"The Tyranny of Fun"

I'm not certain just who coined this phrase, but it both amuses me and pisses me off. To begin with, I'll define what this is supposed to mean (based on what I've read online on other blogs of certain self-proclaimed 'old school' gamers): 

The "Tyranny of Fun" :  A movement within gaming (and specifically D&D) that suggests that play should be centered around the players having fun—at the expense of any challenge or 'realism'.

This amuses me for a few reasons. First of all, there is the definition of game:

Game: an amusement or pastime

And then the definitions of amusement and amuse and pastime

Amusement: anything that amuses; pastime; entertainment

Amuse: to hold the attention of (someone) pleasantly; entertain or divert in an enjoyable or cheerful manner

Pastime: something that serves to make time pass agreeably; a pleasant means of amusement, recreation or sport.

Thus a game is something that is supposed to hold your attention pleasantly, make time pass agreeably, and divert in an enjoyable manner. You know what? That sounds pretty good to me.

The argument that the term 'fun' is subjective, and therefore not a valid argument is in itself not valid. When the thing in question is a GAME, fun and subjectivity are at the heart of the matter. And because everyone's sense of fun is subjective, it means people choose the types of games they enjoy playing—or in the case of RPGs, they adopt a playing style with the established rules that caters to their likes. In a game, I don't see anything at all wrong with that—because we are just talking about a GAME not life.

So what if the mainstream (4th Edition) D&D is taking a turn that you don't personally care for. Nothing ever stays the same. And if the company is doing something wrong, then the marketplace will reveal it and the game will stop selling. I think the part that really sticks in the craw of a lot of old-schoolers is more of a generational matter than anything else. Generation X (and older) sees Generation Y as a bunch of self-involved punks with a sense of entitlement, who whine if everything doesn't go their way. 

Like many stereotypes, there is a nugget of truth at its heart. Some Generation Y people are exactly that—the embodiment of entitlement. But not all. And honestly, the people who really get into gaming are (in my experience at least) usually pretty smart and creative people. To say that the latest generation are all a bunch of ignorant brats is selling them—and ourselves—short. In fact, it smacks to me of old men yelling at kids to 'get off their lawn'. Its kind of embarrassing for me, being one of the 'old men'. 

A more valid question about the latest generation of games is whether or not they cater to the perceived shortcomings of Generation Y. Are they making the situation worse by reinforcing the 'everyone is special' mentality that so many people see? Honestly, I can't answer that question. And most of the people who seem to be complaining about that don't seem to be able to either, as almost all of them begin their arguments with "Well, I don't play 4th edition, but..." I don't play 4th edition, or D&D, in fact (not for years and years). So I don't consider myself qualified to answer this question—and I am willing to give those snot-nosed punks the benefit of the doubt. 4th edition isn't my cup of tea (I know from what I've read of it first hand), but I don't berate others for playing it. 

So there you see my amusement with the whole 'Tyranny of Fun' issue. People complaining that others aren't 'doing it right' (i.e. the way we did it when we were their ages). It IS amusing to see people taking an AMUSEMENT so seriously. I mean, when you look at it from the outside it is giggle-worthy: gamers are angry because other gamers actually want to have FUN in their games! The nerve!

And that is where my own amusement begins to turn to annoyance and anger. 

I've never 'called anyone out' before (and I'm not really trying to), but one blog in particular got me thinking about the whole thing: James Raggi, of Lamentations of the Flame Princess. He's very outspoken and I'd say that 99-percent of the time I agree with or at the very least understand the issues he brings up. I also know that, like a lot of us bloggers, he is speaking from the heart and perhaps WANTS to stir things up. That's fine. So do I.

But a couple things in particular stuck in my craw (wow, lots of craw sticking in this post). Those were these statements:

'sitting down playing pretend in order to compensate for inadequacies in life is very sad'.

and

'people who do see RPGs as wish fulfillment are really kind of sad. You really want to be a dashing hero? Then go DO it and stop sitting around pretending to do it.'

This was said in support of his argument against fun being  a viable argument for how a game is run. This is a very tired tactic in my book—a personal attack, seeming to suggest that gamers who don't play the 'RIGHT' way are compensating for their own miserable lives at home. The whole term 'playing pretend' is insulting as well—especially when you consider that the hobby IS playing pretend, even when you do do it the 'RIGHT' way.

As a person who seeks fun first and challenge second, I am definitely not doing things the RIGHT way in James' opinion. Hence that barb was evidently intended to hit me. 

