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Title: “Jeans and jackets from Wrangler,” 1960s
Source: https://reddit.com/r/vintageads/comments/g8dw3j/jeans_and_jackets_from_wrangler_1960s/
Original Roleplaying Concepts
Title: “Jeans and jackets from Wrangler,” 1960s
Source: https://reddit.com/r/vintageads/comments/g8dw3j/jeans_and_jackets_from_wrangler_1960s/
Here we are! At the end of another A to Z Challenge. I am pretty pleased with how this all turned out to be honest. I got a lot of monsters done and found some new blogs to follow. I had not participated since 2016 and I was curious about how it all might be different. Well, it was. Far fewer people were in it now (no surprise) and it also seemed to have a bit less interaction. Some sites I noticed had quite a few comments, while many others had none at all.
I'll have to think about what I am doing for next year. I guess it depends on what book I have coming out. An A to Z of Demons part 2 might be in order. But that is the future, today I want to talk Zombies!
I wanted to end this challenge with a monster I first made on one of my first computers. This is NOT the first monster I ever made. This is, roughly, the same monster I first created on my Tandy Color Computer 3 with my first ever word processing software, VIP Writer. I looked to see if I still had the printout, on dot-matrix paper no less, but I am afraid that is long since gone.
Additionally, this creature was inspired by the creatures in the 1980 movie The Fog.
Frequency: Rare
Number Appearing: 1d8 (3d8)
Alignment: Chaotic [Neutral Evil]
Movement: 60' (20') [6"]
Swim: 240' (80') [24"]
Armor Class: 7 [12]
Hit Dice: 5d8* (23 hp)
THAC0: 13 (+6)
Attacks: 1 weapon
Damage: 1d8+2
Special: Undead
Save: Monster 5
Morale: 12 (12)
Treasure Hoard Class: X (M)
XP: 300 (OSE) 350 (LL)
Str: 16 (+2) Dex: 10 (0) Con: 10 (0) Int: 5 (-2) Wis: 7 (-1) Cha: 3 (-3)
The drowned zombie, or sometimes called a sea zombie, is the reanimated corpse of a drowned sailor. Often reanimated via some curse or the desire of their captain to continue their mission at sea. They will rise up from the sea at night and terrorize local coastal villages. They seek out warm bodies to feed on.
Similar to other zombies, these creatures though have a bit more intelligence and free will. They are subject to control over whatever animating force brought them back. If it is a curse then they will seek out whatever means they can to either break or satisfy the curse so they may rest at the bottom of the sea.
Drowned zombies attack with whatever weapons they had in life. Their strength adding a +2 to hit and damage. They can be hit by normal weapons, but slashing and piercing weapons only cause 1 hp per hit regardless. As undead, they make no noise until they attack. Immune to effects that affect living creatures (e.g. poison). Immune to mind-affecting or mind-reading spells (e.g. charm, hold, sleep).
Drowned zombies are turned as mummies or 5 HD undead.
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And there we go!
I did not get my Treasure figured out, nor did I figure out which XP system to go with. OSE is in general lower than LL, I could present it as a range of values.
Will I do this again next year? No idea yet. But this was a lot of fun.
Pursuing the AD&D Monster Manual back in 1979 I could not help to notice that while most of the monsters were obviously mythology in origin, one stood out. There are on the next to last entry stood tall and proud, the Yeti.
Now you have to remember what the late 70s were like. Bigfoot fever was all over the place then, there were no less than a dozen movies about Bigfoot in the 70s alone. Only the 2010s exceed it. So seeing a Yeti, who I knew was a relative, was very interesting. At first I didn't want to use him, it seemed so "off" to me. But over the years I have changed my mind and now I use all sorts of hominid cryptozoological creatures. But one of my favorites might just be the Almas.
The Almas featured in my first Ghosts of Albion adventure, Almasti, found in the Ghosts RPG core rule book. I spent a lot of time with them and decided I needed to port them over to D&D. This version is different than the Ghosts version, but still compatible.
