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bakechochin · 6 years

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The Book Ramblings of June

In place of book reviews, I will be writing these ‘book ramblings’. A lot of the texts I’ve been reading (or plan to read) in recent times are well-known classics, meaning I can’t really write book reviews as I’m used to. I’m reading books that either have already been read by everyone else (and so any attempt to give novel or insightful criticisms would be a tad pointless), or are so convoluted and odd that they defy being analysed as I would do a simpler text. These ramblings are pretty unorganised and hardly anything revolutionary, but I felt the need to write something review-related this year. I’ll upload a rambling compiling all my read books on a monthly basis.

The Man Who Was Thursday - GK Chesterton I bought the Penguin English Library edition of this book mainly because of a tweet that I saw slagging off the cover, saying that the sticks of dynamite in the cover pattern looked like tampons and that 'this could have been avoided if only one woman had looked at the cover’; this irritated me a lot because I know for a fact that the cover was in fact designed by a woman (Coralie Bickford-Smith, to be precise, an artist whose similar works I am also a good fan of), and I wanted to own this edition simply so that I could prove to myself and others that this is the case. However, whilst the cover of this book is indeed very pretty, the texts published in the Penguin English Library collection do not possess the handy introductory chapter at the beginning that the Penguin Classics include, and thus with no frame of reference, I was at something of a loss to describe this book. It is certainly an interesting read insofar as it seemingly refuses to stay as one genre for the whole book. The blurb describes it as a ‘strange and haunting novel’, and at the beginning, this is very appropriate; it depicts a sensationalist image of villainous anarchists and zealous unhinged detectives that is incredibly compelling, and I hold that the character descriptions of the members of the Council of Days (as introduced in chapter five) make for some of the best writing that I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading. By fuck is Chesterton great at characterising these dudes. The blurb describes the novel as a spy thriller, and all seemed to be going well on this front, with a melodramatic but consistent tone maintained for around the first half of the book, with some great twists scattered here and there for good measure. But then things start getting a tad daft, and I’m going to spoil a bit of the plot here because you need to understand how off the rails this shit gets. The adventure grows to involve much of the main cast of antagonists being revealed to be policemen in increasingly convoluted disguises, ridiculously overblown chases in different countries with the stakes being continuously raised in the stupidest and funniest ways, and the main antagonist, built up as a grand unknowable titan of crime and anarchy, escapes the protagonist by leaping over a balcony ‘like an orang-utan’, riding away on a rampaging elephant that he broke out of the zoo, and finally evading capture by flying away on a stolen hot air balloon. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of this sort of shit as a general rule, but by fuck does it seem incongruous in a novel such as this, that is so clever and so beautifully written and, whilst containing its few bits of sensational ridiculousness (as an overt parody of the genre or its tropes), generally quite a serious read. Similarly to The Heat’s On, if this book had just kept on the rails or channelled its madness into chaos that stayed within the genre’s boundaries, instead of just throwing its hands up into the air and screaming, ‘fuck it, put in an elephant chase scene!’, I’d have enjoyed it a lot more. As it is, it reminds me of the overblown nonsense of the 007 stories - this is a novel for dads, I reckon. After finishing this book I then found Beaumont’s introduction to the text, which describes the text as ‘antirealist’, and cites Chesterton’s description of ‘great works which mix up abstractions fit for an epic with fooleries not fit for a pantomime’. As a concept, I can fully get behind this - the juxtaposition of heroics and farcical nonsense puts me in mind of high burlesque, and I’ve always been fully against realism because fuck that noise. But you can’t stick with the idea of this book being wholly antirealist if it takes place in a world recognisable as our own and then suddenly changes to be ludicrous and laughable; that’s just inconsistent, and indeed mildly vexing when I was fully engrossed in the sensational spy thriller. Furthermore, attempting to justify this book’s content by saying that it is reminiscent of a ‘nightmare’ is a bullshit defence, because a) the word ‘nightmare’ could simply be used in reference to this book’s negative depiction of a world in which anarchists triumph in their nasty villainy, and b) it’s difficult to keep the idea of this book’s world supposedly being a dream forefront in one’s mind when it, as mentioned above, represents a view (albeit a sensational one) of reality, with dream nonsense hardly being a part of it at all. That is, of course, until the very end, when the book gives up all pretence of being a spy novel and instead wallows in metaphor and overt Christian imagery before ending abruptly. The ending is bullshit and I don't like it.

