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Dead Ecstasies of Questing Knights!
Jan. 28th, 2002 03:07 pm“All things roll here! Horrors of midnights, campaigns of a lost year, dungeons disturbed and groves of lights. Echoing on these shores, still clear, dead ecstasies of questing knights. Yet how the wind revives us here!”
By cracky, that’s good stuff! The above (possibly inaccurate) quote, taken from a piece by French poet Arthur Rimbaud, is reprinted at the start of the D&D module “The Sunless Citadel.” It could easily serve as the unofficial slogan of dinner-table knights the world over. Last night I met with the New Model RPG Army for our first foray into the world of Greyhawk, and"The Sunless Citadel" was on tap.
I must say, and no offense intended to any readers I game with, that this may be the best D&D group I’ve played with, and may even turn out to be the best RPG group I’ve encountered. Their “performance” last night easily equaled that of my own long-time group on our best nights. They leapt into character immediately, interacting realistically with the townspeople (almost depleting my repertoire of humorous minor NPC voices!) and chasing down clues and plot hooks with wild abandon. It took them three hours of solid role-playing to get to “the dungeon” that forms the core of the module. In that time, they developed a connection to the town, and just as importantly, quickly made ties to the other characters in the group. They didn’t go “into the hole” until each one of them had a damn good reason to do so.
Once in the dungeon, they were creditably nervous and jumpy. They were, after all, young adventurers, venturing for the first time into potenially life-threatening combat. When I think “Greyhawk,” I think alternately of power-gamers kicking in door after door, or of 14 year old geeks delivering lame speeches in bad english accents. (Verily, I beist Lord Angstalot! What name beist ye knowneth as?) This was a good, fun game session with plenty of role-playing leavened with hearty battle, albeit against animated shrubs and big rats.
We meet again in two weeks. I look forward to it. We had a discussion at the previous meeting about what makes a good campaign. Basically, we all felt that the best D&D campaigns were ones wherein all the participants are out of school. The gaming groups which created worlds like Dragonlance or Greyhawk or the Forgotten Realms were all made up of adults. The biggest problems for most adult game groups, of course, are time and geography. Getting the old gang together gets impossible for weeks at a time, and the role-play spark grows dim. One needs to find a new group, locally, to get the old ball rolling once again.
So, that was Sunday night. Let us move backward in time now... back! Back! To the misty-depths of pre-weekend!
On Friday, the missus and I went to Thebitterguy’s grand birthday bash in Mississauga. I’d not heard of this Fox and Fiddle place before, but apparently its a whole chain of quite good pseudo-pubs. They had haggis on special, and I fully intended to order it. However, since everyone trickled in over an extended period, I forgot my resolution, and ended up getting boring ol’ chicken and taters. ‘Twas good company and good conversation, but Erin and I left after three hours, just before the bowling started. It’d been a looong day. We both went to sleep almost as soon as we got home. Felt a bit rotten for not finding thebitterguy a gift. Perhaps something small. Wait! I know... heh. He’ll like that.
Saturday we were back in Mississauga for a party, this time a housewarming dinner at Melissa and Mark’s for a roast beef dinner and chit-chat. Mark does indeed have a large collection of Fighting Fantasy solo games - perhaps 50 of them. I was suitably impressed. Afterwards, we played that Super Mario Bros. Go Cart game. I did quite well, placing 2nd most of the time.
When I was a teen I played Nintendo quite regularly, and drooled over upcoming game release. I watched any and every TV show that even slightly smacked of sci-fi elements. Hell, I watched “War of the Worlds” for three long seasons. It’s been a long time since this geekish bent was indulged to the fullest, though. As we played on the N64, I realized that I haven’t touched a console game (except my Intellivision! Woo!) since highschool, about a decade ago. “So, how about that hot new Sega Saturn all the kids are playing? I hear it’s the Cat’s Pajamas!”
And as for geekish TV shows, well, let me just say I’ve not seen a single episode of Xena, Buffy, or Angel. I’ve seen only two episodes of the X-Files, both season finales. I’ve seen MAYBE three episodes of Babylon Five. I publicly declare my love of Farscape, but I’ve never bothered to watch a whole episode, and I can never remember the name of any of the characters. How dare I call myself a fanboy!
Am I losing touch, here? When I watch TV, I generally flip through all the stations and stop at Discovery Channel, hoping for a show about ants or space travel. Or heck, even both. There are far too few insect-astronaut documentaries on these days! Instead, I'm presented with the same parade of credulous "Chariots of the Gods" specials, this time with CG and voice-over by John Rhy-Davies, instead of artist renditions and Leonard Nimoy. (This week - In search of... Sasquatch! Imaginary or Fictional?)
I read now more than I have in a long time, but it’s generally light stuff like P.G. Wodehouse. I hardly touch sci-fi. I don’t read comics, and I don’t care to. I don’t look forward to movies. Furry fandom doesn’t grab me, though I still love the anthropomorphic genre. (I want Mole, Badger and Water-Rat “messing about in boats.” I want bloody Fiver and goddamn Hazel plotting to take out the Efrafa Owsla. I DON'T want a random “gay lion” from Europe ICQing me to make dull small talk, and then ask me “Do you do vore?” Arrgh! )
It seems all I’ve got left to secure my claim to the Sacred Order of the Anorak-Clad Wanker is an encyclopedic knowledge of Dr. Who, an ongoing lust for sweet, sweet Perpigilliam Brown, and, of course, the largest collection of Doc Savage novels on the block. Though Brian, of the New Model RPG Army, has 150 or so, about four times the size of my collection. Lucky Bastard!
