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Sheets Before Characters

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When Dungeons & Dragons popularized the simulation of characters in games, it entailed that players fill out quite a bit of paperwork. Characters require a record of their names and ability scores as well as their dynamic attributes like equipment lists and hit points. As a way of preserving the state of the game for each player, the character sheet thus became an essential accessory in role-playing games. But before characters, there were similar record sheets used in some types of earlier simulations, and their continuity with the later Dungeons & Dragons accessories is immediately apparent upon inspection. Above is a sheet that shipped with Gygax and Arneson's first collaboration, the naval wargame Don't Give Up the Ship (1972).

Early strategy games minimized the need for keeping records about game elements. In chess, for example, all knights are identical: none are innately stronger than any other and they all move in precisely the same way. Moreover, there is no concept in chess that a unit might be damaged but not destroyed, and as such players do not need to keep track of any fact about the state of a knight other than its position, which the chessboard handily provides.

Once wargames aspired to a deeper level of simulation than chess, the changing states of units required a system of annotation. In the Reiswitz 1824 kriegsspiel, a handy chart accompanies the game which permits the referee to track numerical losses sustained by each unit. At the beginning of the game, the referee designates a pin corresponding to each unit in play, and then sticks these pins into the appropriate (for infantry, cavalry and artillery) category's starting location on the sheet. When a unit takes damage, that unit's pin is then moved to a dot on the sheet that reflects the number of losses sustained. An excerpt gives a sense of how that looked:


In retrospect, measuring only losses is a very coarse record for a game unit, but in Reiswitzian kriegsspiel troops of a type were not otherwise differentiated in power, movement, and so on. This style of record-keeping therefore remained the norm throughout the nineteenth century: we can find virtually the same system for unit losses in Totten's Strategos (1880), a game which would exert a large influence over Arneson's Twin Cities circle nearly a century later. A referee uses Totten's Table W to track losses by moving blue and red pins between numbered dots after combat:


It wasn't until the level of simulation deepened further that sheets would track game units individually, rather than in the communal fashion pioneered by Reiswitz. Credit for inspiring this direction must go to Fred T. Jane, whose famous yearly compendium of Jane's Fighting Ship began in 1898 as a means to identify and categorize the worlds' navies of his day. Since Jane's ship classification system factored into a naval wargame of his own invention, he devised an elaborate notation for specifying the armor and armanents of ships:


Jane captured the appearance and capabilities of a ship in a page of thickly-encoded text. While his naval wargame never became especially popular, Fletcher Pratt adapted its notation for the wargame he ran in Manhattan in the 1930s and 1940s. In Pratt's wargame, each player controlled a single ship, and each ship was described by a "ship-card" - effectively, the ship served as a character, as an atomic entity that existed as a surrogate for the player in the game world. Each player maintains their own ship-card, and as a ship withstands hits, Pratt instructs that "damage is noted on the card." We can see an example of a Pratt ship-card below from the late 1960s, printed on an early computer:


The front of the card (shown at top above) gives the ship's statistics; the back shows how the ship's performance degrades as it endures damage. Pratt's game was a favorite of Arneson's, and when he met Gygax in 1969, they agreed to collaborate on naval rules for the Great Age of Sail. It wasn't until two years later that they began circulating pre-publication drafts of their new game, and the published Guidon Games version of Don't Give Up the Ship didn't appear until 1972. In Pratt's tradition, their new game required players to manage the state of their ships on paper. But even before the game hit the market, hand-drawn "ship data sheets" circulated in the Twin Cities, like this one - recognizably hand-drawn by Mike Carr, who co-authored the game with Gygax and Arneson:


On these sheets we see fields for not just the name of the ship, but also that of its captain and the player. That reflects how the level of simulation had deepened still further, down to the point where the game now brought individual characters into the mix. These homegrown sheets were in use at the time when Arneson's Napoleonic-era naval wargamers also participated in his new Blackmoor campaign, at the dawn of dungeon adventuring. Blackmoor characters each had a handmade sheet recording their characteristics and progress, in a manner surely indebted to the wargaming tradition.

A New Dungeons & Dragons Timeline

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Following on the official release of the Dungeon Master's Guide, and thus the completion of the core 5th edition Dungeons & Dragons rulebooks, Wizards of the Coast has put up a new timeline of the history of Dungeons & Dragonson their web site. It replaces an older one dating to shortly after the turn of the millennium, which had been cited by numerous Wikipedia articles--but which unfortunately contained a few inaccuracies. I worked with Wizards to clean these up and provide a sturdier historical account of the game for today's readers.

I signed up for this at PAX East this past spring, when I had the chance to meet with Mike Mearls, who oversees Dungeons & Dragons development at Wizards. Mike attended a panel where I appeared along with Dave Ewalt and Ethan Gilsdorf to honor the 40th anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons. Afterwards, he dropped by the book signing, at which time I snagged this kinda blurry selfie of him and I:


I remember Mike joked that I was the only other person who had done as much work on Dungeons & Dragons in the past five years as him. As I had Mike's ear at dinner, I got to talking about a pet peeve of mine: that timeline. As I lamented then, the first six entries were totally wrong, and it didn't improve so dramatically after that. There were just too many sources online that departed from the narrative of Playing at the World by pointing to that timeline as a reference, and because it appeared on the Wizards site it counted as "official." Probably to get me to shut up about it, Mike agreed to connect me up to the right people inside Wizards.

Naturally, as someone historically-minded, I was interested not only in revising the timeline but also in researching where some of the original entries went astray. After comparing the dates to likely culprits, it was pretty clear that the website's timeline drew from the TSR Silver Anniversary booklet, which gives a history of TSR up to 1999, short after Wizards acquired the company. But before we lay the blame on Wizards for getting facts wrong, we can clearly see the the Silver Anniversary book drew on an earlier, internal TSR timeline from 1995, as excerpted here.


If we look at the entries for 1976, we can see an example of the breakage here: it says that TSR first hosted Gen Con that year, when in fact they were already footing the bill in 1975. But probably for most readers, the details of how things got broken are of less interest than the way they got fixed. Mike put me in touch with Bart Carroll at Wizards who I worked with to get a new version online. We narrowed the scope of the former timeline, which originally dealt with some titles other than D&D, but also expanded it up to the present. Hopefully the new version is an improvement, and will serve as a solid reference for online citations going forward.

When I was working towards publishing Playing at the World, Wizards very generously let me use some images they own in my book, and for that I remain grateful. Now, I am doubly grateful to Mike and all the folks at Wizards for including Playing at the World in the recommended reading list (Appendix D) of the new Dungeon Master's Guide!


I also want to say thanks to a few people who looked over this timeline in advance, including Bill Meinhardt and Peter Adkison.

Quagmire: The Making of a 1980s Dungeons & Dragons Module

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As my final contribution to role-playing game posterity for 2014, I wrote a new piece on TSR's internal process of making modules that the traces the evolution of one Expert-series product from its conception in 1982 to publication  in 1984. It turns out the development process could be a bit of a quagmire - maybe even nine hells worth of development.

Read it here on Medium.

2014: A Year in Review

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2014 is behind us. From all of us here at Playing at the World (well, that's actually just me), I wanted to thank everyone who follows the work here. Since the subject matter is a bit niche, and Playing at the World doesn't boast a great many social media followers, I'm really grateful to the folks with a wider audience who take the time to draw attention to my research.

For anyone who didn't obessively follow Playing at the World in 2014, here's a retrospective year in the life of a gaming historian.


At the end of 2013, I attempted to pinpoint the upcoming fortieth anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons. A few people thought my dating made sense: I even got a soundbite in USA Today about it. I'm sure it was the first thing I've written that was translated into Polish. On my suggested date of the anniversary, I did a reddit IAmA, courtesy of my friends at Gygax magazine. Some key figures in the development of role-playing games made video tributes to the birth of Dungeons & Dragons -- since I can't claim to be an eyewitness to that momentous event, the best I could do was to make a short video trying to highlight some key artifacts that led up to the Dungeons & Dragons phenomenon: "A History of D&D in 12 Treasures."

Directly after the anniversary, I gave my first of several public talks about gaming this year. That one was at USC. I then shifted to the East Coast to speak at PAX East in April with my friends Dave Ewalt and Ethan Gilsdorf. In the summer I could be found at Gen Con. Then in the fall I came back to Los Angeles to appear in a keynote conversation at IndieCade with the great Jennell Jaquays. There will be more to come in 2015!

Also related to the fortieth anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons, I had an unusual opportunity in March to play in the first level of Gary Gygax's original Greyhawk campaign -- in Gary Gygax's old basement in Lake Geneva, WI, where it all happened forty years ago. I took a little home video on the occasion, and my friend Ethan wrote a story around that video for Boing Boing. I had rolled a hopeless PC that day, an elf magic-user named Lyrax, who nonetheless managed to slay an ogre more or less single-handed with a dagger. It was such a shocking turn of events that my DM that day, Paul Stormberg (of the Collector's Trove), wrote a poem about my character. Once again, Mike Mornard's teachings are proven right.

Probably my gaming-related work that had the most impact this year was my article about TSR's corporate governance and the ouster of Gary Gygax, the "Ambush at Sheridan Springs." This piece got the most attention of anything about gaming I've ever written. It got Tweeted by Cory Doctorow and Khoi Vihn,  Tumbled by Wil Wheaton, and picked up by Daring Fireball and really too many other places for me to enumerate. I also snuck in a bit more color about the problematic TSR 1980-81 fiscal year on my blog.

I spent some time this year working with an anthropologist, my old school chum Alex Golub, on an article about the history of the concept of mana: how it began in Austronesia and ended up in World of Warcraft. While our academic article about this is slated for future publication, Alex wrote up a great overview of our research which you can read today.

