Cauldron Day 0: Logistics & Intel

Alright…are we done with the sentimentality? Let’s get down to brass tacks. 

Cauldron 2026 was the largest, most ambitious Cauldron yet outside (perhaps) the first one. 2023 featured two-and-a-half days of gaming (five game blocks/sessions) with roughly 50 participants. 2024 had a handful more players, and three+ days planned, of which the final day was abruptly cancelled (seven game blocks total). Last year, the new venue accommodated 80+ participants over another 2.5 days and six game blocks. This year? Around 90 participants (including con organizers, many of whom had the chance to sit in on games) over nearly four full days and nine gaming blocks.

I was quite afraid I might incinerate by the end of the thing.

My original idea was to use the extended format to run a mini-campaign: nine linked adventures set in my home campaign, using the same pre-generated PCs, with scenarios designed to take them from levels 3rd up to 14th. To accomplish this, I would take advantage of the (untimed) night blocks to run extra-long (i.e. more than 4+ hour time blocks) and get characters extra levels. The capper would be a high level extravaganza that’s been in the back of my mind for roughly 45 years.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…I decided I’d register my boy (nearly 16 at the moment) for the convention and bring him along. It was, I deemed, time to bring him into the fold. Besides I was quite inspired by all the young people I’d seen in 2025…he was as old as many of these kids (and older than some). And Germany, being one of my favorite countries in the world…well, it was time to share the experience with him. Before he had a chance to grow too old for such “silly games.”

; )

And Diego wanted to play with me…as in play as player with me by his side. Of course, we were also BOTH interested in Chainmail (my boy’s love of wargaming is at least equal to mine, even if he’s less inclined to the painting part of the hobby). As I started to see the gaming blocks fill, and as I realized that six months was a tad ambitious to write and prep nine adventures (including, of course, yet another installment of the annual “Blackrazor Tournament Cup”), I started modifying my planned agenda.

I would run five adventures: four original adventures plus the tourney scenario. Everything would be in the four-hour range; no linked campaign scenarios (although I would use the same pre-gens for the non-tourney adventures, just set at different experience levels. Call it ‘for the sake of expedience’).

AH…still: easier said than done. Between my normal busy-ness and the regular interruptions that are simply a part of daily life, it was a near thing to even complete the five adventures I’d planned/slated for the con. The tournament adventure itself (which I will discuss in a future blog post) was a bear to write (no pun intended!). After months of dicking around with it, I got it finished sometime in late July/early August…soon enough that I could playtest it on Orcas and get the final draft mailed out to the DMs by September. Only at THAT point was able to get to my other new, (mostly) original adventures.

Four-to-five-ish weeks, in other words. If people were wondering “what happened to that B/X blogger guy” when he all-but-disappeared in the month of September…well, that’s what.

But I got it done, not least of which helped was helped by my coming down with a sickness (passed to me by my daughter and/or all her sniffling teammates on the soccer team). Last weekend, the weekend before Cauldron…it feels like two years ago…I was flat on my back and isolated in the guest room for nearly 48 hours. Fortunately, I had already finished my maps, so I used the time to write, write, write. As I said, I got it done, ahead of my Wednesday plane reservation.

And then, on Monday, my son got sick.

And I mean, he was REALLY sick. Bad fever, the whole nine yards. He came home from school Monday and went straight to bed. Didn’t go to school Tuesday or Wednesday. We took it right up till thirty minutes before we had to leave for the airport. Fever of 102.8. Standing him up, walking him around, getting him a hot shower, tea, soup, fresh air, sunshine…nothing. He had the dead eyes and miserable catatonic look of a person who couldn’t even stand without help. I made the call: he was staying home. The look of disappointment in his face was nearly as heart-breaking as his general state of health: “This is Papa’s last time going back to Germany and I’m going to miss it!”

I promised him that I WOULD return for a future Cauldron and I that I would make certain he DID accompany me.

The last thing I did before grabbing my Uber to SeaTac was to send a DM to Settembrini (Cauldron’s head honcho/organizer) informing him of the situation. I had no concern for a refund, but I wanted to make sure that, if possible, the next person on the waiting list was allowed access. Cauldron, after all, deserves to be shared.

The plane travel itself was largely uneventful. The available movies were all terrible or things I’d already seen (or, in some cases, both). Mostly, I used the time to try to catnap (attempting to get ahead of the jet lag), organize treasure lists on my laptop (for ease of calculating experience points post-game) or reading the many possible Chainmail scenarios that I might be taking part in.

This last deserves elaboration: Chainmail, the precursor and inspiration for the original D&D ruleset has been a mostly dead game since the 1970s, outside of (possibly) Midwest wargaming clubs (assuming such things still exist). I own a PDF copy and have studied it as a matter of historical interest; I’ve even written some supplemental rules for it (as part of my NAP III adventure, Dragon Wrack). But while I’m aware of retroclones and “updates” to the original Chainmail rules (LWAS’s “Platemail,” anyone?) I am unaware of anyone regularly playing this particular “medieval wargame.” After all, Warhammer is still a thing right (what edition are we on? 12th?).

OUTSIDE OF GERMANY, that is. Oh, those crazy Germans! Of course it’s the Germans who, over the last few years, have revived Chainmail in their own gaming club(s), bonding their love of wargaming with their love of the (older) D&D hobby tradition and making it a regular part of their campaign play. Nexus…the German gaming club behind Cauldron…has taken to this old gaming set with gusto…playing it, practicing it, clarifying and editing it to make it a living breathing integral part of their gaming culture. In four years of Cauldron, there has been Chainmail at every single one. Last year, I participated in my first Chainmail battle. This year, I had been required to pre-register (along with my son) as a two-person team in what was being billed as the First World Cup Chainmail Championship. Heady stuff indeed!

But I hadn’t even had the opportunity to read the Sarisa rules (their two-volume rules compilation/adaptation) nor any of the tournament scenarios that would be part of this 'World Cup.' My 14 hours of plane travel provided me the time I needed to study all of it, although “study” is not the same thing as “practical experience.” I assumed I would be at a disadvantage even without the (very good) possibility I would be asleep on me feet…again.

