CleriCon Musings

This past weekend was CleriCon, a small game convention held in Glen Williams, Ontario, which is a little over 50 km outside Toronto. This is the third CleriCon organized by The Dungeon Minister, but the first one I've attended. The con takes place over three days – Friday night, all day Saturday, and part of Sunday. I was only there Saturday, but, after having gone, I wish I'd been there for its entirety. I have no idea how many people actually attended; I'd guess about 60 or 70 people. Even so, it had a terrific vibe, with everyone obviously enjoying themselves.

For the morning session, I ran a Dolmenwood adventure, The Ruined Abbey of St Clewyd, for four players. From what I can tell, everyone had a good time. My only real regret is that the scenario, while excellent, is probably a little too involved to be completed in a typical convention time slot. I should have prepared a shorter scenario and will remember that for the future. Still, the session was fun and the players really got into their characters. I was especially impressed by the player of Brother Aubrey, a friar, who was responsible for some of the most memorable moments in the session.

In the afternoon, I played Forbidden Psalm, a skirmish-level miniatures game based on Mörk Borg. As I've written here on numerous occasions, I've never been much of a miniatures player, though not for lack of interest. Mostly, my lack of skill in painting has kept me from looking too deeply into this part of the hobby. Regardless, I really I enjoyed playing this game, once I got the hang of its rules, which were simple and straightforward – just the way I like them. Though my faction, The Horrific Morbidities, did not emerge victorious, I have no regrets. The referee and the other players were great and I will happily play this again in the future.

One of the best things about CleriCon – and Gamehole Con too, about which I still have to write more – was meeting my fellow gamers and hanging out with them. For the Dolmenwood game, it turns out that I already knew or had interacted with three of the four players previously, though I didn't realize it. Two were people who knew me through this blog and one was someone I'd met in real life several years ago but did not remember until he jogged my memory. With my birthday in a couple of days, I guess I really am getting old!

I regularly remind myself that "the Internet is not real" in the sense that, when I go to conventions, no one there cares about the latest outrages and controversies. Even if they read blogs or social media, they're at the con to roll dice and have fun, not to rehash whatever silliness we get up to here. That's wonderfully refreshing and I think I need regular infusions of that kind of energy to buoy my spirits. That's probably why, whenever I come back from one of these gatherings, I feel a renewed sense of purpose.

I should add that I attended the con with an old and dear friend of mine, who's a stalwart of my online games. We didn't play any games together at CleriCon but we both left the event with the same sense that we should make a greater effort to arrange face-to-face gaming with our mutual friends. We might not be able to get together weekly the way we do with our online games, but we could perhaps aim for monthly or something similar. The busy-ness of many people's lives makes it so that we're unlikely to ever be able to meet in-person as regularly as we did in our youth, but there are nevertheless unique pleasures to sitting around a table together and rolling real rather than virtual dice. We need to get back to that.

In any case, I would say that CleriCon was, for me, a huge success. My only regret, as I said at the beginning of this post, is that I didn't spend more time there this weekend, as I am certain I'd have enjoyed myself as thoroughly as I did on Saturday. That's what next year is for, I suppose!

Blurry Photographic Proof of My Playing Forbidden Psalm

Embodied

I'm still catching up on everything I left behind while attending Gamehole Con XII last week, which is why I've fallen a bit behind on my usual posting schedule here, as well as on Patreon and Substack. I apologize for that, but such is life. I figure I'll settle back into my usual rhythm by the coming weekend, if not sooner. I, unfortunately, have a lot to do this week that doesn't involve my online life – like preparing for the first session of the new campaign I'm starting with the former House of Worms players. I'll talk more about that particular topic soon, but, for now, I wanted to continue with some thoughts occasioned by my time in Madison, Wisconsin.

I was very blessed to have shared a hotel room with one of the players of my Barrett's Raiders campaign. Though we’ve known each other for years, our friendship had only existed in the digital realm until last year’s Gamehole Con, when we finally met in person. Even after all these years of online gaming, there’s something quietly profound about that first handshake and the realization that someone you’ve shared countless imaginary worlds with actually exists in the same one as you. Perhaps it’s my age showing, but I still place great value on the tangible and largely unmediated experiences.

Online friendships are real. I have many that I treasure deeply, but there’s a particular joy in crossing that invisible line between the virtual and the physical. Sharing a meal, talking late into the night, comparing notes on games and life are all things that remind me why conventions like Gamehole Con matter. They’re not just about dice and character sheets; they’re about connection, which grounds this strange hobby of ours in real human company.

In the course of our many conversations at the con, my friend said something that struck me as both insightful and absolutely true. He remarked that one of the great things about our hobby is that, unlike most others, it’s entirely possible (and even likely) that, if you attend a convention, you’ll meet the very people who helped create something you love. And he’s right. Throughout the convention, I regularly chatted with Marc Miller, the creator of Traveller, swapping thoughts and stories as if we were old friends. If you’re a fan of a particular actor or director, the odds of ever spending time with them, let alone engaging in a long, thoughtful conversation, are practically nil. In this hobby, though, that kind of connection isn’t rare or guarded by velvet ropes. All it really takes is showing up with curiosity and a love of the game.

What makes this even more remarkable is that so many of the hobby’s “celebrities” (for lack of a better word) are, themselves, fans. I can’t tell you how many times, while sitting down to talk with someone well-known in the hobby, he told me how much he enjoyed Grognardia and how glad he was that I’d returned to blogging. A few times, I was even introduced to others as “the guy who writes Grognardia” and the look of recognition that followed was both humbling and gratifying. I was particularly tickled to discover that Ed Greenwood had bought all thirteen issues of my Tékumel ’zine, The Excellent Travelling Volume, because he’s a fan of the setting. I’ve met Ed several times before, but even so, that revelation surprised me.

My point here isn’t to brag (much) but to emphasize something I think is special about our hobby. There’s no vast gulf separating creators from players. In most cases, they’re the same people, sitting across the same tables, rolling the same dice, and dreaming the same dreams. That shared enthusiasm, that sense that we’re all participants in something communal and ongoing, is what gives tabletop gaming its continued vitality, even after half a century.

It’s easy to forget, especially when so much of our engagement now takes place online, that this is a living, breathing culture made up of people who still gather, talk, and play together. Conventions like Gamehole Con are a reminder of that. They're little oases where the virtual becomes tangible and the hobby renews itself through conversation and camaraderie. Each year I attend, I come home not only inspired to create more but also profoundly grateful to be part of something that remains, at its heart, so wonderfully human.

Thoughts on Gamehole Con 2025 (Prologue)

As I did last year, I'd like to begin my reflections on Gamehole Con by doing a quick overview of the people I met and the games that I played. Compared to 2024, this year's con felt a fair bit busier for me personally, as I was constantly running into people and then discovering, much to my surprise, that hours had passed while talking and now I had to hurry to a game or some other meeting. This is a good problem to have, but I sometimes worried that I spent far less time with some people than I'd have liked (or that they deserved). 

