Being in the Main the Mouth of Olde House Rules

Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Bodies Change: An Opherian Mystery...

Some players have wondered why Stalkers of the Elder Dark features only three of the Opherian Mysteries. There has to be more, but we hoped to avoid even a level playing field with the cosmic horrors characters will inevitably face. That said, there are other dreadful Mysteries to be uncovered (and used) in a Faustian bargain, for no power comes without its price. So being October, a month of horrors, here's a fresh offering...  

BODIES CHANGE transforms the caster into an abaloth, with all the physical attibutes of one while retaining their human faculties. This utterance deals an instant 2d6 trauma, with 1d6 additional points per day spent in this condition. Traumatized characters ignore their phobias in this state; but mental breakdown causes them to become true (and mindless) abaloths pending recitation of an Elder Sign in the presence of the affected individual.

The above can be used to survive the void of space and/or withstand the debilitating effects of one's greatest fears, noting that phobias become active again upon resumption of the character's human form and faculties. Of what use this was to the Opherians remains lost to deepest time, although some writings suggest a reproductive process, if not a gift to cults consecrated to The Elder Ones. It may be best not to know such secrets...    

Once again, fair fights are antithetical to cosmic horror. That doesn't mean the players have no chance against the darkness. Far from it. But it does mean the characters are at best unnerved; and when taking up the tools of the enemy, they do so at tremendous personal risk as befits the terrifying powers at work. And if your players know even a hint of real fear at risking a beloved character's humanity, Stalker's true purpose has been realized.

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

Gaming's Timeless Tabletop...

Who remembers Pong in the 1970s? Robyn and I plead guilty. Not only was it cool that mere mortals could control what appeared on their screens; it was doubly exciting that we could physically interract, indeed control, what happened therein. Fast forward, we're playing Atari's square and conspiculously pixelized reality. We thought Intellivision was damn near Skyrim because one could (sort of) make out the baseball cap on the pitcher...

Fast forward again and its the future. Computer (and especially console) games are ambitious affairs with Hollywood's production values. Vintage games were primitive things, and while throwback titles exist, you can tell the difference. But tabletop games, they're timeless. Now the design and physical production might be dated (OD&D was clunky with more than a few oversights); but our theater of the mind was as modern as CGI.


The human imagination, beyond all gadgetry, has better special effects. Of course, a generation born to shoddier (you can see the zippers) movies doubtless refers to them, so maybe not universally; but as a rule, human imagination reigns supreme. And that's the timelessness of tabletop gaming. It's one step away from a Paleolithic clan gathering, but more realistic than centuries spent trying to nail our visuals with technology... 

Friends sharing stories. It's a human preoccupation. And given all the hysteria around television (the 70s version of a modern concern), you'd think roleplaying, with its social bent and academic pretensions, would have been a parent's dream. Another decade's drama, replete with bad religion and 80s hair metal; but it's nonetheless true that while technology tried to tell our tales, tabletop was there well before we finally started catching up. 

Tuesday, September 19, 2023

Autumn Is Gam(ing) Season...

No, not football. Tabletop roleplaying. It was autumn of 1977 when I fell in love with the Rankin/Bass Hobbit, and autumn of 1979 when I found out we were moving just as things were getting good with my local D&D group. More happily (and against the odds) it was autumn when we moved back (a different neighborhood, but with new friends) culminating in a season spent anticipating the Holmes Basic I knew Mom had gotten me because yours truly wasn't remotely subtle. Christmas 1980, the ending to a perfect fall... 

And so for me at least, autumn has always been (tabletop) gaming season; but why, beyond circumstance and random history, is it so? I suspect the following:

(1) Autumn is cooler. You start moving indoors for cozier entertainments. I'm sure this has changed, what with computer games and the mainstreaming of D&D; and, of course, I played over the summer months as well, although family vacations plucked various party members beyond recall, so maybe they weren't always the best months to be a roleplayer.

(2) October brings ghosts and goblins to every house for weeks ahead of the big night, and these channel the supernatural monsters in just about every dungeon.

