James L. Cambias's Blog, page 32

Time to Clean House

Academics worried about "anti-intellectualism" in modern society need to realize that the modern system of research universities and scholarly journals needs some serious housecleaning. Read this article to see why. Until scholars can muster the courage to stop encouraging and defending fashionable nonsense, the rot will continue.

Random Encounters: The Underground World

No, not the familiar roleplaying realm of 10-foot grid squares and angsty Drow. This is the underworld of pulp adventure! In giant caves and artificial tunnels, three factions war for supremacy: the sadistic Deros, masters of ancient super-science; the dreaded Fungus Vampires; and the primordial Cthonians. Explorers may find their way down here through natural caves, or aboard a mechanical mole machine. Getting out is the hard part.

ENCOUNTERS UNDERGROUND

(Roll 1d20 when moving, 1d10 when stationary.)

Roll Twice and Combine
Plot Advancing Encounter: Someone or something related to the reason the heroes are underground in the first place.
Bugs! A swarm of mutant cockroaches capable of generating (and withstanding) high temperatures. Anyone within the swarm takes burning damage, and gear made of cloth or paper may catch fire.
Cthonian: A huge silicon-skinned worm with tentacles and a hostile intellect. It cannot speak but can write with acid on the rocks. There is a 50 percent chance it is hungry, and desires only to eat the party, but otherwise it will try to force or bribe humans into serving it.
Dero Raiding Party: 2d6 Deros patrolling the caverns in search of runaways, fungal encroachments, or intruders from the Upper World. Half are armed with nerve-whips, the others have flamethrowers.
Flood! A sudden surge of water fills the cave you're in. Swim for the exit or risk being swept away.
Fungus Vampires: Once members of the Ahnenerbe-SS Hollow Earth expedition of 1940, they are now 1d6 gray brittle monstrosities desperate to feed on living tissue.
Giant Salamander: It's big, hungry, and relentless. Though blind, it can sense vibrations and follow a trail by scent, and it can squeeze through any opening.
Runaway Slave: A captive of the Deros who decided the chance of freedom was worth the risk. He bears the scars of horrifying surgeries inflicted as punishment, and knows a lot about the hidden empire of the Deros.
Tremor! Rocks fall as the earth shakes and shifts. Once the immediate danger is over, you may find old passages blocked and new ones created.
Ancient Passages: Artificial tunnels thousands of years old. The carvings on the walls reveal disturbing truths about the origin of humanity.
Dero City: A huge cave lit by radium lamps, filled by a labyrinthine city of gold and obsidian. 2d6 thousand Deros live here, with twice that number of slaves. Assume 1/20 of the Deros are trained soldiers armed with flamethrowers or nerve-whips.
Egg Chamber: A room holding 3d6 Cthonian eggs. Harming them makes you a giant superintelligent worm enemy for life. But Deros will pay well for them in slaves or ancient super-tech.
Fungus Hunters: 2d6 Fungus Vampires pursuing you. The Fungus Intelligence wants something and won't give up until it gets it.
Gas Cave: A cave full of methane. You start to feel dizzy after 1d6 minutes, and will pass out and suffocate if you can't get out. And if you have any open flame with you . . . BOOM!
Nazi Tunnel Machine: The Ahnenerbe-SS Bohrwagen,long since rusted into immobility. But inside there are usable machine-pistols, drinking water, canned meat, and sealed packets of hardtack. A clever technician can make use of the machine's parts, and it's possible the crew cached some loot here before the Fungus Intelligence took them.
Spiders: A cave full of webs and giant albino spiders.
Trap! (Roll 1d6) 1-3: Dero Psychic Field prevents you from leaving, 4-5: Fungus Spore Bomb infects you, 6: Crude Snare tangles you for 1d6 rounds.
Underground River: A swift and cold river, big enough for boats. Getting across it is a challenge, and one can only sail downstream. Where does it lead? There is a 50 percent chance that swimmers will attract Giant Salamanders or blind cave piranhas.
Tracks: Roll again to see what passed recently.