• Justin Alexander of The Alexandrian and its associated Youtube channel.
• Daniel of the YoDanno podcast.
• Charles E. Gannon: Science fiction author and old Traveller old. I hadn't seen him since Origins 1991(!) in Baltimore, so it was a very pleasant surprise to spend time with him again.
• Joseph Goodman: Head honcho at Goodman Games.
• Kenneth Hite: A true Renaissance man who's contributed to more games than I can remember.
• Jason Hobbs: Host of the Hobbs & Friends and Random Screed podcasts. He's one of the people I wish I'd been able to hang out with more.
• Sean Kelley: Co-host of the Gaming and BS podcast.
• Mike Mearls: Formerly of WotC and Chaosium, now with Asmodee.
• Marc Miller: Creator of Traveller and one of my favorite people, gracious and knowledgeable as ever.
• Travis Miller: Blogger at The Grumpy Wizard.
• Ben Milton: Host of the Questing Beast channel and The Glatisant newsletter.
• Jon Peterson: Author of Playing at the World and probably the premier historian of hobby.
• Victor Raymond: A dear friend, as well as my co-host on the Hall of Blue Illumination podcast (sadly now on extended hiatus).
• Tyler Stratton of Limithron, publisher of Pirate Borg. 
• Dave Thaumavore: Host of a Youtube channel.
• Ronin Wong: Actor and referee extraordinaire. He was the Keeper of a very fun modern day Call of Cthulhu adventure I played.
• Dustin Wright: Chaosium's intrepid customer service guy.
• And so many others whose names I have forgotten to my shame.

You’ll no doubt notice a fair number of bloggers and YouTubers in the list above, which isn’t surprising, since I’m part of that world myself. Still, it’s always a genuine joy to meet people I’ve known for years online in the flesh. There’s something profoundly, well, human about it, and I can’t help but feel we all need to do this more often. Spending time with someone unmediated by technology reminds us of the warmth and immediacy that no screen can replicate, especially as our lives grow ever more entangled with the digital. That’s exactly why attending Gamehole Con has become so meaningful to me: it’s a chance to reconnect, not just with friends and colleagues, but with the shared humanity at the heart of this hobby. 

I'll go into greater depth about the people, the games, and other activities of the con in upcoming posts.

There and Back Again

I am now safely back in my northern lair after spending the last five days at Gamehole Con in lovely Madison, Wisconsin. I have a lot to say about it and other topics, but that will have to wait until after I have dug myself out from under all the emails, comments, and other correspondence that has piled up in my absence. In the meantime, enjoy another amusing Tolkien-related comic:

https://reparrishcomics.com/post/186528205633/facebook-twitter-instagram-redbubble-buy

Off to Gamehole Con

I leave today for Madison, Wisconsin to attend Gamehole Con 12, which formally starts tomorrow. However, being the anxious person I am, I like to arrive a day early to ensure that any delays won't adversely affect my attendance. Like last year, I'm signed up to play in several games, including a session of Traveller with Marc Miller himself, but my main reason for going to the con is the chance to meet up with friends whom I might otherwise only "see" online. That's by far my favorite part of the convention and why I look forward to returning each year.

While I still remain an avowed Luddite, I will be bringing a camera with me this year, so I hope to have more photos to share of the con than I did last year. I will still be largely out of contact while I'm in Madison, so there will be no significant posts from me here or on my Patreon or Substack until after I return. Likewise, comment approval will be suspended. With luck, I'll avoid coming down with the dreaded Con Crud as a result of my travels, but I wasn't so lucky last year. 

Regardless, I'm off!

Two Weeks

Two weeks from today, Gamehole Con kicks off once again! Just like last year, I’ll be leaving my northern redoubt and heading to Madison, Wisconsin for four days of gaming and, just as importantly, the chance to meet up with friends, acquaintances, and, I hope, a few regular readers of this blog.

I’ve said before that I’m not much of a convention-goer by nature. I know how important cons were to the early spread of the hobby, but I’ve always been shy and introverted, so big gatherings don’t naturally appeal to me. That’s part of why I like Gamehole Con so much: it strikes a good balance. It’s simultaneously small enough that you can easily find the people you’re looking for, but large enough that you can disappear into the crowd when you want to (and I often do). One of my friends once called it “human sized,” and I think that’s exactly right.

That said, what really draws me to Madison isn’t just the games; it’s the people. The Internet makes it easy to keep in touch with fellow RPG enthusiasts, but nothing compares to being face-to-face. Most of my gaming these days is online – and I genuinely love that – but there’s something uniquely satisfying about sitting at a real table, rolling real dice, and sharing a few hours of roleplaying in person. It’s a terrific social experience, and, honestly, I think we could all use more of that. It’s good for the soul.

As I did last year, I’ll have much more to share about my time at the convention once I’m back. With luck, the experience will help keep me energized through the remainder of 2025. I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire right now – the Grognardia anthologies, the second edition of Thousand Suns, Secrets of sha-Arthan, and Dream-Quest – and while I remain excited about all of them, I won’t deny that keeping these projects moving forward alongside this blog can be demanding. A little outside encouragement goes a long way.

With that in mind, I’m running a sale over at DriveThruRPG. Everything is 30% off until the end of October 9. The sale helps cover the costs of my trip to Madison, but more than that, it’s an opportunity for readers to pick up some of my existing work at a discount. If you’ve ever thought about grabbing a title or two, now’s a good time. And, of course, if you’re not in a position to do so, simply reading the blog, commenting, and sharing it with others is also a tremendous form of support.

Either way, I’m grateful for everyone who takes the time to stop by here. I’m looking forward to reporting back from Gamehole Con, as well as to rolling some real dice with real people once again.

CleriCon 2025

While I'm looking forward to attending Gamehole Con in mid-October, I have often bemoaned the fact that there aren't more RPG conventions I'd like to attend closer to home. That's why I was very pleased to discover the existence of CleriCon, now in its third year. Organized by The Dungeon Minister – a real-life cleric – it's a small but growing old school-focused convention in Glen Williams, Ontario (about an hour outside Toronto). 

I'll be running a Dolmenwood adventure at the con on Saturday, October 25. If any Grognardia readers should find their way to CleriCon, please drop by to say hello. That's probably my favorite thing about gaming conventions: the opportunity to meet my fellow roleplayers in the flesh rather than just online.

Tourists and Locals

I'm fairly certain I've previously expressed my general dislike for "one-shots" or "mini-campaigns." To be clear, my dislike isn’t absolute, but I rarely seek them out. When I do participate in them, I often come away slightly unsatisfied. One of the greatest joys of roleplaying games, at least for me, lies in the continuity of a long campaign: the way characters grow, change, and accumulate history over time; how a setting deepens and acquires texture; how throwaway details from early sessions suddenly take on new meaning months (or even years) later. If given the chance, I prefer to settle in, to put down roots, and see what emerges over the long haul. That’s usually my goal when I sit down at the table with friends. I want a campaign, not a fling.

And yet ...

