THROWBACK THURSDAY: Terminus Turkey For Christmas

My most unexpected Christmas present in 2020 a DVD (and VHS tape) of Terminus, an obscure Karen Allen film I'd been hunting for.

Knowing I was on the lookout for this B-movie from 1987, my best mate Paul had scanned the world for a VHS tape of the film and then he, with an assist from Rachel, had had it transferred to DVD for my enjoyment.

While my expectations for the movie were tempered by the obvious "80s-ness" of its Mad Max-style narrative, I was still excited by the prospect of viewing a genre movie starring my first - and most enduring - celebrity crush.

Imagine you were a massive Janet Leigh fan in the 1960s and you'd heard of her new film, Psycho...

That's exactly the bait-and-switch that Terminus pulls. Spoilers for a three decades old B-movie, but Karen's character, Gus, gets killed off at the end of the first act.

But there's nothing Hitchcockian about Terminus, and, anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Picture an ill-defined, possibly post-apocalyptic 2037. America seems to have been divided up into different countries or something, but, anyway, there's this new "game" that features a truck driver being deposited in a random location and then having to take their rig west to "the end of the line"... for reasons.

Gus (Karen Allen) is driving one such big rig, but is being assisted by a freaky computer system that communicates through a disturbing interface that manifests as a rubbery human mouth operated by metallic rods.

Surely only a masochistic pervert would design a computer interface like this? Not a child...

This computer, Monster, was programmed by a child genius, Mati (Gabriel Damon), as a way to prove his worth to some super-shady subterranean scientists, fronted by The Doctor (Jürgen Prochnow, of In The Mouth of Madness, the truest Lovecraftian horror yet committed to celluloid).

There's a whole sub-plot/theme about cloning here with The Doctor as well as one of the major henchvillains, The Driver of The Yellow Truck, being clones of the "unseen" big boss, Sir.

As an aside, the Yellow Truck can turn itself invisible... but that major scientific breakthrough gains no traction in the story.

Mati the boy genius is a clone as well. Is he meant to be a young Jürgen Prochnow? I like to think so, but who knows.

Anyway Gus, being chased by government forces (aka Greys) and having crashed her way through an innocent civilian village en route, ends up captured by some rando thugs and thrown into prison with one-handed tough guy Stump (Johnny Hallyday). 

They fall in love. Naturally. 

Gus gets taken away by these minor league baddies and tortured, but not really tortured. She dies anyway, having bequeathed her truck to Stump (who she'd met the night before).

Stump - having nothing better to do - then opts to finish "the game", with escaped slave, Princess (Julie Glenn), as his co-pilot. This little girl, co-incidentally, is Mati's "sister" and another clone.

Terminus is so 1980's sci-fi it hurts. A mess of dreadful dialogue, lurching from cliché to just plain nonsense, brutal editing that makes events just happen rather than adeptly segueing into them, and creaky special effects make this a drinking game waiting to happen.

Superficially, it's trying to remake 1981's Mad Max II: The Road Warrior with the resources of Mad Max.

A jumble of seemingly undeveloped plot threads woven through with some vehicle stunts and half-hearted fight scenes make a hilariously bad - but nonetheless enjoyable in its awfulness - movie.

And it all builds up to a Deathstalker-style climax where Sir declares he is escaping to somewhere no one can touch him and promptly explodes for no readily explainable reason.

Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted that I got to see Terminus.

There are certainly elements of this 85-minute French-German co-production that could have elevated it above its trashy period peers: such as the whole cloning sub-plot that, as is, is just colour but could have gone in interesting directions.

I also, kind of, reluctantly, admire the bait-and-switch with Gus. As limply as it is executed.

But conversely, it's also rather insulting that even more open-minded European filmmakers didn't believe audiences could handle a post-Raiders of The Lost Ark Karen Allen as the action lead of a sci-fi movie.

What we see of Gus - right up until she, bizarrely, steps out of her truck to face the army of hoodlums who bar the road to her - is really spunky and engaging.

More so, I would say, than uncharismatic French rock-and-roller Johnny Hallyday, sporting a Billy Idol hairdo and possibly some ill-defined cinematic PTSD. 

