The Piper's Corner

Well it seems that our 1st freebie issue of the Piper's Corner got overlooked by many as we had it buried in an obscure section of our site and wayyy at the bottom of the page. Though we have corrected this, I am presenting the link here for those who may have missed it: Pipers Corner #1.

This will be an irregularly produced e-newsletter which publication will coincide with releases from us. I am open to creative content suggestions as well, as we will produce a limited number of articles from outside designers and fans, but please query me at rjk@pied-piper-publishing.com on that.

Vampirism Revamped

Vampires as we commonly imagine them are sourced from the folklore of 18^th century Southeastern Europe. Variations of the vampire-like demons and other manifestations trace back thousands of years, but our stereotypical perception of these undead is largely the result of popular fiction and cinema. There is little doubt that Bram Stoker's Dracula is the most readily conjured image when one considers vampires. Further cementing and popularizing this brand of vampire was the 1931 horror film, Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi.

In the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons game, the accepted paradigm of vampirism was embraced and utilized by Gary Gygax, and David Trampier's illustration at once reminds us of Bela Lugosi peering over his cloak-wrapped arm bent at the elbow. Indeed, Gygax touches on many of the popularized attributes of the modern vampire when he states the following:

"...These creatures must rest in a coffin or similar receptacle during hours of sunlight..."

Gygax's AD&D vampire drinks blood, can shape change into a bat, and can charm with its gaze; it also recoils from garlic, the face of a mirror, or a cross (or other holy symbol). They can be killed by sunlight or if a wooden stake is driven through its heart, followed by a beheading. Of course, some AD&D-isms are included, such as the vampire being subject only to magical weapons, an 18/76 strength, and the fact that it can be turned by a high level cleric, but these gaming components are adroitly woven into the presentation.

Whilst the standardized representation of the vampire works perfectly well within the framework of the AD&D game, I must admit I have personally grown rather jaded by this take on vampires. Fiction and film have likewise reduced the vampire to one of triteness for me, perhaps in part due to the voluminous amount of vampire "chick-lit" crowding the shelves of local book store chains. Stephen King's Salem's Lot was a fresh deviation from the paradigm, and so I held it in high esteem as a young man, and to some degree I still do. There are, however, two 20^th century authors who portray some of the most thought provoking deviations to the popular notion of vampirism. They are HP Lovecraft and Clark Ashton Smith.

The Shunned House (written 1924, published 1937) by Howard Phillips Lovecraft and Genius Loci (1933) by Clark Ashton Smith challenge our modern notion of the vampire. Gone is the stereotypical image wrought by Bram Stoker, where the vampire has humanlike form and motivation. What Lovecraft and Smith respectively accomplish is the creation of a nonstandard form of vampirism. It is not my intention to summarize these stories point by point, for I feel that readers of this article would derive greater enjoyment by experiencing each tale for themselves. Notwithstanding, I would have to stop writing now were I to completely avoid any "spoiler" material.

In each tale the respective author takes the concept of vampirism and applies it to an a malign force or entity, a wraith-like manifestation that drains its human victims, evoking, in my opinion, greater fear and madness than any man with fangs and cloak could ever accomplish.Whilst Stoker's Dracula (and its many and sundry derivatives) has a palpable form and identity, Lovecraft and Smith present a vampire that can scarcely be quantified on such terms; indeed, what each author has accomplished is the manufacture of a nameless horror that depletes its victims and reduces them to shells of their former selves as they plunge into sheer insanity and, eventually, death.

In The Shunned House and Genius Loci, respectively, the vampire is presented as an incorporeal entity that feeds off its victims, distorts perceptions, and inspires aberrant behavior. Each vampiric entity is distinctive, as is the style and execution of each author. Of the two I feel that HPL more closely touches upon the sort of vampire popularized by Stoker, but only in the broadest of strokes. All who dwell in The Shunned House, generation after generation, suffer various forms of wasting diseases, anaemia, and mild forms of insanity. The closest Lovecraft comes to Stoker's vampirism (and the folklore from which Stoker derived his inspiration) is when he writes the following:

"...an appallingly grisly circumstance whose duplication was remarkable. It seems that in both instances the dying person...became transfigured in a horrible way; glaring glassily and attempting to bite the throat of the attending physician."

