Set aside Big Chief Whine-a-muck’s central point for a moment. A pre-Columbus supplement for D&D would be badass. A wild and untamed land filled with savages and spirits and constantly warring tribes? With the occasional off-shore raiding party delivering bands of long-haired berzerkers from the cold north or iron armored Moloch-fellaters from North Africa? Desert dwelling cannibals riding through every time there’s an eclipse? Lost cities of gold? Burial mounds from long-lost civilizations scattered all over the place? That tricksy little minx Coyote running around?
Who wouldn’t love to read that?
Hell, I’d pay a crate of firewater for that! Probably even throw in a thick stack of blankets at no charge.
I mean, I guess if they’re going to pull these shenanigans:
Then we need a better plan that, just like, whatever man.
I do control gamingwhileconservative.blogspot.com. If you come HERE and get that message, I’ll post something THERE to let you know what the new plan is. Probably hand mimeographed rants sold for a dollar over at Grant Park. It’s lovely this time of year.
That depends on what you mean by the word “Christian”, now doesn’t it?
Take a deep breath. Relax. Free your mind from the shackles of the shekelers. Take a big step backwards and unlearn what you’ve learned.
Oh. Let me summarize the Narrative so you know what to stop knowing:
“First there was D&D and it was played by shaggy losers who used it to summon devils and one did drugs and died in a tunnel or something. So the Christian Fundamentalists decided it was totes evil for even mentioning devils but now that we’ve freed the game from its horrible Christian influences by allowing gay orc female paladins it’s finally a force for diversity.”
Or something like that. None of it makes any sense, but revisionist history never does. Instead, take a look at the rules. Looked at how the Christian understanding of the cosmos is baked right into the cake. It goes deeper than spells that mimic biblical miracles like sticks to snakes or create food or water into wine or turn sodomites into pillars of salt*. Look at the core conceit of the universe – the constant battle between good and evil. Look at the inclusion of demons and devils as inimical to health and life. Look at how kobolds and goblins are really just little devils with tiny power levels. Look at how clerics and paladins work.
Of course, the game is a daughter of many mothers, which cheerfully steals from the ancient and the classical world to weave together a magic tapestry that touched people so profoundly that it swept like a wave across America in a few short years. It was a grand and glorious hobby that celebrated everything bright and noble from the slaughter of heathens to the murder of demons. Players thought, “I want to be Roland. I want to be Charlemagne. I want to quest for the metaphorical Holy Grail.” Nobody ever wanted to be the usurer or the jihadi. The closest anyone came was wanting to game in the sanitized and westernized version (read: without all the catamites and sodomy) of the Thousand And One Nights.
And it was good.
Just look at how Western it is in thought and play. That, like Christianity, is a virtue.
Which is why the Narrativists had to infect it with their memetic viral payload and turn it into post-modern meaningless gray goo.
Immortal, soulless elves are a costume work for that +2 DEX bonus. Paladins can serve just, like, whatever, man. The Defenders of Faith gleefully swap their heal prowess for damage spells. They serve themselves first, and not some higher power.
The heroism is gone. The bright line distinctions between right and wrong, between good and evil, have been replaced by situational ethics and sliding scale subjective morality where the only thing verboten is failing to bow down to diversity and perversion. Even alignment has been reduced to, at best, a patch one wears to signal some passing affinity for a personality type, but it carries no weight. No meaning. It’s just a vestigial organ with no real purpose in the game.
And it’s all because the game turned its back on its Christian roots.
Go ahead and give the Appendix N books a perusal and you’ll see what I mean. Three Hearts and Three Lions. The High Crusade. John Carter. Changeling Earth.
JRR Mutha-Humpin Tolkien.
And it’s this last that I would turn your attention to as a guide to follow in injecting Christianity back into your games.
You don’t have to go full retard with it. You don’t have to make your goblins long-nosed bankers. You don’t have to make your priests all mendicants. You don’t have to require followers specifically don the cross and pray to the Virgin Mary. Hell, you don’t even have to go the Throne of Bones method and implement a thinly-veiled church with the serial numbers scraped off and new ones stamped over them.