By no definition of the term could Terminus be considered a good film, but I'm still deliriously happy to have it now in my collection.

Primarily for the Karen Allen-ness of it (all be it rather truncated), but also because it's so totally bonkers (some of which can be attributed to its translation into English, no doubt) that it will stay with me way longer than a lot of the current cookie cutter Hollywood fare that gets churned out.

Among all its randomness, it's also worth noting that Terminus boasts a theme tune by none other than the legendary Stan Ridgway (of Camouflage fame), which was a nice surprise.

My Christmas present from Paul

THROWBACK THURSDAY: The Majesty of Dungeness

Visiting an open studio at Dungeness, out front was their 'grave yard' of old tools

Back in 2018, Rachel and I celebrated our wedding anniversary with a short getaway to the coast, with Alice, staying at the hotel we'd stayed at for my 50th birthday.

On our actual anniversary, we visited Dungeness... and I fell in love. It's now giving Wales a run for its money as my dream retirement venue. And I hope to get back there as part of my 60th birthday celebrations.

An isolated headland, consisting largely of pebble beaches, adjacent to the iconic Dungeness Nuclear Power Stations, there's a Portmeirion-level quirkiness to the homes that dot the area, an idiosyncratic blend of cutting edge architecture, tumble-down Victorian fishing huts and 1930s chalets.

The whole area has an atmospheric cinematic bleakness, reminiscent of the alien gravel pits of classic era Doctor Who or the weird science of Simon Stålenhag’s Tales From The Loop, that encourages eccentricity in its inhabitants.

It must be haunted, right? A totally round house would be interesting to decorate.
Also, note the wild rabbit resting in the grass in front of the wall.

It's no wonder it has a thriving artistic community and was, famously, the home of visionary director and artist Derek Jarman.

There's no phone signal and no wi-fi, even our satnav went a bit bananas as we were trying to find the car park for the railway station - the end of the line of the world-famous Romney Hythe & Dymchurch small railway.

Some people would say that "bleak" was a negative, pejorative, term to use for the area - but I would say that was all part of its stark, soul-shivering charm.

I took a number of photographs, but not many of the actual houses there as I felt awkward about snapping pictures of private property where people were living. And they don't really go in for many fences around their homes, they're just 'there' among the pebble expanse.

If you like places that give you goosebumps because you feel you're walking on a different planet (or, at least, an inventive facsimile of one from a retro sci-fi movie) then Dungeness is a place you need to visit.

You can read more about the geography of the area here at Wikipedia.

Doubling-down on the atmosphere, the area was shrouded in mist when we arrived.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Traveller

Loved this book so much that having worn out my original copy, I bought a second

I've spoken many times about one of the greatest roleplaying campaigns I was ever privileged enough to take part in: Nick's legendary multi-season Traveller game that began during our years together at school.

However, it wasn't Nick that actually introduced me to this beautifully streamlined games system, but rather Steve Grover, the teenaged mentor who'd opened my eyes to the delights of RPGs years before.

But just because I saw myself as a "bit of a writer" and was slinging dice with some wildly creative and incredibly smart people didn't mean my own contributions were that great or original.

I have a vivid memory of one of my earliest Traveller characters being called Boba Fett and being, essentially, the mysterious bounty hunter from The Empire Strikes Back (which was the freshest bit of Star Wars at the time).

The other day I was sorting out my old Traveller books and came across my original copy of Judges Guild's The Traveller Logbook (a brilliant collection of blank forms and random tables), which contained a character sheet for a PC that had totally slipped my mind: the imaginatively named Zephod Beeblebrox of America(!!!).

I definitely had "problems" with conjuring up sci-fi names back in the day (not saying I'm any better now, but these days I can do it "ironically").

The fact that old Zephod has a big red "X" over his sheet suggests he died during some escapade, which I have no record of.

However, his scrawled backstory - which mentions "being stranded on Jupiter for two years" - suggests this was a more Earth-centric game than the traditional Traveller set-up.

