James Maliszewski's Blog, page 39

Jump Dimming

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I don't like flying. I'm not afraid of flying; I just don't enjoy almost anything about the experience of it. However, to get to Madison, Wisconsin for Gamehole Con, I needed to take two planes – there are no direct flights from Toronto – and then, to return home, I needed to take two more. All four flights were fairly short (less than an hour), so I didn't spend much time on any of the aircraft. However, during one of the flights, the lights were dimmed just before landing. This is apparently for safety reasons having to do with ensuring the passengers' eyes are acclimated to low light in the event of an emergency at nighttime, or so I recently read.

To show how thoroughly my brain has been colonized by roleplaying games, my immediate thought, upon seeing the lights dimmed, was of Traveller. In the Third Imperium setting, there's a practice known as jump dimming. What happens is that a pilot dims the interior and exterior lights of his starship for about two minutes before entering jumpspace. During the early days of jump travel, a starship needed every joule of energy to power its computers and jump drives in order to create a stable jump field. That's no longer the case – if it ever was, since it's considered a superstition within the setting – but the practice persists among Vilani pilots, even thousands of years later.

I always thought it was a cool bit of setting detail, the kind of thing that helps bring the Third Imperium alive and distinguishes it from other science fiction settings. I especially liked it because it's described as being a superstition and that's the kind of thing that should exist, even in a sci-fi setting, and yet I rarerly see such things. Instead, most science fiction settings are rather dull and antiseptic, completely ignoring the way that human beings (and, presumably, other intelligent species) attempt to make sense of the universe by imposing on it an order and rationality that isn't always in evidence (and may indeed not even exist). So, score another one for Traveller. 

Except that jump dimming is a contrivance created for an adventure. Back in 1986, in the waning days of classic Traveller, before the publication of MegaTraveller, there was a licensed Traveller fanzine called The Travellers' Digest – more on that later this week – that I started reading in high school. Issue #4 includes an adventure called "The Gold of Zurrian" that take place entirely aboard a starship. During the two-minute period when the ship's lights are dimmed in preparation for jump, one of the passengers aboard is murdered. Solving her murder while in jumpspace forms the bulk of the scenario and the superstition of jump dimming was invented solely to provide cover for the murderer to do his dirty work.

The fact that jump dimming didn't exist prior to the publication of issue #4 of The Travellers' Digest does nothing to lessen my appreciation for this bit of worldbuilding. Indeed, I actually think that knowing its origins increases my appreciation for it. The writers at Digest Group Publications succeeded in creating something that felt completely plausible within the context of the Third Imperium setting, even though its ultimate origin was utilitarian: how to have a murder take place aboard a starship without being seen. In the years since, jump dimming has become an accepted, if minor, part of the Third Imperium setting. I doubt many players even know its origins or care.

I won't go so far as to say that something like jump dimming could only have come about in a roleplaying game, but I do think that RPGs frequently punch well above their weight when it comes to good ideas like this. This is especially true in games that are played regularly. Referees need to create all sorts of things in response to player actions or to set things up for a particular kind of in-game situation. I know I've done it countless times and I doubt I'm alone in this regard. To that end, if you've come up with something through play that then "ascended" to become a fixture of a game setting, I'd love to know about it in the comments. 

