In 2013, Cubicle 7 Entertainment celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of the world’s longest running Science Fiction television series, Doctor Who, with the ambitious launch of a series of sourcebooks for its Ennie-award winning Doctor Who: Adventures in Time and Space roleplaying game. Beginning with The First Doctor Sourcebook, each of these would detail the complete era of one individual Doctor, his adventures, his companions, his character and outlook, the monsters he faced, and the themes of his incarnation, all supported with content that the Game Master can bring into her own campaign. The result has been a very well done series of sourcebooks that in turn has enabled the Game Master and her players to explore the different eras—all twelve of them to date, though there are more to come—and run adventures set during this period and encounter monsters and threats from this period. Ten years on and in 2023, the sixtieth anniversary of Doctor Who was celebrated. What would the publisher release to celebrate the world’s longest running Science Fiction television series this time around? The answer is Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure.

Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure is a two volume set which together provides an overview of Doctor Who, his Companions and adventures, themes and adversaries, from the First Doctor to the Thirteenth Doctor—and not only that, but the Fugitive Doctor too! Plus, the two volumes include a complete campaign between them, ‘A Lustre of Starlight’, which encompasses every Doctor and more. The two volumes of Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure are divided into Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One and Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two. Both are, of course, written for use with with Doctor Who: The Roleplaying Game – Second Edition, but easily compatible with the first edition. Doctor Who: Adventures in Time and Space roleplaying game. Each book details a different era of the television series. Thus Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One examines the First Doctor all the way up to the Eighth Doctor, essentially ‘Classic Who’, whilst Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two details the period of the Ninth Doctor to the Thirteenth Doctor (and the Fugitive Doctor) before acknowledging at least visually, the Fourteenth Doctor, which of course, is all ‘Nu Who’.

Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One introduced both the pair of volumes in the series and to Doctor Who, explaining its origins and history from its inception in 1963 to the beginning of its interregnum following the Doctor Who film in 1996, before explore the eras, companions, and adventures of the First Doctor through to the Eighth Doctor as well presenting the first eight parts of ‘A Lustre of Starlight’, a campaign that ultimately all of the Doctors detailed in the two volumes. Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two picks up where Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One left off with another introduction. This though, is not of Doctor Who in general as with the first volume, but of what it calls ‘The Revival Era’. This gives an overview of the last—almost—two decades and thirteen series of Doctor Who, including the Fiftieth Anniversary, as well highlighting the differences between the old the new. Not just the budget, of course, and the single story episodes, but with the arrival of the Ninth Doctor and his encounter with Rose Tyler in ‘Rose’, how the stories of Doctor Who were not just about the adventures of man—and with era, woman as well—in a blue box that could travel in time and space, but about his companions too and how they reacted to and were changed by those adventures and their time with the Doctor. In roleplaying terms, what this sets up is a greater role for the Companions. They cannot be the Doctor or even his equal—except under very special circumstances, because there are always circumstances—but they can run alongside him, be the best that they can hope to be, and see the universe and the future and the past all at the same time.

The format for each volume in the Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure set is the same for each Doctor. Every Doctor’s era opens with an introduction, asks who each Doctor is and who his Companions are, what the themes of the era are, gives an overview of his adventures, and details both the Doctor and each of his campions, complete with stats for use with Doctor Who: The Roleplaying Game – Second Edition. Each of these sections is given a couple of pages each, with the section dedicated to the adventures typically being double that, though there are exceptions and for very good reason. Rounding out chapter is the next part of ‘A Lustre of Starlight’, the campaign which runs throughout both books.
Thus, for the Tenth Doctor, he is unlike the initially callous and slightly arrogant Ninth Doctor, who carries the burden of his predecessor’s actions and his belief that he destroyed Galifrey to prevent the Daleks from winning the Time War, and so is direct and forceful in manner. He would retain many of these characteristics throughout his Generation, but the presence and influence of Rose enables him to heal and his manner to soften. The Tenth Doctor retains the smile of his predecessor, but otherwise is younger, more energetic, and always, always running. His combination of compassion and pride will see him confront danger after danger, attempt to reason with the madness and the madmen of the universe, but ultimately be his undoing. The themes of the Tenth Doctor revolve around change. There is the change in the place of the Earth in the universe in the twenty-first century, because this is the era when humanity is confronted by the fact that they are not alone in that universe, and there is change in terms of how the earth is protected. First with the founding the Torchwood Institute following the werewolf attack on Queen Victoria in 1879 and then its destruction and collapse following the Battle of Canary Wharf.
The Tenth Doctor’s companions begin with Rose Tyler, who like so many before her must adjust to the radical change in manner and appearance in the Time Lord she had come to know, but they quickly joined by her boyfriend, Mickey Smith, followed by the brave Martha Jones who would go on to work for UNIT, and lastly the brilliantly brash and curious Donna Noble and her reliable grandfather, Wilfred Mott. The run through of all the Tenth Doctor’s adventures has a lot to cover, so does feel slightly underwritten and all too brief, which is an issue the pervades the supplement for all of its Doctors and those of the first volumes. Thankfully, nearly all of the Doctors in this volume have their own supplement which details their adventures, adversaries, and so on in much more detail, beginning with The Tenth Doctor Sourcebook. The chapter comes to a close with the next part of the campaign which runs through both volumes of Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure. This format and level of examination is repeated over and over throughout the book.
There are two chapters that are notable exceptions to this format. This is because of the paucity of information upon which to base a chapter as fulsome as those devoted to the Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, Twelfth, and Thirteenth Doctors, either because the Doctor made only the single extended appearance or a series of quite fleeting appearances. These are chapters devoted to the War Doctor, the unacknowledged Doctor between the Eighth Doctor and the Ninth Doctor and the Fugitive Doctor who appeared very late in the adventures of the Thirteenth Doctor. The inclusion of the War Doctor and the Fugitive Doctor top and tail the chapters in the book, and where the other Doctors have their adventures and companions detailed, neither of them have their adventures so described. After all, there is a dearth of adventures upon which they can draw upon and it is the exact same problem that beset The Eighth Doctor Sourcebook. Where the War Doctor has no companions (though one os suggested for his adventure), the Fugitive Doctor does have one in the form of Karvanista, the Lupari Warrior, who is bound to Dan Lewis, but adventured with the Fugitive Doctor long in the past. Here at both the beginning and the end of the sourcebook is where Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two is at its most interesting, examining the unexplored possibilities of Doctors whose stories have yet to be, and indeed, may never, be told.
The campaign, ‘A Lustre of Starlight’, begun in Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One, continues exploring the fate of the Taaron Ka, a mysterious diamond—perfect then for what is a treatment of the sixtieth anniversary of Doctor Who—over the course of thousands of years of history. Each part runs to three pages and three acts and is a complete story in itself, the connective thread being the diamond itself. As written, each part is designed to be played using the Doctor and his Companions of that era. For example, in ‘The Dalek Death Diamond’ for The War Doctor must team up with the Rani in a charge up the tower of a Gallifreyan time station in order to prevent the daleks getting hold of a Time Lord weapon of war, whilst for Ninth Doctor, ‘The Diamond Heist’ takes both him and Rose to south-east France towards the end of World War 2 where they team up with photographer Lee Miller to investigate an abandoned town where the Nazis have teamed up with aliens! The Tenth Doctor attends an auction on the dark side of the Moon in ‘Green with Envy’, whilst in ‘Search for the Stars’, the Eleventh Doctor comes to the aid of an Indian Space Agency mission on Mars that tumbles into the Ice Warriors. ‘Debt Repaid’ is set in twenty-first century India which is where Kate Stewart of UNIT sends the Twelfth Doctor where the Taaron Ka diamond was almost stolen and is likely to be stolen again, as is ‘Reparations’ for the Thirteenth Doctor, but in 1950, where the Taaron Ka diamond is being returned to its rightful place despite the objection of outside criminal interests.
Lastly, the secrets of the Taaron Ka diamond begin to be hinted at in ‘Division of Angels’ as the Fugitive Doctor and Karvanista, on the run from the Division and attempting to find something which will give them an advantage when dealing with the Division. This takes them deep into the Earth’s past and deep underground for a much more physical and combative encounter with the Weeping Angels. In general and as written, the episodes that make up the ‘A Lustre of Starlight’ campaign suggest three Player Characters—the Doctor and two Companions—but this does not strictly have to be adhered to. Each part should take no more than one or two sessions play through. Of course, a group is also free to create their own Timelord and set of Companions to play through the campaign, but if played as written, the players should swap roles from episode to episode based on preferences or bring in different Companions as needed.
This though changes with ‘An Unearthly Power’, the last part of the campaign, given in the first of the supplement’s two appendices. The Doctors—at least two, if not more, potentially all fifteen (not counting the Fifteenth, because he is not detailed in this supplement)—arrive, one by one, on a ‘Mystery Murder Cruise’ with a sixties theme on a steamship in the North Sea. This allows the players to go full Doctor, to each play one of the incarnations of the Doctor, their favourites bouncing off each other as personalities and quirks clash. Or possibly to dive deeper into troupe style play so that not only the players roleplaying their favourite Doctors, but their companions too! Where the previous adventures felt all too brief, this is a much more developed affair and so feels more realised and playable as a result. Consequently, this is the best adventure in the whole campaign, and it is a pity that others are each like a précis than fully rounded affairs.
Lastly, the second of the appendices in Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two looks at an aspect integral to the Doctor and Doctor Who over its sixty years—‘Regeneration’. This is a solid guide to the process and what it involves, drawing from the multiple times that the Doctor has regenerated.
Physically, Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two is superbly done. The cover is eye-catching and has a lovely tactile feel to it with the combination of lightly embossed text and the contrast between gloss and mat. The book is well written and laid out, but does need a slight edit here and there. There is, though, a nice use of colour and tone throughout. The paintings of each Doctor at the start of their respective chapters are excellent.
One thing that each volume does acknowledge is that the amount of information on the various Doctors is limited and that more information—in fact, much more information of each Doctor can be found in his or her respective sourcebook. This is also aided by the compatibility between the two editions of the roleplaying game. It is also a limitation for each volume, since there is going to be information in those sourcebooks which is not included in either of this set. Of course, neither volume of Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure is intended to be the definitive guide to a particular Doctor, but rather an overview of each era. For that, the reader and the Game Master will need access to the thirteen or so sourcebooks. Instead, each volume of Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure is something else.

As we reach—and pass—the sixtieth anniversary of Doctor Who, both Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One and Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two are a chance for the Game Master and her players to look back as the series moves forward with first the Fourteenth Doctor and second the Fifteenth Doctor, now newly arrived with his first series. It provides an overview of what has gone before and gives them a chance to visit that past and decide whether they want to explore it in more depth with the other sourcebooks. Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two continues the examination of what has gone before begun in Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One by looking back at the first two decades (or so) of Doctor Who’s revival in an entertaining and engaging fashion. Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two completes the pair, giving a solid introduction to roleplaying in the era of ‘Nu Who’ with the knowledge that there is more available.
Of the two, Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book One is the more interesting overall, because it is all in the past, and less familiar, but the Doctor Who: Sixty Years of Adventure Book Two has the most interesting content because it does encompass both the War Doctor and the Fugitive Doctor, both incarnations with untapped potential and scope for different stories.
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Cubicle 7 Entertainment will be at UK Games Expo which takes place on Friday, May 31st to Sunday June 2nd, 2024.

Quick-starts are means of trying out a roleplaying game before you buy. Each should provide a Game Master with sufficient background to introduce and explain the setting to her players, the rules to run the scenario included, and a set of ready-to-play, pre-generated characters that the players can pick up and understand almost as soon as they have sat down to play. The scenario itself should provide an introduction to the setting for the players as well as to the type of adventures that their characters will have and just an idea of some of the things their characters will be doing on said adventures. All of which should be packaged up in an easy-to-understand booklet whose contents, with a minimum of preparation upon the part of the Game Master, can be brought to the table and run for her gaming group in a single evening’s session—or perhaps too. And at the end of it, Game Master and players alike should ideally know whether they want to play the game again, perhaps purchasing another adventure or even the full rules for the roleplaying game.

Alternatively, if the Game Master already has the full rules for the roleplaying game for the quick-start is for, then what it provides is a sample scenario that she can still run as an introduction or even as part of her campaign for the roleplaying game. The ideal quick-start should entice and intrigue a playing group, but above all effectively introduce and teach the roleplaying game, as well as showcase both rules and setting.

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What is it?Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules introduces the roleplaying game of the Undead in the Wild West. The Player Characters are the undead residents of Bardo’s Bluff—Skeletons, Zombies, Ghouls, and Vampires—who have returned to their unlife following their wrongful deaths, whether by accident or wrongly executed for a crime they did not commit.

It is an thirty page, full colour book.

The quick-start is decently illustrated with some excellent maps.

How long will it take to play?
Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules can be played through in a single session, or two sessions at most.

What else do you need to play?
Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules requires multiple six-sided dice.

Where is it set?
Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules is set in and around the town of Bardo’s Bluff, a sanctuary located in California governed by vampires who keep the peace, but there is always something or someone determined to make their lives hell.

