Sep 18, 2017

Rogue Trader: Star-Lord alternate career rank

Obviously this is a parody, we have no rights to anything, you know.

Required Career: Any.
Alternate Rank: Rank 2 or Higher (10,000 xp)
Other Requirements: Charm, Fel 30+
Traits: Characters selecting this Alternate Rank receive the Ravager Implants trait.

Star-Lord Advances Prerequisites in italics

Awareness +10 200xp Awareness
Barter 200xp
Blather 200xp
Carouse 100xp
Charm +10 200xp
Charm +20 300xp Charm +10
Deceive +10 200xp Deceive
Evaluate 200xp
Forbidden Lore (Archeotech) 200xp
Performer (Dancer) 100xp
Pilot (Personal) 200xp
Pilot (Personal) +10 200xp Pilot (Personal)
Pilot (Personal) +20 200xp Pilot (Personal) +10
Search 200xp
Security 200xp
Silent Move 200xp
Sleight of Hand 200xp
Tech-use 200xp
Trade: Archeologist 200xp

Gunslinger 500xp Two-Weapon Wielder (Ballistic)
Hard Target 300xp Performer (Dancer)
Hotshot Pilot 500xp Pilot (Personal)
Peer (Underworld) 200xp
Pistol Weapon Training (Universal) 300xp
Two-Weapon Wielder (Ballistic) 300xp BS 35, Agility 35

Void Accustomed 200xp Pilot (Personal)
"I'm Distracting You" 500xp Charm +20, Performer (Dancer)


Ravager Implants

The character is equipped with arcane archeotech implants that allow them to function in the yawning void. When the implants are deployed (counts as a Free Action), the character is immune to the effects of vacuum, cold and radiation as if they had the Machine trait, and can freely move in zero-g and vacuum environments using the Pilot (Personal) skill.

Void Accustomed

As the Void Born starting trait (core rulebook, p. 19): immune to space travel sickness, zero- or low-gravity environments not considered difficult terrain.

"I'm distracting you"

Once per combat or similar conflict situation (GM'd discretion), at the beginning of a round, the character may make an opposed Challenging +0 Charm or Performer (Dancer) test versus the highest enemy Willpower score as a Reaction. If the character succeeds, they win Initiative that round and all enemies act last. In addition, all enemies suffer a -10 to their actions that round, increased by -10 for each degree of success. If the character fails the test, count their Initiative as zero for that round. At the GM's discretion, enemies with the Machine trait may be immune to this Talent.

Sep 11, 2017

War of the Ring: Warriors of Middle-earth review

While War of the Ring is a fantastically good game, its expansions can also be fantastically hard to get hold of. Their rarity means that when I was lucky enough to see a copy of Warriors of Middle-earth at our friendly local game store, I pretty much bought it immediately. Warriors adds six factions to the game, effectively taking event cards from the base game, like ents, and expanding them into full factions with figures on the board, which the players can activate and mobilize for the war. It also adds a couple of new event cards to replace the ones that got removed; most notably, the Free Peoples get The Western Way, which opens up a whole new route for the Fellowship.

If the expansion works, it should add some very welcome depth to the game; if not, it'll make an attractively simple game overly fiddly and complicated. The only way to find out is to try it!

John Howe: Corsairs, no year given


Last time, we tried a three-player game where I played as Saruman, but the hobbit terrorists managed to destroy the Ring. This time, I represented the Free Peoples against two players sharing Shadow duties. The game itself was another narrowly run thing; the Shadow reached 11 victory points when Lórien fell, with the Fellowship two steps away from the Cracks of Doom. So at least the expansion hasn't seemed to change the balance of the game dramatically!

Crucially, we did get to deploy several factions: the Eagles helped out the Free Peoples by chasing the Nazgûl and contributing to the defense of the Woodland Realm, while the Dunlendings stormed Helm's Deep, the Corsairs landed at Dol Amroth and a spider ate Faramir at Pelargir.

Above, background: Eagles chase the Nazgûl away from the Fellowship; foreground: the Uruk-hai and their Dunlending allies take Helm's Deep.

The way factions work is that each of them has an activation condition: the Eagles and spiders, for example, can be brought into play with a Muster die as soon as the Fellowship is no longer in Rivendell. As soon as at least one faction is in play, that side rolls a Faction die with its Action dice, which lets you play or draw Faction cards, or recruit more figures or new factions. Faction cards are a new kind of Event card that you draw and hold in hand separately from the other Event cards. These offer some ways to get factions into battle, but the most important way is Call to Battle cards, which you can add to your hand and play as combat cards to involve factions.