Frequency: Very Rare
Number Appearing: 1d4 (1d8)
Alignment: Neutral [True Neutral]
Movement: 120' (40') [12"]
Fly: 240' (80') [24"]
Armor Class: 7 [12]
Hit Dice: 3d8+6** (20 hp)
THAC0: 11 (+8)
Attacks: 2 fists or by weapon
Damage: 1d6+2 x2 or by weapon type +2
Special: Fly, immune to cold, spells
Save: Monster 3
Morale: 8 (10)
Treasure Hoard Class: None
XP: 100 (OSE) 135 (LL)
Str: 16 (+2) Dex: 14 (+1) Con: 16 (+2) Int: 13 (+1) Wis: 15 (+1) Cha: 11 (0)
Almas are the smaller, more intelligent cousins of the Yeti. Due to their smaller size, they do not have the yeti’s hug attack. For every group of six Almas, one will be a shaman who has the spellcasting ability of a 2nd level winter witch.
With the aid of the shaman, an Almas can fly on the boreal winds, but only after the sun has gone down.
They are immune to normal and magical cold. Almas speak their own language and that of giants.
Almas are usually found in lower parts of the same mountain ranges one will find the yeti. The two groups will avoid each other, mostly due to the fact that interactions between them have caught the attention of humans and that is a far worse out for them.
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Simple monster with plenty of role-playing power. Plus they are fun to pull out when the players are expecting a yeti and these guys just fly away.
Sam Moore / April 28, 2021
One of the first, most potent images in Wakefield Poole’s groundbreaking 1971 adult film Boys in the Sand is that of Casey Donovan emerging from the waves before making his way onto the beach. The image feels like a queering of a common cultural touchstone: a figure of great beauty surrounded by water, as if the waves and sea came together to create it. From Botticelli’s Birth of Venus to Ursula Andress in 1962’s Dr. No (subverted decades later by Daniel Craig in 2006’s Casino Royale), there’s something about the water as a site of (re)birth that’s full of power and myth. This idea of a loaded geography, at once physical and representative of something greater, runs deep in the DNA of Boys in the Sand; the film wouldn’t exist without the Fire Island locale that it calls home.
Poole’s film explores both the reality and mythical unreality of New York’s Fire Island, a place that’s taken a heightened place in queer art and culture for decades now—a kind of sanctuary, a place of freedom, one made all the more tempting by the fact that it isn’t available for everyone. In the director’s commentary for Boys in the Sand, Poole says that when it came to Fire Island, “a lot of people had heard of it, but never seen it.” Boys is a kind of strange travelogue, capturing both the island’s reality—how elemental it is, the heat and the water—and also imbuing it with a kind of magic, helping to turn the place into a myth. The film is a perfect escapist fantasy: there are no straight people, there’s no violence, all the men are beautiful, and the sex is plentiful. It becomes something utopian, the kind of gay-only place that people might normally have only dreamed of. The nature of queer life at the time, the extent to which it was something that had to be kept secret, is one of the things that’s gone on to make Fire Island such a staple of queer culture, an iconic part of its history. This idea—attractive men bathed in a sunlight so bright that it seems almost unreal—is echoed in a lot of art that explores the Fire Island milieu, perhaps most explicitly in the images detailed in Tom Bianchi’s 2013 Fire Island Pines: Polaroids 1975-83.
Bianchi’s images echo the aesthetic of Boys in the Sand, and looking at Donovan in the film alongside some of the men who appear in Bianchi’s Polaroids, it becomes clear that they share the same approach to Fire Island: both artists echo the same Arcadian myth of the pines. A certain type of body populates the vast majority of the snapshots: buff, gym-going, masculine, tanned—the tan lines on Bianchi’s subjects, in fact, are often vivid in contrast to their sun-kissed bodies. Poole’s actors fall into a similar camp, and this creates the sense that Fire Island is a place that’s by and for a narrow group of people within queer communities: conventionally attractive men. The prevalence of these images inverts similar ideas in a straight tradition: tempting women on distant islands, stretching all the way back to the sirens in The Odyssey. From a queer perspective, this idea is both new and old all at once; while it changes the ways in which male bodies are viewed—and challenges mythical traditions that often only frame female bodies in this way—it continues to show that only certain kinds of bodies are worth immortalizing via images.