The History of TSR

L to R: Mike Mearls, Jeff Grubb, Ed Greenwood, Steve Winter, David CookWhile I was at Gamehole Con, I attended several panels featuring luminaries of the hobby. One of the best dealt with the history of TSR from the late 1970s through its purchase by Wizards of the Coast. Mike Mearls served as its moderator, but the real attraction were the panelists: Jeff Grubb, Ed Greenwood, Steve Winter, and David "Zeb" Cook. They're all depicted in the photograph above, taken by a friend of mine who also attended the panel. Despite my avowed dislike of smart phones, the ability to snap easily photos is something I regret not having. I met so many wonderful people, both famous and otherwise, that I regret I could take photos to commemorate the occasion. As I get older, I suspect that having such mementoes would be helpful in recalling places I'd gone and things I'd done. Oh, well!
The panel was jam-packed with lots of charming anecdotes of the panelists' time working for TSR, either directly, as in the case of Grubb, Winter, and Cook, or as a freelancer, as in the case of Greenwood. Indeed, one interesting story hinges on the fact that Ed Greenwood was never actually employed by TSR, except on a contract basis, even though many people falsely assume that he did (owing to how often his name appeared on TSR products). Ed recalled that he would often spend a week or so after GenCon each year, hanging around the TSR offices so that he could help plan the next year's release of Forgotten Realms products. 
While present in Lake Geneva, Greenwood was often asked by the staff designers and editors to act as their go-between with the dreaded Lorraine Williams, who ran the company after the ouster of Gary Gygax in 1986. According to Ed, Williams would always use the elevator to reach her office rather than the stairs. He would lay in wait near the elevator until she appeared and then get in the elevator with her. Once the elevator's doors had closed, he'd tell her something that needed saying but that none of the salaried employees could dare to say. Williams would listen and then ask Greenwood, "Do you work for me?" He'd emphatically reply, "No," and she'd reply, "I see," the implication being that, if he had been so employed, he no longer would have been. Williams sounds like she was a real piece of work.
Equally interesting was the fact that TSR Hobbies rarely knew what it was doing. The company survived and prospered largely due to just how popular Dungeons & Dragons was. TSR could afford to lurch from one decision to the next without any real plan, because D&D sold very well and TSR's creative staff did a good job of making products that gamers wanted. This lack of planning extended to the company's annual product schedule, many of whose products began simply as titles intended to fill an empty spot rather than anything more detailed. Cook mentioned a couple of humorous examples of this – the Expert-level module, The War Rafts of Kron and the Oriental Adventures scenario, Mad Monkey vs. The Dragon Claw. He came up with both titles, but it fell to the writers ultimately assigned to them to determine exactly what those title meant.
Another topic of discussion was why TSR produced so few products for the World of Greyhawk line. Apparently, it's a popular conspiracy theory among some fans that TSR hated Greyhawk or that there was an intention to slight Gygax's campaign setting. That's not true at all. There were many proposed Greyhawk products over the years that never saw the light of day. What prevented their being developed was Gygax himself. Since he was Greyhawk's creator, he had to sign off on any proposals for the game world. He was often too busy to do so in a timely manner and, as a consequence, these products were among the first to be cut from the schedule (during the annual "St. Valentine's Day Massacre," when, each February, the release schedule was adjusted and certain products were eliminated).
At the other end of the spectrum, the panelists also spoke very fondly of their days working for TSR, as well as the other editors, artists, writers, and designers with whom they worked. Lake Geneva is a small place and, based on the stories they told, very few people in town really understood what TSR Hobbies did, let alone played RPGs. Consequently, the creative staff became more than just colleagues: they were friends, too. I have to say that, more than anything else they said, this fact really touched me. I'm so happy to know that, despite all they had to put up with, they still look back on their days at the company – and at each other – with obvious affection. I've talked before about my own youthful attachment to TSR, so hearing that people who worked felt similarly does my heart good.
Sadly, the panel was only an hour long. I could easily have listened to the panelists talk for two or three times as long about their days at TSR and never gotten bored. Fortunately, Gamehole Con is a small enough con that it was very easy to find and approach these fine gentlemen on my own and chat with them a while about these and related topics. It's one of the best things about GHC – one of many – and I am so happy to have gone this year. I'm already looking forward to October 2025, so I can return.

Gaming with Allen Hammack

I played in several RPG sessions while at Gamehole Con this year. Though I enjoyed them all – and will eventually discuss each in turn – the one I most immediately want to talk about is  The Ghost Tower of Inverness , refereed by its original author, Allen Hammack. The AD&D module was published in 1980, having been used before that as a tournament scenario for Winter Con VIII in late 1979. Like many tournament scenarios, this one is rather contrived in its set-up and features a funhouse dungeon filled with all manner of puzzles, trick, and traps. 

For the purposes of this post, I don't have a lot to say about the scenario itself, since it's old and probably quite well-known to most readers of this blog. Instead, what most interests me and that I think is most worthy of attention is the way Mr Hammack ran it at the table during the con. Bear in mind that Hammack was employed by TSR Hobbies between 1978 and 1982, where he worked as a writer, designer, and editor, primarily on the AD&D. I mention this to provide some context to what follows.