The last thing I did was make sure I had character sheets for myself. Since I had decided (and intended) to PLAY in other people’s games this year, I wanted to make sure I have appropriate ADDKON-worthy characters for use. Tuesday afternoon, I had dug through the bowels of my gaming closet, seeking out old character sheets from my earliest days of gaming. I already had a suitable 3rd level character, care of my boy’s A&D campaign, but I felt I would need something mid-level and definitely something high level for Settembrini’s “Army of Madness” adventure that he would be running Friday night. The mid-level would be for Ignatius Umlaut’s Friday night jam (if I couldn’t get into Setti’s game) or, perhaps, Keith Sloan’s Forgotten Grottoes of the Sea Lords on Sunday. Regardless, I wanted to be prepared and the last couple hours of the second leg was spent re-copying decades’ old character sheets from my middle school years onto fresh, lined notebook paper.

Alex and Grutzi (“Porthos” and “Aramis”) picked me up from the airport, finding me about 30 seconds after I’d grabbed my checked bag (being “Athos” I, of course, had packed a high quality bottle of booze) and hit the ATM for the Monopoly money that passes for cash on this side of the world. A great car ride, great conversation, great tunes (Alex and I have similar musical tastes)…and then voila, we were once again in the Promised Land, walking in (a little late) to Setti’s introductory speech, already in progress.

Fortunately, we didn’t miss much, and we still had time to grab a bite and some coffee…as well as find our rooms and bedding…before the first game block. The Magyar horde was all of one minute behind us, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate for us to upstage their standard, dramatic entrance. All was right in the world.

I need to pause for a moment.

I give all this overview, in part, because I want to give some context before I get to the games proper which are (possibly) of more interest to my readers. Roughly six months of planning and preparation had been going on for me (when possible) in the run-up to this four-day convention. Even when not writing adventures, I was thinking and planning just how and what I would write…I am of the “if-you-have-eight-hours-to-chop-down-a-tree-spend-seven-hours-sharpening-the-axe” mindset when it comes to these kind of things. And part of my planning and sharpening was figuring out how to make an experience that was not only enjoyable for myself and the other con-goers (something important to me), but for my son. And my son wasn’t present.

And people had known he was coming. And they had wanted to meet him. And throughout the convention I was asked time and again by the con-goers what had happened and where he was and how he was. All loving, nothing but concern…and every incident a reminder, a knife in my heart, that he wasn’t there.

I went to my room with my bedding. #16 (the mark of the Tower in the Major Arcana, I noted grimly…how appropriate!). They had given us a private room, with two beds and its own bathroom. Simple and rustic and yet perfect for a young man in a foreign country, an exciting, foreign country for the first time…a sanctuary in which he could nap or do his schoolwork (he was going to have to bring some) in privacy without the interruption of other con-goers. It was so thoughtful, it made me want to cry. And does now, just thinking about it.

But the Cauldron people are full of these “considerate touches.” A French press of decaf coffee…I am 99% sure I was the only person at the con drinking decaf…was given to me as I sat down to run my first game. And every morning, Friday through Sunday (hoo-boy, we’ll talk about Sunday!) someone would find me with a giant plastic carafe of the stuff, knowing that I would polish it off before lunch. I had not asked for this, or put this down as one of my “food requirements.” They simply remembered from last year and had prepared for my coming. The kindness is…overwhelming at times.

Okay, okay…we already did the sentimental post. People want to know about games.

However, before that, I want to say something about “celebrity” in this environment. The on-line gaming community is full of “names” of people known for…well, for all sorts of stuff. Blogging and reviewing. Podcasting and publishing. Getting in internet scrapes and dust-ups. Whatever. I am aware and acknowledge that I am one of these “names,” not least of which because I’ve run a handful of good games at Cauldron, and started this little tournament thing. More than once this year, I had a person refer to me directly (or indirectly) as a “celebrity gamemaster.” Which is both flattering and bewildering. It’s not that I’m self-conscious…I am too arrogant and egotistical for that (and to be clear, I’ve always been somewhat arrogant and egotistical, long before I was “known” for anything). But much as I take pride in running a good game (I HOPE I run a good game…), I just recognize myself as A GUY RUNNING GAMES. Nothing more. No different from ANY of the other Dungeon Masters that show up to a convention and run a game, certainly nothing more “special” than that. If I exhibit a high level of proficiency (I hope I exhibit a high level of proficiency), it is only because I've been doing this a long time. And I’m sure the other old, “celebrity” DM geezers will tell you the same: when you get to be our age and you’ve been running games for thirty or forty years, well, you’d BETTER be able to make a good showing for yourself. Otherwise, what the hell have you been doing with your gaming time over the decades? Just running five room dungeons with a handful of goblins and a slime monster?

Cauldron attracts many big “names” in terms of game masters, some of whom are hardly known outside their home country but who are “big deals” in their own locale. Hell, most everyone who plays at Cauldron IS a Dungeon Master in their hometown…those putting in the time and money and effort to make it out to Hofraithe Rosenthal aren’t just “tourists” looking for a quick pick-up game. These are (mostly) people who’ve put in the work…universally, I hear how “the quality of player is so high” at Cauldron, and damn straight it is because back home these cats are RUNNING games, they are the Big Bosses in their home clubs. Just because they’ve chosen to relax and enjoy the ride in Germany doesn’t mean they don’t know what they’re doing…they absolutely do.

I am no different, other than the fact that I am an incorrigible control freak who would rather be in the driver’s seat than be driven by someone else. Flattering as it is to receive praise from people, I’m just someone who’s been doing this for a long time, and who enjoys doing it, and who hopes to share what he knows with others. Or at least run them a good game and keep them on-the-edge of their seat…and keep them cursing me under their breath.

And sometimes cursing me to my face…that’s a form of flattery, too, from my perspective.

; )

All right, that’s enough preamble. Next post we’ll get to the games proper.

Not Tired...Exhausted

It's 4:30am, German time. I've been up roughly two hours.

Cauldron wrapped up yesterday afternoon around 2pm. As per usual procedure, I spent the evening in a Frankfurt hotel, with a plan to board my return flight Monday afternoon. Unlike prior years, I'll be stopping off in Iceland, spending a couple days sightseeing before returning to Seattle on Wednesday night. My family, is already there, no doubt enjoying thermal springs and the beautiful Aurora Borealis, so difficult to see from our normal neck-o-the-woods.

In Seattle, it is 7:35pm and...biologically...that feels about right. 

It is possible that these little "Cauldron adventures" are taking a year or so off my life expectancy every time I attend one. The whirlwind that this trip is, delightful as it is (and it is delightful) takes an incredible toll, both physically and mentally.

Not emotionally, though. If anything, seeing these people I've come to love...my "European family"...is simply bolstering. There was no sadness, no melancholy, this time in the several rounds of good-byes said. My heart has simply come to accept that, yes, I will continue to come back, as often as I can, and that these people will be here (as often as they can), and our mutual respect, affection, and admiration does not wane or change. 

