Friday, 11 March 2022
[Friday Faction] Game Wizards
Also published by The MIT Press, Game Wizards is not a book about the evolution of Dungeons & Dragons—the author’s Playing at the World: A History of Simulating Wars, People and Fantastic Adventures, from Chess to Role-Playing Games is a better book for that—but it is where this book starts. Before that, it recounts how Gary Gygax and Don Kaye form Tactical Studies Rules to self-publish games, with Brian Blume providing capital and becoming an equal partner with the death of Kaye, and then Gygax develops Arneson’s concepts with his own and creates Dungeons & Dragons. The key document and really the starting point for the book, out of which would stem the feud between Gygax and Arneson over who created what and how much was owed to whom, is the copyright and royalties agreement they signed in early 1974. Like Gygax and Arneson, and eventually their lawyers, Game Wizards returns to this document as well as the issue of who owns what shares in TSR again and again in its pages.
Once TSR is founded, Peterson rolls through its history year-by-year, from 1974 until 1985, charting its rise and fortunes. At the end of each year he lists various indicators, such as revenue, number of employees, stock evaluation, and Gen Con versus origin attendance figures—the later being a particular bone of contention with Gygax. Listed here also are the sales rankings as presented by Howard Barasch of SPI in comparison with both SPI and Avalon Hill, tracking how the company went from ‘Other’ to first place, and then never looked back. There are small moments of humour here as well, such as ‘Players Eliminated: Heritage’, referring to the miniatures and games company that was an early rival for TSR. These chapters also track the relationship between Arneson and Gygax as it goes from friendly to standoffish into outright adversarial with Gygax having TSR’s lawyers altering how Arneson can be referred to on projects from other publishers and Arneson even accepting the H.G. Wells Award for ‘All Time Best Role Playing Rules’ at the Origins convention in 1978 when it was clearly meant for Dungeons & Dragons and its publisher, TSR, Inc. Once the feud become litigious—and it does very quickly, Game Wizards brings in numerous court documents and begins to chart the effect of the litigation of both the case between Arneson and TSR (Gygax), and all too often, other employees at TSR. The year-by-year telling of the history, together with the figures at the end of each year, gives the story a game like feel, and that, together with the back and forth between Gygax and Arneson reads like a very personal game of Diplomacy, almost played out across the whole of the hobby, culminating in the infamous ‘The Ambush at Sherdian Springs’ in 1985.
Peterson makes the point that the infamous disappearance of James Dallas Egbert III and its widespread publicity—often at the hands of the private investigator, William Dear, would give Dungeons & Dragons and thus both TSR and Gygax press coverage like never before. It would fuel increased interest in the game and lead to a massive boost in sales. The ensuring Moral Panic surrounding the controversy of supposed Satanism in Dungeons & Dragons would do the same. The resulting sales would lead to the rapid expansion of TSR, not just in terms of turnover, but also growth, staff and corporate acquisition, and ambition. The company might have weathered the increase in the number of staff from less than thirty to several hundred, the purchase of Greenfield Needlewomen, and Gygax’s excursion to Hollywood on their own, but all together? It is clear in Game Wizards that TSR was ill-equipped to manage that number of people, and the nepotism which run rampant did not help. Of course, in its early days, members of both the Blume and the Gygax families were employed out of necessity, but in the early eighties, the Blumes employed their in-laws too, often to disastrous effect and with no comeback. Purchases like that of Greenfield Needlewomen, would amount to nothing, and although the fondly remembered Dungeons & Dragons Cartoon would result from Gygax’s time in Hollywood, little else did. Meanwhile, the raising of wrecks from Lake Geneva and the sponsorship of the US Winter Olympics team were simply wasted money. Together though, it meant that TSR and its management, led by Gygax and the Blumes were ill prepared to react when the downturn in the economy in the early eighties hit…
Throughout, there are fascinating asides and missed opportunities. For example, the combination of TSR deciding to step out of the miniatures field and the proposed purchase of Games Workshop—the early distributor of Dungeons & Dragons in the United Kingdom before the establishment of TSR UK—by TSR, never coming to pass, would mean that the British company would be free to pursue its own path. If it had happened, the history of the British hobby would have been very different, there would probably have been no Warhammer or Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, and probably a much more polarised hobby in the United Kingdom as a result. There are indications too of just how small roleplaying companies were during this period, certainly in comparison to TSR, which is often something that we forget, enclosed as we were back then (and still are to an extent) in the self-contained bubble of the hobby.