This year, there was some controversy about the place of women in gaming. This ultimately inspired me to try to capture the origins of the "gamer" identity and to quantify female participation in the early gaming hobby of the 1960s and 1970s, where any statistics survived. My article about these questions, the "First Female Gamers," did not set out to fix the community's problems, but it perhaps shed some helpful light: it was picked up by an article on Polygon, for example.

When Goodman Games approached me about issuing a reprint of the original Metamorphosis Alpha booklet from 1976, I jumped at the chance to write an essay about the history of that pivotal game for inclusion in their deluxe edition. After a successful Kickstarter, the Goodman Metamorphosis Alpha is now available -- I got my copy in the mail not long ago. I'm just glad I was able to play some small role in the success of this project. I hope to be able to work with Goodman Games on more projects related to the history of the hobby.

It was with genuine delight that I was able this year to release on Playing at the World, free to download for the community, the text of Craig VanGrasstek's "Rules to the Game of Dungeon," the first known published variant of Dungeons & Dragons. I had written about this before, in my book and on my blog, so I was really thrilled when Craig contacted me and expressed his willingness to release the work again. It took us some time to get it into editorial shape: he hadn't seen the game in forty years, and my copy was not in the best condition. I hope the re-release of this game will help the community to understand how important fan-based creativity was to the early days of the hobby.

This year I asked Mike Mearls if I could fix the D&D history timeline on the Wizards web site. This ultimately led to a new version of the timeline on the Wizards site. You can read a bit more about my analysis of the prior timeline on my blog.

Finally, as a holiday present for the gaming community, I just this week released a new piece that tries to explain how a Dungeons & Dragons module in the 1980s came together. I chose as my subject the module Quagmire! (X6), by Merle Rasmussen. I hope this article gives us more insight into how TSR operated in the boom years of Dungeons & Dragons.

Oh, and I did find some time to play games this year, even. I particularly remember playing after-midnight Warhammer under Radek Drozdalski in a Boston brownstone, and visiting the Red & Pleasant Land of Zak S. in Los Angeles.

A lot of things I wrote in 2014 that I hoped would come out in 2014 did not, due to circumstances beyond my control. All I can say is, there's more to come. Happy New Year, and thanks for reading.

Gaming the Battle of the Five Armies

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Years before companies preemptively exploited transmedia opportunities, before computers made games a primary part of any media strategy, it was up to the fans to make game versions of their favorite stories. Stories could move from novels to the big screen, but commercial tie-in games, when they appeared at all, invariably recycled the play of familiar children's boardgames. Yet great war stories demanded wargames, and the boldest fans brought their wargame designs to the market heedless of the consequences. Here in the tussle between fans and rights holders, between hobbies and commercialization, with a hint of corporate intrigue thrown in the mix, lies the story of gaming the Battle of the Five Armies.

Tolkien's Middle-earth has always inspired its fans to participate in a way that goes beyond just reading. Early fanzines burgeoned with Tolkien theatrical renditions: as radio plays, as stage plays, as film scripts. Even before 1960, the pioneering British gamer Tony Bath had begun experimenting with a world of Tolkia as a fantastic setting for his games. Unsurprisingly, the Battle of the Five Armies stands among the earliest fantasy scenarios to inspire a wargame adaptation: the venerable War Game Inventors Guild of the 1960s, a group which Gygax briefly ran, drove development of a Five Armies game before the end of the decade but never produced a finished version. While Tolkien resurfaced in Diplomacy variants, in one-off games at conventions, and the like, these remained non-commercial fan activities in the 1960s.

The first commercial wargame product to include Tolkien's setting explicitly was the seminal fantasy wargame Chainmail (1971) by Gary Gygax and Jeff Perren. The text identifies itself as enabling players to "refight the epic struggles related by J.R.R. Tolkien" among other authors, and accordingly it includes balrogs, hobbits, ents, and various other inventions unique to Tolkien's work. It is thus unsurprising that Gygax wrote up a scenario for the Battle of the Five Armies using Chainmail rules. It appeared in the fall of 1973, only a few months before the release of Dungeons & Dragons, in an issue of the popular fanzine Panzerfaust (#60). 

Gary complains that "Tolkien, being neither a military historian nor a wargamer," usually left us fictional battle accounts "without sufficient hard data--so to speak--to allow duplication in miniature." But he sees in the Battle of the Five Armies an exception: "Knowing the number of dwarves to be 500, and that there were two waves of 1000 elves which attacked, the other forces can be approximated with fair credibility." He reckons that around 5,000 goblins assaulted the gates of Erebor under Lonely Mountain. In Gygax's version of the battle, Beorn arrives on the eighth turn, and the eagles on the twelfth, both after the second wave of goblins creeps up on the sixth turn.


However, Gygax would not have the final say on adapting this battle. Just as Dungeons & Dragons was released, a notice in the fanzine El Conquistador identified a gamer named Larry Smith as "organizing a 'Lord of the Rings' wargaming club to re-create the 'Odyssey of the Ring.'" A more detailed account in that fanzine two months later announced the foundation of Smith's LORE, the "Lord of the Rings Experimenters," a group for "those who are interested in recreating what the Middle-earth probably was like." Its charter included creating a "highly-detailed map" of Middle-earth and then distributing "countries and commands" to the members "for a form of miniatures and board game that will take place. When the game has been finished the game will be analyzed and made into a board game that will be published for the wargame market."

The game Smith self-published around a year later under his LORE imprint was the Battle of the Five Armies. Smith divides Tolkien's forces into two camps, which for convenience he calls the Axis and Allies. The former is the goblins and wargs led by a hero unit for Bolg; the latter compromises elves, dwarves, men, and eagles, along with the six hero units for Gandalf, Thorin, Dain, Beorn, Bard and the Elvenking (as Thranduil is called in The Hobbit). The armies contend on a hexmap which, like virtually all of the game components, prominently features a copyright notice assigning the work to Larry Smith.


Smith sold his game by mail for $4.50. An early review in Supernova #25 is largely negative, criticizing the game as a botched attempt to translate miniature wargame rules into a board game. His game might be little known today had it not attracted the interest of an unexpected champion: TSR. To expand its business in 1975, TSR began reselling miniatures and games produced by third parties. Naturally, they identified fantasy wargames as a core interest of their customers, and thus fall issue of the Strategic Review that year lists the availability through TSR of the Fact & Fantasy Games products Siege of Minas Tirith and Battle of Helm's Deep as well as Smith's game. But of those titles, they only brought one in-house, to reissue in 1976 as a TSR zip-lock bag product: the Battle of the Fives Armies.

Once TSR picked up his game, Smith became something of a Tolkien authority for the company. This afforded Smith the unusual honor of having not just one, but two bylines in the very first issue of The Dragon magazine: the first for his version of the Battle of the Five Armies as a fantasy miniatures game, based on Chainmail with some few modifications; the second for a brief piece on the "Three Kindred of the Eldar," to be followed two issues later by a reconsideration of dwarf Fighting-men as their own Dungeons & Dragons character class.

In 1977, TSR reissued Smith's Battle of the Five Armies in a boxed set with new color artwork, of the same size and construction as the Holmes Basic Dungeons & Dragons released at roughly the same time. Clearly, this product was intended to reach the larger audience that TSR had now found for Dungeons & Dragons. This time, the box quite blatantly bore the legend, "from 'The Hobbit,'" and on its sides, a tagline reads, "True to THE HOBBIT, either side can win!" Moreover, beneath the title of the game is an indication that TSR had applied to register a trademark on the very name "Battle of the Five Armies." TSR had not however secured any licensing agreement with the rights holders of The Hobbit.


By this point, it was not just upstarts but also established game publishers who courted fantasy fans. SPI had entered this market with its Sorceror in October 1975, not long after reviewing the Siege of Minas Tirith in its house organ Strategic & Tactics (#51). That very issue, SPI inquired into reader interest in a prospective "War of the Rings" wargame from SPI which would cover the Battle of the Five Armies as well as Helm's Deep and the Siege of Minas Tirith. It wasn't until the second half of 1977, however, that SPI committed to proceed: "After several months of negotiations with lawyers in both England and the United States" including those "representing the Tolkien estate" as well as those associated with ongoing screen adaptations (S&T #64), SPI greenlit the project, which would appear very late in 1977 as War of the Ring.

The timing of SPI's rights acquisition is especially interesting as, during those several months of negotiation between SPI and the holders of Tolkien's intellectual property, TSR received a cease-and-desist order which took Battle of the Five Armies off the market. Could SPI's legal process have called attention to TSR's unlicensed Battle of the Five Armies? When the game first appeared under Smith's LORE imprint, Strategy & Tactics reviewed it (in #54, deeming it "quite simple," a severe lashing when coming from SPI), and SPI tracked the game's popularity in subsequent issues - so surely they were aware it existed. It is also telling that, despite the aspiration expressed in S&T #51 to cover the Battle of the Five Armies in the War of the Ring, that fight is conspicuously absent from SPI's 1977 game. If SPI did negotiate to put out their own version of that battle, they did not succeed - so why should TSR be allowed to proceed with its pirate version, then?

In the lead-up to the November 1977 release of the Rankin/Bass animated film of The Hobbit on prime time television, the holders of Tolkien's intellectual property were no doubt alert to its unlicensed exploitation. It is entirely possible that TSR's sudden interest in promoting its Battle of the Five Armies in a pretty box was a cynical attempt to ride those coattails. These questions loom large because the withdrawal of the Battle of the Five Armies was only one effect of the cease-and-desist TSR received: the other, more famous - and more controversial - consequence was the removal of Tolkien's fantastic creations (such as balrogs, hobbits, and ents) from Dungeons & Dragons and Chainmail.