It is heartening; it is reinforcing. If I wasn't so drained (both mentally and physically), I'd imagine it would be revitalizing and reinvigorating. But I barely feel human at the moment (and that only after two long naps punctuated by an indulgently long hot shower and a rather huge meal featuring schnitzel, potatoes, and a large salad of mixed greens. Lots and lots of fresh water.

No alcohol. I think I'm going to lay off the hootch a bit and let my liver recuperate.

Back to what I was saying: depending on how far one "zooms out" there perspective, we are living in/through troubling times at the moment. There's really no way to sugar coat it. The things going on in the world, things you can read about on-line or that dominate the headlines of every news outlet every day, are not the stuff of a calm, peaceful, productive planet. It is more than sadness or disappointment or resentment...things are going very, very badly in a lot of ways and for a lot of people. There is a heightened feeling of tension running throughout most every person one encounters...an extra stress caused by worry for both the present and the future. 

Living in my normal blue bubble of Seattle, I can generally ignore most of it by focusing on the things I can control (coaching soccer, writing adventures, getting the kids fed and to school on time, etc.). Most of the time I ignore the price on meter when I put gas in the car. When shopping for groceries, I am far more particular with what I buy, trying to waste as little as possible, stretching my own resources as much as possible. I focus on being kind to others...when I can, and when the opportunities present themselves. I attend church when I can, and I pray for sanity and justice and for the safety of those struggling with real peril in the world, peril far removed from my own life of privilege.

All these things help...that is to say, they help me. But I'm not blind to what is going on and how people are feeling. This year at Cauldron, the subjects of politics and world events came up multiple times...I ended up having at least four or five conversations on the subject (which is highly unusual at this cozy, intimate, gaming convention). It comes up. People can't help themselves. And there is a desire, I think, to share those feelings, that stress, that anger, that uncertainty, with others. Not because we all need therapists or something. But because Cauldron is a safe space. The people there, largely strangers (other than the gaming clubs and groups that come together), they look at each other as friends...as family. 

And, generally speaking, not the kind of family you "have to put up with" (because they are relations and you have to extend them a certain amount of courtesy), but family whose company you enjoy. A shared tribe of gamers interested in gaming. A tribe of people who aren't there to make money, or pose for status, or exhibit their ability to lifestyle brand with panache. It's not your average nerd convention, in other words. It's Cauldron.

And so, as I left my family today (except for Alex, Grutzi, and Prince, with whom I shared the drive back to Frankfurt) I felt none of wistfulness of the last two times I've had to say goodbye. I felt only gratitude that these people exist, and that they are a part of my life, and that I am a part of theirs. And in my bones I know I will be back again, no matter what the future might hold. 

This. This community, this communal gathering of people, is SO IMPORTANT for our world right now. These safe spaces with people who quite honestly know so little about each other but who still hang together, eat together, drink together, laugh together, play together...I cannot emphasize how VALUABLE it is to have such an opportunity for this kind of gathering AT THIS EXACT TIME IN OUR WORLD. To be able to get along and find patience and tolerance and true enjoyment in each other's company, regardless of discrepancies in age or gender or nationality or religion or political alignment or WHATEVER it is that we have that might be a reason for division or separation. 

Our world needs more unity now, more love. Far more than I ever remember it needing in my 53 years of life. 

It is amusing...and fascinating...that something so humble as a game of fighting dragons and searching for imaginary treasure with the use of funny-shaped dice can be so profoundly meaningful. But, of course, it's not: D&D is simply the pretense for bringing people together. And there are many things that can do that. D&D has an advantage in that it can be enjoyed so universally, by so many people, regardless of ability. 

Ah...but now I'm meandering (or, perhaps, wandering into territory I've already discussed ad nauseam). The convention, Cauldron, is a blessing to this poor, troubled world of ours. It inspires me with real hope...one of the few things in this world that I can say that about. 

And things that inspire hope need to be loved and nurtured and appreciated. Protected. But also shared. I think most of the participants (especially those who, like me, have participated multiple times) would say the same: it wouldn't do to keep it to ourselves, to grow staid and insular. Fresh blood needs to be rotated into the mix, in order that more people can experience the con and take its light back out into the world with them. So far, there has been new folks at every Cauldron...by my count, there was some 30 new attendees, despite NOT increasing the convention's size. That's wonderful, and I fervently hope it continues to be the case. I fully intend to take next year off myself, and welcome my seat being filled by someone looking to experience the warmth and camaraderie of Cauldron for the first time.

[of course, I said LAST year that I would take this year off...and here I am again. Next year, though, will be a very busy October for both my children, and I intend to stay home and support them to the best of my ability]

Anyway, if you haven't yet had the chance to take the plunge on Cauldron, it has my strongest recommendation. And please, do not have any fears or worries about "beef" or bad blood you might have with people on the internet. I cannot stress enough just how little such internet disputes matter once you are actually meeting person-to-person. You will find nothing but gentlemanly (and ladylike) conduct at Cauldron and, more, you will find comfort and lasting friendship. 

Lastly, as I sign off here (and do not worry, gentle reader, I shall be posting full "action reports" over the next few days...it is a loooong plane ride back to Seattle)...allow me to shout out my friends, my brothers, my comrades-in-arms who took the time (once again) to drive me to-and-from Frankfurt to the middle of nowhere (or the Center of the Universe, depending on how you view Hofraithe Rosenthal): to Grutz, to Alex, and yes to the so-called "Prince of Nothing:" you my friends I will cherish your generosity as much, if not more so than anyone save, of course, the Settembrini clan (and one or two others...you know who you are). As I turned away to stumble into my hotel yesterday afternoon, even more exhausted than I am at the moment, I could not help but consider us in the context of Alexandre Dumas's famous Musketeers...for who are we, if not stout warriors of the trenches, discussing strategy and results and philosophy of gaming, even as we were too busy (running games) to sit in on each others' tables. Of the four, I am most obviously Athos, the brooding drunk with the painful past (and trust me when I say I am prone to brooding), the old man of the group.  Alex is Porthos, whose styled hair and carefully chosen metal t-shirts is a match for his humor, fast driving, and willingness to haul luggage with endless strength. Grutzi is Aramis: poetic, discreet, and soft-spoken, yet secretly ambitious (how many games you running next year, Grutz?). And, of course, our d'Artagnan, Prince, because of course he is: young, witty, energetic, and all-too-often a bit "wet behind the ears." What a foursome. Riding back to Frankfurt with you, listening to everyone's cheerful banter while I drifted in-and-out of consciousness, was the perfect cap off to the entire experience. 