(3) Christmas, the true culmination of autumn, brings many people's first gaming experience when not new additions to a pre-existing obsession. Birthdays and Christmas remain the perfect times to grow a collection. Games abound anymore. You can get a fascimile of early D&D for free (Basic Fantasy); but back then, rulebooks were precious comodities.

Of course, your experience may differ. Birthdays happen year-round, and the alchemy of circumstance means that everyone's gaming season has its own trajectory. 

And speaking of autumn, it's coming this week, and after a summer working on Mydwandr, finally available in hardcover, a break is definitely in the cards. Don't be suprised if Pits Perilous resumes a monthy format. Between Baldur's Gate 3 and Starfield, there's finally time to relax and explore some digital worlds. Not to worry though, autumn's fantasy bona fides won't be forgotten. There's an excellent chance the cooler (and shorter) months inspire more, not less, gaming goodness. In the meantime, have the best of all possible seasons... 

Tuesday, September 5, 2023

But You're Not Doing It Right...

How often do we hear that online? Gatekeepers are hardly an endangered species, and they absolutely thrive in certain environments. This stuff rarely interests me; but it came up in a friend's feed last week, and since it involved something I am interested in, original Dungeons & Dragons, I couldn't resist tossing my hat into the proverbial ring. My friend, it seems, was fighting the right side of an argument with an anonymous online other, an argument about the pastime and its rightful execution. You know, the gatekeeper's refrain... 

Specifically, they argued that since OD&D saw itself as a fantastic medieval wargame, miniatures and map boards were mandatory. Theater of the mind stuff was wrong because a free and open-ended game demands restrictions, apparently. I call this indefensible (and decidedly wrong-headed), but there's a lesson here for fantasy's gatekeepers. First though, this argument can't go unanswered; and believe it or not, the stakes couldn't be higher, especially in a hobby where literally everything happens upstairs.

While D&D (in all its flavors) is a fantasy simulation, that's not really what made it great or allowed it to grow beyond its wargaming base. It certainly helped. A lot, actually. But it was its open endedness that allowed it to become more than some niche pastime known only to a wargaming subculture. Gygax saw its potential immediately, so much so that he brought it up, the ultimate hint, in his Foreword. You'll have no shortage of players, Gary promised, which included those not by any stretch of the imagination ardent wargamers. Spot on...


And you can't get past the Introduction before finding out that miniatures were optional, although recommended. To quote Gygax, miniatures are not requiredNow Outdoor Survival, for its gameboard no doubt, completed the list of required items, suggesting that counters, cardboard or otherwise, were an assumed element. But common sense was enough to know that Gary wouldn't tether his cash cow to another company's product forever. Anyway, our requirements are down to a lot less than our online gatekeeper thought.

Now it's almost certain that miniatures figured prominently in many early games. There's the famous (if not legendary) plastic dinosaurs (not even in a loose sense) that inspired D&D's now-ubiquitous owlbears and rust monsters. But not everyone could afford miniatures, which weren't yet available in the variety of later years, leaving many groups to forego even their cardboard substitutions. Where I grew up, D&D was catching on in so-called gifted classes at school, where non-wargamers were drawn to its potential sans-accounterments...

It quickly became theater of the mind, and why not? Of course, this speaks to the evolution of D&D away from its original wargaming roots, validating the gatekeepers who might rightly observe that the game was no longer being played as originally concieved. Except that Gary, a practical creative, made the tentative nature of any so-called requirements certain from OD&D's opening pages. At any rate, playing the game differently is another thing completely, especially given how obviously accomodating Gygax and Arneson were.*

Take away D&D's miniatures, and you take away an option. But take away the ability to tailor the game and make it your own, and it's reduced to Monopoly with Avalon Hill influences doomed to nerd subculture obscurity. Anyway, I can't imagine denying our hobby that which sets it apart. The gate swings both ways, and it has no guardians, only clever custodians bringing their active imaginations to life. Appropriately, OD&D ends offering one final nugget of  wisdom: decide how you would like it to be, and then make it just that way...

*Gygax would later clamp down (hard) on his creation; but this was pureblood OD&D.