Ultimately, what we have in Game Wizards is a clash of personalities unwilling to concede to each other. Gygax wants to protect what he has built and provide for his family, but cannot balance his desire to simply write and create against the desire to maintain control of a business that he co-founded but was ill-suited to run. His brilliance lay in proselytising Dungeons & Dragons and bringing people together just as he did in the early days of TSR—he was a facilitator, not necessarily a businessman. Arneson wants to be recognised and paid his dues, and though ultimately he would be, in Game Wizards he is often shown as his own worst enemy. A font of creative ideas who did not respond well to either editing or criticism, and who comes across as petulant and a poor team player. Whereas Gygax’s posturing and protectionism, which would often drive much of both the hobby and the industry to side with the insecure Arneson, feels petty and vindictive. Similarly his feuds with other creatives and even with the Origins convention over which was bigger—Origins or Gen Con, possess a pettiness which has been lost in the retelling of his legend. If both Arneson and Gygax are far from perfect, they are not the villains of the piece. The Blumes—Kevin and Brian—fill that role, especially with the extent of the nepotism that saw them employ their extended family and grant them often ridiculous privileges. The reputation of the Blume brothers has long suffered in the telling of the history of TSR, and despite their seeding the company with start-up capital back in 1974, Game Wizards does them no favours.
Surprisingly, the biggest villain of all in the history of TSR, is revealed in Game Wizards to be anything but that! The reputation of Lorraine Williams, admittedly never a gamer, has perhaps been poorer than that of the Blume Brothers. Here she steps in at the last minute as the saviour of TSR from bankruptcy, working with the Blumes to oust Gygax lest he remain in control and unfortunately inflict more damage upon the company.
Throughout, Peterson draws from numerous documents and sources, including fanzines, convention programmes, news articles, and court documents and financial reports. This often gives the telling an impersonal feel, which histories with more personal recollections would obviously lack, but he counters this with numerous quotations from letters between Gygax and Arneson, and then Gygax and Arneson with others. This gives Game Wizards its personal touch and immediacy whilst at the same avoiding the issues that might arise through recollection and adherence to any orthodoxy or mythology attached to its subject matter.
Game Wizards ends in 1985, covering just the first twelve years of TSR’s history. It would have another twelve before being bought out by Wizards of the Coast in 1997. These years—and those after—are only treated briefly in Game Wizards and even though the author’s aim is tell the story of the relationship between Arneson and Gygax and the first twelve years of TSR, the book feels incomplete because of it. Fortunately, Slaying the Dragon: A Secret History of Dungeons & Dragons by Ben Riggs will cover this period. Like the earlier The Elusive Shift, it would have been nice to have included some thumbnail bibliographies of the men and women whose story is told in Game Wizards. Without them, this is very much a book for those already knowledgeable about the leading figures of the hobby in its early days and what they did.
Game Wizards: The Epic Battle for Dungeons & Dragons is a fascinating read and anyone with an interest in the history of roleplaying should read it. The reader will come away with the impression that the original and premier roleplaying game still today, was created by two imperfect men, and whether because of their foibles, or in spite of them, their influence is still felt today. With Game Wizards: The Epic Battle for Dungeons & Dragons, Jon Peterson has slain the mythology and the orthodoxy by going back to source to give us a clearer, almost Shakepearian history of E. Gary Gygax, Dave Arneson, and TSR, Inc. than we were aware of.
Saturday, 1 January 2022
Reviews from R'lyeh Post-Christmas Dozen 2021
Since 2001, Reviews from R’lyeh have contributed to a series of Christmas lists at Ogrecave.com—and at RPGaction.com before that, suggesting not necessarily the best board and roleplaying games of the preceding year, but the titles from the last twelve months that you might like to receive and give. Continuing the break with tradition—in that the following is just the one list and in that for reasons beyond its control, OgreCave.com is not running its own lists—Reviews from R’lyeh would once again like present its own list. Further, as is also traditional, Reviews from R’lyeh has not devolved into the need to cast about ‘Baleful Blandishments’ to all concerned or otherwise based upon the arbitrary organisation of days. So as Reviews from R’lyeh presents its annual (Post-)Christmas Dozen, I can only hope that the following list includes one of your favourites, or even better still, includes a game that you did not have and someone was happy to hide in gaudy paper and place under that dead tree for you. If not, then this is a list of what would have been good under that tree and what you should purchase yourself to read and play in the months to come.