Thank you to everyone for the lasting memories. Thank you to everyone for lighting a beacon, a torch, in darkness...and for allowing all of us who made the journey to light our own torches from your light, as we head back into our own dark corners of the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[posted circa 11:13am as I did, in fact, fall asleep while writing. I guess I'm not entirely on "Seattle time" after all]

Game Day

Nope. Not football. Futbol.

The school soccer season kicks off today...this will be my 4th season coaching my daughter's team, my tenth year coaching my kids, and my second-to-last year (probably) coaching youth soccer. As usual, I'm all keyed up, the adrenaline starting to pump as soon as I hade even a modicum of wakefulness at 6:30am (the wife holding a rather loud conversation in her sleep)...despite being up past midnight working on the game plan.

This season got off to a rough start, it's still a little rough, but I've done my best to iron things out. It hasn't been particularly easy.

Started a few weeks ago when I discovered that my team had been put in the 8th grade division this year (our team of 21 kids are 7th graders). I thought this was just a simple mistake, easily corrected. Nope. Turns out the school only had five 8th grade girls registered for soccer and so, rather than find them homes with other schools (the usual practice), or figure out what happened to all the players who they played with last year (another option), the Athletic Director decided to combine our grades and make us play up a year....basically selling our season. Without any communication or prior discussion with me (the coach) or anyone else on the team.

[at this age, an extra year of size, strength, speed, experience, and training makes a BIG difference in soccer]

I won't bother detailing all the rigamarole that ensued. Suffice is to say, a little legwork on my part turned up another 4-5 kids that had been left off the roster (mostly 8th graders) and we ended up NOT being able to get our old division back nor even split our (now monstrously-sized team) into two. At least the league gave us a dispensation that allows us to remain "playoff eligible" despite exceeding the player limits for normal roster construction (we had 31 players till a couple dropped out).

I'm just required to document all their minutes played to ensure equitable playtime. Reports due before 8am, Monday morning after every game.  (*sigh*)

Then there's my assistant coach. Well, one of them. Diego's also assisting and he, of course, is a great boon. But we've got a dad volunteer who...let's just say his coaching style is different from mine. And tends to center on his daughter a bit. And tends to make her a bit insufferable and insubordinate. It's rubbing Diego the wrong way...but that's how a lot of parent-coaches are (I've explained to him). The whole reason I ended up with the gig four years ago was because half the girls were going to quit playing (including my daughter) because of a similar coach. 

Anyway, I'm coach now (the Big Cheese), and I pride myself in my retention rate. That's part of why our enrollment's gone up every year (we only had 18 last season)...kids keep coming back to play.

In considering it, I'm not sure if my Dungeon Mastering has informed my coaching, or if my coaching has informed my Dungeon Mastering over the years. I have a remarkably similar approach to both, so there's probably some correlation between the two. But I wasn't DMing for kids (as an adult) 9 or 10 years ago...really that's only been about seven years. And when I was DMing 15 years ago, I had no idea I'd ever be coaching kids sports in any way, shape, or form.

Maybe it's just my nature to be a compassionate hard-ass?

Because that's pretty much my style. There's not a lot of goofing at practices. It's drills. It's me critiquing what they do wrong (and praising what they do right). It's me barking at them a lot. It's me taking the time to explain our strategy and tactics and WHY we are doing things in a particular way. 

Because they're smart kids. They get it...if you explain it. For the most part. But even the ones who can't grasp the overall picture can understand their ROLE in that picture, if you spare a couple minutes and give them some attention. I say I'm compassionate...and I am...but perhaps it's more about patience? 

Eh. Maybe not (see the bit about barking at them on the field).

Well, whatever it is. They seem to be having fun...well, what passes for MY version of "fun." There's a new kid (new for me...she's an 8th grader) who has an "ankle issue" and has a hard time doing laps or running sprints (she's overweight and slow, even without the ankles) and whose mom told me is "not very competitive" and just wants to be here with her BFF (who is also "not very competitive"). And, yet, she takes a bus across town to get to practice and she DOES run the laps and DOES run the sprints, and darned if she hasn't shown some tenacity in tackling and winning balls in our scrimmages, even against the faster "club" players on our team. It's just about not ignoring the kid...I treat her the same as the others: encouraging her when she does good, critiquing her (telling her to "hustle up," mostly) when she needs critique, and letting her know she's a contributor, just like everyone else. Not just turning a blind eye and focusing on the "good players." I coach up ALL the kids. 

Anyway, the club players aren't always available anyway (because a lot of families prioritize their expensive soccer clubs over their school teams when there's a schedule conflict), so it's just plain survival to get the best out of every player who shows up. 

I'm a competitive guy. I like soccer; I want to play more soccer. And that means, once again, shooting to reach the playoffs, so that we get extra games. Knock on wood, but I've never missed getting to the playoffs with any team I've coached...I'm 5-for-5.

This season, though, is going to be a bitch. Or...just maybe...it will be our greatest triumph?

Hahaha...no it's far more likely to be the former. But damn it, we're going to pull together, and we're going to suffer together, and we're going to have a damn good time suffering together! Just like a party of D&D adventurers getting their asses handed to them in some dungeon where they're in over their skis. 

Yeah, there's a lot of "bleed through" with my hobbies.

Our first game (today) is against a school that is, traditionally, the Big Bad Bully of the league...they won't be Tomb of Horrors tough, more like Steading of the Hill Giants tough. We'll see how well I can DM us through this mess. We're down six of our best (club) players for the first half, and we'll only be getting two back in the second (and losing another). Imagine if an adventuring party had to play the game without their best magic-user and one cleric down...and then you got the cleric back (with half her spells and hit points depleted) midway through the adventure only to see your other cleric disintegrated. Yeah, like that.

*sigh*

I'm silly; I know. The goal here is to have healthy, happy, active kids running around in the fresh air, getting their heart rates up, and not getting injured. Just like [my] goal with D&D is getting kids away from their screens for a few hours and getting them to use their imaginations and reasoning skills and (safely) getting their heart rates up. Oh yeah...and helping them learn cooperation and teambuilding and sportsmanship, yadda-yadda-yadda...in both activities.

Mm. Yeah. Just keep the vision.

All right, that's enough for this morning...a bit of insight into where my head's at. Yeah, the rest of the world's in flames at the moment, I'm well aware, but right now my attention is a little more local, focusing on the things I can control, the 30ish kids I can impact. Hopefully in a positive fashion. 