While I may have spent a lot of pre-secondary school years scratching together underground lairs and haunted islands for my friends to explore in Dungeons & Dragons, I think the elegance of Traveller's mechanics allowed for simple solo play more.

Hell, even rolling up a character in the original rules was pretty much an adventure itself... with PC death being a real possibility before you even grubbed up a seedy mission to earn yourself some credits. 

Sadly, I can't find any records of these chaotic, freeform Traveller games I ran for myself, although I suspect most involved shooting bad guys and trying to look 'Boba Fett cool' while doing it.

Then, Nick showed Pete, his brother Steve, and I how great a Traveller campaign could be.

Of course, I still played a borderline psychopath with a gun fetish, but mainly I enjoyed simply being in a group of gamers who were all invested in the wonderful universe our gamesmaster was weaving for us.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Two Great Tastes, One Great Flavour

One of the many ways that Knights of The Dinner Table has resonated with me through the years is the characters' (and creator Jolly Blackburn's) unwavering love for Hawk The Slayer.

The film is frequently referenced in the comic strips, particularly by hardcore gamers Dave and Bob.

Sarah: I thought you guys loved The Lord of the Rings movies.

Bob: Hey, don't get us wrong. Lord of the Rings is great, but let's be honest. It's no Hawk the Slayer.

Dave: Hawk the Slayer is based on sound role-playing principles. Lord of the Rings just got it wrong.

- Knights of the Dinner Table, Special Edition #2, Paperhack Writer

I was a particularly happy geek when, during the build-up to the (sadly failed) Kickstarter for Hawk The Hunter, I was able to put one of the film's producers in touch with Jolly, to arrange an interview with writer/director Terry Marcel to plug the crowdfunding campaign.

Apropos of nothing in particular, I came across this fine piece of artwork by Steven Cummings for the cover of Knights of the Dinner Table #215, from 2014.

In his comments about the cover, Jolly wrote:

"When Steven Cummings asked if he could do a Hawk the Slayer tribute cover for us, I tripped over myself rushing to the keyboard to respond, “HELLYES!!”. I love the resulting piece. The Knights would be both thrilled and PROUD."

THROWBACK THURSDAY: A Game Changer!

Before Bushido (the first RPG set in feudal Japan)was published by FGU (Fantasy Games Unlimited), an edition was published in 1980 by Phoenix Games (and it turns out there was even an iteration before that as well).

It was this Phoenix Games version that a classmate called Dan Chambers ran for me, Nick, and several others at school.

I played a ninja (of course!), who in a flash of inspiration cooked up a plan (I can't remember the exact details now), that essentially reframed the mission he'd been assigned and used it to fuel a nationwide war.

Then through my crafty manipulation of politicians and warlords all this ultimately led to my character or, more likely, someone of his choice, being named shōgun!

What I do remember is Dan, a very canny and knowledgeable chap, looking over my plan and declaring that he couldn't find fault with it.

At that moment, it dawned on me - and has stuck with me - that one of the the great things about roleplaying games, that can't be emulated in any other games, is that you can think outside the box.

Just because you're on a quest for X doesn't mean to say all your character's actions have to be laser-focused on achieving X, when you have ideas about achieving Y and Z as well.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: HAWK THE SIGNATURES!

Earlier this year I talked about the magic of signed items, but among my small collection of such I have an old paperback that I now consider priceless.

Here follows the two-stage yarn of what makes it so.

First, we must travel back through the mists of time to 2011, when rumours started circulating that the writer/director of 1980's Hawk The Slayer (the greatest Dungeons & Dragons movie of all time), Terry Marcel, was - finally - seeking funding for the long-awaited sequel, Hawk The Hunter.

Sadly, we know what became of that, but I'm jumping ahead.

Although my memories of what transpired are hazy these days, I know that because I had written voluminously and passionately about Hawk The Slayer online for years I somehow got in contact with one of the producers for the planned sequel.

And he offered to get my old copy of the novelisation (which Terry was also co-author, with script partner Harry Robertson, of) signed by Terry Marcel himself.

I'll confess I was anxious about mailing the book away. Purchasing it when I was a youngster is one of my few, remaining solid memories from those days. 

