Gary Invictus, the Great Escape...

So last week or so, there was some debate about what Gary Gygax might have thought about the latest edition of D&D. Who knows? But it wasn't lost on me how both sides of the metaphorical (and all-too political) divide claimed Gary for their own and fancied either a kindly, tolerant acceptance or utter disdain (although the latter might have been hyperbolic rambling), which suggests the man's ultimate transcendence...

Gary very sadly left us in 2008. But he lived long enough to change the world, make legions of friends, and share his wisdom. There were decades of articles and interviews galore, including threads on many forums, all of which offered glimpses into the man. But he left us before Twitter and today's toxic political environment, so we'll never know who he'd have supported in our contentious elections. Ditto for the (numerous) hot-button issues endlessly debated online. People try to infer this or that, but it's a clumsy stretch. 

I'm realistic. He was an older man from a previous time, and I somehow doubt his views would consistently align with contemporary mores*. Gary would have run afoul of one faction or another, and the tribes would predictably close ranks faster than you can say sheeple, overshadowing both the man and his work. I'm thankful this never happened in his lifetime, especially given the (absurd) politicization of the current hobby.

By leaving when he did, Gary put his game ahead of himself; and this is as it should be, especially for a hobby explicitly laid in the able hands of its far-flung adherents. No man, not even the pastime's progenitor, should claim the final word. Moreover, by avoiding today's sometimes vulgar (and never particularly humble) online debates, Gary became a universal figure in which everyone can see at least some reflection of their values. In a time of ugly divisions, it's nice when something can unite us in positive and enjoyable ways...

*He had libertarian leanings to be certain; but no one's a monolith or mere stereotype.

Fantasy (TM), Overexposed...

Gaming (and fantasy in general) has long-since gone mainstream. From computer games to television shows, the fantastic is seamlessly integrated into the popular imagination so completely that even non-fans understand its conventions in broad strokes. You can find polyhedrals at Dollar General, plush beholders on Amazon; and thanks to the movies, Santa's helpers are no longer the go-to response to elves (my cell phone offers elf emojis far removed from the toy-making kind). TL;DR: this fantasy stuff is popular...

And that's a fundamentally good development. No old man yelling at clouds today. It means we aren't reviled as geeks or nerds anymore (those born after 1990 might not realize how much of a thing that really was back in the mist-shrouded 70s). It means more products - and definitely more people to play with and/or share our love for all things fantastic, with fewer barriers to creative souls wishing to partake. The incredible diversity of people in the hobby is quite literally the best thing about the mainstreaming of our collective dorks. 

But the mainstreaming of fantasy means the commercialization of it all. Every book is part of a Trilogy (TM), every movie part of a Franchise (TM). Half a century of lovingly enshrined conventions become Product (TM) in a crowded marketplace; and no, it's not lost on Robyn and I that we sell games in this saturated environment. To call our popular culture fantasy obsessed is a profound understatement. Don't get me wrong, good fantasy sells better than bad, and we're rewarded by the market with some great entertainment...

But am I the only one here who who gets tired of it sometimes? From the sheer glut of steampunk and plush Cthulhu toys to the latest formulaic (insert your platform here) series designed in a boardroom and calculated to generate Twitter traffic, it can be too much to stomach. Not sure if the kids here know how familiarity breeds contempt; but it surely applies in this situation. There's no greater threat to wonder than the crass commercialization of whatever takes our fancy. Words to ponder while cuddling our plush beholders. 

But it's a trade-off world, and this is the price of mainstreaming. If that's what it takes to welcome everyone and provide them with choices, so be it. And it's not like we don't have options here. Be a better consumer of products. Tune out the commercials. Given how ridiculously easy it is to sidestep the pitfalls of oversaturation, the complaints of this post are frivolous and probably downright petty. It's our job to act responsibly towards our personal abundance, whether food (drink), money, and/or popular entertainments...

Better still, we can take back our passions. Write (and play) a homebrew system. Make fantasy something we do rather than something we just watch or buy. That's what's so great about gaming, 5th edition as well. It's easy, and inevitable, to make these things our own, which is wildly subversive and positively human. And if there ever was a pastime subject to commercialization and simultaneously immune to its worst effects, gaming, in all its glory, might be it. That's all for this week. Time for this old man to go yell at some clouds... 

D&D's Icon (and Sutherland's Last Laugh)...

So D&D's almost 50 years old. That's half a century of gaming goodness, and I'm sure Hasbro's gonna commemorate this to the hilt when the time comes. But with so much history behind it, I sometimes think about its imagery (and its many changes) and what artwork is emblematic of the game. Something universal despite its seemingly endless remakings; basically, a single image that stands for all it was and will ever be. I pick the cover of Holmes Basic. Here's a look. After some (much) debate, it's the quintessential image:

The game's called Dungeons & Dragons. Here's a dungeon; and a dragon; and a pair of adventurers ready for battle. Nothing comes closer than this to depicting, and I mean literally translating, a name to an image. But it also nails the essential experience of the game by showing its actors, action, and setting. And its creator must have understood this...

Sutherland was a great artist. Not because he was slick like Easely, but because he was simultaneously accomplished with a rough-around-the-edges amateur spirit. This fine artist was relieved by WotC when it aspired to more modern production, and he was right to feel abandoned by the industry he helped bring to visible life. But he gets the last laugh because his work is emblematic where other, more polished efforts fade away.

Gaming is at its very best a peer-to-peer exercise. The later stuff sometimes feels top-down, which is why Sutherland was so effective. I don't mean to denigrate the obvious talent of modern artists. I couldn't draw my way out a paper bag, so those who can get my undying admiration and respect. But artists from the hobby's amateur age also deserve credit. Minus the photorealistic depictions of orcs in sophisticated city adventures, it's that much easier to grasp the hobby's central truth: fighting dragons and winning gold in dark dungeons...  

Gaming Past, Future Primitive...

It's a new year, and we're ringing it in with a new title: Gaming Primitive; an alchemical mixture of traditional freeform/kriegsspiel with the structure and consolidation present in more contemporary offerings. If any of this sounds familiar, it's our mission statement. Read the games free preview to get its measure. This week's post is more concerned with its history and what it means for the future of Olde House Rules - and this blog.

So back in 2018, yours truly considered retiring from active publishing. I'd said everything I wanted to say on the subject and hoped to sign off on a high note. And Robyn lent her complete and enthusiastic support, which gets me through everything. But I wanted to make one final statement. Something a bit more polished that summarized the best of what we genuinely thought rules-lite gaming had to offer. The result was Gaming Primitive...

And then a funny thing happened. I didn't retire after all. If anything, I fell back in love with our back catalog (a back-to-basics moment I guess) and enlisted Robyn's able hands on The Diceless Wilds and Chronicles I: Roman Silver, Saxon Greed. Gaming Primitive was shelved not because of this, but because there was so much else going on. Long story short, it sat gathering dust until I decided it was high time this little piggy went to market.

And now it is. And I'm not retiring just yet. And this blog isn't going anywhere. Indeed, we're returning to a bi-weekly format effective immediately. But as the new year rings in, Robyn and I would like to thank everyone who's supported us through the years. You're the reason we stick around, and you're the reason Olde House Rules is anything more than some greybeard making games in his underwear (you're welcome for the visual). Happy New Year...