The module is designed for five pre-generated characters, all human – a fighter, a cleric, a magic-user, a thief, and a monk. I played the cleric, Zinethar the Wise, who was 9th level and, oddly, had slightly more hit points than the fighter. The module assumes that all the characters with the exception of the monk are condemned criminals who are offered the opportunity to escape imprisonment by undertaking a dangerous mission for the Duke of Urnst (in the World of Greyhawk), namely, the recovery of the Soul Gem from the titular Ghost Tower. I knew none of the other four players prior to play, so we had to learn to work together to succeed.

Mr Hammack is an older gentleman. I have no idea his actual age, but I suspect he's probably in his late 60s or early 70s at least. Despite this, his mind is very sharp, especially when it comes to the AD&D rules. More than once during the four hours we were at his table, a player asked a question about how, say, a spell functioned. Before someone could find the appropriate page in the Players Handbook, Hammack recalled the relevant information – and correctly. After a while, we learned to trust his memory over our ability to flip pages quickly. I bring all this up, because it supports my long-held contention that hobbies like roleplaying are good for the health of your brain. 

Given how well he remembered the rules of AD&D, another question that came up was how strict Mr Hammack would be in applying them. He chuckled and said that he was generally quite flexible about doing so, with a couple of exceptions. Going back to spells, Hammack explained that he is often loose with spell durations but he was more rigid about areas of effect. Likewise, he noted that he was loose with encumbrance, unless he felt a player was trying to take advantage of a situation. He then told a terrific story about how he and other AD&D players of his acquaintance would use 3×5 index cards for character sheets, with stats being written on the front and equipment on the back. Anything you could fit on the back of an index card – in legible writing – would probably not bring encumbrance penalties into effect. 

Mr Hammack's overall approach to rules was governed by common sense. He clearly knew the rules and was prepared to apply them when he felt it necessary or appropriate, but he never felt bound by them. Indeed, he could be talked out of applying them by a good argument from a player, as he was on at least one occasion. At the same time, Hammack was also quite clear that his decision was final. Once he'd made a decision and considered any input from the players, there was no further arguing of the point. That he was fair and judicious probably explains why no one argued with his final decisions – that we were all middle-aged men, not children probably helped, too. I found the whole experience quite refreshing, to be honest.

I should note that, despite his extensive knowledge of AD&D rules, Mr Hammack was not above introducing house rules into play. For example, there were many occasions when he asked us to roll under a character's ability score to determine if our characters succeeded at some action or other. Likewise, he made use of a simple critical hit/fumble mechanic that's definitely not something Gary Gygax would ever have approved of. The mechanic worked fine in play and even contributed to a number of fun moments, which was exactly what we all hoped for.

In sum, I had a great time at Allen Hammack's table. He was a charming, knowledgeable, and imaginative Dungeon Master and he made me appreciate how good a module The Ghost Tower of Inverness actually is. I consider myself very lucky to have played with him at Gamehole Con this year.

Unplugged

I am a Luddite. 

I know it's common for people to joke that they're technophobes, but I'm the real deal. I'm not merely a slow adopter of technology; I'm actively hostile towards many forms of tech, especially those whose function intrudes upon our everyday lives. Consequently, I do not now nor have I ever owned a mobile phone of any kind, including a smart phone, which I unironically believe is one of the most damnable pieces of technology man has ever conceived. 

Once I left my home last week for Gamehole Con in Madison, Wisconsin, I was effectively incommunicado. Without a phone, no one, not even my family, could reach me. I made prior arrangements with friends to meet me at the airport. However, if my flight were delayed or, as it turned out, arrived twenty minutes early, there was no way to inform them of this fact. The likelihood that there'd be some sort of schedule change either going to or coming back from the convention were high, since I had connecting flights both ways. That I encountered no airline problems was something of a minor miracle.