Dead Souls - Nikolai Gogol I’ve often cited Gogol as one of my favourite authors, but for the longest time I stayed clear of this book, somewhat daunted by whether what I loved about Gogol’s short stories would translate well to a novel form. This is a different beast to his short stories, but no less interesting to talk about, and indeed possessing many of the short story’s positive attributes, for all of the excellent writing, characterisation, and understanding of the fun nuances of society abounds here as it does in his shorter works. Apparently Gogol was attempting to recreate the structure and overall vibe of The Odyssey and other such Homeric epics in prose form, and although the overall setting and storyline does not reflect the grand awe-inspiring epics of the past, I’ll be buggered if the story’s writing and tone doesn’t somehow achieve it. This is not, despite what some critics have said, due to Gogol’s tendency to ramble on about unrelated digressions (a device apparently comparable to Homeric epics), or at least it didn’t stick out to me as such when I read it - that’s just kind of what Gogol does. No, it’s the writing and tone, as mentioned above, that seems to ape the Homeric tone, in such a way that you wouldn’t notice its explicit presence until after you’d been informed of it, and yet when you are aware of the Homeric influence you see it everywhere clear as day; I’d call it an ineffable concept but that’s just me trying to cover up for the fact that I can’t find the words, because I’m bad at writing these things. But I digress. Gogol’s excellent means of conveying character voices shines as always in this text, but I can’t feel like I’m missing the extent of it because I’m reading it in English. The introduction by Robert A Maguire describes Gogol’s extensive research into ‘all the prosaic rubbish of life, all the rags’, and makes efforts to incorporate such minor details as regional slang, official jargon, outdated terminology, etc. into his characters’ voices, but I fear that I’m missing some of the nuances of these techniques by my lack of knowledge in these fields or that some of the subtleties in language don’t translate as well as they ought to. Of course there are some characters which exemplify Gogol’s skill at diverse voices, such as some of the peasant muzhiks and one of my favourite characters Nozdryov (who draws from a wide array of sources for his dialogue with hilarious results), but there are some instances in which the character voices seem somewhat interchangeable, especially considering how a lot of individual personality is often subsumed by the necessity of upholding social decorum, and thus there are many characters who only speak in refined socially acceptable manners. The characters themselves are all bloody great, be they individual grotesque landowners or incredibly detailed and often brilliantly satirical descriptions of wider groups or demographics. Whilst the writing remains as excellent as ever, the characters in the second part of the book lack the grotesque simplicity of those in the first part - indeed, efforts are made by Gogol to give them complex fleshed-out characterisation - and subsequently these new characters are nowhere near as memorable as the fantastic personifications of negative traits that we got in the first part. Yeah, I forgot to mention, this book is technically made up of two parts, the first part highlighting the problems of society and the second part intended to delve into the resolution of some of these issues; of course, the second part does not exist in its entirety, because Gogol was a great fan of melodramatically burning his manuscripts, but it’s not a major issue because what does survive of the full text is amazing enough on its own (specifically the entirety of part one). Plus, I’ve delved into my thoughts of authors trying to ‘change the world’ through their works (in that I think that it’s a fool’s notion and only really serves to exemplify the author’s delusion), so I’m content with this text only portraying the detrimental aspects of society, as opposed to trying to fix them. I am quite fond of the narrator in this book. Similarly to his short stories, Gogol employs a narrative voice that exists almost as a character in of itself, and I don’t just mean that in the sense of ‘it’s got a lot of personality’. The narrative voice apologises for the story’s content and makes changes in an attempt to preserve decorum, it makes excuses for the story’s characters (especially the protagonist Chichikov), it often reveals information at the same rate as the characters within the setting discover things and have epiphanies, and it even establishes itself as a character with a physical voice as it only chooses to speak of Chichikov’s past when Chichikov himself is asleep, and apologises all the while lest he somehow slight the man. Bringing up this also gives me an opportunity to briefly mention the 2006 BBC radio adaptation for this, which establishes the narrator as a physical character in all scenes to humourous effect (and what’s more gave me yet more reason to love Mark Heap, who makes for a fucking excellent Chichikov). But I digress. Part two of the novel, as mentioned above, does not possess the same sort of wonderfully grotesque characters as part one, and considering that this is a novel defined mainly by its characters, this is somewhat problematic. The plot of part two is perhaps vaguely interesting, even though it seems to shunt the titular focus of dead souls to the side somewhat, but all in all I found it difficult to be too invested in this new story due to its lack of compelling characters. In addition, the Homeric epic tone of part one is somewhat absent, and without a distinctive narrative voice, the narrative suffers. I feel bad shitting on part two, since it was everyone else shitting on part two that catalysed Gogol to burn the manuscript (again) and possibly starve himself to death. Honestly, the first part is bloody amazing, so just read that and then be satisfied with the knowledge that your opinion of the book overall has not been tarnished by the shoddy second part. Sorry Gogol.