SITUATIONS UNDERGROUND

(Roll 1d6 for a situation, then roll on the table above to determine the parties involved.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants X

What I Saw On Facebook Yesterday

"In its second minute the Hate rose to a frenzy. People were leaping up and down in their places and shouting at the tops of their voices in an effort to drown the maddening bleating voice that came from the screen. The little sandy-haired woman had turned bright pink, and her mouth was opening and shutting like that of a landed fish. Even O'Brien's heavy face was flushed. He was sitting very straight in his chair, his powerful chest swelling and quivering as though he were standing up to the assault of a wave. The dark-haired girl behind Winston had begun crying out 'Swine! Swine! Swine!' and suddenly she picked up a heavy Newspeak dictionary and flung it at the screen. It struck Goldstein's nose and bounced off; the voice continued inexorably. In a lucid moment Winston found that he was shouting with the others and kicking his heel violently against the rung of his chair. The horrible thing about the Two Minutes Hate was not that one was obliged to act a part, but, on the contrary, that it was impossible to avoid joining in. Within thirty seconds any pretence was always unnecessary. A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledge-hammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one's will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic."

��� George Orwell, 1984

"Smart" Cities

First read this article, a summary and critique of some current "smart city" projects.

The author unfortunately kind of skates around the main, fundamental problem with most of the projects he describes. They're completely antithetical to the way cities actually grow. Quite simply, you can't build a city. Maybe if your name is Stalin and you're relocating Soviet industry east of the Urals because the Nazis are invading you can make it work, but usually planned cities are failures. The successful cities, the ones that last centuries or millennia, grow from the bottom up. They aren't the work of some Master Planner, they're the result of thousands ��� millions ��� of individual decisions. 

I thought we'd settled that question back when Jane Jacobs was still around, but I guess some lessons have to be learned over and over. The sad thing is that the people learning the lesson aren't the ones who suffer when their planned cities fail, it's the people who have to live there.

Random Encounters: Elizabethan London

The Virgin Queen is on the throne, Drake harries the Spanish at sea, and Walsingham counters their plots at home. Somehow, England is becoming a superpower, and London is at the heart of it all. In the narrow, filthy streets, noblemen rub elbows with footpads, while spies and poets drink together in the taverns. You can run into anyone in Queen Elizabeth's London. 

ENCOUNTERS IN ELIZABETHAN LONDON

(Roll 1d20 when moving about the city, 1d10 when stationary.)

Roll twice and Combine
Plot Advancing Encounter: Someone or something related to whatever brought you to London.
Barber: He's going door-to-door offering his services. These include a smooth shave, boils lanced, all the latest gossip, and possibly some throat-cutting if your enemies have paid him well.
Dogs: A pack of 2d6 feral dogs, and something has riled them up.
Drunken Sailors: They've blown all their pay on cheap wine, and now they're out on the street looking for (1) women, (2) more wine, or money to acquire (1) and (2).
Mountebank: He's selling magical charms and remedies, served up with an impressive line of patter.
Nobleman: Roll 1d6. On a 1-2 this is a gentleman incognito, his costly clothing hidden under a drab cloak. On a 3-4 it's a pair of noblemen out for an evening's entertainment. On a 5-6 it's a great lord and his entourage on horseback.
Spy: Roll 1d6. On a 1-3, this is one of Sir Francis Walsingham's counterintelligence agents. On a 4-5 it's a Spanish operative, and on a 6 it's a French spy. Any spy will have a cover identity, of course.
Tempest: More than the usual London drizzle; this is heavy rain and wind fit to knock down chimney-pots. Only a fool would be out on the streets in such weather.
Thieves: 1d6 men armed with cudgels, who want your valuables. If you have any important documents they want those, too.
Angry Mob: Somehow a rumor got started that you're a Spanish spy, or maybe a Jesuit, or possibly a witch. Maybe all three. Anyway, there's 2d6 times 10 people chasing you with mayhem in mind, and more joining all the time.
Bailiff: You have unpaid debts, and this man has come to detain you until they are paid. You can come along quietly, or his 1d6 followers armed with clubs will rough you up.
Bridewell: Once a royal palace, now used to house vagrants, debtors, and "disorderly women." The place is in terrible shape and looks like an awful firetrap. It's a big building full of odd additions and temporary construction, so anyone could stay hidden here for days.
Cattle: A herd of beef on the hoof, being driven to Smithfield for slaughter and sale. You'll have to wait for them to pass, which will take ten minutes at least, or risk cutting through the herd.
Den of Thieves: This tavern is a notorious haven for highwaymen, footpads, bandits, and pirates. Anyone who looks suspicious or well-off will get a hostile reception.
Fire! A house is ablaze, and the flames are starting to threaten nearby structures. There may be people trapped inside ��� and a large crowd is gathering in the street.
Player: A young fellow up from the provinces, who is a decent actor and a promising writer. He'll get involved in any goings-on if there's a chance of profit.
St. Paul's Cathedral: Not the one built by Wren, this is a vast medieval Gothic church. It's a center of trade and culture as well as faith: the city's booksellers have taken over the churchyard, and other vendors cluster around the doors.
Strangers: 1d6 men and women with strange accents (and barbarous grammar), who seem oddly obsessed with Court politics and the theatrical world. Their clothing is new and perfectly clean, and they all have perfect teeth. Are they spies? If assailed they can defend themselves with pepper spray and tasers.
Tracks/Aftermath: Roll again to see what you find traces of (in the case of specific buildings, you find tracks leading in that direction).