But the producer was true to his word and got Terry to sign it. Not just sign it, as you can see above, but also inscribe the opening text of the movie.

Then, four years later, in the build-up to the film-funding Kickstarter, my producer-contact wove his magic again, asking me if I'd like the coolest elf in cinema history, Crow aka actor Ray Charleson (pictured below, holding The Mindsword), to also sign my book?

Again, I was slightly anxious about mailing the book off. Not that my contact wouldn't come through, but that something would happen to it in the post.

And, again, I needn't have worried. Everything went as promised.

As I said  earlier, my memory may not be what it used to be, yet I can still vividly recall buying that book in WH Smiths in Tunbridge Wells. It was dark and I'd popped in after school on the way to catching the bus home. I was 15 and the book cost the grand sum of one pound.

Who'd have thought that one day it would be priceless?

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Following The Whispering Road Made Us All Both Storytellers and Gamers

Back at the tail end of 2018, the Tuesday Knights (our tabletop roleplaying gaming group) did something unusual: something that goes against my zealous protection of our precious, limited gaming slots. We played a one-shot. And I really enjoyed it. I mean I really, really enjoyed it. 

I'm still quite adamant that while we are bound to "one gaming session a month" (meaning a maximum of 12 a year, and we rarely achieve that for sundry health, family, and work reasons) I would rather play (or run) something with the potential to become an open-ended "forever campaign".

However, let's flashback to December 20, 2018, and see what I wrote in my gaming log:

This week's RPG session with the Tuesday Knights could, possibly, have proved to be a game-changer.

It was our first exposure to a so-called "storytelling game" - Brent Newhall's The Whispering Road - and I was anxious about getting my head around playing a game devoid of such traditional mechanical trappings as character statistics, hit points, armour class, experience points, equipment lists etc

Instead, our character's were made up of a number of traits (some were personality quirks, others minor abilities or powers) and a "need".

Further taking us out of our comfort zone, there was no definitive setting for the game and it didn't even require a gamesmaster!

Clare, whose game it was, took the role of "Architect", meaning she framed the story and set the scene, while Pete was nominated as "Driver", making it his job to ensure the story kept moving and we didn't get bogged down in rules discussions or non-gaming distractions (not, it turned out, that he needed to worry about that because we all quickly got on board with The Whispering Road).

Beforehand, via our super-secret Facebook group, Clare had nudged us to create a setting for the game: and we cooked up a snow-bound Medieval land (which in play veered between Celtic and Norse) where saints and demons walked the land, and everyone had a pet mouse as a companion.

Our characters were:

• Ceitlen (Pete) - first born daughter of the chieftain, guardian of the clan's symbolic magical shield, whose motivation was protecting the shield and what it stood for (ie. the community);
• Torg (me) - third born (second son) of the chieftain, a trickster and troublemaker, who wanted to prove that he could be as good a hero as Ceitlen;
• Glau (Kevin) - a miserable farmer, gifted with a magical spade and the ability to see the future, who just wanted the snow to stop;
• Master Mouse (Erica) - the custodian of the clan's mice, and a mentor to all, who wanted people to listen to her advice;
• Sister Prudence (Clare) - a nun and fanatical follower of Little St Therese (patron saint of mice), who sought to stem the rising tide of secularism in the village.

After everyone described their typical day in the village, the story began with Glau coming to the chieftain with dire warnings that the snows were getting worse.

The village was whipped up into a frenzy, and, led by an army of mice to clear a path, headed up into the mountains to find the cause of the supernaturally worsening weather.

After being ambushed by dire wolves (not common in these 'ere parts), the bulk of the village were sent home for their own protection, leaving our small group of heroes to carry on.

I stumbled upon an old ruin (Torg, as a "rascal", had more traits than anyone else and these included a couple of doses of "dumb luck" as well as being the group's "magic-user"), from where we headed to an ice cave that actually turned out to be a frost giantess called Midhilda.

Before we knew this, she had rolled a giant boulder at us, which had crushed Ceitlen's shield and shattered it in to three pieces.

