Leon Atkinson's Blog

My mother passed away in August of this year. Last Saturday, on her 79th birthday, we celebrated her life. This post collects the obituary, the eulogy and a few notes about the celebration. I wrote an obituary with the intent of running it in a newspaper but found that to be an expensive proposition. It was north of a thousand dollars to appear for three days in the East Bay Times.

Obituary

Rhonda Ann (Peterson) Atkinson passed away August 11, 2025 at the age of 78 in Ephraim, Utah.

Rhonda was born October 25, 1946 to Eugene and June Peterson in San Diego, California. She spent part of her childhood in Italy and Germany before completing high school in Layton, Utah, a 1964 graduate of Davis High. In 1968, she graduated from Weber State University with a bachelor’s of science degree in English. That same year she married Leonard Atkinson. Their first son, Leon, arrived in 1970 after they moved to Leonard’s home town, Martinez, California. The following year, they adopted their second son, Gene.

Rhonda and Leonard moved to Oregon in 2000 after his retirement. When Leonard passed away in 2002, Rhonda returned to Martinez for a few years before moving once again to Oregon in 2006. There she met Bill Lively with whom she lived until his death in 2018. In 2022, Rhonda moved to Ephraim, Utah to live with her sister, Peg. Later that year, she was diagnosed with myleodisplastic syndrome. Her sister provided diligent care during her final years and was by her side when she passed peacefully.

Many of Rhonda’s interests were related to her love for animals. For many years she bred and showed Norwegian Elkhounds and Australian Shepherds. Her home was often filled with puppies. She raised guinea pigs with a variety of coat colors and lengths. She raised enough zebra finches and cockatiels to supply local pet stores. She kept koi in ponds at her Martinez and Oregon homes. In Oregon, she kept chickens, horses and even a donkey. She also became a minister in the Universal Life Church, which allowed her to perform marriage ceremonies, including one for her sister. In many ways, Rhonda was dedicated to creating and nurturing new life.

Rhonda is remembered for having a loving heart, being quick to make friends and being generous in giving attention and support to others. Many visitors to her home found themselves engaged in heart to heart talks over the kitchen table, including the young friends of her children. But she reserved a fierce loyalty for her sister and her children.

Rhonda was preceded in death by her parents, Eugene and June Peterson; her brother, Dennis Peterson; her husband, Leonard Atkinson; and her longtime companion, Bill Lively.

Rhonda is survived by her two sons, Leon Atkinson (Vicky) and Gene Atkinson; her two grandsons, Tre Atkinson and Henry Atkinson; and her sister, Peggy McCosh (Steve).

Celebration of Life

The event began about 11:30 am at William Welch Wines in downtown Martinez. My brother, Gene, made all arrangements for the location, the food and the decorations. I was in charge of the program itself, including delivering the eulogy. Guests started arriving around 11:00 am and soon the room with filled with chatter. By the time we started, all chairs were occupied and a few people stood.

The presentation consisted of

an invocation,the eulogy,words of remembrance from Peggy,stories from Henry, Sarah, and Dennis,everyone singing Will the Circle Be Unbroken.

Henry and I played our guitars and lead the group in singing the Carter Family version of Will the Circle Be Unbroken, with the crowd singing along with the chorus. That was a joyous moment for me, and a suitable send-off for my mother.

Invocation

Hello everyone. Thanks for coming today. We’re gathered to celebrate the life of Rhonda Atkinson. I am her son, Leon. I’m going to recount the significant events of her life, but first, I want to acknowledge what we’re doing here.

Let us come to the understanding that a treasured life has come to an end. She was a daughter, a sister, a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a friend. Those relationships now recede into the past, severed. And it hurts. So, in part, we come together to share our grief, to comfort each other, and to remind ourselves that for a time, she was here.

In 40 AD, the great Stoic philosopher, Seneca, wrote a letter to his friend, who had mourned the death of her son for three years. He offered the following advice.

I am not soothing you or making light of your misfortune: if fate can be overcome by tears, let us bring tears to bear upon it: let every day be passed in mourning, every night be spent in sorrow instead of sleep: let your breast be torn by your own hands, your very face attacked by them, and every kind of cruelty be practiced by your grief, if it will profit you. But if the dead cannot be brought back to life, however much we may beat our breasts, if destiny remains fixed and immovable forever, not to be changed by any sorrow, however great, and death does not loose his hold of anything that he once has taken away, then let our futile grief be brought to an end. Let us, then, steer our own course, and no longer allow ourselves to be driven to leeward by the force of our misfortune. He is a sorry pilot who lets the waves wring his rudder from his grasp, who leaves the sails to fly loose, and abandons the ship to the storm: but he who boldly grasps the helm and clings to it until the sea closes over him, deserves praise even though he be shipwrecked.

Eulogy

I have a great memory that goes way back, but I can’t remember the first time my mother sang to me. I expect it started before I was born. But I can remember innumerable times when she’d put on a favorite record and dance with my brother and me, or maybe with my dad. And if I have any sensation of the divine, it’s in the presence of music. So, I’m going to call forth those spirits as I go along here. Later, I’m going to ask you sing along with me, but right now I want to quote one of my favorite songs because it explains the situation.

This is Just Look At Me by Jonathan Richman.

She herself might never come back

But she's with me here because

A heart that's once known love

Is never the way it was.

She herself might never come back

But she's with me all my days.

Her certain way of talkin',

her certain silent ways.

Every time she held my hand, you still can see

She herself might never come back

But just look at me.

Just Look At Me, Jonathan Richman

Indeed. Go ahead and look at each other. Do you see her? Your heart was changed. I know it. Before my mother passed, I asked some of my friends to reflect on whether she made a difference to their lives. She had doubts. Without exception, they shared how my mother always made them feel welcome and seen when they visited my house. After I shared these stories with her, I told her how her welcoming spirit rippled out beyond my friends to how they care for their own children. That’s a generational difference, and that’s how one person changes the world.

This is something I appreciate most about my mother, that she took nurturing as an absolute. Of course, she provided comfort to her family, but she also cared a lot about others. She was quick to make new friends and almost instantly considered them extended family. Where others might hesitate or feel insecure, she enthusiastically set about treating everyone with loving kindness.

And knowing she was right, she had the grit to follow her convictions. There were times when she made unusual decisions, undaunted by convention. There were hard times when a lesser person would buckle under the strain, but she always chose to take care of those around her.

Where did this attitude come from? Maybe part of it was the circumstances of history. Mom was born October 25th, 1946, to Gene and June Peterson in San Diego. It was only a year after her father returned from World War II a hero and a liberated prisoner of war. The tragedies of a global conflict gave way to the optimism of the baby boomer generation. She was always a patriot who believed in progress.

Mom spent her childhood in San Diego where returning veterans were driving an increasing integration of cultures. This may have influenced her life-long interest in traditions, particularly spiritual wisdom. No doubt this was bolstered when her family, which included older brother Dennis and younger sister Peggy, moved to Italy. Those years in Torino were formative. Despite a family tree filled with English and Swedish surnames, she always considered herself Italian.

