Metal Hurlant

 

Metal Hurlant: Old Dreams, Young Visions by Brian Michael Bendis
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

If any one piece of media informed my teenage years, it was the movie Heavy Metal . Now, 43 years after I first watched that movie on HBO late night as a early teen (the perfect target for the movie at that particular time), I can honestly say that it still carries a heavy influence on my tastes in art, music, and just plain attitude. It was a significant blip on my cultural radar, but it was, in all honesty, just a blip. I watched it twice on HBO and then . . . the movie just disappeared. Vanished. I looked for news of a videotape release everywhere: magazines (remember, there was no internet back in 1982 - at least none that the military was sharing) such as Starlog or Fangoria , at obscure corners of videotape stores , libraries - wherever. I asked about it a lot. And whenever I asked, I either got a blank stare, or the person's face lit up, then quickly sagged with "Man, I wish. No one can find that." It wasn't until the very late '90s that the movie was released on DVD. There was some kind of legal kerfuffle about the use of the music, if I remember correctly, which prevented its release after the movie was shown on HBO.

But, though the times were dark, they weren't empty. I could always turn to the pages of Heavy Metal magazine, a number of which I usually shoplifted, and sometimes bought, from the gas station down the road from my house. Marvel comics also published a competitor in the form of Epic Illustrated , their first adult-themed publication. I could also rely on my old copy of Mechanismo (which I bought in the 1979, before I even knew about Heavy Metal) for a fix of cutting-edge scifi art. While in those "lean years" I also heard of a magazine titled "Metal Hurlant". It took some asking and researching (again: no internet) to figure out that this was the French version of the English "Heavy Metal". But it wasn't until 1985, when I moved to England, that I saw a copy of Metal Hurlant in the (paper) flesh. Sadly, the magazine ceased publication in 1987. A TV series, "Metal Hurlant Chronicles" emerged in 2012, but to be honest, it had little of the flair of either the original Heavy Metal movie or the magazine Metal Hurlant.

The English variant, Heavy Metal, had a series of misfortunes, mostly caused by abysmal customer service and poor money management, in the last couple of years. A kickstarter was done to re-release the magazine, which I've seen on bookstore (remember those?) shelves, though I hear there were also hiccups involved in getting copies to kickstarter backers.

At the same time, Metal Hurlant was kickstarted by a completely separate entity from Heavy Metal magazine. I did not back the kickstarter, as we were saving for a trip to Europe at the time, among other things. But I book-marked it as something I would look into. Lo and behold, my oldest son bought me a copy of Metal Hurlant for Father's Day. I raised that boy right!

With that long history lesson behind us, let's turn briefly to the book itself. And it is a book, at 267 pages of content. It's a mixture of old, classic pieces that debuted in the pages of the original Metal Hurlant back in the '70s, and newer material that explores contemporary approaches to science fiction illustration. Interspersed are several excellent essays that cover the history of Metal Hurlant, introductions to the newer artists in the volume, and sometimes delve into the punk attitude that informs the art, stories, and even the publication itself of what might be considered a counter-cultural manifesto, as well as an expanded artistic view of possibilities.

Of course, my own attitudes toward art have changed since I was a young teenager. Back then, I was clearly focused on the violence, crazy vistas, and . . . other biologically-driven interests. While those things are still of interest, I've upped my reasoning and critique since those testosterone-fueled halcyon days of yore. It's not enough to be "gonzo," and frankly, I am oftentimes put off by "gonzo for gonzo's sake" in my media consumption. Yes, I'm currently listening to the Heavy Metal soundtrack as I'm writing this review (duh), but my "favorite" songs on this wildly-eclectic album have shifted over time. I like some songs better than I used to and others have grown moldy (though there is one exception that has always been on steady footing for 43 years now - though I prefer the live version to the album version).

The wonder of the current incarnation of Metal Hurlant is that it has chosen "classic" reprints of the highest quality. There are no "dumb" stories in this volume (unlike, for instance, the "snow time" vignette in the Heavy Metal movie - ugh), except for the one overly-indulgent story about Arzach's mount pooping out copies of Metal Hurlant - that was admittedly pretty dumb.

The new stories also create a sometimes subtle sense of wonder at small things and gentle turns of story, among the awe-inspiring and more visceral emphasis of others. "Catching the Wave" and "You Will Remember Me" are downright poignant. Dare I say that I have found a new level of sophistication in the pages of this historically irreverent, "punk" magazine. Yes, yes I dare. I am eager to see what the next volume brings (subscriptions are available). All-in-all, I am rather ecstatic of what we've got here in the "new" (but also old) Metal Hurlant, and I am optimistic about its future, which will contain many futures that we can't even yet imagine.

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Agent of the Imperium: A Story of the Traveller Universe

 

Agent of the Imperium: A Story of the Traveller Universe by Marc W. Miller
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I make no bones about it: The Traveller RPG and it's primary setting, The Third Imperium, is one of my favorite places to take my imagination and has been since the early '80s. As a young child, I always wondered who the creator of the game, Marc Miller, was. As an adult, I've had a chance to meet him, game at this table, and really get to know him in a different way than just being a star-struck 12 year old fanboy. Marc is not just a creative genius, he is a gentleman and a kind, benevolent person, politically active in calling out racism and prejudice, just a general all-around good human being.

Back in 2023, after a very long conversation about politics and gaming (I'll spare you all the details), I bought this book from him at the gamehole convention. Of course, I asked him to sign it. He was very excited about the premise, wherein the main narrator has his consciousness loaded into a "wafer" that allows his personality and experiences to be plugged into a host body. He acts as a spokesperson who speaks as if the Emperor or the Empress (depending on when the narrator has been activated) and makes the most difficult decisions, often sacrificing thousands or even millions to save millions or billions. He is the one who makes the difficult decisions, acting, in ways, as a sort of god with the fate of the (known) universe in his hands. It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it. And these are not decisions that are made lightly. There is a pathos to the power, with some degree of regret and the haunting of the ghosts of the past that one might expect in such a situation.

But the central conceit of the book allows a broad view of a large universe. It is a rather brilliant mechanism, and one that requires a delicate balance between the vast and the personal.

In what could be a sanitized, clinical exposition on the setting of the Traveller RPG, Marc Miller takes a different tack, posing questions about what one would do if one had uninhibited authority, including the ongoing questions about the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. The humanity here is never lost, with all the attendant good, evil, and indifference that this infers.