Over the past few years, I've come to appreciate the distinct pleasures of convention games: those four-hour sessions with a group of strangers that begin and end in a single afternoon or evening. I had a great time at last year's Gamehole Con and came away from several sessions feeling energized and inspired. That’s part of the reason I’m looking forward to signing up for more this year. On paper, con games are the antithesis of what I usually look for in roleplaying. They’re self-contained, focused, and impermanent. Once the session is over, it’s over. So why don’t they leave me with the same hollow feeling that a short-lived home campaign often does?

While I’m not above hypocrisy, I think I have a good sense of why I enjoy con games more than I would have expected.

Playing a game at a convention is, for me, a form of tourism. I show up, meet new people, and explore a small slice of a game or setting with which I may not be familiar. It’s a snapshot. There’s no illusion of permanence, no lingering sense of “what might have been.” The characters might be memorable and the play enjoyable, but everyone understands from the outset that this is a limited-time engagement. It’s a visit, not a move.

A home campaign with friends, by contrast, is more like choosing to live somewhere. There’s an implicit commitment. We’re investing in something meant to last. That shared commitment changes everything. When I play with friends, I generally don’t want the game to have an expiration date. I want room to build, to wander, to return to familiar locations, to interact with recurring NPCs, to watch the slow accretion of detail and consequence. A one-off in that context feels like a house without a foundation –furnished, perhaps, for a party, but not built for living in.

There’s also a difference in ambition. A convention game rarely tries to be more than it is. It knows its limits and, when well-run, delivers something satisfying within them. A one-shot at home, on the other hand, often aspires to be a mini-campaign or the seed of something larger, but without the time to grow into either. The result is frequently a sense of missed potential. The game ends just as things are getting interesting. I experienced this recently during a game of Dragonbane that one of my Dolmenwood players refereed for us. It was fun but also a little bit frustrating: a glimpse of something promising that ended too soon.

None of this is meant as a criticism of short-form RPG play. Many people love one-shots and mini-campaigns and probably with good reason. For me, though, the pleasure of roleplaying originates elsewhere. I want to stay, not merely pass through. I want to know the locals, not just see the sights.

But every now and then, it’s good to be a tourist.

Amalaric the Ill-Tempered

When I attended Gamehole Con this year, I decided I wouldn't referee any games, but would instead play in several. I did this for a couple of reasons. First, I'm usually the referee, so having the opportunity to play is a treat (even though I'm actually quite bad at it). Second, I intend to run some sessions at future Gamehole Cons – and perhaps some other cons, too, if I can decide on others to attend – and wanted to do some "field research" on what these games are typically like. Though I'm a pretty experienced and, if my players are to be believed, good referee, I'm nevertheless quite self-conscious about my abilities. Seeing how others handle the referee's duties at a con thus provided me with some very useful information. 

The very first game I played at the con was Hyperborea. I've been a fan of the game since its original edition, released more than a decade ago. It's a delightfully game, inspired by the greats of pulp fantasy, like Howard, Lovecraft, and Smith. Rules-wise, it's pretty much a rationalized and house ruled version of AD&D and, like AD&D, Hyperborea is baroque and idiosyncratic. To tell the truth, that's a big part of why I like the game so much. I appreciate it when a designer imbues his game with himself – his likes and dislikes, his philosophy and worldview – that's just what Jeff Talanian did with Hyperborea. That's a welcome break from recent attempts to sand down the rough edges of our popular culture to make it appeal to everyone, in the process making it appeal to no one in particular.

Like most con games, this one had a four-hour time slot and featured six players. Entitled "A Tale of Crows and Shadow," it was, so far as I know, an original adventure by our referee. Before we began, he passed out a stack of pregenerated characters from which to choose. I selected a warlock – a fighter/magic-user, more or less – named Amalaric the Ill-Tempered. After everyone had chosen their characters, the referee then asked if we all had dice. Embarrassingly, I did not. I was sitting next to the referee and, as I explained that I had no dice, he turned, looked at me, and asked, "Are you sure you're in the right place?" He meant it humorously, of course, but I can't deny feeling a little sheepish at his words. Fortunately, a player seated across from me tossed me a bag of dice and told me to keep them. "I always carry extras for times like this."

The adventure began with all of the characters awakening aboard a slave galley headed out to sea. Our food and drink had been drugged after a night's debauchery in the metropolis of Khromarium. Below decks and chained to our oars, we first had to find a way to escape. The first half of the scenario involved us plotting to free ourselves and then take control of the vessel. After many extraordinary feats of Strength (and Dexterity) and much combat, we were successful. Now in command of the ship, we had to pilot it back to land without quite knowing where we were. Once there, we trekked through the wilderness at night, while someone (or something) was following us. Eventually, we discovered that our stalker was a vampire – and a child vampire at that. Dealing with her was creepy, unnerving, and surprisingly difficult, but we eventually prevailed.

I had a lot of fun playing this adventure, which felt very picaresque in its structure. This wasn't a scenario in which everything that happened in it was directly connected. Instead, one thing happened after another, each being a kind of mini-scenario of its own. It was a bit like a series of pulp fantasy vignettes, all sharing the same cast of characters, but not having any overarching plot or theme. I was quite fine with that. Not only did it suit Hyperborea, but it also gave the session a "light" feeling. We weren't following some grand storyline or trying to achieve anything beyond saving our skins and escaping the latest danger we stumbled upon. 

Not being a veteran of con games, I'm not sure how typical my experience was. One of the most notable things about it, to my mind anyway, is that the players were frequently willing to take chances on harebrained schemes and reckless gambits. That might be a function of the fact that everyone knew this was a one-shot. Our natural self-preservation instincts were blunted. If our character died while trying to bowl over a group of guards, Captain Kirk style, so what? We were having good, pulpy fun and that's all that mattered. As I think about the possibility running my own games at a future con, I'll bear this in mind. I think a good convention adventure is probably its own thing, distinct from the kind of adventure that works well in a campaign situation.

Anyway, Hyperborea's a fun game. I should play it more (and so should you).

Kings and Aces

Marc Miller, creator of Traveller, and one of the three founders of Game Designers' Workshop also attended Gamehole Con this year, as he does most years. I first met Marc many years ago, at the Origins Game Fair in 1991, which was, I believe, the last time the con was held in my hometown of Baltimore. I was a member of a Traveller fan organization called the History of the Imperium Working Group (HIWG) and several of us present at the con wanted to pitch some ideas to GDW for (Mega)Traveller adventures and supplements. We wound up going out to dinner with Marc, Chuck Gannon, and the Japanese translators of Traveller. We didn't succeed in our quest, but I did have the chance to meet several wonderful people, including Marc, with whom I've stayed in contact over the years.

Marc held several panels, one of which was devoted to the history of GDW. Every person who arrived in the conference room was given a deck of cards Marc had printed through DriveThruRPG. He's a big fan of specialized decks of cards and often brings them for sale at conventions. The decks he gave us were devoted to the topic of the panel. The face cards all featured important people in the history of the company, like Marc Miller, Loren Wiseman, and Frank Chadwick, while the number cards all featured games it had published, like Traveller, Twilight: 2000, or Space: 1889 (along with lots of wargames, of course). 