Well, guess what. I'm not compensating for anything with the way I play. I play to have fun. I enjoy challenges, I enjoy the heroic journey of characters from lowly amateurs to epic figures. My players enjoy challenges as well. They like moral dilemmas, puzzles, personal interactions. All of that. You can play for fun and not be in it for instant gratification. And to assume (as James apparently does) that anyone who thinks otherwise is obviously one of THOSE people..well, its just narrow-minded.

And if I were vindictive, I could turn the argument around that people who read too much into the importance of their hobbies are sad; That people who seem to think that 'realistic' gaming is somehow a noble and praiseworthy endeavor are sad. Yes. I wish I were a great hero and explorer. But I'm not—I don't have the physical or mental endurance for that. I admit it, and yet its fun to pretend. Just like it was when you were on the playground as a kid. But to suggest that running a REAL game is a REAL accomplishment is (again) sad. There was a guy in one of the old X-File episodes that seemed to epitomize this attitude in his famous (to me) quote:

"Well, you don't play D&D for as long as I have without learning a thing or two about courage."

Okay, so maybe that was vindictive. But anyway...

The reason I was angered by Raggi's statements was not because they hit too close to home, but because nobody likes being forced into someone else's stereotype. I am not defined by my amusements—by the games I play. They are there for me (and my friends) to have fun—its that simple. Nothing more serious or noble. I am, however, defined by what those amusements did for me. Through games, I met almost all of the best friends in my life. The fact that I am happy and surrounded by friends is a very REAL accomplishment—one that I am proud of. And if you're looking for more self-justification than that from a GAME, well...then that is sad.

So there you have it. I guess I'm part of the Tyranny of Fun. But I'd prefer that to the Tyranny of pretentiousness.

Using Modules

From my previous posts, I think its pretty clear that I enjoyed (and enjoy) using the 'official' adventure modules written for the Star Wars system. In fact this extends into other games as well. A lot of GMs (or at least ones I've been reading about) aren't always too keen on using published materials—for various reasons. I can see where they're coming from in a lot of cases. Some modules are just plain bad. Others don't fit in with the type of campaign you're trying to run. Plus, there is always the sense of GM pride when YOU come up with the idea.

Still, none of these reasons ever prevented me from utilizing modules. Why? Because even early on I viewed most of these as simply 'starter' ideas for me to expand upon. Thus, even a crappy adventure can be salvaged and turned into something useful. While I found very few of the Star Wars adventures to be 'crappy', there were several that I thought were sub-par. For example, a lot of the adventures in 'Twin Suns of Kira' and 'Politics of Contraband' were pretty sketchy and even goofy (a starfish man wearing a fedora?). But in most cases the IDEA was sound. Thus, once you took out Starfish Fedora man (and some of the other goofy touches), the idea of a treasure hunt vs. several rival ship crews was workable, and fun. So in answer to the argument: some modules are crappy, my response is: only if you let them be.

Likewise, when a module doesn't seem to fit your campaign, there are usually ways to twist and modify it to make it fit. Use the module as a framework rather than an exact blueprint. In fact, even if the adventure DOES fit, its nice to put personal touches to link it in with your own campaign. For example, in the adventure 'Domain of Evil', there was a rather 'generic' opening where the players ship is ambushed by hunters and crashes. This was a bounty-hunter who I'd never used in my campaign before, so it didn't really have a personal feeling to it. So before the adventure, I ran a little scene where one of my recurring NPCs (Zardra) actually set up the party and put them in position to be ambushed. It was a small thing, really, but it helped to make this adventure feel more like it was tailored for the party. 

When you really examine them, the first two arguments against modules pale when compared to the third—the pride of a GM in creating their own adventure. While I did run an awful lot of stock modules (I would even say that the majority of the first two years was primarily from module play) there is something enormously satisfying about coming up with your own idea. There is what I call the 'pride of creation'. It helps feed a GMs ego to know that they can point to something and say that it is theirs—especially when the players love it. 

I can remember one instance of this in my own GM career, in the 'Otherspace III' adventure I wrote. It was a sequel and epic climax for the Otherspace 'trilogy' (as I saw it). I labored on it for weeks and I still felt 'unprepared' when I finally ran it for my players. But it came off spectacularly. Even recently, some of my players commented on just how much fun they had with that adventure. Yeah, it felt good that something that I did had that much impact. It fed my ego, just like it would feed anyone elses. But then reality set in, as it always does—I couldn't imagine always putting as much work into every adventure as I had into that one. The simple 'physics' of trying to run a weekly game for practically 9 months out of the year just wouldn't allow for that. Thus, I saw, modules as the fuel that kept my campaign going. 