Have a good weekend, folks. Peace!

Opening Day

As the Seattle Mariners continue burning down what was once a promising season, some of us have side-stepped caring with the passing of the season to a better, kinder, more delightful spectator sport: American football.

Eh. Who am I kidding...the writing was on the wall with the M's months ago. 

Meanwhile, football has been in the air for a while. The fam broke out the Blood Bowl sometime in July. Ten teams...wood elves, goblins, dwarves, halflings, Amazon, skaven, and a pair each of human and ork...took the field for the 2026 Blood Bowl World Cup, yet despite many games being played we never made it farther than the quarter-finals. Ours i a busy household and it was time to finally pack things up with the advent of actual fall sports. Besides, everyone was a little tired of getting spanked by Diego's wood elves...

Tonight, however, we move onto ACTUAL Blood Bowl. While the wife left town this morning on a jet plane (work), the kids and I shall be attending the Seahawks home opener, a rematch of last year's Super Bowl in which the orks throttled the dark elves. Glorious for the greenskin fans, not so much for the proud (if eternally underhanded) dark elves. Note their coach's later attempt at self-immolation! Dark magic is naught to be trifled with!

ANYway...tonight will be the actual test of how the off-season went for both teams, and we will prove, once and for all, if an ork blitzer is just an ork is just an ork, when the 'Hawks take the field withOUT Super Bowl MVP, Kenneth Walker III. To be honest, I actually preferred ol' Zach Charbs (flashy moves are great, but don't you want someone who can punch in the TDs), but he'll be unavailable till Week 5 (*sigh*...stupid injuries) and we'll be left to see how Jadarian Price can just 'plug-n-play.' At 5'11", 209#, Price isn't quite as big as Charbonnet (and positively TINY compared to fullback Robbie Ouzts), but we're looking for gumption in our running backs. A certain orkish tenacity. Because, much as we love our red-bearded slinger-of-stone, we don't want to put EVERYthing on Sam Darnold's arm.

They're going to come out throwing, aren't they?  (*sigh*)

Never mind, it will all be good fun, and a nice break before the rest of the week (I'm coaching soccer practice Thursday, soccer practice Friday, and then our first soccer match Saturday...and I've just been informed than my star Beckenbauer-like sweeper will be out this weekend. Ugh!). And I'm feeling rather chipper. Because I finished penning my tournament adventure for the '26 Cauldron convention and got it out in the (e-)mail to the prospective DMs yestereve. Now THAT's a load off my plate!

Now I just have to finish the other two (or three) adventures I plan on running at the con.

Later gators...I'm about to cook up some liver and onions. Orks have to eat!

**** EDIT: Apologies to NFL fans who tuned in last night hoping to see a high scoring, fireworks affair. There are probably a few more touchdowns if we don't lose our starting quarterback on the fifth play of the game. However, I can test it was VERY thrilling for 'Hawks fans...especially if you were at the game. It's going to be a couple days before my voice recovers; not sure how I'll be able to yell at my (soccer) players at practice today... ****

Back Into The Woods

I'm starting this Saturday morning; we'll see how long it takes to write.

Currently in Vancouver, Washington for yet another youth soccer tournament. The boy and I had things going on yesterday (including coaching middle school girls) so we hopped the Amtrak last night to meet the wife and daughter down here. It was a late night (though I do love a train ride); everyone but me is still sleeping. Both kids are "guest playing" this weekend.

With regard to the Heroes Unlimited game I was writing about previously, the madness has passed. Well, mostly. I am still doing world building: working out hero demographics, using HU rules to build/model classic (NPC) comic characters, researching storylines from the 70s and 80s (and...rarely...later) for ideas on how various concepts and plots can interact with each other. Yesterday was looking at the history of Alpha Flight (and Omega Flight and Gamma Flight and Weapon X) and its ties to Roxxon Oil and how that was linked to Iron Man, for example. But this is all fodder for the mind factory, grease for the gears. Inspiration, not canon, which is welcome for the "lonely fun" that is world building.

Sadly most of the storylines post-1992 or so are pretty much crap. I shake my head and realize I got out of the comic books at the right time.

Still (and as I already wrote), that all's been back-burnered for the nonce (oo...reminds me I had a dream last night where I was interviewing for a sales job and part of it hinged on my ability to cook; interesting!). Instead, I am buckling down on my Cauldron preparations, and that includes designing and running adventures.

Last weekend I was up on Orcas Island with friends, and I had the chance to play-test the tournament adventure that will be this year's Blackrazor Cup extravaganza. Players included three boys and two girls aged 15, 15, 12, 12, and 7. Yes. I ran AD&D for a seven year old last weekend. His first time. As one might expect, he had a great time and the next day wanted to know when I was going to run "Part 2" and could he play, too. I had to explain that there's no "part 2," just a string of neverending adventures and OF COURSE he can join us the next time we play, if he's available and it's okay with his parents.

AD&D, amIrite?

I'd love to give everyone a blow-by-blow, but I can't until after the con because [SPOILERS]. However, I will say the group found a way to shortcut a ton of the content and instead got to both the grand payout (difficult putting THAT cart in front of the horse) before reaching the ultimate objective, and fighting a total of only two battles. Which ended up being fine because...with only five of eight PCs...that first battle was a bit of a slog. Two-fifths of the party were slain in brutal fashion by the end, but they walked away with a big pile of treasure even so...I haven't had the chance to tally the take, but I will (the boys especially were interested in their tournament score...the girls less so as they'd been reduced to steaming remains), and the score will be posted alongside all the other people who participate...at Cauldron. Just so they can know how they did.

So, yeah. AD&D mode. School is starting up this week (Diego Monday; Sofia on Wednesday). Cross country and school soccer starting in earnest this week (I'm coaching again...and it's already off to a train wreck of a start *sigh*). And I've got about five weeks to get physically and mentally ready for Cauldron. Two more adventures to pen (Diego told me "you're cooked") but I think with the kids back in class I'll have some time. And I'm excited at the prospect.

I don't know what it is about the Dragonlance saga that keeps calling me...not the books, but the whole concept of the thing. I don't believe that I'm trying to "rehabilitate" it (certainly not consciously) but I keep dragging out these old modules and using them as jumping off points for working scenarios and situations into my home campaign (yes: more world building). It's just so damn easy...then again, maybe it's just that the fantasy wilderness of D&D worlds lends itself to the real world 'layout' of my Pac Northwest campaign. For sure, if I wanted to do 'the Forgotten Realms' (I don't), I could place "Neverwinter" in Vancouver, Washington (the very town I'm writing this) while having Mount St. Helen's stand-in for Mount Hotenow (Mount "Hot Now?"). Yeah the Pacific coastline is a little farther west than the Sword Coast, but you can always have some cataclysm or other slide the coastline underwater. Global warming, anyone?