Disputes over gamifying the Battle of The Five Armies serve as a worthy example of the ethical difficulties in commercializing a hobby. When does a hobbyist's prerogative to explore scenarios turn into an act of piracy? Did Smith's Battle of the Fives Armies cross a line that Gygax's fanzine-distributed Chainmail version of the Battle did not? Recently, a new film adaptation of The Hobbit has brought a vivid and lengthy realization of the Battle of the Five Armies to the screen, and with it there are new licensed commercial tabletop games of the Battle (like the Ares Games rendition). Hobbyists interested in fighting the Battle for themselves today might draw inspiration from the earliest versions covered here - sometimes the most authentic game adaptations lose the battle for legitimacy.

Fortieth Anniversary of Games Workshop

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In February 1975, the circular above went out to a few hundred members of the hobby game community. It announced the formation of a new partnership in the United Kingdom called the Games Workshop, founded by Ian Livingstone, Steve Jackson, and John Peake. Their endeavor marked a crucial turning point in gaming as an international hobby: this British start-up operated by eager young fans would provide a launch pad for many games that might otherwise be overlooked by the European audience. Their discovery of one obscure American game in particular would have huge ramifications.


In a handwritten postscript to the circular above, Ian Livingstone cryptically identifies himself as a "redundant Albion cover designer." Prior to February 1975, very few British periodicals catered to the hobby gaming community, and those that did focused largely on miniature wargaming. Don Turnbull founded the the zine Albion in February 1969 to cover British Diplomacy games, as well as providing news on the American board wargaming scene surrounding Avalon Hill and SPI. Subscriptions to Albion ramped up slowly: as of December 1970, only fifty names appear on the roster, a tally that included Steve Jackson, a Keele University student in Staffordshire (not to be confused with the Texan Steve Jackson, of GURPS fame). Along with fellow student Peter Roberts, Jackson participated in a postal Diplomacy game published through the zine. As of issue #26 three months later, Ian Livingstone of Cheshire joined as Albion subscriber number 59, and quickly dove into Diplomacy variants himself.

The task of producing this bi-monthly zine became too onerous for Turnball, and he announced in issue #46 that he intended to retire Albion as of the fiftieth issue. At the start of 1975, the seventy-page issue #50 of Albion shipped to 213 subscribers, including 136 in the UK. Turnbull reported to the newszine Signal (#72) that he had already received three submissions for cover art for this final issue, including contributions from popular fan artists like Tim Kirk, so competition for this honor was fierce. Turnbull ultimately decided to go with two covers: a front cover done by George Forster, and a back cover by Ian Livingstone, hence a "redundant" one. As Turnbull says, "these two worthies have contributed the major proportion of Albion covers during the last five years." And indeed, throughout the later issues of Albion, there are numerous covers and cartoons by Livingstone. For the finale, Livingstone cannot help but draw himself into the bottom of the picture, proclaiming "The End":



But for Livingstone, February 1975 would instead be the beginning. With the Games Workshop circular above came the first oversized issue of a newsletter produced by the company called Owl & Weasel. O&W originally sprawled out in an A4 size format, though an editorial in issue #2 explained that it would be "economically impossible" to continue with that, and thus even reprints of #1 are in a digest size. Issue #1 carried a price of 10 pence, though the introduction began by demanding that readers "preserve this copy carefully! Who knows, the very piece of paper you now hold between your fingers may become a rarity, its value soaring to 1 3/4 times its present cost!" Collectors will report that original O&W's today, especially in that A4 form factor, command a slightly higher premium.

Naturally, as they hoped to reach both British and international gamers, the Games Workshop sent out complimentary copies of Owl & Weasel to Albion's subscribers, all of whom were listed in the final issue. That included Brian Blume, one of the three original principals of TSR, who became subscriber 192 as of Albion #47. However, even though the debut O&W expressed an interest in "progressive games" -- including Midgard and Tony Bath's Hyboria. both cousins of Dungeons & Dragons -- they apparently had no idea what was brewing over in Lake Geneva, WI.


It wasn't until Owl & Weasel #5 that intelligence reached the Games Workshop of the nature of Dungeons & Dragons. Steve Jackson reported in that issue that he hadn't played a game yet, but he "watched one in progress the other week at City University Games Club, and was fascinated." He promised "more news when I've played it." The following issue, dated July 1975, was suddenly festooned with Dungeons & Dragons. "The Workshop has now had a chance to play the game, and quite honestly, we are obsessed with the thing." Immediately, the Games Workshop pivoted towards the extraordinary new experience in gaming that Dungeons & Dragons offered, and began distributing the game in the UK. They even visited Lake Geneva for Gen Con in 1976. Dungeons & Dragons would dominate the remaining issues of O&W, up to 1977, when Games Workshop retired the zine in favor of their new, professional-grade offering, White Dwarf (which restored the elongated A4 format). We should not be surprised to find Don Turnbull's by-line in the first issue of White Dwarf, nor to find that his regular feature, the "Fiend Factory," would eventually populate the Fiend Folio (1981) published by TSR. Turnbull himself would run TSR's UK division.

By the mid-1980s, Games Workshop had put their own stamp on fantasy gaming with their Warhammer miniatures property, and through the many Games Workshop retail stores, they projected a huge international presence in the gaming community ever since. Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson both made contributions in too many areas to enumerate here. But it is in those early years, as pioneers in the young industry who championed role-playing games in an untested market, that they earned a place in history. The fortieth anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons last year necessarily precedes a spate of related fortieth birthdays, enough to clutter a calendar, but that calendar has plenty of room for the likes of Games Workshop.

World At War, the TSR of the Twin Cities

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In some of the earliest games produced by Tactical Studies Rules, we see a mysterious credit to an entity called "WAW Productions." WAW gets a prominent nod on the cover of the TSR hit location rules Bio One (1976). More striking is the 1975 notice on the title page of Empire of the Petal Throne that it is "Presented in Association with Mr. William J. Hoyt, W.A.W. Productions." That hints at a long forgotten fact: before TSR licensed Petal Throne, WAW had already secured an option to publish it. To learn the origins of some of TSR's seminal titles, we must therefore study the history of the obscure Twin Citites imprint known as World At War.

Bill Hoyt founded World At War in 1974, inspired by TSR's initial success in selling digest-sized pamphlets of game rules. Hoyt had long played with Arneson's group in the Twin Cities; meetings of their club (the MMSA) often took place at Hoyt's home. He was furthermore a member of the Castle & Crusade Society who had holdings in Arneson's region of the Great Kingdom before Blackmoor as we know it took shape. This positioned Hoyt to become one of M.A.R. Barker's earliest players of Empire of the Petal Throne, and thus to option the game for his newly founded World At War.

Bill Hoyt

Thus, when TSR acquired the rights to publish Empire of the Petal Throne, they had to execute two agreements: one with Barker, and another with WAW, initially granting WAW a 5% royalty as a finder's fee for turning over their option to TSR. By autumn, it was necessary for TSR to reduce that to a 1.5% royalty: they cut many such reduced agreements after the original partnership transitioned into TSR Hobbies, Inc. But this deal began a collaboration that would lead to further TSR products in the next year.

Before TSR sent Empire of the Petal Throne to the printers, they began to explore the rest of WAW's portfolio. As of May 1975, Gary expressed interest in distributing one of WAW's 1974 titles: Galactic Conquest.


TSR had then already produced Star Probe, which derived from a Twin Cities campaign Arneson and his friends had played starting in 1972. Gygax scrutinized Galactic Conquest over the next year or so, with an initial intention of acting as a distributor, but soon became interested in printing the work under TSR's imprint. As of June 1976, three WAW titles were under consideration for TSR, including the second 1974 WAW release: Bio One.


Jim Muscala, author of Bio One, was a Twin Cities wargamer; his name is one of the 67 that appears on a surviving September 1972 contact list for Arneson's broader gaming circle. He originally wrote Bio One as an explicit supplement to Michael J. Korns's Modern War in Miniature (1966), a set of rules specific to tactical miniature wargaming in the contemporary setting. TSR generalized the rules so that they might apply to any "gunpowder era" setting, with hints that Boot Hill (1975) would serve well.

Ultimately, TSR declined to publish Galactic Conquest, probably because it would encroach on the market for John Snider's follow up to Star Probe, Star Empires (1977), which TSR indeed marketed as "the game of galactic conquest." But at the same time they contracted to produce their own version of Bio One, TSR acquired another WAW title: Field Regulations (1976).


John Grossman, author of Field Regulations, had as far back as 1969 participated in Napoleonic wargaming with the South St. Paul group alongside Hoyt; dispatches from these games appeared regularly in Arneson's fanzine Corner of the Table, though Grossman himself did not participate in Arneson's famous Napoleonic Simulation Campaign. Curiously, the TSR version of Field Regulations contains no notice of WAW's involvement, even though it republished the work with little modification.

Ultimately, WAW produced no further material, but its story helps us to chart the social network that supplied TSR with games at the dawn of role-playing. Neither Bio One nor Field Regulations achieved great commercial success: they targeted traditional wargamers at a time when fantasy role-playing was ascendant. Hoyt, of course, did entertain titles for WAW catering to the new wave of gamers. He himself authored a Tékumel version of Dave Megarry's Dungeon board game, which he proposed to call Quest - Gygax favored calling it Catacombs, though after three years of development TSR opted not to publish it. Once it became known that WAW was in the market for fantasy titles, it did receive proposals for early Dungeons & Dragons variants... though that story will have to wait for another time.