Smith, for his own part, explores what begins as a landscape artist's morbid fascination with a boggy meadow of disturbing quality. Fascination soon escalates to a species of mesmerization or enthrallment that can not be defied. Smith's vampire is perhaps more of a formless entity than Lovecraft's, but both are presented with a focus on a locale that suffers the manifestation of some preternatural malevolence. Notwithstanding, the semblance of a physical form is observed near the end of The Shunned House, particularly when the narrator notes the

"...unthinkable abnormality whose titan elbow I had seen."

But in Genius Loci we never actually see a physical form made manifest, and at length the horror is observed when the narrator relates the following:

"The true horror lay in that thing, which, from a little distance, I had taken for the coils of a slowly moving and rising mist. It was not vapor, nor anything else that could conceivably exist -- that malign, luminous, pallid emanation that enfolded the entire scene before me..."

Exploring vampirism as an environmental event, hazard, or location as opposed to a palpable enemy combatant is an intriguing option for a swords & sorcery role-playing game adventure, and as I type this article, I am inspired by its myriad possibilities. A location that drains its inhabitants of their vitality . . . Might it affect the family of a PC, or some notable villagers whom the local clergy seem unable to assist? Perhaps the PCs themselves are the afflicted by the manifestation. How can such an entity be exorcised? The PCs might have to engage upon some harrowing quest to obtain an artifact that might vanquish the vampiric haunting, or if not some artifact, the clandestine knowledge that might reveal some form of ritual that would banish the affliction. For a more combat oriented adventure, below the locale there might be vast catacombs where past victims dwell in various states of undeath. Perhaps the entity drains from its victims to give itself physical form, some underworld titan vampire as hinted at in The Shunned House.

Experimenting with alternative forms of vampirism could enrich your game, keep your players on their toes, and prevent them from the using meta-knowledge to combat an otherwise stereotypical enemy. I think I might start working on such an adventure soon . . .

(Jeffrey Talanian, 2009)

Keep it Simple... Yet let Creativity and Imagination Soar

I thought that an article I wrote for Crusader Magazine several years ago might be of interest for those who have not read it.

Mimir's Well

Games As Fun?
© 2009 Robert J. Kuntz.

by Rob Kuntz


Imagine this...

The first day you discovered games. Really discovered them. Like: Wow, this stuff is great! Where can I get a copy? Remember that day? You were hooked. There was a feeling of never ever having been there before and an equal feeling of wanting to find that road again. To walk, nope, run along it pell-mell. You couldn't wait, remember?

Now imagine this...

The first day you discovered FRPG. It was like someone had let the floodgates loose, right? So much at once and not enough at the same time. And as a new participant it was all strange but exciting. There were hints of dragons, treasures and undiscovered lands. Strange places where you could roam, where your imagination was to be given a range of expression. Someone was asking for your input instead of you just rolling dice and moving about a track! How wonderful! Then they plopped lots of rules down and you remember groaning... But it was just so strange and wonderful that you continued despite the numerous rules (which you learned to choose from, condense, or change to your liking, anyway, god bless those designers with foresight).

Now, let us proceed with a surmise...

You stare at a game-store's shelf replete with myriad choices of games to purchase. What you want is condensed fun in FRPG form. It must come with minimal instructions, allow you to provide the additives, such as using your imagination to add to it and learn and enjoy as you interface with its rules set. The learning curve must be simple but have breadth. The only obstacle would be in finding other fellows who want to enjoy a simple game like you do. It sounds too good, you say? Why yes, it is; but that's what a good RPG is all about isn't it? Simple, unadulterated, fun in a style reminiscent of the days of FRPG in all its golden glory.