For all of the possibility in the air, the bodies that occupy these spaces make it clear that the Fire Island that exists in queer art is a place to showcase a certain type of body, a way to look and a way to live that’s the price of admission for this very specific utopian escape. Boys in the Sand finds power in these bodies as objects of desire—a magical pill literally causes a boyfriend to materialize out of thin air in the film’s “Poolside” section—the currency with which the place is navigated. This is echoed in some of the queer art that comes in the wake of Boys in the Sand. The Andrew Holleran novel Dancer from the Dance (which uses one of Bianchi’s Polaroids as a cover photo in a recent reprint) is obsessed with the mythical image of Fire Island, populating it with characters who exist through gossip and assumption as much as through their own lives, much like the island itself, so it makes sense when Holleran writes: “we queens loathed rain at the beach, small cocks, and reality, i think, in that order.” None of these things exist in the images of Fire Island put forward by Poole and Bianchi; the sun is always out, and the real world is always on the other side of the water.
How one stayed at Fire Island is one of the other great dividers of the place. Poole himself acknowledges this in his Boys commentary, where he argues that the economics that defined much of the island came down to whether you came in on the ferry or owned your own boat. None of Poole’s characters seem to be on the lower end of the economic spectrum; the houses they stay in are nice, and the integration of domesticity—a lot of the characters in Boys want relationships beyond a sexual fling, and there’s an air of loneliness that exists in a push-and-pull dynamic with the possibility inherent on the Island—carries with it the idea of a kind of ownership that not everyone can afford. The idea of loneliness—both on and beyond Fire Island—is echoed in an interesting way in Bianchi’s Polaroids: it’s rare for any of his subjects’ faces to be seen, as if the specter of the world beyond the island stops them from revealing all of themselves to the camera.
This is one of the things that makes Fire Island such a strange, liminal place in queer art. It exists in a singular way, unlike anywhere else, and also unlike a real place. There’s a scene in Boys where a door is opened to seemingly nowhere, a sort of non-space that’s divorced even from the rest of the island. The episodic structure of the film—”beachside,” “poolside,” and “inside”—break the place down into a series of fragmented landscapes, at once connected and not connected to one another. This is never a place that people will stay in for the long-term, we know. Even if the domestic moments suggest some kind of future, it isn’t a future that’s possible here.
And yet, queer art keeps returning to Fire Island, this place that’s at once impermanent and inescapable. For Poole, much of the drama in Boys is the act of cruising itself: the slow-moving camera that follows the movements of his lonely lovers, the immediacy and intimacy that’s only available on Fire Island. For Bianchi, it’s a bright escapism, even if his images don’t always show all of their subjects—that incompleteness allows viewers to fill in the blanks, imagining their own dream man.
Holleran’s novel makes for a fascinating contrast with both Poole and Bianchi. He seems more willing to engage with the idea of the myth, where the others, knowingly or not, contributed instead to the act of myth-making. The echoes of Fire Island also echo some of the problems inherent in the ways that queer culture is understood. There’s a reason that the bodies across all these different media are so uniform, and one of the strangest, most compelling parts of the Fire Island myth is how explicit it is about the fact that freedom and joy won’t be offered to everyone who arrives. The thing that most clearly, most viscerally ties together the film, the photographs, and the novel are these bodies—their conventional, masculine attractiveness serving as a kind of shorthand for the acceptable face/facelessness of Fire Island, a small sample of the kind of men who are most likely to be accepted here. Even though the entrance to Fire Island is restricted—by how you look, by how much money you have—the return, season after season, still seems inevitable. It makes sense. All of these people, fictional or otherwise, escape here because the island offers them something that the real world won’t.
Sam Moore‘s writing on queerness, politics, and genre fiction in art has been published by the Los Angeles Review of Books, Little White Lies, Hyperallergic, and other places. Their poetry and experimental essays have been published in print and online, most recently in the Brixton Review of Books. If their writing didn’t already give it away, they’re into weird stuff.
I have another water-spirit/fey today. Unlike the undine, this one was on my list from day one. These creatures are from the Asturian area of Spain. I will admit, there are not a lot of X monsters out there.
Str: 8 (-1) Dex: 13 (+1) Con: 10 (0) Int: 10 (0) Wis: 10 (2) Cha: 20 (+4)
Xana are a type of water faerie that lives in cool rivers, streams, and freshwater ponds. They are described as beautiful with long curly brown or blond hair. They are similar to other water faeries in that they prefer to spend their time in their watery lairs.
They are social creatures, with several living in an area. Their lairs are under the water where they are 100% invisible.