I don't have time to go into details of Miller's Traveller universe. Suffice it to say, it's complex, but does not bury itself under details. There are nuances in the book that I had not expected from the source materials of the original game. For instance, there is the "problem" of the Zhodani, a human race that has embraced the use of psionics to the point where honesty is the only policy that makes sense in their culture. It is often compared to a pure communist system (Marc confirmed this to me directly in a conversation we had once). But here, there is a textured cultural take on a small sliver of Zhodani society showing both the diversity that is possible in a society where there are no lies and all thoughts are transparent, while simultaneously showing the impossibility of such a society understanding a culture that dissembles, deceives, and lies (i.e., the rest of Humaniti).

I'm glad I'm familiar with the Traveller universe. Yes, I could read this without it and still understand what's happening, but having been steeped in the lore for over 40 years now, I have a much clearer understanding of the impact of the events being portrayed here. But this should not stop the reader who has never played the game. The novel stands on its own feet. But if you'd like to know more, to engage in the actual ongoing creation of the setting, there's always the roleplaying game. Such is the creative magic of RPGs!

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Rogue's Gallery: Gameholecon 2024

 

9 years now, I've attended Gameholecon in Madison, WI. It helps that I used to live in Madison and am about 40 minutes away now. Also helps that my son lets me crash on his apartment floor. Not the most comfortable arrangement, but hey, it's free, and best of all I get to see my son every day, if even for a short time before I crash out. Love that guy.

This year Gameholecon was a little earlier than in past years. If I remember correctly, last year it was on Halloween weekend (or maybe that was the year previous - I forget). So it was just a touch warmer, which suits me fine. I have memories of earlier Gameholecons, when I lived in Madison, walking home in the bitter cold at stupid o'clock (yes, I was within walking distance). So, yay for global warming, I guess . . . 

Below is my "Rogues Gallery" AKA, the masks I wore for the various games. My schedule was like this:

Started off playing Dark Ages Cthulhu, which was just like modern Call of Cthulhu, but with different skills. The rules were essentially the same. It was a good scenario in which my character ended up becoming one with Shub Niggurath, which is de rigeur for such scenarios, no? There was supposed to be a chase scene, but the Keeper generously skipped that or we would have been there all day. 

Next up was an Empire of the Petal Throne game run by my friend Victor Raymond. I always want to squeeze in an EPT game if I can get in. This one played out as a very pulpy adventure, like something from a 1930s radio drama. It was kitsch, but in all the good ways. And, of course, I'm always happy to immerse myself in Tekumel - it's such a great setting. If you haven't played and get the chance to, jump in, but don't be overwhelmed, as Tekumel is thoroughly-recognized. I can guarantee, though, that if you're playing at Victor's table, you will get everything you need. He is very keen on, and very good at, introducing new players to the world.

Last game Thursday was "Catastrophe Island" for Dungeon Crawl Classics, run by another friend of mine, Doug Kovacs. I've been playing with Doug for a long time now, so I knew what to expect: utter insanity. And so it was. I played a punk kid who ended up as a unicorn-riding skeleton. That's . . . never happened to me before . . . that I want to talk about . . . ever.

Friday started with Achtung! Cthulhu! in which I played a special forces type infiltrating behind enemy lines to discover what some Nazis were doing and what they were digging up (whether intentionally or ignorantly). Yes, there was Nazi-punching. Lots of Nazi-punching. It felt cathartic. 

Next was a Classic Traveller adventure: "Death Station". It's a classic adventure, but I'll be honest, I've never played in it or read it before. Reminded me mostly of Pandorum, for those who know that movie. The best parts came at the end, actually, when we were able to carefully manipulate a no-win situation into something we could not only live with , but which was a satisfying resolution. Things looked very grim, but in-character roleplaying, which involved not a little threat of blackmail, won the day. 

And from there, I played a Boy Scout. Yes, a Boy Scout in a Call of Cthulhu adventure. This was a "black letter" adventure put on by the crew at You Too Can Cthulhu (bless their souls). I learned that a lot of ttrpg nerds were also Boy Scouts in their youth, including yours truly. I have fond memories of playing D&D by flashlight in a tent on a few campouts. This Boy Scout service activity, however, only created horrific memories for all involved. Given the timeline of the adventure, though all the Boy Scouts survived, it's likely they all got killed later storming Japanese-held islands in the Pacific. That's what we thought, anyway. I guess it's good when you speculate together on what happened to the characters later on in life. Wait, did I say "good"? I think I meant "horrible".

At every con, I try to play at least one game I've never played before. This time, it was Warhammer 40K RPG, which I was excited about. I've got to say, though, that it just fell flat for me. The system did not live up to the hype, as far as I am concerned. It was a fine adventure, but the emphasis on tactics just felt a little too video-gamey to me. I suppose the character sheet was cool. Your mileage may vary.

Saturday morning I was up early for a game of Troika!, which is, let's face it, very Saturday-morning-cartoonish. In other words, it was the perfect way to start the day! The scenario was rather simple, but because the Troika! system is also fairly simple, things flowed quickly and we had a good, goofy time. I'm a big fan of the system. It's stripped down the essentials, and the initiative system adds an element of chaos to everything that is a welcome change from going down the numbers list to see who goes next. 

That afternoon, I played Battletech. Now, I was a fairly early adapter to that game, first playing back in 1986. I played a lot (along with the Mechwarrior RPG) for a couple of years, then moved back to the States from England, and just kind of fell off the bandwagon. The last few years, I've enjoyed a renaissance of sorts. No, I'm not crazy about the game, but since I always try to get into at least one miniatures game per con, I saw the slot and took it. This one was a tournament-style wherein once you lose, you are then brought back on to the board in a bigger mech. Then, if that one gets toasted, you move on to a yet larger mech. It was a lot of fun. I put a photo below of my mech about to be absolutely destroyed by the opposing (and much larger) mech's axe. That was the last thing that happened in my participation in the free-for-all. Good fun, getting your head split open (and your pilot crushed to pulp) by another mech. It was pretty epic. 

In between sessions, I went to the dealer room. I was on a mission: I had played Never Going Home at a previous con and absolutely fell in love with it. So, I headed more or less straight to the Wet Ink Games table and barfed up a wad of money for these beauties:

Can't wait to dig in more on those! Given the way I'm trying to structure my time next year (more on that in a later post), I should be able to cook up some craziness and maybe even run a game at a con?

I also stopped in to see Marc Miller, the creator of Traveller. As always, I had a very pleasant conversation with him about games and life in general. I've stated before that it was a childhood dream come true to play at his table a couple of times and other conventions, and now he recognizes my face and knows my name. That might not seem like much to you, but to the 10-year-old that lives deep within my heart, that creates a great deal of excitement and gratitude within. I'm not afraid to say that he's a hero of mine (though he would likely try to brush that off as too-kind).

