it's something I should be doing. Because lately I feel like I've been ignoring my "inner voice" (what some might consider the whispering of the divine) in favor of simply treading water: going through the daily routine, doing my day drinking, grinding out some semblance of substance in a life where I often feel like some slacker fraud.

I am reminded of an incident from my childhood, where my father gave me the worst tongue-lashing I can remember (and deservedly so), when he discovered I had been...in his words..."pulling the wool over his eyes." Pretending that I was the model student when I was, in fact, really letting shit slide. It was horrifying on many levels, and probably gave me all sorts of negative conditioning that still haunts my psyche to this day. In the moment it was occurring, I really thought he was going to take me out.

I wonder how much of this has been passed on to me and become part of my own "parenting style."

[terrible thought]

I picked up a copy of Michael Thomas's BLUEHOLME Journeymanne Rules today, and had a chance to read through it. I am a big fan of Thomas's original BLUEHOLME (the "Prentice" rules), and wanted to see what his concept of an expanded ruleset would like. I was...well...underwhelmed. The book itself is beautiful (the artwork and layout is fantastic), the scale (less than 120 pages) is about perfect, but the content isn't much more than the original, save that it "goes up to 11" (or 20...level 20...in this case).

And perhaps that's enough...perhaps that was Mr. Thomas's objective in writing it. If I didn't have the Prentice rules (or a copy of Holmes Basic), this would be a "must-have" book for this edition...this style...of Dungeons & Dragons. That's what Holmes is, after all: the world famous D&D game in a slightly different flavor. And while he offers a couple of new innovations (for instance, I like his variant weapon damage that makes sense within the style and scope of the original), on the whole it feels like it could have been more.

But how can I fault him? Really...who am I to pass judgment? He has created a very nice retro-mash of Holmes and the OD&D supplements, packaged it in the most pleasing form (art and layout) of ANY OSR clone yet (honestly, I can't think of a nicer looking OSR clone that I've seen), and provided all the rules he feels necessary for his preferred flavor of D&D. And me? What the hell have I done lately?

The truth is, I've been on an extended hiatus, due less to the busy-ness of my life and far more to straight-up lethargy, inertia, and my various addictions. I'm just saying this to "come clean"...as I sit here at the German pub, drinking beer and ignoring my other obligations. Hell, I just ordered a second half liter as I was writing that last sentence. The fact is, if I didn't have my family to anchor me (and really, it's just my kids) I would probably have no reason to go home at night. Or shower and shave (occasionally). Or clean my house. Or grocery shop. Or anything productive at all.

And being "productive" isn't the same as being "constructive." Productive is simply treading water at this point in my life, and that feels like a damn cop out. About 18 months back, I was writing about how I never learned to "hustle," and worrying about my damn legacy and a bunch of other bullshit. Part of the problem I'm seeing now is that I actually have an idea, an inkling, of what I should be doing with my life...and yet I'm not doing it. It's so easy to rest on one's laurels, to celebrate the small victories instead of seeking out the new challenge, the next mountain to summit.

Fuck. I'm really NOT trying to be poetic here.

It makes me want to (mentally) beat myself up, but I understand and realize that's truly a counterproductive waste of time. If someone came to me with this same, sad sack bullshit I'm writing here, I know what I'd say to him/her. But I've discovered in recent months how useless words can be to changing someone's behavior, let alone their life. Only self-action (i.e. actions taken by oneself) can change the road you're on, not helpful...or compassionate...or shouted...or constructive advice.

Time to put down the fucking beer and get on with it.

I started this post writing about prayer. I can't explain why I find it so difficult to pray (outside of church, when I'm modeling behavior for my children), except that I'm fucking out of practice. God doesn't care if you pray for selfish things, and as long as you understand God's answer to your prayers might well be "no," there's no harm (or foul) in doing so. I think I might benefit from doing some prayer...especially the deep, soul-searching kind. The last couple months I've been doing a little of this during Mass, and I've been receiving some inspiring ideas...ideas that I haven't done much about. Too tired, you know? Or too "busy." Or too lazy. Or something. Whatever it is, the inspiration fades after a couple donuts and a big, Sunday brunch followed by the football game on TV...just your typical, habitual Sunday ritual.

I think I need to start praying on days other than Sunday.