Let us rewind a bit...

Before there were massive rules sets to define the military actions of regimental-sized combats, a fellow by the name of H. G. Wells created a simplistic game called "Little Wars". I had a chance to play LW at a convention one year, and oh boy, was it fun! Toothpicks shot from spring-loaded cannons! It took me back to my days of youth, which some say we cannot recapture. While some games today have progressed beyond this point and have matured the hobby, some others have also mutated the idea of a game, and thus gaming, into drudgery. Somewhere in between games being too simple (rock-paper-scissors) or ultra-complex (insert your War and Peace-sized game here) is where the maximum "fun factor" lies, hidden like a treasure waiting to be discovered and enjoyed by all.

Some folks might challenge the idea that in keeping a game simple--especially an RPG--that you maximize its fun factor. But in the realm of FRPG, imagination is King. Without it there is no game, notwithstanding the rules used. FRP games are only as good as the people who play them. Then too those same players are only as good as their expressed imaginations. No rulebook can cover everything in life, and thus we find this constant reflected in the earliest and most successful FRP games. If there was a rule for everything in such games for your imagination, then we would soon find less reason to participate in the game, less incentive to find our own creative range, and we would certainly derive less enchantment from the experience. The very things we wish to cultivate would thus be driven from us or voided.

In other words, RPG rules should guide only. Participants should ultimately decide on direction, intensity and types of rules to be utilized. Some are basic, the types you need to actually play the game in its most simplistic and skeletonized form. Beyond that you have the additives which allow for everyone involved in its ongoing process to use to their liking. This is the base idea on which our industry was built and which Gary Gygax promulgated in his earliest written works. Simple. Fun. Mutable. This core idea has lost none of its former potency or flavor, but is in fact beginning to resurface in many games, such as in TLG's forthcoming Castles & Crusades.

Back to the present...

Many designers today, like myself, have to take hard looks at their proposed works while answering base questions every time: Is what I'm writing/designing going to be fun to play? What is the learning curve for the players? How is it different or better? Moreover, does it remain a game or just a bunch of rules piled on top of each other? These are games, not realistic portrayals or some new form of art. These are fun-filled escapades into the imaginations of those playing them. So, yes, they must contain guidelines which help us on our way to enjoy and participate in a process, but these should not limit the range of each players imaginative expression. That's where enchantment roots and is expressed through participating in the story, not in some dice roll which is only the tool of the player for determining outcomes during that process. Likewise each game designer is faced with avoiding endless details or page upon page of litanous description which ultimately bores the participants. We must always remember that we escape the real world for that dose of enchantment for the time in which we are playing. Does the game then present roads easily taken to find the fun, the enchantment, or are there unnecessary hurdles involved?

KISS

"Keep it Simple Stupid." An old saying, but one which should be remembered by game designers and GMs. Finding this balance is a chore. It's an adventure in itself. But we have indicators, and they face us during play each and every time--the players. I'll guarantee that your players are having fun if they're working their imaginations as opposed to endlessly rolling dice and moving about the "track" of the game. It'll be revealed in their looks, by their excited interjections and by their intensities. It can be described as being enchanted, but in the end, it's just a whole barrel o' fun.