Who do you play?
There are four ready-to-play Player Characters given in Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules. They consist of a Skeleton Bounty Hunter, a Ghoul Gravedigger, a Zombie Ranch Hand, and a Vampire Preacher.

How is a Player Character defined?
A Player Character has four attributes—Strength, Agility, Wits, and Empathy—and a single stat, Life Force, plus one or more skills. He also has an Undead Form, a Former Life, and a Wrongful Death. Each Undead Form provides an Undead Boon, an Undead Hindrance, and a form of Healing. For example, has the Undead Boon of ‘Hard Target’, which means that all attacks against it, except at Close range, are at a Disadvantage and the Undead Hindrance is ‘Rattle of Bones’, which imposes a penalty on all Sneak checks because of noise he makes. His means of healing is to use the bones of any dead to repair himself.

How do the mechanics work?
Mechanically, Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules and thus Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG, uses the Year Zero engine, first seen in Mutant: Year Zero – Roleplaying at the End of Days. To have a Player Character undertake an action, a player rolls a number of dice equal to a combination of attribute and skill. A single roll of a six indicates a success. Multiple successes improve the outcome, especially in combat and conflict. 

If no sixes are rolled, the action fails. However, the Law Master—as the Game Master—can decide that the action succeeds, but with consequences. Alternatively, if the roll is a failure and no sixes are rolled, or a player wants more successes, he can Push the roll. This enables him to reroll any dice which did not result in a one or six. A roll can be Pushed once and any rolls of one on the Base Dice indicate that the Player Character has failed, but with greater consequences as the Law Master determines.

A roll can be made with Advantage or Disadvantage. Rolling with Advantage means that the player can Push the roll, but not suffer the consequences of any ones rolled. Rolling with Disadvantage means that the player cannot Push the roll.

How does combat work?
Conflict in Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules uses the same core mechanics. The rules for conflict cover both ranged and close combat, or ‘Scuffles’, as well as special attacks such as wrestling and grappling, ambushes and mounted combat. The rules are a very cut down version of those available in the Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG core book, so the Law Master and her players will have to adjudicate in more complex situations. Nevertheless, they are serviceable enough.

There are no rules for social conflict and the Law Master will need to judge the use of the ‘Poker Face’ skill on a case-by-case basis.

What do you play?
The adventure in Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules is ‘Showdown at Scorpion Gulch’. A Warmblood bounty hunter comes to Bardo’s Bluff, offering the Player Characters the chance to come to the aid of a recently risen revenant before she has to kill them. They will have to travel north to the Warmblood town of Scorpion Gulch via mystical means and there determine where he has gone, persuade him that they are there to rescue him, and deal with rogue undead who would take advantage of the situation. 

The scenario includes two maps. These are decently done, as is the map of Death Valley

Is it easy to prepare?
The core rules presented in Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules are easy to prepare, especially if the Law Master has any experience with the Year Zero engine. The scenario itself is quite straightforward and overall, it requires very little in the way of preparation.
Is it worth it?
Yes. The Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules are a solid introduction to both its setting and its concepts, which are very easy to grasp as everyone is familiar with the Wild West and likely familiar with the Undead! 
Where can you get it?
The Death Valley: A Horror/Western TTRPG – Quick-Start Rules is available for purchase here.

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Critical Kit will be at UK Games Expo which takes place on Friday, May 31st to Sunday June 2nd, 2024.

A year ago, the astronomer Giovanni Conti died and his student, Vincenzo Costa, set out to fulfil his last oath to his master. That is to protect his master’s work, which the Roman Inquisition and the church has good reason to be heretical. Thus, he took several tomes and notebooks from Giovanni Conti’s Florence villa and hid them around the city. Since then, Costa’s work has enabled him to revisit these locations and check that the books are still there. However, now they are missing. In desperation, he hires the Player Characters. They will need to check on the former locations and follow up on the clues that Costa will give them. This will lead them to a cult which has stolen the books for their astronomical knowledge and is using to bring about the culmination of its aims—the summoning of a second God. So far, the activities of the cult, the Cult of Secundus Deus, have not attracted the attention of either the city authorities or the Roman Inquisition, so both activities and beliefs are heretical. Of course, there is the possibility of the Player Characters’ investigation attracting the attention of the city authorities and ending up before the magistrates…

This is the set-up for The Jovian Visitor, a scenario for Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplaying published by Lamentations of the Flame Princess. Designed to be played by three to five Player Characters of First to Third Level, it is written by Glynn Seal, best known as the creator of the Midderlands Old School Renaissance setting, this is, thankfully, a much simpler, shorter, and above all, cleaner affair than his previously, quite literally, excrescent Faecal Lands. Set in Florence in 1642, The Jovian Visitor can also work as a sequel to Galileo 2: Judgment Day. That scenario involved the persecution of the famed astronomer Galileo Galilei by Pope Urban VIII using a Automaton or ‘L’Assassino Meccanico’, and the attempt by the astronomer to escape his house arrest and the mechanical man who has been tormenting him. Now neither Galileo Galilei, or his assistant, Vincenzo Viviani, actually appear in The Jovian Visitor, Giovanni Conti and his student, Vincenzo Costa, are modelled on them. Replacing them with their real world counterparts is easy to do, and it makes the scenario more interesting if the Player Characters encountered him when playing through the events of Galileo 2: Judgment Day.
The investigation itself is relatively straightforward. Vincenzo Costa will be able to furnish the Player Characters with some initial leads, including the locations where he hid the four books and the identity of a previous assistant. Following these will lead them down a number of blind alleys and possibly into punch-ups with the citizens of Florence if they irk them too much or getting arrested by the city watch of they cannot explain their interest in the four locations across the city. It is encounter with the latter that the scenario is at its weakest, not quite explaining what the outcome is if the Player Characters are brought before the city magistrates. If, however, the Player Characters can avoid entanglements with the authorities, they will also learn that they are being watched by a mysterious lady in red. It turns out that she is an important figure in the Cult of Secundus Deus, and will go out of her way to persuade the Player Characters to curb their interest in the books.
Coloured a little by a random encounter or two, persistent Player Characters should soon learn that something is going on in the woods on the hills to the north of the city, where flashes of light have been seen in the sky. Clues found there point to the imminent fruition of the plans of the Cult of Secundus Deus. Can the Player Characters act in time to prevent the summoning of the Second God? And if he is not a god, just what is he? That though, is not something that the Player Characters, or indeed, the whole world really wants to find out.
Physically, The Jovian Visitor is well presented. The artwork is decent, and of course, the cartography is excellent. The map of Florence, in particular, is very nice.
The Jovian Visitor is a short affair, easily played through in a single session, two at most. It has the feel of Lovecraftian investigative horror scenario, though of course, without the Mythos, and that is no bad thing. That it can work as a sequel to Galileo 2: Judgment Day is a bonus, but even on its own, it is a serviceable, if short little mystery that can easily be added to a campaign or adapted to fit elsewhere. That is a whole lot cleaner than the last book from the author for Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplaying is a double bonus!
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DISCLAIMER: The author of this review is an editor who has both edited titles for Lamentations of the Flame Princess on a freelance basis and edited titles for the author of this book on a freelance basis. He was not involved in the production of this book and his connection to both publisher and author has no bearing on the resulting review.

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Lamentations of the Flame Princess will be at UK Games Expo which takes place on Friday, May 31st to Sunday June 2nd, 2024.

Lets hit some stretch goals!

Thirteen Parsecs

http://tinyurl.com/13psignuptim

Thirteen Parsecs is funded!

We want this game to be your sci-fi RPG of choice, so help us make that happen.

This uses the same O.G.R.E.S. as NIGHT SHIFT and Wasted Lands. There will be "Solar Frontiers," which are mini-settings you can use to start your game. My Solar Frontiers will be "Space Truckers" and the currently titled "Dark Stars" my "horror in space" setting.

And this one from my friend David Flor and Darklight Entertainment.

Atomic Age

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/dlimedia/atomic-age?ref=theotherside

This is a new sci-fi post-apocalyptic d20-based game from David Flor and Dark Light Interactive. 

It looks like a lot of fun, and is going for that "Gamma World" vibe.  The core rules look fun, but the bestiary has me all kinds of excited. 

There is a Quick Start preview you can grab for free. 

So definitely check this one out!

 A shift in narrative as we watch the correspondence between Miss Mina Murray and Miss Lucy Westenra.

Letter from Miss Mina Murray to Miss Lucy Westenra.

“9 May.

“My dearest Lucy,—

“Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan’s studies, and I have been practising shorthand very assiduously. When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I am practising very hard. He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don’t mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in whenever I feel inclined. I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people; but it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do: interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I am longing to hear all his news. It must be so nice to see strange countries. I wonder if we—I mean Jonathan and I—shall ever see them together. There is the ten o’clock bell ringing. Good-bye.

“Your loving
“Mina.

“Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man???”

--

Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

We are introduced to Lucy and Mina here. Often swapped in movie adaptations. Mina will be married to Harker and Lucy...well poor Lucy will victim to Dracula. Not now, but soon.

The rumors are of a curly-haired man are one of Lucy's three suitors. This one is Arthur "Art" Holmwood (later the Lord Godalming). 

  That time again when I reach into the pile of Dragons under my desk and pull out one to read. This month, I am focusing on sci-fi, so in a bit of a cheat, I am pulling from the small selection of sci-fi-themed Dragons. Today's Dragon #183 comes to us from the summer of 1992. It's July; I just finished my undergrad degree and working on my Masters. My best friend from all over the world also graduated, but she is finishing up another bachelor's degree and will be moving to Chicago in a month or so. No. I am not ready for this. Spoiler: We decide in February of 1993 to start dating. Can't do it while we live in the same town I guess, have to wait till we are 300 miles apart. We are still married.  In the theatres, "A League of Their Own" is number 1. Mariah Carey is at #1 with "I'll Be There," and on the shelves and gaming tables everywhere is Issue #183 of This Old Dragon. 

Our cover this month is from Mike L. Scott and features Spelljammer "space whales" called Kindori. I noticed my oldest was prepping a new Spelljammer game, so I asked him if he knew about these guys.

So, at this point, I was not reading Dragon regularly. I knew of this issue, but nothing really about it. 

We were hit with some ads right away, which I enjoyed. One is for a Doctor Doom supplement for Marvel Super Heroes, and another is for Dungeons of Mystery. Dungeons of Mystery features the concept art and not the final art. The concept art has a solid "Mystara" feel to it that I rather like. Flipping the page more TSR ads for the new Dragonlance book and Aurora's Whole Realms Catalogue.  I am not that familiar with this one outside of the name, I will have to track it down.

We get to the Contents and learn this month's special feature is Science and Fantasy. Great!

Letters cover a bunch of quick-shot answers from past issues in a rapid-fire fashion. I see the Witch from #114 is still stirring the pot, er, cauldron. 

Roger Moore's Editorial covers how to adapt some fantasy books to your AD&D game. There is a picture of four books, including The Princess Bride, but he only talks about two of them, "The Face in the Frost" and "The Last Unicorn."  He does mention he ran out of space and time for the others.

Bruce Nesmith is up first for our feature with Magic & Technology Meet At Last in his notes on converting AD&D 2nd Ed and Gamma World 4th Ed. Thankfully, it seems to be a bit easier than I expected since they are more closely related than I originally knew. Plus Gamma World essentially is using the d20 to hit AC mechanic we will later see in D&D 3rd Edition and the d20 rules. 

Advice to a High Lord is from Martin Wixted. It is interesting for a couple of reasons. First off it is copyrighted, so likely one of the articles that would cause so much drama when the Dragon CD-ROM came out, and it is about West End Games' TORG. So a rare non-TSR game. Though at this time they were still being featured, soon all other game support would drop.  I don't know much about TORG really. I saw people playing it when I would pop over to the Student Center when they had their RPG open games, but never played. I still see it a lot at Gen Con.

Speaking of which. Small ad for the combined Gen Con/Origins game show. 

People love pirates. Well...I admit I don't, but they are popular. "Avast, ye swaps, and heave to!" by Richard Baker III covers pirates and privateering in AD&D Spelljammer. While not a lot of mechanics, there is some good stuff here. It should work for AD&D 2nd Ed and the 5th Ed material my kid was reading over.

Ah...Now this looks fun. Unidentified Gaming Objects brings UFOs to your Fantasy RPG. Gregory W. Detwiler gives us great overview of what is going on in the skies a full year before the X-Files hit our TV screens. He provides a lot of what we might call "Conspiracy theories" today and gives you a way to work them into your games. A lot of these would be fantastic for *D&D. Though I am disappointed that in his otherwise great coverage on the Hollow Earth he doesn't mention Mystara as Hollow, published two years prior. His Bibliography is really good for pre-Internet publications. I would use these all in NIGHT SHIFT.

Game Science has a cool ad for the RANGE 1 electronic dice roller. After my CS 212 and STAT 501 courses, I learned about pseudorandom numbers. I never allowed these things in my games. Which was a moot point because I could never afford them back then! But still, I did like the idea.

Convention Calendar has your summer vacation travel plans ready. Oh, wait. I was in grad school then, I didn't get a summer vacation. In fact it was either 1992 or 1993 (can't remember) when the State of Illinois did not meet its budget and all workers, including Graduate TAs, were furloughed. I didn't get paid all summer long. That's why I could not afford fancy dice rollers. Anyway the format here has changed on the Calendar and it is easier to see the various states faster and easier.