When the family returned to the United States, they settled in Layton, Utah. Mom attended Davis High, graduating in 1964. One of her best friends was Penny Yamane (later Sato), who came from one of the few families of Japanese descent in Utah. 30 years later, I rented a room from Penny and Alan during my first quarter at Weber State University.

I ended up in college in Ogden, because of mom’s friendship with Penny and because she’d graduated from Weber State herself in 1968 with a Bachelor’s of Science in English. She always found it funny to have a BS in English.

Earlier that year, she’d gone on a date with a high school teacher, introduced by friends. They lost track of each other for several months, but when they got back together in the Summer, they both realized they were in love and married on the third of July. I guess it was like the Johnny Cash song, Jackson. “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.” My parents often retold the story of how my father drove my mom’s VW bug over a beaver dam on their honeymoon.

Another funny thing my dad did during this time was to present a frog he’d caught. They brought this frog home with them and it lived under their trailer in Layton. From then on, my mom’s spirit animal was the frog. She was given many frog figurines over the years, but the one she loved the most was the little brown frog that looked so much like that first frog.

My mother had a strong intuition, especially about me. More than once, she told me about my own origin story, how she insisted to my father that she was pregnant before having any proof. So, I was conceived in Utah, but by the time I was born, my parents had moved to Martinez. And after a short time here, they moved to Isleton in the nearby delta.

The next year, when my age was still measured in months, my parents decided the family was incomplete and that they didn’t want to wait. They told the adoption agency that they were ready for the very next baby that arrived. They placed no conditions, and were soon notified about my brother, Gene. My mother was grateful for this opportunity for the rest of her life.

At that time, the United States remained deeply conflicted about race, but 1971 represented the peak of interracial adoptions. There was an optimism then that would face a growing regression back towards segregation the next year, at least when it came to adoption. Whatever the negative attitudes of the culture were, my parents did not acknowledge them. Gene was their son, named after his two grandfathers. My mother courageously chose what she knew was right and disregarded what anyone else thought.

So, we were a happy family of four living in Isleton on a walnut farm. In June of 1972, my father quit his teaching job before we took a trip to Utah. We returned to find a breach in the levee that flooded Andrus Island. My parents waded into the rapidly rising waters to rescue some of their belongings, including some our toys. My mother grabbed clothes for the rest of us but not for herself.

The property was a loss, and my parents were forced to start over again, returning to Martinez. It was a decade before they were compensated via a lawsuit won against the government. My father got a job as an accountant with Standard Oil in Concord. We lived on Monterey Avenue, outside the city limits where my parents could raise chickens. Gene and I attended Mountain View Elementary. My mother was involved in school activities and made friends with many of the other parents.

Around this time, mom became interested in showing and breeding Norwegian Elkhounds. There were many litters of puppies in those days, and many trips to dog shows. My mom made dear friends in this hobby, and in her way, my mom seemed to adopt them into our extended family. There were weddings, holiday parties and simple get-togethers with Joan & Ted, Tom & Lois, Dennis & Lark.

In later years, mom moved on from Elkhounds to Corgies and then Australian Shepherds. She took up raising different animals, too. She raised guinea pigs with a variety of coats of different colors and lengths. She raised parakeets, cockatiels and zebra finches. My father built her two outdoor aviaries for the birds. He and I also built her a cement koi pond that included a waterfall. Naturally, those fish had babies that first Spring. She wasn’t even trying.

Aside from animals, mom was always interested in spiritual topics. In the 70s, she learned a lot about Astrology, both western and eastern. It was not a casual interest. She put a lot of effort into building these complex charts. I think she’d say that as a Scorpio/Dog, she was passionate and loyal, but woe to anyone who got on her bad side.

One way to raise her ire was to wake her up at night after she’d been asleep. Growing up, I’d stay up late watching TV in the dark family room after my parents had gone to bed. I might get away with letting out a chuckle once, but I could be sure any subsequent laughter or loud talk would summon thunderous footsteps. In the doorway, looking down into the room would be a monster that somewhat resembled my mother. “Leon! Be! Quiet!” The words exploded like a fireball, then the dragon returned to her lair.

Of course, I had this experience many times growing up, probably because laughter is a stronger force even than a mother’s momentary wrath. Years later, we’d bought my parents’ house after my dad retired. Once again, I’d be in that same family room late at night. Every time I’d make any kind of noise, I’d get that momentary feeling of doom again, expecting her to come in and scold me.

One of my most cherished memories are the times when mom would put on a record to which we’d all dance and sing along. That would usually be Jesus Christ Superstar, Hair or maybe Joy to the World by Three Dog Night. Singing along to the car radio was standard for us. Some of her favorite artists were Jimmie Buffet, The Everly Brothers, Freddie Fender and Lou Rawls. I recall she really loved the movies Michael, the one with Travolta playing an angel, and Leap of Faith, where Steve Martin plays an evangelist. Generally, she enjoyed mysteries, and was an avid reader of Agatha Christie.

Over the years, she studied religion and psychology. She became a certified hypnotherapist and a minister in the Universal Life Church, which allowed her to perform marriages. One of her friends was a psychic. She had many friends in a guru-led group called “the teaching”. She and my father read books about Christianity, including the gnostic gospels. When I was a teenager, she regularly attended a baptist church, and when she lived in Oregon she went to a cowboy church. In her final days, a catholic priest administered last rites. I guess you could say she had her bases covered, but she was always trying to figure out the mystery of life, and she was open to a diversity of viewpoints.

This openness and curiosity made her an unusual parent in the eyes of my friends. “Your parents are cool,” I would be told. My mom treated children with a rare respect, never taking an authoritarian stance. As we grew into teenagers, it was common to find one my friends sitting down, having a heart-to-heart chat with my mom at the kitchen table. She had a genuine interest and sense of goodwill for them.

One her greatest gifts of kindness was in 1996. We were out to dinner to celebrate my mom’s birthday. I brought along two friends. One was Jesse, my best friend from college. The other was a new friend from Utah who’d just got a job out here. Mom later said she’d leaned over to my dad and whispered confidently, “that’s your new daughter in law”. I had just met Vicky, so this was some combination of intuition and divine inspiration. But she was right. When we later announced our engagement, she had a little sparkle in her eye.

Vicky had only recently moved to the area. Her family and most of her friends were back in Utah. One of the first things my mom did was throw Vicky a birthday party that December. She also spent a lot of time with Vicky planning the wedding, choosing a dress and decorations. She really made Vicky a part of the family right away. I know Vicky was grateful for the support, and I know mom was overjoyed to have a daughter.

In 2000, my father retired and the two of them moved to Oregon. They called the place Alta Martinez. My dad felt like he was permanently at summer camp. Unfortunately, in 2002, he passed away suddenly. This was devastating. So many plans and expectations were upended.