Wither DnD??--EDITORIAL

Well, it never died, but not for lack of of certain companies trying, it seems. Most people know that I am an Elder (not Old School, never quite agreed with the many, too many connotations associated with that word, though I let it pass when applied to me, whatever) of the creative sort. My grounding was in games: miniatures, board games, parlor games, then RPG with OD&D (but also AD&D 1E & 2E, 3E, 3.5, C&C). Most people today would take that OD&D part and run with it, figuring I was some old fart or such (well, at times, but I thought I closed the blinds then when nodding off with my wool blanky and rocking chair)... I was the youngest of the three who shaped the game early on. When asked by Flint Dille at GaryCon1 what exactly had I contributed to the game, and in front of Luke and Elise Gygax, I related a part, that when Gary was stuck balancing the upcoming classes for Greyhawk Supplement #1 to D&D that he called me at Don Kaye's house, requesting help (I had already handed in my parts for the MS, but was still there for my ole buddy and pal, of course). He was worried about hit dice. Every class in OD&D got a d6 per level, so MU's seemed on par with fighters but had spells (our biggest worry). Well it simply blurt from me over the phone that we should use d8 for fighters, d6 for clerics and thieves and d4 for MUs (later changed in AD&D to d10 for fighters and so on).

Boy has the game come a "long way" since then. I must admit to sharing the view here expressed at this fine blog hosted by Tim Knight, and that about D&D 4th Rendition. It's not that we can't reinvent the wheel whenever this is needed, but why? Errr. Money? Again, I embrace free enterprise (just don't want it to embrace me too hard), so I am not against companies who creatively and earnestly seek dollars. But at what expense has this been bought in the past?

I am afraid these days that such appellations as "Fantasy Role Playing Games," and as compared to D&D here and present, are losing ground as by-products of their two most important words: Fantasy & Games. Fantasy is the enchantment that led us to play to begin with; and the game is what keeps us there. Drain the life out of either of these two ideas and you are left with a shell, a ghost of both at best, and those that attach to it and call it the "gift," their eyes perhaps twinkling all the way to the bank.

In my upcoming book of interrelated essays (The Rise and Fall of TSR Hobbies: It's Impact Upon the Fantasy Fiction and FRPG Markets) I most strongly assert the above statements and then some, while offering remedies. Unfortunately, I have yet another essay to include in that book as the tally is in and WotC once again proves that their fantasy and Games are lacking. One could take exception with this as always, and one can always find the road that is best suited to travel. But I must voice ever so strongly that with the push on to rediscover our roots in gaming, and especially RPG, and then distill from those roots and streams and springs what has fed our industry for so long, that the Coastal Wizards might have learned their lessons if they had cared to. Such are the machinations of those whose plans are laid in the future and not the present or past.

There is a person here on this blog who passed along a book title to me. It is not fantasy, but it contains a lot of what is part of it. So besides WotC's managers reading the "Art of War," I suggest a perusing of it as well: "Defending Ancient Springs," by Kathleen Raine.

In between, I hope you never get caught in a dead end by an iron golem!

Rob Kuntz

The Great God Awto

I readily and heartily admit to being a die-hard Clark Ashton Smith fan. His stories are so like being buried in quicksand and enjoying every moment of it. I read one I hadn't in the past here.

It's a very timely story that caught me unaware, and it made me think and laugh at once. One more for Smith's genius, one more to ponder and appreciate. Classics never die.

1:20

Volume I of original Dungeons & Dragons (1974) includes this little tidbit that has long intrigued me:

Number of Players: At least one referee and from four to fifty players can be handled in any single campaign, but the referee to player ratio should be about 1:20 or thereabouts.

There are a lot of ways to read this. One is to assume that the 1:20 ratio is an atavism, a throwback to the way the wargames out of which D&D had grown were played. Another is to treat it as a guess based on how the authors believed the game would be played. Yet another is to see it simply as a reflection of the experiences of Gygax and Arneson, whose home campaigns included exceptionally large numbers of players by today's standards.

What I find interesting is that most interpretations of this passage take it as given that the 1:20 ratio is no longer tenable; it's at best an artifact from another time. There's a lot to support this notion. In my three decades (!) of playing this game, I never had more than 8-10 regular players at my table and the norm was usually 4-6. Back in the faddish days of the hobby, I participated in pick-up campaigns that were run at local game stores or at "game days" sponsored by public libraries. Those campaigns often had close to 20 people participating in them. I remember one rather fun campaign run at a library, which used this giant conference table to seat us, with the referee seated at one end -- the chairman's position -- and the bunch of us players on the other seats. It was a lot of fun and far less chaotic than one might expect, but that probably had a lot to do with the referee, who was a grognard of the original sort, well-known for his lengthy and well-organized wargames campaigns.