To Hit Armor Class Zero

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The die roll value required for an attack to hit an armor class of zero, or "THAC0," is the signature combat mechanism of the second edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Revered by some and reviled by others, THAC0 replaced the combat matrices of first edition AD&D with pre-calculated values intended to be faster and more intuitive. Astute observers have long noted foreshadowing of a THAC0 system sprinkled throughout some first edition AD&D texts. It is however less widely known that THAC0 was in use with the original Dungeons & Dragons game, prior to the publication of the Players Handbook or Dungeon Masters Guide. The excerpt above is from Alarums & Excursions #31 (February 1978), and it describes the contemporary use of THAC0, including the acronym itself.

The origins of THAC0 have been the subject of considerable curiosity. It is unsurprising that the game Dungeons & Dragons shipped without the concept of THAC0: in the original three booklets, armor class ranged from nine to two, so zero was out of the question. When Greyhawk arrived in 1975, it brought with it a handful of monsters that bucked this trend: Tiamat, in her first appearance in games, had an armor class of zero, and the newly-introduced Will O'Wisp sported a shocking armor class of negative eight. As new monsters joined the bestiary in later expansions, zero settled into the middle of the armor class scale.

Los Angeles attracted a vibrant community of early adopters of Dungeons & Dragons, many of them students at local universities; it is unsurprising to find the roots of THAC0 in the UCLA Computer Club. In issue #32 of Alarums & Excursions, Sheldon Linker helpfully clarified the UCLA implementation of THAC0.


Linker does acknowledge that calculating THAC0 for original Dungeons & Dragons depends on many factors of a character, and that "THAC0 must be recomputed when any of this changes." The difficulty of recomputing THAC0 surely provided the biggest obstacle to its immediate adoption; the later success of THAC0 in second edition depended heavily on defining it in a way that only infrequently necessitated recalculation.

Los Angeles pioneers were not the only ones eager to speed up play by computing preliminary values before combat. The need for quick calculations was especially pressing for early tournament play, where games were typically time-constrained. While we don't see any evidence of such optimizations in the 1975 version of the Tomb of Horrors, by the following year, when Gary Gygax designed the original version of the Lost Caverns of Tsojconth (later module S4) for the Detroit Wintercon tournament dungeon, he had introduced a very interesting pre-calculated combat system.


Tsojconth was designed for six pre-generated characters. This excerpt from the dungeon master's cheat sheet assigns an "unadjusted die roll to hit" as a defensive characteristic to each of those six numbered characters in the upper right hand corner. On the offensive side, every monster had a "hit bonus," and to determine whether or not a monster hits with an attack, one simply adds that hit bonus to a d20 roll and determines if it exceeds the "unadjusted die roll to hit" for the target character. That latter figure was in turn derived by transforming the character's armor class, dexterity bonus, and relevant magic items into an additive defensive statistic. Similarly, the hit bonus aggregates all of the attacker's offensive bonuses into one sum. Thus, in order to hit pre-generated character #2 (Ethelrede the Fighter, with a defensive stat of 23), a Bronze Dragon (with a hit bonus of 9) needed to roll a 14 or higher. A separate sheet included with the tournament module similarly assigns a hit bonus to the characters and defensive totals to monsters. Readers may find this 1976 Gygax optimization eerily similar to third edition Dungeons & Dragons combat, as if he had leapfrogged THAC0 entirely.

But Gygax apparently did not think this optimization belonged in first edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Instead, we find in Appendix E of the Dungeon Masters Guide (1979) a different sort of dungeon master cheat sheet for monster attacks with a column listing values needed "To Hit A.C. 0." This is usually taken as the first real use of the concept of THAC0 in official Dungeons & Dragons material, even if it does not consolidate the acronym. But note that calculating THAC0 for monsters in first edition AD&D is simpler than it is for players, given that monsters do not go up in level. Characters required something more complicated, as THAC0 would depend on weapons and other factors: the closest that character sheets of the era get to recording THAC0 is a rather more complex chart for pre-computed "to hit armor class" ranges of values - one that would still require frequent updates.


Even though Advanced Dungeons & Dragons did not initially embrace THAC0, the fan community kept it alive. In Alarums #60 (July 1980), we can find Scott Turner describing a variant he uses with "no big charts, no messy tables or calculations, just one simple addition: Base to Hit = THAC0 - AC," where he envisions a standard initial THAC0 of 20. Proposals like these kept THAC0 in the public eye, and eventually, TSR elevated THAC0 to a linchpin of the Dungeons & Dragons system... at least until third edition came along, though perhaps even its combat system has its prefigurement in the extraordinary creative energy of the 1970s.

Nowhere is that energy on better display than in the pages of Alarums & Excursions. Incidentally, this year marks the fortieth anniversary of the first publication of Alarums & Excursions. It is nearly impossible to overestimate the number of innovations that debuted in its pages; for example, I have previously discussed the appearance of dice notation in its very first issue. Amazingly, Alarums & Excursions continues to this day, still under the benevolent oversight of Lee Gold.

The Samurai in D&D, via Bruce Sterling

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Oriental adventures become a part of Dungeons & Dragons long before TSR released a book by that name. The creativity of the vibrant fan community expanded the game far faster than its designers could, and sometimes, when you find out who the fans are, their creativity is unsurprising. One early version of the Samurai class is of particular note because of its designer: science-fiction author Bruce Sterling, whose Samurai rules went public shortly after he published his first novel, Involution Ocean.

Bruce Sterling's version of the Samurai was published in the fanzine Alarums & Excursions #32 early in 1978, as a submission by regular contributor Sean Summers, who had long gamed in Sterling's "Shang" campaign in Austin, Texas. Over time, Summers played two different Samurai characters in Shang, as well as a Ninja. In Alarums #41, Summers narrated a pivotal event in Sterling's world, a tale he calls "A Ninja Wedding," and followed this with periodic updates on its events in later issues (as in #44). If you want to play by Sterling's original Samurai rules, here they are:


The idea of playing as a samurai had a long pedigree in adventure games by this point. The popularity of samurai in films made them an occasional subject of interest to the wargaming community even before the dawn of role-playing games. The creators of Dungeons & Dragons knew the Japanese traditions of arms: Gary Gygax wrote an article about "Medieval Japan" in Domesday Book #6 (1970) which was "concerned primarily with the Samurai," detailing their weapons and armor as an initial path to simulating samurai in a wargames -- such as his current project, medieval miniatures rules that would eventually become the game Chainmail (1971). The crude illustration of a samurai at the top of this post accompanied that 1970 article.

The 1974 edition of Dungeons & Dragons, although it borrowed liberally from the medieval world, contained virtually nothing by way of Japanese setting elements. Early fans quickly developed additions incorporating trappings of their personal favorite genres, and the enormous popularity of James Clavell's Shogun (1975) helped to shift the focus to Japan, and to samurai in particular. When TSR brought the wargame Chainmail back into print with a third edition in 1975, they added some rules for samurai  to its section on the historical characteristics of troops.

Lee Gold of Los Angeles, the founder and editor of Alarums & Excursions, spent some months in the second half of 1975 in Tokyo. There she found an English-language book on ninjutsu called The Art of Invisibility which inspired her to sketch a Ninja character class in the final Alarums of the year:


Around the same time, the Blackmoor supplement to Dungeons & Dragons introduced the Monk character class, a creation of Brian Blume's which provided an official means of incorporating certain "Eastern" ideas into the game  -- including the dreaded "Quivering Palm" attack. Americans at the time knew such cultures largely through the filter of the television show Kung-fu (which aired from 1972 to 1975) and the films of Bruce Lee, also products of the period.

Predictably, many fans rejected the "official" vision of the Monk, and counterproposed with a variety of similar classes: for example, New York fans Greg Costikyan and Ben Grossman had already implemented a Martial Artist class for local games, but the arrival of Blackmoor encouraged them to publish theirs in the fanzine Haven Herald. Among other things, the Costikyan rules restricted the Martial Artist to the use of specific martial arts weapons from Japan as a requirement for remaining Lawful. Simulating the martial arts also caught the attention that year of another budding designer: Carl Smith, later of TSR and Pacesetter, distributed a standalone tactical combat game Martial Arts under his Adversary Games label.


Probably the earliest rules published explicitly as a Samurai class for Dungeons & Dragons appeared in the Manual of Aurania, which became available late in the spring of 1976 -- another product of Los Angeles fans. By the fall, TSR had published in the third issue of The Dragon its own version of the Samurai class, as a subclass of Fighter, in a piece by Mike Childers. But the fan community wasn't going to let TSR have the final say in the matter.

By the time Bruce Sterling incorporated Samurai into his campaign, around 1977, there were thus already precedents to draw upon, but Summers tells us that Sterling's are "by far the best" rules available at the time. Efforts didn't stop there: in fact, the following year an entire Japanese-themed role-playing game entered the market: Tyr's Bushido (later reprinted by Fantasy Games Unlimited). No less an authority than Dave Arneson was approached by the Chaosium to write a game called Samurai in 1978, though sadly the project never came to fruition. TSR revisited the Samurai class in The Dragon #49 (as an overpowered non-player character only) and then most famously in Oriental Adventures (1985).

As 2015 draws to a close, the story of Bruce Sterling's Samurai class reminds us once again how Alarums & Excursions, now enjoying its fortieth anniversary year of consistent publication, provides us with an extraordinary window into the dawn of the hobby. Without its record, many gems like this would surely be lost to posterity. It also provides us another data point showing the role Dungeons & Dragons played in the lives of creative people in the 1970s, even those just starting out in their careers. Summers thoughtfully prods readers to purchase a copy of Sterling's debut book Involution Ocean, as "he could use another royalty check."