In any case, I stopped and bought some Traveller dice, something I've needed since childhood, but didn't know I needed. He also proffered a great deal of schwag, for which I'm grateful, including a comic about the Beowulf class of starships and a Beowulf all-access badge. Then, a week or so after the con, I received an envelope from Marc with a(nother) nobility card, among other goodies. To say that Marc's generosity is off the charts is an understatement.

The phrase "saving the best for last" has been so over-used as to become trite. But in the case of Gameholecon 2024, it really was saving up the best for last!

I was lucky enough this year to get into two games run by the You Too Can Cthulhu crew. The last game of the con for me was "Black Sun Rising". If this is ever published, I will destroy anything in my path preventing me from being first in line for this one. Our party was composed of Interpol agents. I played Vitali Kovalev, a Russian ex-pat whose specialty was busting organ trafficking rings. This proved critical in getting clues (i.e., calling in favors) to figure out how the illegal sale of Nazi artifacts co-terminated with a criminal organ harvesting operation. This was a complex, twisting trail of clues that culminated at a pagan folk music festival. You can guess what baddy was involved (hint, I've mentioned her already in this post). I don't want to give anything away, since you might very well play in this scenario at a later date, but this was absolutely THE BEST rpg experience I've had (as a player) at a con so far. I don't have enough superlatives. The scenario was a real test of the player's intelligence and problem-solving skills. The group of players (several of whom I've gamed with before) was just an amazing group of gamers, the kind of table one would die for to be able to play with on a more regular basis. The keeper was (as is always the case) on the top of his game and slipped into character easily. There was more dialogue and ROLEplaying than I've ever participated in for one game. It was absolutely PERFECT! Special thanks to the YTCC crew, who always do a great job, but absolutely knocked this one out of the park. And, yes, many Nazis were punched and shot and killed in the production of this gaming session. And it makes me smile, unlike my character, who, as you can see here is all business.

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Into the Cosmos

 

I've been a fan of Decadence Comics for years now. I think I first encountered there work in 2017 or thereabouts. My first purchase of their products was Geopolitical Manipulation Through the use of Fungi Based Parasites on 186F, which I strongly recommend. Since then, I've picked up a variety of their works and never been disappointed. Most of their books feature art by Stathis Tsemberlidis or Lando, a pair of brilliant artists who, when one looks at their work combined, is loosely reminiscent of the work of Moebius combined with that of Pepe Moreno and Arnaud Dombre (better known as Arno, from his collaborations with Jodorowsky in what appears to be the now-defunct Heavy Metal Magazine), but in a more organic register. 

Now, one of my favorite movies of all time is 2001: A Space Odyssey. So, when I saw that 50 Watts Books was publishing a collection of illustrations from Tsemberlidis featuring work from his graphic novelization of 2001, Solaris, and Rendezvous with Rama, along with the comic "Protoconscious", I hit the buy button before I even knew what I was doing. Thankfully, sometimes my instincts are right. 

While the entirety of these stories are not contained herein (except for "Protoconscious"), those familiar with either the written or filmed versions of these science fiction staples will recognize the touchpoints. But Tsemberlidis, while providing gracious nods to the originals, makes the works his own with his distinctive (if not evocative of the aforementioned artists) style and impressionistic structuring of panels. 

I am particularly fond of the illustration of the black monolith of 2001:

Now, I might be playing a little favoritism here, as another black monolith of much larger dimensions, which I dubbed The Black Cliff, features in my newest published Mutant Crawl Classics adventure, At the Mutants of Madness. 

TTRPG nepotism aside, Tsemberlidis has provided here a panoply of compelling imagery and storytelling via illustration. If you're looking for surrealistic science fiction art that uses abstraction to trigger the imagination, you've found yourself a treasure. 

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A Perfect Vacuum

 

A Perfect Vacuum by Stanisław Lem
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is, admittedly, the first time I have read a work by Stanislaw Lem. I'll be reading more, after this. Much more, in all likelihood. Of course, Lem has been lauded for decades by critics and colleagues alike, so he was always on my list of authors I ought to read. But, stubbornness being what it is, it wasn't until I listened to an episode featuring Lem's work on Weird Studies a couple years ago that I felt I needed to read his work. As usual, Weird Studies pushed me again into uncharted territories. More on that later.

I've been a fan of Science Fiction for many decades now, a habit I picked up from my father, who also read a lot of Science Fiction (I have to note that one of my proudest moments as a son was when I was able to call Dad up and let him know I had been published in Asimov's Science Fiction magazine). I don't recall seeing a Lem book on his shelf or his bedside stand, but then again he worked for the US military, so I'm not sure how it would look for him to read Lem's work, given the Cold War and all that rot. All that aside, I have to credit Lem with causing me to question, yet again, the definition of Science Fiction. These are not works of spaceships and laser-blasters. It's not even about aliens, per se, though there are times where the humans in these pages act or at least think in truly alien ways. These stories are, first off, not stories: They are imaginary reviews of imaginary pieces of literature. Fictional reviews of fictional books. The "science" comes in through the imaginary books themselves, in large part, and one might even say that the science involved is actually the philosophy of science and the philosophical implications of science itself.

We start, though, with a purely literary focus. Well, not purely literary, I suppose, if you view comedy as "unliterary". If you're seeking a laugh-out-loud (at times) story rife with self-deprecation and a surprising depth of philosophical thinking, you want to read "Les Robinsonades". It is absolutely brilliant. Right from the get-go of this collection, I could why so many people love (and hate) Lem. He has a cutting wit, which he combines with a sometimes laser-focused logic to create a sardonic, but philosophically-sound critique of a variety of "sciences" that may or may not live up to their "scientific" claims.

One of the funnier notions of "Les Robinsonades" (or the critique thereof) is that the titular Robinson has dismissed his servant Snibbins, a corollary to "Friday" of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, only to find his thoughts haunted by the servant and completely unable to escape the need to avoid Snibbins at all costs.

Poor Robinson, who wanted so to avoid shoddiness, who intended to surround himself with chosen ones, has befouled his nest, for he has ensnibbined the entire island.

Later, upon encountering Snibbins again (unavoidable on the island, one supposes):

Why does Snibbins, who previously only spat at the whales, turn out to be their ardent admirer, even to the point of requesting metamorphosis (Robinson says of him, to Wendy May, "He wants whaling")?

"Gigamesh," which Lem opines in the first introductory essay of this book "was to the least of my taste," is a labyrinthine chain of literary analytic drivel so abstruse as to drive even the most seasoned of academics mad. Reading it drove me through a safari of emotion, from respect to fascination to skepticism to anger to fury to hilarity. It felt a lot like being in graduate school again. In the end, it's so intentionally bad as to be comical. "So bad it's good"!

