Literature Review: "A Wizard of Earthsea" (1968)

This week, I wanted to give a shout out to a work that is both one of greatest fantasy novels AND one of greatest young adult novels, Ursula K. LeGuin's "A Wizard of Earthsea."

The first entry in the Earthsea Cycle, "A Wizard of Earthsea" is the origin story of Ged, the titular character and perhaps the greatest magician of all time in Earthsea.  However, this tale is set long before he becomes dragonlord and Archmage and the reader follows Ged, also known as Sparrowhawk, from simple village child through his training at wizard school on the island of Roke up to his stunning victory against a fearsome creature of undeath.

What starts off as a coming of age story turns into an epic quest that spans a good chunk of this brilliantly realized and wonderfully original fantasy world that reflects the author's clear love of history and anthropology.  Just her innovative system of magic is a great achievement in and of itself.  Indeed, LeGuin pulls off a scale of world building that many consider rivals Tolkien's Middle Earth and Herbert's Dune.  Except she does it in a mere novella!

However, although LeGuin does a marvelous job of creating a rich background and history to Earthsea, what's even more impressive is that she tells a fundamentally human tale of ambition, pride, childish foibles, courage and maturity.  It is easy for a reader to see a bit of themselves in both Ged's missteps and triumphs.

Although widely regarded as a classic of young-adult literature, LeGuin writes with a sophistication that challenges anyone and infuses the text with poetic wit and sensibility.  For example:

“It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man's hand and the wisdom in a tree's root: they all arise together. My name, and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name.”  

Here the author herself reads from part of the book and discusses a bit of the impetus behind it (forward to 10:55 in the video):

We shall not speak of the horrific Sci Fi channel adaptation.

RPG Design: Alignment (Part II)

Two weeks ago, I covered the genesis and early development of arguably the most controversial of all role-playing topics, Alignment.  Starting from cosmic teams with "Alignment languages", TSR-brand Alignment then expressly baked morality into the rules set and encouraged GMs to penalize PC behavior that was, in the opinion of the GM, "out of Alignment."

In the official D&D universe by 1977, Good, Evil, Chaos, Law and Neutrality are "objective" and definite (e.g., they can be determined via magic)... and a Player's failure to adhere to a GM's subjective interpretation of an ostensibly "objective" belief system could be severely punished.  Consequently, it is not surprising that Alignment has been a disputatious subject ever since.

By contrast, many other contemporary Old School games, such as Tunnels & Trolls (1975), Traveller (1977) and RuneQuest (1978), do not have any kind of officially defined and/or rules enforced in-game morality.

However, things were about to get weirder for TSR-brand Alignment.

In the same year that Holmes Basic Dungeons & Dragons (1977) was released, TSR also started releasing the first of the three core books of 1st edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, the second of which  (The Player's Handbook (1978)) featured an even more complex Alignment scheme than Holmes Basic:

With the exception of 4th edition, this nine-fold system has mostly remained in place for Dungeons & Dragons ever since.

Beyond merely adding four more Alignments (Lawful Neutral, Neutral Good, Neutral Evil and Chaotic Neutral), Gygax further raises the stakes by stressing in PHB that, according to him, Alignment are meant to be mostly set in stone:

"Changing Alignment:

While involuntary change of alignment is quite possible, it is very difficult for a character to voluntarily switch from one to another, except within limited areas. Evil alignment can be varied along the like axis. The neutral character can opt for some more specific alignment. Your referee will probably require certain stringent sacrifices and appropriate acts - possibly a quest, as well - for any other voluntary alignment change. In fact, even axial change within evil or good, or radial movement from neutrality may require strong proofs of various sorts.

Further voluntary change will be even more difficult. Changing back to a forsaken alignment is next to impossible on a voluntary basis. Even involuntary drift will bring the necessity of great penance."

More so than Holmes, Gygax pushed the ideas that 1) in-game morality could be objectively defined and 2) failure to meet these standards should be punished.

One might argue that Alignment is represented in SOME of the source literature (e.g, there are "good guys" and "bad guys" in LoTR).  However, the problem is that the line between "good guys" and "bad guys" is not clear in ALL the source literature.  Most notably, R.E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian is not a nice guy- he murders many, many innocent people, usually because of greed and/or because he's being aggro.  Due to authorial fiat, most of the Cimmerian's sociopathy occurs off-page.  When it occurs on-page, Conan's misdeeds are cast in the most sympathetic light possible.  For example, in The Frost-Giant's Daughter (1932), where our protagonist is clearly a would-be rapist:

"[Conan's] sword fell into the snow as he crushed her to him. Her lithe body bent backward as she fought with desperate frenzy in his iron arms. Her golden hair blew about his face, blinding him with its sheen; the feel of her slender body twisting in his mailed arms drove him to blinder madness. His strong fingers sank deep into her smooth flesh; and that flesh was cold as ice. It was as if he embraced not a woman of human flesh and blood, but a woman of flaming ice. She writhed her golden head aside, striving to avoid the fierce kisses that bruised her red lips.