I digress. 

[and why not? it's now Sunday evening that I'm continuing this post]

I digress...there is a rich tapestry of ideas in the Dragonlance saga, desperately needing an editor who's also (sorry to say) something of a subject matter expert in advanced D&D theory-hammering. Which is just about the silliest thing to be a subject matter expert in...but we all have our foibles and weirdness. DL is DUMB, but it is totally USEFUL. I realize I am dripping with snobbish condescension when I make this analogy, but it's been a looooong last two days (a long last two months), and I'll make it anyway: reading Dragonlance modules (I have a few) is like listening to the wildest ideas of my younger, "more creative" child, and realizing I can add a dash of Old Man canny and repurpose it into something wondrous and (for the players) "magical." It has nothing to do with story of the thing; the Hickman's "story" is as tired and trope-y as any fantasy fiction. It has to do with the situations and scenarios and ideas being presented...stuff that can be used by a DM to give the PLAYERS an opportunity to tell their own story. Which is what D&D...real D&D (in my opinion) is all about.

Just like that seven year old regaling his parents with his adventures. 

Not his character's adventures, mind you. HIS adventures. "I did this, Mom!" He survived. He triumphed. He struck the final death blow against the 'Big Bad.' It's no different from my own children's introduction to the game. Well, except he hasn't had a character die yet. Next session maybe.

; )

ANYway. I'm meandering. I'll leave it there for now, but...I'm back in the saddle. 

Kris

Yesterday, Friday, at 5:48pm, my good friend Kris passed away. He was 55 years old.

I'd like to eulogize for a minute. 

Kris Michael Loving was affectionately known (to me) as "Doc" or "the Doctor," a moniker I gave to him many years ago. I've mentioned him in many past blog posts, even detailing some of his physical and mental ailments. The last few years were not kind to Kris. He suffered from Parkinson's, brought on from the years of medications taken for his mental disorders, including bi-polar disorder and paranoid schizophrenia. Not only did he have extreme difficulty walking (ending up in the hospital on multiple occasions from falls suffered), he was plagued by voices...voices telling him all sorts of bullshit that wasn't true or accurate. He would call me every now and then, when they got particularly bad, asking for advice. More than anything, I think he wanted to talk with someone who was real, not some disembodied "other" telling him (in his head) that everyone hated him and wanted him to die or that he had to "do" things (like marry people unrelated to him and care for their unborn children) just because it was "the right thing" for him to do.

A few centuries ago, Kris would probably have been diagnosed as being plagued by demons. This would not be a bad analogy.

More than once in the last couple years he mentioned killing himself. He suffered a lot. I would always advise against this, as I would advise against listening to the "voices" (ever) just as a matter of course. He had a therapist, and a psychiatrist, and a doctor...all for different aspects of his suffering...but they were rarely available outside his normally scheduled sessions. Truth be told, I was seldom available to take his calls either (I'm an extremely busy guy), but I would take his calls every fourth or fifth time, and would call him back when I could. I would talk sense to him...reality...then steer the conversation into something lighter and always end with suggesting he do things to take himself out of his head. Walk (as best he could) or play music (as best he could) or do something artistic (as best he could). Something positive, something constructive, something concrete and real.

Kris never did kill himself. He suffered a stroke on July 30th, and was hospitalized (and intubated) ever after. I received a call from his sister...his caretaker of the last few years, a woman I'd never met...on Thursday, explaining what had happened and that they were removing the tubes Friday afternoon. I drove up to Skagit Valley Hospital (in Mount Vernon) Friday morning to say my goodbyes and to meet his sister. She was a nice woman...she said she'd really wanted to meet me, and thank me for being one of her brother's only friends, and for making his life more enjoyable for him.

...

To an outsider, Kris and I would seem to be very, very different people. Very different. Most would probably consider me a "responsible member of society." Graduated from a four year university. Had a professional, white-collar life (prior to becoming a stay-at-home dad) for some 20+ years. Wife and kids. Church-goer. Socially functional. Well-adjusted, pay my bills/taxes, do volunteer work, coach kids, etc.

Kris, on the other hand...well, even before his health went to shit, he'd probably be labeled something akin to a "burnout." Graduated high school, but not much of a student. Worked a variety of line-cook jobs: Tony Roma's, Red Lobster, Hooters. Drove a shitty hatch-back (fast, smoke-filled, loud music) till he got a DUI and had his license suspended. Drank cheap beer, smoked weed, shot pool. Lived with his (retired) parents, till they died. A bit of a misanthrope...didn't care what your race/gender/religion/sexual orientation was, but if you were an ASSHOLE he'd walk...without a word or backwards glance. Just did not suffer fools, at all. Terse. Smoker. Heavily tattooed (some done by himself). Leather jacketed hoodlum. Had a mullet into his 20s...and could pull it off. About 6'1, Swedish ancestry, brown hair, blue eyes. But nothing "smooth" about him. Awkward...or just plain close-mouthed silent...when it came to ladies, or straight-laced types. No spouse. No girlfriend. No kids. Beer, weed, and rock music and fuck off. That was Kris.

Why would I be friends with that? Why would I continue to keep in touch with such a man...especially as everything in his life started to roll downhill and the the (few) people that were in his circle quietly bowed out, allowing him to disintegrate on his lonesome?

Kris liked me...and I liked him. Truth be told, reflecting on our history, I'd say I got a hell of a lot more out of our friendship than he got out of me. There are MANY people who might say otherwise...they might assume I pitied him, or I was just a compassionate person or some such crap. I think, perhaps, that Kris's sister and former caretaker (both of whom I talked with at the hospital) might have thought this. Heck, they had no idea what to expect, although his sister said Kris's mom had talked about me fondly (which is amazing as I had no idea I even left an impression, only meeting her...briefly...once, maybe twice, three decades before).