This all feels a bit fiddly at first, but once you work it out, it begins to proceed quite smoothly. The Faction card deck is probably, for our money, the least succesful part of the expansion: especially as the lone Free Peoples player, you keep drawing cards that affect factions that aren't in play at all yet, and even when they do, the effects aren't usually that powerful, so they start getting overlooked in favor of the much more impactful Character and Strategy cards. Some abilities are also contingent on managing to draw the right Faction card: if you want your army in Umbar to make an amphibious descent somewhere, you're basically stuck until you manage to find a copy of Ships of Great Draught in the Faction deck. So this isn't a great mechanic. Sadly, this tends to make factions a bit of an afterthought in actual play, with the Faction die almost invariably the last one to be used in a turn.

Having said that, though, even if factions very much play second fiddle to each player's main forces, it certainly doesn't mean they don't add anything to the game. Of the Shadow factions, the Dunlendings were particularly succesful: they can be recruited to join Saruman's armies and used as cannon fodder in the assault on Rohan, which is pretty much spot on thematically and worked well in the game. The Corsairs were held back by the lack of an appropriate Faction card, but as soon as it showed up, they made a dramatic descent on Dol Amroth and captured it. The spiders mostly served as auxiliaries to the armies of Sauron, but their ability to specifically attack leaders and Companions is actually surprisingly nasty!

On the Free Peoples side, the only faction that saw play this time were the Eagles, but they were excellent. They helped whittle down the army besieging the Woodland Realm, chased away some Nazgûl and bought a little more time for Lórien by negating the Witch-king's leadership in a crucial battle. Their home base at Eagles' Eyrie lets them help out from Erebor to Lórien. It'd be a strange set of circumstances if the Free Peoples player didn't find it worth their time to use a Muster result to get the Eagles in play.


If I have one complaint to make about the base game, it comes down to the action dice. One aspect of War of the Ring that we quite enjoy is that at the beginning of the game, the event cards you draw serve to direct the game in a way that you can never fully anticipate. As an extreme example, if as the Free Peoples player you were to draw The Western Way and Fear, Fire, Foes as your first cards, you'd be highly tempted to have the Fellowship head west! Even though the starting setup is always the same, the event cards, and to a lesser extent the action dice, create a random element that strongly enhances gameplay.

At the end of the game, though, the inherent randomness of the action dice can really hamstring the Free Peoples. In our first game with the Warriors expansion, for instance, I arguably lost the game due to a string of Hunt tiles with the Reveal icon on the Mordor track, combined with dismal rolls of nearly all Muster and Event. I was using an Elven-ring per turn just to be able to move the Fellowship even once, while the Muster and Event results were damn near useless at that point in the game. I've similarly had an attempt at a Free Peoples military victory founder on a lack of Army or Character results, leaving my armies sitting on their hands outside crucial Shadow strongholds. To add insult to irony, there's a late-game character who can change Muster dice into Army dice: the Mouth of Sauron. The Free Peoples could really use some kind of parallel ability.


To sum up, though: we liked Warriors of Middle-earth, and we'll be using it in our future games of War of the Ring. While the factions can sometimes feel like a bit of an afterthought, on the whole they're a positive addition to the game and they don't overencumber it.

Now if I could just find a copy of Lords of Middle-earth somewhere...

Sep 4, 2017

Let's Read Tolkien 36: The Bridge of Khazad-dûm

The Company of the Ring stood silent beside the tomb of Balin.

After a moment of silence for Balin, the Fellowship start trying to figure out what happened to him. By both doors of his burial chamber are a pile of bones, weapons and other detritus of battle, and next to a plundered chest lies the remains of a book. Gandalf, together with Frodo and Gimli, starts figuring out the book, which turns out to be an account of Balin's Khazad-dûm reclamation project. Balin set up his throne in the Chamber of Records, which is where Gimli reckons the Fellowship is now. In the fifth year of the colony, Ori begins keeping record, and relates Balin's death, shot by an orc. From then on, the chronicle is a tale of defeats at the hands of the orcs and drums in the deep, ending in a dramatic scrawl: "they are coming".

Right on cue as they finish reading, a massive drumbeat booms through the room and horns sound in the hall: the orcs are coming. The Fellowship makes a stand in the Chamber of Records: Frodo stabs a troll in the foot with Sting, Sam gets a cut in his forehead but kills the orc, and the rest of the company accounts for a dozen more. As the survivors of the first wave retreat, the Fellowship make a break for the other door. As they do so, an orc-chief bursts in and stabs Frodo with a spear. Aragorn kills the orc and grabs Frodo, and the Fellowship runs for it.

Boromir shuts the door, but it can't be locked or jammed. As Gandalf stays behind to seal the door, Frodo shocks everyone by protesting that he's all right and can walk. Led by Aragorn, the Company makes their way down a long staircase. Soon, a flash of light and a sound of collapsing stone heralds the return of Gandalf, who resumes the lead.