I mean, you could. You could get your hands on the green cover Crusader Handbook. and there’s always Lion and Dragon if you want to give the authentic medieval D&D a shot. Not my bag, but it’s damn sight better than what passes for D&D coming out of the Pacific Northwest.
Instead, let the Christianity suffuse your games in subtle ways, as Tolkien did in Middle-Earth.
Understand that the mere act of descending into the underworld to do battle against the forces of raw chaos, murderizing everything unnatural and unwholesome, and moving on to the next town to repeat the process, IS IN ITSELF A CHRISTIAN ACT OF DEFIANCE AGAINST MODERN HERESIES.
That’s why the Fake D&D players hate that style of play.
Traditional D&D is traditionally Christian. Even when it doesn’t make the sign of the cross.
Keep that in mind when faced with the spiritually empty wares on offer with modern D&D. Bring Christ to your table, and literally vaya con dios.
You’ll find your games richer. Your excitement greater. And your successes sweeter. You’ll also stand taller, make more money, and the pretty girls will notice you and ask you to brush the sweet-tart crumbs out of your beard.
Better than all that, the change in your attitude – in your approach to the game – will help make you a better person.
Even better than all that, it’ll help you get into heaven where you’ll never have to hear another word from Sandwich Girl or Ironic 70s Cowgirl or the Soyking his Critical Role Butt Bandits ever again.
Sometimes you stumble across a thread too perfect for words.
They should have sent a poet.
Oh wait, they did – that’s my job! I’m a poet and didn’t realize it.
First of all, you can probably guess what the reaction of the little hat crowd was. I’m saving that for last. I’m also skipping the usual litany intoned by rote from the dunces in the Atheist Cult, because it’s as boring as it is predictable. We’d get more fun and originality out of a the table notes from a Junior High Lunchroom campaign than reading anything from those godless losers.
A few Real D&D players make an effort to engage. One clever wag posted the “Crusades” green book handbook to help educate the Fake D&D crowd and remind them of the game’s Christian roots and suitability for gaming in Christian lands. They know so little, those who talk so much. Here’s an example of Team Good tilting a the windmills of heathen ignorance:
Every war against pagans is a holy war. And the use of the word “plotline” is a tell that Jack here is one of those failed and frustrated novelists using D&D as a surrogate mother for his narrative flipper-babies.
Worth noting that nobody has anything to add about adding Mohammedism to the table. Buncha cowards, the lot of them. Hell, adding the Aloha Snackbar to the Deities and Demigods book would be worth the price of admission just for the illustration alone. But no, Mister Thorson there, that brave and bold bastion of iconoclasming – complete with the virtuous signal of pronouns in his bio – has lines he just won’t cross.
To be fair, there is one mention of the Spontaneous Combustion Brigade:
Thereyougo.exe.
Christian persecution around the globe is at near-genocidal levels so stark that even the BBC can’t avoid talking about it. The tiny hats represent half of the one-percent and control a fifth of the Senate. The press agrees that Mohamheads are the real victims when one of them blows up a churches, and they are the only ones who get to veto poisoning children’s heads with sex-talk and tranny love. That’s some mighty fine marginalization you got there.
And Jack Gay-ham is more than willing to bend over and beg for some sweet goat-style loving rather than risk suffering the indignity of a Fake American deigning to sneer at him while pooping in the street. Yes, it’s not clear which one is fertilizing the sidewalk in this scenario – Jacky there won’t be happy until the only ones capable of maintaining flush toilets are gone and his last refuge of virtue signaling becomes watching his wife’s boyfriend’s kids forced to wear hijabs or turn catamite. Guy’s probably excited at the prospect of his gross misunderstanding of what it means to participate in the jizz-ya.
Thor would be so proud of this heroic LARPer. Well, he would be if we Christians hadn’t killed him, cut down his trees, and gave his wheels to Saint Nick to use as a child’s toy delivery service. No wonder the Valkyries are gay now if this is the warriors they have to choose from.
And now it’s time. Buckle up, buckaroos. Let’s check in on what everyone’s favorite tribe has to say about incorporating real world religions into your fantasy tabletop game:
Anybody got a feather? Toss it at me, and you could knock me over. I’m dead now, from a heart attack caused by surprise that the special people want special treatment. This post is being written by my ghost.