Of course, until about a quarter-century ago, most people didn't own mobile phones at all and they nevertheless traveled across the globe. Our current era of interconnectedness and instant availability is an aberration in historical terms, but most of us have become intensely accustomed to it, to the point that we can't even imagine anything different than our present circumstances. I know that, before the con, at least a couple of acquaintances asked me to hit them up on Discord when I arrived, so we could coordinate a time and a place to meet. Lacking the means to do that, we had to make do with more primitive means of meeting up. Fortunately, Gamehole Con is small enough that finding someone isn't that hard, if you're sufficiently motivated.

Of course, my friends all have smart phones, so I could simply borrow theirs to quickly check my email or Discord messages. In fact, I tried to do so. I say "tried," because, when I made the attempt, Discord noticed I was doing so from a location different from my usual one. To log in, I'd need to enter a code sent to my email address to confirm my identity. Alas, getting into my email proved similarly difficult, as Gmail, too, recognized I was not in my usual location and would only allow me to use it if I sent it a code that it had sent to my backup email address. Guess what happened next? That's right: an endless circle of dual factor authentication I could not circumvent by any means. 

Similarly, when I checked in at the con to collect my badge, I expected I'd also be given physical tickets for my various events, as I had in the past. Nope! I'm not sure when Gamehole Con transitioned to virtual tickets – it must have been sometime after 2018, when I last attended – but, whenever it was, I was now expected to make use of a smart phone to demonstrate my having paid and signed up for my events. I was able to rectify this with the organizers, who took pity upon me and printed out some tickets for me to carry around. However, the fact remains that Gamehole Con, like almost everything these days, simply takes it for granted that I must, of course, have a smart phone.

What's fascinating is that nearly everyone I encountered who learned of my lack of a phone expressed wistful admiration of me. "I wish I could do that!" or some variation of it were common statements. And the truth is that there are many benefits to not having a phone, especially at a convention. For instance, I was never once distracted by calls or notifications, as were too many people, even during games. I was free to focus on the matter at hand. When I was distracted, it was by something happening nearby in the real world, like the hoots and hollers of a nearby table, as a player rolled well (or badly) or as a man dressed as an orc and carrying a large ax walked by. I got to experience Gamehole Con unfiltered, unmediated by anything but my own senses. It was wonderful.

That's why I went to the convention, after all: to be present. I don't want to sound like some New Age guru spouting off platitudes about mindfulness, but I do think we too often miss out on valuable interactions and experiences because we're distracted by the ever-present allure of technology. The number of people I saw at the con sitting down and scrolling through their social media accounts was larger than I'd have liked it to have been (though far less than what I saw in airports or on planes – yikes!). I was in a unique position not to have the option to do this. I had no choice but to be present and aware of everything that was happening around me – and I believe I had a better time because of it.

Additionally, I was completely cut off from the news, whether local, national, international, or even just the news of our shared hobby. I fight against the notion that ignorance is bliss, but I can't that having no knowledge of what was going on in the world beyond what I could see and hear right in front me was a welcome respite, one that enabled me to enjoy myself more fully than I might otherwise have. I was at Gamehole Con to play some RPGs and hang out with friends, both old and new. Focusing on anything else would have been a distraction. Why would I want that?

Thoughts on Gamehole Con 2024 (Prologue)

As I've explained before, I first attended Gamehole Con in 2017 – my first convention since GenCon 2001 (unless one counts OSRCon). I enjoyed the experience enough to go back in 2018. I intended to do so again in 2019 until a run-in with a car at a crosswalk interceded. I also intended to return in 2020, but Fate once more prevented my doing so. By 2021, my nascent habit of attending GHC had been broken and I didn't seriously consider going once more until this year, thanks in no small part to the stated intention of a couple players in my Twilight: 2000 campaign to do so. 

That was the push I needed and I am grateful for it, because I had a blast at the con. Perhaps my favorite part was seeing people in the flesh. Though I've refereed the House of Worms campaign for nine and a half years now, I've met fewer than half of my players in person. Don't misunderstand me: I consider all my online players my friends and am deeply grateful for them and the time they spend with me, but hanging out and gaming at the same table together just feels right and good in ways that simply can't be replicated in a virtual space. Gamehole Con demonstrated this truth again and again.