"Sexplosion" is, as the title implies, a view of what society might become if all the stops were pulled on the intersection of capitalism and sex. Want all the sex you can have? Be careful what you wish for. And what happens if a catastrophic event suddenly makes sex not only undesirable, but downright anathema to happy living? Well, let me tell you about the intersection of rampant capital and the vice of food . . .

"Gruppenführer Louis XVI" is every bit as crazy as it sounds: a cadre of SS officers flee to South America after WW II and create a kingdom based on bad third-hand history. Yes, the whole story is a fake review of a book never written, but I would read it, for sure. The premise is a fascinating social train-wreck and I can't peel my eyes away. Calvino and Sarban smashing into each other, face-to-face at 100 MPH!

Lem tries to out-beckett Beckett by taking the central conceit of the Irishman's imploding narrative in his famous trilogy and pushing it (or pulling it like a black hole) even further. "Rein du tout, ou la Conséquence" is a review of a book that not only was not written, but indeed cannot be written: a literary perpetual negation machine in which language itself utterly collapses.

"Pericalypsis" is science-fictional prophecy at its worst. Lem essentially foresees the proliferation of bad information that buries all good, meaningful information by its sheer mass (internet and A.I., I'm looking at you) along with the mountains of trash choking the landscape and seas. The solution presented by the fictional narrator is the worst possible solution. I'd leave it to your imagination. But you can't imagine just how bad it is.

"Idiota" is a side-wise examination of Dostoevsky's similarly-titled work. It is at times a condemnation of the Russian's work, and at times laudatory; Lem, tell me you're trying to critique The Idiot without critiquing The Idiot.

What happens when the "sanctity" of classics is besmirched by a tool that allows the easy disassembly and reassembly of great pieces of literature into penny-dreadful, even pornographic content? Ladies and gentlemen, I present "U-Write-It". Lem lambasts the uneducated and the academic elite all in one fell swoop! My, oh my, would he have hated US politics in the 21st-century.

"Odysseus of Ithaca" follows dungeoneers of the trash stratum (note another Weird Studies reference) in a quest for hidden genius, the type of intellect so profound that it is completely unrecognized by geniuses of the second order. You can probably see where this is going . . . or isn't going. Come read a tale of genius eternally undiscovered.

"Toi" outlines the logical impossibility of writing a book about the reader and an author's (failed) attempt to write the impossible. It is the weakest piece in this collection and yet, compelling.

"Being, Inc." presents the impossibility of each person on Earth selecting their fate, down to the fine details, from a catalog administered by corporations that arrange events such that everyone, eventually, has their desires arranged for and met. Of course, things get complicated when one considers capitalist competition in such an economy. One wonders where Lem, who lived through communism and the Solidarity movement in Poland, might fall in his preferences of economic systems. I suspect it was a bit of a sliding scale for him.

I think, in "Die Kultur als Fehler," the critic convinces himself, over the course of the review, that the author of the book is completely correct, which is the exact opposite of what the reviewer implies at the beginning. We see what seems to start as the opening of a Hegelian dialectic, but straightaway jumps to the opposite conclusion, leaving Hegel (and all supporters of "Civilization") behind. I'm reminded of a skeptic on youtube recently flipping his opinion about whether or not the moon was . . . brace for it . . . an artificially-constructed celestial object.

Right at the crossroads of philosophy and physics, "De Impossibilitate Vitae and De Impossibilitate Prognoscendi" examines the intersection and collision of probability theory and existentialism. What is the likelihood that you, as an individual different from all other individuals, exist at all? It's a rich question and Lem tackles it with a great deal of understated humor. You really are amazing!

. . . and so, but for the diarrhea of the mammoths, Professor Benedykt Kouska also would have not come into the world.

I can't understand why people were giving me weird looks for laughing out loud while I was reading this.

In "Non Serviam" Lem asks "the big questions" about life, morality, faith, existence, and God. He does this by positing what would happen, in terms of philosophical discourse, among virtual beings created by humans wielding computers with sufficient programming ability that the programmers become, effectively, gods. It's a compelling read, to say the least. I strongly suspect that the Brothers Quay were influenced by this story (they began their careers in Lem's native Poland, after all), and one cannot avoid comparing this work with the works of Philip K. Dick.

As for the concluding review/story, "The New Cosmogeny," I'll leave you to the Weird Studies examination of the same story. They explore it in much more depth and with more erudite insights than I can provide. Hopefully their analysis will also drive you to read A Perfect Vacuum.

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Vouchsafe Incarnadine

 Subtitles in a book are often, at best, unhelpful, and at worst, misleading. But the subtitle of Douglas Thompson's Vouchsafe Carnadine, "A Metaphysical Thriller" hits the nail on the head. Leaving the genre identity aside, I will vouch for Thompson's ability to craft believable dialogue that leads the reader to understand the depths of his well-defined characters. The three-headed protagonist of the story, Raymond Tierny, a brilliant scientist recently deceased, Maria, his lover who receives his letters in spite of his death, as if beyond the grave, and Helen Tierny, Raymond's jilted, but beautiful and brilliant wife, is . . . are . . . a sort of organism of complex connections, as one can imagine from a bizarre love triangle. 

Thompson's writing is "clean". There's no purple prose, no alliteration, no fanciness. And, though I do normally prefer some poeticism in my prose, this works out just fine. The story itself is strange enough that the clarity of writing here helps things along, allowing the reader to focus on the action and, more importantly, the philosophical implications of of the ongoing epistolary exchanges between Maria and the dead Raymond. 

At it's heart, Vouchsafe Carnadine is a love story, but an incredibly strange love story wrapped on the bones of a thriller. The heard of the story, however, has to do with the metaphysical propositions of what is possible with quantum physics. So, as I hinted at earlier, this story is anything but straightforward. But it is, after all of its emotional and investigative twists and turns, rewarding. 

Of course, the artwork is gorgeous. This is, after all, a Mount Abraxas book! Spendy? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

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Dhalgren

 

Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The older I grow, the more I realize that my childhood might have been exceptional. Not exceptionally good, mind you, just an exception to what the "normal" American child experiences. I was raised as an Air Force brat. Born in Germany, lived in The Philippines, Italy, England, and all over the US (Texas, Minnesota, Nebraska, Wyoming). Since the commencement of "adulting," I've lived in Pennsylvania, California, Utah, and Wisconsin. This shiftiness, especially in the first eighteen years of life, led to forming and cutting friendships and love in rapid order. I have no idea what it's like to have a "hometown". That just doesn't exist for me. I keep contact with a select few people I knew as a child. And even though I've lived in Wisconsin for nearly thirty years now, I still feel like a wanderer on this planet.