They keep going for an hour, with no sound of pursuit except distant, muffled drum-beats. As they pause for rest, Gandalf explains that he had tried to put a shutting-spell on the door, but something came into the chamber and cast a counterspell that nearly killed him. Gandalf then spoke "a word of Command", and the strain blew up the door and collapsed the chamber. Frodo's health is queried and he again insists he's fine.

As the Fellowship gets going again, they soon spot red light in the distance. They come to another broad hall: to the left is the Bridge and beyond it the East-gate, to the right a deep crack in the floor with fire and smoke coming out of it. The fire is between the Fellowship and their pursuers, so they run for it. Soon they're at the Bridge: it's a desperately narrow stone bridge over a massively deep chasm, without rails or anything to stop an unwary walker from falling to their death. It's explained in the text as "an ancient defence of the Dwarves". The Company hasten to cross in single file.

As they're beginning to make their way across, the orcs catch up with the Fellowship. Two trolls throw down stone slabs across the fiery crack, but what terrifies Gimli and Legolas is the dark, man-shaped creature shrouded in shadow that leaps the fissure and bursts into flame: a Balrog, Durin's Bane; the evil the dwarves awakened and that nearly destroyed Gandalf with a spell. The Fellowship flees across the Bridge, where Gandalf confronts the Balrog. They exchange blows with their swords, and Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff. The staff breaks, the bridge collapses, and the falling Balrog yanks the wizars down with it. To the sound of mournful drum-beats, Aragorn leads a weeping Company of the Ring charging out of Moria - without Gandalf.


This is a fairly short, action-packed chapter, with a very dramatic finish. The tragedy of Balin is revealed, along with the broader tragedy of Moria, the Fellowship meets a memorable monster, and Gandalf is lost.

I can hardly write about this chapter without tackling the great debate: does the Balrog have wings or not? The answer is easy: yes. Here are the pertinent bits of text:

His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings.

The most natural reading here is that the "wings" aren't really wings, but some kind of semicorporeal shadow, which the Balrog is described as being surrounded by. However, two paragraphs later:

The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly onto the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm.

Here the case is reversed: reading this whopper of a sentence, it takes extraordinary effort to not come away with the impression that the Balrog has wings - whatever it is that they actually are! The argument has been made that the first instance of "wings" is a simile - it describes a shadow like wings - and the second instance takes up that simile as a metaphor. In this reading, we are to assume that it is the shadow of the Balrog that stretches from wall to wall.

To me, this is a strange reading. Tolkien doesn't use similes directly as metaphors like this anywhere else, and it's a strange linguistic device anyway, especially in a text that, archaisms apart, doesn't really use very complicated metaphor structures. Consider the following invented passage:

Miss Donahue entered the study, carrying a golf club on her shoulder as if it were a rifle. She sat down, and looked over the papers on the desk. She then carefully laid the rifle down on top of them.

Are you really willing to accept that the object Miss Donahue laid down on the desk is the golf club she walked in with? Or would you not rather suspect that either the author has become terribly confused, or that what was initially described as a golf club was, in fact, a rifle all along? I find the idea that the kind of simile-metaphor transition where what she laid down was, in fact, a golf club, is a perfectly normal and straightforward thing to be preposterous.

The way I understand the passage is that the Balrog's appearance is malleable. There are several examples in the Lord of the Rings of characters who seem to change appearance, to the extent that it almost qualifies as a Tolkien trope. The first instance is in the opening chapter, where Bilbo threatens Gandalf:

Gandalf's eyes flashed. "It will be my turn to get angry soon," he said. "If you do that again, I shall. Then you will see Gandalf the Grey uncloaked." He took a step towards the hobbit, and he seemed to grow tall and menacing; his shadow filled the little room.

At the Prancing Pony, Aragorn "stood up, and seemed suddenly to grow taller". The Nazgûl and their horses are terrified by Glorfindel "revealed in his wrath". In the previous chapter, as Gandalf defended the Company from wolves:

In the wavering firelight Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone set upon a hill.

During the encounter at the bridge, the Balrog's appearance similarly changes several times. At first, it is a shadowy form, which then bursts into flames. Its shadow grows, then its fire "seemed to die, but the darkness grew". It then draws itself up, and its wings are spread. The way I read this is that the Balrog is surrounded by some kind of shadow which it can to some extent control, or which changes shape by some other logic. This shadow includes two distinct appendages which stretch out behind it, and which Tolkien calls wings. Therefore, the Balrog has wings. What they are is never specified.

Whether the Balrog can fly or not never really comes up, because it doesn't seem to have occasion to. When Gandalf destroys the bridge, the Balrog's main interest seems to be to fight Gandalf, so it falls and drags Gandalf down with it. For that matter, we also don't know if it can speak, or indeed a whole lot else at all. We know that it's a shadowy and fiery big bad guy left over from Morgoth's ancient wars, and it really wants to fight Gandalf. Especially since it's presented in a dwarven context, the Balrog strongly recalls the fire-giants of Norse myth.