Reading that passage now, I don't think it's meant to be understood that there'd be 4-50 players participating in any single session at the same time. Rather, I suspect the idea is that a campaign, encompassing many sessions over many different days, might encompass that many players. The assumptions seems to have been that there'd be many different groups of players, all of whom shared a referee and whose adventures all took place within the same world. One of the reasons why the early megadungeons may have been so huge was to accommodate multiple groups of adventurers tramping through them on a regular basis. These places had to be big or else the referee would soon find himself without anything to occupy his many players.

I've long wanted to be able to run a campaign along similar lines, but I've never had enough players to make a serious go at it. I think it's a pity really, since this style of play had a big influence on the early development of the game. Understanding the dynamics of having several adventuring groups in the same campaign is knowledge many of us don't possess and I think it skews our understanding of the hobby's origins and subsequent growth. Unfortunately, I'm not sure this style could be recreated easily nowadays. The older campaigns drew heavily on already-existing game clubs, things that, in my experience anyway, are much rarer now than they used to be. The pool of available gamers is still quite large, but they seem to be more diffuse and insular than they were back in the day (again, at least in my experience).

Still, it's an intriguing thought.

Adventures With 1st Edition Lethalness

I have always thought that the summaries here of Maure Castle's/Mordenkainen's Fantastic Adventure contained excellent examples of 1st Edition AD&D (and before) lethalness.
The person's summaries of his group's experiences actually make me less enamored for having been mentioned as the "author" but somewhat more proud, instead, as a DM having always embraced a concept I was so often faced with as Robilar, who was constantly challenged across the gaming table by EGG's DM contrivances. Greyhawk Castle and Castle El Raja Key could be very lethal, and in many ways. Not that they were party killers (PK), but there were always chances that this might happen if the players did not think, of course. It is noteworthy that the above summary hits on many levels, as in "How" one dies that makes a legend, etc. It does bring back memories of the beginnings of D&D adventuring where all you could do in death was to become a legend; and by escaping same you became that same legend, a veteran, who was well respected by others in the party for having smarts, or at least luck. It was really refreshing reading that summary.

Can any of our other astute and informed members list other adventure modules that are in their experience as lethal or at least point towards being so? The systems are not important, but a nod towards 1st/2nd/OD&D would be nice (not including Tomb of Horrors, which is mentioned in the above summary).

Orcus, God of the Underworld

Something I have in the works and so wanted to share. The image is rendered by Jason Braun.

ORCUS
A Rethinking of the Ancient, Roman God of the Underworld

by Robert J. Kuntz
© 2009, Robert Kuntz.

Preface: Introductory Matter/Mythological Occurrences

The Roman god, “Orcus,” was a god of the Underworld, parallel with Pluto and thus with the Greek god, Hades, and by some affiliations with Dis (Dis Pater) and Tartarus. He seemed to have many forms and faces in keeping with the changing cultural view influencing this. There have also been relationships drawn between him and the Etruscan myth; and a depiction of a Cyclops at Tarquinia was errantly confused for him.

We can with all certainty put these gods in one basket, so to speak, and from there draw forth matter for use in creating FRPG material. The most extant matter on the amalgam of these classical underworld gods exists in the form of Pluto (Hades).

“Mortals, when they called on his name, beat the ground with their hands, and, averting their faces, sacrificed black sheep to him and to his queen. He is also known as Dis, Orcus, and Tartarus.”--Classic Myths In Ancient Literature, C. M. Gayley, 1893. [Emphasis points mine.]