While the others were determined to talk to the giantess, Torg transformed into a mouse and started to scuttle up her leg, with a typically Viking-esque bloody plan in mind to kill her (thinking he would be saving the village that way and proving himself).

However, Master Mouse called out to him to stop because they had discovered that she was simply looking for her giant boyfriend Jordmund.

Unfortunately, giants' sense of time isn't the same as ours and we discovered he'd passed through this area hundreds of years ago.

During the conversation, she also revealed that her oversized enchanted sword had been shattered, and Torg suggested that he could magically repair it using one of the fragments of Ceitlen's shield.

Ceitlen, already upset over the loss of the shield (despite Master Mouse explaining to her that it was only a symbol and she was still protecting the community), was initially not happy about this.

But then she came round to the idea and tried to claim it as her own, much to Torg's annoyance. He lost his rag, which - in turn - freaked out the giant (who couldn't handle extreme's of human emotion) and so Master Mouse and Sister Prudence had to calm down Midhilda and Torg.

Assisted by a small coterie of mice summoned by Prudence, Torg then wove the pieces of shield and sword together with some colourful sorcerous hand gestures, and went on to proudly explain that this was also forging a bond between the frost giants and our village.

And, boy, was he feeling smug about all this... right up until the point where Midhilda declared that her new magical sword would be named after Ceitlen.

Torg's jaw hit the floor (and everyone - including me - around the table roared with laughter).

In return, Midhilda handed Ceitlen with a large fragment from her old broken sword, which could be reforged into a new shield.

We all returned to the village, satisfied that our story arcs had been achieved, the magical snows had eased, and Midhilda had opened a new pass through the mountains for us.

Writing up the adventure primarily from Torg's POV and my recollections, I haven't really done the evening's game justice.

It was a surprisingly layered escapade, with everyone's actions dictated by whether they were satisfying their own character's needs or those of others in the group.

When you're not spending 20 minutes on a fight sequence, it frees up time for character development and The Whispering Road was all about co-operation and working together to achieve our goals (even when they were pulling us in opposite directions).

Although I'm not a fan of listening to "actual play" recordings, part of me wishes I'd recorded the evening on my phone to release as a podcast.

From the initial group world-building, through the speedy character creation, right up to the hilarious climax of the story and the satisfying denouement, this really was a game unlike any we've played before.

I've always been fascinated by the simple idea of characters who are related by blood somehow, and the dynamic of Pete's Ceitlen  and my Torg unfolded brilliantly as both of us tried to one-up each other: Ceitlen with her strength and charisma, Torg with his tricksiness.

Unintentionally, as Kevin pointed out, this developed into a perfect Thor/Loki dynamic.

The whole adventure was contained to a single, two-and-a-half hour session, but - because the game was structured into scenes (with prompts for The Architect) and acts - the story we freestyled together really felt as though it came together like a movie.

I backed The Whispering Road on Kickstarter, in early 2014, on behalf of Nick and Clare, thinking it might make an interesting introductory RPG for my godson Alec (it's inspired by Studio Ghibli films, which Clare is a great fan of, and doesn't revolve around killing things that look different to you and then stealing their stuff).

Little did I realise that it would actually serve as The Tuesday Knights' introduction to the weird and wonderful world of Story Games!

I was so impressed by The Whispering Road and the story-crafting techniques the game subtly deployed throughout, as well as Clare's first stint at running a roleplaying game for adults (as opposed to her children).

There were simple dice-rolling mechanics for resolving conflicts (for instance, in a fight the roll would say whether you won or lost, not dictate a blow-by-blow account of the battle), complementing the system's aim of creating a thematic narrative, driven by the characters' needs and desires.

We weren't restricted - or bound - by the rules, in fact they encouraged our creativity and communal storytelling skills.

What's happening to us? Are we becoming New Age gamers? Are we waving goodbye to the Old School Renaissance and becoming Story Game aficionados?

I think it's a bit early to be binning all our d20 rulebooks, but I can definitely see us returning to The Whispering Road.