Kris and I bonded over beers, shooting pool, and a shared love of music. For all his heavy metal persona, Kris had eclectic music tastes (as do I) and while we PREFER the hard rock, we have deep appreciations for everything from Prince to ABBA to classical music. The last time I talked with Kris (July 22nd) he was telling me about some country bands he was getting into...not my jam, normally, but then I just discovered Outlaws a couple days ago. Doc was a musical encyclopedia...picking his brain about some group or other, and letting him share his expertise, was the kind of things we did. He burned me many CDs over the years, introducing me to the glories of Judas Priest and Dio-backed Sabbath. Our mutual admiration for Kiss...a vastly underrated band, in Doc's opinion...was probably the first brick in cementing our friendship...the nickname "Doc" comes from playing on his last name (Loving) and their song, Doctor Love. 

[jamming Iron Maiden songs was also a shared hobby...he'd play the guitar licks and I'd do the operatic vocals]

But more than music or cocktails or hours spent shooting pool in smoky bars (and, to be clear, Kris taught me how to shoot pool...to the point I could hold my own against the occasional shark and place in local tournaments), we bonded over a love of gaming, especially D&D. Without Kris, I might not even be playing D&D today.

As I've related before, I'd given up the game sometime in high school, instead focusing on other games...So Many Games. I met Kris circa 1997, and when he found out I played RPGs he was more than glib about how he used to play (and love) AD&D...not something one brought up in casual conversation back then. 

But he did. And we put together a game with another mutual nerd I'd made the acquaintance of (an ex-USMC scout-sniper who was trying to get away from a murder career), as well as my then-roommate Mike. We had a good, silly session of 2E D&D, mostly intoxicated (someone else DMing), a lot of laughs and plenty to critique later. After that, Kris was...often enough...my go-to guy for bouncing gaming ideas off of. 

When 3rd Edition came out, we fired up a campaign...multiple times. I converted Village of Hommlet to D20 and ran Kris solo through it. He ran me solo through a bunch of stuff...Forge of Fury I think it was. We swapped off DMing two or three other times, including a high level (15th) adventure he designed that he simply folded after a single combat...in disgust. D20 wasn't the same thing as AD&D, and after mutliple botched attempts, we shit-canned the whole system. 

Ran some Top Secret. Some Maelstrom. Ran a Hunters Hunted adventure for Doc using 1st edition VtM that scared him so bad, he asked me to stop (he had asked me to play a human rather than a vampire; afterwards, he told me he'd be a member of the kindred next time).  We both loved Gamma World as kids and collected a bunch of stuff for it, talking about getting a game off the ground...it never materialized and he sold my books (!!)...accidentally...before moving to Oregon. Still haven't quite put my collection back together. 

Not that GW is all that important without Kris around.

He moved out-of-state before I got back into D&D proper...sometime in the early 2000s. Used to come over to my apartment and cook for/with the wife and me. He liked her, too. Like me, Kris found she fell into the "non-asshole" category. Kris could be sweet and funny and generous...even though he was an odd duck and not the kind of person my wife would ever have (normally) warmed up to. Getting to know him, through me, she found him endearing.

When I started the blog and the D&D writing, he was out of town, but we kept in touch via phone and email and he encouraged me with my first books. He always encouraged me. Just as he encouraged me with music, in his own way ("these guys suck, you're a lot better than them"). Honest to a fault, he could rub thin-skinned folks the wrong way. Fortunately, he knew this and simply kept his mouth shut, rather than badmouth people to their face. We went to a Tommy Lee concert (I think it was in his Methods of Mayhem project) at the Moore and realized during the first song (due to a glitch) that the band was lip-synching. Kris just said "Let's go" and we left. Who was I to argue? He'd bought the tickets.

I say this to illustrate that his encouragement (or criticism) was often simple, direct, and genuine. As such, his belief in my writing was very welcome and helped me through any "imposter syndrome" I felt, being a hack with no background or education/training in writing. And you may think that's a very little thing, but 20 years ago, I didn't have a purpose or meaning or vocation in my life. My life was not unexamined, but it WAS...mostly...without direction. These days, I have a direction...because of my choices...and Kris helped start me down that road. That's no small thing.

Kris's family, no doubt, thinks I'm some sort of saint for taking his calls, and taking time out of my life to listen to him, talk him through schizo episodes, put up with his crazy. I'd guess they think I did it out of loyalty or nostalgia for days of friendship past or whatever.  All bullshit. Kris was a good friend to me. Plenty were the times HE would listen to ME and all the drama in my life...my problems with my idiot brother or my dying mother or whatever stress or issues or injuries I was dealing with. He was an open ear that gave just as much to me...if not more...than I ever gave to him. The burnout metal head who could barely talk thanks to the missing teeth, the palsy, the anti-psychotic meds...our last few phone calls, I could barely make out what he was saying. But I'd listen to him and give him encouragement, and talk to him of positive things, and tell him to stop listening to the voices, that NO, not everyone "hates you," I certainly don't I appreciate you and value you and treasure your friendship and what it's meant to me.

Not everyone has a friend that "gets you." Even if he is a vastly different person with a vastly different life path. Kris approached the world in a different manner from me...but he still "got me" in a way that few individuals in my life do. Maybe no one, really. Steve or Michael, maybe. It takes a similar type of upbringing. Seattle in the 1980s. Kris grew up in Edmonds, but that's close enough.

I already miss him. And I know that as time goes by, I'm likely to miss him more. That sucks.

I am glad Kris is at peace now. I am. I really am. BUT. I wish I could go back in time to when we were both younger, spryer. Wish I could buy him a beer, shoot some pool, hear his wry chuckle which always brought a smirk to my face. Wish I'd had a chance to run some AD&D for him before he left this planet. I know he wanted to play with me, but the logistics never worked out these last few years.

*sigh*

Rest in peace, Doc. You were a good friend to me...better than most. That's something.

Beyond The Supernatural

More personal history:

I wrote in my last post that while Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles was the first Palladium game I purchased, I wasn't really introduced to Palladium as a system until high school when a trio of friends (Ben, Mike, and Michael) showed me how such disparate games as TMNT, Heroes Unlimited, Robotech, and Ninjas & Superspies all worked together off the same universal engine. And, unlike the blandness of GURPS, these were games that lit up all my bells and whistles as far as getting an adolescent's creative juices flowing.

However, I ALMOST got into Palladium before high school through a different friend: Scott.

I believe Scott still lives in Seattle; we were 'friends' on Facebook (an app I almost never use) but he recently deactivated his account (as people tend to do). We were on-again/off-again best friends through elementary school (eight years), but went our separate ways in high school, reconnecting a bit during college, and passing into the realm of casual acquaintance / old (nostalgia) friend after that. The last time I actually sat down with him was before my kids were born; we had a coffee and forgave old grievances and talked about his mom who was dying of cancer at the time. It was a good chat...but I haven't seen him since.