It's tough to figure out just how big the Balrog actually is. It's first described as "of man-shape maybe, yet greater", and after all, it managed to fit into the Chamber of Mazarbul. However, when it draws itself "up to a great height" and spreads its wings, it seems to dwarf Gandalf. I'm not sure if, say, Gandalf actually ever grew or shrunk in size, or if it was an illusion. Similarly, maybe the Balrog is the same size all along, and the apparent changes are more to do with how scary it is. But in my opinion, the text clearly describes the Balrog as having some kind of shadow-wings.


In the previous chapter, the Watcher in the Water grabbed Frodo, and in this one, an orc-chief stabs him. In both cases, it's at least suggested that they might have been deliberately going after the Ring-bearer. By contrast, the Balrog completely ignores Frodo, and seems fixated on fighting Gandalf. Likely it either wasn't aware of the Ring or didn't care about it. It's interesting to consider what might have happened if the Fellowship had fallen in Moria and the Ring had ended up with the Balrog. This isn't explained in the Lord of the Rings, but the Balrogs belonged to the Maiar: the same order of beings as Gandalf and Sauron. Both Sauron and Durin's Bane were ancient followers of Morgoth. Would the Balrog have returned the Ring to Sauron? Or would it have claimed it for its own, to further whatever designs it had nurtured over the millenia in the deeps of Moria? I think the latter. At least it's make for a much more interesting story.


Next time: elves, trees and poetry.

Aug 21, 2017

CKII: The sun sets

Last time on Crusader Kings II, I got myself well into the 13th century and secured the Empire of Suomi. Unfortunately, my prospects for further expansion weren't great, because I think that's what you call a blob right there:

Luckily for us, though, the Justanids to our south collapsed; less luckily, the Byzantines and Hungarians were quick to the spoils.

The nobility provided some entertainment.

This, however, is where we ended up. The empires of Suomi, Byzantium and the Mongols carved up what used to be the Justanid shahdom, and then it was just the three of us.

Below, the three great faiths: Christianity, Islam and "Suomenusko".

And as a curiosity, the trade republics and the Silk Road.

But every story has an end, and here's this one's.


So, that was a long slog, but it ended well. I hope I've made it abundantly clear how much I love this game. It's sort of stealthily worked its way up my all-time favorites list to an almost alarmingly high position, and I'd strongly recommend it to any and all fans of strategy games who are willing to figure out how it works. However, having said that, the end of a gruelingly long campaign seems like a good place to also talk a little about the game's shortcomings.

First and foremost, maybe mainly due to my academic interests but also just in terms of gameplay, we really need to talk about the combat system. I discussed it a little in my previous post, but to recap, there isn't really a whole lot that you, as the player, can do about combat. Tactics are the preserve of the computer, so all you can do is appoint capable leaders and try to have an advantageous army composition. The latter is done by building buildings in your holdings and hiring retinues, so this is long-term work. What little operational art there is basically consists of tricking the AI into attacking into rough terrain across rivers. Finally, strategy is really a matter of cold math: calculating when you have the advantage and attacking when you do.

As combat systems go, this isn't all bad: many strategy games, foremost in my mind the Civilization series where armies are still essentially chess pieces, are much worse. But frankly, war in Crusader Kings II is clinical and boring, and there's not much meaningful scope for player skill.

The fellow Paradox named their strategy engine after maintained, quite correctly in my mind, that war is the continuation of politics by other means. It's kind of a double irony, then, that if the warfare leaves a lot to be desired, the politics themselves are almost completely absent. By this I mean diplomacy, in the sense of relations with other states. There pretty much isn't any. The only real diplomacy is dynastic marriages, which result in non-aggression pacts that can be parlayed into alliances. You don't really have diplomatic relations with other realms: either you're at war or not, and while at peace, there's basically no interaction, and perhaps most importantly, no trade to give you any reason to not be at war. The Reaper's Due adds a Prosperity mechanic which rewards you for being at peace, but does nothing to redress the complete lack of diplomacy.

This spins off onto another pet peeve related to my academic background: while I like that religions are prominently featured in the game, the way inter-faith relations work is deeply unfortunate. While different religions have a rich variety of different ways to declare holy wars on each other, their opportunities for peaceful interaction are even fewer than those between rulers of the same faith, because with very rare exceptions, AI characters from a different religion won't even consider marrying "infidels". This means that interactions with rulers and realms of different religions are practically nil. This is partly why my latest game ended so boringly: there wasn't really anything I could do to come to some kind of terms with either my Muslim or Christian neighbors. Not only is this boring, but it's completely unhistorical. The time period covered by Crusader Kings II certainly had more than its fair share of religious conflict, but throughout - even in the crusades the game is named after - there was also peaceful interaction: trade, cultural exchange, interfaith marriage and much, much more. It's a really unfortunate choice by Paradox, and one not without political dimensions in this day and age, to concentrate so heavily on religious animosities, to the almost total exclusion of peaceful relations.