FASA is up with a ShadowRun 2nd Edition ad. I loved ShadowRun, I loved the world building. I just wish I could have played it more. WAIT I can if I combine NIGHT SHIFT with Thirteen Parsecs! Note to Self, try this. 

Dragon Magazine 90s MVP, and friend of the Other Side, Bruce Heard is up with Part 30 of The Voyage of the Princess Ark. Second Note to Self: Track down all of these and review them in order. As usual there is a narrative piece and some game material too. 

Role Playing Reviews by Rick Swan covers the Leading Edge Games version of Aliens and FASA's MECHWARRIOR 2nd Edition. They get 2.5 and 3.5 stars respectively. Swan mentions he does not see the appeal of the Aliens franchise, so I wonder if that affects his review at all. BUT given my own personal experiences with Leading Edge Games, he might be right.

The Lesser Clan of Hartly, Patrica, and Kirk are back with more The Role of Computers. They look forward to the time when CD-ROMs lower the price of games not having to ship floppy disks! Yeah... They do review the first Civilization game which they rightfully give 5 stars. It is amazing what these old games used to be able to do with the limited hardware of the day. Granted, we didn't see it that way; I had my first Gateway 2000 computer and I thought I was living in the damn future.

Jean Rabe is up with an oddly placed (given the theme) The Vikings' Dragons, Part 2. This is a set of five linnorm dragons in AD&D Monstrous Compendium format ready to put into your binders. Love the idea, really, and the dragons are fun. Part 1 appeared in issue 182.

TSR Previews lets us know what is coming for July 1992. Most of these are featured as ads in this very magazine. 

Ardath Mayhar has our short fiction, Gryphon's Nest.

The MARVEL-PHILE from Steven E. Schend covers Cerise and Kylun from the Excalibur series. 

Forum covers some deeper discussions. I see some familiar names here like Alan Kellogg. 

Role of Books with John C. Bunnell has the new novels gamers might be interested in. Among those listed is new author, Laurell K. Hamilton and her Nightseer book. I bet she will be a big name later on! Also featured is the new one from Michael A. Stackpole (yes, that one).

Skip Williams has more Sage Advice. Anne Brown has shopping advice for your characters in The Game Wizards.

Dragonmirth has our back-pages comics. I recognize Yamara certainly. The Twilight Empire is features too. I never followed it. I should make an effort to try sometime. 

Gamers Guide has our small ads. Ads to cast your own metal minis, t-shirts with dragons, play-by-mail, and a new idea, computer-simulated galaxies. I can tell some of these were made with the Mac version of PageMaker and then printed out and sent to Dragon. Not a criticism, more fondness.

Ah, now something very interesting. Through the Looking Glass by Robert Bigalow covers minis but spends the first page discussing the banning of lead miniatures due to governmental regulations on lead. I remember this and felt like I was just getting to a point where I could afford them and then they go away! Well, I can't recall where that shook out, but plastic rules the tables now.

All in all, not a bad issue, just not as much science fiction as I wanted.

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Remember, we have a new crowdfunding campaign to fund the production of our Thirteen Parsecs: Beyond the Solar Frontier Tabletop RPG. Please help us out if you can. If you can't pledge, then help us by sharing the links with all your friends. 

 Jonathan is beginning to sense things are not 100% what they seem in Castle Dracula and he is a prisoner here.

8 May.—I began to fear as I wrote in this book that I was getting too diffuse; but now I am glad that I went into detail from the first, for there is something so strange about this place and all in it that I cannot but feel uneasy. I wish I were safe out of it, or that I had never come. It may be that this strange night-existence is telling on me; but would that that were all! If there were any one to talk to I could bear it, but there is no one. I have only the Count to speak with, and he!—I fear I am myself the only living soul within the place. Let me be prosaic so far as facts can be; it will help me to bear up, and imagination must not run riot with me. If it does I am lost. Let me say at once how I stand—or seem to.

I only slept a few hours when I went to bed, and feeling that I could not sleep any more, got up. I had hung my shaving glass by the window, and was just beginning to shave. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard the Count’s voice saying to me, “Good-morning.” I started, for it amazed me that I had not seen him, since the reflection of the glass covered the whole room behind me. In starting I had cut myself slightly, but did not notice it at the moment. Having answered the Count’s salutation, I turned to the glass again to see how I had been mistaken. This time there could be no error, for the man was close to me, and I could see him over my shoulder. But there was no reflection of him in the mirror! The whole room behind me was displayed; but there was no sign of a man in it, except myself. This was startling, and, coming on the top of so many strange things, was beginning to increase that vague feeling of uneasiness which I always have when the Count is near; but at the instant I saw that the cut had bled a little, and the blood was trickling over my chin. I laid down the razor, turning as I did so half round to look for some sticking plaster. When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.

“Take care,” he said, “take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country.” Then seizing the shaving glass, he went on: “And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man’s vanity. Away with it!” and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

When I went into the dining-room, breakfast was prepared; but I could not find the Count anywhere. So I breakfasted alone. It is strange that as yet I have not seen the Count eat or drink. He must be a very peculiar man! After breakfast I did a little exploring in the castle. I went out on the stairs, and found a room looking towards the South. The view was magnificent, and from where I stood there was every opportunity of seeing it. The castle is on the very edge of a terrible precipice. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! As far as the eye can reach is a sea of green tree tops, with occasionally a deep rift where there is a chasm. Here and there are silver threads where the rivers wind in deep gorges through the forests.

But I am not in heart to describe beauty, for when I had seen the view I explored further; doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit.

The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner!

CHAPTER III

JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL—continued

WHEN I found that I was a prisoner a sort of wild feeling came over me. I rushed up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out of every window I could find; but after a little the conviction of my helplessness overpowered all other feelings. When I look back after a few hours I think I must have been mad for the time, for I behaved much as a rat does in a trap. When, however, the conviction had come to me that I was helpless I sat down quietly—as quietly as I have ever done anything in my life—and began to think over what was best to be done. I am thinking still, and as yet have come to no definite conclusion. Of one thing only am I certain; that it is no use making my ideas known to the Count. He knows well that I am imprisoned; and as he has done it himself, and has doubtless his own motives for it, he would only deceive me if I trusted him fully with the facts. So far as I can see, my only plan will be to keep my knowledge and my fears to myself, and my eyes open. I am, I know, either being deceived, like a baby, by my own fears, or else I am in desperate straits; and if the latter be so, I need, and shall need, all my brains to get through.

I had hardly come to this conclusion when I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned. He did not come at once into the library, so I went cautiously to my own room and found him making the bed. This was odd, but only confirmed what I had all along thought—that there were no servants in the house. When later I saw him through the chink of the hinges of the door laying the table in the dining-room, I was assured of it; for if he does himself all these menial offices, surely it is proof that there is no one else to do them. This gave me a fright, for if there is no one else in the castle, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought me here. This is a terrible thought; for if so, what does it mean that he could control the wolves, as he did, by only holding up his hand in silence. How was it that all the people at Bistritz and on the coach had some terrible fear for me? What meant the giving of the crucifix, of the garlic, of the wild rose, of the mountain ash? Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it. In the meantime I must find out all I can about Count Dracula, as it may help me to understand. To-night he may talk of himself, if I turn the conversation that way. I must be very careful, however, not to awake his suspicion.

 

Midnight.—I have had a long talk with the Count. I asked him a few questions on Transylvania history, and he warmed up to the subject wonderfully. In his speaking of things and people, and especially of battles, he spoke as if he had been present at them all. This he afterwards explained by saying that to a boyar the pride of his house and name is his own pride, that their glory is his glory, that their fate is his fate. Whenever he spoke of his house he always said “we,” and spoke almost in the plural, like a king speaking. I wish I could put down all he said exactly as he said it, for to me it was most fascinating. It seemed to have in it a whole history of the country. He grew excited as he spoke, and walked about the room pulling his great white moustache and grasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strength. One thing he said which I shall put down as nearly as I can; for it tells in its way the story of his race:—

“We Szekelys have a right to be proud, for in our veins flows the blood of many brave races who fought as the lion fights, for lordship. Here, in the whirlpool of European races, the Ugric tribe bore down from Iceland the fighting spirit which Thor and Wodin gave them, which their Berserkers displayed to such fell intent on the seaboards of Europe, ay, and of Asia and Africa too, till the peoples thought that the were-wolves themselves had come. Here, too, when they came, they found the Huns, whose warlike fury had swept the earth like a living flame, till the dying peoples held that in their veins ran the blood of those old witches, who, expelled from Scythia had mated with the devils in the desert. Fools, fools! What devil or what witch was ever so great as Attila, whose blood is in these veins?” He held up his arms. “Is it a wonder that we were a conquering race; that we were proud; that when the Magyar, the Lombard, the Avar, the Bulgar, or the Turk poured his thousands on our frontiers, we drove them back? Is it strange that when Arpad and his legions swept through the Hungarian fatherland he found us here when he reached the frontier; that the Honfoglalas was completed there? And when the Hungarian flood swept eastward, the Szekelys were claimed as kindred by the victorious Magyars, and to us for centuries was trusted the guarding of the frontier of Turkey-land; ay, and more than that, endless duty of the frontier guard, for, as the Turks say, ‘water sleeps, and enemy is sleepless.’ Who more gladly than we throughout the Four Nations received the ‘bloody sword,’ or at its warlike call flocked quicker to the standard of the King? When was redeemed that great shame of my nation, the shame of Cassova, when the flags of the Wallach and the Magyar went down beneath the Crescent? Who was it but one of my own race who as Voivode crossed the Danube and beat the Turk on his own ground? This was a Dracula indeed! Woe was it that his own unworthy brother, when he had fallen, sold his people to the Turk and brought the shame of slavery on them! Was it not this Dracula, indeed, who inspired that other of his race who in a later age again and again brought his forces over the great river into Turkey-land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph! They said that he thought only of himself. Bah! what good are peasants without a leader? Where ends the war without a brain and heart to conduct it? Again, when, after the battle of Mohács, we threw off the Hungarian yoke, we of the Dracula blood were amongst their leaders, for our spirit would not brook that we were not free. Ah, young sir, the Szekelys—and the Dracula as their heart’s blood, their brains, and their swords—can boast a record that mushroom growths like the Hapsburgs and the Romanoffs can never reach. The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.”

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the “Arabian Nights,” for everything has to break off at cockcrow—or like the ghost of Hamlet’s father.)

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Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

There is a lot going on here. 

We get our first indication that Dracula is a vampire with the mirror (more on this) but also he can move about during the daylight hours. Something he does later on in the story, though we do read he is weakened. 

The mirror and the crucifix. Religious items as a weakness are well documented, and I barely need to cover these with my readers. The mirror should be noted. Originally vampires could not see their reflection because mirrors are backed with silver and considered to be a "pure" metal. Much the same reason why silver harms them. The silver of the mirror rejects the vampire reflection. Other myths make the claim that they have no soul and can't be reflected. This is fine for a Victorian Penny Dreadful, but in modern times and games it doesn't work. So how to I square this circle? I say that the vampire's true form is so horrible that none, even the vampire themselves, can bare to look at it. What you see in a psychic projection from the vampire. The vampire of course sees themselves in their true form in reflected surfaces. Humans can't see them in reflected surfaces, pictures or video recordings because our minds reject the image. It is too horrible for us to see.

"He must be a very peculiar man!" oh, Harker, you have no idea!

In the last section, Dracula talks about the wars and blood-soaked lands (and history) of his people. There are direct connections here to the historical Dracula again. Often, the Count doesn't even try to hide that he and the historical Dracula are the same, though if you are Harker, you could see this as a poet's licence of a proud but declining family. 

Harker likens his tale to that of "Arabian Nights," which has overtones of sexuality, even deviant sexuality as defined by the Victorian Era. This is not the last time Dracula will be seen as a sexual predator, and no one is safe from his gaze. This was a conscious effort on the part of Stoker. He wants the reader to feel uncomfortable in Dracula's presence. 

 Spoken by J. Robert Oppenheimer, quoting from the Bhagavad Gita, it could very easily have been said by Vecna in the latest offering for D&D 5th Edition.

I know I have been down on Wizards of the Coast for the last year and half after they pull some moronically stupid shit with the OGL and Pinkertons, but also for completely dropping the ball on both Baldur's Gate III tie ins and celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons. Well, this adventure at least goes a little bit into the right direction.

Vecna: Eve of Ruin

Basically, the plot is this. Kas is going to destroy the D&D Multiverse and rebuild it in his own image. You have to stop it.

This is part Marvel's Infinity Saga and part DC's Crisis on Infinite Earths, so it already has my attention. Then in what can only be described as Wizard's trying to win me back, your characters are "hired" by Alustriel Silverhand and Tasha the Witch. Then there is a romp through the D&D Multiverse to reassemble the Rod of Seven Parts. I don't care that I did that once before I also like to rewatch the Doctor Who serial "The Key to Time."