The fact is, that a written module becomes your adventure as you run it. Even if you don't change much of it, your interpretation and 'spin' can easily make it unique. And though I still get a kick out of making my own adventures, I don't feel any less 'creative' than any other DM for running pre-packaged stuff.

Star Wars Soundtracks: Sith

I'm not a HUGE Police fan, but from the moment I first heard this song, it brought up images of the relationship between a Sith Master and Apprentice. I'll post the lyrics here. Tell me if I'm crazy or not...

You consider me the young apprentice

Caught between the Scylla and Charybdis

Hypnotized by you if I should linger

Staring at the ring around your finger

I have only come here seeking knowledge

Things they would not teach me of in college

I can see the destiny you sold

turned into a shining band of gold

(Chorus)

I'll be wrapped around your finger

I'll be wrapped around your finger

Mephistopholes is not your name

But I know what you're up to just the same

I will listen hard to your tuition

And you will see it come to its fruition

(Chorus)

I'll be wrapped around your finger

I'll be wrapped around your finger

Devil and the deep blue sea behind me

Vanish in the air you'll never find me

I will turn your face to alabaster

Then you'll find your servant is your master

(Chorus)

You'll be wrapped around my finger

You'll be wrapped around my finger

You'll be wrapped around my finger

Villainy

In a game like Dungeons and Dragons, the lines between good and evil were often a bit blurry. After all, characters were essentially thieves and grave-robbers, slaughtering monsters and taking their stuff. Oh, sure, you could run a good guy, but in many of the original dungeon crawls the motivation was little more than wealth and fame—not exactly 'heroic'. Quite notably, the alignment system detailed good, neutral and evil—and made no suggestions towards one over the other. From what I've read of the earliest D&D campaigns, they included quite a few neutral and evil characters. So, simply put, games like D&D easily allowed 'evil' campaigns.

Evil characters and evil campaigning never really interested me. When I read about the evil alignments I thought they were interesting in helping define villains, but never thought characters would actually PLAY (or even want to play) them. I tried an evil campaign in high-school and it quickly degenerated into just murdering people (villagers and the like) and taking their stuff. I lost interest—though I'm not sure if it degenerated because I lost interest or vice versa. It is a problem I have noticed in my outlook. Simply put: I can't sympathize with evil characters. And thus, from a gaming viewpoint, I can't get excited about running stuff for them.

This extends past gaming, however, into movies. The Godfather is a prime example. While I can recognize the cinematic artistry of the film, I still do not enjoy it overall—because I don't CARE about the Corleones. At the core they're bad people who hurt and kill others to make a living. As far as I'm concerned, they all get what's coming to them. The same things applies to a lot of other 'Dark Heroes' and 'Anti-Heroes' in movies and literature. I can't sympathize.

And that is probably the root of the problem I have with villainous campaigns. I don't care about the success or failure of the characters—and indeed, I am sort of rooting for them to fail (even if I don't necessarily stack the game against them). 

There has been only been one exception to this rule, and I think it is only an exception because the game was relatively brief. I was running a D&D campaign where one of the characters—the aptly named 'Orcus' the half-orc—was Lawful Evil. He was ambitious and (relatively) 'moderate' in his evilness. He didn't (usually) kill people randomly, but woe to those who stood in his way. I think the reason I found this campaign palatable (and actually fun) was because he DID have an ultimate goal in mind—to create/take control of an Orcish empire. Thus, he wasn't aimlessly slaughtering villagers to take their stuff, he was rather doggedly building a power-base to 'tame' the orcish hordes to his will. Interestingly enough, Orcus' party consisted of a Lawful Neutral fighter (Hugh) and a Lawful Good Ranger (Miles). Hugh, a former town guardsman, tagged along because he too was interested in having the Orc hordes tamed. Miles likewise had a similar goal. So despite their differences, they worked rather well together, and in the end, they managed to depose the Orc Warlord and put Orcus in his stead, thus preventing (for the moment at least) what could have been a massive humanoid invasion. That's where the campaign ended, in fact. And I'm kind of glad it did, as it may have turned quickly more 'evil' from that point.