Mom moved back to Martinez, back the house on Miller Avenue that had been a rental since we’d moved out in 1979. With the help of friends, it was once again a home. And less than a year later, her first grandson, Tre, was born. It was a blessing to have her in the delivery room with us.

Having a grandson makes you a grandmother, right? But what do you do if you’re not quite ready to think of yourself that way? Remember how I said mom considered herself Italian? The nickname she chose for herself was Nona. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and she was a loving grandparent to Tre and Henry.

In 2005, mom was introduced to Bill Lively by a mutual friend who lived in Oregon. They hit it off and soon she moved back to Oregon to live with him in Rogue River. Back out in the country, she had horses, a donkey, ducks and chickens. It was hard for me to have her so far away again, but we made time for visits and regular phone calls. In addition, I know mom appreciated being closer to her sister in Klamath Falls.

Mom had many relaxing years of retirement up in Oregon, then, 2018 was a challenging year. Bill became ill, and Mom nursed him until he passed away that autumn. Around this same time, Vicky was coping with surgery. Once again, mom showed her grit, putting aside her grief to help us take care of the boys. When she returned to Oregon, she started a project to replace the old farmhouse in Rogue River. Just as we were getting back to normal, the world lost its collective mind. It was even harder to see each other for a couple of years.

In 2022, mom moved to Ephraim, Utah to live with her sister. It was hard to give up having her own home, but the isolation in Oregon was also a challenge. Unfortunately, later that year, mom was diagnosed with myelodysplastic syndrome, a type of blood cancer. This is a mysterious condition without any clear cause or cure. The only thing medicine seems to know is that with grueling chemotherapy, you might last three years.

My mom was tough. She faced this situation in the same way she’d faced those that came before. She disregarded the hardship and looked for the humor. In June of this year, she told me she was “past her expiration date”, and delivered the line with a trademark smirk. These past three years were tremendously hard, but when I’d ask about it, her response would be “it’s not so bad.” She could gripe about any number of political topics but never complained to me about her health, only apologizing for being so tired.

I was sure she was suffering but not willing to burden me. She was herself to the end, a nurturing mother focused on life. I could feel my father’s presence, gently saying, “it just doesn’t matter.” The pain, the suffering, was not important. When I last saw her, she was frail, and I told her I was sorry she was going through this. She put her arm around me and gave me a hug. She did the same for Gene, Tre and Henry. That’s what was important to her, that we were going to be OK.

Well, we are going to be alright. It’s going to be lonely without her, and that might have been her greatest fear, to be alone. But look around. We’re together now, and some part of her is in each us, so she’s not alone either.

I want to close with more song lyrics. This is a song I shared with my mom about being alone, and I think it gave some comfort for her in the end.

Gaze in my eyes and tell me I’ll be alright

Even if I don’t get what I need tonight

Sometimes the complexity gets a little complex

But other times it’s easy as baking a pie

Falling off a log and living till you die

What would even be the point if we knew what comes next?

The water’s warm

And no one ever told you life was long

And believed it

You’ve always known

There’s someone out there watching as you go

Just a feeling

You’re not alone

You’re not alone

You're Not Alone, Dan Wilson, as recorded by Semisonic

Notes

Here are a few other notes about the day.

It was not particularly cold for late October, but clouds threatened rain, and made good on that threat by about the time we got started. Out on Main Street, the city was running a Halloween event, with cars forbidden on several blocks so that kids could collect candy. We thought Mom would have found the humor in the juxtaposition between the two events.

Gene went overboard on decorations and food. The latter came from Kinder' BBQ with even more food from somewhere else. There was a tower of delicious cupcakes plus cookies. I brought along Circus Peanuts, an old fashioned candy that was my mom's favorite.

Every table had a bouquet that included purple roses. Guests were offered small prayer cards and candles to take home. We had a table of mementos, photos and a guest registry. We had a slideshow running on a TV.

Left side of the piano Right side of the piano Mementos table with guest registry Seating Cupcakes

Source

My second book for the Basic Fantasy RPG project was published this week. Here's the marketing copy.

What Secrets Lie Mouldering in the Estates of the Eliari?

Long ago, the enigmatic Eliari merchants settled in these lands, raising peculiar estates to house their families and fortunes. Then, as suddenly as they arrived, a mysterious catastrophe called them home, leaving their holdings to crumble. Today, these forgotten estates are the subject of fearful local legends, whispered to be the dens of bandits or the haunts of restless spirits. Brave adventurers may seek the riches left behind, but few are prepared for what they will find.

Estates of the Eliari is an innovative adventure creation kit for the Basic Fantasy Role-Playing Game. More than a single scenario, this book represents countless unique adventures based on a single map. With comprehensive tables for each area, the Game Master can create a new experience every time. Will your players face a cunning gang of bandits, or will they contend with a terrifying infestation of the undead? Your choices or the rolls of the dice ensure abundant replayability.

Will you craft an entire adventure before your players arrive, or roll the dice on the fly, discovering the secrets of the estate alongside them? With thousands of possible combinations, no two expeditions into the Estates of the Eliari need ever be the same. Open the gates, and let the dice decide your doom.

Print copies can be obtained from Amazon or Lulu.

This started as an experiment in seeing how far I could take the idea of random tables. I began with a map which I started keying, and with each location, I kept coming up with alternate results in a table. There is one, major fork where the old house is either populated by bandits or undead. Otherwise, the choices are all mix-and-match but work together. There was a fun challenge is making each option stand by itself while still working the the greater framework.

You can see development notes for EotE on on the BFRPG forum.

I had hoped this book would have been more collaborative, but I ended up writing it all myself with a few suggestions that came in early. Naturally, the text benefited greatly from the editing crew on the project and Chris Gonnerman's leadership. I purposely held off from producing any art beyond the map, a contrast to Terror in Tosasth, in which I produced all of the art. A few people contributing interesting pieces.

Here's what it might look like if you stumble into the basement, thanks to Hadrien Riel-Salvatore.

Undead basement result 4-6 (Water pools in a depression...) with challenge result 1-2: Four wraiths rise from each corner of the dank room, moaning as they advance. They swing chains attached to rusting manacles.

I used the text once in my ongoing campaign, and it worked well. I used the LibreOffice text, rolled results and cut out parts as I went along, thus preparing the whole adventure ahead of time. It should work to roll results in the moment, but I haven't tried. At some point, I'll translate all of the text back into my One Dice Six engine so that a whole instance can be built in one go.

There's an fun conceit here in that the estates are all architected identically due to the peculiar traditions of the Eliari (about which nothing further is revealed). This gives the players a slight advantage after they've been through one of these places. This encourages some heist-themed planning. I could see a party spending months searching for these estates, clearing them out one by one.

Source

Here's another installment of my short poems mages and clerics can utter while casting spells, this time of the third level.