So Vecna is the Big Bad. Yeah, I also fought him in the past, but I still don't care, glad he is back. Plus, I can work all the shit he did on Taldorei before this. 

In addition, we have Kas, Tiamat, Count Strahd Zarovich (punching way above his weight class here), Lolth, Lord Soth, Acerak, Mordenkainen, Miska the Wolf Spider, and even a FREAKING ASTRAL DREADNOUGHT.

There are a ton of twists and turns here and I have no idea how it runs, but I love what I am reading. 

This is not the first time D&D has given us big Universe shaking events between editions. The Forgotten Realms had their Time of Troubles, the Spellplague, and the Second Sundering. This one takes it up several notices.

I am a little disappointed that Mystara doesn't show up here, but that is fine I can deal with that.

The adventure is for levels 10-20, so it is meant to be big and deadly.

If I were to run this, I think I would let players pick their favorite characters from any game they have played in the past. It wouldn't matter if they were from the same timelines; in fact, that is a plus. 

And this seems appropriate; play us out, Barry!

No. Not that one. We need to remember the first battle with Vecna and the loss of a great bard.

 Jonathan spends time with Count Dracula who seems eager to learn the Englishman's ways. Harker also learns that Transylvania is not England and their ways are different here and some parts of the castle are off-limits.

7 May.—It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, on which was written:—

“I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.—D.” I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal—I do not know whether to call it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o’clock when I had it—I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count’s permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked.

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind—history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law—all relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the “Red” and “Blue” books, Whitaker’s Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and—it somehow gladdened my heart to see it—the Law List.

Whilst I was looking at the books, the door opened, and the Count entered. He saluted me in a hearty way, and hoped that I had had a good night’s rest. Then he went on:—

“I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you. These companions”—and he laid his hand on some of the books—“have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak.”

“But, Count,” I said, “you know and speak English thoroughly!” He bowed gravely.

“I thank you, my friend, for your all too-flattering estimate, but yet I fear that I am but a little way on the road I would travel. True, I know the grammar and the words, but yet I know not how to speak them.”

“Indeed,” I said, “you speak excellently.”

“Not so,” he answered. “Well, I know that, did I move and speak in your London, none there are who would not know me for a stranger. That is not enough for me. Here I am noble; I am boyar; the common people know me, and I am master. But a stranger in a strange land, he is no one; men know him not—and to know not is to care not for. I am content if I am like the rest, so that no man stops if he see me, or pause in his speaking if he hear my words, ‘Ha, ha! a stranger!’ I have been so long master that I would be master still—or at least that none other should be master of me. You come to me not alone as agent of my friend Peter Hawkins, of Exeter, to tell me all about my new estate in London. You shall, I trust, rest here with me awhile, so that by our talking I may learn the English intonation; and I would that you tell me when I make error, even of the smallest, in my speaking. I am sorry that I had to be away so long to-day; but you will, I know, forgive one who has so many important affairs in hand.”

Of course I said all I could about being willing, and asked if I might come into that room when I chose. He answered: “Yes, certainly,” and added:—

“You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. There is reason that all things are as they are, and did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand.” I said I was sure of this, and then he went on:—

“We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things. Nay, from what you have told me of your experiences already, you know something of what strange things there may be.”

This led to much conversation; and as it was evident that he wanted to talk, if only for talking’s sake, I asked him many questions regarding things that had already happened to me or come within my notice. Sometimes he sheered off the subject, or turned the conversation by pretending not to understand; but generally he answered all I asked most frankly. Then as time went on, and I had got somewhat bolder, I asked him of some of the strange things of the preceding night, as, for instance, why the coachman went to the places where he had seen the blue flames. He then explained to me that it was commonly believed that on a certain night of the year—last night, in fact, when all evil spirits are supposed to have unchecked sway—a blue flame is seen over any place where treasure has been concealed. “That treasure has been hidden,” he went on, “in the region through which you came last night, there can be but little doubt; for it was the ground fought over for centuries by the Wallachian, the Saxon, and the Turk. Why, there is hardly a foot of soil in all this region that has not been enriched by the blood of men, patriots or invaders. In old days there were stirring times, when the Austrian and the Hungarian came up in hordes, and the patriots went out to meet them—men and women, the aged and the children too—and waited their coming on the rocks above the passes, that they might sweep destruction on them with their artificial avalanches. When the invader was triumphant he found but little, for whatever there was had been sheltered in the friendly soil.”

“But how,” said I, “can it have remained so long undiscovered, when there is a sure index to it if men will but take the trouble to look?” The Count smiled, and as his lips ran back over his gums, the long, sharp, canine teeth showed out strangely; he answered:—

“Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?”

“There you are right,” I said. “I know no more than the dead where even to look for them.” Then we drifted into other matters.

“Come,” he said at last, “tell me of London and of the house which you have procured for me.” With an apology for my remissness, I went into my own room to get the papers from my bag. Whilst I was placing them in order I heard a rattling of china and silver in the next room, and as I passed through, noticed that the table had been cleared and the lamp lit, for it was by this time deep into the dark. The lamps were also lit in the study or library, and I found the Count lying on the sofa, reading, of all things in the world, an English Bradshaw’s Guide. When I came in he cleared the books and papers from the table; and with him I went into plans and deeds and figures of all sorts. He was interested in everything, and asked me a myriad questions about the place and its surroundings. He clearly had studied beforehand all he could get on the subject of the neighbourhood, for he evidently at the end knew very much more than I did. When I remarked this, he answered:—

“Well, but, my friend, is it not needful that I should? When I go there I shall be all alone, and my friend Harker Jonathan—nay, pardon me, I fall into my country’s habit of putting your patronymic first—my friend Jonathan Harker will not be by my side to correct and aid me. He will be in Exeter, miles away, probably working at papers of the law with my other friend, Peter Hawkins. So!”

We went thoroughly into the business of the purchase of the estate at Purfleet. When I had told him the facts and got his signature to the necessary papers, and had written a letter with them ready to post to Mr. Hawkins, he began to ask me how I had come across so suitable a place. I read to him the notes which I had made at the time, and which I inscribe here:—

“At Purfleet, on a by-road, I came across just such a place as seemed to be required, and where was displayed a dilapidated notice that the place was for sale. It is surrounded by a high wall, of ancient structure, built of heavy stones, and has not been repaired for a large number of years. The closed gates are of heavy old oak and iron, all eaten with rust.

“The estate is called Carfax, no doubt a corruption of the old Quatre Face, as the house is four-sided, agreeing with the cardinal points of the compass. It contains in all some twenty acres, quite surrounded by the solid stone wall above mentioned. There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream. The house is very large and of all periods back, I should say, to mediæval times, for one part is of stone immensely thick, with only a few windows high up and heavily barred with iron. It looks like part of a keep, and is close to an old chapel or church. I could not enter it, as I had not the key of the door leading to it from the house, but I have taken with my kodak views of it from various points. The house has been added to, but in a very straggling way, and I can only guess at the amount of ground it covers, which must be very great. There are but few houses close at hand, one being a very large house only recently added to and formed into a private lunatic asylum. It is not, however, visible from the grounds.”

When I had finished, he said:—

“I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.” Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his smile look malignant and saturnine.

Presently, with an excuse, he left me, asking me to put all my papers together. He was some little time away, and I began to look at some of the books around me. One was an atlas, which I found opened naturally at England, as if that map had been much used. On looking at it I found in certain places little rings marked, and on examining these I noticed that one was near London on the east side, manifestly where his new estate was situated; the other two were Exeter, and Whitby on the Yorkshire coast.

It was the better part of an hour when the Count returned. “Aha!” he said; “still at your books? Good! But you must not work always. Come; I am informed that your supper is ready.” He took my arm, and we went into the next room, where I found an excellent supper ready on the table. The Count again excused himself, as he had dined out on his being away from home. But he sat as on the previous night, and chatted whilst I ate. After supper I smoked, as on the last evening, and the Count stayed with me, chatting and asking questions on every conceivable subject, hour after hour. I felt that it was getting very late indeed, but I did not say anything, for I felt under obligation to meet my host’s wishes in every way. I was not sleepy, as the long sleep yesterday had fortified me; but I could not help experiencing that chill which comes over one at the coming of the dawn, which is like, in its way, the turn of the tide. They say that people who are near death die generally at the change to the dawn or at the turn of the tide; any one who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it. All at once we heard the crow of a cock coming up with preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air; Count Dracula, jumping to his feet, said:—

“Why, there is the morning again! How remiss I am to let you stay up so long. You must make your conversation regarding my dear new country of England less interesting, so that I may not forget how time flies by us,” and, with a courtly bow, he quickly left me.

I went into my own room and drew the curtains, but there was little to notice; my window opened into the courtyard, all I could see was the warm grey of quickening sky. So I pulled the curtains again, and have written of this day. 

--

Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

We are getting our first notions that something is not right in Castle Dracula, even if Harker is clueless right now.  

This is also the first time that Dracula in the novel is equated to the real-life Vlad Dracula.

Thirteen Parsecs

http://tinyurl.com/13psignuptim

We want this game to be your sci-fi RPG of choice, so help us make that happen.

This uses the same O.G.R.E.S. as NIGHT SHIFT and Wasted Lands. 

Much like NIGHT SHIFT, there are core rules for playing in all sorts of Sci-Fi genres; Space Opera, Action, Comedy, Horror (of course!), and more.

There will be "Solar Frontiers," mini-settings you can use to start your game (much like the Night Worlds for NIGHT SHIFT). My Solar Frontiers will be "Space Truckers" and the currently titled "Dark Stars," my "aliens and horror in space" setting.

Jason will provide the bulk of the core rules and his two Solar Frontiers, and our long-time collaborator (and demo game GM extraordinaire) Derek Stoelting will also add his Solar Frontiers. We are all working on adding rules and expanding what worked best in NIGHT SHIFT and Wasted Lands. We have over 75 years of game design experience for a couple dozen different companies/publishers.

Speaking of our other games, Thirteen Parsecs is 100% compatible with NIGHT SHIFT and Wasted Lands.  Do you want to play deeper, dark sci-fi horror? NIGHT SHIFT + 13P has you covered. Want to pilot your Time Ship back to after the KT extinction and find a world populated by the proto-human experiments of the Great Old Ones? Wasted Lands + 13P! Or combine all three.

I am planning an epoch-sweeping adventure that takes you from Wasted Lands to NIGHT SHIFT to Thirteen Parsecs, in the vein of one of my favorite books and movies, 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's not exactly the same, of course (I do not liken myself to a Clark or a Kubrick), but it's an echo of a time when I read both 2001 and Lord of the Rings one summer.

Help us make this a reality! We are going strong out of the gate but let's hit those stretch goals.

We are exactly the type of publisher these crowdfunding sites are really for: small professionals with grand ideas and the desire and skills to get it done; we just lack the capital for some art and printing costs upfront.

All of our and Jason's crowdfunding has met our goals, and more importantly, we have delivered on time. We are even offering some nice perks for early backers.

So please check us out!

http://tinyurl.com/13psignuptim

alternate link: https://www.backerkit.com/c/projects/elf-lair-games/thirteen-parsecs-adventures-beyond-the-solar-frontier

 

 Before I start May in earnest, let me wrap up April with the A to Z Blog Challenge Reflections.

Normally, I write these posts just as I am getting done, but this year, I am writing them after the A to Z Blogging team put up their questions. So, I'll answer a few.

Did I "win?"

Winning here is much like "winning" in Dungeons & Dragons. It is about the fun you have along the way. That being said, I did post every day for every letter and then some extras on Sunday. Blogging every day has never been a challenge for me. My challenge was making sure I posted, had a great theme, and interacted with my fellow bloggers.

Did I see increased traffic?

Normally no, I don't on these A to Z challenges. I know I get different traffic though. This year though I did see more traffic and more interaction so that is great.

Do you feel the A to Z Team (Arlee Bird, J Lenni Dorner, Zalka Csenge Virág, John Holton, Jayden R Vincente, and Ronel) supported you, your blog, and this challenge enough in 2024?

I felt they do a fine job. At this point I personally don't need the extra support they provide, having done it for so long myself. But I am happy they are there. 

Did you use the http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/p/2024-graphics.html Graphics page? Is the HTML useful to you?

I didn't use it except for today. An yes, the HTML is nice to have. Maybe I will use it next year.

Have you followed the social media of the A to Z Challenge?

I used to follow it and many of the participants on Twitter, but my Twitter usage is way down this year. I followed pretty regularly on Facebook, though.  A suggestion would be to have similar hubs on Bluesky and Mastodon. 

Do you have a favorite blog that you found during the challenge this year?

I rather loved going to Codex Anathema this year. While my theme was Dungeons & Dragons in general, their's was a specific D&D setting, one I know very little about. Also their blog is in Spanish, so that let me practice my Spanish everyday!

Do you feel you had a positive impact on the Blogging Community during the hop?

I like to think so given some of the comments I had!

Have you learned anything because of the #AtoZChallenge?

I knew what I was going to do this year for a couple of years and I had posts written ahead of time, but as it turns out the world around me changed (as it always does) and many posts had to be edits, some even rewritten and at least three scrapped and new posts made. Flexibility is the key I think.