My follow-up post, about how D&D really only makes sense with the genuine Christian patina, will also be written by my ghost. Pour a forty of Mountain Dew on the curb for me, lads.
This has been going on for decades, so I can’t even pretend to be sad or surprised about it. We had some hope with the Trumpinator, but it was always just that – we literally grasped at a straw haired man on the off chance things might change. They still might, but for now the abusive spouse that is the Tolerated Right is just doing that whole “now look what you made me do” that they do.
Enjoy me while I last, fellow crimethinkers. The heroes on the social media frontlines have fallen. My quixotic quest to force my political views down the throats of every D&D player (and every YouTuber LARPing as a D&D player, too) cannot be far behind. And you know that the Vichy Right won’t shed any tears lest they lose face with their lords and masters on the left. So be it. The fond remembrances of the right people among the Right People is enough to fill my three sizes too small heart.
Here’s some D&D news you can use. It’s a dungeon featuring a couple of guardian spiders and four of the nastiest little goblins you’ve ever met. The set up is that the goblins snuck into the PCs camp and did them dirty to lure them into the Dungeon of Leviosa! There’s a backstory about a mage killed when his golem went berserk and dragged the both of them into the lava pit, but that’s all set dressing. Some of the rooms have smashed wood furniture or ragged carpets or broken glass crunching under feet and rusted and busted silverware, but it’s all just a mess.
The deal is that the top of this twisting dungeon holds the only real item of interest – a fountain that trickles out a potion of levitation that only works inside this dungeon. It runs slow, so it takes ten minutes to fill a flask large enough to work as a proper potion, but that potion lasts a full 24-hours. Nice!
The villains of the piece stash four vials in that first room on the right and whisk up the obvious hole in the wall to the top level where they wait to roll rocks down on anyone foolish enough to climb it. If no one does, if they run the gauntlet, they will face a merry chase as the goblins float up and down the central chamber, use the obvious and hidden trapdoors, and generally strike at range. They have casks of oil that they can toss down to slick the bridges and force DEX checks for anyone running across them. They have rocks
They also have guardian spiders down at the bottom entrance to help soak the party’s expendables and edibles before they even realize what they face.
As usual, I hide the best loot near the front door – clever or lucky parties can snatch the big prize of 1,350 gold pieces without facing any real danger. That’s always good for a larf.
You gotta play the goblins with all the cunning typical of that long-nosed breed and you can milk the little bastards for a whole evening of combat and puzzle solving. Dropping rocks, firing arrows from cover, oiling up the catwalks. They may even have a box of giant centipedes they can rain down on the poor bastards. When the party finally manages to get their hands on the little blighters, a prospect made far easier once they find the fountain of “Who’s Running Now?” at the top, it’ll prove to be one of the more satisfying bits of vengeance they ever mete out. When I ran for my regular crew last night, the party was nearly salivating at the thought.
Although the potions only work in the dungeon because, you know, magic and limitless levitation can break a campaign, I do let them sell the inactive juice to an alchemist, for research purposes, in exchange for extra cash or for one single-use draught of levitation juice. I also hand out a lot more XP for killing these goblins because the five you get for a reg’lar greenie doesn’t factor in the extra challenges of the environment you see here.
I try to live by the maxim, “Don’t give money to people that hate you,” but most people hate me after ten minutes of interaction so it’s not so much a maxim as it is a muzzle-loading blunderbuss. Living by this tenet means that I’m not really up on my Marvel Avenginators characters, but since this movie that comes out soon looks like a kulturkampf touchstone, and I’m ALL about touching those stones, I figured old E. Reagan better get in on the steamy action so that he looks like a normalish guy during the water cooler meetings down at the old cube farm.
A gaming buddy of mine works nights at the local cinematrix and for a fifty under the table said he could get me into a sneak peak at Endgame. The theater was really dark, and there were only a few other scattered and awkward looking single dudes in the place. Kind of like when you go see a Hobbit movie at one in the afternoon on release day. If you don’t want the ending of the movie spoiled, then do not read further.