ClairvoyancePrecise direction and distance,
Over which my mind's arrow flies.
Vision reaches across expanse
To view the world through other's eyes.DarkvisionWithout the aid of any light
My eyes perceive the size and shape
Of forms that lurk in ebon night.
Beneath my gaze, let none escape.Dispel MagicLike weathered stone, like heavy rain,
Like ancient tree in forest felled,
End effects, so that none remain.
Let now this magic be dispelled!FireballWhere first there's smoke, soon is fire,
The element that consumes all.
My hand directs a threat most dire.
Emerge, explode and burn, fireball.FlyWithout aid of avian wing
I drift into the azure sky.
Worry not. No chance of falling.
Where once I walked, I now can fly.HasteQuicken now each chosen being,
Powered by arcane promotion.
Strike twice swift. Let haste be freeing.
Double speed in fight and motion.Hold PersonHold in place. You've no defender.
My will is force, which I will prove.
Though mind is awake, surrender.
Limbs, be stiff, unable to move.Invisibility 10' radiusDescend yon darkened veil upon
Searching eyes now clouded, unclear.
Night's ebon womb expands anon.
Let all within her disappear.Lightning BoltSpark now flies from finger’s guiding,
Stretch and burst in lightning’s flashing,
Blast through foes with thunder’s riding,
Rend the air with power crashing.Protection from Evil 10’ radiusRaise a veil of magic flowing.
Thwart the claws of evil pressing.
Steel our forms, their power slowing.
Circle holds, our will professing.Protection from Normal MissilesWard my form from arrows flying.
Block the sting of bullets darting.
Turn aside all blades defying.
Missiles fall, their force departing.SlowLanguish now each chosen being.
Halve their pace in fight and striding.
Strike but once where two were springing.
Time drags slow in dull abiding.Water BreathingGrant us gills, through water gliding.
Breathe as fish in depths unending.
Touch each soul, the gift dividing.
Air and sea, our lungs befriending.

The clerical spells follow.

Bestow CurseBy shadows deep, and ancient dread,
Your actions halt. Your true self dies.
Your strength fails. Your spirit, now bled,
By twisted fate, and whispered lies.Cause BlindnessLet shadows fall, a world made dim.
The light denied, your vision lost.
No sight remains, on any whim,
By my lord's hand, a heavy cost.Cause DiseaseBy tainted breath and sickness deep,
Your strength decays, your movements slow.
No healing comes, your secrets keep,
Till shadowed death, begins to grow.Continual DarknessCast out light with god’s dark willing,
Shadow reigns, all brightness fading,
Holy void, a year fulfilling,
Blind the sight with gloom pervading.Continual LightCall forth light by god’s own shining.
Radiance spreads, dark defying.
Holy glow, a year aligning.
Bless the world with grace undying.

Cure BlindnessThe darkened veil, I now dispel.
Let sight return, a world made clear.
No shadows hold, no magic fell,
But light reborn, and vision's cheer.Cure DiseaseThe creeping rot, the fever's sting,
The hidden plague, the parasite's hold,
I banish now, on angel's wing.
Let health return, precious as gold.Growth of AnimalsBy ancient root, and verdant might,
Let beast expand, with doubled frame.
Its strength increased, in sudden flight,
A titan's form, a wilder game.Locate ObjectBy divine thread, and seeking gaze,
The hidden thing, I now pursue.
Through winding paths, and shadowed maze,
Its distant form, I bring to view.Remove CurseBreak the chains with power holy.
Curses lift from flesh abiding.
Spirit cleaned by divine solely.
Untie binds with grace providing.Speak with DeadWith sacred words, and hallowed rite,
Dead lips shall speak, a moment's grace.
The soul's last echo, brought to light,
Then silence falls, in death's embrace.StrikingBy sacred force, and righteous blow,
Let weapon strike, with added might.
A potent edge, where shadows grow,
And magic's strength, defeats the night.

See more Rhymes for Spells.

Source

In traditional fantasy RPGs, a wizard can pre-cast a spell into a magic item for one-time use, typically as a potion or a scroll. Only Magic-Users (and maybe Thieves) can cast spells from scrolls. Anyone can gulp down a potion. Based on tables of magic items from the original texts, there are certain spells that go on scrolls and others that go in potions.

One argument made is that potions are meant to produce an effect on the imbiber rather than some effect directed outward. This explanation thins a bit when it comes to potions of control, e.g. a Potion of Undead Control. In 3E, it's possible to brew a potion of any spell 3rd level or lower, which means a Potion of Fireball is feasible. Drinking and spitting fire seems very natural and evocative, so I'm going with it. Here's how it works.

We have a flask. It's warm to the touch. If you pop the cork, a small flame dances out from the mouth of the flask. If you pour it out or break the flask, you just get some lamp oil. If you drink it, it burns going down, just link chugging a flask of whiskey. And it wants to come back up immediately, but you can try to keep it down. If you let it come right back up, a fireball bursts from your mouth, exactly as the spell cast by a Magic-User of level 5 - 20.

If you want to hold it down, make a save versus magic. If you make it, it stays in your belly for up to a turn. If you fail, it comes right back. When you want to produce a fireball, make another save versus magic. If you fail, the fireball projects from the other end of your digestive system, probably exploding at your feet.

If successfully belched up, a fireball shoots a stream of fire of a hundred feet or more until it explodes at the point where the potion drinker intends.

Yeah, yeah, game balance. This does not particularly concern me, especially since I've got three high-level fighters in my long-running campaign that each have girdles of giant strength which allow them to throw boulders every round. If one of them has an accident with a potion of fireball, it will be worth it.

Source

As a game master, I default to theater of the mind, but most of the other players like to see maps, especially during combat. We compromise by me only going to the battle mat if the fight's going to be long or complicated. I don't have a big collection of figures. I do have a bunch of glass beads of difference colors, which are fine for monsters. I wanted a solution for individual PCs that wasn't going to cost a bunch of money. I tried using binder clips with a strip of paper inside with the PC name. They were unstable. My new solution is a wooden token with a picture glued to one side.

I bought a bag of wooden tokens on Amazon. They are 1" across and 1/8" thick. About $10 for 120 of them.

I also bought a hole punch that makes 1" holes in paper. It's a supersized version of the tool you'd use in school. It cost about $11.

When you flip it over, you can see through a window of what you're about to cut out. That means you can cut out a disc of paper exactly around some picture you want to glue to the wooden token.

I looked over my drawings I make for my game log. I have faces for just about every active PC in the game. So, I put 1" circles in an image in GIMP and pasted in faces from drawings. I scaled them down and trimmed them into a disc shape. Then, I printed out the whole sheet and started stamping out the discs.

The punch tool will reach a couple of inches into a sheet of paper, so I did the first row, then cut that line off the sheet so I could get to the second row. Finally, I glued each little disc of paper to a wooden token. That took about an hour for about 20 of them.

The paper was a tiny bit bigger than the wood. I solved this with a quick pass with sandpaper that shredded off the extra. I used a glue stick, the kind that's "disappearing purple".

Source

It’s been a few years since the four of us vacationed in a new and distant location. It didn’t seem realistic during the pandemic years, and travel was mostly limited to camping in California and visiting family in Utah, though we did make it to Tucson. This year, things worked out for a 10-day trip to Alaska. As is our way, Vicky did all the planning. She made sure it worked with everyone’s schedules: Henry’s concerts, Tre’s conventions, and college classes starting up in late August.