I'm going to leave it at that for now. I want to talk more about BLUEHOLME in a separate post (after I give it a second read and collate some of my more random-ish thoughts), but at the moment I've got some other stuff I have to get to.

Later, gators.

[EDIT: just re-reading this, my writing...and sentences...appear very short and "clipped." I want folks to know that, mentally, there were a lot of loooong pauses in my brain when I was typing this up]

In Other News...

It's shortly after midnight (12:05am, my time) and though I spent the day lifting and carrying 1000 pounds of paving stones (and 300 pounds of sand) I am watching The Defenders on Netflix. Yes, addiction to superhero shows is a bit of a sickness, I admit it. But it's not like I have a lot to do tomorrow (besides move the other 6000 pounds of paving stones).

Sure beats watching the news.

Step off, haters...I've been waiting four months for this.

Orcs and Dragons

All apologies for dropping off the face of the Earth (and not yet writing a single #RPGaDay post). Until a few days ago, I thought my August was going to continue much the same as my July. Instead, my wife's work plans changed and, as a result, my entire family got bundled off to Paraguay for three weeks, leaving me all on my lonesome. Just dropped 'em off at the airport yesterday.

So I spent the last few days spending quality time with the wife and kids prior to their departure. 

Yesterday would have been my first chance to write, but instead I spent most of my free time catching up on my reading or boozing...a lot of the latter actually. It takes me a little time to adjust to being single (it doesn't happen all that often) and I get a bit of separation anxiety. Plus, with no one to come home to (besides the beagles), I have a penchant for staying out waaay too late. And then even after I come home I stay up later. It's like I'm afraid to sleep or something.

Anyway, that's my baggage (and hangover) to bear. Today, I am all set to get back on track. A little breakfast at the Baranof, a bit of black coffee, and a lot of rehydration (via water), and I'll be fit as a fiddle. I still have a lot of things to do around the house, but I should also have plenty of time to blog the next few days. Heck, I may even get in some gaming. Hung out with my old college buddy Joel last night, and talked a lot of gaming stuff. Mostly, Star Wars (he's been running the Fantasy Flight edition lately), but also Spirit of 77, which I just picked up at Around the Table yesterday. Turns out his friend wants to run a short campaign of funky action thrills, and I might show up for that. I mean, my evenings are free for the next couple weeks, right?

In D&Dish news, I'd direct your attention once again to Jeff's blog where he's followed up last month's random class advancement tables with a killer version of the half-orc for B/X. Over the years, plenty of folks have tried their hand at writing up a half-orc class for the basic editions of the game (i.e. any edition that treats player species as a class). Vaults of Pandius (the old BECMI repository) had two or three versions, if I remember right. But Jeff's solution is both simple and elegant: it basically assumes you're human (i.e. pick a human class) but allows you to roll on a special "orky" advancement table (instead of your normal class table), provided your charisma score is low enough. In this case, 12 or less.

This is really great, for a number of reasons. It adds flavor to the game without wrecking the whole species as class dynamic (it's the human half that allows the character to become an adventurer). It provides a "perk" to a character that rolled a low stat (charisma in B/X is very helpful, both in negotiating encounters and in determining the number and morale of retainers). It feeds into the classic orc trope of creatures with low morale and untrustworthy followers (I'm not a fan of orcs with "honor" or "warrior traditions"). It adds choice for the player rather than "buffing" an existing class (for example, adding infravision, languages, and orcish bonuses to an existing class).

Anyway. really well done, definitely worth stealing (or deconstructing for my own design purposes). 

The other thing on my mind is Sunday's Game of Thrones episode. Again I was struck by how many "D&Disms" are part of the show's makeup...a lot of it really feels like an OD&D game (one that is drawing heavily from Chainmail for its combat system). I won't drop any "spoilers" here, but I will say that the handling of dragons in the series is the best I've seen since Dragonslayer, the film I hold in highest regard when it comes to portrayals of the legendary creature. Well done, folks!

It is a little sad (well, not really but whatever) that the intellectual property of Martin's work isn't "OGL;" it would be a lot of fun to adapt the series as a setting supplement for S&W, or even B/X. Yes, yes...I know I've written (more than once) that D&D isn't a great fit for the Game of Throne's setting; that's why I spent a bunch of word count writing up a version for Pendragon. But Martin's world isn't one that features characters venturing into supernatural underworlds, looking for ancient treasures...and folks who see a wight (or a giant or a dragon) are generally running for the hills, not blasting it with magic missiles. Still, while some rewriting of the basic rules would be necessary (changing the advancement system), it could be possible...