They will leave their lairs to seek out mates. They can take their waters and make a weak love potion that will affect one male of her choice. They get a saving throw vs. poison. If they fail they are treated as if they have a charm person spell on them. A successful save means the potion had no effect. The children they have from these encounters, xanín, can’t be cared for by the xana. They will sneak into homes at night and leave their children in place of human babies.
Xanín will grow fast. The girls will seek out their mothers and join them. The boys will tend to grow up to become sailors.
Xana can cast spells as a 3rd level witch. They however will not attack physically. They will swim to the deepest part of their watery lairs.
There is a rumor of a smaller xana that feeds on children. These creatures are indistinguishable from other xana and are chaotic evil.
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There are a lot of water spirits and water fey out there. How to make them all different from each other will be my goal.
It would be disingenuous to claim that Greek and Norse Mythology were my only gateways to my obsession with Dungeons & Dragons. No. Like so many gamers before and after me my D&D games were heavily fueled by my love for Tolkein. I discovered the Hobbit around the same time I discovered D&D. So naturally while my games had a mythic feel, there was also a feeling of "leaving the Shire" to them.
It also doesn't hurt that I am listening to Led Zeppelin while working on this.
So much of Tolkein's DNA is threaded throughout this game, Gygax's testimonials to the contrary.
One of the most memorable creatures to me were the Barrow Wights from Fellowship of the Ring. The Wight from Basic and Advanced D&D was a thin imitation of those creatures in my mind.
Frequency: Very Rare
Number Appearing: 1d4 (1d4)
Alignment: Chaotic [Chaotic Evil]
Movement: 120' (40') [12"]
Armor Class: 3 [16]
Hit Dice: 6d8+6* (33 hp)
THAC0: 11 (+8)
Attacks: 1 touch + ability drain or weapon
Damage: 1d6+2 or weapon type
Special: ability drain, undead
Save: Monster 6
Morale: 12 (12)
Treasure Hoard Class: XXI (B)
XP: 650 (OSE) 680 (LL)
Str: 16 (+2) Dex: 14 (+1) Con: 13 (+1) Int: 12 (0) Wis: 10 (2) Cha: 6 (-1)
Barrow-wights are greater undead of fierce warriors. They remember their lives from before and are fast, dangerous, and particularly deadly. They are usually encountered in the ancient burial mounds that give them their name, barrows. Wight is an older word for a man, or more commonly, a fighting man.
The most horrific attack of these creatures is their ability to drain the life force of their victims. A successfully hit a target loses one point of the Constitution. This incurs a loss of any bonus hit points, as well as all other benefits due to the drained ability. A person drained of all constitution becomes a wight (common wight) in 1d4 days, under the control of the barrow wight that killed them
As undead, these creatures make no noise until they attack. They are immune to effects that affect living creatures (e.g., poison). Additionally, they are immune to mind-affecting or mind-reading spells (e.g., charm, esp, hold, sleep).
Barrow-wights can only be harmed by magic. They are turned as 6 HD creatures, or as Spectres.
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This is closer to the creature I remember fighting in my summers of the 80s.
Like many of my undead, I have done aways with "level drain" and replaced it with ability drain. I just like the feel of it better and it is a threat to both low-level and high-level characters. Undead should always be scary.
Yeah. That's a lot.
I have said it before but long before I was known as "the Witch guy" I was known as "the Vampire guy."
I have talked about my origins of the Basic Bestiary before. My love of Greek, Norse, and Celtic myth, old "monster movies" with my dad, and the day I picked up the AD&D Monster Manual for the first time. BB is my love letter to the MM. But it is not my first monster book, it is just the first one I am going to publish. I have sitting on my hard drives monster books that go all the way back to my earliest days. Some of these monsters have been revived in my various witch books. Many have been posted here. Among the files I have here and there there is one that is really old.
File "necro.txt" contains all the undead monsters I hand-typed from the Monster Manual, Fiend Folio, and Monster Manual II plus all the undead I could get from Dragon magazine and all the ones I made up. There are over 150 creatures in that file. Many of them are vampires.
Now the issue I have now is not whether to stat up all these creatures (I already have in some places) but how many to include as full monster entries and which ones are just AKAs.