Did you use a theme in 2024? Any thoughts on themes?

Yes. I did the history of Dungeons & Dragons from my own perspective. I love themes, it is why I do d this. 

Consider the significance of the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge, our values (community and inclusion), and your feelings about the experience. How may this influence your future blogging, learning, or actions?

I always have plans to go back to many of the blogs I visited, and I have even tagged them as such in my Google Sheets. But I don't always do it and by June/July I have tapered off. I want to try harder to keep it up this year.

Will you consider doing the challenge again next year?

Yes, but I will need to find a good theme.  I need something that will engage my regular audience and something that will bring folks from the challenge. Next year is 2025, but nothing comes to mind as easily as 50 years of D&D (2024) or 60 years of Doctor who (2023). Star Trek hits 60 in 2026. So I have that to consider. Whatever I do for 2025 I still want to write many of the posts ahead of time.

Any other thoughts, feelings, and reactions to the #AtoZChallenge 2024?

We are nowhere near the halcyon days when thousands participated, which is good in some ways since that was a nightmare to manage. 

Other thoughts.

I wanted to comment on every blog, but a few signed up and never posted. Others signed up, but I could not find their blog link in the chaos of their pages. Others still had themes that, honestly, I couldn't relate to. I mean, I know some likely feel the same about my blog.

I get people signing up and not being able to commit, it is a "Challenge" after all, but there were a few that signed up and I don't think they had any intention of posting.

Maybe it is the Lawful Neutral in me, but if you are going to do an A to Z challenge, please at least follow the rules and post the letter on the day of. I know I am nitpicking. 

Road Trip 2024

I am also signing up for the 2024 Road Trip. I am going to try and hit some more blogs outside of the A to Z challenge to see what they normally post.

My Favorite Post of the Challenge

I think it would have to be my post on the Satanic Panic. One of my regular readers mentioned I had never posted about my own personal experiences about it before, and he was right. I thought for sure I had, I had mentioned the story many times. Just not here I guess.  

So that is my April 2024 A to Z round-up! Like I said, I think 2026 is great for Star Trek. No idea what a good theme for 2025 will be. It will be the 50th Anniversary of events from 1975. So maybe there is something there. 

By Richard McKenna / May 6, 2024

Of all the visionary artists to emerge from the illustration boom of the ’60s and ’70s, Bob Fowke must be one of the most unfairly neglected.

I first became aware of his idiosyncratic visions through his covers for Sci-Fi 1, 2 and 3, anthologies of specially commissioned science fiction stories for young children published by  Armada books in the mid-’70s. To an extremely literal-minded (though people who knew youthful me might say simple-minded) child like myself, obsessed with very literal-minded depictions of spaceships and alien worlds, Fowke’s pictures hit me like a bucketful of acid dumped into the South Yorkshire water supply. Beguilingly tactile and alluring with their bright colors and odd forms and technologies, they were at the same time worryingly surreal, seemingly  communicating things that they weren’t overtly saying.

Even among the plethora of gifted artists working in the field at the time—particularly the stable of his peers at art agency Young Artists, which included Les Edwards, John Harris, Colin Hay and Peter Elson—Fowke’s vision stood out, at once playful and disconcertingly strange. Once aware of him, I started noticing his work all over the place: on Angela Carter books, on the cover of Nicholas Fisk’s great juvenile SF gem Flamers in the library, and in 1980’s faux galactic travelogue coffee-table book Tour of the Universe.

So sincere thanks to Bob for agreeing to be interviewed, and to his wife Pinney for being the trigger for it happening. Please visit www.bobfowke.co.uk to learn more about him and see more of his work. All of the images used in this article are © Bob Fowke, with all rights reserved by Mr. Fowke.

* * *

MCKENNA: Bob, could you please tell us something about how you originally became interested in art and about your training?

FOWKE: I’ve always been interested in art—I’m hardly alone in that—but perhaps no more than in literature and some other subjects. After school, I completed a foundation art course at Eastbourne College of Art, but I was more determined to learn the craft of painting than I was ambitious to be an “artist,” whatever that meant at that time. I would have preferred an apprentice system such as artists received in the Renaissance period. With this in mind, I went to Taunton College where I was able to study the craft of illustration under John Raynes, a well-known commercial artist of the 1950s/60s. His style is completely different to mine, but his discipline and the opportunity to watch a very competent professional artist at work were invaluable.

MCKENNA: How did you first find yourself involved in book jacket illustration?

FOWKE: Given that my work is, I hope, imaginative, book jackets, which are advertisements for products of the imagination, were by their nature where I would be at home and where I could get commissions. I painted some record sleeves and adverts, but book jackets were my bread and butter.

MCKENNA: Did you have any interest in the science fiction and fantasy genres before you began working in the field?

FOWKE: Perhaps sci-fi attracts young men because it tends to privilege concepts and plot over emotion, even if the best sci-fi writers often encompass emotion as well. So, I read science fiction/fantasy as an adolescent but as part of wider reading.

MCKENNA: How did you become involved with Young Artists and what were your experiences working with them?

FOWKE: On leaving Taunton, I sent some sample paintings to Young Artists, a remarkable illustrators’ agency of that period, and they were accepted immediately; I was fortunate that there was no period when I was searching for work. The images I sent were completely off the wall but John Spencer, who started the agency, saw something in them despite them being a bit mad. It was very good luck, and very kind of him to see something in my work.

Young Artists were wonderful. We illustrators were scattered all round the country because we could work anywhere, and there was a wonderful party once a year, held in their warehouse offices in Camden town, when we all descended from our scattered studios in the provinces and elsewhere. They were a great agency to work with and, as it turns out, quite historically significant.

MCKENNA: What are your memories of working in that period? Which of the projects you worked on were most memorable and why?

FOWKE: I moved to Shrewsbury with my young family and worked hard, putting my finished artwork on “red star,” a same-day delivery service by train to London. In my case there was a sort-of tri-weekly turnover of work I should say. There were no personal computers, no fax even.

There were so many projects, I can’t say which was most memorable. Perhaps it was painting the little dinosaur cards that went in Kellogg’s cereal packets, although not for artistic reasons. The artwork was very small and I worked so many hours each day that my eyes grew weak until, by the end, it took five 100-watt bulbs directed at the artboard for me to be able to see what I was painting. The eyes recovered, fortunately.

MCKENNA: Which artists—or films, authors, musicians, etc.—have exerted the biggest influence on you over the course of your career, and are they the same ones you find compelling now?

FOWKE: My tastes are boringly similar to a lot of people’s. To name but a few: Mozart and Beethoven, Samuel Palmer, Bosch, Constable. There’s a reason why these people are so famous.

MCKENNA: At least to me, your artwork seems to inhabit a space where Renaissance and surrealist visual sensibilities bleed into one another to create something that evokes both, but which feels very much like its own thing. Am I way off the mark?

FOWKE: You’re spot on. When I started painting book jackets I was especially influenced by Lucas Cranach and Albrecht Durer and some of the Italians, as well as by Magritte and the surrealists—-but I attempted to use their visual language to create a subjective reality of my own.

MCKENNA: You did your foundation at Eastbourne School of Art. Do you think that growing up on the South Coast of England informed your art?

FOWKE: I was brought up in Brighton and attended Marlborough College, then Brighton and Hove Grammar School, as it then was. Like most artists, I’m always influenced by the landscape around me, and in those days it was the South Downs, but I doubt the influence goes beyond that.

MCKENNA: How do you typically approach the composition of a piece?

FOWKE: Pencil, paper and free-association first, then work into it.

MCKENNA: I have the impression that your work has perhaps been a bit neglected because it’s somewhat less literal in its visions than some of your contemporaries. Would you say that’s a fair judgement?

FOWKE: I think you’re right. I wanted to paint my own subjective visions and those are things that are hard to pin down—-and who’s to say if they’re always what other people want—-if they don’t fit neatly into a particular genre.

MCKENNA: When and why did you begin to move out of illustration and into publishing?

FOWKE: It’s a very solitary occupation and at a certain point I needed others around me. Then, of course, I took up writing and that’s also solitary. A fool is a fool is a fool!

MCKENNA: What are you up to nowadays? And are you still painting?

FOWKE: I live in South Shropshire and I’m still painting and writing as well as helping others publish their books through YouCaxton Publications. There’s a lot to do.

MCKENNA: Is there a project that you’d like to paint but have never yet managed to get around to?

FOWKE: Several projects.

MCKENNA: Is there one painting of yours that you think represents particularly well what you wanted to accomplish with your art?

FOWKE: If I were to select a “Desert-Island” painting, I would choose one of the three I painted in India in 1980 for Alien Landscapes. I had a lot of time for each one and the level of detail in those paintings, if I say so myself, is exceptional; you need a magnifying glass to really appreciate them. I was illustrating Brian Aldiss’s story Hothouse, which involves a tree that covers the world, and for the first painting I took a room at the Theosophical Society in Chennai, which has one of the world’s largest banyan trees in its grounds. I ended up painting a small square of ground at its feet and no tree in the painting—a long way to go for a small square of ground but such are the workings of the subconscious.

MCKENNA: And finally: if you could pick any painting by any artist to hang in your otherworldly residence, what would it be and why?

FOWKE: Right now I would go for a Fragonard, The Swing obviously, or a Boucher, or even a ceiling by Tiepolo. In fact the ceiling would be the best value because I would get more of it. I love the exuberance and optimism of the Rococo style. But I might change my mind tomorrow.

One of Bob’s more recent pieces, Why I Like Angels

Richard McKenna grew up in the visionary utopia of 1970s South Yorkshire and now ekes out a living among the crumbling ruins of Rome, from whence he dreams of being one day rescued by the Terran Trade Authority.

 Jonathan comes within sight of Castle Dracula. The locals show more and more fear. A strange driver takes him to Castle Dracula where he meets the Count himself.

5 May. The Castle.—The grey of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed. I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes. There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly. I dined on what they called “robber steak”—bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire, in the simple style of the London cat’s meat! The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable. I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.

When I got on the coach the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking with the landlady. They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door—which they call by a name meaning “word-bearer”—came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were “Ordog”—Satan, “pokol”—hell, “stregoica”—witch, “vrolok” and “vlkoslak”—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions)

When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me. With some difficulty I got a fellow-passenger to tell me what they meant; he would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye. This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man; but every one seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched. I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn-yard and its crowd of picturesque figures, all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard. Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the box-seat—“gotza” they call them—cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.

I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow-passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom—apple, plum, pear, cherry; and as we drove by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the “Mittel Land” ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point.

Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain, which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us:—

“Look! Isten szek!”—“God’s seat!”—and he crossed himself reverently.

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasised by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me: for instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves. Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon—the ordinary peasant’s cart—with its long, snake-like vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of home-coming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured, sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver’s haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not hear of it. “No, no,” he said; “you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce”; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—“and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep.” The only stop he would make was a moment’s pause to light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater; the crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us; we were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial; these were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz—the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some little time; and at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness; but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone; I thought it was “An hour less than the time.” Then turning to me, he said in German worse than my own:—

“There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or the next day; better the next day.” Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a calèche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps, as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us. He said to the driver:—

“You are early to-night, my friend.” The man stammered in reply:—

“The English Herr was in a hurry,” to which the stranger replied:—

“That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift.” As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger’s “Lenore”:—

“Denn die Todten reiten schnell”—
(“For the dead travel fast.”)

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. “Give me the Herr’s luggage,” said the driver; and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the calèche. Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the calèche was close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel; his strength must have been prodigious. Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the Pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps, and projected against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent German:—

“The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require it.” I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going over and over the same ground again; and so I took note of some salient point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention to delay. By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch; it was within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling—that of wolves—which affected both the horses and myself in the same way—for I was minded to jump from the calèche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.

Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed; he kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness.

Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer; but while I wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch the driver’s motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose—it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all—and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.

At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.

All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see; but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side; and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach. I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness.

When I could see again the driver was climbing into the calèche, and the wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.

CHAPTER II

JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL—continued

5 May.—I must have been asleep, for certainly if I had been fully awake I must have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. In the gloom the courtyard looked of considerable size, and as several dark ways led from it under great round arches, it perhaps seemed bigger than it really is. I have not yet been able to see it by daylight.

When the calèche stopped, the driver jumped down and held out his hand to assist me to alight. Again I could not but notice his prodigious strength. His hand actually seemed like a steel vice that could have crushed mine if he had chosen. Then he took out my traps, and placed them on the ground beside me as I stood close to a great door, old and studded with large iron nails, and set in a projecting doorway of massive stone. I could see even in the dim light that the stone was massively carved, but that the carving had been much worn by time and weather. As I stood, the driver jumped again into his seat and shook the reins; the horses started forward, and trap and all disappeared down one of the dark openings.

I stood in silence where I was, for I did not know what to do. Of bell or knocker there was no sign; through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate. The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked? Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor’s clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor’s clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Just as I had come to this conclusion I heard a heavy step approaching behind the great door, and saw through the chinks the gleam of a coming light. Then there was the sound of rattling chains and the clanking of massive bolts drawn back. A key was turned with the loud grating noise of long disuse, and the great door swung back.