The evening ended with talks of a 'sequel movie' to our adventure, but, as much as I really liked all the characters the Tuesday Knights had cooked up, my mind was racing towards other settings and environments I'd love to explore via the game's very open mechanics.

It was a shame Simon was unable to make our final gathering of 2018, as it was a grand send-off to another fine year of gaming.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: The Tea Room At Pooh Corner

I've found my people... just leave me here!

I can't believe it's been over three-and-a-half years since we've visited Pooh Corner.

It was supposed to have been a well-earned Spring Break for Rachel, but we'd gotten tangled up in a mess of time-sapping medical appointments.

Eventually, after a morning of medical check-ups for the both of us, and a couple of laps with Alice around the Tonbridge recreation ground, we decided to seize the day and head out to Hartfield, on the edge of the Ashdown Forest, for a Winnie The Pooh adventure.

Our first stop was Pooh Corner in Hartfield's High Street, where we managed to snag a parking spot right outside the front door (there's no car park there, so it's pot luck finding on-street parking).

Formerly the village sweet shop (and Christopher Robin's getaway from the pressure of being a young celebrity and the constant press intrusion in his life), the building has now been converted into an incredible tea room and Pooh'seum (a well-stocked museum chronicling the creation of the Pooh stories and everything that spun out of that).

Alice was a massive hit in the tea room, with the staff, owner, and other visitors. I can't remember a time when she's had so much attention from strangers. It was adorable to see both grown-ups and children lavishing affection on here.

Everything in the tea room is Winnie The Pooh-themed, from the plates and tea pots to the table numbers.

The food was incredible... and got the Knight Family seal of approval. We probably ate too much. But, so what? We were on holiday!

EVERYTHING was Pooh-themed!!!

After filling our tummies, Pooh-style, we hopped back in the car and drove into the forest (aka The Hundred Acre Wood), found a car park and then set off into the trees, following the signs to "Bridge".

Our goal was to see the legendary Pooh Sticks Bridge, probably one of the most iconic locations in children's literature.

It was quite a downhill hike and Rachel was concerned I might not be able to make it back up the hill afterwards, but I was driven both by the spirit of 'carpe diem' and a deep-seated desire to visit this iconic bridge for the first time in many, many decades.

There were plenty of people on the path, heading in both directions, and we were expecting the bridge to be rammed when got there.

But by some miracle once we arrived it was just us for about five or 10 minutes, so we had a chance to take pictures and explore.

The only real error we made was not bringing any 'Pooh sticks' as the area around the bridge was, unsurprisingly, barren of fallen twigs.

But to be honest that didn't matter. It was just magical to be walking in the footsteps of Christopher Robin, Winnie The Pooh, Roo, Kanga, Eeyore, Rabbit etc

As expected the journey back up the steep hill was harder and slower, but there are wooden seats along the way making for suitable rest stops and as long as we stayed in the shade (not always possible) it wasn't too hot.

From the company, the food, the adoration of Alice to walking in The Hundred Acre Wood and standing on Pooh Sticks Bridge, this was one of the best days out we'd had in ages, which is why I'm surprised we haven't gone back.

Sure the walking was hard at times, but I never felt as though I would pass out or be taken ill as is often the case on such escapades.

 Instead, I came home tired and content, fired up for future adventures.

Bring your own Pooh Sticks, as none will be found within the environs of the bridge

On the return journey we spotted the entrance to Owl's house up in a tree

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Philately Will Get You Everywhere

Back in early 2021, when I was indulging in research for whatever my fantasy roleplaying game idea of the moment was, I found myself drawn back to the wonderful workings of the late, great Sir Terry Pratchett.

While I'm sure many of you are already aware of the official Discworld Emporium, a recent email from there caught my eye, promoting a new set of Discworld stamps from the The Ankh-Morpork Post Office (AMPO).

The souvenir set, for the Year of The Beleaguered Badger, was only only a fiver, with very reasonable shipping fees, and I immediately thought these would be a great addition to my 'cabinet of curiosities' (but, most definitely, not the start of a 'fantasy philately' hobby).

Upon ordering, the stamps arrived incredibly swiftly, but the fun started even before I opened the envelope.