ANYway. I've talked about Scott before, mostly in relation to my old (original) AD&D gaming group. But Scott, like myself, was interested in games outside of D&D. He introduced me to BattleTech (and CityTech and AeroTech and MechWarrior) and we played many battles around his dining room table. He was the first one of us to pick up Advanced Marvel Superheroes and was my GM for that, before those duties migrated to myself. He purchased GURPS (which we never used) and Warhammer 40,000 Rogue Trader (which we WANTED to play, but couldn't, lacking miniatures and not really grokking war games). And, Shadowrun, of course, which was a bit over our heads at age 12 (but which I would play quite a bit in later years).

But one of the last games he picked up, right before the end of middle school...and I can still remember how excited he was by it...was Beyond the Supernatural. And he was excited by it...so much that this was the one game of his that he didn't let me borrow (back in those days we were always swapping our game books with each other so that we could read them and learn the rules). Looking back, I'm not sure if this is because he wanted to keep the 'secrets' of the game to himself (considering that he would be the GM for the game), or because there was just SO MUCH to read and dive into...first edition BTS is over 250 pages long (a lot bigger than 1E Shadowrun, for example) and is chock full of all the lore and high concept stuff that would become a hallmark of trad RPGs of the '90s. Maybe he just never finished reading the thing before we graduated 8th grade and transitioned to high school.

It was many years later...probably college...that I would come across the game in a shop and, flipping through it, realized that it was a Palladium system and thus compatible with Rifts and all the rest. Astounding. As an old hand at Rifts (by that time) it was fascinating to see where all the PPE and ley-line mumbo-jumbo first appeared. 

Of course, by the time I was in university, Palladium was pretty much dead to me (except for the collecting of their always inspirational world books). I had tried running the game multiple times and it always collapsed under the weight of its own clunk. I had resigned myself to the fact that there were far better systems out there (at that time, I was all about White Wolf, and I could run their "Storyteller" system blindfolded). In fact, I had some college buddies who invited me to play in a one-off Rifts game with them (I wouldn't even have to run the thing)...I wasn't interested.

But their interest in Rifts was unusual at that time. Most of us were playing some sort of White Wolf game in the early 90s. Or some version of BRP. I was running Stormbringer every now and again, and there was an on-going Call of Cthulhu game in the dorms that I never got into...despite my love of Lovecraft and that whole "eldritch horror" genre that his work spawned/inspired. I own CoC (and the GUMSHOE game Trail of Cthulhu), but playing a game where you're powerless in the face of existential horror just never felt fun in the same way reading creepy stories did.

Which maybe why BTS still appeals to me...despite the turn-off of Palladium's system.

I mean: just look at that cover. This is EXACTLY what I want out of a "horror" game. A bunch of dudes in jumpsuits (obviously non-military) firing off automatic weapons while getting chewed up by some Monstrosity-That-Should-Not-Be while trying desperately to locate an exorcism spell in an ancient grimoire (do you read Sumerian?). I mean, THAT's the kind of "modern adventure RPG" I can get behind. No matter how much dumb-dumb might be in it, there's an energy there that's missing from the more staid and polished efforts on the market. Apologies to Unknown Armies, Chill, Delta Green, Esoterrorists, etc. but BTS got it pretty much right the first time.

Yeah, sure. It's my opinion. Others may beg to differ.

Just reading BTS takes me straight back to 1987. Man, I wasn't reading Shanarra books back then (not that I ever have); hell, I didn't even read The Lord of the Rings till the 1990s. No, I was reading books by Steven King, Peter Straub, Clive Barker. Mostly King, though...everything I could get my hands on. You can see a LOT of King-type tracings in BTS; ideas cribbed from The Dead Zone, Firestarter, and IT. Of course, you can also see a lot of the shlock horror that we were watching back in those days, too...things like Hellraiser and Phantasm and Poltergeist.

Beyond the Supernatural is a game that asks, 'What if Ghostbusters wasn't a comedy? And what if it was  written and directed by John Carpenter?'  

That doesn't sound pretty rad to you? It does to me.

And, yet, I confess it is a game for a different time. And I don't just mean "because it has an old-school'ish, clunky system." For someone of a particular age/generation (i.e me and the friends of my youth...who do you think got me into all that horror nonsense, back in the day?), it has tropes and ideas that we are intimately familiar with, lacking only some sort "dream fighting" psychic ability a la Dreamscape, Elm Street, or Masterton's Night Warriors series.

[come to think of it, I could use a little more Cronenberg/Scanners-style head exploding psychic powers, too...but that's just me]

The really nice thing about BTS is that it's self-contained: it is a complete game in and of itself. Or, at least, it was. There is (of course) a 2nd edition of Beyond the Supernatural that cuts out all the magic stuff (!!) and significantly reduces the bestiary...these things were going to be covered in two "later supplements." Which has never happened. 2E BTS was published in 2005, twenty-one years ago. Not sure we'll EVER see these books...at least not in Siembieda's lifetime.

Which is fine. My advice (as usual) is: stick with the first edition. Especially as it's still available for purchase as a PDF (in print some places as well). I'd say more on the subject but it would probably amount to flogging a dead horse...plus I'm digressing. 

As I was starting to say, Beyond the Supernatural is a game for people of a certain age and generation: people who remember what life before smart phones and the internet was like. Yeah, my kids love Stranger Things, too, but that series is just a period piece for them...like watching Downton Abbey. If I tried running a game for them set in 1987 (the year BTS was originally published), they'd have tremendous blindspots in the subject matter...not just with regard to history, but with regard to tropes and genre conventions.

You know how little kids know these days even about such 'old hat' monsters as vampires and werewolves? Seriously...they have no idea.  

Whatevs. I'm sure people are wondering why the heck I'm even talking about Beyond the Supernatural right now...other than it is another Palladium game that I've said I might find useful for the Heroes Unlimited campaign I'm developing. Well, that's just it: I DO think it would a useful piece to my campaign "puzzle" and, while Palladium takes a fairly secular view of supernatural evil (I'd guess Satan would simply be another "alien intelligence" on Rifts Earth...get the railgun!), unlike Mr. Siembieda, I AM a fan of "magic" in my comic book properties. Yes, aliens and galactic adventuring is fun (and I'm still reading the Galaxy Guide...we'll get to that), but I was a big fan of Doctor Strange, too. Hell, I like mixing both scifi AND mysticism...always dug that Syzygy Darklock guy from the Dreadstar comics.

Probably because he was a cyborg.

; )