During the panel, Marc would go around the room, point to someone and ask them to draw a card randomly from the deck they'd been given. After doing so, the person would then read what was on the card and Marc will talk for a while about the person or game in question. In this way, the cards provided some focus for the discussion rather than relying solely on audience questions. Another benefit is that light was often shed on individuals or games that might otherwise not get discussed, like Chaco, a wargame about the 1932–1936 war between Bolivia and Paraguay. The game is one of Miller's earliest designs and was created, in part, as an educational tool to teach about South American history.

All the panels at Gamehole Con were too short – only an hour. They were all held in the same room, with a new one starting every hour on the hour, all day, every day. That meant that there was often a rush toward the end of each panel that caused a fair bit of disruption, as overzealous gamers tried to enter an ongoing panel before it was actually ended. I would have much preferred fewer, longer panels, so that we could luxuriate a bit in the stories and memories of the guests. 

In the case of Marc Miller, he has so many stories. He's now 77 years old and has been involved in the hobbies of wargaming and roleplaying for more than half a century. Yet, his memory is incredibly sharp and, with age, I think he's acquired a perspective that's refreshing in its humility. He talked a lot about how, as in the case of TSR, no one really knew what they were doing at GDW. They were making it all up as they went, having fun as they explored new ideas and took chances on making them reality. Some ideas were better than others and some approaches worked, but they learned a lot from each project, whether it proved a success or a failure. Marc expressed several times how blessed he'd been to have had the career he had, making games and making people happy. 

Not a bad legacy, eh?

Gaming with Allen Hammack

I played in several RPG sessions while at Gamehole Con this year. Though I enjoyed them all – and will eventually discuss each in turn – the one I most immediately want to talk about is The Ghost Tower of Inverness, refereed by its original author, Allen Hammack. The AD&D module was published in 1980, having been used before that as a tournament scenario for Winter Con VIII in late 1979. Like many tournament scenarios, this one is rather contrived in its set-up and features a funhouse dungeon filled with all manner of puzzles, trick, and traps. 

For the purposes of this post, I don't have a lot to say about the scenario itself, since it's old and probably quite well-known to most readers of this blog. Instead, what most interests me and that I think is most worthy of attention is the way Mr Hammack ran it at the table during the con. Bear in mind that Hammack was employed by TSR Hobbies between 1978 and 1982, where he worked as a writer, designer, and editor, primarily on the AD&D. I mention this to provide some context to what follows.

The module is designed for five pre-generated characters, all human – a fighter, a cleric, a magic-user, a thief, and a monk. I played the cleric, Zinethar the Wise, who was 9th level and, oddly, had slightly more hit points than the fighter. The module assumes that all the characters with the exception of the monk are condemned criminals who are offered the opportunity to escape imprisonment by undertaking a dangerous mission for the Duke of Urnst (in the World of Greyhawk), namely, the recovery of the Soul Gem from the titular Ghost Tower. I knew none of the other four players prior to play, so we had to learn to work together to succeed.

Mr Hammack is an older gentleman. I have no idea his actual age, but I suspect he's probably in his late 60s or early 70s at least. Despite this, his mind is very sharp, especially when it comes to the AD&D rules. More than once during the four hours we were at his table, a player asked a question about how, say, a spell functioned. Before someone could find the appropriate page in the Players Handbook, Hammack recalled the relevant information – and correctly. After a while, we learned to trust his memory over our ability to flip pages quickly. I bring all this up, because it supports my long-held contention that hobbies like roleplaying are good for the health of your brain. 

Given how well he remembered the rules of AD&D, another question that came up was how strict Mr Hammack would be in applying them. He chuckled and said that he was generally quite flexible about doing so, with a couple of exceptions. Going back to spells, Hammack explained that he is often loose with spell durations but he was more rigid about areas of effect. Likewise, he noted that he was loose with encumbrance, unless he felt a player was trying to take advantage of a situation. He then told a terrific story about how he and other AD&D players of his acquaintance would use 3×5 index cards for character sheets, with stats being written on the front and equipment on the back. Anything you could fit on the back of an index card – in legible writing – would probably not bring encumbrance penalties into effect. 

Mr Hammack's overall approach to rules was governed by common sense. He clearly knew the rules and was prepared to apply them when he felt it necessary or appropriate, but he never felt bound by them. Indeed, he could be talked out of applying them by a good argument from a player, as he was on at least one occasion. At the same time, Hammack was also quite clear that his decision was final. Once he'd made a decision and considered any input from the players, there was no further arguing of the point. That he was fair and judicious probably explains why no one argued with his final decisions – that we were all middle-aged men, not children probably helped, too. I found the whole experience quite refreshing, to be honest.

I should note that, despite his extensive knowledge of AD&D rules, Mr Hammack was not above introducing house rules into play. For example, there were many occasions when he asked us to roll under a character's ability score to determine if our characters succeeded at some action or other. Likewise, he made use of a simple critical hit/fumble mechanic that's definitely not something Gary Gygax would ever have approved of. The mechanic worked fine in play and even contributed to a number of fun moments, which was exactly what we all hoped for.

In sum, I had a great time at Allen Hammack's table. He was a charming, knowledgeable, and imaginative Dungeon Master and he made me appreciate how good a module The Ghost Tower of Inverness actually is. I consider myself very lucky to have played with him at Gamehole Con this year.

Thoughts on Gamehole Con 2024 (Prologue)

As I've explained before, I first attended Gamehole Con in 2017 – my first convention since GenCon 2001 (unless one counts OSRCon). I enjoyed the experience enough to go back in 2018. I intended to do so again in 2019 until a run-in with a car at a crosswalk interceded. I also intended to return in 2020, but Fate once more prevented my doing so. By 2021, my nascent habit of attending GHC had been broken and I didn't seriously consider going once more until this year, thanks in no small part to the stated intention of a couple players in my Twilight: 2000 campaign to do so. 

That was the push I needed and I am grateful for it, because I had a blast at the con. Perhaps my favorite part was seeing people in the flesh. Though I've refereed the House of Worms campaign for nine and a half years now, I've met fewer than half of my players in person. Don't misunderstand me: I consider all my online players my friends and am deeply grateful for them and the time they spend with me, but hanging out and gaming at the same table together just feels right and good in ways that simply can't be replicated in a virtual space. Gamehole Con demonstrated this truth again and again.

Among the people I got to hang out and/or roll some dice with whose names you might recognize were:

• David "Zeb" Cook: Former TSR designer. 
• Jeff Grubb: Former TSR designer whom I first met years ago.
• Allen Hammack: Former TSR designer, who refereed me and four others in his classic AD&D modules, The Ghost Tower of Inverness (about which I'll have much more to say later).
• Jason Hobbs: Host of the Hobbs & Friends and Random Screed podcasts.
• Mike Mearls: Former WotC designer, now working with Chaosium. He refereed me and several others in a fun RuneQuest adventure scenario.
• Marc Miller: Creator of my favorite roleplaying game, Traveller, and one the nicest, most gracious people I know in the hobby – a true gentleman.
• Travis Miller: Fellow blogger, whose Grumpy Wizard site is devoted to sword-and-sorcery literature and old school gaming.
• Victor Raymond: An old and dear friend of mine, as well as my co-host on the Halls of Blue Illumination podcast.
• Seth Skorkowsky: Youtuber and author, who played the most awesome Yelmalio cultist in a RuneQuest session. 
• Steve Winter: Former TSR and WotC designer.
• Ronin Wong: Actor and fellow lover of Holmes Basic. 