But that's not something I plan on working on right now.

; )

Jessica Jones

The problem with comic books is that it's a business...an industry. I mean, there may be more wrong with it than that, but (to me) that is the main issue.

Not that being a business is ALL bad; there's more than a few good things that come out of being a part of a big, greased-up machine. But as with film, and certain other media (yeah, I might as well throw tabletop RPGs into the mix), there're certain large pitfalls associated with being "big business." Being beholden to that almighty dollar, to shareholders, to the need to make a profit. It's not necessarily greed (this isn't another anti-capitalism post...at least, that's not my intent). But folks get accustomed to a certain lifestyle, you know.

For example, Spider-Man has been featured in more than 1000 comics. That's featured mind you...as in, his name is part of the titles. After more than 50 years of fighting crime, you'd think the old man would give it a rest. Most baby-boomers his age have retired by now...and I doubt any of them could boast of the physical beating he's taken over his career. I don't care if he has the strength of a 167 pound spider...he has had his ass handed to him every issue or three. Regardless of whether he's winning the fights or not, that shit takes a toll.

But even if it doesn't (and it doesn't...he's a comic book character after all), how many stories can you really tell over six decades and multiple titles (Spectacular Spider-Man, Amazing Spider-Man, Web of Spider-Man, etc.)? Sooner or later, you're pumping a dry-well. You're recycling the same stories, the same issues, the same drama. You're fighting the same Green Goblin for the upteenth time, it's just Green Goblin II or Green Goblin III or the Hobgoblin. You're dealing with the same Doc Octopus of Doctor Doom you've thwarted on numerous occasions (and yet the guy never seems to get the hint). You've broken up and gotten back together with the same girl so many times it's like...I don't know. I had a neurotic relationship with a girl I met in college that was "on-again-off-again" but that craziness only lasted a couple-three years. You hit age 25 and (so long as you don't have a kid together by then), you wise up and grow the fuck up. It might seem like it takes twenty years, but it doesn't really.

But none of that is really Peter Parker's fault. The problem is one of "the biz:" Spider-Man sells comics. The objective of any business is to make money. Money is made (in that industry) by selling comics. Therefore, the Powers That Be require their artists and writers to continuously pump out Spider-Man comics, by whatever means necessary.

Art be damned. I mean it...comic books are a capital-A "ART form." They've got writing, they've got illustration. They've got pacing and layout and plotting and dialogue and all those things that require artistry (not scientific method) to achieve greatness. But all that "art" is secondary to the need to sell copy. Make an Avengers. Make a West Coast Avengers. Make a New Avengers. Diversify the brand and build on what's already popular. THAT takes priority in a business (going with the proven commodity) over trying to do something new and original. R&D is the money-suck of any business...you never know if the brainstorm is actually going to payoff (and, heck, it probably doesn't most of the time), and you've still got to pay the wages of your employees. You've still got to answer to the shareholders. 'Art be damned...we own the Spider-Man IP!'

So, I'd guess more than a few people have never heard of Jessica Jones. In the scheme of the Marvel universe she's a fairly minor character (though she is part of their "main" universe), and a recent addition (created in 2001). Yes she's had her own title...twice (Alias and The Pulse), but they lasted a grand total of 28 and 14 issues respectively (with The Pulse ending in 2006). I've never read a single issue of either...the only reason I know anything about her is that she's married to Luke Cage.

[I was researching Cage for something a few years back...probably a superhero RPG...and I found out he had somehow gotten hitched and wanted to know who the hell would marry Luke Cage. Thank goodness for the internet, huh?]

THIS image is not what the show is about.

And while I've read all the background and story arcs (on-line) for the character's series, none of it was really enough to interest me. It's not that I'm more interested in Spider-Man or something...he's bored the shit out of me for years as well (truth is I haven't been a regular purchaser/collector of comics for decades). I just wasn't intrigued enough by what I read to want to take the time and spend the money on some new, fire-and-forget, minor character comic series. I used to dig on Dazzler, but I never bought her graphic novel, either.