So, having said all that, I'm currently reading John Keay's India: A History, in preparation for a game on the subcontinent with Rajas of India. Later, I intend to get Conclave and Monks and Mystics, and try a new game in Western Europe, just to see how much the game has changed from my Irish days. So certainly none of these shortcomings are keeping me from playing.

Even this game has a finite life, though, and it's been suggested that Monks and Mystics will be one of the last major DLCs. If and when there's a sequel, and I'd gladly pay money for one, I do most sincerely hope that the developers would look at the areas of the game I've highlighted above. Crusader Kings II is a great game, but Crusader Kings III could be so much better.

Aug 14, 2017

Let's Play Magic: the Gathering: Mind vs. Might Duel Decks

I mentioned ages ago that before we got into this whole living card game thing, the previous time I played any kind of card game that wasn't either bridge or poker was with a Magic: the Gathering Ice Age starter set.

The thing about Magic is that as near as I can tell, Richard Garfield pretty much invented the modern collectible card game. All the other card games we play, whether Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones or Arkham Horror, use mechanics that are functionally almost identical to those in Magic. So you might even go so far as to say that this is also a project of historical interest.

This summer, I happened to find what I think is a Revised Edition Mountain card hanging around our summer cottage. I used it as a bookmark, which is probably what made the idea of playing again start to grow on me.

So eventually the inevitable happened. If I remember my university classes correctly, Islamic theology maintains that everyone is born a Muslim, but not everyone manages to stick with it. Therefore, one does not convert to Islam but rather returns to it. Something similar seems to be true about Magic; at any rate, I, too, returned.

Our friendly local gaming store had some 7th edition starter sets hanging around, and we grabbed one. The starter set gives you one blue-white deck and one red-green one, with a booklet explaining the rules. Ours was a Finnish edition, and I have to say that the translation was very well done! The rulebook gives a reasonably good walkthrough to a sort of pre-scripted game; once it leaves you on your own, though, my blue-white deck had the edge in some surprisingly powerful creatures, and my partner ended up being overrun by bunnies.

We were also given a pair of 2016 Welcome Decks for free, so our FLGS really treats us pretty well. Admittedly this already added up to a reasonable total of cards to get started with, but I figured we could do better. Duel Decks seemed the best way to get stuck in with more contemporary Magic, and I picked the Mind vs. Might Decks to kind of go with our Lord of the Rings decks; since my partner plays mono-Tactics, the red-green Might deck seemed like the best match, while the red-blue Mind deck was close enough to my favorite sphere, Spirit.

In our first game - the first time I played Magic with real cards this millenium - I got off to a decent start before being destroyed by Rubblebelt Raiders. Knew I should've kept that Rift Bolt in reserve...

The second time around, it was my turn. First I got Young Pyromancer out, which meant a pile of Fire Elementals, and then I set up a combo of several spells next turn followed by Empty the Warrens; at the end of the turn, I controlled seven Fire Elemental tokens and eight Goblins, which promptly overran my opponent.

Next time, I lost in fairly short order, but I did get to drop a meteor on a tree, so it wasn't all bad.

So far, then, our limited testing bears out what I'd read about the Mind vs Might duel decks online: especially the Might deck is accessible to new players, and most of the time Mind will lose, unless it can pull off a spectacular combo and win by miles. Most importantly, especially if you know the above going in, it's damn good fun.


I also quite enjoyed Magic Duels on the Xbox, until about a month before Hour of Destruction came out, it was abruptly announced that it would no longer be supported. This is just a weird decision; they had no replacement to announce, but suddenly decided to pull the plug on the previous project anyway. Like the community, I too was surprised and disappointed, as I'd been looking forward to Hour of Destruction on Duels. Admittedly I hadn't spent any money on it, but frankly, if support for their video games is liable to just vanish into thin air with no warning, why would I? Surely the point of a free-to-play Magic video game is to advertise the physical product. Duels was doing pretty well at that.

Now, though, with no new cards coming and the AI opponent endlessly stuck playing the same Amonkhet staples, Duels feels pointless. Instead, I went and got Elder Scrolls: Legends, also a free-to-play collectible card game.

Legends is like Magic, except your mana increases each turn instead of having lands (which is like Hearthstone?), you can't play cards in the other player's turn (which is boring) and creatures are played into one of two lanes. It's not bad, actually!


Thanks to Magic: Duels, though, my partner fell in love with Filigree Familiar, so we now also own a Kaladesh bundle.