That E. Gary Gygax included Orcus in the 1st Edition of the Monster Manual as a ram-headed “demon prince” of the Underworld, and in connection with the undead, gives more than ample proof to the derived source for this. In classical myth Hades was the least revered of gods, the least called upon and the most cursed, and common opinion of him was in fact so negative that it equated him with personified evil, which might be noted in particular in Aristophane’s play, “The Frogs,” wherein the Underworld is described according to the prevailing opinions of the time as a foreboding place of horrors. That mortals sacrificed black sheep to him is also noteworthy when comparing the rams head that EGG describes Orcus as having. In conjunction with this, that “mortals beat the ground” and averted their faces while offering this sacrifice is notable.

“When a person imitates the evil he would repel--grinning like a wolf to ward off wolves, smearing his face with blood to ward off blood and death, making thunderous noises to drive away thunderstorms--anthropologists speak of homoeopathic magic; when he makes use of some object, such as hair or nails, which has been a part of or has been in contact with the individual, the name contagious magic is given. The general term sympathetic magic is applied to both types, for a mysterious sympathy is supposed to exist between the object to be influenced and the object which is like or has been in contact with it. Often the rite is both contagious and homoeopathic at the same time.”--Taboo, Magic, Spirits: A Study of Primitive Elements in Roman Religion; Eli Edward Burriss, 1931. [Emphasis mine.]

We can assume here that the ancient Romans beat the ground to get Pluto’s (Orcus’) attention; and in so doing they averted their eyes, as he was the god of death and was not to be looked upon if he should appear. To this precise formula they added a sacrifice of a black sheep, no doubt due to another ritualistic reason which likely had a deeper meaning beyond a simple offering. And perhaps this related to his appearance, imagined or legendary.

Sheep were offered to gods on many sacrificial occasions, and thus a black one could have meant nothing more than a similar color relationship with that of the dark Underworld. But if this were the case, then the sympathy part of the normal ritual would have had no room for full exploitation in this instance, and in petitioning gods the Romans and Greeks were very elaborate and precise in their details. Therefore every action and material conveyed through these had a specific meaning, and more often compound ones. Did they offer the black sheep because he was like it in some form or another?

Though the true answer to the question of his appearance remains beyond our grasp, the citations provide enough primary and secondary information to build upon this by way of imaginative extrapolation. Thus one can easily create information about Orcus and the cults that worshiped this aloof god in his many forms...

Blogs Away!

We have invited a select number of folks to this blog with the idea of exchanging meaningful information and interchange. Those listed as contributors may post articles and commentary
at will, so do not be shy. Topics are pretty inclusive: Fantasy & SF, Game Theory, related historical highlights, D&D, AD&D and/or related systems or ideas pertaining to such, myth, legend, folklore, literature and especially how these are used in context in either games or related fiction or have some relational POV rarely if ever exposed, fantasy authors of note or influence ("old" or "new") and other creative perspectives and slants which would contribute to the growth and exchange of that minutiae we all find so interesting.

Return From GaryCon1

That's what the badge said: #1. Folks, Eric and I had a supremely good time at GC#1. My intent was to meet with the Gygax family and talk, and I did so with Luke, Ernie, Heidi and Elise and her husband. Also with Flint Dille, Paul Stormberg, Rhuvein, Jim Ward, Mike Carr, Tom Wham, Greg Timm, and so many others that it was in a word delightful. I met with Ed Kann and dined with him at the Next Door Pub, a well known and liked place for pizza which was always the spot back then for TSR folk to hang out at. Ed not only is slated to produce more great art pieces for PPP, but he is re-rendering the Original Castle levels in color from my originals (they will retain all the nuances and forms of the originals) and he will be doing increasing design work for us as well, so look for more from him down the pike. Also caught up with "two shades" of the past in the form of their sons, but I will let Eric recount that story. Life is ever amazing. In all a great time. I especially appreciated spending time with my old adopted family the Gygax's, who with the usual tenacity and verve have held up well and continue to do their father's name and memory justice.