So now we have this Jessica Jones show on Ye Old Netflix, and the only reason I'm watching it is (in descending order of importance):

1. Because of the interconnectedness of the Marvel Netflix series (Daredevil, Luke Cage, Iron Fist...the main one I'm waiting for...all living in the mean streets of New York) I'm afraid I might miss something if I don't catch ALL the series.
2. I'd feel like a real shit-heel not watching the one superhero offering of Marvel that features a female protagonist. Seriously. Black Widow is bit character. And Shield Agents aren't "super heroes" in my book.
3. The strength of the Daredevil series (and other Netflix originals...House of Cards, Unbreakable Kimmie, Orange is the New Black) gave me faith the show would be at least interesting.

[see that Marvel? There was a time when people picked up the new Marvel hero mag based on the strength of earlier offerings. All those "classic" titles that are into the 800s and higher were NEW once upon a time. Have a little faith (and quality control) and re-learn what you've forgotten]

[or not, whatever. It's your business, after all, not mine]

So I started watching Jessica Jones (for those reasons) and I'm nine episodes in (just watched two tonight), and the show is great. Probably better than Daredevil (I'm still irritated by that cheesy ninja fight towards the end of the season), though I am partial to old DD. But the story in Jessica Jones is excellent, the acting is top notch, the writing and pacing are great, and the whole of the show is compelling. I watched two episodes tonight (five in the last couple days), and I had to force myself to stop so that I could write a blog post before (hopefully) hitting the hay.

But as I wrote in my last post, it can be difficult (mm..."challenging") to watch. The creators seem to really be striving to put the "tense" into "intense." I actually started watching the series a few months back, and am only just now returning to it. It's...well, it will probably push some buttons for you (and not very nice ones)...but that's a good thing, in my opinion. I mean, not if the show is absolutely hateful...and this one isn't. Hateful I mean. There's enough humanity and decency found within the characters (in a non-cheesy, non-preachy way) to balance the negativity.

And some of it's pretty negative...you get that in any story involving private investigators, of course; especially when the P.I.s biz starts getting mixed up with their friends and relations. But Jones is just such a fuck-up in so many ways...even when she's being super-smart and ballsy and tough and clever, she's STILL putting her foot in it. Digging her own hole. She's a friggin train wreck.

She's the jaded nihilist with the heart of gold. She's too much of a realist to be a hero, but has too many scruples (or guilt) to be a rank opportunist. She's a walking bucket of shame with a fifth of whiskey.

It's so anti-heroic, Jones (played exceptionally by Krysten Ritter) is on the verge of redefining what the hell it means to be an "anti-hero." She shuffles around town in her hoody and combat boots, basically making an ass of herself at all times. She shows that even a Class A badass can end up looking like a Class A clown if you keep the "tough guy" image going long enough. So many non-heroic images...getting thrown out of a bar, too drunk to stand. There's a great scene in which she climbs the Brooklyn Bridge (for no reason other than character exposition/development) where the camera is doing the "point-up-the-dress" view, and all you're treated to is a woman in rather unflattering jeans climbing a ladder. There's her completely wrecking people's lives while trying to "do the right thing." It's not Jones trying to be a "hero;" she just has too much morality not to try.

"A drink needs me. I don't."

And she has absolutely no time or give-a-shit for other folks' baggage or self-pity. She just tells it like it is. The murderer whose talking about his abusive childhood: "You're going to blame your shit on poor parenting?" She's constantly telling people to grow up...even though she is light-years away from maturity herself.

But it's good writing; none of this feels like it's just set-up for one-liners. And just as often she's getting sharp retorts thrown back in her face. Or being told off in no uncertain terms. Most often by people she cares about and whose opinions matter to her (thus making the "sting" harder). It's abusive. But it's self-inflicted. It's depressing...but there's hope. I mean, she's a superhero, dammit...she's got superpowers and we're talking about Marvel, so of course there's hope. And we all hope she'll pull through.

Because there are a lot of people counting on ol' Jessica Jones. In the comic book world, people count on their heroes. Eventually. After they realize (in the words of one character) that "they're up there, and we're down here, and we just need to get the hell out of their way." The way God and Stan Lee intended, I suppose.