Check it out above, and marvel at the dedication to verisimilitude: it even came with AMPO stamps on the envelope, and 'in universe' franking.

Inside, the receipt for the purchase of my stamps was also a miniature work of art, from The Thieves' Guild:

As a child in the '70s, I was never really into 'stamp collecting', although I do remember owning an album with a random selection from around the globe stuck in.

However, I have to admit that adding the whole magical Discworld angle to the hobby does make it feel rather more appealing, more 'on brand' for me.

Of course, the more I dug into the stamp section of the Emporium's website, the more dangerous (to my wallet, and possibly my sanity) I realised this rabbit hole was becoming.

Anyway, here's a better look at the selection of stamps that I got from the website, as I'm too nervous to open my own packet, for fear of losing or damaging one, or all, of them:

THROWBACK THURSDAY: The Whole World Is A Sourcebook!

As a creative, gaming-obsessed, pre-teen I sat in my corduroy shorts in prep school assembly seeking inspiration from the hymns we sang... just what was the to hit/damage bonus of a "bow of burning gold", what effect did "arrows of desire" have and just how fast was a "chariot of fire"?

In 1977, as well as discovering Star Wars, I had been introduced to Dungeons & Dragons and the whole world was suddenly "research material".

Everywhere I looked there were potential magic items or monsters for characters to contend with in dungeons drawn from every imaginable source.

My prep school co-dungeoneer, Tom, even ran me through a D&D adventure based on the first season of The Hitchhikers' Guide To The Galaxy (a radio serial he had introduced me to and also had a major impact on my life).

Television and books (particularly the sword and sorcery tales of Fritz Leiber, and a little later Harry Turtledove's first Elabon stories - Wereblood and Werenight) shaped many adventures and characters in those early years; then later comic books became a major source of inspiration as our games moved away from straight fantasy into the four-colour world of superheroes.

From these I still have three comic book standards that I would one day love to weave into a single, long-running roleplaying game: time travel, alternate dimensions, and cosmic entities.

Yet somehow, even in the games I've run for the Tuesday Knights in the past couple of decades, I have yet to squeeze all three of them in successfully; feeling that a campaign needs to progress at a steady pace for a considerable length of time before such contrasting, incredible elements can have their full, desired impact when introduced.

That said, all three feature heavily in The Sailor on The Seas of Fate, the second of Michael Moorcock's Elric books.

Even dreamier, more surreal and more psychedelic than Elric of Melniboné, this 190-page delight had me joining Elric on a ship sailing a strange ocean that linked not just islands, but worlds and planes of existence in time and space.

In a series of three adventures, Elric discovers he is but one face of The Eternal Champion, travelling to the Earth's future with three other incarnations of the Champion (Hawkmoon, Corum and Erekose) to battle two universe-threatening alien magicians; then he finds himself being chased by a Melnibonean sorcerer from history and swept up in a mythical love story; before finally taking a Heart of Darkness-style river journey to the legendary, lost birth place of his people.

These stories continue to leave me breathless, blown away by the absorbing text, the clever imagery and mental stimuli they spark in my enfeebled brain.

It also made me appreciate, perhaps, why I have never successfully tackled such cosmic themes as I desire to in my roleplaying games - they are best left to the master storytellers!

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Kickin' It Old School!

Supreme fantasy author Michael Moorcock admired pulp maven Robert E Howard's brutal barbarian Conan so much that when he set out to create his own swords and sorcery epic he wanted it to be as unlike the tales of the Cimmerian as possible.

And so, he created Elric: the doomed, feeble, albino sorcerer-king kept alive by, first, mysterious narcotics and later by the evil energy of his cursed sword, Stormbringer.

When I last reread the first of the Elric books - Elric of Melnibone - it took just about two days, I still couldn't put it down.

A combination of my insomnia and the power of the writing saw me reading at all hours of the day and night.

Moorcock proves you don't need a ponderous, phonebook-sized tome to tell a thrilling, memorable fantasy tale.