Complete Short Fiction - Oscar Wilde I’ve been vaguely aware of Wilde’s short fiction for a while now, having read a selection of his fairy tales and ‘Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime’ (a favourite of mine) for uni, so I decided to give his complete collection a shot. The Penguin Classics edition of his short fiction is separated into his different published collections, but can generally be categorised as either fairy tales or miscellaneous short stories. I’ve studied a shit load of fairy tale authors/compilers (Basile, Straparola, Perrault, the Brothers Grimm, Andersen, Wilde and whoever compiles the radical Russian fairy tales), and Wilde is certainly my favourite of the bunch. The specific blend of Wilde-esque traits incorporated into the fairy tale format make up my favourite fairy tales of any author - this is by no means all of Wilde’s fairy tales, but I’ll get into that. My favourite fairy tales of Wilde take place in a world vaguely recognisable as our own, or at least existing as an exaggerated facsimile of our own society, not just because the urban setting reminds me of Hoffmann’s ‘The Golden Pot’, but because such a setting allows for some heavy-handed but undeniably hilarious social commentary and satire. Such satire works especially well when juxtaposing the romanticised world of the fairy tale with the grimmer reality of Wilde’s society - the two tales that commence the collection, ‘The Happy Prince’ and ’The Nightingale and the Rose’, exemplify this excellently. Whilst I liked the satire attainable by setting the fairy tale in an urban society environment, similar levels of hilarity are obtained via Wilde’s satirical look at certain character archetypes (the titular character in ‘The Remarkable Rocket’ being my favourite example). The fairy tales obviously possess their morals and their teachings (though I was a fan of how this is subverted slightly by some characters actively avoiding, misinterpreting or arguing with the story’s moral), but the tropes that we’d expect to see in fairy tales - the morals from Perrault, the recurring overt ties to Christianity from Andersen, etc. - are not why I like Wilde’s fairy tales so much. The tales in the collection titled A House of Pomegranates are undeniably excellently written, and what’s more include some fantastic settings inspired by the Victorian obsession with the Orient that allow for phenomenal and evocative descriptive writing (the likes of which is not seen in any other of Wilde’s fairy tales), but they fail to capture my preferred positive attributes that the aforementioned tales possess. I cheekily skipped 'The Portrait of Mr W H' because I’d heard from a mate who had also read it that it was a long and dull read, and thus refrained from checking it out lest it tarnish my idealised view of Wilde. I’m sure I’ll live with myself knowing that I haven’t read Wilde’s entire body of works. Indeed, who gives half a toss about that when we’ve still got to talk about the last remaining collection contained within this publication: ‘Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime and Other Stories’, which is not made up of fairy tales but other ‘popular’ genres of writing. Taken at face value, the stories’ content of murder, ghosts, and mystery slot in nicely alongside the fairy tales, in that they can all be considered, at face value, writings intended to appeal to the low-brow interests of the masses. They are, of course, more than that, possessing some great subversions of genre tropes and Wilde’s typical social satire, which all comes together to make the short stories (in particular ‘Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime’ and ‘The Canterville Ghost’) hilarious and very enjoyable reads. The fact that these stories are written with the primary intentions of entertaining, rather than revolutionising the written form or making one think about grand philosophical themes, means that I can’t really offer anything about the stories other than that they’re fucking good and that you should go and read them.

Shit I read this month that I couldn’t be arsed to write about: A Short History of Drunkenness by Mark Forsyth (which I started back in December(?) last year, forgot about until now, and love immensely), and ‘The Penal Colony’ by Kafka (it was much more enjoyable than the other works by Kafka that I’ve read, but that isn’t really saying much).