In all these journeyings, I've come to appreciate places for their unique mood, style, atmosphere, amusements, and shortcomings. When I visit a new place, I like to soak up the ambience and get to know the place. Cities, in particular, have personalities, I've found. My favorites are Oxford (UK), Vienna (Austria), and Madison, Wisconsin (US).

I've also met some strange characters in my life's wanderings. When I was young, I had more time and freedom to get to know individuals who lived out of the mainstream of society. Freaks, geeks, punks, goths, metalheads, gangsters, ex-soldiers, mystics, chronic alcoholics and drug abusers, the chronically mentaly ill, the homeless, other wanderers. The list can go on and on. I find humans endlessly fascinating and endlessly frustrating. I have a love/hate relationship with the human race. For the record: mostly, I love 'em!

I find that my experiences have everything to do with Dhalgren. Everything.

I'll be honest, I was shocked at how much I related to many of the characters in this book. Because I knew them. Some I still know. I won't name names, but the carnival of personalities in this work are almost all people I've met. It's an ugly bunch, with a lot of deviance from social norms. These are "my people".

But the real main character in this story is not the protagonist, who has forgotten his name and is simply called Kid throughout. The main charachter in this story is the city, Bellona.

Like any city, this work of psychogeographical semi-apocalyptic fiction is not particularly "linear". In fact, the last section's typeset is intentionally non-linear, with "asides" that contrast sharply with the other text in its immediate vicinity, a choppy fluidity between space and time-lines, and an aggressively experimental layout. Much like a city. In fact, I'd say this is one of the greatest works of psychogeography I've read to date.

And why "semi-apocalyptic"? Before I answer, let me point out that my Dad, an avid and voracious reader of science fiction (I owe that addiction to him), had this book on his bedside shelf for many months. I don't know if he ever finished it, but it eventually disappeared some time in the early '80s. So when I began the book, I was expecting all the regular tropes of science fiction, but something of a higher intellectual train than the pulps. Well, I was altogether wrong. Dhalgren is a semi-apocalyptic work, a story set in a city that has become a sort of pocket dimension, it's own entity, while still existing in a decidedly non-apocalyptic America. It's a place that time and space didn't forget, really, but a place that time and space set aside for its own little apocalypse. Something like "The Zone" in Roadside Picnic, or like what happened to the planet of Tekumel in the Empire of the Petal Throne universe.

In Bellona, things have become . . . disordered. Imagine that the late '60s and early '70s never ended, but that law and order were simply absent. It's not utter chaos - people still gather in groups, some in communes, some in gangs, some in ultra-luxurious compounds, some in . . . utter denial of the situation they are in (they try to maintain a "normal" lifestyle, despite the crumbling city and social order). Yes, there is violence, but there is also love and loyalty. As Depeche Mode used to say "People are People". And so it is in Bellona.

But Bellona is a jealous city. It doesn't let go so easily that one just walks away. Something undefined and strange compels many people to stay, though some do "escape" . . . if they avoid the forces that have been put in place to contain the decay of the city from escaping into the rest of the world. Well, it's not so mystical as it sounds, but as in many cities, people find it difficult, sometimes impossible (because of ideology, economics, or relationships) to leave.

Is the city alive? Maybe, maybe not.

Are the people who enter it under some kind of geas that doesn't allow them to leave? Possibly.

Will everyon who reads this work enjoy it? I doubt it.

Is Dhalgren a great work of experimental science fiction? Absolutely.

I'm glad I journeyed there. Though it was rough going, at times. Very rough going. I myself was, for a time, trapped against my will. But, as with many of the places I've seen in my life, I would return, if only for a visit.

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The Science Fiction in Traveller

The Science Fiction in Traveller by Shannon Appelcline
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I've spared no praise regarding what is one of my favorite roleplaying game systems, even claiming that it is The Simplest RPG System Out of this World, and by "Simple," I really mean versatile. But this review isn't about the game itself, it's about the book The Science Fiction in Traveller: a book about books about the game which is contained in books. Let's go down the rabbit hole.

The title might as well have been "The Traveller in Science Fiction". While the first section reviews books that Marc Miller claimed were inspirational to him (some of which I also thought were good, some not so good), this section is actually quite short. This isn't Appendix N, by any means, and I was honestly surprised by the scantiness here. But Appelcline is careful not to impose his own thoughts of what might have influenced Miller. Rather, he defers to Miller's own claims on the subject. As a strict exercise, I see why Appelcline did what he did, but I would like to have seen more of his insights into what might have influenced traveller. I think there's a lot more that can be seen between the lines of the published game material itself.

The vast majority of the book is taken by reviews of books and stories either influenced by Traveller (Jefferson P. Swycaffer's Condordat series, derived from Swycaffer's Traveller campaign, has an entire section dedicated to it) or written for the actual Traveller universe. Or universes, if I'm being proper, as the fiction reviewed here covers the breadth of all eras of Traveller (Classic Traveller, Megatraveller, The New Era, T4). Appelcline rates all of the works here by their literary merit and their applicability to the Traveller game (whether in terms of direct gameability or just inspiration/atmosphere). I've learned that there is a lot of really bad fiction associated with Traveller, most especially the "gaming fiction" that seems to compose the majority of the work. There are also a few titles that I will likely pursue for a read at some future date.

I wouldn't call The Science Fiction in Traveller "essential" reading for players or referees of Traveller. But sifting through the titles and using Appelcline's ratings as a guide is . . . an okay idea. I hestitate because, at times, I feel he contradicts himself. The ratings, as with any person rating books (myself included) are subjective and inconsistent with one another. I also noted several editing errors throughout the book, which gives me pause because I have copyedited several books and am particularly bothered by lazy editing, which is evident here. So don't take the ratings as gospel-truth. Your opinions may vary wildly from Appelcline's, but I feel this is a good starting point for your explorations into science fictional work associated with the game.

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Rayguns & Robuts an RPG Review

 Take one part Flash Gordon and one part Space Riders, mix liberally with system-agnostic role-playing game accoutrements and package in a digest-sized comic book. This is Rayguns & Robuts by Planet X Games.

Look at that fantastic sea monkey spoof. This gives you a pretty good idea of the mood of the whole thing. It even comes with a soundtrack!

And what do you get for your hard-earned deneros? Well, here's the TOC:

Yes, all that tasty goodness with a brief explanation of what "system agnostic" means. In short, no, you're not going to compromise your religious values by using this supplement (well, maybe you are, but there's no guarantee). What you will do is use the brains you've been gifted to slide the narrative pieces here into an existing game structure. Best to use this with a system with which you are familiar (I would suggest DCCRPG or The Simplest RPG System Out of This World, but you can use whatever you feel like. The offerings here are not tied to any particular system. There is almost no crunch here. You want crunch, you add crunch. You do you, man.