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation:—

“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!” He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said:—

“Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!” The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking; so to make sure, I said interrogatively:—

“Count Dracula?” He bowed in a courtly way as he replied:—

“I am Dracula; and I bid you welcome, Mr. Harker, to my house. Come in; the night air is chill, and you must need to eat and rest.” As he was speaking, he put the lamp on a bracket on the wall, and stepping out, took my luggage; he had carried it in before I could forestall him. I protested but he insisted:—

“Nay, sir, you are my guest. It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself.” He insisted on carrying my traps along the passage, and then up a great winding stair, and along another great passage, on whose stone floor our steps rang heavily. At the end of this he threw open a heavy door, and I rejoiced to see within a well-lit room in which a table was spread for supper, and on whose mighty hearth a great fire of logs, freshly replenished, flamed and flared.

The Count halted, putting down my bags, closed the door, and crossing the room, opened another door, which led into a small octagonal room lit by a single lamp, and seemingly without a window of any sort. Passing through this, he opened another door, and motioned me to enter. It was a welcome sight; for here was a great bedroom well lighted and warmed with another log fire,—also added to but lately, for the top logs were fresh—which sent a hollow roar up the wide chimney. The Count himself left my luggage inside and withdrew, saying, before he closed the door:—

“You will need, after your journey, to refresh yourself by making your toilet. I trust you will find all you wish. When you are ready, come into the other room, where you will find your supper prepared.”

The light and warmth and the Count’s courteous welcome seemed to have dissipated all my doubts and fears. Having then reached my normal state, I discovered that I was half famished with hunger; so making a hasty toilet, I went into the other room.

I found supper already laid out. My host, who stood on one side of the great fireplace, leaning against the stonework, made a graceful wave of his hand to the table, and said:—

“I pray you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not sup.”

I handed to him the sealed letter which Mr. Hawkins had entrusted to me. He opened it and read it gravely; then, with a charming smile, he handed it to me to read. One passage of it, at least, gave me a thrill of pleasure.

“I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters.”

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper. During the time I was eating it the Count asked me many questions as to my journey, and I told him by degrees all I had experienced.

By this time I had finished my supper, and by my host’s desire had drawn up a chair by the fire and begun to smoke a cigar which he offered me, at the same time excusing himself that he did not smoke. I had now an opportunity of observing him, and found him of a very marked physiognomy.

His face was a strong—a very strong—aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal. The Count, evidently noticing it, drew back; and with a grim sort of smile, which showed more than he had yet done his protuberant teeth, sat himself down again on his own side of the fireplace. We were both silent for a while; and as I looked towards the window I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said:—

“Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!” Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

“Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.” Then he rose and said:—

“But you must be tired. Your bedroom is all ready, and to-morrow you shall sleep as late as you will. I have to be away till the afternoon; so sleep well and dream well!” With a courteous bow, he opened for me himself the door to the octagonal room, and I entered my bedroom....

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

 

--

Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

The “vrolok” and “vlkoslak” are etymologically related to both the Vrykolakas and Wurdalak. I have discussed the Ördög and Stregoica/Stregoi before. 

There is some minor debate about the "Strange Driver's" nature. Movies portray him as Dracula in disguise, which makes the most sense. It also tracks the best given his nature. But one could argue he is one of Dracula's lackeys. A vampire spawn or ghoul, to use modern terms. 

This sequence covers the transition from the New World to the Old World. Harker begins with trains and research trips in London and ends up with coach rides and superstitions. 

Part of those superstitions are the blue flames. This is an old superstition that claims that on certain nights, these flames will show where hidden gold is buried. The flames are the souls of those who stole and then buried the gold.  However, why Dracula would want this gold is the question.  This makes more sense if the driver is a lackey and not the Count himself.

 Jonathan continues on his journey and a note from Dracula causes a stir.

4 May.—I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting.

Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a very hysterical way:

“Must you go? Oh! young Herr, must you go?” She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:

“Do you know what day it is?” I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:

“Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?” On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:

“It is the eve of St. George’s Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?” She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting. It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I therefore tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go. She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me. I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind. She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck, and said, “For your mother’s sake,” and went out of the room. I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck. Whether it is the old lady’s fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual. If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes the coach!

--

Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

I had marked St. George's Day already on April 23. That is for the Gregorian calendar. On the Julian calendar, the day is May 6th. Since this taking place where the Eastern Orthodox church holds sway, the feast days are all on the Julian calendar.

On the tail of Old School Renaissance has come another movement—the rise of the fanzine. Although the fanzine—a nonprofessional and nonofficial publication produced by fans of a particular cultural phenomenon, got its start in Science Fiction fandom, in the gaming hobby it first started with Chess and Diplomacy fanzines before finding fertile ground in the roleplaying hobby in the 1970s. Here these amateurish publications allowed the hobby a public space for two things. First, they were somewhere that the hobby could voice opinions and ideas that lay outside those of a game’s publisher. Second, in the Golden Age of roleplaying when the Dungeon Masters were expected to create their own settings and adventures, they also provided a rough and ready source of support for the game of your choice. Many also served as vehicles for the fanzine editor’s house campaign and thus they showcased how another DM and group played said game. This would often change over time if a fanzine accepted submissions. Initially, fanzines were primarily dedicated to the big three RPGs of the 1970s—Dungeons & Dragons, RuneQuest, and Traveller—but fanzines have appeared dedicated to other RPGs since, some of which helped keep a game popular in the face of no official support.

Since 2008 with the publication of Fight On #1, the Old School Renaissance has had its own fanzines. The advantage of the Old School Renaissance is that the various Retroclones draw from the same source and thus one Dungeons & Dragons-style RPG is compatible with another. This means that the contents of one fanzine will be compatible with the Retroclone that you already run and play even if not specifically written for it. Labyrinth Lord and Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplay have proved to be popular choices to base fanzines around, as has Swords & Wizardry and the Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game from Goodman Games.
Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 2 is another fine looking issue of the fanzine published by Blind Visionary Publications. It continues to provide long-term support rather than immediate support for use with the Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game. This is not say that none of its content is not of use or even useless, for that is very much not the case, but rather that it requires a bit of effort upon the part of Judge to work it into her campaign. In fact, all of content is detailed, interesting, and worth reading. Published in April, 2020, following a successful Kickstarter campaign, where the previous issue, Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1 strayed into the territory of the Mutant Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game – Triumph & Technology Won by Mutants & Magic, this issue very much remains in the territory of Dungeon Crawl Classics.
Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 2 opens with ‘King of Beasts’. This is a new Patron, one who is the noble lion, wily tiger, nimble hare, slithering snake, and fluttering crow—and includes tables for invoking him as a Patron, suffering Taint when that goes wrong, and so on. The new spells include Speak with Animals; Bloodsense, which enables the caster to sense the blood in his quarry and track where they are; and Awaken enables the caster to activate a spirit animal, and so gains two boons and a bane from them. The roll is really for the length of the effect, which can be days or months, and then the Player Character gains the effect of a selected spirit animal. For example, the Toad spirit animal grants the ability to breathe underwater for thirty minutes and extra jumping distance, but becomes lazy and will act if there are immediate and obvious benefits.
The Dwarven Jäger is a subclass of dwarf, a warrior that allows the use of ‘Mighty Deeds of Arms’ like the Warrior Class, but prefers to fight with two weapons rather than a weapon and shield. They have a Deed Die that increases as they go up in Level for both attacks and damage, and if strong enough, can fight with a battle axe in each hand! This though, reduces the Class’ Initiative die. With ‘Mighty Defence’, the Dwarven Jäger can increase his Armour Class at a cost of stepping down his attack dice. Stats are also included for the throwing hammer and the hand crossbow. The Class is a serviceable variant, offering a viable alternative, especially for the player who wants a two-weapon wielding Warrior.
‘Rites & Rituals Part II’ continues the expanded use of magic and rituals in Dungeon Crawl Classics, begun in Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1. Rituals are more powerful than normal spells, and their inherent power, unlinked to any god or deity, means that anyone can cast them. What this leads to is the creation of standardised rituals to achieve the same objective, but which are different from one cult or organisation to another. To support this aspect, it provides more than the one variant for several rituals, the variants being for different faiths, in this case, worshippers of Cthulhu and of Osiris. The rituals include Blessings of the Grave is a ritual that protects those buried in graveyards, cemetery, or necropolises, from raised via the animate dead and similar spells; Liturgy of Blessing, which brands the faith of a consenting worshipper with an imprint of their god, which puts them on the path to becoming a member of the clergy; and Rite of Consecration, which creates a sanctuary space for the specific deity. These are very nicely detailed, and of the two choices of deity, the rituals dedicated to Cthulhu rather than Osiris are probably more gameable, but both series of rituals do serve as examples upon which the Judge can base her own.
‘Cullpepper’s Herbal’ continues the regular feature begun in Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1. Here there is a guide to creating decoctions and herbal restoratives, and this is followed by detailed descriptions of agrimony and bastard agrimony. This includes descriptions, flowering times, astrology, shoots, and more. In some ways, there is too much information here, on too few herbs, but for a Player Character with an interest in alchemy or herbalism, the degree of detail is wlcome.

As the name suggests, ‘Shoggoth’ continues the Cthulhu theme. This takes the Mythos monster which first appeared in At the Mountains of Madness and gives a potted history of its appearance in gaming before providing stats for its for use with Dungeon Crawl Classics. The Judge can roll for Shoggoth size, age, and martial abilities, such as poison glands, hypnotic glands, and of course, mimicry. They can also also have esoteric abilities like Assume Form and Bioluminescence, and all together this provides the Judge with the means to really individualise one Shoggoth from another, and so make them unknowable for the Player Characters.
Accompanying this is ‘Find Familiar (Cthulhu)’, which enables the Wizard with Cthulhu with Cthulhu or other Lovecraftian horror entity, such as Mother Hydra, Father Dagon, Nyarlathotep, and so on, as a Patron, to gain an appropriate familiar. Options include Zoog, (Brown) Jenkin, and Cat of Ulthar, but there is an emphasis on gaining a Shoggoth as a familiar. It cannot be fully grown, so is typically young or newborn (budded? decanted?), small or medium. Of these, having a Shoggoth as a familiar is going to be the most fun and again, this and the previous ‘Shoggoth’ article lets the player and the Judge really individualise a Shuggoth, whether a familiar or a threat.
Joel Philips’ ‘Onward Retainer’ continues the comic strip about the retainer in the fantasy roleplaying games begun in the first issue. It is nicely drawn and is a reasonable enough read, though not as funny as it is trying to be.
Penultimately, ‘What is the Smoking Wyrm?’ is the editorial in the second issue of Tales from the Smoking Wyrm. It is a more personal piece than in Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1, recounting how Joel Philip got his start in gaming and how those adventures and characters influenced the creation of the ‘Onward Retainer’, so gives a bit of context. This is more interesting than the comic strip is either entertaining or amusing. Lastly, ‘Wyrm Words’ is a word search puzzle of Gygaxian words which is okay if you like that sort of thing, a waste of space if you do not, and this review leans towards the latter rather the former.
Physically, Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 2 is well written and the fanzine as a whole, has high production values. The artwork is good throughout, and the front cover again echoes the illustration from the Dungeon Master’s Guide for Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, First Edition, by Dave Trampier, which is based on the Street of the Knights on the Greek island of Rhodes. This is an illustration that the fanzine will return to again and again for its front covers.
Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 2 picks up where Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1 left off. It is a second solid issue, especially if the Judge wants to add the Lovecraftian mythos to Dungeon Crawl Classics with the inclusion of Cthulhu—as detailed in Tales from the Smoking Wyrm No. 1—and Shoggoths. None of the content is necessarily ready to be dropped into a campaign, but for the Judge who wants to add the Lovecraftian mythos and more detailed herbalism, there is good amount here to further develop.