A Precursor to the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement

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Chainmail (1971) is correctly regarded as the first commercially-available fantasy wargame system. The Fantasy Supplement that Gary Gygax and Jeff Perren tacked on to the end of Chainmail inspired Dave Arneson as he created the Blackmoor setting, and formed the basis for the original set of monsters and spells underlying Dungeons & Dragons. Something has been forgotten, however, in the forty-five years since Chainmail was published. Chainmail itself drew on a two-page set of rules developed for a late 1970 game run by the New England Wargamers Association (NEWA), which were designed by one Leonard Patt. Patt’s system shows us the first fantasy game with heroes, dragons, orcs, ents, and wizards who cast fireballs at enemies, though his contribution today goes entirely unacknowledged. The picture above shows this system in play at a Miniature Figure Collectors of America convention in October 1970 representing the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, a demonstration that won a “Best in Show” award.

[Updated: Now read Jon's conversation with Len Patt about these rules!]

I was aware of the existence of Patt’s game when I wrote Playing at the World; in fact, I speculated in a footnote that, “It is certainly possible that news of the positive reception of NEWA’s Tolkien game influenced Gygax’s decision to include fantasy rules in Chainmail” (pg44). Fantasy rules were, at the time, virtually unheard of. But until now, I had erroneously supposed that NEWA “opted not to publish their system,” when in fact it simply appeared in a place I hadn’t yet been able to unearth.

Patt's rules appeared in the NEWA magazine The Courier, which would briefly merge with TSR's Little Wars later in the 1970s. Because early issues of the Courier are quite scarce, this relationship has escaped the attention of posterity until now: even the New England Wargamers Association’s web timeline, which presents a somewhat overgenerous account of NEWA's role in the history of gaming, does not at the time of this writing mention Patt or the publication of his rules - though it does note the MFCA award for the Philadelphia convention game, which were widely written up in places like the MFCA’s Guidon:


The Rules

Like the Fantasy Supplement of Chainmail, Patt structured his fantasy rules as a modular adjunct that he “set up to fit within most Ancient or Medieval rules and were simply an addendum.” Broadly, the system in first edition Chainmail reflects an expansion and an edit of the Patt rules. Patt covers Wizards, Heroes, Antiheroes, dragons, ents, and orcs; he also alludes to dwarves, elves, hobbits, and trolls. Chainmail significantly expands this list, as Chainmail considers a scope of fantasy simulation beyond that of Tolkien.

Nonetheless, in the overlapping components of the system, we find many elements in Chainmail that unmistakably derive from Patt. Patt’s naming of his fighter units as “Heroes” and “Antiheroes” alone should immediately alert us to a potential influence on Chainmail. While Patt does not include the “Super-Hero” of Chainmail, intriguingly he does say of Heroes that “they had fighting power that approached that of supermen,” which may have influenced the later naming of the rank above them. Patt explains of Heroes and Antiheroes that “they are the last man to be killed in any melee;” Chainmailsimilarly says of them that “they are the last figure in a unit that will be killed by regular missile fire or melee.” Most strikingly, however, Patt’s rules contain a system that is a clear precursor to the hit point mechanic of Chainmail. Patt’s Heroes are equivalent to 5 men, and “hits against them are not cumulative” so “it takes a melee kill by the enemy of 10 points [i.e. 5 men] in one melee throw” to kill them. Famously, in Chainmail a Hero fights as four men, so they are slightly less powerful than their ancestors in Patt. The precedent that hits against Heroes must be “not cumulative” and occur in the same round is followed by Chainmail; in Chainmail “four simultaneous kills must be scored against Heroes (or Anti-Heroes) to eliminate them. Otherwise, there is no effect upon them.” Elsewhere in Chainmail, we see the term “cumulative” hits used as an antonym for “simultaneous” hits.

Chaimail’s Wizards, the precursor to the Magic-user class of Dungeons & Dragons, draw significantly on Patt’s rules as well. Where in Chainmail Wizards “are themselves impervious to normal missile weapons,” in Patt, “Wizards cannot be killed by missile fire.” But by far Chainmail's most historically-significant borrowing from Patt is how Wizards “can cast a fire ball.” Fireball, which is indeed given as “fire ball” in first edition Chainmail, is one of the signature mechanisms of fantasy gaming, and to find it articulated prior to Chainmail is a stunning revelation. As in Chainmail, the “fire ball” of Patt is a burst effect which a Wizard casts at up to a distance of 24” in game; the burst area of effect is however an inch larger in Chainmail than in Patt. And as they later would in Chainmail, Heroes and Anti-heroes get a saving throw against a fireball in Patt: they “are saved by a throw of 5 or 6.” While saving throws were not an uncommon element in games of the time, the notion that making a saving throw against spells originated prior to Chainmail is also a significant revision to our historical understanding. Chainmail would dramatically expand the capabilities of Wizards, in its first edition adding a “lightning bolt” as a damage spell and eight utility spells, but “fire ball” is not altered in any significant particular from how it appears in Patt.

We can find also various relationships between the language on monsters in Patt and Chainmail. We see combat against monsters resolved by rolling two six-sided dice: after prospective dragon-slayers fire missile weapons at their target they “cast two dice,” on which “a roll of 11 or 12 will kill the dragon”; whereas in Chainmail, arrow fire at a dragon “kills it on a two dice roll of 10 or better.” But one of the starkest points of appropriation from Patt in the Chainmail rules is in how fireballs interact with dragons. In both systems, dragons do not roll a saving throw against the spell. In Patt, “a dragon hit by a fire ball is driven away and will not attack the wizard’s side for one turn.” In Chainmail, the table for fireball effects reads for the dragon: “drives dragon back 1 move.” It is by looking at these details, where beyond the mere presence in Patt of dragons and Wizards who cast fireballs, we have this “driving” language and the single turn penalty, that we see commonalities far too specific to be a coincidence: it must be a direct borrowing.

With this introduction on the linkage of Chainmail to Patt, take a look for yourself at his original two page rules from the Courier:


Readers may detect other, subtler points of connection between Patt and Chainmail. For example, the orcs depicted in Patt are divided into two groups, the Orcs of the Red Eye and the Orcs of the White Hand. Chainmail has five groups listed, of which those two appear as the first and fourth group; Chainmail calls the former the “Orcs of the (Red) Eye,” where that parenthetical tentativeness perhaps reflects lukewarm adoption of Patt’s nomenclature. Patt explains that “Orcs were basically very obnoxious and disagreeable even to each other” and thus when they “approach within four inches of one another, 1 die is thrown to see how they react.” On a roll of 1, the orcs will fall on each other. In Chainmail, “if Orcs of different kinds approach within a charge move of each other, and they are not meleed by the enemy, they will attack each other unless a score of 4 or better is rolled on an ‘obedience die.’” The common “approach within” terminology there shows vestiges of Patt’s original language. I will leave finding further chestnuts along these lines as an exercise to the reader: but detectives should remember that Chainmail differed substantially in its first, second and third editions, and thus many mechanisms in the grey-covered third edition, most notoriously “spell complexity,” did not manifest in the earliest form of the system, where the borrowing from Patt is clearest.

Recognizing Leonard Patt

It thus appears that we have owed an unacknowledged debt to an obscure author for decades – so who was he? Leonard Patt was a miniature wargamer affiliated with the New England Wargamers Association who wrote largely about ancient rules: in 1970, he also penned an article for the Courier on the “Arms & Equipment of the Roman Soldier.” However, Patt seems to have had only a fleeting interest in wargames, as his name drops out of fanzines of the time within a year. Patt, should he still be with us, would surely be unaware of how Chainmail followed his work, let alone the profound influence that concepts like “fire ball” and saving versus spells have had on numberless games over the decades that followed.

If these rules were so obscure it took me this long to find them, how do we know for sure that the authors of Chainmail saw them, and saw them during the time Chainmail was in development? Because they subscribed to that newsletter and even contributed to it. Handily, the very issue of the Courier carrying these fantasy rules also contains an article by S. Manganiello on “French Uniforms of the Seven Years War” which, in the following issue of the Courier, Jeff Perren attacks in a letter. This proves that at least one of the two authors of Chainmail received and studied the very issue of the Courier containing these fantasy rules at the time, and surely could have shared it with his co-designer. Although these rules came out not long before Chainmail, we know from Gygax’s own account that the Fantasy Supplement was a last-minute addition to Chainmail: he later called it an “afterthought.”

In the early, pre-commercial days of miniature wargaming, the environment was very loose and collaborative, and these kinds of borrowings were not uncommon - but attribution was still an assumed courtesy. Gary Gygax has something of a reputation for adapting and expanding on the work of the gaming community without always attributing his original sources. The case of the Thief class is probably the most famous: the first draft of Gary’s rules do note their debt to the Aero Hobbies crowd, but as the published version of the rules in Greyhawk (1975) did not, the obligation of the Thief rules to Gary Switzer and the others at Aero Hobbies long went unacknowledged. Regarding Chainmail, Gary in late interviews says nothing to suggest that concepts like fireball were not of his own invention; Patt’s rules compel us to reevaluate those claims. Nonetheless, we must acknowledge that Gary had a singular gift for streamlining, augmenting and popularizing rules originally devised by others: certainly we wouldn’t say that Patt’s original rules could have inspired Blackmoor, and thus Dungeons & Dragons, without Gary’s magic touch and the elaboration we find in the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement.

But if you ever vanquished an enemy with a fireball in Dungeons & Dragons, or Magic: the Gathering, or Dragon Age, and especially if you ever made a saving throw against a fireball, thank Leonard Patt!