So instead of posting a monster today (I did Vampires in the 2015 A to Z) I thought I might instead post the list of possible ones and see how I might combine, rearrange or otherwise categorize.
When I talked about the Undine on Saturday I mentioned large categories. Vampires will be a category in BB1.
Vampires
Vampires are among the most fearsome and feared of the undead. Unlike most undead creatures the vampire can often pass for a living creature. Moreso they charming, both in terms of personality and in magical ability, they are physically strong (19+) and difficult to kill. Vampires exist for a long time so many are also quite intelligent (16+) and have mundane and supernatural protections in place.
As undead, the vampire has all the following features of a corporeal undead creature. They do not need to check for morale and are immune to fear effects from spells or other creatures. They are susceptible to the Turning effects of clerics or other holy warriors. They are immune to the effects of Charm, Sleep and Hold spells or other mind-affecting magic.
Vampires take 1d6+1 hit points of damage from Holy Water and it is treated as though it were acid. As corporeal undead slashing and piercing damage of weapons are largely ineffective since their damage is done to vital organs or blood loss. Vampires take no damage from mundane weapons. Silvered piercing or slashing weapons only do 1 hp per hit. Magic weapons calculate damage per normal. Vampires only take half damage from electrical or cold attacks. They are immune to paralysis, poison or any gas-based weapon.
Most vampires drain blood to survive. This is done at the rate of 2 Constitution points per attack unless otherwise stated. Vampires also regenerate 3 hp per round.
Many vampires have alternate shapes they can assume. Most common are animals of the night and gaseous forms. Others may become moonlight or stranger things. All vampires need to rest at some point. Many are vulnerable to the light of the sun and all have at least some sunlight weakness. VAmpires also have common items that will repel them, such as garlic, a mirror, or rice, and nearly all will be forced back by holy symbols.
All vampires have a unique means to kill them these are detailed in each entry. Often this is what sets one type of vampire from the other.
Unless otherwise noted, all Vampires turn as Vampires.
Vampire (Base)--
And there you go! Clicking on the links above is like doing archeology into my ever-changing and adapting stat-block.
I did include some AKAs in the list above and those will likely just be a paragraph in the main entry of what makes them different. AS I work the remaining monster up I am likely to discover more.
This list though makes me wonder if I need yet another Basic Bestiary just for the undead. I know I have enough. But will it make my first book too light?
Here is where I am at right now. Aberration (0), Beast (24), Celestial (9), Construct (12), Dragon (5), Elemental (7), Fey (73), Fiend (0), Giant (4), Humanoid (45), Monstrosity (8), Ooze (0), Plant (3), Undead (71), Vermin (0), Total (261).
Removing the 71 undead would make the book stand at 190 monsters right now. I still have to add all those vampires, so 120+ undead creatures total? Would make for smaller books, and thus cheaper ones. Fiends are already going into their own book, Basic Bestiary II.
What do you all think?
1974 is an important year for the gaming hobby. It is the year that Dungeons & Dragons was introduced, the original RPG from which all other RPGs would ultimately be derived and the original RPG from which so many computer games would draw for their inspiration. It is fitting that the current owner of the game, Wizards of the Coast, released the new version, Dungeons & Dragons, Fifth Edition, in the year of the game’s fortieth anniversary. To celebrate this, Reviews from R’lyeh will be running a series of reviews from the hobby’s anniversary years, thus there will be reviews from 1974, from 1984, from 1994, and from 2004—the thirtieth, twentieth, and tenth anniversaries of the titles. These will be retrospectives, in each case an opportunity to re-appraise interesting titles and true classics decades on from the year of their original release.
—oOo—Got a nice treat in the mail last week.
Rahasia is one of the next adventures I will be running in my War of the Witch Queens campaign for Basic-era D&D. I have a copy of the original B7 version, but I thought a Print on Demand would be nice to have as well.
I was not wrong.
As with all the PoD modules from the TSR era the maps are not printed on the inside covers but rather as pages. Not a huge deal to be honest, just make sure you buy the PDF as well and print them out at home.
I had hoped that Rahasia's letter had been cleaned up. It hasn't. But the source version was difficult to read as well. I had to retype it so I could have it ready for my War of the Witch Queens game.
To get this once rare and hard-to-find adventure for just under 12 bucks (I paid $11.99 total) is a really great deal, to be honest.
Rahasia Links