Among the people I got to hang out and/or roll some dice with whose names you might recognize were:

David "Zeb" Cook: Former TSR designer. Jeff Grubb: Former TSR designer whom I first met years ago.Allen Hammack: Former TSR designer, who refereed me and four others in his classic AD&D modules, The Ghost Tower of Inverness (about which I'll have much more to say later).Jason Hobbs: Host of the Hobbs & Friends and Random Screed podcasts.Mike Mearls: Former WotC designer, now working with Chaosium. He refereed me and several others in a fun RuneQuest adventure scenario.Marc Miller: Creator of my favorite roleplaying game, Traveller, and one the nicest, most gracious people I know in the hobby – a true gentleman.Travis Miller: Fellow blogger, whose Grumpy Wizard site is devoted to sword-and-sorcery literature and old school gaming.Victor Raymond: An old and dear friend of mine, as well as my co-host on the Halls of Blue Illumination podcast.Seth Skorkowsky: Youtuber and author, who played the most awesome Yelmalio cultist in a RuneQuest session. Steve Winter: Former TSR and WotC designer.: Actor and fellow lover of Holmes Basic. There were undoubtedly others whose names I have forgotten – most importantly the wonderful people with whom I played AD&D, Hyperborea, and RuneQuest. They were the reason I went to Gamehole Con. I wanted to be with real, living people, unmediated by technology. I wanted to be able to see them, hear them, and touch them directly with my own senses. At one point, early in the con, I was out for lunch at a local bar with two of the players in my Twilight: 2000 campaign and I was immediately struck by how weird it was to hear their voices without wearing a headset and to see their faces without looking at a screen. Of course, that's not weird at all; it only seemed so because I'd spent so much of the last decade gaming online rather than across a table. Maybe that needs to change.
I left the convention incredibly energized and enthusiastic about this hobby of ours. Lots of ideas and plans – some of them no doubt harebrained – began to percolate in my brain. I'll be talking more about some of them in the days to come. Others I'll keep to myself for a while, since I can't be certain that they'll ever come to fruition (or indeed if they could). What I do know is that I am so glad I decided to return to Gamehole Con after too long an absence. I'm pretty sure I'll be making this an annual pilgrimage. I may also add another con to my schedule next year, too, perhaps GaryCon or North Texas RPG Con, depending on scheduling. If anyone has any thoughts or recommendations about either of them, I'd love to hear them.
More specific posts about my adventures in Madison, Wisconsin will follow in subsequent posts throughout the week.

Return

I am now safely returned to my lair, after spending a delightful five days in Madison, Wisconsin at Gamehole Con. I have a lot to share about my time there and the many fellow gamers, both well-known and otherwise, whom I met. Regular posting will resume later today or, more likely, tomorrow, as I'm still recuperating from my travels. 

Off to GHC

As I mentioned previously, I will be attending Gamehole Con this year. I leave for Madison, Wisconsin today and will return on Sunday. It's been several years since I was last at GHC and am looking forward to it, even though I absolutely loathe airline travel. There are quite a few people whom I'm keen to see in the flesh again and I'm sure I'll make the acquaintance many more over the course of the next few days. For the duration of my travels, I'll likely be offline, so I won't be able to answer emails or approve comments on the blog. I likewise won't have any new posts until a day or two after I return, since I'll likely be tired (though not, I hope, afflicted with the dreaded con crud). 

Until then!

The Articles of Dragon: "Languages Rules Leave Lots of Room"