"You are cold as the snows," he mumbled dazedly. "I will warm you with the fire in my own blood — "

With a scream and a desperate wrench she slipped from his arms, leaving her single gossamer garment in his grasp. She sprang back and faced him, her golden locks in wild disarray, her white bosom heaving, her beautiful eyes blazing with terror."

And, when mapping Conan's behavior on his ostensibly "objective" nine-fold Alignment system, instead of Chaotic Evil,  Gygax calls this guy "Chaotic Neutral (towards good)" in The Dragon #36.

Yeah.

History: Dave Arneson (1947-2009)

I would be remiss this week not to give a shout out to the person who provided the "Spark of Life" to tabletop role-playing:

The self-styled Cheeky Mage!

Born on October 1, 1947 in Hennepin County, Minnesota, Dave Arneson grew up with a lifelong love of games and gaming, joining the Midwest Military Simulation Association (MMSA) when he was in high school.  There, he met David Wesley and was introduced to the latter's Braunstein game scenario (1967), a proto-RPG that was a wargame first set in a fictional German town where players could act in non-military roles (e.g., town mayor, banker, university chancellor, etc.).  Inspired at least in part by Diplomacy (1959), Braunstein's open-ended rules allowed the players to attempt any action, with the results determined by a neutral referee.

These concepts influenced the development of Arneson's Blackmoor campaign, the direct precursor to Original Dungeons & Dragons (1974).  

In 1969, Arneson and some friends attended GenCon II, where he met Gary Gygax.  The two hit it off and collaborated first on Don't Give Up the Ship (1971), a Napoleonic naval wargame, and then OD&D.

After Tactical Studies Rules (TSR) was formed to publish OD&D, Arneson worked for the partnership and its successor, TSR, Inc., before leaving due to differences of opinion in 1976.

Later, when Gygax, in a highly incorrect interpretation of copyright law, attempted to avoid paying Arneson royalties by re-writing OD&D and removing Arneson's name from the front cover (the resulting work was 1st edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons), the latter brought the first of five lawsuits against Gygax and TSR in 1979.

All of the lawsuits were settled to Arneson's satisfaction and then sealed with confidentiality agreements.

After OD&D, Arneson worked only sporadically on RPGs, most notably when he wrote up the Blackmoor setting for Judges Guild in The First Fantasy Campaign (1977) and when he returned to TSR for the "DA" (Dave Arneson) series of modules set in Blackmoor (1986–1987).  However, he mostly focused on areas of personal interest in his later years, as a business owner (Adventure Games) and as a teacher, first special education and then game design.

Still, any reasonable person would agree that the RPG hobby owes a considerable debt to Messr Arneson.  Beyond his specific design and mechanical innovations (e.g., dungeon crawling, campaign play, advancement (i.e., experience and leveling), etc.), Arneson was the one who had the clearest vision that a new role-playing tradition (parallel to murder mystery nights, comedy improv, etc.) was being created, rather than a mere incremental change to wargaming.

RPG Design: Alignment (Part I)

This week, I wanted to take a look at another venerable RPG can of worms: Alignment.

While the definition of "Alignment" in role-playing games is by no means settled, it usually boils down to some flavor of "personal belief system" for the PCs.  As one might expect, attempting to inject morality into role-playing has been and continues to be controversial and hotly debated!  Furthermore, it can lead to confusion and divisive behavior and/or results at the game table.

Like many topics in role-playing games, the story of Alignment begins with Original Dungeons & Dragons (1974), which states:

"Character Alignment, Including Various Monsters and Creatures: Before the game begins it is not only necessary to select a role, but it is also necessary to determine what stance the character will take - Law, Netrality[sic], or Chaos."

Unsurprisingly, the creatures in the Fantasy Supplement to Chainmail (1971), the miniatures war-game that provided much inspiration to OD&D, were similarly divided into "Law," "Neutral," and "Chaos."  OD&D's chart of creatures' Alignments that mostly follows Chainmail's chart.  Thus, given OD&D's wargaming roots (as well as the first adventures being dungeon crawls), it's easy to see why the designers thought in terms of competing teams or sides.