That exception aside, my dislike of and inability to play villains has even translated into video (console) gaming. Vice city was my first real encounter with this. While it was initially fun to run over pedestrians, cops and hookers, I rather quickly lost interest in my character. In fact, I was kind of frustrated by the decisions the game forced him to make. But then I realized that the game WAS all about becoming a drug lord—not a nice guy.

A lot of games and RPGs now allow for you to play as either good or evil. The first of these that I played was Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. I, of course, played through as a good guy, then pondered playing through as a bad guy, but...I just could not bring myself to do it. I felt BAD about being such a Jerk in most cases, and had grown to love the other characters so much that it actually bothered me to consider having to kill them (no way could I do that to Jolee...though, well...maybe I wouldn't feel QUITE so bad killing Juhani). Thus, the 'evil' path of that game was never taken by me. Nor was it taken in the sequel, KotOR II or in any other game I played since (Fable II, Fallout 3). 

About the only time I did go the 'evil' route was in Mass Effect—but there it really isn't a distinction between good and evil. The 'Renegade' path is more about being a callous, brutal jerk than it is about mustache-twirling evil. After all, you're still out to stop the bad guys, but the Renegade just doesn't care who gets in his way. In fact, there are a few times in ME that the Renegade was more fun than the Paragon—like when the good guy councilor teases you:

Councilor: "There is a saying on your Earth: Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

Me: "We have another saying, councilor: Go to hell."

There is also the time where you encounter your 'biggest fan' and he wants to become your sidekick. The renegade response is to stick your gun in the guy's face and ask (I paraphrase): "This is my life. This is what I have to put up with every day, people trying to kill me. You sure you want to do this?"

Hehe. Good stuff.

But in any case, how this brings me back around to Star Wars (hah! Bet you didn't see that coming!) is that I LOVED the fact that it was designed around heroic roleplay, and how specifically it states that if a player turns evil (gains too many Dark Side points) they become an NPC under the control of the GM. That dovetailed nicely with my own dislike of running villainy. The Force point system also encouraged good and heroic roleplay by only rewarding players for heroically using their points. 

But with such a specific 'genre' like Star Wars, you'd almost expect it to be like that. You're trying to recapture the feeling of the movies, and in the movies, the good guys are the heroes. Oh sure, you can use the D6 rule system to run an evil or a 'neutral' campaign, but if you do, it just doesn't feel like Star Wars (I know, I ran a short-lived smuggler-crew campaign and it just felt...wrong). And that is kind of what turned me off of the d20 edition of the game (well, that and the entire system). It just felt like D&D in space, complete with the lack of implied morality.

So yes, I know this is all just my personal feelings, preferences and opinion, but its my blog, so I thought I'd throw them out there.

Worst (and best) GMs and Players

In perusing the other blogs I follow, I came across a new thread talking about the 'worst GM' or 'worst player' you ever had.  Being fond of bandwagon jumping, this is my attempt to clamber onboard. The only problem is, I haven't REALLY been a player very often—and on top of that, I've never really had any 'nightmare' experiences with either players OR GMs. Therefore, the best I can do is talk about the worst (and best) gaming experiences I've had.

I'll start with GMs. Oddly enough, one of the 'worst' experiences I had was with the guy who GMed what turned out to be the most favorite campaigns I ever played in. Doyce was (and is) a very creative and energetic guy. He's a writer, and his campaigns were always done with a sense for story and the dramatic. That being said, he also had a tendency to put so much effort into something that when it got around to actually doing it, he would burn out quickly. Another of his tendencies was to sometimes enjoy the STORY of an adventure so much that he forgot to let his players actually AFFECT the story. 

This was the case in one of my 'worst' gaming experiences. Doyce was running a science-fiction campaign (using the 'Worlds Beyond' system). He had gotten a stock adventure out of some gaming magazine and was having us run through it. The adventure involved exploring a crashed starship and slowly discovering the horrible aliens that dwelled inside. Things were going along just fine at first. We were in the spooky haunted house ship and got the feeling that something BAD was there—and it was starting to get late and dark outside. This is where the adventure called for us (the party) to camp out in the spooky ship, thus giving the aliens a chance to wreak havoc with us. Unfortunately, we didn't want any part of that. 