It's a very good show. It also has nearly bupkis to do with the story arcs of the Jessica Jones comic series (either one) besides her origin story and her abuse at the hands of the Purple Man. In fact, the show is soooo street level, I really wonder how they're going to handle the Luke Cage and (especially) the Iron Fist series. On the Kenneth Hite "blue (weirdness) scale" this one's cranked pretty darn low...not much room for other dimensional realms and flaming chi punches. Just like you won't find Stilt-Man or even "radar sense" in the Daredevil series, the super powers found in Jessica Jones are either rationally explained, or else relegated to the land of Not-Relevant-Enough-For-Exposition. Like Daredevil, this one's an origin story without the origin story. No one cares about how Ms. Jones got her super powers (well, not much anyway)...we care about what she does with them. In this series we're seeing an origin of sorts...not how she became superhuman, but how she became a hero.

And that's a far more interesting story to watch.

[EDIT: Comments on this post may contain *SPOILERS*. Read at your own risk, but feel free to comment]

Wino (Whiny) Thoughts

Sometimes it's hard to believe (as I sit here in the heat, at quarter to two in the morning, drinking myself into slumber with a tasty malbec) that we (my family) will one day be leaving this country for good...and quite possibly sooner than expected. Heck, we might even be back by March.

Maybe.

"Hard to believe," isn't really the right phrase. I most assuredly believe I'll be back in my home in Seattle, but it's hard to feel it in your heart when you're in the thick of it. Until you actually walk through your door and the whole years spent in a foreign country fades away like a bad dream. Years. I've been in Paraguay for years now. I remember, back in college, giving my then-girlfriend a lot of shit for her major in "Latin American studies." Why the hell would you study that? I remember teasing another good friend mercilessly for her major in Spanish (though I understood her reasons for wanting to learn the language). Who cares if it's the second most widely spoken language in the world (after Chinese)...why would I ever wish to travel south of the U.S. border?

Why indeed.

As I've written before, it is quite possible I will look back on these years as some of the best of my life, because of the free time I have, and the time I have to spend with my children. I have not used it as well as I could have. I could have done more with my children. Or I could have focused more on my writing. Instead, I've half-assed both...but that comes from a lifetime of shoddy self-discipline on my part.

*drink*

Even so, Paraguay has been good to my family. It has been good for me. I am terrible at adaptation. I am a big-ass whiner and complainer. I have been a crotchety old man, stuck in his ways, for decades. Paraguay has forced me to blow some of that shit up. I'm still a complainer. I'm still stuck in my ways. But I can see that and I know it's a choice, and I can choose to be otherwise. I haven't felt that way since 1997...a long f'ing time ago.

But please don't misunderstand: this country is a shit-hole in O So Many ways. I don't mean to be flip...I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. Oh, you can make a lot of money down here if you've got money to invest and it doesn't burden your soul to, you know, exploit human beings. That's not really my bag, though. And I wouldn't recommend it for "missionary work," either. No one down here is really interested in being "saved" (in any sense of the word). In the words of Some Great Street Philosopher: "It is what it is." Oh, I have great hope for change...there are a few people who care about that here; more than a few even. But it is really, really hard to buck inertia...and there are folks actively fighting against progress. They don't want to lose their cash cow.

Have any of my readers seen the movie, Dazed and Confused? Great movie...reminded me very much of my uncles in Montana (and, thus, my very young childhood). There's a line in the film, spoken by a teacher to her students on the last day of school:

"Okay guys, one more thing: this summer when you're being inundated with all this America bicentennial 4th of July brouhaha, don't forget what you're celebrating...that a bunch of slave-owning, aristocratic, white males didn't want to pay their taxes."

And that's certainly true. But here's the thing: slave-owning, aristocratic, white males were the people who had power, wealth, and freedom in their time...the ones who were in a position to make a change, real true change, within (what would become) their country. Such change doesn't come from "grass-roots" organization...the "grass" is too busy worrying about putting food on their table to create an effective revolution. The Magna Carta was forced on the King of England by the nobility, not the peasants. Francisco Madero, the instigator of the Mexican Revolution of 1910, was from an extremely wealthy family. Jose Rodriguez, the true "founding father" of an independent Paraguay was a lawyer and politician, the son of a tobacco farmer, with a substantial education (a doctor of theology, a master of philosophy). 

Real change, for good or ill, needs to be a top-down affair...though if you don't have "buy-in" from the proles, it's going to be tough to make it stick. And one of the main problems with Paraguay is that most (not all) of the people in power don't have any interest in creating any real change. They simply don't give a shit. They're more self-absorbed than your average American. And that's really saying something.