On the tail of the Old School Renaissance has come another movement—the rise of the fanzine. Although the fanzine—a nonprofessional and nonofficial publication produced by fans of a particular cultural phenomenon, got its start in Science Fiction fandom, in the gaming hobby it first started with Chess and Diplomacy fanzines before finding fertile ground in the roleplaying hobby in the 1970s. Here these amateurish publications allowed the hobby a public space for two things. First, they were somewhere that the hobby could voice opinions and ideas that lay outside those of a game’s publisher. Second, in the Golden Age of roleplaying when the Dungeon Masters were expected to create their own settings and adventures, they also provided a rough and ready source of support for the game of your choice. Many also served as vehicles for the fanzine editor’s house campaign and thus they showed another DM and group played said game. This would often change over time if a fanzine accepted submissions. Initially, fanzines were primarily dedicated to the big three RPGs of the 1970s—Dungeons & Dragons, RuneQuest, and Traveller—but fanzines have appeared dedicated to other RPGs since, some of which helped keep a game popular in the face of no official support.
Since 2008 with the publication of Fight On #1, the Old School Renaissance has had its own fanzines. The advantage of the Old School Renaissance is that the various Retroclones draw from the same source and thus one Dungeons & Dragons-style RPG is compatible with another. This means that the contents of one fanzine will be compatible with the Retroclone that you already run and play even if not specifically written for it. Labyrinth Lord and Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplay have proved to be popular choices to base fanzines around, as has Swords & Wizardry. A more recent retroclone of choice to support has been Mörk Borg.
Published in November, 2020, Strange Visitors to the City is one of three similar fanzines released by Philip Reed Games as a result of the Strange Citizens of the City Kickstarter campaign, the others being Strange Inhabitants of the Forest and Strange Citizens of the City It follows on from the publisher’s Delayed Blast Gamemaster fanzine, by presenting a set of tables upon which the Game Master can roll and bring in elements to her game. Whilst Delayed Blast Gamemaster detailed monsters, environments, and more, with a cover which reads, “Roll 2d6 and say hello to Evil”, Strange Visitors to the City is all about the encounter and all about encounters with evil coming to the city, the cover reading, “Roll 2d6 and Greet a Visitor”. For Mörk Borg, the city can most obviously be that of Galgenbeck in the land of Tveland, but it need not be, instead any city with a dark seamy underbelly where the strange is accepted and allowed to fester.
Strange Visitors to the City follows the format of Strange Inhabitants of the Forest and Strange Citizens of the City, consisting of four tables—or rather sets of entries—which populate and add detail to a large location, in this case, as with Strange Citizens of the City, a nameless city. In fact, Strange Visitors to the City is really a companion to Strange Citizens of the City, complementing it with another array of ghouls and grotesques, this time visitants and vermin passing in and out of the city gates. The issue opens with the eponymous ‘Strange Visitors to the City’ which presents a table of mostly villains or villain-like NPCs to be encountered in and about the city. Each is given their own two-page spread, with a large illustration, a full page of text providing background, and of course, notes and stats. The notes typically suggest how much money the Player Characters might make from their loot or handing in proof of their deaths, though not always—as the number of ‘No Reward’ entries suggest.
The entries include Sava Yegorovich, Collector of Soiled Souls, a legless traveller wreathed in toxic smoke, who visits the city on an arcanomechanical contraption to purchase vials containing soiled souls for his dreadful experiments that carries out in his laboratory deep in the forest. Babatyev Ilyich, Escaped Killer from Elsewhen, an extraplanar murderer who travels from world to world, killing, and then escaping to the next, though this time he is trapped, his route elsewhere having been destroyed. Now he is wanted by the authorities and there is a bounty on his head which grows as the number of bodies pile up, so there is a rush to find him. He usually attacks with his talons, but he can unleash a nightmarish fiend from the portal in his stomach! Nicolas Mocanu, Wizard of the Woods, rarely visits the city, but only does so when he needs spell and alchemical ingredients and components, and since he is short of time, he will hire likely adventurers to find them for him—and will pay handsomely if they do. The entry includes a list of some twenty items, like a Troll’s eye or the mummified remains of a beloved pet, each one a spur to entice the Player Characters to action.
Not all of the entries describe the vile and the villainous, though there are a number of visitors of extraplanar origins, murderers or not—and plenty of those. Otherwise, the less threatening includes Svetlana Botnari, Unliving Seamstress, travels to the city every full moon, and earns money with needle and thread, but is undead and the needles are her fingers, but despite this, her skills and speed are highly valued. Further, she is friendly, and is willing to hire adventurers prepared to protect her undead kin from raiders on the value where they live. Which means that the Player Characters might be protecting the undead from the living! Richards and Roger, a Ruffian and a Gentleman, are a pair of ordinary fish, magically transformed, enlarged, and enhanced, though without legs—instead they each wear a suit of armour with the necessary legs—and with their master and creator dead, they have taken up residence in the city. One works as a hired thug and goon, the other a gentleman trader, but are otherwise inseparable. They are easily found in the city, meeting up in a tavern to catch on their activities of the day.
‘Strange Visitors to the City’ takes up over half of Strange Visitors to the City. It presents a collection of monsters and the monstrous, many of them evil in nature, and if not that, evil looking. They are invariably challenging opponents should the Player Characters go after then for their bounty, if there is one, that is. As with Strange Citizens of the City before it, the entries described in the ‘Strange Visitors to the City’ table—and elsewhere in the fanzine—do all feel as if they would fit in the one city. A dark twisted city with a Slavic feel where arcanotech, a mixture of magic and technology is available.
‘Strange Visitors to the City’ is followed by a shorter table. This is ‘1d6 Unusual Places’, a companion piece to the ‘1d8 Places in the City’ in Strange Citizens of the City. They include Jelena Romanovna’s Home for Orphans, a three-storey tower where wayward children are taken in and unfortunately beaten until they accept training as pickpockets and thieves. The Broken Clock Tower, a spire located deep in the city centre, long abandoned and in a state of disrepair, such that some have called for it to be pulled down and replaced, but moans and the rattling of chains from within indicate that someone or something is using it still, but who? Adventurer and raconteur, Godzimir Mazur, has won a former gambling hall and turned it into coffee shop, but he has no head for business and it is failing. Can he be helped or would he be happier just to sell up?

‘4d6 Rumours’ suggests things that the Player Characters might hear in taverns or down alleys, such as the ‘fact’ that Jelena Romanovna’s Home for Orphans is also the location of a black market every week or two; the burning of a red candle attracts the evil spirits of the dead, so anyone doing so is clearly an agent of death and destruction; or that if anyone who easts a sacred scroll is forever transformed into a being of unimageable power capable of surviving any encounter with evil. Plus, the scrolls taste great when smeared with honey! Some of the rumours connect to other entries in Strange Visitors to the City, but most do not. All will require some development by the Game Master.

Lastly, ‘2d4 Hired Goons’ presents another collection of hirelings, simply detailed and each with a special trait, such as ‘Conniving’ or ‘Experienced’. Few are obviously beneficial, such as the ‘Underworld Knowledge’ of Lukas Hofstetter, who can help the Player Characters find information about crime and criminals for a price, but most are not. Darin Masur is ‘Bloodthirsty’ and has trouble ending a fight or a battle if any opponents are still alive, and might even turn on his allies! He has a hatred of the city guard too and that is likely to get him into trouble as well as those who hired him. All seven NPCs are ready to drop into the city.
Physically, Strange Visitors to the City is very nicely presented. Although it makes strong use of colour, it uses a softer palette than Mörk Borg, but scratchier and stranger, though still easier on the eye. The artwork throughout is excellent.
Strange Visitors to the City is a set in some strange city where twisted men and women and other things lurk in the side streets, where great evil hides behind populism, and arcanotech is put to dark uses. It is the same city as populated in Strange Citizens of the City, and whilst it is a standalone title, Strange Visitors to the City strongly complements it. Although intended for use with Mörk Borg—and it shares the same doom-laden sensibility—the contents of Strange Visitors to the City would work with any retroclone or be easily adapted to the roleplaying game of the Game Master’s choice. However, they do all feel as if they live in the same city, a city waiting to be detailed. Perhaps a city that Philip Reed Games could detail in a future fanzine? In the meantime, Strange Visitors to the City is an entertaining and useful collection of NPCs and encounters for the Grimdark roleplaying game of the Game Master’s choice.

 Jonathan Harker leaves Munich and enters the lands of Eastern Europe, where he eventually meets with Count Dracula.

--

CHAPTER I

JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

(Kept in shorthand.)

    3 May. Bistritz.—Left Munich at 8:35 P. M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.

We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called “paprika hendl,” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I don’t know how I should be able to get on without it.

Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.

In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)

I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then. I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was “mamaliga,” and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call “impletata.” (Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?

All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier—for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina—it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.

Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress—white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, “The Herr Englishman?” “Yes,” I said, “Jonathan Harker.” She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter:—

“My Friend.—Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

“Your friend,
“Dracula.”

--

Notes

Moon Phase: First Quarter

This really is the last time things are normal for Harker and the reader. Great way to begin this novel. The English reader of the time would have wanted to read of far away places where the people were different than they were, but comfortable in the fact they were in fact far away.  There was some xenophobia back then.

This is also the start of the main themes of Dracula. West vs. East, New vs. Old, Science and Technology vs. Religion and Magic. I will detail these more as they happen.

A note on Dates: The exact year this is all supposed to be taking place is a bit of a debate. Dracula was published on May 26, 1897, so we can be reasonably assured this is taking place before that. There are some other elements, but I am going to put a stake (heh) in the ground for 1892. This will put May 3 on Tuesday, though I need to consider if trains would have run on a Sunday. 

On the tail of the Old School Renaissance has come another movement—the rise of the fanzine. Although the fanzine—a nonprofessional and nonofficial publication produced by fans of a particular cultural phenomenon, got its start in Science Fiction fandom, in the gaming hobby it first started with Chess and Diplomacy fanzines before finding fertile ground in the roleplaying hobby in the 1970s. Here these amateurish publications allowed the hobby a public space for two things. First, they were somewhere that the hobby could voice opinions and ideas that lay outside those of a game’s publisher. Second, in the Golden Age of roleplaying when the Dungeon Masters were expected to create their own settings and adventures, they also provided a rough and ready source of support for the game of your choice. Many also served as vehicles for the fanzine editor’s house campaign and thus they showed another Dungeon Master and group played said game. This would often change over time if a fanzine accepted submissions. Initially, fanzines were primarily dedicated to the big three RPGs of the 1970s—Dungeons & Dragons, RuneQuest, and Traveller—but fanzines have appeared dedicated to other RPGs since, some of which helped keep a game popular in the face of no official support.

Since 2008 with the publication of Fight On #1, the Old School Renaissance has had its own fanzines. The advantage of the Old School Renaissance is that the various Retroclones draw from the same source and thus one Dungeons & Dragons-style RPG is compatible with another. This means that the contents of one fanzine will be compatible with the Retroclone that you already run and play even if not specifically written for it. Labyrinth Lord and Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplay have proved to be popular choices to base fanzines around, as has Swords & Wizardry. Then there is also Old School Essentials.

In the early days of the hobby, following the publication of first Dungeons & Dragons in 1974, and then Basic Dungeons & Dragons and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, the nascent hobby was awash with creativity much of which would find an outlet in the fanzines of the day. Yet due to the vagaries of time and history, much of the content of those fanzines have been lost. What though, if a creator today, could delve back into that history and resurrect that content for today’s audience? This is the conceit behind The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes, ‘A GATEWAY TO ADVENTURE supplement for use with the Original Edition Fantasy and Old School Essentials Retro Adventure Game’. Published by Appendix N Entertainment, this is an attempt to resurrect two Classes for Dungeons & Dragons that never made into print and present them for use with the Old School Renaissance. Conceit, because truth be told, the author has relatively little on which to base the new Classes he creates for the fanzine, and consequently, they are more his creation rather those of Dave Arneson, the co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons. This does not means that the floor Classes presented are bad, but rather that their heritage is perhaps not as strong as the author wish it to be.

Further, it should be noted that two of the four Classes are not Arnesonian and feel as if they are drawn from other sources, being the creation of the author. The two Arnesonian Classes are the Merchant and the Sage, whilst the two that are not are two of the Beast Folk Classes, the Chimpanzee Folk and the Duck Folk. Then, both the Chimpanzee Folk and the Duck Folk are presented as Races rather than Classes. In this way, The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes supports both the ‘Race as Class’ of Basic Dungeons & Dragons and the ‘Race & Class’ of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, or in contemporary terms, the ‘Race as Class’ of Old School Essentials Classic Fantasy and the ‘Race & Class’ of Old School Essentials: Advanced Fantasy.

The two Arnesonian Classes, the Merchant and the Sage, are highly skill-based. The Merchant knows more languages, and besides ‘Find or Remove Traps’ and ‘Open Locks’, has ‘Bargaining’ and ‘Appraisal’ for dealing with the buying and selling of goods (and treasure found too), and ‘Equivocate’, the ability to hide the truth, avoid commitment, and so on. Combined with the ‘Know Direction’ ability, and what you have is a Class dedicated to travel and trade. The Merchant is also a member of, owes dues to, a merchant’s guild, which the Game Master can use as a factor and influence in the Player Character’s life and career. The Sage also knows more languages and is a member of his own guild, but primarily specialises in ‘Sage Knowledge’, an academic area like Botany/Herb-lore, Astronomy, Theology, and Archaeology. The more Intelligent the Sage, the more areas of expertise he specialises in. Although not a spellcaster, the Sage Class can use arcane magical items, such as wands. Lastly—quite literally—the Sage has one special ability that he can use when dying due to a malicious act. This is the ‘Sage’s Cure’. If bestowed by a high-Level Sage, it can be really powerful, like not being able to make any Saving Throw ever again!

Both the Merchant and the Sage Classes are interesting, the latter perhaps more familiar because it was included as an NPC type in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Both though, are limited as adventuring Classes in the classic sense. The Sage in particular, has limited adventuring skills and whilst he knows a lot, the problem really is how to bring that knowledge into play and have it be useful in a game, since this is not a feature of Dungeons & Dragons-style roleplaying games. This is less of a problem for the Merchant, since the Class does possess abilities and skills that can be useful in a game. Nevertheless, the Game Master is going to have cater for the trading aspect of the Merchant in her campaign for a player to want to play it and use all of the Class’ abilities, whilst working extra hard to bring the areas of knowledge and expertise of the Sage into play and make them pertinent and useful. This may well be so challenging, that the Sage may still be best suited to an NPC role.

