Being in the Main the Mouth of Olde House Rules
So I've been reading a lot through the quarantine; which in my case involves plenty of Lovecraft (and his various imitators); and what I've discovered (and not for the first time), is that the master of cosmic horror really isn't all that scary. He just isn't. His creations are interesting enough; and that's a big part of it. But Lovecraft has never been truly frightening, non-euclidean geometry be damned. So why is he so damned effective? And why does anything "Lovecraftian" automatically bear the horror genre's stamp of approval?
I think it comes down to fear. And between the reader and the writer, there's two possible sources of this. A truly good story elicits fear in the reader, which is obviously the gold standard for any writer in the genre. Scare your reader and you're a pro. Pet Sematary (the book, not either one of the amazingly shoddy adaptations) did this. You can frighten your readers by appealing to their humanity and threatening all they hold dear once that human connection is established. Make 'em care, make 'em relate; then scare 'em...
But Lovecraft was far too isolated, too socially maladapted (and not in the edgy, hipster sense) to write compelling, relatable characters. He simply didn't understand the minutiae of daily life and relationships except to mention these in passing, often with an air of relief to have it done with. He was the ultimate mamma's boy, afraid to leave home. We quite rightly denounce his racism and xenophobia (often with an air of superiority), while ignoring the genuine fear and insecurity behind it. Crowded streets, loud voices, unfamiliar people and languages; these things would be terrifying to Lovecraft's brand of (social) insecurity.
And herein lies Lovecraft's pedigree: he (the author) was scared of everything: the outside world, the present day. He was frightened of it all and sought escape in the familiar New England landscape and an idealized antiquity that never was. The Dreamlands were all that he held dear, and he admits it. But the howling Void, with its squishy alien creations, was analogous to the real world with all its noise and sex and social demands. Lovecraft couldn't scare his readers. He lacked the skill and experience. But boy could he channel his own fears to atmospheric effect. And if you can't scare your readers, scare yourself.
I'm not sure Lovecraft did this on purpose; but he did it. And it speaks to why he was so effective. Good horror, whether literary or of the gaming variety, demands fear. And that fear needs to come from somewhere. Otherwise, Cthulhu is just tentacles and the mythos just another enemy organization to defeat. And now we come full circle to the present quarantine and my reading list; and armed with this newfound knowledge, am convinced that the best Lovecraftian horror is nowhere to be found in most mythos literature. Might I suggest...
Harvest Home (Thomas Tyron): There's nothing supernatural about this book. It has a bucolic New England town; but I'm guessing God is absent. And yet its (first-person) protagonist makes a horrific discovery when he and his family settle there. A discovery that shakes all that he holds to be good and true. He ends (spoiler) maimed and mad.
Revival (Stephen King): This lengthy tale (also rendered in first person) chronicles the life of a boy who becomes a troubled man, all in a very ordinary world. Ghosts and ghouls have nothing on the horrors of real life. Nothing at all. From tragedy to addiction to the pleasures of love and friendship, we follow our hero through the decades of his life and the gradual reveal of something profoundly disturbing about reality. De Vermis Mysteriis is mentioned, so the Lovecraftian angle isn't accidental; but there isn't a tentacle in sight, and that's good.
Neither of the above, especially Harvest Home, would be the first thing anyone might think of as Lovecraftian; but that's only if we see Lovecraft through a geek-culture lens.
Anyway, the pandemic (and its implications) are frightening enough; but if you're looking for Lovecraftian stories to while away your isolation, just know that this hides in strange and unexpected places. Tentacles are only scary if you're allergic to seafood. Now I'm not saying this stuff isn't lots of fun. Read it if you've got it. But I am suggesting that some of the best Lovecraftian fiction comes in unexpected places precisely because its progenitor wasn't scary at all - he was merely scared - and that just might be enough to produce great horror...
Back in 2015, that's right before the Pits & Perils hardcover omnibus, we argued against the need for a second edition of the game. It was the right decision at the time, as we lacked the ability to take it any further - and besides, why mess with fate? That crappy little rulebook from the 1970s would remain just that; only now it's time for a second edition...
You see, the game has undergone many changes (we like to think of them as refinements) over the past seven years, which was pretty much inevitable as our little ruleset went to conventions and we listened to feedback from the community. Much of this was included in the Referee Companion; but at this point it feels clunky and ad hoc, which was never our vision for the game. What we're doing now is still decidedly old-school (channeling Tunnels & Trolls, among others), although simpler and more streamlined than ever, and this argues strongly for a second edition, especially given the original concept.
But we don't want to change too much. Our goal has always been to craft a second edition where characters from the first could be imported with zero changes required, even as it makes substantial adjustments to the way the rules are done. Change too much and we're not talking about the same system, which would feel like a huge slap in the face.
So yeah, we're refining the mechanics. But we're also adding more content in the form of spells (and miracles), monsters, and magic items. One advantage of a second edition is the opportunity to add value, and this is low-hanging fruit we can't resist. Some of this comes from The Collected Pits & Perils, but we're not stopping there. What a game lacks in heavy mechanics it should make up for in content, especially one with P&P's ambitions. Expect a game that feels like the original, but with its extra space devoted to the things needed to play (and run) a good fantasy campaign. We'll try our best to make it happen.