It starts off with the redhead and the masked guy no longer up to the usual hijinx. They were really sad because so many of their friends had been forgotten, including the orange alien and the yellow flying lady. Then the big purple guy showed up, and he really brightened their day with some serious hijinx. He whipped it out and the three of them went to town in an epic Chuck Tingle style threesome. Just about the time I was beginning to wonder at how degenerate the culture had become that a straight-up gayed-up movie like this would threaten to break a cool billion beans at the box office, that’s when the Fry Guys showed up.
On a related note: that’s also when I realized that I’d spent the last two hours watching a porn parody of Ronald McDonald and friends complete with Really Big Macs and Mayor McDickCheese. It was called…Endgame, you see. That’s where the confusion came from.
An hour later things wrapped up with a floor sticky even by movie theater standards, and a post-credits sequence revealing that Ronald McBoneAll, the Buttburglar, and Grimace the Booty Shaker all died of AIDS and went to hell for their dirty, dirty lifestyle choices. The Fry Guys found Jesus, repented, and went to heaven. They still died of AIDS, but they went to heaven because they learned to control their demon-inspired lusts.
At the end of the day, the important take home lesson here is that you have to be really careful when slipping a guy a fifty in a back alley to make sure that you’re really getting what you pay for. You’d think they’d teach that in public schools. Maybe they did and I was just sick that day. Well I certainly learned my lesson from the gay porno version of McDonaldland – always check to make sure things are clean before you slip in through the back door. Because once you’re in there, it’s too late to pull out without getting exposed to a lot of crap.
Well, well, well, isn’t this a fine how do you do?
It turns out all those people who refuse to admit to listening to Vox Day because sometimes he says mean things about people who want to put their families in gulags are finally starting to listen to Vox Day in earnest, and the world looks brighter and warmer. That could be the morning sun beginning to dawn or it could be the flames of devastation.
I’m good either way.
What the hell are you going on about this time, E. Reagan?
I’m glad you asked, but pace yourself, we’ve got a crooked road to walk to get to the starting point of today’s blogging journey.
Now that I’m a big time mover and shaker in the world of online niche alt-comic reviewing, all my weeb friends been hassling me to give Nick “Skeeta” Rekieta a listen. He’s a lawsplainer on the Youses and the Tubses whose been reporting on all the legal doings and shenanigans in nerd culture for a while now. Sometimes, while mopping out the quarter booths at the adult emporium just off the freeway for spare change, I’ll throw on the headphones and give him a listen – when he isn’t talking about weeb stuff like gay voice actor (but I repeat myself redundantly) drama.
So it was with some sense of God’s favor shining upon me when I randomly discovered this juicy little bit of dish at the 58:00 mark of last nights episode. I was so gobsmacked I nearly dropped my mop!
For those of you who can’t stand the sight of Nick’s nose in profile, allow me to sum up the meaty, juicy, veiny part of the episode for you to deep throat:
Frog God Games, they of the modern-classic and savagely brutal mega-grungeon “Rappan Athuk”, has been under the PoundMeToo gun for years following a Duke Lacrosse style Abigail Williamsing*. Every time they try to work with anybody, the harpies sing their sweet song and the thirsty betamob swarms in to Shut. It. Down. This time the swarmers bit off more than they could chew by going after a deal between FGG and Steve “Yes, That Steve Jackson” Jackson Games.
FGG has been building a Lost Lands supplement to use with L’il Stevie’s Fantasy Trip(ping Balls, yo), and that project earned a cool hundred and fifty large against a Kickstarter goal of merely fifty large. It’s a neat little pitch, and despite my One Ruleset to Rule Them All stylings, it’s a product I might pick up just to mine for ideas for B/X. That kind of success cannot be allowed to stand in these modren days, don’t you know. Alert the flying monkeys! Break out the rhetoric machine and fire up the -ists and -isms and prepare to fire the word “Nazi!” on the PoundMeToo command!
From the Lost Lands Kickstarter. Don’t you wish you had backed?