There were undoubtedly others whose names I have forgotten – most importantly the wonderful people with whom I played AD&D, Hyperborea, and RuneQuest. They were the reason I went to Gamehole Con. I wanted to be with real, living people, unmediated by technology. I wanted to be able to see them, hear them, and touch them directly with my own senses. At one point, early in the con, I was out for lunch at a local bar with two of the players in my Twilight: 2000 campaign and I was immediately struck by how weird it was to hear their voices without wearing a headset and to see their faces without looking at a screen. Of course, that's not weird at all; it only seemed so because I'd spent so much of the last decade gaming online rather than across a table. Maybe that needs to change.

I left the convention incredibly energized and enthusiastic about this hobby of ours. Lots of ideas and plans – some of them no doubt harebrained – began to percolate in my brain. I'll be talking more about some of them in the days to come. Others I'll keep to myself for a while, since I can't be certain that they'll ever come to fruition (or indeed if they could). What I do know is that I am so glad I decided to return to Gamehole Con after too long an absence. I'm pretty sure I'll be making this an annual pilgrimage. I may also add another con to my schedule next year, too, perhaps GaryCon or North Texas RPG Con, depending on scheduling. If anyone has any thoughts or recommendations about either of them, I'd love to hear them.

More specific posts about my adventures in Madison, Wisconsin will follow in subsequent posts throughout the week.

Return

I am now safely returned to my lair, after spending a delightful five days in Madison, Wisconsin at Gamehole Con. I have a lot to share about my time there and the many fellow gamers, both well-known and otherwise, whom I met. Regular posting will resume later today or, more likely, tomorrow, as I'm still recuperating from my travels. 

Off to GHC

As I mentioned previously, I will be attending Gamehole Con this year. I leave for Madison, Wisconsin today and will return on Sunday. It's been several years since I was last at GHC and am looking forward to it, even though I absolutely loathe airline travel. There are quite a few people whom I'm keen to see in the flesh again and I'm sure I'll make the acquaintance many more over the course of the next few days. For the duration of my travels, I'll likely be offline, so I won't be able to answer emails or approve comments on the blog. I likewise won't have any new posts until a day or two after I return, since I'll likely be tired (though not, I hope, afflicted with the dreaded con crud). 

Until then!

Madison Bound

So, who's going to be attending Gamehole Con 11 this year? After much hemming and hawing, I finally went ahead and committed to going this October 17–20 in Madison, Wisconsin. As I've mentioned before, I had a great time at GHC the couple of times I was there before, so I'm looking forward to returning once again. I'm also looking forward to seeing friends from all over once again. For me, that's the real joy of conventions: having the chance to chat, hang out, and roll some dice in the flesh rather than just virtually, as I do too often these days.

With that in mind: who else will be attending? I'd love to have the chance to meet up with some of you and maybe even play something. I've been contemplating using the con as an opportunity to publicly playtest the latest draft of Secrets of sha-Arthan anyway, so it might be even more fun to do it with regular readers and patrons. If you'll be there and would like to get together, drop a note in the comments below and we can begin to planning it now.

Polyhedron: Issue #21

Issue #21 of Polyhedron (January 1985) features a cover illustration by Timothy Truman, who produced a lot of artwork for TSR throughout the 1980s before going on to greater success as a comic book artist. The piece depicts the protagonist of this issue's "Encounters" article, facing off against a creature of para-elemental ice, but, as I'll explain shortly, I have some questions. 

The issue starts with another "Notes from HQ" article by Penny Petticord. Her position is RPGA Network Coordinator, which I assume is the title of the head of the RPGA. However, starting with issue #22, Petticord will also be the editor of Polyhedron, taking over from Mary Kirchoff, who'd been on the staff of the newszine since issue #5. She would then devote herself full-time to fiction, writing numerous Dragonlance novels and later becoming part of TSR's book publishing division.

Next up is the aforementioned "Encounters" article by James M. Ward. The scenario sees a young paladin named Ren Grakkan on a quest to retrieve "the most potent of all artifacts," the white cloak of enchanting (or is it charming? The text is inconsistent) for his unnamed lady love. The cloak is found in a cave guarded by para-elemental ice monsters. As I noted, I have a couple of questions. First, Ren is described as a paladin, but he looks more like a classic sword-and-sorcery barbarian based on Truman's illustration. The text at least supports this, since he's described as wearing no armor but only bracers of defense (AC 4) and having Dexterity 18 (hence a –4 defensive adjustment). Even so, he looks nothing like what I'd expect of a "paladin," but perhaps I simply lack imagination. (I suppose it's possible the artwork depicts the cloak's original owner, a barbarian lord, who lost it in battle against the ice creatures, but then why isn't the cloak shown?) Second, this so-called "potent artifact" Ren is seeking makes its wearer's charm and illusion spells harder to resist, especially if the wearer is female. Could it be that Ren's "lady love" is actually a sorceresss who's charmed him? There's no evidence of this in the text, but the thought occurs to me. (Also, why does Ward keep re-using the name "Ren" for his characters?)

Sonny Scott's "Observations from a Veteran Gamer" is short piece of fluffy advice from a long-time player of AD&D who's also a stalwart of the RPGA. I don't mean to be so dismissive, but there's nothing here you've never heard a thousand times before. More interesting is Gary Gygax's "Why Gargoyles Don't Have Wings But Should." The article begins with classic Gygaxian boasting: he speaks of his association with Flint Dille ("Did you know his grandfather invented Buck Rogers?") and their upcoming joint projects. Then, he moves on to his dissatisfaction with depictions of both the gargoyle and the mar(l)goyle from Monster Manual II. The illustrations for both, Gygax says, lack wings and this should be corrected in "some future edition" of AD&D. For reference, here are the two illustrations in question: 

"Don't try to tell me those dark shadows are wings!" Thus spake Gygax.

Gygax also explains that the second monster's proper name is marlgoyle, with an "l," just as it's named in The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth. This is one of those cases where, if one knows anything about geology, the error is obvious. In any case, I find this sort of thing fascinating – all the more so because the error was never corrected in any subsequent edition of the game. 

Roger E. Moore's "Take Command of a Titan!" is, by far and away, the best part of this issue and indeed one of my favorite articles ever to appear in any gaming periodical, not simply Polyhedron. In it, Moore lays the groundwork for a "Big Ship" campaign in Star Frontiers. By "big ship," he means a space vessel whose crew numbers in the hundreds at least, if not more. This is territory well covered by both Traveller and Star Trek, but it's not really discussed in Star Frontiers. Additionally, Moore provides lots of ideas on what makes a Big Ship campaign unique and fun. Back in my youth, this article, along with its sequel in the next issue, was a very inspirational one for me. To this day, I find myself longing for a science fiction campaign set aboard a Big Ship.