Honoring Gary for his Artistic Chutzpah!

We go to Legion Hall this weekend to honor the memory of Gary at Gary Con II (correction, Gary Can I), where in the distant past the intimate Winter and Spring mini-cons were held. My distinct memories of these include learning Mah Jong from Schar Niebling and being absolutely amazed by the massive temples erected by Dave Sutherland for his Empire of the Petal Throne campaign. But even more special, Gary ran Greyhawk. You see, swamped by the growing business of TSR, Gary had turned the Greyhawk campaign over to Robert, and thus, Greyhawk adventures run by Gary were quite scarce outside of these seasonal venues.

I had the fortune of attending one of these Spring Con Greyhawk adventures, which was also attended by a friend of Gary’s up from Chicago. However, this fellow, whose name I don’t recall, seemed oddly unaccustomed to Gary’s judging style. Of course, Gary was quite patient with him, even mildly amused when the fellow insisted upon taking a pack mule into the dungeon. Where, after a few warning signs, it became clear to everyone that the mule would soon become our party’s doom. But rather than sacrifice the mule, this gent took issue with Gary's judging, and with the raw impudence that only a childhood friend could conjure, our muler shoved the open DMG into Gary's face, insistently stabbing at one of its pages. Gary leaned back and waved off his recently published volume and surprisingly disclaimed that he didn't care what was in it, he was ruling this way now!

One might be tempted to conclude a moral from this, wherein we appreciate Gary’s dictum that rules are merely guidelines, etcetera. However, we would be missing the more interesting point that Gary could often be as stubborn as a mule! And for sure, while living in a terribly politically correct world this might seem wrong to say. But we here have our feet deep in fantastic worlds outside those kinds of restrictions, so please bear with me.

Back at the gaming table, relieved by Gary's decisiveness, his chutzpah was of particular clarity to me in that moment: it displayed that glorious, deeply respectable wherewithal that every creatively invested human can toast for its utility and power to move things forward, especially when clouds of doubt and confusion would otherwise pervade. On this honorous weekend, we can now appreciate that same stubborn streak for setting uncountable worlds in motion, which now revolve deeply within our collective imaginations and continue to pull from all sources in a grand play of pure thought.

One might even ask, if we are not so stubborn ourselves, then perhaps our own creations could become more impactful and complete if we were more so? But, with this conscious freedom to realize our creative power made clear by our honored exemplary, then another moral to this anecdote should acutely strikes us to temper the thrill:

It is sometimes wiser to leave your mule at home!

Origin of the Black Pudding? Roots in CA Smith Conceptions?

One might wonder where EGG came up with all the puddings, slimes and oozes apparent in OD&D and later expanded (pun intended) into so many forms.

I have thought about the pulp story connections, especially those aligned to Clark Ashton Smith's mythos contributions. Strangely, Smith was never recognized as a primary influence in EGG's DMG Recommended Reading list, which I later, and gently, took him to task for while pushing a copy of Timescape's City of the Singing Flame into his hand, which he indeed read, thereafter complimenting the stories therein [1980, while he was visiting with me at my house]. How could Smith, being part of the great triumvirate of REH>HPL>CAS which was so recognized in the pulp community of the 30's & 40's on through the Arkham House reprints, and into the present, have been missed by him?

But I digress. I have tracked many influences for the "puddings" over the years, and I could even extrapolate (and have) from Star Trek's "The Devil in the Dark" episode's "monster" that bored tunnels and was very "pudding-like" in appearance. Of course there is also the "Blob," and perhaps even more to think about, no doubt. We shall never know, unless EGG recounted the influence somewhere I am not aware of.