It looks like FGG was a bridge too far for the Narrativists. FGG looks to follow their predecessors Dicky C. Meyer, Vic Mignognag, and the Supreem Darke Lord his ownself, and (according to the vidya above) are lawyering up to remind the fishmouthed harridans plaguing the RPG swamps that the real world and the internet are actually the same place and all that tortious interference they engaged in to bring about the blessed Rainbow Utopia was still tortious interference subject to the law in these dark, pre-Utopian days. They’ve even hired expert nerd-champions Beard, Bulloch, and The Two Partners I Can’t Remember Esquire to represent them.
Nick specifically fires a shot across the bow of the usual-est of usual suspects by name checking:
BJ “Rolling Stone” Hensley
Stacey Dellorfanose
Jessica “Ironic 70s Cowgirl” Price
Christopher “Who?” Helton?
Which brings us back to the Real Lesson to be learned here. These people want you dead, your children raped and enslaved, and they think it’s funny. Vox has been telling you blockheads to fight back and make the rubble bounce for years. We know that Ya Boi Jawbreakers listened to him – he quoted the three laws of social justice often enough, and called up the legal team of “Fear the Beard et. al.” in response to Mark “The Human Squeegee” Wade messin’ where he shouldn’ta been a messin’. And now that Zack’s boots are gonna walk all over Waid, Vic gets the message that he should take the PoundMeWeebs to court, and that leads to FFG launching an anti-brigade, who inspires the Dark Lord to go after IndieNoGo, and now the circle is complete. The master has become the master once more.
Ironically, the eleven million dollars that Critical Role managed to fleece from the hobby also proves that we nerds have more money than sense and are easily parted from both. Mayhaps even more blood-sucking lawyers will get the message and start openly courting we aggrieved and put-upon grognards to rally to our defense when the Cat Lady Hordes threaten, on their signal, to unleash SOY!
Hell, we’re gamers for God’s sake. We live for this sort of word combat, rules jiggery, and lawyer pokery. Once the gloves come off, the Fake Gamers don’t stand a chance.
I hope all of you little guys appreciate the way these four Big Damn Heroes are stepping into the breach. The legal fights of The Vox and the Three Little Voxes ain’t cheap, and they ain’t easy. But every time one of these gets launched, it sends a signal to the Fake Nerd mobs and grifters that maybe we aren’t such soft targets after all. They might be able to weaponize the thirst of the typical unlucky in love D&D fans against us, (the success of Satine Phoenix is all the evidence we need for that,) but with each legal notice, they receive word that we are capable of punching back. And every big case like this prevents a dozen trickle-down cases from ever seeing the light of day. The next time you get through a
So support your local edgelord today. And, though I say this though teeth gritted so hard I’m likely to break one of the seven I have left, thank a lawyer for stepping into the breach and defending us from evil.
* For those of who you aren’t well versed in American history, that’s a reference to the first accuser in the Salem Witch trials. The E. Reagan Wright team only LARPs at being a disgusting chowderhead, we’re actually some erudite worksmithing motherfuckers.
And Annalee Newitz knows what the cool kids are up to because OH MY LAWD!
Everything is coming up Lesbian Milhouse. Good news, lads – Bowtie McSweatervest here is here to explain to us what the cool kids are doing these days. Next thing, I’m going to be giving you advice on how to avoid contracting Stage Six diabetes*.
These are not serious people.
If you read the article, there’s nothing in it but a long autobiographical “What about meeeeeee!” tale of a woman(?) turning to tabletop games because the competitive nature of the online sphere ground her down and it had nothing to do with the complete failure of Gawker, for which she served as editor-in-chief, nor the derth of love for io9, which cancer she was also responsible for.
Let’s look at the tale of a compulsive journalist and liar (but I repeat myself):
I started playing Dungeons & Dragons right around the time I completely gave up on Facebook. It was a little less than a year ago,
Cool start bro.
Until then, I had played a little D&D as an adult, but I hadn’t joined a group that met regularly.
So…you started before a year ago. You couldn’t even get through two paragraphs without contradicting yourself, Annalee. What is it with these people?
[I] played D&D in the 1980s with a group of geeky guys every day at lunch throughout the sixth grade
Ayo – hol up. I’m more insulted you thought we wouldn’t notice your brazen liars. This is ridiculous.