Issue #66 of Dragon (October 1982) includes several different articles related to fantasy languages and their use in Dungeons & Dragons adventures and campaigns. While not all of them are good, several are – or at least are interesting enough that I still remember them after all these years, which is why I'll be devoting a few more posts to them, including today's. The first of these interesting language articles is A.D. Rogan's "Language Rules Leave Lots of Room for Creativity in Your Campaign." It's not the most inspired title by any means, nor does it really convey much about its content. Nevertheless, it does, in my opinion, raise some good questions about languages in (A)D&D and provides some intriguing answers to them.
The first thing one needs to know about this article is it's primarily concerned with linguistics, specifically the connections between languages, their degree of mutual intelligibility, and what sort of information a given language is capable of conveying. That probably sounds hopelessly nerdy, even within the context of RPGs, and it probably is. For a kid like me, who was deeply interested in foreign languages and their development, this was catnip. Add in that Rogan's article includes language trees showing how he imagines some of the demihuman, humanoid, and monster languages relate to one another (and, in some cases, to human languages), I found it really enjoyable.
Consider this language tree, which I hope is at least somewhat legible: Here, Rogan makes connections between Middle Elfin and the languages of elven subspecies, woodland and fairy creatures, and even the secret language of the Druids. As I said above, it's hopelessly nerdy stuff, but simply looking at this language tree tells me a lot about the author's own fantasy setting. Ultimately, that's what makes the article so remarkable: it illustrates how something as specific as languages and their interrelationships can help to define a fantasy setting. 
Of course, Rogan doesn't limit himself to examining language trees, cool as I found that as a kid. He also devotes quite a lot of time to looking at what the AD&D rules say or imply about languages, literacy, and similar questions. As it turns out, the rules say quite a lot about these topics, though rarely in a cohesive way. That makes sense, since most of the comments are scattered across multiple books, written over the course of several years. Further, these comments are usually, like so much in Dungeons & Dragons, ad hoc rules put together to deal with specific problems, like how many languages can a character speak and so forth. Rogan attempts to make sense of them all, or at least raise questions for each referee to consider as he makes his own fantasy setting.
Naturally, I don't agree with all of Rogan's answers. For example, he assumes that members of the monk class must be illiterate, because they are unable to make use of scrolls and lack the thief's read languages ability. That's a defensible, if odd, extrapolation of the AD&D rules and one I don't share. However, it is, in my view, a good illustration of the kinds of things a referee might want to consider as he tackles the question of languages and literacy in his campaign setting, especially if that setting is an original one of his own creation. This article is, therefore, a useful one with a lot of recommend it. As I've said a couple of times already, I thought pretty highly of it in my youth and found, in re-reading it, that it still holds up reasonably well.

Our Toughest Challenge Ever

As if to prove my point, last week's Dark Sun posts have generated a lot of interest, not to mention comments, which I appreciate. Here's another ad for the setting, this time from issue #173 of Dragon (September 1991), the same issue as the Brom cover I previously highlighted.

Looking at this advertisement, I have several thoughts:It's important to remember TSR's D&D novels were very successful for the company, so it's no surprise that the release of the Dark Sun boxed set would also see the release of a novel at the same time, in this case Verdant Passage by Troy Denning. Though I never read any of them, there would eventually be thirteen novels published for Dark Sun during the TSR era.Speaking of TSR, is that not the logo at the bottom right the ugliest the company ever had?Once again, we see this ad emphasizes that Dark Sun is "the toughest AD&D game campaign ever published." I can't help but wonder what this is about. Was there a perception at the time that TSR's other settings, like Dragonlance or the Forgotten Realms, were "easy" or otherwise inadequate to the tastes of AD&D fans? My recollection, albeit from more than three decades ago, was that the 2e era was concerned far more with "story" and similar things, so I wouldn't have expected much clamor for a "challenging" setting. Perhaps that's the explanation? Could it have been that there some segment of the game's fans who felt the game had strayed too much from its roots and wanted a setting where death was ever-present? I wish I knew.

Wulfwald Bundle of Holding

Most people who read this blog are probably already familiar with the Bundle of Holding, which offers limited-time sales of tabletop RPGs in PDF form at bargain prices, with a portion of the revenue going to various charities. It's a great way to take a chance on a game or game line that interests you without having to blow a huge amount of money to do so. I've made use of it a few times myself and have never regretted it.

That's why I wanted to draw your attention to a new one that I think many readers will appreciate: Wulfwald. It's a low-fantasy, old school RPG inspired by Anglo-Saxon myths and legends. I bought a print copy of the game a couple of weeks ago and love it. I'm in the midst of writing a review for it, which I hope to have finished before I leave for Gamehole Con next week. However, the sale only runs until October 17 and I wanted to alert everyone to it now, in the event I don't complete that review before I depart.

For only $5.95, you get all five rulebooks in PDF form, along with an electronic black-and-white regional map of the game world drawn by the late, great Russ Nicholson. At that price, I think it's more than worth it and I highly recommend it to anyone fascinated by early medieval Britain.