Video Episode on Original D&D

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Back in 2014, I expressed my intention to celebrate the birthday of Dungeons & Dragons on the last Sunday of January: since it happened to be January 26th, that is commonly given as the anniversary. But in 2016, it falls on the final day of the month, and to honor the occasion, today I'm inaugurating a new Playing at the World video series. This first episode is focused on the original Dungeons & Dragons boxed set; I am joined today by my friend and fellow collector Bill Meinhardt, who graciously provides his hospitality, expertise, and amazing collectibles. Even if you're not in the market for the physical boxes, you can still experience the game, as Wizards recently released PDFs of their eighth printing of the original Dungeons & Dragons books - on January 26th, it turns out.

You can see the video on my YouTube channel here: [Playing at the World Episode #1]

A Conversation with Len Patt

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Following the revelations published two weeks ago here about a set of 1970 fantasy wargame rules that exerted a clear influence on the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement, one burning question was on everyone's mind: who is Leonard Patt? He can be seen in the picture above in an issue of the Courier from 1970, gaming with fellow members of the New England Wargamers Association. Thanks to the almost frighteningly quick work of Internet detectives (especially Casey Harmon and David L. Johnson), the community ascertained that Len Patt is alive today and living in Seattle. I recently had the opportunity to ask him a few questions about his sudden historical prominence.

Patt was a junior at Northeastern University in Boston, studying chemistry, when he wrote these fantasy rules. He grew up just south of Boston in nearby Weymouth, and fell in with the New England Wargamers Association while in college. Previously, in high school, he remembers playing Risk and Stratego, but not much more by way of wargames. He has since gone on to a career in chemistry, having left wargames behind in his college days.

So how did he feel, when he learned of the recent news that his fantasy wargame rules had helped inspire Chainmail and thus Dungeons & Dragons?

“I was just amazed, I had totally forgotten that I had done it," Patt replies. "Those memory cells had been completed wiped out by advanced organic chemistry.” When it comes to the Courier, the paper containing the fantasy rules, Patt admits, “I had completely forgotten even about that little journal.” He thinks it unlikely that he attended the Philadelphia MFCA convention personally where the game was played in 1970, given his responsibilities at school.

Wargaming may not have been his true calling. A 1969 issue of the Courier announced a tongue-in-cheek  "Lenny Patt Award" to be bestowed twice yearly to a NEWA member "who consistently shows much tactical ability and knowledge of rules while never winning." His friend Bruce Weeks, in presenting this prestigious distinction to Patt as its first recipient, explained that "in the past three years has Lenny not only not won any games, he has not even come close to getting a draw." Asked if remembers being particularly unsuccessful as a wargame player, Patt ruefully replies, "I don't know, but I believe it." Patt did redeem himself in 1970, when evidence of his victories can be found in the pages of the Courier.

Upon graduating from Northeastern in 1971, Patt left Boston to continue his studies in Arizona. “That was the last time I did any wargaming," he recalls. He never played Dungeons & Dragons or any of the games it inspired during their peak in the 1980s. He remembers wargaming largely as a way of exploring history, so we shouldn't be surprised that he has spent many years as a civil war reenactor. And Patt seems to have passed this interest on to the next generation: his oldest son is a reenactor as well, while his youngest son is an enthusiastic Warhammer player.

Will this newfound notoriety bring Len Patt back into the games community? He assures us, “I have very little interest in starting up wargaming again.” So it is unlikely he would accept an invitation to attend a convention and speak as the "father of the fireball," unless of course it were an all-expenses paid trip with a stipend. Today, he doesn't hold on to many mementos from those days apart from some Napoleonic miniatures in his attic, which he remembers commanding under the old Column, Line and Square rules. But Patt does admit that when he gets bored, he's not above playing a little Warhammer 40K on his computer.

We expect events that turn out to be important later would have been memorable at the time they occurred - but history often defies our expectations. Like many influential occurrences at the dawn of the gaming hobby, the invention of Patt's fantasy wargaming rules was quickly forgotten, by the people it influenced and even by Patt himself. The fact that this connection has gone unnoticed for nearly half a century is a stark reminder of the fallibility of memory and the urgent need to preserve, catalog and study the rapidly-vanishing archival material of the era, which surely will reveal many more such secrets in the fullness of time.

How Mana Became a Game Mechanic

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Together with University of Hawai'i anthropologist Alex Golub, I wrote an essay about the origins of "mana" in tabletop and computer games. Alex previously distilled our work into a popular blog post about this, but people interested in the details of early concepts of spell points and how they came to be attached to the idea of mana will find more information in the academic version. Pioneers here included Greg Costikyan, Steve Perrin, Isaac Bonewits, Richard Garfield and many others.

Our essay "How Mana Left the Pacific and Became a Video Game Mechanic" appears in the newly-published anthology New Mana: Transformations of a Classic Concept in Pacific Languages and Cultures (ANU Press), which you can acquire in print versions or download online here: New Mana.

The D&D Syndicated Radio Show Pilot

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In the early 1980s, at the height of the Dungeons & Dragons fad, TSR heavily promoted the game in mainstream media. This went far beyond mere advertisements: they developed dramatic renditions of D&D as media properties. The most famous result was the Saturday morning cartoon show, though we know of many other projects that never quite made it into production, such as the undeveloped feature film. We must now add to that category a new entry: a syndicated radio program. Unlike the cartoon show or the movie, the planned radio series depicted the actual play of a D&D session rather than dramatizing a loosely-related story: in that respect, it is a long-lost ancestor of contemporary media sensations like Critical Role or Acquisitions Inc. Today, as a special "audio" edition of Playing at the World, we take a listen to the original pilot for the radio show, and consider its relevance to the game spectatorship culture of today.

See the D&D Draft at the Gen Con Museum

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In celebration of its fiftieth anniversary, Gen Con will be staging a museum next month in Indianapolis. The museum will pay homage to Gen Con by showing how the gaming hobby has grown over the past half century from its humble origins to dominate the world. And there's no better way to demonstrate that than with a treasure trove of gaming history. Although four-day tickets for Gen Con are now sold out, if you are lucky enough to have a badge, do drop by the museum. You will be able to see some amazing artifacts like this: a first draft of Dungeons & Dragons.

On the gridiron of  Lucas Oil Field at Gen Con, you will be able to walk through a replica facade of the portico of the Horticultural Hall, just like the one above. Just in case you didn't catch our party there in March. Beyond it, a scale floorplan of the Hall houses the museum displays. But the museum is about much more than just Dungeons & Dragons. It is separated into six eras that reflect Gen Con's remarkable pedigree.
  • It begins with an Era of Wargames, when Gen Con attendees would play the games of Avalon Hill and SPI alongside Wells's Little Wars and Calhamer's Diplomacy; that era concludes with the beginning of dungeon adventures in Blackmoor. Gary Gygax's convention grew up over these years from a one-day shot in the dark into an annual tradition attracting gamers from around the nation.
  • This was followed by the Era of Dragons, where Dungeons & Dragons took the convention by storm and utterly transformed the gaming industry by inspiring the genre of role-playing games. The rising tide of D&D also lifted the Chaosium, Steve Jackson Games, the Judges Guild, and numerous other publishers who thronged to Gen Con. 
  • When the D&D fad crested, it ushered in an Era of Maturity. TSR still ran the convention, but now a diverse set of publishers drove the industry forward. In this era, White Wolf started as a fanzine project and grew into the publisher of Vampire. Innovative RPGs like Shadowrun, Ars Magica, and GURPS shared floor space with diehard wargamers devoted to Advanced Squad Leader.
  • Gen Con, and the industry, would be rocked a second time when Magic: the Gathering debuted at the convention, bringing about a golden age we can only call the Era of Magic. The monumental success of collectible card games enabled Wizards of the Coast to purchase TSR, and with it Gen Con. Wizards CEO Peter Adkison drove the company towards a new edition of D&D that captivated the industry with its Open Gaming License. This era saw Euro games like Settlers of Catan invade Gen Con and lure many gamers back to board games.
  • After Wizards sold Gen Con to Adkison, the convention relocated to Indianapolis: what came next was a time of independence for the convention, an Era of Indie. Thanks to the Internet, new games could develop in cooperative online forums, and reach the world through crowd funding. It was the time of Pathfinder, of small-press games that pushed the boundaries of role playing, and of "old school" retroclones that tried to recapture the spirit of the 1970s. The board gaming renaissance flourished in this era with titles like Dominion, Ticket to Ride, and Agricola.
  • As electronic games grow ever more popular, you might think the tabletop hobby would shrink -- but instead it has exploded. Gen Con has experienced unprecedented growth in the current age, the Era of Expansion. Attendance doubled between 2010 and 2015, and will reach unprecedented heights for the fiftieth anniversary. This era takes in things that are hot off the presses, from 5th Ed D&D to games that will be debuting this year.
  • There will be some great Gen Con memorabilia to see as well.
We offering tours - though again, I gather tickets are already a bit hard to come by. You could catch a tour with Bill Meinhardt, collector extraordinaire and provider of many of the museum's crucial artifacts. Or with Paul Stormberg, auctioneer to the stars, who will be bringing the old school to the Horticultural Hall at Gen Con with his Legends of Wargaming events. Or with a guy named Peter Adkison, tag-teaming up with his dad who has loaned the museum an amazing collection of Magic cards, including an Alpha, Beta, and Unlimited "Power 9" and early sealed boxes. Or with Frank Mentzer, D&D superstar, expert on games history, and fixture at Gen Con. Or with me. But even if you catch us "off duty" I'm sure any of us will be happy to tell you all about the amazing one-of-a-kind artifacts we have on loan from folks like Mike Carr, or Dave Megarry, or Jonathan Tweet, or Mike Mearls, as well from the private stashes of the tour guides.