Instead, we decided to pile back up on our little super-sonic shuttle craft and fly back to the main starport and relax in a hotel. We could tell that this totally threw Doyce for a loop. He started coming up with reasons why we couldn't—as in it would take too much time. One of the others pointed out that it would only be about a one or two hour trip in our shuttle. Not bad at all really. Doyce was perturbed—and from a GM's viewpoint, I could see why, but honestly players rarely ever act like people in horror movies. We generally like to be as safe and smart as possible. This means NOT sleeping in creepy, alien-infested ships. Unfortunately, the session degenerated from there as we all kind of joined in 'heckling' (good naturedly) Doyce's attempts to convince us to stay at the ship. 

As these things do, it quickly turned to the ridiculous—where we were planning on hiring 'guard bears' for our camp (don't ask) and using rice-krispies spread on the floor as an early-warning device (again, don't ask). This incident has since become known as the 'Flaming Bears of Ixion' incident—though honestly, I can't remember why the bears were on fire or even if the planet in question was Ixion. This whole thing happened during the 'waning' phase of Doyce's interest in the system and campaign, and thus it was kind of the final nail in the coffin of the whole thing (more or less). So there you have it. My 'worst' GM experience really wasn't that bad at all. In fact, it was actually kind of funny. 

If Doyce ever reads this, I hope he will do so with a smile on his face, because he is also an example of one of my BEST GMs ever. He ran an on-again-off-again Dark Conspiracy campaign—actually utilizing the hideously flawed GDW system. But the system really didn't matter. The campaign was a blast—with a lot of character moments and memorable situations—like my character's penchant for getting shot/bit/stung/burned/impaled/etc. ALWAYS in the left leg (and sometimes by members of his own party!). There was also the time the entire stealthy party was sneaking its way up to the creepy mansion only to suddenly discover that one of the group had NO stealth skills whatsoever and was just marching boldly and noisily up the lane (picture a bunch of camouflaged commando types watching in horror as one of their number just plods on by in plain view).

There was also the 'I wear my Beret into combat!' incident. That one made me respect Doyce a lot. And laugh a lot. The group was going to raid an office building infested with alien bugs. So all the prudent members of the group were suiting up in full body armor and helmets. One of the guys decided his character, a former green-beret, was going to forgo the helmet and wear his beret instead because he was just that much of a badass. Of course, anyone who has ever read a Greek tragedy knows this kind of hubris cannot go unanswered. The player here only compounded his bad karma by later, in the thick of the point-blank gun battle with the bugs, declaring that, on his next action: "I am going to fire a fully-automatic burst with my combat shotgun". Doyce reminded him that other players were in the area and likely to be injured or killed. The player didn't seem to care. It was then the Alien Bug's turn and wouldn't you know it? A giant, spike-clawed leg descended on the beret-wearing monster-hunter. Hit location? Head. Down he went, his shotgun clattering to the floor. The rest of us were able to (more or less) kill the rest of the bugs and then run away (dragging mr. Beret's limp body with us). From that day on, that player (Rick Harvey) would forever be known to my gaming group as "Headshot Harvey". 

At the time, we all thought it WAS just Karma. Only months later did Doyce reveal to us that he fudged the hit-location—thus putting the cocky player and character in their place (and saving the rest of the party from what might have otherwise been a party-killing move by the guy). Heh, it was funny and it was a bold move from our GM. I still giggle about it.

But as much as I enjoyed Dark Conspiracy, the best campaign I ever played in was Doyce's short-lived Mythus game. Again, the system seemed rather bizarre and flawed, but that didn't matter. Utilizing a copy of the absolutely incredible 'Free City of Haven' setting, Doyce ran me and a small group of players through a short series of adventures in this fantasy setting, and I loved every minute of it. As I recall, it only lasted three months—from beginning to end of the summer—before Doyce again lost interest. Sniff. Alas. 

Wow. Talk about rambling. What was the topic of this post again? Oh, right! Best and Worst GMs and players! Lets continue with that:

As far as worst players go, I have only a couple—but again, their 'transgressions' weren't really all that bad. I suspect that many gamers are just like them. Troy (who played Starstalker in my Star War campaign) is what we called a 'twink' or a 'gunbunny' . He didn't seem care much about story, or drama, or roleplaying. He just liked to shoot stuff and to buy bigger and better guns and armor. In a lot of games, this really wouldn't be THAT much of a big thing—but in a story-driven system like Star Wars, he stood out like a sore thumb. While everyone else was problem-solving their way through the adventure, Troy was looting the bodies of dead stormtroopers and seeing if they had any money on them (you know, typical gamer stuff that you learn to do in dungeon-crawl type games). 