"Spelling Bee" by Frank Mentzer returns, looking at the ins and outs of a few low-level magic-user spells for AD&D. I'm always of two minds about these kinds of articles. On the one hand, I appreciate seeing the clever ways that people can make use of well-worn spells. On the other hand, some of these clever uses depend on very specific, nitpicky, and possibly tendentious readings of the text. It's a fine line, to be sure, which is why I can't be outright dismissive of articles like this, even as I, as a habitual referee, tend to grit my teeth at some of the more "creative" applications put forward.

"Witchstone" by Carl Sargent is an AD&D adventure for character levels 8–12. It's an odd adventure, because, at base, it's pretty mundane: a bunch of hill giants are causing trouble and it's up to the PCs to deal with them. However, the reason why the giants are more hostile than usual concerns a power play by a giantess wishing to make her son chief. This she does by trickery, pretending she is a witch and arranging for "accidents" to occur that support her false claim. It's certainly interesting in an abstract sense, but I'm not sure how much of this would be communicated to the characters involved in the adventure.

"Five New NPCs" is just what its title suggests: a collection of five non-player characters submitted by RPGA members. None of them are especially memorable. "Module Building from A to Z" by Roger E. Moore is vastly more worthy of attention. In this lengthy, four-page article in which Moore presents the guidelines by which modules submitted to both Dragon and Polyhedron are evaluated. It's a remarkable article for its insight into the culture of TSR in early 1985, as well as into the readership of its periodicals. There are already hints of the "TSR Code of Ethics" that would appear later, for example. The guidelines also allude to the relative popularity of various RPGs at the time, with modules for games like Boot Hill and Gangbusters being excluded "due to low reader interest." There's a lot here to consider; I may need to do a longer post dissecting the whole thing.

I could not bring myself to read "The RPGA Network Tournament Scoring System" – sorry! "Dispel Confusion" covers only three games this month: AD&D, Gamma World, and Top Secret, with AD&D questions taking up slightly more than half of the pages devoted to this section. That shouldn't come as a surprise, but I nevertheless find it notable. What does surprise me is how often the submitted questions amount to "In my campaign, can I do ...?" with the answer usually being, "Yes, if the referee will allow it." What a strange world! This seeking of permission from the publisher is bizarre. I wonder if anyone ever wrote to Parker Brothers to ask about whether it was OK to use Free Parking as something other than an empty space?

Polyhedron: Issue #20

Issue #20 of Polyhedron (November 1984) is another with which I am very familiar. Regular readers should also remember it from another post I wrote almost a year ago. The cover, by Roger Raupp, depicting the events of this issue's "Encounters" article, is a big part of the reason why it made such an impression on me as a teenager. I'll have a little more to say about it shortly.

"Notes from HQ" is a good reminder that, whatever else it may have been, Polyhedron was supposed to be the official news organ of the RPGA. Consequently, the article focuses on the most recent GenCon and the events run there on behalf of the Role Playing Game Association. While most of the information it conveys is ephemera – "Due to a computer mixup, our events didn't make it into the pre-registration brochure ..." – I nevertheless found the titles of some of the RPGA events fascinating. For example, there was "Baron of San Andreas" for Boot Hill, "Seventh Seal" for Top Secret, and "Rapture of the Deep" (or "Face of the Anemone") for Gamma World. It's all quite evocative and makes me wish I knew more about them.

Speaking of Gamma World, there's another installment of James M. Ward's "Cryptic Alliance of the Bi-Month," this time devoted to the Healers. To date, most of the entries in this series have been, in my opinion, vague on details and generally limited in utility. Some, however, get by because the cryptic alliance covered is sufficiently interesting in its own right, like, say, the Knights of Genetic Purity, Sadly, the same cannot be said of the Healers, who come across as very generic peaceniks without much in the way of adventure hooks that might convince a referee to include them. Also, like too many of the cryptic alliances in this series, the Healers' own legends include too many sly jokes and references to 20th century pop culture ("Lue of the Sky" and "Bencassy"), but then that's a common problem with the presentation of Gamma World's setting and not unique to them.

Kim Eastland's "The Proton Beam" describes a new form of weapons technology for use with Star Frontiers, along with defenses against it. I've always had conflicted feelings about the fixation sci-fi games have with an ever-expanding equipment list, so I tend to greet articles like this with some skepticism. In this case, though, I appreciate that Eastland use the introduction of the proton beam into an existing Star Frontiers campaign as an occasion for adventure. He suggests several possible ways the new weapon could debut, each of which has the potential to send the campaign in different directions. To my mind, that's how new equipment/technology ought to be handled.

James M. Ward returns with "The Druid," a two-page article describing Thorn Greenwood, a druid NPC, in some detail. This is part of an irregular series begun back in issue #17, in which Ward presents an archetypal example of an AD&D character class as an aid/inspiration to players and referees alike. Accompanying the article is another page in which RPGA members have submitted their own shorter examples of members of the class. It's an interesting idea, but I'm not convinced it's quite as useful as Ward might have intended.

"The 384th Incarnation of Bigby's Tomb" is a very high-level (15–25) AD&D tournament adventure by Frank Mentzer. Despite its title, the scenario does not seem to have anything to do with either Gary Gygax's character Bigby nor with The World of Greyhawk. The titular Bigby would seem simply to be a generic archmage, though artist Roger Raupp seems to have taken some inspiration from Gygax's actual appearance in depicting him:

The premise of the adventure is that Bigby labors under a curse that makes him unable to employ potions of longevity and thereby extend his life. Rather than die, he placed himself in suspended animation within an artifact, where he would rest until brave adventures might find him, lift the curse, and deliver to him the desired potion. The dungeon surrounding the artifact is not really a tomb, since Bigby isn't dead, but it is a deadly place filled with lots of tricks, traps, and challenges, just as you'd expect of a good tournament dungeon.

"Encounters," yet another piece by James M. Ward, features the Aquabot for Gamma World, about which I've written before, as I noted above. In my youth, I remember finding the article somewhat jarring, because, up until this point, the setting of Gamma World had never included anything like this in any of its previous supplementary material and I didn't quite know what to make of it. Years later, I'm still not sure, but there's no denying that it made an impression on me, so I suppose it achieved its purpose.

The antepenultimate section of this issue is a doozy: Roger E. Moore's three-page essay on "Women in Role Playing." The article is a very well-intentioned and reasonably thoughtful attempt to broach a number of topics relating to the entry of more women into the overwhelmingly male dominated hobby of roleplaying. While I suspect that many readers today, male or female, might detect the occasional air of condescension in Moore's prose, I think that's probably the wrong lens through which to view this piece. TSR, to its credit, was always quite keen to expand the hobby beyond its traditional male fanbase and articles like this suggest, I think, that they were at least partially successful. 