The other two Classes in The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes are the Chimpanzee Folk and the Duck Folk. The Chimpanzee Folk is like the Sage in having ‘Chimp Knowledge’, which works like ‘Sage Knowledge’ and extra languages, but otherwise more physical with the ‘Climb Sheer Surfaces’, ‘Falling’, and ‘Tightrope Walking’ skills, whilst the ‘Evasion’ ability enables a Chimpanzee Folk to tumble out of melee and avoid an opponent’s usual bonus to hit. The Duck Folk is viewed as an aberration, touched by Chaos, by almost everyone bar other Duck Folk and the most knowledgeable of Sages. A Duck Folk has the innate abilities of ‘Know Direction’ and ‘Natural Swimmer’, but also loathes the undead, so can ‘Turn Undead’ and has bonuses in combat against the undead with ‘Undead Slayer’. Rounding out The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes is a more detailed examination of both the Chimpanzee Folk and the Duck Folk as Races and the fanzine’s own ‘Appendix N’. In the case of the descriptions of the Chimpanzee Folk and the Duck Folk as Races, it does flesh both out, whether they are being played as ‘Race as Class’ or ‘Race & Class’.

Of the two, the Chimpanzee Folk feels more sensible than the Duck Folk. In both cases, the inspiration is obvious. The Chimpanzee Folk is inspired by Doctor Cornelius and Doctor Zira of Planet of the Apes, whilst the Duck Folk feels inspired by the Humakti undead-hating Ducks of Glorantha of RuneQuest: Roleplaying in the Glorantha as much as Howard the Duck and Duck Tales.

Physically, The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes is well presented. It is well written and the artwork decent enough even if the major inspiration upon the illustrations of the Duck Folk is Disney.

The usefulness of The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes is debateable. The easiest Class to play and include in a campaign is the Duck Folk and that is also the silliest, the one most likely to stick out in a standard campaign, and the least interesting. The Chimpanzee Folk is not quite as silly, but not as easy to bring into play, because catering for the knowledge aspect of the Class, as with the Sage Class, shifts some of the emphasis of play away from action and adventuring. As does the need for trade and barter with the Merchant Class, but that Class does include adventuring skills alongside those required for trade and barter. This does not mean that the Classes in The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes are unplayable, but rather that in many cases they make demands of a campaign that will need to be accommodated. Consequently, the best use of the Classes in The Lost Classes: The Arnesonian Classes is to create worlds where they fit rather than shoehorn them into standard fantasy worlds where they do not.

 It's May and that means Science Fiction here at the Other Side. This year I am doing D&D 50th Anniversary, so I want to focus this month on D&D-related Sci-fi.  For today I have a couple of great Kickstarters/Crowdfunded RPGs that are the spiritual heirs to the sci-fi games of the 1980s.

Atomic Age

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/dlimedia/atomic-age?ref=theotherside

This is a new sci-fi post-apocalyptic d20-based game from David Flor and Dark Light Interactive. 

It looks like a lot of fun, and is going for that "Gamma World" vibe.  The core rules look fun, but the bestiary has me all kinds of excited. 

There is a Quick Start preview you can grab for free. 

So definitely check this one out!

And this one will launch next week. We are looking for more people to sign-up for this one.

Thirteen Parsecs

http://tinyurl.com/13psignuptim

Thirteen Parsecs is coming! Please sign up to get notified of our launch of the Backer kit.

We want this game to be your sci-fi RPG of choice, so help us make that happen.

This uses the same O.G.R.E.S. as NIGHT SHIFT and Wasted Lands. There will be "Solar Frontiers," which are mini-settings you can use to start your game. My Solar Frontiers will be "Space Truckers" and the currently titled "Dark Star" my "horror in space" setting.

Let's get these both funded!

On the tail of Old School Renaissance has come another movement—the rise of the fanzine. Although the fanzine—a nonprofessional and nonofficial publication produced by fans of a particular cultural phenomenon, got its start in Science Fiction fandom, in the gaming hobby it first started with Chess and Diplomacy fanzines before finding fertile ground in the roleplaying hobby in the 1970s. Here these amateurish publications allowed the hobby a public space for two things. First, they were somewhere that the hobby could voice opinions and ideas that lay outside those of a game’s publisher. Second, in the Golden Age of roleplaying when the Dungeon Masters were expected to create their own settings and adventures, they also provided a rough and ready source of support for the game of your choice. Many also served as vehicles for the fanzine editor’s house campaign and thus they showed another Dungeon Master and group played said game. This would often change over time if a fanzine accepted submissions. Initially, fanzines were primarily dedicated to the big three RPGs of the 1970s—Dungeons & Dragons, RuneQuest, and Traveller—but fanzines have appeared dedicated to other RPGs since, some of which helped keep a game popular in the face of no official support.

Since 2008 with the publication of Fight On #1, the Old School Renaissance has had its own fanzines. The advantage of the Old School Renaissance is that the various Retroclones draw from the same source and thus one Dungeons & Dragons-style RPG is compatible with another. This means that the contents of one fanzine will compatible with the Retroclone that you already run and play even if not specifically written for it. Labyrinth Lord and Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Roleplay have proved to be popular choices to base fanzines around, as has Swords & Wizardry. Another popular choice of system for fanzines, is Goodman Games’ Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game, such as Crawl! and Crawling Under a Broken Moon. Some of these fanzines provide fantasy support for the Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game, but others explore other genres for use with Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game. One such fanzine is the aforementioned Crawling Under A Broken Moon.

Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5 was published in in December, 2014 by Shield of Faith Studios. It continued the detailing of post-apocalyptic setting of Umerica and Urth which had begun in Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 1, and would be continued in Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 2, which added further Classes, monsters, and weapons, Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 3, which provided the means to create Player Characters and gave them a Character Funnel to play, and Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 4, which detailed several Patrons for the setting. The setting has, of course, gone on to be presented in more detail in The Umerican Survival Guide – Core Setting Guide, now distributed by Goodman Games. The setting itself is a world brought about after a rogue object from deep space passed between the Earth and the Moon and ripped apart time and space, leaving behind a planet which would recover and it inhabitants ruled by savagery, cruel sorcery, and twisted science.

Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5 is where the fanzine really begins to deliver on its promise of gonzo post-apocalyptic content. This is because it has to take its inspiration—its very obvious inspiration—and adapt that without incurring any legal issues, making it playable, and making its source recognisable. This is because that inspiration is He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, the cartoon series based on the toy line from Mattel of the same name. Unfortunately, the history of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe and gaming has been decidedly spotty, including a poorly received Masters of the Universe Roleplaying Game published by FASA, Inc. in 1985 and the more recent He-Man and the Masters of the Universe Battleground miniatures skirmish game from Archon Studios. Sadly, the planned Legends of Grayskull: Masters of the Universe Tabletop RPG using Cortex Prime from Fandom, the company behind Dungeons & Dragons online tool D&D Beyond, is yet to appear. In the meantime, there is Crawling Under A Broken Moon, Issue No. 5, which serves up something almost, but not quite like He-Man and the Masters of the Universe.

The issue introduces a land that lies in the northern reaches of Umerica. This is Aetheria, where the Masters of Castle Oldskull do fierce battle with the lich Skull-Or and his mighty minions in the Darklands beyond! The setting is introduced in ‘The Kingdom of Aetheria’, a land of forests and wetlands surrounding the Great Inland Sea, whose scattered tribes were united by the mighty hero, Mach-O [sic] with the strength of his sword arm and mystical arts. Dotted here and there throughout the kingdom are the ‘Grey Castles’, actually bunkers from the Forgotten War, in which can be found powerful arms and armour and even vehicles. The great Aetherian Heroes, worshipped as such by the populous, and employed by the kingdom’s rulers as protectors, covet this leftover technology, so controlling it is important. Thus, many provincial rulers take these bunkers as their headquarters and armories, controlling the flow of the technology into the hands of hired heroes.

This hero is detailed in ‘The Aetherian Hero Character Class’. Each follows the code of Mach-O in fighting evil, though the interpretation varies, so that some just fight evil and do nothing else, whilst others undertake other duties. Either way, the Aetherian Hero expects to be paid for his services. The Aetherian Hero will also need to achieve a great deed or survive a Character Funnel, if he is to be rewarded with a hero’s name and whilst he is trained in the use of most weapons and armour, he regards using anything other than Forgotten Tech artifacts or Aetherian Tech arms and armour as dishonourable and anathema. The Aetherian Hero Character Class begins play with set of Aetherian Armour and one Aetherian weapon, but can go to a Grey Castle at each Level and ask for more. The origins, material, appearance, and even Armour Class bonus of the armour is randomly determined, whilst the Aetherian Tech weapons are impressively oversized, so are not as easy to use, but do inflict extra damage and impress or intimidate in equal measure.

The Class also possesses an Honour Die, which is added to feats of Strength, attempts to intimidate or impress, and all damage rolls with melee or Forgotten Tech weapon attacks. However, it can be lost if the Aetherian Hero uses normal weapons and armour, undertakes menial labour the likes of which the peasantry would do, or refuses a challenge offered by an opponent of worthy stature. Overall, the Aetherian Hero Character Class has the feel of the big dumb, but honourable barbarian warrior, offering a technology-focused option in feel rather than play.

The technology itself is discussed in ‘Forgotten Tech of the Un Men’, the Un Men being robotic warriors programmed with human consciousness. Their technology is leftover from the Forgotten War, and whether it is a blaster, jetpack, armour, or personal vehicle, requires a power cell to work. Worse, the technology is temperamental and if it is used too often—even in the course of a day—it can suffer a meltdown and drain the power cell. The meltdown means that it simply stop functioning after rebooting, suffers a delay in its function, or even detonate! Common devices, once ubiquitous and cheap before the Forgotten War, include Power Harnesses and Power Swords, their abilities varying from device to device.

‘Into the Dark Lands’ describes the blighted, rocky land that lies to the north of Aetheria under sulphurous clouds, riddled with tunnels leading to horrible sites of ancient power and evil. It is home to two different factions which would change Aetheria if they could. The warrior Black Sun leads a number of Aetherian freemen and Tree-Hobbits against the southern kingdom in an attempt to reform the conditions of the common man, whilst the Warrior Lich, Skull-Or, powerful and corrupt wizard-hero

of Aetheria who was imprisoned in Castle Oldskull byMasters of Aetheria, where he learned its darkest secrets before escaping into the Darklands. That secret is very dark indeed—especially for wizards—and adds a nasty twist to the inspiration for Crawling Under A Broken Moon, Issue No. 5. Both Black Sun and Skull-Or are fully statted, so can appear as NPCs in the Game Master’s campaign, and in the case of Skull-Or, cackle a lot. The article really focuses on the NPCs, so the Dark Lands are underwritten.

Penultimately, ‘Castle Oldskull and the Masters of Aetheria’ details Castle Oldskull, a sapient extra dimensional fortress dedicated to the eradication of ‘evil magic’. Interestingly, it is possible for a First Level Player Character to pledge himself to Castle Oldskull and join the Masters of Aetheria. A successful applicant needs to complete a dangerous quest and only then will he become a squire. There are benefits, including healing and free ammunition for ranged weapons, but members cannot use sorcery and nor can they kill evil sorcerers. They have to be returned to Castle Oldskull for imprisonment. Included are descriptions of the current Masters of Aetheria—Mighty Man, descendant of Mach-O, Maste-at-Arms, cyborg with excellent scientific skills, Slam Man who magic helm is so tough he can survive any blow to the head—and more, most notably Geek-O, an inept and bumbling magician from another dimension! Castle Oldskull is essentially a character in its own right with its own agenda, not always aligned with those of the Player Characters.

Lastly, the regular column of ‘Twisted Menagerie’ details two new monsters. These are the ‘Serpentoid’, a muscular two-headed serpent man with an evil outlook and a liking for the mutagenic herbs that grow in the Dark Lands, each has a different mutation, like a prehensile tongue or a hideous rattle, and an ‘Un-Men’, one of the Robotic Tyrants from the Forgotten War, rarely found, but if so, typically in hibernation mode. These range from flamethrowers and plasma cannons to extension arms and Hypno Vox, and that is in addition to the Drones—effectively flying blasters—hosted by each ‘Un-Men’. Together, these add an extra pair of threats to the Dark Lands and are decently done.

Physically, Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5 is serviceably presented. It is a little rough around the edges, as is some of the artwork, but overall, it is a decent affair.

The problem with Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5 is that much of its contents have been represented to a more professional standard in the pages of The Umerican Survival Guide – Core Setting Guide, so it has been superseded and superseded by a cleaner, slicker presentation of the material.

Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5 is a big improvement over Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 4. It has more usable content, even if it is devoted to one theme. And what a theme it is! Over the top, ever so slightly tongue in cheek post-apocalypse Swords & Sorcery, very knowingly inspired by Saturday morning cartoons of the eighties, given an ever so slight, but dark twist. The result is engaging and entertaining, with easy to spot and embrace references, such that even the gamer with the barest of knowledge of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (and to an extent, She-Ra: Princess of Power) can play with the contents of Crawling Under A Broken Moon Fanzine Issue No. 5.