However, by 1974, OD&D went beyond a simple "shirts v. skins" approach and co-opted ideas from Poul Anderson and Michael Moorcock about cosmic scale "teams" of  primeval forces of Law and Chaos in a perpetual struggle.  This shows up most concretely in those wacky Alignment Languages:

"Law, Chaos and Neutrality also have common languages spoken by each respectively."

Alignment Languages were meant to be secret languages for these "cosmic" teams.  So, all Lawful dudes everywhere speak the same secret language because Reasons.

Even Gygax later acknowledged that this was a bridge too far:

"As D&D was being quantified and qualified by the publication of the supplemental rules booklets. I decided that Thieves' cant should not be the only secret language. Thus alignment languages come into play, the rational [sic] being they were akin to Hebrew for Jewish and Latin for Roman Catholic persons.

I have since regretted the addition, as the non-cleric user would have only a limited vocabulary, and little cound [sic] be conveyed or understoon [sic] by the use of an alignment language between non-clerical users."

In any event, if you like the literary foundations, the OD&D version of Alignment is fine, but I suspect many people simply ignored this forced narrative conceit.  Moreover, while  morality is not expressly set forth in Chainmail's proto-Alignment system, a moral element is more strongly implied in OD&D than in Chainmail, since creatures like unicorns are Lawful and creatures like vampires are Chaotic and after elves were moved to Lawful.


When Gygax starts explicitly interjecting "objective morality" a couple years later and making Alignment more central to a D&D-esque fantasy setting, the concept really starts going off the rails.  In the February 1976 issue of Strategic Review, Gygax writes:

"Many questions continue to arise regarding what constitutes a “lawful” act, what sort of behavior is “chaotic”, what constituted an “evil” deed, and how certain behavior is “good”. There is considerable confusion in that most dungeon- masters construe the terms “chaotic” and “evil” to mean the same thing, just as they define “lawful” and “good” to mean the same. This is scarcely surprising considering the wording of the three original volumes of DUNGEONS & DRAGONS...In fact, had I the opportunity to do D&D over I would have made the whole business very much clearer by differentiating the four categories, and many chaotic creatures would be good, while many lawful creatures would be evil."

Eventually in the same article, Gygax sets forth a new five-fold alignment system:

This five-fold alignment system is adopted the next year in Holmes Basic D&D (1977):

Alignment is far more baked into the game system in Holmes Basic than OD&D.  For example, and here we find the first instance of the first instance of Know Alignment spells.

In addition, the stakes regarding Alignment are notably higher, since here we find the first instance of XP penalties for out of alignment gameplay in Holmes Basic.  Even in cases of honest misunderstanding or disagreement, the chance of problems, if you are playing the Rules As Written, have just increased notably.

So, for better or worse, Alignment is now a thing in D&D.  Are things about to get wonkier?  Stay tuned!

TV Review: "Berserk" (1997)

This week, I wanted to give a shout out to arguably the greatest Swords & Sorcery TV series of all time, "Berserk" (1997):

In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least it is true that man has no control; even over his own will.

And so begins this ripping yarn that masterfully combines an epic dark fantasy narrative, ridiculously awesome action and philosophical musings!  An adaptation of the best-selling manga with the same name, "Berserk" follows a young mercenary named Guts as he (literally) carves his way through a low fantasy world reminiscent of late medieval/early renaissance Europe.  This unfortunate place is plagued with constant warfare and endures a level of everyday violence and brutality that makes Westeros seem like Disneyland!

Confusingly, this anime starts with an episode in the manga's Black Swordsman arc then quickly shifts back to the manga's Golden Age arc, where Guts is recruited by the brilliant and charismatic leader of the Band of the Hawk mercenary group, Griffith.  The viewer follows the Band of the Hawk's rise to glory among various blood-soaked battlefields, while Griffith plays a devious and equally deadly game of political machinations.

In addition to enough blood and violence to trigger a moral panic, Beserk features an amazing soundtrack that, fittingly, highlights or underscores the narrative.  Furthermore, the narrative is filled with excellent character beats, such that even minor characters get some surprising depth.  This more than makes up for animation quality that is average, at best, for the time.

In the Golden Age arc, Guts and the Band of the Hawk face danger, betrayal and demonic shenangians at every turn.  Fortunately, Guts possesses effectively unlimited willpower, a zero [expletives] given attitude, and arguably the coolest sword of all time!  This sucker is so huge it makes a daiklave from Exalted look like a kid's toy!

Really, the only major flaw to "Berserk" (1997) is that it ends on an epic cliffhanger... which was addressed by the new series "Berserk" (2016) currently airing in Japan, that picks up immediately afterward!

