Saturday, May 15, 2004
I hate life, and myself.
I have never been, nor will I ever be, a "gamer." Their ways are strange and scary to me, and my distaste for their culture is well-established. Also, let it be known that I'm a hypocrite: who wants a piece of me? Because, despite my professed hatred of all things role-playing, I am well-versed in the art. This is not a case of "know thy enemy", because contrary to certain film projects, I am not engaged in an active crusade to stomp out the blight of role-playing from this fair nation. No, it is simply a by-product of the company I keep. Losers can't go five minutes without talking about a +1 fizzygig of some such crap. Oh, but I kid. I cherish you all...even if you are bottom-feeding dweeb schlubs! Perhaps that is jealousy speaking, for blessed are those that have learned to embrace their loserly ways, and woe unto those such as myself who still hold out pitiful hope that perhaps they're cool. I can't help that I know a thing or two about gaming, as I said, it's simple osmosis. But as long as I don't use that knowledge, everything's still kosher, right? I like to draw parallels with the fire chief in the stage version of Fahrenheit 451, who maintains an enormous library of books but never reads them. (Yes, I just made an argument for my non-nerdiness by referencing the frickin' stage version of Fahrenheit 451. See my earlier statement re: "who wants a piece of me?")
But this is all a personal tangent, and believe it or not, I have a point to make. Nerds have appropriated many works of "cult" literature for the purposes of gaming. Tolkien, of course, forms the rock upon which modern role-playing was built. (I'll wait a moment for you to stop giggling at the conception of nerds "appropriating" Tolkien.) Countless other fantasy and sci-fi novels have been translated into game form, but even more so than the tales of Middle-Earth, these were spawned of nerddom from day one, and can hardly be said to have been "appropriated." The case is shut on this one. It was made by those who are geeks, and those who are geeks keep it. The case is shut. Nevertheless, if one goes far enough back in history, one will find tomes that were written free of the taint of dorkosity. That is not to say that the authors of these works and their fans would not be considered losers by modern standards, but they existed in a world prior to the evolution of the modern nerd, when at best roving fops or dandies could serve as the recipients of pincke-bellyes, Savage burns, and the unmentionably feared chamber pot swirly. Examples of these "olden works" include Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan series, the writings of H. P. Lovecraft, and most importantly for the argument that I'm about to make, Lewis Carroll's Wonderland books. All have entered the geek canon, and it should go without saying that many people role-play in their respective universes. Which brings me, at last, to the point I've been working towards all along: why no love for Edward Lear?
Here is a body of work full of fanciful lands and creatures that practically begs to have dweebs make a game around it. Far from mere limericks, Lear's writings detail a fascinating, if nonsensical, universe populated with all manner of memorable characters, from the Quangle-Wangle to the Clangle-Wangle, and from the Pobble Who Has No Toes to the Dong With The Luminous Nose. Lear's works even contain many of the classic elements of fantasy RPGs, such as a fey, seafaring race (the Jumblies, who sail around in a sieve) and forbidden love between halflings and humans (in the case of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.) This in the 1870s, mind you! Oh, what adventures you could have traipsing about in that wacky, Victorian world. You could have status ailments like "Foss rampant", travel across the great Gromboolian Plain, collect rare herbs like Plumbunnia nutritiosa (one of the entries in Lear's "Nonsense Botany"), and do battle with the likes of the Scroobious Snake and the terrifying Seeze Pyder. Heck, you could easily base entire campaigns on "The Story of the Four Little Children Who Went Round the World."
Person running game: "Party morale is low. Lionel, what do you do?"
Person playing as Lionel: "Stand on one leg and whistle to them in a loud and lively manner."
Person running game: "Party is diverted so extremely that they gradually recover their spirits, and agree that whenever they should reach home they will subscribe towards a testimonial to Lionel, entirely made of Gingerbread and Raspberries, as an earnest token of their sincere and grateful infection."
Some people might argue that unlike the aforementioned novels that people base games on, Lear's bibliography consists entirely of unrelated poems and scraps of doggerel. Fie on that, I say! It's not like the Lovecraft "mythos" is any better, and that's been the basis of some of the most popular RPGs of all time. Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some Lovecraft. That is to say, I really enjoy the works of H. P. Lovecraft. Really. I've been known to correct people's pronunciation of "Cthulhu", for God's sake. But honestly, folks, it's just a random assortment of stories and poems held together by the fact that he repeats himself a lot and uses the same words over and over again. If you replace "eldritch" with "runcible" (and "nameless shambling horrors from depths of time and space man was never meant to probe" with "kittens having tea"), Lovecraft and Lear are practically indistinguishable. Thus, I remain confounded at the lack of attention given the latter. In all likelihood I should be delighted that one of my favorite authors has not been assimilated by the slathering, acne-ridden collective, but part of me feels slighted. Like George, enraged at "not being good enough for the cult", I take this oversight as an insult. What's the matter? Lear not good enough for you? Go, nerds! Go, and draw up stat sheets for +3 runcible spoons! Map the layout of the coast of Coromandel! Determine the hit points of the Plum-Pudding Flea! Do what you were born to do!
Seriously, though, who wants a piece of me? 'Cause I'll take you any day of the week.