I have no objections to this: I used a number of Kaladesh cards in Magic: Duels, and I also quite like the art. For example, Kaladesh includes what I think is my favorite Mountain, an almost Roerichesque piece by Eytan Zana.

Because co-op games are our real passion and neither of us has any real interest in competitive play of any kind, our Magic hobby will mostly be a collecting one, which puts a premium on pretty cards.


So, reviews. The 7th edition starter decks were all right. My main complaints are that the card choices really aren't very inspired, especially if the aim is to use these sets to introduce people to Magic. Also, the way our decks were stacked, the Silver deck won overwhelmingly and the Gold player just had nothing they could really do about it. So not ideal. However, I do have to mention the translation again, because it's just very good compared to the kind of thing you usually find in products like these. So that, at least, was a pleasant surprise. Basically the starter set did a pretty good job of walking a new player through the basics of Magic, but with surprisingly boring cards.

Magic: Duels was actually pretty good, but then it was discontinued in such a callous way that it's kind of hard to see the point any more. The Elder Scrolls: Legends is better, and I guess we can expect it to be around for a while? Maybe? Anyway if you're into things like Magic I'd give it a shot; the story mode is an enjoyable enough experience. Also, by the way, several of the Legends cards are pretty enough that I'd be quite happy to buy actual physical copies.

Finally, the Mind vs Might duel decks were good fun, and at least for us, an entirely reasonable way for a new player and a very rusty one to get stuck in again. I'm pretty sure you could do a lot worse for a first or returning purchase to contemporary Magic.

Aug 7, 2017

Let's Read Tolkien 35: A Journey in the Dark

It was evening, and the grey light was again waning fast, when they halted for the night.

After a failed attempt on the Redhorn Gate, the Company of the Ring discuss their options. They can't go back to Rivendell and abandon their quest. Gandalf suggests passing under the mountains, through the Mines of Moria. Nobody wants to; even the hobbits are vaguely scared by the name. Boromir suggests heading south, either to the Gap of Rohan or even further, to the shorelands of Gondor. Gandalf argues against this, citing both the proximity of Isengard to the Gap and both the great distance and open ground on the way to Langstrand. He reckons they'll be hunted by the Enemy after their repulse at Caradhras, and Moria offers the only chance of eluding pursuit.

The argument is left unresolved when the Company hear the howl of wolves on the wind. Quickly retreating to a hilltop and lighting a fire, the Fellowship gets into its first fight as they defend their position from the attacking Wargs. Gandalf eventually casts a spell, setting the wolves and surrounding trees on fire. In the morning, they find no dead bodies, which according to Gandalf confirms that they were no ordinary wolves.

Led by Gandalf and Gimli, the Company heads for the walls of Moria. Looking for the old road to Moria that once ran by a stream, they at first can't find it until they encounter the dry riverbed. What happened to the stream is a mystery, but they strike the road and soon find out: just below the massive cliff that is the western wall of Moria, the river has been dammed. It forms a still, stagnant lake, which the Company skirt as widely as possible on their way to the cliffs. There they make preparations to enter the Mines, which include saying goodbye to Bill the Pony. Over Sam's strong protests that he'll surely die on his own, Gandalf lays an enchantment on him to help him home.

Next, the Company needs to find their way into the Mines. As Gimli explains, "dwarf-doors are not made to be seen when shut". A search by Gandalf reveals the doors, which are guarded by a riddle in elvish, which he translates as: Speak, friend, and enter. Everyone except Aragorn is thoroughly dismayed to hear that Gandalf doesn't know the answer.

As the wizard starts trying various passwords to get the doors open, Boromir grumbles about the foul lake and throws a rock into it. Frodo wishes he hadn't. Just then, Gandalf finally solves the riddle. He had mistranslated the text: it actually reads say "friend" and enter. When Gandalf says the elven word for friend, the doors swing open.

As the Company is entering Moria, however, they're attacked by tentacles from the lake. Frodo is grabbed, and Bill the Pony flees in panic. Sam rushes to hack the tentacle off Frodo, and everyone runs inside. The tentacles slam the doors behind them and jam them shut. The Fellowship is stuck in Moria.

Gandalf, aided by Gimli, leads the Company through the passages and pitfalls of the Dwarrowdelf. Seeking the East-gate, they descend further into the silent mines. As they go, Frodo begins to think he hears soft footfalls following them.

They pause for a rest at a junction of passages that Gandalf doesn't recognize. There's a room just off the junction, thought by Gimli to have originally been a guardroom, with a well-shaft in the middle. The Company beds down there, and as they're doing so, Pippin, on a whim, drops a stone down the well. After a long fall, the rock falls into what sounds like water. Soon, faint hammer-blows are heard in the depths, like a signal that soon fades away.