Friday, 5 March 2021
[Friday Faction] The Elusive Shift
Peterson’s starting point is that Dungeons & Dragons was not marketed as a roleplaying game, nor identified as one. It was a wargame—a wargame in which each player controlled one character or wargaming figure and there was Referee who would moderate the actions of each character and their outcome. Although it had an example of play, it did not explain how to play the game and certainly not how to roleplay, an issue which would beset the hobby for years to come. Instead, players had to learn by example, perhaps drawing upon their experience in the two cultures and communities which Dungeons & Dragons drew from and Gygax would market to. One was wargaming, with its history of refereed battles and then more recent focus on simulations using one figure per player, whilst the other was Science Fiction, with its rich source material and its tradition of telling refereed stories. Both would inform how Dungeons & Dragons would be played, but none of the new wargame’s adherents could agree as to exactly how. This would lead to a discourse which proliferated throughout the hobby over what was the right way as players and Referees grappled with such questions as to the role of the Referee, was he impartial or did he game against the players and their characters? What was the right way to create characters—adhere to the strict roll of the dice or adjust as necessary? How far should character competency factor into play versus player competency? Who should roll the dice—the Referee or the players? How much should the player know about the game’s mechanics? How should Alignment work and affect a character? And what is the point of play—to acquire Experience Points and become superhuman, to explore and tell a story, or a combination of the two?
These questions would be first answered and debated around the table, through actual play of the new game that was Dungeons & Dragons—and then later through other roleplaying games such as Tunnels & Trolls, Bunnies & Burrows, Traveller, and Empire of the Petal Throne, but first and foremost, always Dungeons & Dragons. As the first ‘roleplaying’ game, it provided both the first terminology and a common language for the hobby. In the years to come the resulting debates would subsequently be played out in magazines, such as White Dwarf and Different Worlds, and in more recent times, the Internet. The difference between then and now is that the discussion itself was new and the ideas behind it were being formulated, rather than necessarily reiterated. To explore these debates, Petersen notably draws heavily upon the fora readily available in the nineteen seventies to discuss roleplaying, what its was, and how it should be done—fanzines and amateur press association titles. Thus, in the pages of The Elusive Shift one can read about Lee Gold’s approach to in-character roleplaying, how Steve Perrin had his players roll up their characters, and how Greg Costikyan had implemented a ‘sex affiliation’ system instead of the traditional Alignment system of Dungeons & Dragons. The focus though is constantly on the first five or six years of the hobby following the publication of Dungeons & Dragons and the debate between the leading adherents of the differing philosophies in the ongoing debate over whether the first roleplaying game was a simulationist wargame in which the aim was to accumulate power, magic, gold, and more to become superhuman or a means to tell stories of fantastic adventure.
Ultimately, as thoroughly researched as The Elusive Shift actually is, it cannot quite identify when the shift of its title occurred. That is, when the roleplaying hobby identified itself as such rather than as a variation upon wargaming or Science Fiction fandom’s storytelling. Instead, it sets out the landscape for and highlights a number of shifts. One is the maturing of the discourse, undoubtedly fierce at times, but a discourse which would culminate in Glenn Blacow’s ‘Aspects of Adventure Gaming’ which appeared in Different Worlds #10 and suggested a model with four basic categories into which roleplayers could be put—‘Roleplaying’, ‘Story Telling’, ‘Powergaming’, and ‘Wargaming’. (An examination of the model can be found here.) This model would go on to form the basis for other models and inform the discussion henceforth. Another shift is the move from open sets of mechanics and games to closed sets of mechanics and games, at the forefront of which was the commercial move by E. Gary Gygax from the openness of Dungeons & Dragons where the Dungeon Master had the freedom to run the game as he wanted and to import or devise whatever rules or mechanics he liked (and was a widely accepted practice, but would also add to a debate as to whether Dungeons & Dragons was a design toolkit or a game) to Advanced Dungeons & Dragons which was closed because it was not designed to accommodate ‘unofficial’ content from elsewhere. Lastly, there is the shift in generations, when the growing popularity of Dungeons & Dragons brought in a wave of younger, immature players, who had not had the benefit of the five years of discourse that had helped form and inform the hobby. Most of whom of course, would be locked into the closed world of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and its orthodoxy, but who of some would go on to have the same conversations explored by The Elusive Shift and greatly influence the hobby today.
The Elusive Shift is a dense and not always an easy read. As an academic work it is not necessarily a casual read, but it is a fascinating one, capturing a history that few of us remember or have access to. It also throws a spotlight on the leading contributors to those first debates—Glenn Blacow, Sandy Eisen, Kevin Slimak, Mark Swanson, and others. (If there is perhaps something lacking in its pages, it would have been pleasing to least include some details on each of these figures in the pages of The Elusive Shift.) Ultimately, there is the sense that the debate as to what a roleplaying game is and what roleplaying is, is never going to be settled, but reiterated and explored again and again, but in the pages of The Elusive Shift: How Role-Playing Games Forged Their Identity that debate is examined when it was wholly new and captures it for posterity. Perhaps it might be worth examining this first debate before engaging in the next?
