The Three Prongs of Art's Dilemma...

Okay, so the title's a bit misleading. There's lots of great artwork in the gaming hobby, with something good for everyone, whether old school's amateur simplicity (a personal favorite) to the modern era's many excellent offerings. You can't go wrong. But the best our hobby can offer, regardless of visual style, lands on three prongs. Now much of this is subjective, being ultimately the province of personal tastes, which wander far afield. But setting this aside, a truly universal thread runs through the legendary art like veins...

First, there's the characters, the ones going on the adventure. The best art, especially cover artwork, captures these heroes at work, just before, during, and after their struggles with fearsome foes. Whether the original Dungeon Master's Guide, with its battle in the fabled City of Brass, or the first Player's Handbook (my favorite) in the aftermath of hostilities against endless hordes of demon-worshipping lizard men, nothing communicates the game's focus and ultimate intent quite like these icons of adventure plying their trade.

Next, we have the adversaries, the monsters. Shown alive or dead, these are the flip side of gaming art's metaphorical coinage, for what would the aforementioned D&D rulebooks be, really, without their flaming-red efreeti or recently slain lizard men? It's heroes against deadly opponents, so the best artwork, the stuff we call exemplars, has to include these terrifying foes. Now this isn't always possible, especially with interior illustrations; but if possible, these complete an all-encompasing picture of what our hobby's about...

Finally, there's the treasure (or reward, system dependant). What else would motivate the characters to tackle those deadliest of adversaries? Risk needs reward, making treasure, in all its many forms, an essential ingredient of iconic gaming artwork, giving AD&D's classic Player's Handbook, with its enormous gemstone eye, a definite edge. Holmes Basic checks the same boxes, among others. That said, your mileage will doubtless vary; but the above trifecta can certainly help to navigate the prongs of iconic artwork's non-dilemma. 

Musk and the Moral Homebrew...

Our hobby is essentially homebrewed. But it's also an industry eager to appropriate that which its players inevitably do themselves, whether through deliberate houserules or passive misunderstanding. Trust me, I'm the guy who wrote a homebrew after all of three sessions back in 1978 (a system swallowed by time). And it's not just mechanics either. Even a game's ethical foundations are largely homebrewed despite a system's ambitions.

Case in point, a certain billionaire wants to buy D&D to bulwark his version of its history because money's the final arbiter of truth; and seriously, what's the point of being a billionaire if you can't do this sort of thing? All sarcasm aside, it's pointless (words fail me) to suggest anyone can own the truth or the human imagination. The fact that I could homebrew a game after three sessions I barely understood speaks to the futility of trying...  

No, the hobby's progenitors weren't perfect, and how absurd to demand fealty to such a whitewashed version of history. They weren't perfect. Mere realism demands this assessment from us. But they did some good things as well, and gaming's one of them, even if its early vision was (sometimes) similarly imperfect. Anyway, it's not at all disloyal to suggest that our creative heroes were imperfect and shaped by their respective backgrounds.

Part of the problem is that Hasbro (and certain online tribalists) state the obvious without a shred of humility or self-awareness. Indeed, Hasbro shows all the sincerity of a gun-shy corporation shilling virtue while avoiding trouble. All while failing to admit the products they're deriding are (quite literally) paying the bills. Of course, some sins are unforgivable (way to sully a legacy, Professor Barker; Nazis can piss right off immediately)...

But who's left when our moral purges silence literally everyone not born after a certain year, especially since we'll all be judged (and rightly so) by future generations? Yes, the 1970s were sexist by modern, thankfully mainstream, standards. And yes, this had to influence the earliest pastime in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. But while it's right to acknowledge such things and do better, we didn't exactly earn the advantage of living in our time.

More importantly, and here's where the homebrewing comes in, such displays, whether the disclaimers of Hasbro or the performative outrage of Musk, accomplish very little beyond covering backsides (Legal insisted) or circling the proverbial wagons. No rulebook will ever play for us or be decent for us. We bring our intuitions to the gaming table, homebrewing mechanics and morality alike despite whatever rulebook(s) we're using*...

We own that. It's ours. No company, no rulebook can change it. We can homebrew original systems, giving commercial products only what power we grant them through time and/or money (an empowering thought if ever there was), and the same applies to our moral values as filtered through our actions. Thoughtful and welcoming rulebooks are great, but come to nothing without people of genuine goodwill honest and humble enough to engage.

*Within limits, obviously. Redeeming F.A.T.A.L. isn't worth the time or effort...