Likewise, the player of the 'Jedi' Yelstain Keete (his name was Todd, but not the same Todd who plays Ruukhan and Horatio), brought a distinctly power-gamer attitude into the campaign. It was clear he saw Force powers just as something that made his guy more powerful. He had no real interest in playing the role of a Jedi—witness him wanting to casually slaughter imperial technicians by placing his lightsaber to the back's of their chairs and turning it on. He chafed under the whole idea of getting darkside points and being told that if he got too many, he would lose the character. I have little doubt that he would have turned evil if he could have.

But as I said, these are what I would call 'typical' gamer attitudes—and I've run into them since. So even as I say it, I DO hesitate to call them the 'worst' players. They just weren't as AWESOME as the other players I had the honor of game-mastering.

To list all the BEST players would take up too much time. And besides, just check my earlier posts for examples of their greatness. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention one more great GM before I went—Lee. Like Doyce, Lee is a writer, and a very creative and funny guy. Not only were his games interesting, they were also hilarious. But then, I have to give some credit to the hilarity to his two brothers, Mike an Dale, who also played....but..well, that is a story for another time.

So in closing, I guess I've been really lucky to avoid any ASS GMs or players. Go me! But I've still had my share of manageable travails.

Mon Calamari

First introduced in Return of the Jedi, and embodied in the character of Admiral Akbar, the Mon Calamari race was greatly expanded upon in the RPG books and in the novels and comics. There was a bit of canonical turmoil between the RPG and the movies when prequels came out (yeah, the prequels tended to do that). In the RPG, Mon Calamari had only JUST been discovered and subjugated by the Empire. In the movies, it was shown that the Mon Cal had evidently been part of galactic society for some years (witness the Mon-Cal in senate scenes and at the aquatic ballet in Revenge of the Sith). In the first Clone Wars Cartoons, it was further shown that the Mon Calamari and the Quarren (who share this homeworld) actually battled against eachother during the Clone Wars—with the Mon Cal on the side of the Republic and the Quarren siding with the Separatists.

This is one of those cases where I like the movie version of the story better than the RPG. Considering their skill in building starships, it would seem to make sense that the Mon Cal had been doing that for some time prior to the rise of the Empire. It actually doesn't take that much to alter the RPG story to fit in any case.

Where the real problems arise (at least for me) is the status of the planet during the Rebellion era. In the game, it is said that the Mon Cal rose up against the Empire, destroying the garrison force and declaring openly their resistance. They then turned their shipyards to the task of building warships for the Rebel Fleet. This is all well and good, but...one would think that the Empire would want to put a stop to this. And yet, we are expected to believe that they allowed the planet to retain its freedom for perhaps as long as a couple years prior to the death of the Emperor and the collapse of his fleet.

In the game (as suggested in the sourcebooks and the adventure 'Death in the Undercity') we are told that the Mon Cal maintain a large garrison fleet in their home system—large enough to keep it safe from direct Imperial assault. This seems a contradiction to me, since it is also implied that even the main Rebel fleet cannot openly stand against the Empire. It is also suggested that the Empire, after the destruction of the first Death Star, is spread so thin that they can't pull together enough ships to take Mon Calamari out. Again, this seems implausible, since they are able to crush all opposition elsewhere. Considering the Mon Cal seemed to be the MAJOR supplier of the Rebel Fleet, one would think they could scrape up enough ships from elsewhere to stomp on the threat—even if they lost a few less strategically important systems to do it. 

Therefore, we are left with only a couple explanations for this. First of all, maybe the Imperial fleet IS too spread out. It is said that in the post Death Star era the Imperials were increasingly hard-pressed to face the number of uprisings. Perhaps the empire was holding back a large portion of its fleet to counter the main Rebel Fleet (which could strike at any time). This is the weakest theory (in my opinion) as the Empire was always portrayed as 'all mighty'—and if it couldn't handle one major planetary insurrection, then something was wrong. 

The second possibility is that the Empire just hadn't gotten around to stomping Mon Calamari yet. Maybe they didn't realize the strategic importance of it (difficult to believe) or maybe they felt it was too far out in the boonies to care about (again difficult to believe). 

