Six Principles for Old School Dungeon Masters

Art by Gilead

Six Principles for Old School Dungeon Masters

1) The most important thing a DM should ask the PCs, and repeatedly ask, is, “What do you do?” This question creates the atmosphere that makes D&D enjoyable for players, directing and redirecting the momentum toward their choices.

2) Descriptions of situations, NPCs, and scenarios should be concise, brief, and to the point. Unless the DM is a talented actor, dialogue should be reported rather than directly acted out. As dialogue progresses, a sort of magic happens, and characters naturally seem to converse with NPCs without the awkwardness of falsetto voices or fake accents.

3) If players have a request or idea, no matter how outlandish, the DM should provide the possibility for it, but they can adjust the statistical likelihood to make it almost impossible. For example, let’s imagine a player asks if their familiar, a cat, can tear out the throat of an evil necromancer after the party has fallen. A 1 in 20, or even a 1 in 100 chance, is unlikely, but the benefit of the dramatic tension is worth it. The inverse, the discouragement associated with shutting down the idea, is not worth it.

4) Whether the DM is using a module or creating one, the DM needs an “objective” third party to mediate between their role as DM and the players’ choices. This third party could be a description of a town, an NPC, an encounter, or a social scenario. To an extent, this third element adds concreteness to the world, moderating the whimsy of the DM and the tendentious nature of the players, creating something approaching an even playing field.

5) The DM should strategically adopt an antagonistic stance toward the players. This makes the encounters feel as though the stakes are high. However, the DM should never cheat; the players should never suspect the DM of putting a finger on the scales, as this might incentivize them to cheat as well. Instead, the DM should make it clear that they will use their resources honestly, with integrity, and to the best of their abilities within the reasonable constraints of the enemies' abilities and potential.

6) Finally, the DM should not retcon any awarded treasure or magical items. If a campaign becomes unbalanced due to a mistake, it is better to end the campaign than to retcon. Retconning something that provided the players with a sense of joy risks making future DMing sessions feel unreliable.

Review of Brian Murphy's, Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery (Pulp Hero Press, 2020)

On the way to inventing the fantasy subgenre of "sword and sorcery" (S&S), Robert E. Howard crafted the quasi-S&S hero, Solomon Kane, a brooding, puritanical demon hunter, bane of zombies, vampires, and other supernatural horrors. With the first Solomon Kane story, Howard mixed genres like a manic alchemist raiding his reagent cabinet: he combined historical fiction, swashbuckling adventure, and supernatural horror. Indeed, this modernistic hybridization of genre tabooed the first Solomon Kane story for many pulp editors. Consider the famous Solomon Kane rejection letter Howard received from the editor of Argosy: "In some ways this story is very good, and in others it is rotten [...]. It starts out as a period story, & finally changes into a combination of modern & medieval African jungle story. You can't mix periods & atmospheres like that. Stick to one or the other" (qtd. in The Robert E. Howard Guide [Skelos P, 2019] 68). This rejection didn't discourage Howard too much. Many speculate the rejection motivated Howard to submit the story to Weird Tales, the pulp where he would pioneer the S&S genre. Patrice Louinet, commenting on the Argosy rejection and subsequent acceptance by Weird Tales, speculates, "Howard had understood or at least felt that the strength of his character resides precisely in this total scorn of established conventions" (69).

It's an old story worth rehearsing briefly: Howard would go on write several Solomon Kane stories. Later, elements of the Kane stories, specifically the mixture of swashbuckling adventure with supernaturalism, would be incorporated in the Kull of Atlantis stories. By and by, Kull of Atlantis, through revision, would morph into Howard's most enduring creation, Conan the Cimmerian, the character whose world and adventures would become the "Ur-source" of the genre of S&S. 

From a certain perspective, S&S began with rejection. 

Let's hope it doesn't end that way.

"Sword and sorcery." Readers react to the term in a variety of ways. The genre is often the locus of critical paradox: (1) proto-feminist and sexist, (2) a form of modernist experimentation and formulaic pulp entertainment, (4) distinctively literary and ephemeral popular culture, an unpretentious multimedia phenomenon incorporating RPGs, music, and video games. 

The story of S&S is, to put it mildly, complicated. 