SITUATIONS IN ELIZABETHAN LONDON

(Roll 1d6, then use the table above to determine the identities of A and B.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants an object.

What Should Have Been

I think enough time has passed since the movie Avengers: Infinity War came out that I can reveal this thought I had, without getting in trouble for revealing things people haven't seen yet. Spoilers away!

You may recall at the very end of the film, after the credits, there's a sequence involving Nick Fury and his loyal deputy experiencing the results of Thanos's plan to eliminate half the population of the Universe. Before he disintegrates, Fury hits the button on some kind of super-pager gadget, and we see on the little screen a display of the starburst emblem worn by Marvel's version of Captain Marvel.

And yet . . . 

I know the deal hadn't been made when that footage was shot, but . . . 

In my heart I know it wasn't a starburst emblem on Fury's pager.

It was a blue-and-white number 4.

Random Encounters: Monster Island!

No one's exactly sure where Monster Island lies. Those secretive government men in sunglasses made sure it's omitted from the charts. It may be off Siberia, or in the Indian Ocean. It may even be a peninsula. Nobody knows for sure.

What we do know is that it had a thriving native ecosystem of giant creatures, most of them surprisingly aggressive. During the postwar era it became the perfect dumping-ground for invaders from space, radiation-spawned monstrosities, and the work of mad scientists.

Unfortunately the coverup worked a little too well. The people in charge of keeping Monster Island a secret forgot to pass key information to their successors. Only a few people even suspect it exists any more, and none of them know where it is or how to find it.

Which means any island you come across might just be . . . MONSTER ISLAND!

ENCOUNTERS ON MONSTER ISLAND

(Roll 1d20 when exploring or being chased, 1d10 when encamped.)

Roll twice and combine
Plot Advancing Encounter: Someone or something related to the reason you came to Monster Island ��� or to getting off of Monster Island again.
The Big Guy: The biggest monster on the island, probably trademarked. You know which one I mean. Not even the whole Japanese Self-Defense Force can stop it.
Blob Monster: It's a titanic mass of gelatinous flesh, oozing along and consuming everything in its path. You can outrun it ��� but for how long?
Mad Scientist: He's got a string of advanced degrees, a white lab coat, thick goggles, and epic hair. Some or all of the monsters do his bidding. And you're exactly what he needs for his latest project!
Storm! For 1d6 hours the island is lashed with high winds and powerful rain. None of the creatures seek shelter ��� instead the weather seems to make them even more aggressive.
Super-Apes: 2d6 Gorillas with human intelligence and a bad attitude. They may serve the Mad Scientist, or they may have rebelled against him as the first step toward conquering all humans.
Sylvia Scientist: The brilliant and lovely daughter of the Mad Scientist, she is much more sympathetic. Her own projects are conveniently portable, because she wants more than anything to leave the island.
Wicked Weasels: A swarm of fierce, flesh-ripping weasels!
Time-Lost Explorers: 1d4 travelers whose routine expedition somehow went awry, stranding them here. They may be from the past, or the future ��� or possibly they are the future selves of the player-characters!
Crab Canyon: It looks safe, until the big white "boulders" start to move and you realize this is where 1d6 Giant Crabs make their home.
Crashed Plane: It's a C-130, crashed here some time in the 1970s. The radio doesn't work and the plane will never fly again, but it does provide shelter, the first-aid kit is intact, and the cargo is just what you need right now!
Cyclopean Ruins: They're exceedingly ancient, maybe pre-human. The worn carvings show monsters you've already met, but they're fleeing something which isn't shown. There's a big stone door with a complicated seal on it ��� what's behind it?
Giant Spiderweb: This section of jungle is swathed in sticky strands tougher than steel. 2d6 Giant Spiders can sense if you're cutting a path, and will come hungrily to see what's struggling in their web.
Log Bridge: The path crosses a deep chasm, and you have a choice. Use the slippery log bridge, which large monsters could knock down into the abyss? Or swing across on vines ��� one of which is probably a big snake?
Non-Euclidian Zone: The geometry of this part of the island is bizarre. Distances are distorted, paths loop through time and space, and it's almost impossible to avoid getting lost.
Plesiosaur: The lake looks placid, but a Plesiosaur is lurking under the surface, ready to lash out with its long neck and snatch prey from passing boats.
Pursuers: Hungry dinosaurs are chasing you! Roll 1d10 to see what. 1-3: 1d4 Allosauruses, 4-7: 2d6 Velociraptors, 8: Lone Tyrannosaur, 9-10: Flock of 2d6 Pterodactyls*.
Volcano Erupts! The traditional sign that it's time to get the heck off the island. If you've only just arrived, this is merely a precursor to the eruption that will sink the place. Perfectly normal, nothing to be concerned about. If you've been chased around already, this is the Big One.
Tracks/Aftermath: Roll again to see what you find traces of.