I didn’t have many specific expectations. I like to visit used book stores when we travel, and there were a few around where we’d be, but none that were particularly interesting. I was hoping to eat fresh seafood every day. I knew we’d be on boats a few times, but I didn’t think too much about it. I figured I’d be relaxing, reading and drawing. Vicky, naturally, was hoping to spot birds. I don’t know what Tre or Henry expected.

We flew out of SFO in the afternoon and landed in Anchorage around 9pm local time. This time of year, it doesn’t really get dark there until almost 11pm. The extra light distorted my sense of time. It’s already hard to sleep in strange surroundings. Shifting one timezone earlier and then having the sun still above the horizon so late was strange.

The next morning, Vicky and I walked around a lagoon in Anchorage while the boys slept in. She was looking for birds. I was trying to circle the whole lagoon, which involved walking through a neighborhood street. I snapped a picture of a magpie on the roof of a house. It seemed bigger than typical to me. A guy walking his dog quizzed me about why I was taking a picture of his neighbor’s house. I don’t know what kind of mischief he thought I might be up to taking a picture with my phone.

Later that day, we visited the museum in downtown Anchorage. Among the displays was unusual leather armor. It used a cone of leather strips to form a skirt held up by suspenders. Behind the head was a shield, meant to catch arrows fired from the rear. The next day, I sketched what a warrior in such armor might look like.

We drove down to Moose Pass, which is about 20 minutes north of Seward. Along the way, we stopped to look at wildlife and to hike up to see a glacier. The day in Anchorage had been sunny and cool. The drive to Seward dropped some light rain on us. The next day, we spent the whole day on a large boat that took us to the Kenai Fjords to see a glacier slowly dropping ice into the ocean. The overcast day enhanced the blue tones of the ancient ice.

On the way back from the glacier, whales were spotted. The first we saw were sei whales. They were just cresting the water in the distance. The real excitement came from the humpback whales. The boat had underwater microphone so that we could hear the calls as the whales chased fish to the surface with curtains of air bubbles. Soon, the gulls would begin diving on one spot followed by the sudden emergence of several gargantuan whale heads. We saw several rounds of this feeding activity.

The next day was Tre’s 21st birthday, and we celebrated with a vigorous hike up to Exit Glacier to see the Harding Ice Fields, which is the big expanse of ice over the top of the mountains. The ascent is about 3,000 feet of elevation over about 4 miles. It added up to over 10 miles of up and down. The first part of the trail was a series of stone steps, but then we climbed above the tree line and then across loose gravel and patches of snow. The change from lush rain forest to barren mountaintop was dramatic.

The next part of our trip was spent camping on a remote peninsula across Resurrection Bay from Seward. We left our rental call and half our luggage behind for a 40 minute boat ride to Shearwater Cove. Yurts sit on stilts in a narrow canyon. That night, Vicky and I went on a guided kayak tour to a nearby island and then we all relaxed in the yurt, which offered small kitchen and a heater. The weather that day and the day before was perfect. The following day, a storm rolled by the afternoon and delivered heavy rain. However, we managed another kayak trip in the morning to see spawning salmon in a nearby cove.

Shearwater Cove can only be reached by boat. A little creek runs through canyon. It became a raging river overnight. The operators have put in many yurts which are connected by series of decks and stairs. There are several trails to explore with wild blueberries and salmon berries to pick along the way. Propane powers a heater, a stove and a shower for each yurt. It was very comfortable except that we were four adults crammed into a 20-foot yurt.

This has been a challenge for us that’s intensifying over time. We no longer have the dynamic of the two adults who can dictate a schedule to the two kids. We’re four adults with different preferences, including some preferences for solitude that are hard to satisfy on the road. We definitely got cranky with each other at times.

We wrapped up our trip by driving north, past Anchorage to Talkeetna, which is a tiny town at the foot of Mount McKinley (aka Denali). The original plan was to catch a good view of the mountain, but the weather didn’t cooperate. We even tried driving north for an hour with no luck. The rain wouldn’t let up. The last day was spent driving back to the airport and flying into SFO.

Other places we’ve visited offered unique food. In Cancun, we’d eat mangoes every day, plus restaurants would serve regional dishes, all of which we’d want to try. I figured on lots of fish in Alaska. I imagined eating fresh salmon every day. It didn’t turn out that way. There are a lot of breweries in Alaska, but I’ve given up drinking beer and anyway, there are plenty of similar breweries in the Bay Area. The one delicacy we ran into was birch syrup in Talkeetna. None of the food was bad. It was just relatively generic American.

I also often look for used bookstores on trips. That didn’t work out. There weren’t any interesting places in Seward or in Anchorage proper. I think I saw more used bookstores near Homer on the map, but we didn’t make it that far.

I went into the fjord cruise with neutral expectations, but it was a really interesting day, and amazing to see the whales fishing. The experience at Shearwater Cover was probably the highlight of the trip. The vibe was so friendly. Other campers were sharing a good mood.

Overall, it was a good adventure.

Source

What is Chrysogon’s Coterie? It’s the latest supplement released by the Basic Fantasy RPG project. That’s the group of people led by Chris Gonnerman who collaborate on an open source version of D&D. The supplement collects 288 NPCs for you to drop into your campaign.

Who’s Chrysogon? He’s a 9th level dwarf with a penchant for snooping on everyone around him. Dwarves are known for being suspicious of others and dour of temper. This guy punches all the buttons. You’ll have to read the book to learn more. If you can trust him, that is. Chrysogon isn’t even his real name!

What’s a coterie? It’s an intimate group of associates, in this case a bunch of adventurers with various connections between them, the most prominent being that that a devious dwarf has revealed some of their darkest secrets. It would be scandalous if it weren’t all so imaginary.

Which is to say this book is the product of the fertile and verdant imagination of Todd Lyons. Fertile, because, well, look at the bounty of interesting characters. Verdant, because this is his first go at writing an RPG supplement. It’s appropriate to have bloomed in the Spring. It’s so full of fresh ideas, and not at all a bland rogue’s gallery.

I read through the text and provided feedback in November 2022. (It takes some time to assemble a printed book, especially when all the labor is volunteer). In one aspect, it’s a story. At more than a hundred 8.5″ x 11″ pages, the word count probably qualifies it as a novel. There are plenty of characters with backstories to dive into, but of course, there is little plot, which is exactly what you want from an RPG supplement. The story emerges from the play of game.

The primary aspect of the book is as an aid to the game master. On the fly, you can flip to any page and pull out one of the NPCs. Read a couple of paragraphs and start role-playing the random adventurer your players just met. The description will provide a few mysteries for the the PCs to wonder about as well as a few pointers to other NPCs in the book. You could do this for a long time because there are 288 entries: eight for the four primary classes (fighter, magic user, cleric, thief) over nine levels. That is, if you need a ninth level magic user, flip to the end of the book and there are eight to choose from.