I have never been, nor will I ever be, a "gamer." Their ways are strange and scary to me, and my distaste for their culture is well-established. Also, let it be known that I'm a hypocrite: who wants a piece of me? Because, despite my professed hatred of all things role-playing, I am well-versed in the art. This is not a case of "know thy enemy", because contrary to certain film projects, I am not engaged in an active crusade to stomp out the blight of role-playing from this fair nation. No, it is simply a by-product of the company I keep. Losers can't go five minutes without talking about a +1 fizzygig of some such crap. Oh, but I kid. I cherish you all...even if you are bottom-feeding dweeb schlubs! Perhaps that is jealousy speaking, for blessed are those that have learned to embrace their loserly ways, and woe unto those such as myself who still hold out pitiful hope that perhaps they're cool. I can't help that I know a thing or two about gaming, as I said, it's simple osmosis. But as long as I don't use that knowledge, everything's still kosher, right? I like to draw parallels with the fire chief in the stage version of Fahrenheit 451, who maintains an enormous library of books but never reads them. (Yes, I just made an argument for my non-nerdiness by referencing the frickin' stage version of Fahrenheit 451. See my earlier statement re: "who wants a piece of me?")
But this is all a personal tangent, and believe it or not, I have a point to make. Nerds have appropriated many works of "cult" literature for the purposes of gaming. Tolkien, of course, forms the rock upon which modern role-playing was built. (I'll wait a moment for you to stop giggling at the conception of nerds "appropriating" Tolkien.) Countless other fantasy and sci-fi novels have been translated into game form, but even more so than the tales of Middle-Earth, these were spawned of nerddom from day one, and can hardly be said to have been "appropriated." The case is shut on this one. It was made by those who are geeks, and those who are geeks keep it. The case is shut. Nevertheless, if one goes far enough back in history, one will find tomes that were written free of the taint of dorkosity. That is not to say that the authors of these works and their fans would not be considered losers by modern standards, but they existed in a world prior to the evolution of the modern nerd, when at best roving fops or dandies could serve as the recipients of pincke-bellyes, Savage burns, and the unmentionably feared chamber pot swirly. Examples of these "olden works" include Edgar Rice Burroughs' Tarzan series, the writings of H. P. Lovecraft, and most importantly for the argument that I'm about to make, Lewis Carroll's Wonderland books. All have entered the geek canon, and it should go without saying that many people role-play in their respective universes. Which brings me, at last, to the point I've been working towards all along: why no love for Edward Lear?
Here is a body of work full of fanciful lands and creatures that practically begs to have dweebs make a game around it. Far from mere limericks, Lear's writings detail a fascinating, if nonsensical, universe populated with all manner of memorable characters, from the Quangle-Wangle to the Clangle-Wangle, and from the Pobble Who Has No Toes to the Dong With The Luminous Nose. Lear's works even contain many of the classic elements of fantasy RPGs, such as a fey, seafaring race (the Jumblies, who sail around in a sieve) and forbidden love between halflings and humans (in the case of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.) This in the 1870s, mind you! Oh, what adventures you could have traipsing about in that wacky, Victorian world. You could have status ailments like "Foss rampant", travel across the great Gromboolian Plain, collect rare herbs like Plumbunnia nutritiosa (one of the entries in Lear's "Nonsense Botany"), and do battle with the likes of the Scroobious Snake and the terrifying Seeze Pyder. Heck, you could easily base entire campaigns on "The Story of the Four Little Children Who Went Round the World."
Person running game: "Party morale is low. Lionel, what do you do?"
Person playing as Lionel: "Stand on one leg and whistle to them in a loud and lively manner."
Person running game: "Party is diverted so extremely that they gradually recover their spirits, and agree that whenever they should reach home they will subscribe towards a testimonial to Lionel, entirely made of Gingerbread and Raspberries, as an earnest token of their sincere and grateful infection."
Some people might argue that unlike the aforementioned novels that people base games on, Lear's bibliography consists entirely of unrelated poems and scraps of doggerel. Fie on that, I say! It's not like the Lovecraft "mythos" is any better, and that's been the basis of some of the most popular RPGs of all time. Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some Lovecraft. That is to say, I really enjoy the works of H. P. Lovecraft. Really. I've been known to correct people's pronunciation of "Cthulhu", for God's sake. But honestly, folks, it's just a random assortment of stories and poems held together by the fact that he repeats himself a lot and uses the same words over and over again. If you replace "eldritch" with "runcible" (and "nameless shambling horrors from depths of time and space man was never meant to probe" with "kittens having tea"), Lovecraft and Lear are practically indistinguishable. Thus, I remain confounded at the lack of attention given the latter. In all likelihood I should be delighted that one of my favorite authors has not been assimilated by the slathering, acne-ridden collective, but part of me feels slighted. Like George, enraged at "not being good enough for the cult", I take this oversight as an insult. What's the matter? Lear not good enough for you? Go, nerds! Go, and draw up stat sheets for +3 runcible spoons! Map the layout of the coast of Coromandel! Determine the hit points of the Plum-Pudding Flea! Do what you were born to do!
Seriously, though, who wants a piece of me? 'Cause I'll take you any day of the week.
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