The third possibility is the more interesting one—perhaps the Emperor didn't WANT to destroy Mon Calamari for some unrevealed reason. It was quite evident that Palpatine was a very clever guy, always thinking several steps ahead of his opponents. Perhaps he was following the whole 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' philosophy. Afterall, if he allowed Mon Calamari to maintain its freedom, he kept the Rebellion from hiding or spreading out its major shipyards. So when he finally DID crush Rebel high-command or the fleet, he could then move on to crush Calamari—since he knew right where to find them. Though interesting, I'm not certain this was the case or even if it would be a wise thing for the Emperor to do.

Ultimately, in my own campaign, I have (only recently) decided the reason that the Empire never crushed Mon Calamari was actually a combination of the above theories. The Empire WAS spread out. They WERE dismissive of the strategic importance of the system (afterall, the Mon Cal are 'only' Aliens). And the Emperor DID want to 'keep his enemies closer'. When you throw all three of these together, you get something that is much more believable (to me at least). But all things considered, Mon Calamari would be a tense planet during this time, knowing full well that they are operating on borrowed time—never knowing when the Imperial Hammer is finally going to drop. 

Of course when I first pondered this whole situation it raised the question to me of why the Alliance didn't just base its high-command in this 'secure' system. But looking at the above, I think I've now answered my own question: It would have been putting all your eggs in one basket. With the shipyards AND high command all in one place, Mon Calamari would have become too important to ignore. Thus, by keeping the Alliance spread out—high command in one place, fleet in another—Mon Calamari was just one 'moderate' sized target instead of one huge bullseye.

There, now I feel better about the whole situation. Hope you do too.

Review: Death In the Undercity

As the Star Wars RPG system progressed, West End Games slowly phased out the 'module' format adventures in favor of spine-bound booklets. Death in the Undercity was one of the first of these new format books. The plot of the adventure was a rather unique one—the characters are sent to the planet Calamari to investigate troubles in the deep-sea mining operations there. Once on-planet, they discover a plot by Imperial 'destabilization' agents to turn the planet's Quarren population (the miners) versus the Mon Calamari. This is unique because it marks one of the few times that the characters are operating entirely on a 'friendly' planet, completely in control of the Rebel Alliance. 

I enjoyed this twist on the typical espionage mission into Imperial space. It turned the characters more into investigators than spys—foreshadowing the time when the New Republic would again have to police its own internal problems. It also meant that the characters were somewhat constrained in the tactics they could employ. You can't be heavy-handed and brutish with your own people (well, at least not if you want to succeed). Thus, a lot of what might have otherwise been combat must instead be solved by roleplay and negotiation.

That isn't to say there isn't a lot of action in the adventure, however. Its a Star Wars module—and rule number one is that is has to have lots of action. The mission starts off with a deadly sabotage attempt, proceeds through a bar-room brawl and back alley shootouts and ends with a showdown in the dangerous, undersea mining complex itself. Plenty of opportunities for the more combat-oriented players to blow off all the pent-up energy of having to act civil among the civilians.

There was also a bit of comic relief in the adventure—in the form of a group of mining droids with incredibly simplistic logic systems. They were portrayed as very eager, curious, excitable and even 'heroic'—in that they could actually be 'recruited' to battle the evil empire (once you explained to them what an 'evil empire' was). One of these droids so endeared himself to the vermillion crew that they took him onboard as one of the crew.

I have very few criticisms of the adventure from the standpoint of story or execution. My problems are of a more nitpicky nature—beginning with the team of Imperial Destabilization Agents. These guys were supposedly humans that were 'cosmetically altered' to look like Mon Calamari. To me, this stretches believability a little. Humans and Mon Cals are VERY different, and to think that these guys could fool Mon Cals and Quarren for any length of time with giant fish-man suits (okay, so they were medical implants or something, bus still...) just doesn't sit right—to say nothing of the fact that human physiology wouldn't allow them to breathe underwater or even resist the pressure of water like a real Mon Cal. A better way to handle this would be to have the destabilization agents actually BE Mon Calamari 'radicals' who were partially brainwashed and partially bribed (with visions of ruling the planet, etc.) This would add a whole other layer of social and political complexity to the mission rather than a 'Scooby Doo' revealing of the bad guys in the monster suit.

My second nitpick with the adventure has to do with the status of Mon Calamari itself. It is a planet in open Rebellion to the Empire. It is a major provider of arms to the Alliance. And yet for some reason, the Empire doesn't send a fleet there to crush it. In retrospect, it just doesn't make sense to me—but I'll go into that a bit deeper on another post.

In any case, Death in the Undercity continued the high standards of the earlier modules into a new format, and I recommend it as an interesting alternative to the standard Imperial spy missions.