But even without the corruption and the exploitation and the ignorance and the contentment of people in power to let the country fucking rot while they vacation in Cancun and Miami...even without all that, it's hard for me to recommend Paraguay. It's too hot. It's got too many bugs. It's got epidemics of dengue and zika (year-round mosquitos coupled with standing water/sewage from broken pipes will do that). It's got poverty...bad poverty. The kind where people have simply adapted to being impoverished for generations and even when they're offered housing and job training, they go back to their hovels which is closer to their panhandling gig and use the free housing as a "weekend house." It's got...

Blah, blah, blah. No one cares. Most Paraguayans don't really care. They don't. It's just the big tranquillo way of life. Sleep on the sidewalk after lunch. Piss on the street when you need to piss. Sit around sharing your mate in the shade of the mango trees growing through the middle of your un-paved street. Who cares? Abortion is illegal and the age of consent is 14, and they've got orphanages filled with orphans, and they celebrate when some primary kid is having an affair with her teacher because she's "trading up" and there's still chipa to eat and half a dozen professional soccer teams to watch and a red meat asado being fired up for friends and family on the weekend...if you can get there without someone smashing into your car on the drive over to their house (a house with electrified, barbed wire running around the wall and shotgun-toting security in the guardhouse on the corner watching for motorcycle-riding purse-snatchers).

This place. Get me back to my sky-high property tax 10% sales tax and $5 lattes and $50 tanks of gas and people bitching and moaning about (what my wife and I now refer to as) "first world problems." At least I know the taxes are going to paved roads and funded services (like police) and efficient bureaucracy. At least I can get a draft beer that doesn't taste like Corona Light. Yeah, I won't be able to afford a housekeeper, but I still have a dishwasher and a kitchen without ants. Yeah, I'll have to do my own laundry, but at least the whites will come out white. Do you like bathing your children in water that's yellow-green? I don't. There's one sewage treatment plant (it's new) in the whole damn country of Paraguay. Yeah, it rains a lot in Seattle...and least there aren't people (and cars and highways) being washed away in floods every time it rains. Oh, my throat and sinuses are aching to be away from the constant hum of air-conditioners, 24 hours a day.

Naked, promiscuous, friendly savages...that seems to have been the main draw for Spaniards to set up permanent shop here, on this part of the Rio (prior to the Jesuits coming in to educate and save souls, that is). At least, I don't really find much other historic reason for the creation of this country. Sure they were cannibals, but they only ate their enemies (and really only the enemies they respected). Now, of course, they have ranches filled with cattle and thousands of acres of soy beans for export. And the friendliest (i.e. lowest) tax rate in the Americas. But even if I was fluent in the local language, these things would not be reason enough to stay here permanently. I'd rather have paved streets and drivers who give the right of way to pedestrians. I like chipa, but I'll settle for a pumpkin scone. Or a bagel with lox. Or a bowl of non-sugared cereal. Or any of a thousand other options. You don't get options here. I went to the grocery store yesterday and there were no beans. No beans. Like, a can of beans. When was the last time there were no beans in your supermarket? 

Give me the beans. I need that more than the easy sexual mores.

Ugh. It's 3:30am and I'm still venting. I'm sorry. Everyone's asleep but me, but I've got a busy day tomorrow, so I should TRY to sleep. I had planned on writing about D&D (specifically, the strength stat...don't ask; maybe tomorrow). But I've been drinking wine, and I'm feeling "venty." I know I'm probably being terribly unfair in my criticism here (again)...my son's school, for example, is very, very nice and would be wonderful even if it were somehow picked up and dropped down in the United States (it would be better than most of the public schools in Seattle). There are worse places to live than Paraguay, even if you happen to be poor. Places that are getting bombed on a regular basis, for instance. Places in the midst of civil war. Other places living under oppressive regimes and military dictatorships. I'm sure there are folks around the world that would rather be napping under a mango tree in Paraguay. At least they'd have mangos.

Me, I've got the easy life. This...this Paraguayan experience...will all be ending soon, either in two months or six. And no matter how long it actually takes, I'll be spending a good chunk of the time eating meat, drinking wine, and putzing around on the laptop. Bitching and moaning, probably, as only whiny, privileged people can. Lamenting shit that really doesn't matter, killing time till I can get back home...my real home, the only home I've ever known. A place with ocean and mountains and evergreens.

*sigh* I'm out of wine. Time to call it a night.

You Are Here