Here's a key theme: some criticize S&S for its conventionalism, its reliance upon a hackneyed formula. Shorn of all story incidentals, the spine of a typical S&S tale looks like this: a male barbarian faces off against a sorcerer in order to win a woman-as-prize. Seen in this light, it's hard to take S&S too seriously. Consider, for example, Brian Hval's lamentation along these grounds, published in the April 1970 issue of the S&S fanzine, Amra: "I have finally been exhausted by the same repetitious plots of half-naked barbarians chasing equally naked women through numberless perils, the entire series of episodes menaced by some slimy Elder Evil. [...] All brainless boozing barbarians!" (qtd. in Murphy 171). With this view of the genre in mind, it is sobering to recall that it began as genre defined by its generic formlessness. 

BUT! If one returns to the origins of S&S, you find this phrase: "Total scorn of established conventions." Alas, look at the end of the end of the story, you find this phrase: "The same repetitious plots." 

What the #$%& happened?

Brian Murphy's Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery (Pulp Hero Press, 2020), begins to wrestle with this story. Flame and Crimson is a much-needed survey of this venerable yet vivacious subgenre of fantasy literature. The book does more, however, than chronologically laying out the rise, development, decline, and (ongoing) rebirth of S&S. It lodges a compelling defense of S&S's enduring cultural significance in modernity; it provides an insightful description of its conventions and distinguishing features, and begins to connect the subgenre to its (often lamented) multimedia uptake in music, film, and gaming. 

Who is it written for? This book will be valuable to experts, casual fans, and newcomers alike. Experts might find a few chapters superficial and thin; casual fans might find some chapters technical and over-detailed; newcomers might wonder what all the fuss is about. But if you're interested in S&S--despite where you are coming from--this book is required reading. 

Below are a few of the reasons why.

Murphy's prose style is excellent, lively, unaffected, and precise, a delicate balance to strike.

Although it is written for a deep reader of fantasy, it does not assume that the reader knows everything there is to know about S&S already. It evinces a journalistic style: it is accessible, hospitable, and avoids the insular language of the academic. This is because it is truly an introductory survey. 

The opening chapters distinguishes S&S from other traditions of fantasy in a valid and thoughtful way. It goes on to treats all the major authors of S&S. I'm anticipating later reviews of the book that decry that certain writers didn't get treatment (or deeper treatment).

If there is anything controversial here, then it is in its treatment of L. Sprague de Camp, the editor and ambassador of Howard's Conan the Cimmerian character and critical standard bearer for S&S. Murphy treads lightly. He doesn't strictly condemn de Camp for his 1970s characterization of S&S as escapist, unpretentious, and anti-intellectual entertainment. He neutrally recounts how and why de Camp held this view: for de Camp, hewing to convention was part of S&S's appeal. Although one gets the sense that Murphy disagrees with de Camp in part, he doesn't use his book as a basis for editorially decrying de Camp. Instead, he simply lays out the de Camp story and gets the reader to consider his ambiguous role in the history of the subgenre: de Camp was a popularizer whose influence had good and bad consequences. Although many have formed negative opinions of de Camp due to his biographical distortions of Howard's life in Dark Valley Destiny, the infamous Howard bio, Murphy's steady approach is nevertheless admirable.

Murphy also discusses the S&S renaissance that is ongoing. Murphy hits on all the major players: DMR Books, Rogues Blades Entertainment, From the Magician's Skull, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly. He also briefly talks about Grimdark and its tangential relationship to S&S. I'm sure writers currently participating in the S&S renaissance would have preferred a longer treatment of their movement or favorite writers; however, Murphy's book is part of that same phenomenon. It will probably emerge as the "go-to" critical companion to the S&S revival.

There are some elements of the book worth quibbling with: the chapter on Robert E. Howard seemed unambitious from a literary criticism perspective. That chapter seemed to assume Howard's uncontested centrality in the genre and rehearsed previous arguments deployed elsewhere. One can't blame Murphy's treatment of Howard here. He clearly knows his Howard and perhaps didn't want to go over old territory. Indeed, he writes about Howard with precision. It would have been interesting to hear novel speculations about Howard's critical significance. But this chapter is less a new theory of Howard and more a restatement of previous arguments about Howard's centrality to the subgenre. 

There is an enthralling chapter on the cultural impact of S&S, wherein Murphy discusses S&S's uptake in other genres and medias. This chapter was extremely interesting but it seemed only a cursory treatment of an otherwise massive archive of pop culture that fans of S&S haven't even begun to come to terms with. For example, there is mention of R.A. Salvatore and his Drizzt Do'Urden novels, for example. But what about the stacks and stacks of mass market paperback game tie-in novels? (The Warhammer Fantasy characters, Gotrek and Felix, for example, are an homage to Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser and Conan). A longer treatment of S&S as a multimedia phenomenon is needed. Central to this is the way S&S's narrative conventions have become central to Dungeons and Dragons, which, despite your stance towards the game, is the main way most experience the genre, its conventions, its atmospherics, and thematic concerns. D&D should be viewed as a literary wellspring because it has become the major engine (for good or ill) of new adventure fantasy fiction.  Murphy has struck new territory with this chapter. 