Hey! There it is! The old geek one-up-manship has reared its head! I’m saved! Dress me in a wool jumper and call me Dwayne Dibbler, for I’m back in the Land of Nerd! Woot!
By cracky, that’s good stuff! The above (possibly inaccurate) quote, taken from a piece by French poet Arthur Rimbaud, is reprinted at the start of the D&D module “The Sunless Citadel.” It could easily serve as the unofficial slogan of dinner-table knights the world over. Last night I met with the New Model RPG Army for our first foray into the world of Greyhawk, and"The Sunless Citadel" was on tap.
I must say, and no offense intended to any readers I game with, that this may be the best D&D group I’ve played with, and may even turn out to be the best RPG group I’ve encountered. Their “performance” last night easily equaled that of my own long-time group on our best nights. They leapt into character immediately, interacting realistically with the townspeople (almost depleting my repertoire of humorous minor NPC voices!) and chasing down clues and plot hooks with wild abandon. It took them three hours of solid role-playing to get to “the dungeon” that forms the core of the module. In that time, they developed a connection to the town, and just as importantly, quickly made ties to the other characters in the group. They didn’t go “into the hole” until each one of them had a damn good reason to do so.
Once in the dungeon, they were creditably nervous and jumpy. They were, after all, young adventurers, venturing for the first time into potenially life-threatening combat. When I think “Greyhawk,” I think alternately of power-gamers kicking in door after door, or of 14 year old geeks delivering lame speeches in bad english accents. (Verily, I beist Lord Angstalot! What name beist ye knowneth as?) This was a good, fun game session with plenty of role-playing leavened with hearty battle, albeit against animated shrubs and big rats.
We meet again in two weeks. I look forward to it. We had a discussion at the previous meeting about what makes a good campaign. Basically, we all felt that the best D&D campaigns were ones wherein all the participants are out of school. The gaming groups which created worlds like Dragonlance or Greyhawk or the Forgotten Realms were all made up of adults. The biggest problems for most adult game groups, of course, are time and geography. Getting the old gang together gets impossible for weeks at a time, and the role-play spark grows dim. One needs to find a new group, locally, to get the old ball rolling once again.
So, that was Sunday night. Let us move backward in time now... back! Back! To the misty-depths of pre-weekend!
On Friday, the missus and I went to Thebitterguy’s grand birthday bash in Mississauga. I’d not heard of this Fox and Fiddle place before, but apparently its a whole chain of quite good pseudo-pubs. They had haggis on special, and I fully intended to order it. However, since everyone trickled in over an extended period, I forgot my resolution, and ended up getting boring ol’ chicken and taters. ‘Twas good company and good conversation, but Erin and I left after three hours, just before the bowling started. It’d been a looong day. We both went to sleep almost as soon as we got home. Felt a bit rotten for not finding thebitterguy a gift. Perhaps something small. Wait! I know... heh. He’ll like that.
Saturday we were back in Mississauga for a party, this time a housewarming dinner at Melissa and Mark’s for a roast beef dinner and chit-chat. Mark does indeed have a large collection of Fighting Fantasy solo games - perhaps 50 of them. I was suitably impressed. Afterwards, we played that Super Mario Bros. Go Cart game. I did quite well, placing 2nd most of the time.
When I was a teen I played Nintendo quite regularly, and drooled over upcoming game release. I watched any and every TV show that even slightly smacked of sci-fi elements. Hell, I watched “War of the Worlds” for three long seasons. It’s been a long time since this geekish bent was indulged to the fullest, though. As we played on the N64, I realized that I haven’t touched a console game (except my Intellivision! Woo!) since highschool, about a decade ago. “So, how about that hot new Sega Saturn all the kids are playing? I hear it’s the Cat’s Pajamas!”
And as for geekish TV shows, well, let me just say I’ve not seen a single episode of Xena, Buffy, or Angel. I’ve seen only two episodes of the X-Files, both season finales. I’ve seen MAYBE three episodes of Babylon Five. I publicly declare my love of Farscape, but I’ve never bothered to watch a whole episode, and I can never remember the name of any of the characters. How dare I call myself a fanboy!
Am I losing touch, here? When I watch TV, I generally flip through all the stations and stop at Discovery Channel, hoping for a show about ants or space travel. Or heck, even both. There are far too few insect-astronaut documentaries on these days! Instead, I'm presented with the same parade of credulous "Chariots of the Gods" specials, this time with CG and voice-over by John Rhy-Davies, instead of artist renditions and Leonard Nimoy. (This week - In search of... Sasquatch! Imaginary or Fictional?)
I read now more than I have in a long time, but it’s generally light stuff like P.G. Wodehouse. I hardly touch sci-fi. I don’t read comics, and I don’t care to. I don’t look forward to movies. Furry fandom doesn’t grab me, though I still love the anthropomorphic genre. (I want Mole, Badger and Water-Rat “messing about in boats.” I want bloody Fiver and goddamn Hazel plotting to take out the Efrafa Owsla. I DON'T want a random “gay lion” from Europe ICQing me to make dull small talk, and then ask me “Do you do vore?” Arrgh! )
It seems all I’ve got left to secure my claim to the Sacred Order of the Anorak-Clad Wanker is an encyclopedic knowledge of Dr. Who, an ongoing lust for sweet, sweet Perpigilliam Brown, and, of course, the largest collection of Doc Savage novels on the block. Though Brian, of the New Model RPG Army, has 150 or so, about four times the size of my collection. Lucky Bastard!
Hey! There it is! The old geek one-up-manship has reared its head! I’m saved! Dress me in a wool jumper and call me Dwayne Dibbler, for I’m back in the Land of Nerd! Woot!