In a 'mere' 190-pages Elric goes from languishing on his Ruby Throne to dealing with elemental creatures, fighting off an invasion, crossing the Young Kingdoms to find his kidnapped sweetheart and finally journeying to another plane of existence to retrieve Stormbringer at the behest of the Chaos demon-god Aroich.

Outside of Tolkien's main Lord of The Rings' characters and Conan himself, Elric and his legendary sword must be two of the best known names in fantasy literature... their dreamy, nightmarish adventures seeping into all manner of related media (e.g. heavy influences on early roleplaying games from Dungeons & Dragons and Arduin to Chaosium's own Stormbringer game; to the prominent technomage in Babylon 5 universe called... Elric).

And next year, we're getting three different new Elric roleplaying games: one for Dragonbane, one for Dungeon Crawl Classics, and one for 5e!

Reading Elric of Melnibone again stirred in me nostalgic memories for the other books of my youth - Fritz Leiber's Nehwon tales with Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser or Harry Turtledove's stories of Gerin The Fox - and the old school fantasy roleplaying games of my teen years.

It filled me with a hankering for that '80s Dungeons & Dragons-style vibe, that feeling of wonder and "not knowing what's around the next corner".

To quote Wikipedia:

"Some fans of pencil and paper role playing games use [old school] to describe RPGs characterized by simple game mechanics and flexible rules. The character generation system in such RPGs tend to lack extensive lists of skills and abilities. Basic Dungeons & Dragons and the first edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons are often considered 'old school' role playing games."

All this hankering for past gaming glories was also been stoked back in the 2000's by several great rules-lite, war story-heavy fantasy gaming podcasts I listened to at the time. Sadly, these are now gone - swept aside by the tidal wave of "actual play" podcasts.

The pods I listened to eschewed the attitude of some of the more snobby or 'elitist' podcasts back then which looked down their virtual noses at "game stories" or the "tell me about your character" attitude.

Personally I believe that's a central element of roleplaying games - you are generating collective stories, so why not share them? Isn't this just another form of creating fantasy literature?

As long as the stories are interesting, they are as valid as any other anecdote you may care to tell.

THROWBACK THURSDAY: Anya Taylor-Joy

The announcement this week that the queen of genre flicks, Anya Taylor-Joy has been cast in the upcoming Lord of The Rings spin-off movie, The Hunt For Gollum, as Seren, a Sindar elf, reminded of a piece I wrote on an earlier blog when I "discovered" her.

What makes me particularly proud about the following article, posted on October 6, 2017, under the banner headline Remember This Name..., was that I had never written such an article before, or since.

I had never been so engaged by the collective body of a performer's work (who wasn't already a household name). There was just some rare, indefinable magic about Anya that shone out, shouting "this woman is a star".

The text below, from almost nine years ago, is the exact text (and photograph) from the original article, posted on my earlier, now deceased, blog.

Anya Taylor-Joy

Many young actors cut their teeth on genre roles, particularly low-budget horror parts, before making their names in "more respectable" fields of acting.

But Anya Taylor-Joy is proving to have a gift for genre roles.

The 21-year-old has already had memorable lead roles in Split, Morgan, and, of course, The Witch, and is scheduled to return as Casey Cooke in M Night Shyamalan's Glass (the sequel to Unbreakable and Split) in 2019, after a turn as Illyana Rasputin aka Magik in next year's X-Men: The New Mutants.

None of these are low-budget schlockfests; these are mainstream movies.

Remember her name and where you read it today. Anya Taylor-Joy is a future megastar. I'm calling it now, so in years to come you can tune your wayback machines to this post and say "he was right, you know, he was right!"

For instance, her most recent performance - as Casey, in Split - reminded me of Kacey Rohl's pivotal role as Abigail Hobbs in the greatest TV show ever, Hannibal. Rohl has gone on to carve a niche for herself in genre TV with enduring characters in Arrow, The Magicians and Wayward Pines (the M. Night Shyamalan-produced mystery sci-fi show).

Here's hoping great genre roles continue to drop in the lap of the talented Taylor-Joy and that eventually she might even land a character she can become synonymous with - like Hugh Jackman with Wolverine.

But whatever happens, I just hope she continues making amazing movies!