Roger Moore returns with "Now That It's Over ...," another report on the most recent GenCon (17 for those who care). Unlike "Notes from HQ," Moore's article focuses not solely on RPGA matters but on the entire con. Consequently, there's some genuinely interesting bits of historical trivia, like the performance of a dramatic reading from the first Dragonlance novel that received "a standing ovation." He also highlights all the new RPGs that appeared that year, like Paranoia, Toon, Ringworld. and Chill, not to mention TSR's own additions, like Marvel Super Heroes and The Advenures of Indiana Jones – quite the banner year for new releases!

Finally, there's "Dispel Confusion," with answers to questions about D&D, AD&D, Gamma World, Gangbusters, Star Frontiers, and Top Secret. Only the AD&D questions have any lasting importance, largely because they're questions put directly to Gary Gygax himself at the latest GenCon. One concerns the appearance of the mythical module T2, whose manuscript Gygax says is now complete, though without committing to a release date. The second monsters that are "pretty useless" and that "are never seen in the modules." Oddly, Gygax replies that "work is being done to update and improve the Fiend Folio," even though the questioner, at least as reported, did not specifically mention that book of monsters. It's well known that Gygax didn't like the Fiend Folio and many of its entries, so perhaps he simply took this question as another opportunity to vent his spleen about it.

Should I Go to Gamehole Con Again?

Being shy and introverted by nature, I never developed the habit of going to gaming conventions in my youth. Nevertheless, I attended one Origins, back in 1991, because it was held in Baltimore, not far from where I grew up. I also attended one GenCon (2001), because I was, at the time, working quite seriously as a freelance gaming writer and I saw it as a good opportunity to meet people associated with the various publishers who'd employed me. In both cases, I had a good time and I still look back fondly on the experiences. For example, having the chance to sit in the Steve Jackson Games booth with the late Loren Wiseman to talk about Traveller for hours remains a cherished memory of mine to this day.

In the years that followed, I simply didn't have the time or, frankly, the inclination to attend any more conventions. I had young children at home, so my devotion to being a freelance writer waned, as did my desire to travel anywhere, never mind gaming conventions. My personal world contracted quite a bit – and I don't mean that in a bad way – and remained quite small until I started writing this blog. Through it and my involvement in the early days of the OSR, I started "meeting" more and more people who shared my interests and outlook. That, in turn, planted the seeds of the idea that maybe I should reconsider going to conventions.

I hate traveling, especially by air. Prior to September 11, 2001, air travel was barely tolerable. Afterwards, I couldn't stomach the thought of it and abandoned the idea of ever using it again. However, my good friend (and co-host of the Hall of Blue Illumination podcast), Victor Raymond, slowly convinced me to consider going to Gamehole Con. He told me that GHC was still fairly small in size and, even as it had grown, it retained a feeling of coziness that might be more amenable to an introvert like myself. "Small enough that you can find people you want to meet – and large enough that you can avoid those you don't want to," is how he put it.

Eventually, I took the plunge and first attended the con in 2017. As Victor had told me, I found it very much to my liking. I was finally able to meet a number of people with whom I'd been friends online for years, which was extremely gratifying. I also met numerous gaming luminaries of the past, which was a real treat. My experience in 2017 was so enjoyable that I happily returned the next year. The second time I attended was every bit as good as the first. This led me to believe that I might perhaps make this an annual thing. Indeed, the next year, I not only planned to return, but planned to participate in the Tékumel Track of events sponsored by the Tékumel Foundation. Despite my dislike of large gatherings and air travel, I thought I'd finally found a convention for me.

Unfortunately, in 2019, I was hit by a car just days before leaving for what would have been my third GHC. Though I was able to walk away from the accident with comparatively minor injuries, I had to cancel my con appearance. I nevertheless intended to return to Madison, Wisconsin in 2020 but the real world had other ideas. Though the convention eventually returned to its former self, the break – and my own lack of desire to be subjected to health theater in addition to security theater while traveling – put an end to my attendance at Gamehole Con.

Lately, though, I've started to wonder whether I should try to attend again. Several friends of mine, including at least one player in my ongoing Twilight: 2000 campaign, has mentioned that they'd be going to the con. Several more have suggested that they might go, especially if I were going to do so. Further, I've been considering the possibility of refereeing Secrets of sha-Arthan scenarios for people other than my friends, as a way of playtesting its rules and gauging reactions to its setting by a larger sample. Perhaps a con setting might be a good way to do that?

So, what do you think? Should I go to Gamehole Con this year? Obviously, my decision won't hinge entirely on what anyone posts in the comments, but I do like to hear other perspectives. I had a lot of fun at GHC in the past, so it's not as if attendance would be something wholly alien to me. At the same time, I'm (once again) out of practice when it comes to attending a large event like this, something my introverted nature instinctively recoils at. That's why I'm curious to know your thoughts on the matter. 

Polyhedron: Issue #7

Issue # 7 of Polyhedron (August 1982) once again features a cover artist – Scott Roberts – with whom I am unfamiliar. I find this fascinating, as it suggests that the staff of the 'zine wanted to cultivate a unique look for the periodical, one that was distinct from that of Dragon, even though both were published by TSR. True or not, this trend lessened somewhat as Polyhedron's run continued, as we'll see in future posts in this series. 

The issue begins with Frank Mentzer's last(?) "Where I'm Coming From," in which he briefly recounts the founding of the RPGA and the role he and others played in that. Then, he announces that "it's time for me to move on," as he will soon be "very, very busy working with Gary." He explains that he will "essentially ... be #2 right after Gary when it comes to D&D® rules and AD&D™ games, and so forth." This is obviously a reference to his oversight of the revision of Dungeons & Dragons game, as well as his assistance in getting things like The Temple of Elemental Evil completed, both of which earned Mentzer a lasting place in the history of the hobby.

The letters page includes the following:

This letter hits home, because I remember well the first few years after I discovered D&D and other RPGs. They were most definitely obsessions for me – not to the extent that they affected my schoolwork and other responsibilities, but I certainly devoted a lot of time to playing and preparing to play them. 

"Dispel Confusion" contains a number of interesting questions and answers this issue. For example, one reader asks about the level at which a ranger casts druid and magic-user spells in AD&D. The answer is that, at the time a ranger gains access to a new type of spellcasting, he casts those spells as if he were 1st level in the appropriate class. Thus, a ranger gains druid spells at 8th level in his class but casts those spells as if he were a 1st-level druid. The same is true of magic-user spells, which a ranger gains at 9th level. I believe I already knew this, but it was fascinating to be reminded of it. Additionally, there's this question and answer:

I have no strong feelings about this matter one way or the other, but I do think the reasoning here is worthy of note. Also notable is the way that Mentzer, who provided this issue's answers, mentions that he agrees with "Gary" on this point – another example of the Cult of Gygax that was popularized in the pages of TSR periodicals.

"RPGA Interview with Mike Carr" is exactly what you'd expect: an extensive interview with Mike Carr, who was at this point Executive Vice President of TSR's Manufacturing Division. From my perspective, the interview is quite good, focusing a lot on the early days of both the hobby and TSR. It's also very clear, as if there were any doubt, that Dawn Patrol means a lot to Carr, since he mentions it often in his answers. "Spelling Bee" looks at clerical and druid spells, providing some thoughts on their use in play. Of interest is the following note about know alignment: "Often cast at the beginning of an adventure, it's aimed at 1, 2, or 3 creatures, all of whom (except the Lawful Goods) should retaliate by disrupting the casting, leaving the area quickly, or some other equally rude action."