The descriptions of the NPCs are wild. They do not present as thin frosting over a trope cake. These personalities are quirky and true to life. When I first started reading through the text, I had this weird feeling that one of two things was true–either Todd was possibly a little disturbed or else he had a background in psychology. Some of the NPCs have been through serious emotional trauma.

Some kids are exposed to the trade early. An orphan, Tycho was adopted by two thieves posing as a married couple and then sold at a slave auction for a profit. Thus, he has no faith in anyone’s intentions, regardless of how genuine they seem. He had many failed escapes and endured many more beatings before finally fleeing beyond his owner’s reach. Unusually resilient, Tycho learned how to be a successful thief the hard way—getting caught, surviving, and learning to do it better. He is an extreme risk-taker and is very comfortable with improvising on the job. Nothing ever goes as planned anyway.

Tycho Cruscellio, Chrysogon’s Coterie page 75

Yikes! But look at all the flavor packed into that one paragraph. Tycho had a tough life, and you can’t blame him for being pessimistic, but he’s a survivor. Your party would be lucky to have him picking locks and disarming traps hundreds of feet down in the underdark.

Unsurprisingly, Todd has a background in social work and adolescent mental health. The artist reveals a bit of his soul in crafting his work. Todd demonstrates an understanding of the human condition as well as a deep caring for the characters in the book.

These characters have depth. You can understand their motivations, which means they are easy to play. I suspect why we see such innovation in this work is due to a focus first on passion for the hobby rather than a cynical stab at meager profits in an over-saturated market. You can get this book in print for about five bucks. You can read it for free by downloading the PDF. This is the ethic of the BFRPG project.

Aside from the text, you’ll find plentiful illustrations from various artists, including an inspiring cover by Gabe Fua. The production of these works requires collaboration from many different roles. The level of editing poured into these books is phenomenal, ranging from copy editing to technical editing. Plus, a delicate dance must be done with Libre Office to get the typesetting to work. The BFRPG community is singular in its ability to cooperate and produce highly valuable works. Even if you use another flavor of D&D, the Coterie will provide great value. The meat is all in the characters and their relationships. The stats are easy enough to convert.

So, congratulations to Todd on the publication of Chrysogon’s Coterie! I’m grateful for his continuing contributions to the BFRPG project.

Source

Here’s another installment of my short poems mages and clerics can utter while casting spells, this time of the second level. I previously wrote rhymes for first level magic user spells and first level cleric spells.

Continual DarknessInky darkness, down you clamp.Spread and stifle beacons all.Let no candle, torch, nor lampShine its light beyond this wall.Continual LightNow from star and sun comes lightThat spreads and stays forever long.A shining beacon, true and white,Proclaims the virtue of the strong.Detect EvilOpen I pry my eyes to seeAny evil threats to me.Glow, you creatures from planes beyond.Open, eyes! Respond! Respond!Detect InvisibleSpirits hiding from naked eyeReveal yourself by outline drawnWith silv'ry pen of open skyThat shines your shape with bolts of dawn.InvisibilityDescend yon darkened veil uponSearching eyes now clouded, unclear.You once were here, but now you've gone.And with this touch you disappear.KnockFor sticky door or stubborn keyWith gentle tap, I now unlock.To raise the bar and gain entryThree times on solid clasp I knock.LevitateNow, rise by unseen hand. Soar high!Keep floating while I concentrate.Drift up from earth and towards the sky.Behold the one that levitates.Locate ObjectBy hoary hosts and spirits strange,Upon my thoughts be fixated.If found it could be within range,Let now the thing be located.Mind ReadingThoughts are waves that through ether rideInto my probing mind to scan.The secret consciousness residesAnd fills the space. My mind expands.Mirror ImageSwirling, twisting, false imagesMimic form of magic casters.Every strike must hit visagesUntil final figment falters.Phantasmal ForceA vision projects from my mind.A silent illusion appears.Concentration keeps it confined.By doubt or touch the image clears.WebLike spider silk but more secure,Now sticky strands extend and bind.If ignited, let flames endure.Entrap my prey in threads entwined.Wizard LockMagic lock hold this portal fast.Let wizard's knock only through. Make a seal that forever lasts,So secret treasure hide from view.

The clerical spells follow.

BaneOh lord on high, fill my bodyWith a spirit inspiring dread.Attacks will fail, and foes will flee,Who within fifty paces tread.BlessBless my friends, oh holy father.Let courage fill their very hearts.Pang of fear can never botherThose who honor thy holy art.Charm AnimalMusic calms the savage beast, andSo do words most gently spoken.That same creator joins our hands.Friendship ties are now awoken.Find TrapsAny peril laid by evilI pray to see out before me.Traps by glowing will be seen full.Trust have I in him most holy.Hold PersonLet glory hold thee in splendor.My will is force, which I will prove.Though mind is awake, surrender.Limbs, be stiff unable to move.Resist FireFire harms none who honor the nameOf precious lord whose prayer they spoke.Like saints of old who walked through flame,Let faith provide a cooling cloak.SilenceA globe of silence honors mostThe one who spoke the world's first word.In this moment speak no boastNor let no arcane spell be heard.Speak with AnimalsCreature made by the same divine,Listen and understand my voice.Converse with me if you incline.To speak with me remains your choice.Spiritual HammerBy fervent faith in holy mightI call forth his awesome clamor.Let my enemies quake in frightFrom my spiritual hammer.

Source

Perhaps it is absurd to offer advice on how to enjoy a game. Isn’t the point of a game to provide enjoyment? Not necessarily. Some games are serious and meant to discover information, such as Model UN simulations. Some games asymmetrically provide enjoyment for some players and torment others, such as a game of keep-away played by a couple of bullies who’ve just stolen your hat. But let’s narrow the discussion to games meant for the enjoyment of all players.

I’m about to get Aristotelian for a moment. For many human endeavors, there’s a range between two extremes, inside of which is a preferable middle. Not enough courage? You’re a coward. Too much courage? You’re foolhardy. That’s the Aristotelian mean. One range applied to games is the balance between what’s under your control and what’s beyond all control. You can use this balance to understand how best to enjoy the game.

Webster’s 1828 definition of game includes the following.

3. An exercise or play for amusement or winning a stake; as a game of cricket; a game of chess; a game of whist. Some games depend on skill; others on hazard.

https://webstersdictionary1828.com/Di...

The first definition is just sport, but that’s to broad. We’re talking about an exercise, that is a series of procedures, meant to induce amusement by way of a winning condition. Games can require skill and they can present hazards. Skill is the beneficial application of the rules to enforce one’s will on the game condition. Hazards are events produced by the game beyond the control of the player.

Games have rules. Generally, the rules don’t change during the course of a game session, though there can be games with rules for changing the rules themselves. That’s getting a bit meta, so we’ll set it aside. The rules specify the actions a player can make within the context of the game. The player makes choices from these rules towards some personal satisfaction, usually to the win the game.