*I know, they're reptiles, not dinosaurs. Sheesh.

Mars Cops!

Here's a neat article in (of all places) The Atlantic, about "How Mars Will Be Policed." I wish I'd had this when I was writing GURPS Mars, although it's fun to see that my own wild-ass guesses reasoning pretty much matches the conclusions of experts.

Random Encounters: Aboard the Generation Ship

Travel between the stars takes a long time. Your ship has been voyaging for centuries, and centuries remain before it reaches the destination world. Unfortunately, over that kind of timespan, things can break down: ship systems, information storage, civilization . . .

The ship is huge, with vast habitat areas containing transplated ecosystems from Earth. Some of the organisms were genetically modified before the voyage began, and some have mutated. All are feral and many are dangerous. Even more dangerous are the rival tribes: the arrogant Komans, the warlike Scuridi, the horribly-mutated Tex, and the fanatical Virons.

ENCOUNTERS ABOARD THE GENERATION SHIP

(Roll 1d20 when moving about the ship, 1d10 when stationary.)

Roll twice and combine
Plot advancing encounter: Something related to whatever led you to venture beyond your village and explore the ship's wild spaces.
Bees! A huge swarm of bees, moving with deadly purpose. Their stings are supposedly non-venomous, but enough pinprick jabs can add up to real harm. The swarm is sentient and wishes to destroy any animals in the area. It gets less intelligent as the swarm takes damage.
Bodoc: An ancient medical robot, still loyal to its programming and eager to help humans. It can repair most injuries or acute medical conditions in a few hours, but there is a 10 percent chance that it only makes the problem worse.
Control Terminal: It has a touch-screen displaying controls and data in a language nobody reads any more. Fooling with it can have all sorts of results, from comic to deadly. But it's worth tryng because sometimes a terminal leads to fantastic treasure.
Cyanists: Some of the reclusive keepers of secret knowledge, feared by all the other tribes. They take samples and notes, and occasionally capture interesting-looking "ferals" for study. There are 1d6 Cyanists aboard a hover-platform, accompanied by a powerful robot armed with a particle blaster.
Life-Support Malfunction: A sudden spell of weather, completely wrong for the local environment (snow in a jungle area, sandstorms in a swamp, etc.). The weird weather lasts 1d6 hours, but the effects can last for days.
Mutant Rooster: It's as tall as a man, armed with a beak and vicious spurs, and it furiously attacks anything that doesn't look like a giant hen.
Strucker: A big construction robot, far gone in malfunctioning madness. It knows that people live in houses, so it attempts to grab any human it encounters and stuff them into one of the houses it has built. Inside there are the bones of previous occupants.
War Band: 2d6 members of an enemy tribe, armed with spears and bows. There is a 10 percent chance that the leader has an air-gun and 1d6 explosive bullets. If the warriors are Tex, there is a 20 percent chance that the leader has a laser gun instead.
Bandit Camp: You've stumbled across 2d6 bandits sharing a meal. Talk fast, draw your weapons, or start running!
Cargo Container: Everyone knows these white 3-meter cubes hold all sorts of valuable goods. Unfortunately, this one conceals 1d4 warriors of a rival tribe armed with metal swords.
Ghosts: An old holographic entertainment zone has activated again, so now you're menaced by intangible projections from an ancient Earth game. Use any other Random Encounters table to see what you see.
Intruders: There's a hole in the ground and 1d6 strange beings are climbing out of it to look around. They have six limbs, no heads, and wear sealed spacesuits. They're trying to figure out what this huge alien spaceship is doing near their home star system.
Pursuit! 1d6 enemy warriors riding a stolen hover-platform are after you.
Radiation Zone: The shielding here failed a long time ago, so now even the soil is mildly radioactive. Camping here produces long-term health problems, and living here leads to mutations in your descendants.
Ruin: This multi-family house was abandoned when the power systems failed. It still contains some forgotten personal items and tools, but the nearest tribe considers it sacred ground, taboo to outsiders.
Trading Post: A hatch to the service passages where the Tex tribe lives. A small settlement has grown up around the hatch, and the locals trade food for technological goods.
Tree-Puss: Not a cat at all, but a mutant octopus which climbs trees, using its camouflage to hide until prey passes below. It's quite smart and knows that humans have vulnerable necks just right for a couple of powerful tentacles to grab.
Tracks/Aftermath: Roll again to see what you just missed.