The museum will complement a series of panels on the history of games and Gen Con, which will be populated by a surprisingly similar cast of characters. I'll be talking about some of those, and maybe some of the other cool artifacts to expect from the museum, in the weeks leading up to the Con. Take some time to soak in Gen Con's heritage, and imagine what it might be like in another fifty years.

The Dalluhn Manuscript and CONTAX

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The Dalluhn Manuscript, a document that preserves early draft text of Dungeons & Dragons, has long defied any attempts at precise identification. In no small part this is because of its unsigned artwork, like this section title page for "Before Setting Out For Fame and Fortune," which has not been convincingly attributed to any of the artists who worked on D&D. Thanks to the discovery of still earlier material like the Mornard Fragments, and now the Guidon D&D first draft, we can show various ways that the text of Dalluhn obviously derived from prior D&D texts. But we haven't had any similar breakthrough with the art... or hey wait, isn't that a familiar face in the upper left hand corner of that letterhead? Who or what is CONTAX?

CONTAX was a game club. Fortunately, most clubs of the era wrote in to national fanzines to advertise for new members, and CONTAX was no exception. We can find the following in The Gamesletter in the spring of 1973:


This tells us that Chuck Monson of Duluth spoke for CONTAX, and that his group was closely associated with the Blackmoor campaign in the Twin Cities. Monson's connection to Blackmoor would not be a revelation to anyone familiar with Arneson's First Fantasy Campaign, which details (p15) how "a great peasant revolt wiped out Monson," and indeed Arneson pinpoints the "City of the Gods (located in the Desert South of Monson's old place)." Most contemporary accounts of the MMSA and Blackmoor indicate that there was participation from Duluth; for example, Gamer's Guide #40 (summer 1973) explains that "the MMSA has about 35 members of which about 20 are 'full-time' active members, with individual members residing in Duluth, Rochester and Winona who come up for a monthly meeting of all the clubs." And of course "all the clubs in the Association also participate in the inter-club Fantasy (Sword and Sorcery) simulation being run in conjunction with Gary Gygax's group in Lake Geneva."

Monson related some of the local activities in Duluth to the ever-reliable Great Plains Game Players Newsletter, writing in the sixth issue, at the beginning of 1974, that his club engaged in "a considerable amount of what you seem to term 'speculative' gaming, i.e. science fiction/fantasy," or "science fantasy" as he later puts it. His letter doesn't say anything about Blackmoor - perhaps he'd dropped out of the campaign by this point - but he notes that "we have not yet devised a cohesive schema of our fantasy world, but I am encouraging them to work in that area."

Mention of a fantasy world must remind us of another one of the outstanding problems of the Dalluhn Manuscript: that the text does not allude to Greyhawk, or Blackmoor, but instead describes a setting where there are cities called Cylorn, Lalkel, and Nadirh. Even the "Before Setting Out for Fame and Fortune" image above has signposts directing you to the "Emwood" or the "Lord of Arn." That these place names appear, instead of those readily familiar from the campaign settings of D&D's creators, has been a perennial source of doubt about the provenance of the Dalluhn Manuscript. Whose fantasy world did those names come from?

Putting an image into your club's letterhead suggests you have an intimate connection to it; effectively, it serves as an icon for your group. Given we know the full picture contains those place names, ostensibly from someone's fantasy campaign, we have to ask: would a club put such a piece campaign art into its letterhead if it were someone else's? Note as well that the letters "UMD" and "CONTAX" appear in the letterhead in the the "Old English" font (probably from a Letreset transfer): the same font used to spell out "Before Setting Out For Fame and Fortune" in the Dalluhn image. Arneson's Twin Cities group did not use Letresets for display typefaces; they instead preferred to draw them by hand.

This new link will not of course resolve every question about the Dalluhn Manuscript. For one thing, we know from the placement of the illustrations that they could be later additions to the document: that the text could have been typed earlier by a separate party. Dating its production has always been a further challenge, and while this letter sheds some welcome light on the production of the images, it can only tell us so much. We can surmise that the "UMD" in that letterhead stands for the University of Minnesota at Duluth, which must have had been home to CONTAX at the time. This is easily verified by a glance at the college newspaper, the Stateman, which has a profile on CONTAX in the February 27, 1975 issue, accompanied by a picture of Monson:


The article identifies CONTAX as "one of the newer clubs at UMD," a vague claim which could imply the club joined up with the university just weeks before, or as early as the end of 1974, say, but probably not much earlier than that. Since the letterhead explicitly mentions UMD, it surely dates from after the transition. However, given that CONTAX had been involved in the Blackmoor campaign since its formation, and indeed that was the group's original and principle activity, both this image and the Dalluhn Manuscript itself could have been circulating in the club as far back as 1973. Since Monson attests his group lacked a "cohesive schema" for its fantasy world at the beginning 1974, perhaps that's unlikely. But this letterhead at least gives us a firm "no later than," our first concrete evidence that the Dalluhn images existed in the mid 1970s.

When we combine that with evidence showing that Dalluhn was a linear descendant of Guidon D&D, we are at least honing in a date. For that, we have a number of direct textual proofs, perhaps none more striking than the fact that Dalluhn's "Dervishes" description is retyped almost verbatim from GD&D - except that it skips page 56 of GD&D, and thus bleeds into the entry on orcs that carries over from that page. It could have been an accident, or perhaps the typist's copy of GD&D was missing one or more pages. It's a mistake someone could only make working from these very pages, and only someone unfamiliar enough with the text not to catch it:


A lot of time and energy has been spent in the past few years cycling through the list of usual suspects to establish who in the Twin Cities might have typed and illustrated the Dalluhn Manuscript. There are clear ties in its text to systems used by Arneson, but not Gygax, so it must at least derive from a Twin Cities antecedent. But the umbrella of the MMSA was large, stretching down to remote groups in places like Duluth, where playtesters could have taken pre-publication material and adapted it into a cohesive schema for their own fantasy world. From there, it would furthermore be easy for us to put such a document into MAR Barker's hands: members of CONTAX mention making the 2.5 hour trek up to visit La Belle Alliance, later the Little Tin Soldier Shoppe, a Minneapolis store that Barker frequented (as he noted in Wargamer's Newsletter #149).

[And to answer an inevitable question, Mr. Greg Knutson was a member of CONTAX who seems to have been more interested in traditional wargames than the fantasy stuff. He was just using the club's letterhead here, this does not make him a likely accomplice in the development of the Dalluhn Manuscript, except in so far as members of CONTAX are now "persons of interest" in any ongoing investigation.]

The Gin and Pygmalion, In and Out of Blackmoor

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This short piece "In Search of Pygmalion" from October 1974 has no byline, but it was written by Dave Arneson. It tells of an evil magician named "the GIN of Sailik" who spirits away the immortal Pygmalion. The zine it appears in, the Bel-Ran Rumormonger, was the in-character journal of Scott Rich's "Midgard Limited" game, where players would contribute background on their sections of the campaign world. As the story of the lascivious Gin and the ensorcelled Pygmalion may be familiar to fans of the Blackmoor setting, this piece provides a striking illustration of how Arneson recycled elements across the games that he played, and moreover of how hard it can be to impose firm boundaries around which game events were and were not components of a campaign like Blackmoor.

The story of Pygmalion is familiar to readers of the First Fantasy Campaign from the "Infamous Characters" subsection about Gin of Salik, which ends with the following cryptic paragraph:


The parenthetical reference to the "DB" above alerts readers to consult the legendary Domesday Book of the Castle & Crusade Society for more, and indeed the back story of Gin can be found there--but only because the DB had at the time become the venue where reports from Tom Webster's Atlantis campaign were posted. That game imagined a Carthaginian invasion of the isle of Atlantis and at the end of the fifth century BCE. Its activities stretched back at least to the beginning of 1970; Arneson, Gygax, and other members of the C&CS had a hand in it, just as Webster in turn participated in Arneson's Napoleonic Simulation Campaign (playing as the Native Americans). In an Atlantis campaign report, from November 1970, from we can find a reference to Dave Arneson's Trecht faction on a mist-shrouded island off Atlantis, and in particular his "High Hefner" who leads "the followers of the pygmalion."


Within the framework of the IFW, Webster had formed an Ancients Society, an older sibling of the more famous Castle & Crusade Society. Domesday Book #9 posed to the membership the question of whether the C&CS should merge with the Ancients Society. As of the next issue, the Domesday Book began to carry some of Ancients Society content, including a "final issue" of the Ancient Society Report dated April 30, 1971 and the following rather curious letter. It details the relationship between the godlike Pygmalion and a magician, the Gin of Kralc (in its first appearance misspelled as "Karlc"), who wanted her all to himself. Although it appears under Tom Webster's name, the letter is written by "the servant of the Pygmallion," and we should understand this as an in-game background piece by Arneson which Webster forwarded (no doubt after some editing) to the Domesday Book.


Publication of the Domesday Book had become sluggish by 1971, and issue #10 didn't reach the membership until the summer. But the material it collects, and the earlier Ancients Society dispatches, show that prior to the "medieval Braunstein" that kickstarted Blackmoor, Arneson was playing in something we should probably deem a fantastic ancient wargame campaign. The material he generated for that campaign detached from it, and could readily adapt to other campaigns, like Midgard Limited or Blackmoor itself.