Gary Gygax offers a very short piece entitled "Notes from the DM," in which he holds forth on the matter of AD&D's one-minute combat round and "detailed combat." All of this old hat to those of us who've seen Gygax discuss this in other places. However, the fact that he needs to keep trying to justify it goes a long way, I think, to explain why it would eventually be abandoned in contemporary versions of the game (and, it should be noted, in Dungeons & Dragons, including the edition that Mentzer himself would develop).

"Campaign Clues" by Corey Koebernick, husband of Jean Wells, offers advice to Top Secret referees (or Administrators) on starting espionage campaigns. Meanwhile, Bill Fawcett's "Ranch Encounters" is a collection of random encounters for use with Boot Hill. One of the upsides of Polyhedron's narrow focus on TSR RPGs is that each issue is likely to contain articles devoted to some of these "lesser" games that my friends and I played. That's something that mattered a lot to me at the time, since Dragon tended not to include many articles of this sort, at least not when I was a regular reader (the day of the Ares Section being a significant exception). 

"Notes for the Dungeon Master" takes a look at higher-level characters. At the start of the article, Frank Mentzer, the author, mentions that "looking at the data we've received from hundreds of DMs worldwide, it seems the average advancement of a character is about 2–3 levels per year." That jibes with my own experience of playing AD&D around this time, though I also recall a few outliers who achieved higher levels, mostly due to being played very often (and perhaps a little greater generosity of XP on my part). 

This issue marks the first appearance of the RPGA Gift Catalog about which I've written before. I still get a kick out of looking at it even now, because it's such a wonderful artifact from the days of D&D's faddishness. "Convention Wrapup" briefly reports all the happenings at various conventions across the USA during the previous months. As one would expect, there's much emphasis on RPGA events, including the winners of tournaments, who are listed by name. I always keep an eye out, to see if I recognize any notable individuals among the winners. Finally, there's Roger Raupp's comic, "Nor." Sadly, the comic continues to plod along without any obvious direction and there's still no follow-up to the crashed spacecraft from its very first installment. 

Oh well, there's always next issue, the very first one I ever owned. 

Polyhedron: Issue #3

Issue #3 of the technically-still-unnamed Polyhedron newsletter (Winter 1981–82) is notable for numerous reasons, starting with the absolutely gorgeous piece of Erol Otus Gamma World art that graces its cover. It's yet another glimpse of an alternate reality where TSR better supported its post-apocalyptic science fantasy game. Of course, the issue is filled with remarkable – and original – illustrations by TSR's stable of artists, so many, in fact, that I'll probably make another post highlighting some of them. 

The issue is double the size of the previous two issues (32 pages), though editor Frank Mentzer mentions that it will return to 16 pages with issue #4. The reason for that is, starting with that issue, the newsletter will appear bimonthly rather than quarterly. Mentzer also announces the establishment of a $1000 RPGA Scholarship Fund to the college-bound RPGA member "with the highest College Entrance Examination Board scores or equivalent thereof." Though I didn't subscribe to Polyhedron until a few issues later, I do remember the announcement of the winner of the scholarship each year.

Issue #3 sees the inauguration of Mentzer's "Where I'm Coming From" column, which he calls "my podium." This first installment isn't all that insightful. It's mostly a paean to the RPGA Network and thanks to readers for the warm response to the newsletter. "Dispel Confusion" continues, though it's no longer credited to a single TSR but simply to "The Game Wizards." As ever, it's an interesting look into the minds of the more rules-obsessed gamers of the early '80s. There's a question about surprise, for example, that brought to light the fact that, in by-the-book AD&D, each segment a character is surprised, he is subject to a full round's worth of attacks – up to five. I can honestly say I have never played the game this way nor have I ever seen anyone else do so, but then it's been long established on this blog that I frequently do it wrong. Oh well!

There is a massive – 7-page – interview with James Ward that is well worth discussing in its own right. Naturally, Ward has a lot to say about Gamma World, among other topics, which is what most interests me, given my lifelong fondness for the game. Dawn Patrol gets two articles devoted to it, the first of which is a report about the results of a tournament at the most recent GenCon. The article includes a turn-by-turn recap of a dogfight between five German and three American planes that ended in a German victory. The second article is another Dawn Patrol by Mike Carr, this time focusing on medals and commendations. Like Gamma World, Dawn Patrol is another game for which I have great fondness, but, unlike GW, I have not played it in decades. One of these years, I may have to fix that.

Don Turnbull's "Turnbull Talking" returns. He devotes himself to the question of just what hit points actually represent, a perennial topic of debate in the old days (and perhaps even nowadays, come to think of it). Michael W. Brunton's "Figure Painting" is just that, a three-page article about the ins and outs of painting figures for use with roleplaying games. Sadly, unlike similar articles in the pages of White Dwarf, no photographs accompany it, which makes the piece a lot less appealing to a painting-impaired reader like myself. Then we get three more pages of "Convention Wrapup," in which the events of GenCon XIV and GenCon East are reported. The focus is naturally on the results of the RPGA AD&D tournaments, as one might expect.

Merle Rasmussen announces a "Top Secret™ Gadget Contest." I'll be curious to see the results of the contest when they're revealed in a later issue. More immediately interesting is the piece of Erol Otus artwork that accompanies the article.

The uncredited "Codebook" is a brief meditation on the use of codes and cyphers in RPGs, followed by four coded messages that are presented as part of a contest for readers to decipher. Later, there's also a Gamma World art contest – there sure are a lot of contests in this issue – in which readers are called upon to illustrate the monsters presented in issue #2 and in this issue. "Mutants: A Continued Sampling of the Weak Ones" by James Ward gives us four more opponents for use with the game. I was (and am) a sucker for stuff like this, so I was happy to see more of it here.

There are more reader-created tricks and traps in "Notes for the Dungeon Master," alongside "Notes from Overseas" by Don Turnbull. Also present is an uncredited full-page article "Spelling Bee" that looks at the use and abuse of the invisibility spell. "Saga of Marnie" by Marnie Bosch is a firsthand account of someone's experiences at GenCon East in July 1981. "Incomplete Convention Schedule '82" is simply a listing of gaming cons for the coming year. I was interested to see that Origins 82 was held in my old hometown of Baltimore that year. I never actually attended Origins until 1991, even though it was often held in and around Baltimore. What can I say? Cons were not a big part of my formative experiences in the hobby (and still aren't, though I should make a stronger effort to change that).

As I said at the beginning, issue #3 of Polyhedron is a significant one, demonstrating that it's already growing and changing in response to its increased readership. Having no direct experience with the RPGA itself, I can't help but wonder how successful it was during the first part of the 1980s. Certainly TSR seems to have placed great stock in it, if Polyhedron is any indication.