SITUATIONS ABOARD THE GENERATION SHIP

(Roll 1d6 to determine the situation, then roll 1d20 on the table above to figure out who's involved.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants X.

Those Movies We Love

Who does Star Wars belong to? Well, legally, the answer is "The Walt Disney Company," because they paid George Lucas four billion dollars for his company Lucasfilm, which owned the Star Wars trademarks and copyrights. End of story.

Except . . .

One of the reasons Lucasfilm was worth four billion dollars to the mighty empire of the Mouse was that Star Wars has fans. A lot of fans. A lot of very dedicated fans. In fact, it has a fandom ��� a community of fans, who don't just watch the movies. They play the games, they buy the merchandise, they make costumes, they write fan fiction, they create fan art, they create fan music, and they have helped to turn one movie into a giant multimedia juggernaut. And that giant media juggernaut includes legions of sub-creators, who have done their own part to expand and develop the universe of Star Wars ��� from stars like Timothy Zahn and Kevin Anderson down to tiny cog people toiling for obscure tabletop game publishers. Where do all of them fit in?

Again, legally, they own nothing. Back in the day, every Star Wars roleplaying game pitch ��� not the finished article but the "how does this sound?" pitch ��� had to be accompanied by no fewer than five signed assignment of copyright documents. Every random idea submitted to the editor belonged to Lucasfilm, whether or not it was used. Such an arrangement isn't really unusual. All tie-in novels and comics are written as "work for hire," meaning the writer has no claim to ownership, any more than he would if he was writing catalog copy or press releases.

But that's all about the legal ownership. Who has the moral ownership? Who has the right to decide what is and what isn't Star Wars?

Back when George Lucas owned Lucasfilm, he was the final authority. He invented Star Wars, so if he decided that Jedi Knights got their powers from symbiotic microorganisms in the bloodstream, well, then, that was that. One might grouse about the directions he was taking his work, but there was never any doubt that it was his.

That changed when Disney bought Lucasfilm. It became very clear, very quickly, that Mr. Lucas's input was neither desired nor encouraged. The four movies released by Disney since the takeover were written and directed by teams of high-priced hired guns brought in separately for each project. And the results, let us say, have been mixed. One genuinely good movie (Rogue One), two which have been described as adequate (The Force Awakens and Solo), and one which was a tremendous disappointment to almost everyone (The Last Jedi).

One of the things which the fans found especially disappointing about these films ��� especially The Last Jedi ��� was the way they deliberately jettisoned forty years' worth of "canon." Said "canon" consisting of all the diligent cog people work in books, comics, and games; not to mention the fan fiction and what is sometimes called "head canon."

Many fans complained that the new films simply weren't "real" Star Wars. Disney naturally pushed back, but did so in a rather ham-fisted way which only alienated fans even more.

So . . . who does Star Wars belong to?

I've got some bad news. Star Wars belongs to The Walt Disney Company, and it will belong to them until they sell it. (Sure, the copyrights may expire in fifty-odd years, but the trademarks won't. Star Wars is a trademarked brand, kids.) Star Wars is whatever they say it is. Period.

This points up a rather hard lesson which I think it is important for all of us to learn. Don't fall in love with someone else's creation. Sure, you can enjoy it, but it will never be yours (unless you can scrape up a few billion dollars to buy it). Which means that to a great extent all the love and effort the fans and tiny cog people have put into expanding the Star Wars universe should have gone into creating their own original work. Unless Disney's paying you, why are you acting as volunteer marketing for their product by dressing up in a Stormtrooper or Slave Leia outfit? Why not create your own Star Soldier or Alien Slave Girl outfit? Maybe you can make something better. That's how George Lucas started out ��� he couldn't get the rights to Flash Gordon so he came up with his own space opera adventure. Go and do likewise.