So, you might ask "is this a campaign world"? Well, yes and no. Mostly no. You'll find in here many heroes, antiheros, robuts, and worlds. The narrative descriptions act as signposts or "points of interest" in a potential campaign universe, but you fill in all the gaps. It's what we do with TTPRGs, right? Rayguns & Robuts is a starting point or, more properly, several starting points and waypoints. What's the end game? Up to you. Incidentally, I've been thinking that this could provide great material for a campaign that starts in the Ultraviolet Grasslands, then goes off-planet. If I were to do that, I'd be sorely tempted to use the Troika! RPG as my system. 

Well, if it's not a full campaign world and doesn't have any rules, what does it do for me? What am I paying for anyway?

You are paying to have your mind BLOWN! I'm listening to some heavy psych metal while I'm typing this and, you know what? It's entirely appropriate. R&R is a mind-expanding supplement meant to crack the spaces between your synapses clean open and let psycho-pulp laser pistols, killer robots, cyborg chimps, and astro-zombies worm their way through into the depths of your brain. This is all about vision and mental expansion, it is, dare I say it, a prompt for your imagination to run wild. And all this without the use of mind-altering substances (or with, if you prefer - I won't judge). I don't want to spoil all the fun by telling you about every little detail to be found herein, just be aware that there is a depth to the ouvre of this work. A "voice" if you will, like a writerly voice, that is unique and memorable and, above all, playable.

You are also paying for some of the best eye candy I've seen in an RPG supplement. Artists Ed Bickford, Lawrence Hernandez, Je Shields, Dan Smith, and James V. West (who did some of the art for my own Beyond the Silver Scream) provide a shockingly-effective visual treat that is eclectic, yet "of a piece". Think of the movie Heavy Metal (one of my favorites of all time), where several different artists come together to form a complimentary work of art that is greater than the sum of its p(art)s. 

There is an adventure in the back, which should provide a good starting point (or later waypoint, if you like) for a potential campaign. Now, I am partial to adventures with environmental hazards, but I realize that not everyone likes these. But if you do, you're in for a treat. Sure, there are a couple of monsters, but player characters are much more likely to accidentally bump themselves off than to be killed off by sentient (or at least semi-sentient) nasties. Not saying they won't be killed off by those nasties, but they are more likely to succumb to environmental hazards.

Don't you succumb to the hazards. Go buy this thing, already! Strongly recommended for acid-tripping psychonauts out to defeat killer machines - or those who want to be. Grab that raygun and GO!

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The Robot Novels: The Caves of Steel / The Naked Sun

 

The Robot Novels: The Caves of Steel / The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

It was probably around 1977 that I became fully aware that this specific edition of this novel had sat on my dad's bookshelf, probably since before I was born. It's strange to say, but that freakish cover with the vacuum-cleaner robot was a fixture in my house, as I said, likely from before I was born, to the day of my father's death in 2018. The stranger thing, I suppose, is that I have not read it until now. When my parents passed away (both within two months of each other - but that heartbreaking story is for another day), we got rid of most of their books. Many I had already read or owned, and most of the rest I wasn't terribly interested in. Dad had purged his collection back in the '90s or so, and, well, mom read romance novels almost exclusively, so . . .

But this one I kept. I can't look at the book without thinking about my dad. He was a huge fan of science fiction and of Isaac Asimov in particular. I gave some of the Foundation material a go some time ago, but wasn't floored by it. It was . . . good. But didn't strike me as amazing. But I had read many other books that my dad had (or had recommended to me) and he read some that I gave to him.

And what did my dad see in The Robot Novels? I can't tell you, but I can tell you what I saw.

First off, I'm convinced that Asimov wasn't really a science fiction author. At least not with this book. Sure, it's got all the trappings - robots (obviously), enclosed cities cut off from nature (the "Steel Caves" referred to in the first novel), spaceships, and blasters. But really, this is a noir novel along the lines of The Maltese Falcon or The Big Sleep.

Secondly, Asimov was a product of his time. The use of the term "boy" for robots, the undercurrent of sexism, etc. While these things are not as blatant as, say, Lovecraft's racism or the sexism of E.E. Smith's Triplanetary, you can sense that Asimov was writing at a time when society was starting to "deal" with these subjects.

Lastly, Asimov is a good, solid writer. But don't expect anything fancy. Like its noir predecessors, The Robot Novels are a working-man's prose work. I'm not sure if this was an intentional choice by Asimov or the next step in science fiction writerly-ness, one step removed from the pulps. But there seems to be a neo-Hemingway sensibility to the prose itself. Nothing fancy, but it gets the job done. And the job, as they say, needs doing.

Overall, I really enjoyed the read. The plot was a twisty as you'd expect from a quasi-noir novel in a science fiction setting. The characters, while showing their "age," were interesting and while not three-dimensional, they were also not two-dimensional, filling some fractal character space in between. Will I read it again? Probably not. But I might be convinced to dip into another Asimov down the road, who knows?

To tie this one off, one of my proudest moments as a writer came when I was able to tell my dad that my story "The Auctioneer and the Antiquarian, or, 1962" was to appear in Asimov's magazine. He was effusive in his praise, something that was counter to his demeanor most of the time. It really is one of my happiest memories of my dad. Little did I know that ten years later, he would be gone and I would be collecting from his belongings the copy of the magazine that I had sent to him.

Folks, ten years can slip away very, very quickly.

Hold on.

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The Dark Eidolon and Other Fantasies

 

The Dark Eidolon and Other Fantasies by Clark Ashton Smith
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Let me let you in on a little cosmic secret: Clark Ashton Smith's writing is better than Lovecraft's. Way better. Alright, HPL got in on the game early, and it's obvious that CAS looked up to him in some ways. But let's not kid ourselves. In terms of pure writing ability, CAS >>>> HPL. That's not to say he's perfect. As you'll see in my notes below, Smith stumbles from time to time. But when considering the quality of his work as a whole, I find him a notch above the old man from Providence.

Let's start with the short stories.

The volume (and Smith's world) is introduced through "The Tale of Satampra Zeiros," a low-adventure story that blends tropes associated with cosmic horror and sword and sorcery rather seamlessly. One can already see, in this story, the influence Smith had on later writers. Fred Saberhagen's Empire of the East comes to mind immediately.

"The Last Incantation" would be heartbreaking, if the heart in question wasn't already broken beyond all repair and recognition.

Smith out-Lovecrafts Lovecraft with "The Devotee of Evil". THIS is true cosmic horror, without the mis-steps of HPL. The mysterious remains so, unspeakable things remain un-uttered, and no name is given to the dark vibrations collected and transmitted by the devotee. The obfuscation, ironically, gives the horror here a crystalline clarity. This is among the best cosmic horror stories I've read.