But what about production? Pits & Perils has always advertised itself as a crappy little rulebook from the amateur underground of the 1970s. Luckily, this isn't confined to manual type and grainy artwork lifted from library books. The earliest RPGs (including everyone's favorite) were ambitious in their design, although limited by a lack of money and the amateur status of their creators; and one need look no further than early Judge's Guild to see what we're talking about. Throw in Ralph Bakshi's rotoscope and you'll get the picture...
Let's face it, our abilities have improved. Now we can make the games we've wanted to, delightfully old-school, decidedly underground, and simple. Some years ago we asked here in this blog when it was time for a second edition. That time is now. We're assuming a year to get this project done, and we'll keep everyone updated as it happens.
Big news, right? But what about the original version? We're thinking this might stick around as the Heritage Edition, maybe a digest-sized affair in homage to OD&D, although we're guessing Matt Jackson will doubly approve. Taking a game people already like because it isn't a second (or third) edition is fraught with its own pits and perils, and we'll be taking every precaution to ensure we don't disappoint anyone. I know we can't possibly succeed, but here's hoping most everyone understands what we're trying to do. Now it's time to crank up Abba and the Bee Gees, que Hawk the Slayer, and put our noses to the grindstone...
Everyone's a critic - even in gaming. Product reviewers are obviously so; but the GM critiques their players (and their choices) all the time. Bjorn forgets to check for traps and BANG! he's dead. This is a critique of the player's judgement; and how we accept this criticism matters greatly. But how we deliver it also matters. We tend of think of these things as a one-way street to our peril. The hobby, with its godlike GMs and influential reviewers, demonstrates a real power dynamic, which in turn requires good leadership.
I served 20 years in the U.S. Air Force; as an airman, a non-commissioned officer, and finally, a commissioned officer. I gave and received criticism on a continual basis, but only just recently realized how this applies to the feedbacks unique to our hobby. We're a community of people first and foremost, and our hobby is supposed to be about getting together and having fun. But fun often requires a dose of criticism, and how we deliver this is important if we want to achieve our goals. Here's what I've learned by serving...
#1 LEAD BY EXAMPLE
I was a meteorologist commanding meteorologists. If I'd never taken a surface weather observation or prepared a forecast, I'd lack credibility to my team. Doing what I was asking others to do made them more likely to accept my critiques - and made me better able to formulate legitimate ones. Believe it or not, this applies to our hobby as well.
Running an adventure is one thing; playing is another, and some experience with the latter helps greatly with the former. Knowing how players think promotes better critiques because the GM can appreciate what people (and their characters) are reasonably capable of and what mistakes they can justifiably overlook. The result is fairer, more defensible judgements for everyone. Getting out from behind the GM screen and submitting to the adventures of others means doing what we ask of our friends, which builds trust.*
Reviews are a little different. We're all consumers of things; and even if we don't personally fashion them, we can still judge their utility. Even so, actually creating the sort of products we review doubtless results in better, more thoughtful (and insightful) evaluations.
#2 PRACTICE SERVANT LEADERSHIP
As commander, success meant elevating others. They still had to do the work and earn it; but my job included making it easier. Even when I had to discipline folks, it was because their continued service and success was valuable and deserved my support. In gaming, the GM serves their players with a fun narrative experience, which just happens to include killing their characters from time to time. The counsels of death and disappointment are much easier to accept when the GM makes it abundantly clear where their heart is.
Moreover, product reviewers are providing a public service; but they should also be concerned with improving the quality of offerings, especially in an industry like ours where peers generate content. In other words, a reviewer should want to like everything they critique and offer criticism as if they wish to help creators to be their best.
#3 DON'T BELITTLE OTHERS
The military is famous for Basic Training, where abuse is performance art. Sure; but this is carefully regulated and gets ditched after training because it's no good way to engender trust or earn the kind of respect needed to be heard. Unless you're just a servile doormat, overt belittlement triggers an involuntary, visceral response. Call me an asshole and mean it, and I guarantee I won't hear the legitimate good advice you follow up with...
I once had a GM who thought he was Mister Spock. He'd steeple his fingers, raise an eyebrow and smile coyly as the party struggled to figure out his puzzles. It might have been endearing if he wasn't so condescending. He'd complain about how stupid everyone was, lamenting that he didn't have smarter players to match his intellect. Soon enough he had no players at all, which was a shame because he was otherwise an accomplished GM.
I also read a recent review that ended with a profanity laden rant about how 90% of everyone failed to meet their refined standards. My heart bleeds. Good luck getting anyone, much less the publisher, to notice their otherwise legitimate criticisms. Of course, the publisher is missing out if they don't - but what a roadblock! The purpose of GMing or reviewing must never be to give the impression of arrogance, even when an individual is obviously committed to the rightness of their cause. Belittlement hobbles every worthwhile goal.
Let your players run a game and put you on the spot; strive to help others get better; respect your message enough not to belittle people. This is leadership. I don't always get it right; seriously, I could fill a phone book with my mistakes. But having the right ideals can surely help, and this isn't confined to the military either. We're all called to lead in various ways, whether working our jobs, parenting, or just being there for the people we love. Our games (and our relationships) demand no less. Hopefully, we make the most of our abilities...
*I know, I know. This can be difficult in certain groups. Just do your best.