Most games offer an element of chance. These are the hazards beyond the control of the player. They may come in the form of dice, cards or even the inscrutable actions of an opposing player. Defeating the hazards, that is, getting your way despite them, is one way to feel satisfaction at the end of a game. This could be described as the agency theory of fun.

Consider a game at the extreme end of the range when it comes to randomness: Candy Land. This is a boardgame that simulates a race. A path leads from the start to “Home Sweet Home”. Players take turns drawing cards which direct the player’s token to advance to a colored square. The game offers no choices whatsoever. The result of the game is determined by the randomness of how the cards were shuffled.

Candy Land is not a fun game for anyone but toddlers. Youngsters who have not yet learned to count can still find some satisfaction in challenging themselves to follow the rules by matching colors. Sadly, there other games of extraordinary complexity that offer as little choice as Candy Land. Perhaps adults find these games amusing in the same way. The challenge lies in following obtuse rules.

What about a game with no hazards, no resort to luck? It would be natural to think of chess, checkers or go. These games have no element of chance such as a deck of cards, but they do offer the challenge of an opponent whose actions you cannot control.

To eliminate all uncontrolled elements, we must find a game with a single player. We can’t choose klondike or similar solitaire card games because those rely on a randomized deck of cards. We end up considering an activity with rules where only our own choices matter. Is writing a poem still a game? Whether it’s a sonnet or haiku, the poet must follow some scant rules.

Putting together perfect iambic pentameter with consistent rhymes is a difficult challenge that can be solved with many interesting choices. Once again, we find the game itself to be lacking while some enjoyment can be found in struggling with a personal ability to follow the rules.

Have you ever found that certain experiences tip over from being unenjoyable to being enjoyable when you add something outside the “rules” of the game? Maybe it’s the cake or the keg that convinces you to attend the party. Aside from intoxicants, maybe you indulge in meta behavior during a game, such as role-playing as a snobbish socialite while playing Monopoly or tormenting your fellow Risk players with insults in order to distract them from good play.

They key is recognizing where the game falls on the spectrum between hazards and skill. And speaking of intoxicants, I am reminded of The Serenity Prayer, or the first part of it, anyway.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

Reinhold Neibuhr

Look for the balancing procedures in a game. Most games will have the hazard of other players. Any cooperative game must make up the difference in some way, else it will creep too far towards staleness of “everyone agrees on this one best choice”.

Look for the skills required by the game. Developing those skills over time will be a separate meta-game played against yourself as you “get good”. As your skill increases, your ability to apply your will into the game state increases, as does your enjoyment. You achieve more and more agency.

When a game contains more randomness, you can accept that these are elements you cannot change. Focus on what you can change and don’t worry so much about what you can’t predict. As you develop the wisdom of knowing the balance between hazards and skill in a game, you can detach from any frustration that comes from lack of control.

Finally, my advice is to recognize opportunities to step outside of the game rules themselves to find amusement. Where the rules are silent, your will has free reign. Roleplaying games offer huge gaps in the procedures for injecting your own creativity for everyone’s amusement. Nothing in the rule book requires you to talk like a pirate, but it’s a choice you can make if it pleases you.

And after all, the point of playing a game is to have fun.

Source

Here are the 31 books I read in 2023, a total that’s a bit lower than average. I’m not sure what I was doing instead. Writing blog posts? Working on Basic Fantasy RPG projects? Let’s see what I can remember about these books, going in reverse chronological order because I keep track in Google Keep which doesn’t let me sort by date added.

Sarcasm and Glory: A Rock and Roll Testimonial by J. D. Yorke

This book arrived at Christmas and I think I read through it in a day or two. I think I heard about it via Albert Bouchard, and the book is dedicated to Albert and his brother, two founding members of Blue Oyster Cult. The book seems to be a collection of Facebook posts. It was like reading through someone’s timeline going back several years.

The Siege of the Black Citadel by Chuck Dixon

This is the first in a new series of Conan novels by the comic book writer who invented Bane and took over from Mike Baron on The Punisher back in the 90s. It’s good. Dixon is an excellent writer, and I enjoyed Levon’s Trade a couple of years ago. There’s already a second book in the series that I haven’t picked up yet. The book itself has a pulpy feel being about 7×9 and thin like an old magazine, and it has cool illustrations inside.

I clipped that short passage. You know when things are really tough, and people around you are talking about praying for help, and you realize your god, Crom, is just laughing at you from atop his mountain? It can be motivating.

The Beginning Was The End by Jade Dellinger and David Giffels

This is a history of the band DEVO. It’s an abridged version of an earlier edition that I couldn’t find. I read this book right around the time that we went to Paso Robles to see DEVO in concert. Some of the details in the book I already knew from other sources. Mark Motherbaugh was on Rick Rubin’s Broken Record podcast last year and told the story about meeting Richard Branson in Jamaica. Then I saw him retell it on a Tony Hawk podcast.

The King of Elfland’s Daughter by Lord Dunsany

This novel is on Gygax’s Appendix N list, a classic. It has an ethereal feel, almost a myth. The plot surprised me all along. I was expecting the elves to be more gnarly as in Anderson’s Broken Sword. One thing I took away from this for playing D&D is how there can be lines dividing worlds that you can simply cross (if the king allows you).

Dominance and Submission by Martin Popoff

Don’t let this out, but if Martin keeps writing BOC books, I will keep buying them. This book covers the studio albums in a conversational style similar to Martin’s YouTube channel, The Contrarians. Five guys BOC fans talking about what they like or don’t like about the album, going track by track. I like how when I get one of his books, they come wrapped in a Canadian newspaper and Martin signs in the inside.

The Randolph Carter Tales by H. P. Lovecraft

I’m slowly making my way through a complete collection of Lovecraft that came as several books. This one had the Carter tales, mostly one long novel about Carter making his way through dreamland. As with the Dunsany novel, there’s a journey into another realm that reminds me of Haderax in my own Terror in Tosasth adventure book for Basic Fantasy RPG. It also reminds me of Sign of the Labrys by Margaret St. Clair.

Company of One by Paul Jarvis

I think I saw this on Hacker News and bought it on impulse. I wrote a whole blog post about the ideas in the book: To Grow, or Not to Grow.

Real-World Next.js by Michele Riva

My most important client, Clorox, is doing more site in Next.js, and I need to be aware of how it works in my role as platform architect. This book is 8.5×11 and pretty thick. I bet a lot of people read it on a computer or tablet. I can’t help thinking that Next is a reinvention of all the PHP work that went on a couple of decades ago.

Turn the Ship Around! by L. David Marquet

I feel like this book was on my Amazon wishlist for years, probably from back when I was a VP at Clear Ink. Then it showed up as a Christmas gift in 2022. It’s about a Navy guy who helped get teams on submarines working better together. One idea that comes back to me often is the approach of stating intent rather than asking for permission or agreement. I’ve found myself sometimes telling dev teams, “I intend to release a new version upstream that takes us to PHP 8.2 this month,” rather that just doing it or hashing it out in a meeting. It streamlines interactions.