By the time Arneson began putting the "Infamous Characters" piece into the form we find it in the First Fantasy Campaign, the story of the Gin and Pygmalion had passed through a succession of iterations in different campaigns. This above all cautions us that we should be careful when viewing texts like the FFC as repositories of information that was exclusive, or even original, to the activities we would usually identify as the Blackmoor campaign; the Gin existed before we start reading about the Black Moors, and the whole cult of Pygmalion is only loosely tied to that setting. Their story is not a story that played out in some Blackmoor session. Nor was this the sole piece Arneson wrote for the Midgard Limited campaign that might subvert our thinking about the nature of Blackmoor; this other 1974 piece provides something of an alternative origin story for Blackmoor, and even an aside about Bleakwood, a favorite setting of Arneson's that year.


[P.S. The identity of the Gin of Salik has been a matter of some speculation over the years. The name "Kralc" has its own associations in the period, with a certain Jim Clark; we even see a "Colonel von Kralc" in the first Braunstein. In its original form as "Gin of Kralc," the connection to Jim Clark would be as clear as Greg Scott's to the "Egg of Coot," which similarly had, by 1974, drifted into the less recognizable "Ogg of Ott."]

Vintage Ad: Why Women Don't Play Wargames

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This late-1970s variant on one of the earliest Dungeons & Dragon advertisements repeats some conventional wisdom of the day about female participation in the gaming community. But as the text suggests, D&D had the potential to be "a game which women play and enjoy equally with men."Women did take up D&D in numbers very different from prior self-identified wargames, though their integration into the community faced its share of challenges.

This advertisement could be found in the wild as a full-page in Fantastic Stories magazine, June 1977. TSR then actively targeted not just gamers but fans of fantasy fiction--by some estimates, about a third of whom at the time were women.

Spellcasting before D&D in Midgard

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From the summer of 1971, this excerpt shows the initial Wizard system developed for a game called Midgard, as disseminated through the seventh issue of Hartley Patterson's original Midgard fanzine. This issue dates a little after the release of first edition Chainmail, and a little before the additions to the Wizard rules Gygax would write up at the end of the year for the International Wargamer which divided Chainmail Wizards into level-like ranks. It is noteworthy for several historical reasons, not least for ostensibly being the earliest spell-point system.

Years ago when I put together Playing at the World we had only fragmentary direct evidence from the various campaigns in the Midgard family. Today, we can do a bit better. As the first issue of Patterson's Midgard fanzine came out in January 1971, a couple months before Chainmail, the game is of some interest to historians of fantasy gaming. There is a great deal to unpack just from this one page from seven months later in August.

First, the original Midgard magic system was based on spell points, and given how few fantasy rules had appeared to date, there is little reason to hope we will find an earlier game that used them. Wizards in Midgard have a resource called "endurance points" which serves as a reserve of magical energy: casting a spell expends a number of endurance points, as does defending against spells cast by enemy wizards. Wizards automatically recharge a certain amount each year (years go quickly in Midgard I), a total which may be augmented by finding magical items. Chainmail, published just a few months earlier, granted Wizards the ability to throw arcane missiles, either a "fire ball" or "lightening bolt," and to cast six utility spells, ranging from Phantasmal Forces through to Conjuration of an Elemental -- but it gave no indication of how often spells could be cast.* That would be rectified in Gygax's "Chainmail Additions," which limits the number of spells Wizards can cast each game by sorting Wizards into "classes".


Which brings us to the second interesting element of the Midgard system: Wizards had a rating name and number, on a scale from 1 to 6 starting with the lowest "Magician" and working up through "Warlock" before hitting the middle rank of "Wizard." This is striking in light of the International Wargamer wizard classes for Chainmail that would appear a few months later: they too have the lowest ranks as "Magician" then "Warlock" below "Wizard", though the "Chainmail Additions" establish only four such classes instead of six.

Note that neither the Chainmail nor the Midgard system here has a concept of advancing in class or rating by accumulating experience in the game world. Midgard Wizards could gain additional endurance points through adventuring by finding artifacts, but that did not boost their rating. This system did have a charming and clearly Tolkien-inspired concept that when Wizards die, they are reincarnated and that their rating randomly goes up or down then -- Gandalf the Grey was obviously among the fortunate ones who returned in a more powerful incarnation. Patterson would gloss that he was "a bit dubious about arbitrarily changing a Wizard's rating," and solicited "a better method, perhaps related to the Wizard's previous record." While we shouldn't read too much into such a high level remark, it does sound a bit closer to an experience system as we would see in Blackmoor.

Third, the Midgard spells are derived from Jack Vance -- though this does not mean that magic in Midgard was "Vancian" in the memorization sense familiar from D&D. What it does mean is that Vance's Dying Earth spells with names like the "Excellent Prismatic Spray" and "Phandaal's Mantle of Stealth" became part of the Midgard system way back in the summer of 1971. "Prismatic Spray" would not enter the D&D lexicon until Aronson's "Illusionist Additions" in The Dragon #1, five years later.


Fourth, in Midgard, a Wizard requires a certain rating in order to cast a spell. This concept was also missing from the first edition of Chainmail, but is just barely present in second edition Chainmail the following year, as the spell "Moving Terrain" is "only possible to a Wizard," not to the lower ranks. Since Chainmail did not provide campaign rules, it remained silent on another point that Midgard raised: the requirement that "a spell must be acquired and learned, most probably by stumbling on old manuscripts." The question of how Wizards learned spells only began to be addressed in D&D after the original game was released.

So is there a connection between the Midgard system and the "Chainmail Additions," or later developments towards D&D? It is probably best to view Midgard as a close cousin of D&D, experimenting with many similar concepts, in an open environment where ideas published through fanzines could exert soft influence that is difficult to measure. As Midgard was developed in the UK in 1971, it may seem so remote that a connection would be impossible -- yet it turns out the author of the Midgard Wizard rules was Seth McEvoy, of East Lansing, MI, who submitted them to Hartley Patterson's zine. It is not out of the question that word of these rules reached Lake Geneva, nor that Chainmail influenced Midgard itself. We know that members of Gygax's immediate circle heard tell of Midgard by 1972, in particular the American Midgard II system which retains and expands many the same concepts when it comes to Wizards:


In Midgard II, an innate power rating (IPR) had replaced the "rating" of Midgard I. Now, artifacts and lore found in the world do add to a Wizard's IPR; indeed, in Midgard II, even finding certain herbs would grant +1 to IPR. "Endurance points" are now called "energy points," which refresh on the faster scale of a week in Midgard II. By this point, there were 58 different Wizard spells to expend your energy points on, and Vance's "Excellent Prismatic Spray" was still one. Notably, Wizards in Midgard II could now summon elementals, in a system reminiscent of Chainmail -- but they could also summon various kinds of sprites, and even forge pacts with demons.

The existence of such a developed magic system in 1972 confronts with us with the stark reality that D&D was not alone on its trajectory, and that we have to understand its development in a broader context of parallel efforts at the time. And the energy points Wizards spent Midgard prefigured every mana bar in the fantasy computer games that would follow.

* [Len Patt's rules specified that a "fire ball" could be cast every other turn.]

D&D In the News (1976): Fazzle on the Ryth

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There was little mainstream press dedicated to Dungeons & Dragons before the calamitous summer of 1979, and virtually none prior to 1977. This particular article by Mike Duffy is from the Detroit Free Press, from August 17, 1976, and it introduces us to D&D through the legendary Ryth campaign conducted by the Metro Detroit Gamers. It does a good job of explaining how D&D captivated early fans: as one put it, "All you can think about is the game."

A few details not to miss:

Paul J. Wood's last name here is misspelled "Woods." The fellow shown behind him to the right is Mike Bartnikowski, legendary Gen Con auctioneer of the early days and editor of the Deck of Many Things fanzine, among other things. The two could also be spotted together again at the Avalon Hill booth at GenCon XI in 1978, say.


Duffy mentions the upcoming MDG onvention in late November or early December 1976: that would be WinterCon V, where famously Gary Gygax would run the Lost Caverns of Tsojconth tournament, later revised as module S4 (and retitled as "Tsojcanth"). The following year, MDG would host the Origins convention, which attracted a larger crowd than the Gen Con held a month later.

The Ryth campaign's chronicle was one of the earliest circulating D&D fanzines, as its first issue predates even the debut of Alarums & Excursions. It was by the summer of 1976 a campaign with no less than six dungeons run by different participants. Some enterprising soul took it upon themselves to scan the issues of Ryth and put them on line. However, the first page of that PDF isn't actually from the Ryth Chronicle, but instead from the March 1975 issue of the Yggdrasil Chronicle (#45), an MDG Diplomacy fanzine. As you can't really make out the city map of Rythlondar on the reverse page, I'll reproduce it here. Note that it differs in some particulars from the later map shown on page 56 of the PDF.


The name of Wood's character "Fazzle" will be familiar to fans of the Quest for the Fazzlewood (1978), an early solo tournament module for WinterCon VII designed by John van De Graaf, gamemaster of the Ryth campaign, with his wife Laurie. It was later republished as module O1. Bartnikowski, incidentally, played a cleric in Ryth named "Brother Bung."

This article dates from the heyday of OD&D, after the printing of the supplements but before the unveiling of Holmes Basic, so it is early enough that the term "role-playing game" hasn't quite caught on. We hear it only when Wood is "mixing his role-playing personal pronouns" and speaking from the perspective of his character. Instead the article contrasts this new-fangled "fantasy gaming" with traditional wargames.

Although Duffy does not spell "orc" as we would, you would be hard-pressed to find an earlier mainstream press mention of displacer beasts or umber hulks. Many early journalists had trouble comprehending the D&D game, but Duffy fares pretty well, especially in how he faithfully relates that the original published system was really just guidelines. As he summarizes, "Essentially, what you get is a rule book, and the players wing it from there -- modifying rules and adapting as they go along."
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