Perhaps "The Uncharted Isle" loses some of its original power because the tropes used in it are now, well, tropes. It is a luxurious story, but easily predictable, with little new to offer those who have been steeped in weird fiction. Still, it's a good read. Perhaps if I had read this earlier in life it would have stood out to me more. As it is, it's not bad, not great.

"The Face By the River" rises above '50s horror comic hackneyed tropes only by mere inches. The last paragraph was the best part of the story. I only wish the rest was that good.

"The City of the Singing Flame" is one of the better stories of cosmic horror I have ever read. Tonally, it reminds me most of A Voyage to Arcturus. There is a beautiful ecstacy to this brand of horror, something terrifying not because of its darkness, but because of its chromatic, refulgent light. I am reminded of the carousel in Logan's Run. Here's a little snippet:

Wall on beetling wall, and spire on giant spire, it soared to confront the heavens, maintaining everywhere the severe and solemn lines of a wholly rectilinear architecture. It seemed to whelm and crush down the beholder with its stern and crag-like imminence.

I wonder if Dan O'Bannon was inspired by "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis" when he wrote the screenplay for Alien. At least one important element seems to have been snatched right from these pages. It's an effective tale of horror mixed with science fiction. Heck, I might steal this idea next time I run the Mothership RPG. This is some good stuff!

"Ubbo-Sathla" is another story of curiosity turning to obsession to doom, but with the twist of something akin to transmigration of souls (metempsychosis). This was a good, old-fashioned weird story and I quite liked it. A step above Lovecraft in terms of writerly control and evocation of atmosphere, with the same level of weirdness.

"The Double Shadow" is what one traditionally thinks of when one thinks of CAS: sorcerous deviltries from time immemorial, necromantic rites, ages long since past (so long ago, in fact, that a long-dead ghost must be compelled to travel even further back into its pre-birth past), and dark abominations that even the greatest of sorcerers dare not invoke. Cosmic horror and ancient sorcery make for a heady admixture.

"The Maze of the Enchanter" speaks in the same voice as Jack Vance. Maybe that's coincidence, but the resemblance is uncanny. The same sort of strangeness, replete with transformations and hideous consequence, as well as winsome villains, resonates strongly with The Dying Earth. These are all good things, laudable, and slip into the dreamer's mind quite easily. Did I say "dreamer's"? Perhaps I mean "reader's". Or no.

The title story "The Dark Eidolon" is everything the weird fiction connoisseur could hope for. Mad wizards, decadent empires, gargantuan architecture, extravagant sin, devil-patrons, gigantic skeletons, crowned mummies of long-dead kings, and an age-old morality tale (though seemingly devoid of morals, except on the part of a devil!) make for heady reading that one drinks and drowns in, rather than simply reads.

The banal predictability of "The Weaver in the Vault" is more than offset by the luxuriant language and clever turns of phrase used to describe the setting and the action of three ill-fated warriors sent by their king to retrieve the mummy of his dynastic ancestor from the ruins of a fabled city of the dead. The Shakespearean affectations of the men's speech adds to the feeling of antiquity. Weirdness ensues (could it be any other way?).

"Xeethra" is a story of dream, of yearning, and of dashed hopes and the inevitability of decay and ruin. If I were to pick a tale to represent "nihilistic weird fiction," this might be it. It's a devastating story, made even more so by Smith's ability to lure the reader into a sense of comfort and even luxuriance, before stripping away the idyllic innocence he had already bestowed.

I would consider "The Treader of the Dust" a minor story in Smith's canon. There's nothing terribly original here, though it is weird and creepy. The mummy-cum-grey-alien-space-baby was a nice touch, but it was probably the only extraordinary thing here. The rest are pretty well-hackneyed weird fiction tropes. It'll do , if you need a fix, but no one is going to get addicted to Smith through this one, I'm afraid.

The moral of "Mother of Toads" - don't allow women who look (and smell and sound) like gigantic toads ensorcel you then sleep with you. Got it. Check. Not my favorite story, though it would make a great 1950's horror comic!

"Phoenix" is a classic piece of science fiction. A beautiful story with a predictable outcome, but told in such a soothing, almost solemn way. It's a joy to read.

Besides the short stories outlined (or critiqued?) above, there is a healthy dose of Prose Poems and Poetry.

All of the Prose Poems in this volume are excellent. I find myself increasingly fond of those two genre oddballs: novellas and prose poems. Smiths prose poems rank up there with Arthur Machen's Ornaments in Jade for sheer beauty, eloquence, evocation, and conciseness. The ideas behind the words are expansive beyond the page.

The poetry is good, some of it excellent, some of it repetitious almost to the point of self-referentiality.

"The Hashish-Eater; Or, The Apocalypse of Evil" is the type of epic poem you see tattooed across someone's back or airbrushed on the side of a conversion van or presented in an incredibly expensive edition book with gold leaf impressions and silk ribbons. To quote teenage me "it rules". I would spend good money for a beautifully-produced book containing this poem alone. Apparently CAS didn't like it much, feeling it too derivative of other poets (particularly Flaubert) and inadequate in presenting the true horror of understanding the vastness of the cosmos. But . . . well, he was wrong. If you're going to read any one piece of writing by Clark Ashton Smith, make it this poem!

All-in-all, this is a worthy collection. Though it lacks the tight cogency of, say, Zothique, it shows Smith's breadth of writerly skill and subject matter and is a fantastic introduction to this criminally-under-rated writer. There's a reason that this book has become one of the Penguin Classics. Here's to hoping that Penguin continues to produce more in this vein!



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Khazad-dûm, outgunned in Traveller, and 5E

 Trigger Warning: If you looooove D&D 5E, you're probably not going to like this post. I mean, you do you, man. Whatever gets you to the table is great for you. But you're likely not going to like this post.

Events in original version of The Fellowship of the Ring are admittedly different than the movie; in some ways vastly different, in other ways more subtle. The scene in Moria at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm is no exception. The movie, of course, compresses time and does not allow for the same explication that the book provides. Be that as it may, one thing is common: the Fellowship are pursued by orcs. Lots of orcs. In the movie version, they all flee once the Balrog appears, in the book version, they move clear out of the way, but do not flee altogether. They watch, along with the Fellowship, as Gandalf declares his title, gives his command, and seals his own fate.