To summarize: this book is excellent. It is the beginning of a long overdue, serious, and honest appraisal of the S&S subgenre. S&S is sometimes simplistically decried as a genre of anti-intellectualism, misogyny, and ideological insularity, but it doesn't come through as that caricature here. Murphy renders a vital genre where many of the concerns about a distinctively modern human experience are explored . One begins this book expecting it to be a history, a recounting of bygone days, a record of what has happened. It ends, however, with an emphasis on the S&S revival, on the future. It's an exciting turn.

Let me conclude by citing the opening of Robert E. Howard's first professional sale, "Spear and Fang" (Weird Tales, July 1925). The narrator is describing a premodern human, an "Ur-artist," trying his hand at artistic expression: "With a piece of flint he scratched the outline and then with a twig dipped in ocher paint completed the figure. The result was crude, but gave evidence of real artistic genius, struggling for expression." This image reminds me of S&S. S&S, too, is sometimes crude, but in Flame and Crimson, Brian Murphy reminds us that, more than you would expect, it gives evidence of real artistic genius struggling for a voice.

Reflections on Gary Con XI

I attended Gary Con XI in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin this year (my first visit). I had a memorable time. I highly recommend the convention to anyone who is enthusiastic about Dungeons and Dragons. There is something intangibly sorcerous about Lake Geneva. This might sound sentimental, but it seems the very air of that little town is infused with adventure.

On the flight out there, I re-read Michael Witwer's Empire of Imagination: Gary Gygax and the Birth of Dungeons and Dragons. It is a dramatic, somewhat hagiographic biography of E. Gary Gygax, the co-creator, with David Arneson, of D&D. It tells the story of the incubation of D&D in the wargaming community of the Twin Cities and Lake Geneva with an emphasis on Gygax's role. It is excellently written, not just for its value as biographical history but for its literary style. It reads as a novel and is charged with emotion. You learn of Gygax's excitement and energy as D&D becomes a phenomena and you learn of his frustration and desperation as he loses the company he founded. I highly recommend the book. It was an excellent read to prepare for the convention.

While I was at the convention I saw several excellent panels. I saw a rough cut of a documentary, Secrets of Blackmoor: The True History of Dungeons and Dragons. It told the story of the early origins of Dungeons and Dragons with an emphasis on Dave Arneson's role. Several of the veteran wargamers who were in the documentary were present and took questions afterwards. I was a forthcoming documentary on the art of Dungeons and Dragons, Eye of the Beholder: The Art of Dungeons and Dragons. It included lots of compelling information about the many phases of D&D art, from its early days through its evolution, and after the screening several artists were there to take questions. I saw a panel that was composed of the Gygax children and they talked about their memories of their father and what is was like growing up spectator to his successes and frustrations. I watched four episodes of The Dungeons and Dragons Cartoon with Ernie Gygax, who worked on the show. And I participated in a panel on the Literary Influences of Dungeons and Dragons. All in all, an excellent time was had.

"Ancient Red" by Larry Elmore

I went to Wizard World Con in Richmond last September and Larry Elmore, the famous Dungeons and Dragons artist, was a guest there. He was selling prints. I picked up a copy of his "Ancient Red," a painting that adorns the 1983 version of the Basic Dungeons and Dragons boxed set. I love this painting. The way I imagine dragons has been shaped by this painting. I find so many details of this painting appealing: the rictus snarl on the dragon's face, the scintillant hoard of gold it seems to guard, and the warrior wearing a horned helm holding up his sword to defend himself against the dragon's oncoming claw. If you look closely at the treasure hoard you will see fine details: a few chests, several vases, a bejeweled crown, an overflowing sack of gold. Elmore's illustrations are some of my favorites, right up there with Franz Frazetta. I chatted with Elmore very briefly at Wizard World and he told me that when he worked at TSR the employees often played Dungeons and Dragons. He said that his character was a red-haired dwarf warrior who had the sore fate of always dying. When he died he would have his follow adventurers resurrect him, but they would make him pay them back for this service, and this annoyed him. He also said he knew Gary Gygax. We didn't get a chance to talk too much about this interesting topic.