On their next day of traveling, the Company finds a passage that starts to rise, and thry reach what Gandalf calls "the habitable parts": a huge pillared hall with smooth, black walls. They rest here, and Gimli gives them some poetry on the past greatness of Khazad-dûm. Gandalf explains to a curious Sam that the greatest wealth of Moria was mithril, a beautiful and incredibly durable metal that could be made into jewelry or practically impenetrable armor. Gimli is shocked when he hears that Thorin had given Bilbo a mithril-coat, although not half as shocked as Frodo is to hear that he's walking around wearing a coat of concealed armor worth more than the entire Shire.

Frodo sleeps, and imagines two points of light like eyes in the dark. He wakes to find daylight shining into the hall through a deep shaft, proving that they must be on the east side of Moria. A corridor leads east, but first they enter an arched doorway to the north, where a light also shines. Inside, a beam of light falls on a tomb, where an engraving tells them Balin lies buried.


From the reverse at Caradhras, this chapter takes us through wolves and tentacle monsters to Balin's tomb. The Fellowship's first battle is a rare instance of Gandalf using spectacular magic. In a direct parallel to the Hobbit, it's against attacking wolves, although he seems to have worked on his technique since the previous time. Like I mentioned in the previous chapter, I like that magic in Tolkien's works tends to be somewhat subtle and underplayed; this definitely unsubtle instance is brought about because clearly Sauron, or whatever intelligence is directing the wargs, already knows where they are. It's to escape this situation that they head into Moria for.

The hidden doors of Moria, of course, are very much reminiscent of the secret door into the Lonely Mountain, albeit with differences that make sense. The western doors of Moria, we're told, were usually open and guarded; in olden times, after all, they opened on the elf-country of Hollin. One supposes that they could be shut for the night, when the moon-writing would be visible so that anyone staying out late could still get in, but only if they could read elvish. I think Gandalf's failure of translation is a nice touch.

It's interesting that we don't really get to know anything about what was in the pool and why it attacked. Gandalf is kind of ambivalent on this, pointing out that "there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world", and leaving unsaid that the creature attacked Frodo first. Was this because of the Ring, or did Frodo just happen to be the closest target? Did the creature attack because Boromir threw a rock at it, or was it a deliberate ambush? Based on the text, it's impossible to tell. Personally, I think this kind of uncertainty is one of the strengths of the Lord of the Rings; not everything always needs to be thoroughly explained.

Moria, of course, is the fantasy dungeon. Given that Dungeons & Dragons has its origins in what was more or less historical miniature wargaming meeting Tolkien, I don't think it's a massive exaggeration to say that the dungeon in Dungeons and Dragons is, ultimately, Moria. It also had a big influence on me; it's hardly a coincidence that one of my first major projects in Minecraft was a pillared underground hall and a bridge over a chasm. From D&D through the Warlock of Firetop Mountain to Dragon Age, Moria is here to stay. The abandoned dwarven halls, with their deep darknesses, unexplained noises and, of course, orc hordes, became a fantasy fixture. It really is one of the most evocative places Tolkien ever created.

The possible significance of two ill-considered stones, Boromir's and Pippin's, escapes me. But the discovery of Balin's tomb is one of the most powerful scenes in the Lord of the Rings; no-one had expressed any real hope of finding Balin, but his grave is still an unexpected tragedy. The whole of Moria, in its ruin and darkness, is reminiscent of a tomb. I'm unsure if this, along with the cautionary tale of the dwarves delving too deep, is intended to convey a moral of some kind. Personally, I don't think it is. But Balin's grave more or less closes out the last threads of the Hobbit - other than the Ring! - winding through the story.

Overall, I still find the Fellowship's journey through the dark splendor of Moria awe-inspiring. Next time: Durin's Bane.

Jul 24, 2017

Christianity, the body and neoliberal individualism

There's a huge industry dedicated to making people feel bad about their bodies and then selling them a product, whether cosmetics, clothes, superfoods, a fitness regime, whatever, that will make their supposedly hideous and ugly body more like the photoshopped perfection in these companies' ads. This kind of business model is rightly condemned, but its roots are rarely looked at. The fact is, if you traveled back in time to before this body-shaming nonsense was big business and wanted to found an industry based on tricking people into hating themselves, you would have found the perfect blueprint for your hateful con in the nearest church.