But do read with care the following about C. A. Smith's "Formless Spawn," and then reference the monsters we described on page #63 of Greyhawk: Supplement #1 to D&D, particularly noting the second to last paragraph there. Could these manifestations have been influenced by such a source as well as used by EGG? At the time there was no connection to Smith's stories by myself (this would begin in 1976, as I had read almost all of the SF & F books that EGG had recommended from his shelves then, and Smith had been completely absent ). We contrived these Greyhawk monstrosities rather quickly then, especially the ogre jelly, as it had that double meaning that we both found humorous thinking future-wise about when its description would (gleefully, for us) elicit the suitable reactions of horror we foresaw from our players. But if Smith was the source, then why no mention of him at all? I have always found Smith's decidedly dark and fantastic stories very inspiring on a fantasy level and have always wondered of his omission from the earliest days of OD&D.

Formless spawn [as referenced from the Wikpedia article]

The basin ... was filled with a sort of viscous and semi-liquescent substance, quite opaque and of a sooty color.... [T]he center swelled as if with the action of some powerful yeast [and] an uncouth amorphous head with dull and bulging eyes arose gradually on an ever-lengthening neck ... Then two arms — if one could call them arms — likewise arose inch by inch, and we saw that the thing was not ... a creature immersed in the liquid, but that the liquid itself had put forth this hideous neck and head, and [it was now forming arms] that groped toward us with tentacle-like appendages in lieu of claws or hands! ... Then the whole mass of the dark fluid began to rise [and] poured over the rim of the basin like a torrent of black quicksilver, taking as it reached the floor an undulant ophidian form which immediately developed more than a dozen short legs.
—Clark Ashton Smith, "The Tale of Satampra Zeiros"
Tsathoggua's will is carried out by the formless spawn, polymorphic entities made of black goo. They are extremely resilient and very difficult to dispatch. Formless spawn can take any shape and can attack their targets in nearly every conceivable way. They are surprisingly flexible and plastic-like, and can quickly flow into a room through the tiniest of cracks. They attack by trampling their targets, biting them, or crushing them with their grasp. The Call of Cthulhu roleplaying game's entry on Formless Spawn also claims that they are powerfully acidic in substance and can dissolve human flesh with even a slight touch [bold emphasis points mine--RJK].

Formless spawn often rest in basins in Tsathoggua's temples and keep the sanctuary from being defiled by nonbelievers.

Mordenkainen Remembered

Mordenkainen the Great

by Rob Kuntz

Twice stricken and fallen so,
Mordenkainen the Great,
Shaper of Worlds,
Shaper of Souls.

Iron claws could not rend thee,
Neither did puddings black scare,
Join you now in feasts laid out,
A year's repast so fair.

Fire and ice you commanded,
Fantasy gouts all colored rare,
Your magical words cleaving high,
To change our earth, so bare.

Wither Murlynd in his 'pose?
And wither authors you did meet,
While walking paths of ancient times?
...Whom now in fondness you entreat.

Front Cover ART, 1 of 6, Original Castle Levels

Edward Kann has done a superb job of rendering a "Brain Flayer" for one of the six Original Castle levels due out this year from my pen. Do enjoy!--RJK

The Sphere of Many Eyes

Though many of the monsters of Dungeons & Dragons have their origins in mythology and folklore, many more are wholly original creations. Perhaps one of the most iconic is the beholder, which first appeared in Supplement I to OD&D, Greyhawk, in 1976. As I recall, the beholder was not a Gygaxian creation, but instead the work of Terry Kuntz, player of Terik and the Monk with No Name.

I've often wondered about what might have inspired the beholder. Did it have any antecedents in pulp fantasy literature? Was it based on a piece of artwork, like the remorhaz in this earlier entry? A nightmare perhaps? The seeds from which great ideas spring can be found almost anywhere and that's certainly true in the case of D&D, whose monsters have origins as diverse as rubber "dinosaur" toys from Japan (like the rust monster and bulette) or fondness for a particular movie from one's youth (like the iron golem).

I personally find tales of the origins of D&D monsters fascinating and would love to know more of them. Do any of my fellow contributors have any insights to share on the beholder's genesis?