First Blood by David Morrell

This is the novel that inspired the Stalone movie. As is typical, the novel is more interesting than the movie, which is a good movie. It’s a straight up adventure with lots of fighting that ends in a more 1970s way than the movie.

The Road to React by Robin Wierych

This book is about React without much about Next. I think it was the right choice to read about React first and then about the particular way Next uses it.

Laughing Shall I Die by Tom Shippey

Shippey is an expert on Tolkien, but this book is about viking sagas. In some ways, it’s a companion to the TV series, Vikings. It goes over the sagas and considers which parts could be true. Reading this book inspired me to watch the show, which starts strong and doesn’t live up to the first half by the end. There are many great ideas for D&D in this overview of the sagas, and the historical parts of quite interesting on their own. The thing I remember most is the story of a viking facing decapitation who asks that someone hold his long hair back. When the axe comes down, he jerks up so that it chops off the hands of the guy holding his hair. It was a brief moment in the show, but I was happy to see it after having read about it.

Tony Bath’s Ancient Wargaming by John Curry

Bath was a pioneer in organizing huge wargaming campaigns, and this book collects his writings about how to design battle rules and how to run the long campaign. I knew it was a classic and wanted to glean ideas for my long-running Basic Fantasy RPG campaign. It’s has a quintessential 1970s style, similar to D&D original little brown books.

Modern JavaScript for the Impatient by Cay Horstmann

Long ago, my PHP book was a sibling to Horstmann’s Java book in Prentice Hall’s “Core” series. His book is currently in a 12th edition! I knew he wrote well, so I picked up his book about JavaScript to catch up on the stuff that’s appeared in the last few years. This book is oriented toward readers who have already mastered one or more programming languages and just need to know how JavaScript is different. That’s exactly right for me, although much of it was still review rather than learning anything new. I really enjoyed this book.

Arbiter of Worlds by Alexander Macris

Macris is the author of the D&D retroclone Adventurer, Conqueror, King. This book is a collection of advice about mastering roleplaying games of all types. I tend to agree with everything Alex states here, as well as the additional information available in his YouTube channel.

The White Pill by Micheal Malice

Malice, popular anarchist and writer, published this book that generally covers anarchist and communist thinking during the 19th and 20th centuries. Various details about the Russia and the rise of the Soviets were interesting.

Hiero’s Journey and The Unforsaken Hiero by Sterling Lanier

I read a collected volume of the two Hiero books by Lanier. The protagonist is a mystic in post-apocalyptic Canada. The books are listed in Appendix N and influenced both Advanced D&D and Gamma World. The magic of this world is primary psychic and technological. Strange monsters populate the landscape, some mutated in body or gaining sentience. And there are cryptic factions scheming to control the world. The writing is pulpy and not at all like modern “hero’s journey” stuff. These books continue to inspire me.

Outlive by Peter Attia

I think I grabbed this on impulse based on a Cernovich recommendation. The information in this book was mostly review for me, except Attia’s life story. It probably didn’t get me to pay more attention to the quantity of protein in my diet.

The Dragon Masters by Jack Vance

I enjoy everything by Vance, and I have been rationing his books, not reading them all at once. This book is not stereotypical fantasy. It’s more properly science fiction in the way Vance designs worlds where a pocket of low technology exists in a universe of high technology. In some ways, it’s like Anderson’s High Crusade, where medieval people are plucked off the earth to fight battles with high tech aliens, except in The Dragon Masters, high tech aliens are invading a world that’s forgotten much of its scientific knowledge.

Wired for Love by Stephanie Caciopoo

This is a light book about the science of love intertwined with the author’s personal story about losing her husband.

The Lost Dungeon of Tonisborg

From the guys who produced Secrets of Blackmoor, this book collects everything about an old school dungeon played in the 1970s. Plus, it has an RPG system similar to D&D. This is a valuable artifact for learning how the early game was played. I’m sure I’d never just run this as is because I enjoy creating adventures myself, but there’s so much to borrow here. I have a nice, purple hardback from the original release, but you can get an inexpensive paperback at The Fellowship of the Thing.

Kids of the Black Hole by Dewar MacLeod

This book covers the punk scene in Los Angeles associated with the Black Hole apartments. I’ve read a lot of books about punk that overlap, so it’s hard to remember which things I learned specifically from this book. I still enjoy reading these types of books about music history.

Here’s Your Irony Back by Raymond Pettibon

This big coffee table book shows off some of Pettibon’s artwork from some time ago. I suppose most people know him from Black Flag album covers, so I guess this book is adjacent to my interest in punk rock history. I appreciate being able to look closely at the drawings and the words. I also enjoy Pettibon’s messages on X.

Why We Meditate by Daniel Goleman and Tsoknyi Rinpoche

I meditate every morning, and I have for several years. I’m sure it reduces stress. I purposely meditate first thing in the morning to counteract the cortisol released by my body to wake me up. It also seems to provide an ongoing base of calm as long as I keep the up the practice. As such, I am keen to learn more about meditation because I think I could improve.

This book pairs a scientist with a monk, seeking an integration of tradition and the science to explain the effectiveness. It’s not a manual. It’s more a narrative and an overview with a few hints for what they might learn next.

The New Abnormal by Aaron Kheriaty

I think this was a gift I felt obligated to read. It’s a rundown on all the absurdities that started in 2020.

Lamentations of the Flame Princess by James Raggi

LotFP, as people call it, is a D&D retroclone with a reputation for lewd artwork. The author, James Raggi, posts interesting videos on YouTube and I think he was having a hard time with people “cancelling” him in 2023. I admired his statement about sticking to principles. He’s funny and weird, and I generally prefer weird things.

I’m sure I don’t have time to play LotFP, but I there were a few inspiring ideas from this game that have either crept into my own BFRPG campaign or threaten to. I keep thinking about the firearm rules, for instance.

Dungeon Hacks by David L Craddick

This is an amazing review of rogue-likes, a particular genre of computer game that has a somewhat vague definition. After reading this book, I spent a lot of time playing the original Rogue in an Amiga emulator. I actually found the Amulet of Yendor but was unable to escape the dungeon without starving.

The Primal Primer by Luke Weinhagen

This book is an introduction to surviving and apocalypse. I can hardly remember much about it now. I think it was an impulse buy, and it had some information about preserving food and just dealing with crumbling services.

Altered Traits by Daniel Goleman and Richard J Davidson

This is another book about meditation, with an emphasis on how meditation can change your body. The science suggests some amazing feats achievable by masters of meditation. This book isn’t a how-to guide, though.

Slaying the Dragon by Ben Riggs

This book covers the history of D&D with a focus on the 1980s. It gives a much clearer picture of TSR as it fell apart during that time, offering up many details about the business. Business history books are another genre I enjoy, and I often think about a history of Commodore Computers I read many years ago. This book is a good companion to books by Jon Peterson if you want to get a more complete picture of the rise and fall of the most famous RPG game company.

Source