Christianity was born some time in the first century CE as an offshoot of Judaism in Roman-occupied Hellenic Palestine; to make a long story short, it largely consisted of taking a series of Judaic theological ideas and combining them with Greek philosophy and a lively expectation of the end of the world. The Greek philosopher who had the biggest impact on Christian thought was undoubtedly Plato: the dualism and juxtaposition of mind/soul and body in Phaedo became central to Christian theology. In Plato's concept of the universe, the world of ideas was the home of pure truth, while the material world was nothing but a reflection of it. The body, being of the material world, was imperfect and acted as a brake on the higher ambitions of the immaterial soul. Thus Socrates, according to Phaedo according to Plato:

We have found, they will say, a path of speculation which seems to bring us and the argument to the conclusion that while we are in the body, and while the soul is mingled with this mass of evil, our desire will not be satisfied, and our desire is of the truth. For the body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of food; and also is liable to diseases which overtake and impede us in the search after truth: and by filling us so full of loves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies, and idols, and every sort of folly, prevents our ever having, as people say, so much as a thought. For whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the body? For wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and in consequence of all these things the time which ought to be given to philosophy is lost. Moreover, if there is time and an inclination toward philosophy, yet the body introduces a turmoil and confusion and fear into the course of speculation, and hinders us from seeing the truth: and all experience shows that if we would have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body, and the soul in herself must behold all things in themselves: then I suppose that we shall attain that which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers, and that is wisdom, not while we live, but after death, as the argument shows; for if while in company with the body the soul cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things seems to follow-either knowledge is not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not till then, the soul will be in herself alone and without the body.
- Phaedo, trans. by Benjamin Jowett

Christianity eagerly took up this vilification of the body, and created a reinterpretation of the paradise story of Genesis in the Hebrew Bible, where in addition to being the grounds for humanity's expulsion from the Garden of Eden, the episode of the fruit also came to symbolize an original sin, the Fall, which doomed us all to the imperfection of the material world.

Whereas with Plato, the body interfered with the philosopher's quest for truth, in Christian thought the body came to symbolize original sin and acted as a barrier between humanity and God. The body was sinful, and therefore shameful, and had to be disciplined. Thus the apostle Paul:

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.
- 1 Corinthians 9:24-27, New International Version

Later, the writers of what became the canonical gospels had Jesus propound an even more unrealistic and hateful version of the same doctrine:

If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell.
- Matt. 18:8-9, New International Version

It's interesting to note that these teachings never seem to have been taken literally in the early church. When enemies of the third-century theologian Origen wanted to bring hin into disrepute, they spread an apparently false rumor that he had taken the Gospel of Matthew literally and castrated himself - because apparently actually doing what Jesus purportedly commanded would have been universally condemned.

This makes sense if you consider what the purpose of teachings like these are. If you can get people to literally hate their own body, and feel ashamed of their normal everyday life, they'll be permanently unhappy. In Paul's metaphor, the race only ends when you die. This is where the priest comes in. The clergy appoint themselves referees in this ghastly parade of self-flagellation; they can tell the suffering faithful that they're mortifying their bodies enough, or shame them for doing too little. Because ordinary life is a constant progression of sins that are impossible to avoid, a good Christian must necessarily be constantly ashamed and guilty. This gives the priest tremendous power over his congregation; exactly like a cult leader over their cultists, only we don't call them cults any more when they get big enough. So these entirely unhinged commandments to mutilate your own body were never meant to be taken seriously: they're there to give priests power over anyone who makes the mistake of believing in them.

This idea of the filthy, sinful body that needs to be constantly disciplined has since jumped from Christian theology to the weight-loss and beauty industries, where it thrives like it once did in churches. For both Christianity and Weight Watchers, cultivating a mind-body dualism where the body is the repulsive enemy of the mind has been excellent business, because it creates a demand for their services in people whose bodies would have been just fine had they not been taught to loathe them. Then again, at least the beauty industry only wants to sell you stuff you don't need; Christianity has done far worse.

The other prominent descendant of the early church and its hatred of the body is neoliberal individualism. In the logic of contemporary politics, unemployment is always the fault of the person without a job. They just need to try harder. In a neoliberal society, each and every citizen needs to heroically strive forward every day of their lives in order to be eligible for full membership in society. All distinctions of privilege are elided; if you were born poor, you should have worked harder. Those of us who are felt by our ruling elites to not be working hard enough are subjected to a constant stream of patronizing advice on how to get ahead, and it's hardly a coincidence that most of it focuses on disciplining the body. People who have never had to add up the cost of their groceries on their way to the checkout will give sermons on how to eat econonically. Tabloids run by millionaires will stoke rage over excessive "benefits" going to undesirables who will supposedly spend the money on extravagances rather than living frugally like the deserving poor should. If only all these lazy wasters would discipline themselves, the refrain always goes, they wouldn't be so poor. Obviously this political system has complex roots, but it's very difficult to not see more than a hint of the Christian idea of unending self-flagellation to prove one's worth. We even treat mental health problems as symptoms of individual weakness that should be adressed through discipline. The net effect is the same as in Christian theology: you are flawed, you are to blame, you must discipline yourself.

It's worth remembering that whatever cruel and hypocritical scam the advertisers come up with next to shame you into buying their products, or whenever a politician stands up to pour scorn on the lazy and idle parasites of society, they're doing nothing that wasn't pioneered two millenia ago by the apostle Paul and the evangelists.