#book reviews #book ramblings #the man who was thursday #gk chesterton #dead souls #nikolai gogol #oscar wilde #lord arthur savile's crime #the canterville ghost #the happy prince #the remarkable rocket #the nightingale and the rose

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derkastellan · 6 years

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Musings: Staying on-topic in setting design

I gave myself the time to read some RPG products, and I ended up in the genre of horror science fiction. I have an enormous backlog of products I have bought over the years but haven’t read, and so I simply picked some - Jovian Nightmares (for Call of Cthulhu), Eldritch Skies (for Savage Worlds), and Shadows Over Soul (especially Siren’s Call but also all supplements, for Saga Machine). Let me say I enjoyed the last series of products so much I basically have not found time to delve deeper into Eldritch Skies.

Jovian Nightmares introduces itself as a supplement for Cthulhu Rising, itself a setting supplement for the Call of Cthulhu role-playing game. It focuses on “Circum-Jove”, the Jupiter system. Since Jupiter is a gas giant science fiction settings usually focus on the colonization of its moons, or in rarer cases, interaction with Jupiter’s upper atmospheric layers.

Ever since reading the Buck Rogers XXVc roleplaying game in the early 90s Jupiter (and by extension Saturn) have fascinated me. The excellent material from the game box was evoking and interesting, and the distant world of moons and moonlets have kept drawing me back in over the years. So when I saw this supplement, I simply grabbed it. Also, a book can do worse to get my attention than having a dead astronaut on its cover.

So, this started me on the path to reading a bit of sci-fi. (Spoilers ahead, so ye be warned.)

The Jovian Nightmares setting is well-detailed, and you have to read quite a while to notice how the setting misses the mark. Practically all of the book is simply a science fiction setting supplement - and while interesting enough (more about that in a moment) it lacks one thing: Lovecraftian horror. Given it being advertised as “nightmares” this seems surprising. You might miss it if you’re not inclined to look for it.

The book contains 5 pages of setting secrets, several of which are repetitive paragraphs. Your mileage may vary, but almost without fail I have ended up being disappointed in products that feature a few pages of setting secrets. Almost invariably these come down to a paragraph or two per setting secret and end up not being very evocative, leaving the job almost entirely to the GM. Jovian Nightmares is a bit better than that, but the reality of it all is that its setting secrets are almost entirely useless.

A setting secret must not be “too secret.” Yet some of the secrets have no impact on gameplay by themselves. Who cares what lies at the heart of Jupiter? Or what is the reason for the Great Red Spot? We all do, but the players won’t care because the way the book establishes things they won’t ever find out. It’s useless information. The book also refuses to innovate in terms of Lovecraftian horrors, either repeating same-ol’-same-ol’ by parading out Mi-Go doing Mi-Go things (yes, they still put brains in jars in the 23rd century... we can only assume it’s a fetish), and some randomly tied-in Fire Vampires, Colors-Out-Of-Space, some Deep Ones, a possible tie-in to R’lyeh...

Boring.

Here is someone capable of writing a whole sci-fi supplement of a decent quality, quite readable, and then forgets to put actual horror in. Horror that lurks and waits for players. Horror that wants to jump at players. Yes, there’s a short story and an adventure in there, but in my opinion a setting has to evoke and convince by itself. It is not enough to give it to a GM and say “Now you come up with what to do in it.” After reading it a GM should be inspired, have hooks and leads, and maybe already the spine of a campaign. Here we are left wondering what’s so horrible about the whole thing.

Another, minor gripe. Circum-Jove is actually not humanity’s farthest outpost. Instead, it fuels humanity’s exodus to other stars. A new element called “Foscolium” is introduced, considered to be vital for interstellar expansion. But it is not tied into the Mythos. That seemed like a big opportunity passed by, the chance to tie a new door opening for humanity with something more sinister. And as I read the supplement I wondered what cool new things humanity would discover elsewhere. This makes Circum-Jove less interesting. It’s not the final frontier. It’s just a frontier. Space travel within the solar system naturally becomes less interesting if somebody can just hop to Alpha Centauri or Barnard’s Star instead. If stuff becomes too hard there, why bother? New vistas!