RPG Design: The Cleric Class

Today, I wanted to give a shout out to perhaps the most poorly loved of the Core Four Classes of tabletop role-playing, the Cleric:

Although published along with the Fighting-Man and the Magic-User in Original Dungeons & Dragons (1974), the Cleric, unlike those two classes, did not have a clear antecedent in the Fantasy Supplement to the Chainmail miniatures wargame (1971).  And, unsurprisingly, there are no clear antecedents for the Cleric in Fantasy literature either.  Rather, this class began in Dave Arneson's Blackmoor campaign, where they filled several key roles in the party, most notably as a healer and as a counter to undead.

Despite being probably the most powerful class at lower and middle levels in older editions of Dungeons & Dragons, being something of a hybrid of the Fighting-Man and the Magic-User (reasonable melee combatant, decent caster plus the most generous XP table), there's often a reluctance by players to be "stuck" playing the party healer, since, in my experience, most players prefer to focus on their own character's exploits rather than being at the service of others (e.g., healbot).

Not helping the situation are the weapon restrictions that Gary Gygax added to the Cleric.  Since all weapons do the same damage in OD&D, these weapon restrictions are primarily in place to prevent Clerics from utilizing magic swords.  However, in later editions, it becomes a serious blow to the Cleric's general appeal.   These gamist restrictions are justified by some wildly inaccurate "history".

The Cleric's weapon restrictions in D&D are also defended in-game with some equally dubious "facts", namely that blunt weapons do not draw blood.  Now, if you whack someone with a baseball bat, chances are pretty good you'll start to see blood before too long.  Perhaps one might argue that "drawing blood" means cutting or piercing flesh, but that seems to me like a distinction without practical difference.

In any event, given the lack of clear antecedents, it is unsurprising that other rule sets take the general idea but focus on only part of the OD&D Cleric's remit, such as healing (e.g., White Mages from Final Fantasy) or religion (e.g., Runequest's deity specific approach).  Moreover, even D&D itself has moved away from the tropes it established, with newer editions shifting the Cleric's remit more toward leadership and by giving healing surges to everyone.

Another source of confusion is the Paladin (sub)class:

Like the Cleric, the Paladin is a heavily armed and armored holy warrior.  Unsurprisingly, the conceptual difference between the two is fuzzy.  Moreover, by having more in the asskicking department, it's hard not to argue that the Paladin stole a good bit of the Cleric's thunder.

So, for my rules set, Sorcery & Steel, I bring the Cleric back toward its Arnesonian roots and also blend in the best parts of the Paladin a single archetype: a soldier of faith who smites creatures of darkness and wields potent divine magic.

Gamebook Review: "The Cave of Time" (1979)

This week, I wanted to give a shout out to the seminal "The Cave of Time" by Edward Packard, as well as the entire Choose Your Own Adventure (CYOA) gamebook series:

The above book cover should be familiar to a generation of readers who were children and young adults in the 1980s, when CYOA reached the peak of its popularity.  Much like Original Dungeons & Dragons popularized tabletop role-playing, CYOA popularized interactive fiction a few years later, where the reader took on the role of the protagonist and made choices that determined the direction and outcome of the story.  For example:

You are hiking in Snake Canyon when you find yourself lost in the strange, dimly lit Cave of Time. Gradually you can make out two passageways. One curves downward to the right; the other leads upward to the left. It occurs to you that the one leading down may go to the past and the one leading up may go to the future. Which way will you choose?

If you take the left branch, turn to page 20. If you take the right branch, turn to page 61. If you walk outside the cave, turn to page 21. Be careful! In the Cave of Time you might meet up with a hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex, or be lured aboard an alien spaceship!

Not only are *YOU* the protagonist, but *YOU* direct the narrative!  This was mind-blowing stuff for kids!

"The Cave of Time" was among the first CYOA that I read and it's a still classic, evoking both mystery and a sense of adventure.  Although listed as #1, "The Cave of Time" was preceded by Messr Packard's "Sugarcane Island," published by Vermont Crossroads Press as the "Adventures of You" series in 1976, but it *IS* the first work of interactive fiction for wide release.  

Consequently, CYOA spawned a wave of imitators, most of which were not nearly as well written or as engaging to read.

I would also be quite remiss if I didn't mention the wonderful and evocative illustrations by Paul Granger:

Messr Granger's pictures lend the story, by turns, whimsy, gravity and terror.  Great stuff!

Related to the last, CYOA is, of course, notorious for instadeaths and "The Cave of Time" is no exception:

"The Cave of Time" can be quite harsh with its instadeaths, as they can come with no hint of your impeding doom.  While that may be true to life, this is an instance where I think the gamebook is better served by verisimilitude instead.