So here’s the question – what we have here is the fakest of journalists pretending to be the fakest of D&D players and no doubt hoovering up a lot of that sweet, crude Soros cash to do so.
What’s the deal here?
Easy. Trad D&D, the manly version preferred by high-T kings, had to be destroyed. It was an element of the hard-core, hard-mode, Western Civilizational model of building, challenging, and striving to make a better world. They couldn’t ban it without making it more popular, as the Satanic Panic of the 80s proved. They couldn’t let it wither on the vine, because its primary fan base is autists who compulsively enjoy things FOR-EV-VER! They tried to supplant its popularity by inviting a bunch of fat chicks that love Anne Rice waaaaay more than she deserves into the hobby, but women are fickle and soon moved on from Vampire: The Fattening. They tried to kill D&D with a death by a thousand story-game cuts, and that failed because the people who write storygames are hideous child-touchers who mistake nepotism and cults for talent and fans. The only thing left to do was contact Big Tabletop and spread some of that sweet lucre around to ensure that the latest edition would inject storygame faffery into the core D&D game itself and slather that soup sandwich with a heaping helping of Everybody Gets a Trophy. As they so often do, they weaponized our own thing against us.
It was a two pronged approach – blandify the game and convince the SJW freakshow that burning it to the ground was a way to strike the root of tuh patriarchy. Annalee is one of those modren meme-cancer vectors that’s won “prestigious awards” like the Nebula prize for Narrativist Literature Wearing Spaceman Outfits:
I was about to become an Aarakocra cleric, a bird person with a divine connection to nature who could call down lightning, raise winds, grow plants from the barren earth and heal the dying with a touch.
So creative. So magic. So Chinese Menu gaming. Let’s keep it real, guys. Multiple choice D&D isn’t Real D&D.
Despite their best efforts, the remnant remains. Though we walk through the wilderness, clinging to each other and supporting the shrinking number of un-pozzed RPG producers, in the end we shall prevail. Real D&D will still be practiced, d4 thieves and all, long after the Annalee Newlocusts move onto to greener crops.
They can have my Reaction Table when they pry it from my cold, dead fingers.
*I have a double case of Stage Three diabetes. My body doesn’t just fail to produce insulin, it consumes to produce black bile. I’m like a vampire that only sucks your blood to get at the insulin.
Everybody’s favorite intellectual and physical midget be passing out wake-up pills and raising You Know Who Questions like he’s being paid by the same guys to make the alt-right look good who pay Richard Spenser to make the alt-right look bad.
Posted inUncategorized|Comments Off on B-Shap, Red Pill For Hire
At long last, a tall cool drink of alt-right water in the midst of a liberal and cuckservative desert. Inspired by the need for soldiers in the Culture War, E. Reagan Wright volunteered to stand up to the forces of progressivism before they complete their takeover of the once energetic, diverse and just plain fun hobby of role-playing games. A lone voice in the digital wilderness preaching to that quiet, right-wing remnant that has languished in the cold for years. E. Reagan Wright loves his Mom, guns, apple pie, football, and calling that lesser game by its rightful name - soccer.
Set aside Big Chief Whine-a-muck’s central point for a moment. A pre-Columbus supplement for D&D would be badass. A wild and untamed land filled with savages and spirits and constantly warring tribes? With the occasional off-shore raiding party delivering bands of long-haired berzerkers from the cold north or iron armored Moloch-fellaters from North Africa? Desert dwelling cannibals riding through every time there’s an eclipse? Lost cities of gold? Burial mounds from long-lost civilizations scattered all over the place? That tricksy little minx Coyote running around?
I try to live by the maxim, “Don’t give money to people that hate you,” but most people hate me after ten minutes of interaction so it’s not so much a maxim as it is a muzzle-loading blunderbuss. Living by this tenet means that I’m not really up on my Marvel Avenginators characters, but since this movie that comes out soon looks like a kulturkampf touchstone, and I’m ALL about touching those stones, I figured old E. Reagan better get in on the steamy action so that he looks like a normalish guy during the water cooler meetings down at the old cube farm.
Well, well, well, isn’t this a fine how do you do?
The Alt-Right DM 
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