The setting tries to tie in mining Jupiter moon Io for the new element as precondition for interstellar expansion. This means that the players are working stiffs doing their job so others can go to new worlds and build new lives. That seems awfully prosaic. And while there is a place for such science fiction one is left to wonder if this was a great choice for the supplement.

Jovian Nightmares, in other words, inspired more reading elsewhere. It is a solid work but it has its limitations.

I don’t want to go too deep into Shadows Over Sol since I still want to play it in the future, and saying too much here might spoil it to players. But general thoughts are valid to share.

By not introducing faster-than-light (FTL) travel SOL actually manages to have a foot in two worlds - the 23rd century where humanity expands into the Jupiter and Saturn systems. And the 27th century when human colonists arrive in Alpha Centauri - a 400 year one-way trip. By separating these settings both have validity. The settlers of Siren’s Call have a different world and different problems than the Martian and Jovian settlers of the core game. Both stories remain engaging. By expanding the game into the interstellar realm this way the original game still stays playable.

SOL does a great job of portraying a hard sci-fi setting with humanity split into cultural instead of national tribes. It does a great job of portraying a world of fading nation states, ascending corporations, a networked, simulated world, a “meatspace” world... It seems a tad to conservative on plotting the progress in AI and Augmented Reality, but if you want to write a sci-fi setting not completely colored and taken over by these issues, this is valid. And reality seems to play odd tricks on sci-fi anyway within precious few years - 2015 is already three years ago...

The setting of SOL doesn’t have horror written in big letters over it, anyway. It’s horror seems more personal, encountered by few. Which is of course appropriate. To be entirely fair one gets a much better feel of the horror inherent in the setting by looking at the released adventure books than the core book, which is a weak point it shares with Jovian Nightmares. Nevertheless the book seems to be willing to create its horror from the fact that humanity is always a step ahead with its ambitions of what it can safely do. While this isn’t per se more interesting than Lovecraftian horror, it allows for unexpected variation more than sticking with somewhat tired Cthulhu tropes. (I’m not trying to piss here on the whole Mythos, I’m just saying that some authors simply recycle stuff up to 80 to 90 years old while others definitely expand on the Mythos in interesting ways.)

You could remove the horror entirely from both settings and you would at the very least get a decent (Jovian Nightmares) or excellent (SOL) sci-fi game. In the end, SOL does several things much better than JN. The game constantly expands on setting seeds, introducing some (and originally with the same limitations mentioned above) but also expanding some in interesting ways. Where JN fails to even remotely give the GM an answer, SOL introduces either an answer or several eventually, giving GMs both concrete ideas and a choice. Not all seeds are gold. But some I simply wanted to know more about many of them. I’m in fact waiting for future supplements to tell me more about this world.

So, staying on-topic, eh? Kinda missed that boat myself. Both settings do a bit, too. Both are science fiction settings first and foremost. But SOL makes room for horror, and its adventures give you a guideline how to do horror here. It doesn’t simply throw you a setting and say “Hey, here are some Lovecraftian horrors, do something.” It stays on-topic much better than the other, if in the end not perfectly. It, on occasion, shamelessly recycles other horror as well. I won’t excuse that but hey, that’s what RPGs often do.

So, what is staying on topic in setting design? If you want to make a horror game, make space for horror. Expand the Unknown. Your world ideally has a dark underbelly which the characters learn about. Something which changes your conception of the world. Something which turns your ideas about the world on its head - you’re not the apex predator. You’re in danger. You’re not safe. They’re coming for you. Frankly, both settings fail this test. Lovecraft (the original) does them both one better. His time-traveling species invade your mind. His classic Ctulhu invades your dreams and tries to subvert the world. His monsters appear and you can do precious little about them. And many of his successors stuck with that - meaningless victories, invasion, loss of control. These themes have to come to the front and be part of the struggle players face.

That would be staying on-topic in the horror genre. Each genre or mix of genres has its own way of staying on topic. I still wait to do myself a satisfying version of Fantasy Horror. Given how horrific lots of monsters are, the horror part of the experience is frankly still explored too little.

And now to get back to reading Eldritch Skies... Its approach to Lovecraftian sci-fi seems exciting but I cannot say yet anything about the quality of its execution. Another time...

#call of cthulhu #shadows over sol #jovian nightmares #siren's call #pen & paper #roleplaying #rpg

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