But the thing I'd like to emphasize here is the sheer number of orcs. I'm sure some enterprising nerd with all kinds of time on their hands has already figured out exactly how many orcs appear in the movie scene. Hundreds, to be sure. The book doesn't elaborate, but states that when they begin to fight their way out of the Chamber of Records "how many there were the Company could not count". I'm guessing they weren't stopping to count. Even with the power that the Fellowship represented, with one of the most powerful wizards of Middle-Earth (not even a human - people forget that Gandalf was, essentially, a demi-god), a Ranger of renown (who wants to guess at Aragorn's level as a ranger? 10th? 12th?), a great warrior in Boromir, a heroic dwarf and elf, and a smattering of halflings (they might be bordering on 2nd level at this point . . . mmmmmmaybe); even with all this firepower, what was Gandalf's reaction? "Fly!"

Remember, this was before the Balrog showed up. With so many orcs giving chase (Okay, they had a cave troll and a big chieftain orc - who doesn't even get a mention in the movie), the leader of this very capable group of adventurers felt it best to just get the heck out of there!

Back in 1983 (I only remember because I watched the Twilight Zone movie on HBO at the Recreation Center right before the game I'm about to tell you about), I played a game of Traveller run by an older gentleman whose name I can't remember. He would run games (D&D and Traveller, mostly, though I only got in on a few of his games) for us kids (I was 13 or 14 at the time - most of the others were a year or two younger than me). In this game, I had a character with a leadership skill of 5, which is absolutely ludicrous. I rolled him up openly and honestly using Mercenary, Traveller Book 4. This guy legit had Leadership - 5. Unfortunately, as a 14 year old kid, I did not.

The scenario was a ticket to assist in training and acting as "observers" (read: people who shoot guns at other people for money) on a backwater planet that was trying to establish its hegemony against, you guessed it, the Imperium. We had visions of glory and took a good part of the session planning the tactics and training the group of rebels in how to fight using guerilla tactics, for the most part. My Leadership score gave us some hints as to how to better prosecute our battle plan, though the GM left it mostly up to us to plan and execute the plan. 

Things started out great. We took out an APC using, of all things, cow manure (flushing the soldiers out and gunning them down, then taking the APC for our own use). Then, we downed an Air Raft and were able to repair it enough for our use. We had a few successful strikes against the local Imperial garrison, wiping out several platoons of surprised low-ranking Imperial navy personnel.

Then the Imperium got serious. They brought in the Marines in a trio of ships boats from ships that were orbiting the planet. And . . . a meson accelerator.

Oops.

Seeing our trainees being needled like swiss cheese with gauss rifles and watching the meson accelerator disintegrate an entire village (and surrounding environs), we felt it wisest to flee.

But it was too late at that point. We had picked our fight. And the fight picked us. Or, rather, the ravens picked our bones clean. It was an utter disaster.

And I'll never forget it. We were devastated that we had been so callously and easily wiped out by the Imperial Marines. But we were elated to be a part of that story, even if the Imperium's data logs would register perhaps one sentence on the incident. We had made history.

Since that time, I've not been afraid to die in an RPG. I've lost countless characters in a number of different games. I'm kind of proud of those graveyards and even more proud of the few characters who made it through adventuring to live to a ripe old age. Okay, one of them was artificially-aged by a ghost, but that's beside the point. 

But I do still get a thrill when my party is outnumbered. Especially when it's *really* outnumbered. These situations can combine the best of hack 'n' slash, puzzle solving (aka: strategy), and roleplaying. Which is more exciting: a group of adventurers ganging up on a big baddie and using their various skills and powers to defeat a single monstrous foe, or having to puzzle out a way to get away when faced with hundreds of little baddies? I can go either way, to be honest. But the prospect of dying at the hands of hundreds of kobolds is, somehow, more terrifying than facing Lolth and knowing you are going to be toast, in all likelihood. I think it boild down to statistics. When my analytical mind boils the situation down, I'm faced with a 5% chance every time one of those little critters attacks that it's going to be a critical hit. And in the games I play (and run), the critical hits tables are absolutely ruthless. 

Same with that Traveller game. When it dawned on us that those three long cylinders dropping from the skies were filled with Imperial Marines (using Gauss Guns, no less) and a Meson Accelerator. Well, we knew the jig was up. And yet, being early teens, we fought on. Stupid. Just plain stupid. We should have fled. We might have had a chance to escape. Or at least to be captured by Imperial authorities and be "re-educated," if the local noble was feeling in a generous mood. Being stuck in that situation could have forced into some great roleplaying. Alas, we were young and inexperienced. But we learned from it.

Now, full disclosure: I have not played 5e yet. It's been out how many years? I dunno. Many. I have plenty to keep my plate full between my regular AD&D 2e game, my semi-regular DCC game, and any games I might randomly run once in a while (usually DCC, MCC, Traveller, Delta Green, or Call of Cthulhu). Plus with all the con games I play in (I usually try to get at least one DCC game, one CoC game, one EPT game, one miniatures game, and one game I've never played before) I really have no need to play 5e. Yeah, it's what all the cool kids are doing, but I never was a cool kid, ESPECIALLY when I was young and into gaming, when mentioning that you played D&D was liable to get you taped to a locker room pillar and have the entire football team punch you in the arms - yeah, that happened to me. Tell me all about bullying . . . 

Anyway, I haven't played 5e, so shoot me. I have lots of friends who have, and they are still cool people. So I've got nothing against others playing 5e. Whatever makes the hobby grow, I'm cool with it, honestly. But I've learned enough about 5e that I can say that I have intentionally avoided 5e. At last Garycon, I sat down to the table thinking I was playing Mothership, when the GM said "we'll be playing a 5th edition version of this scenario". Thankfully, two other players spoke before I did, saying that they came to this session intentionally to learn Mothership. I'd played Mothership a few times before, and that's what I was looking for, too. So I threw in my 2 cents, as well. The GM graciously switched gears and we played using the Mothership rules. Phew! That was a close one!

My two big problems with 5e, and I'm speaking from a stance of relative ignorance here, I admit are: 1) the fact that you have to try really, really hard to die in 5e, from everything I've heard from people who play the game and 2) Challenge Ratings for monsters facilitate this, more-or-less guaranteeing a "balanced" encounter where the difficulty of defeating the monsters is commensurate with the power of the PC party. This is purely a preference. If you play that way, I'm not knocking you. You do you, man. But as for me and my house, we will face enemies that are well beyond our power to defeat and, usually, we will die.

Now is the part where you type up comments telling me I'm sociopathic (if you've ever met me, you'll now how far from the truth that is) and that I'm a boomer (false: my parents were boomers. I'm as Gen-X as they come and I've got the credentials to prove it). But what I'd really like to know are: have you ever faced overwhelming odds, in terms of sheer numbers, as a player? Or have you thrown impossible odds at your players as a DM? And most importantly, how did you handle it? Has it ever gone horribly wrong (for the players, not for the characters)? And what are some of the best solutions you've seen come out of those situations?

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