According to at least one source, Granada’s Alhambra Palace is the most visited tourist attraction in Spain. I’m sure the people in Barcelona would argue that their Sagrada Familia actually holds that honour, but the fact is that people have been going to visit the Alhambra since it became a Moorish royal palace in 1333. Or at least since Washington Irving wrote his Tales of the Alhambra in 1840.
The building in this photo looks a bit strange. It appears European but also has a style uniquely its own. One might be excused for thinking that this is European Colonial architecture in some far-off colony, but in fact it was built by one of Ethiopia’s most anti-colonial emperors.
The Emperor Fasiladas reigned from 1632 to 1667 and was a strong ruler right from the start. Like the Merovingian kings and the Moroccan sultans, Fasiladas had to contend with powerful noble families who had close connections to their local tribes and clans. Ethiopian emperors would spend much of their time in the saddle, going on “visits” to their provinces with large armies in tow.
So I am doing a historical project for a client. I’ve done this before several times now: “12th century and mystic conspiracy stuff — Go!”
How does this chime with Elizabeth “Eat, Love, Pray” Gilbert’s Big Magic that was all about; “Be serious about having fun being creative but don’t burden it or yourself by taking it too seriously or expecting too much from it”?
What happens when your creativity becomes a serious thing because (a) people are paying you for it, and (b) you are using it to pay other people (like shops that sell food your children eat)? What happens when you are (c) doing it to order?
In my case we’re talking writing fiction. In other cases it could be sword fighting (I know several people who do this professionally), writing, costuming, dancing, burlesque…(we know who you are).
How do you play for money?
Lost worlds, pocket universes, dimensional traveling: these are things that warm my heart. Barsoom, the World of Tiers, and the Land of the Lost are places I want to see. A sword-swinging hero and warrior princess, well that’s pretty great by me. If your reactions are like mine then you are Brian Keene’s target audience for The Lost Level (2015), his love song to a certain kind of glorious pulp adventure that there aren’t enough of anymore. On the acknowledgements page he spells out explicitly the artists whose works helped inspire The Lost Level: Edgar Rice Burroughs, Robert E. Howard, Sid and Marty Krofft, Roy Thomas, Joe R. Lansdale, Mike Grell, John Eric Holmes, Karl Edward Wagner, Otis Adelbert Kline, Carlton Mellick III, and H.G. Wells. A tantalizing roll call of pulp genius. I am definitely this book’s target.
See that cover to the left? Even before I read a glowing review from Charles Rutledge, someone whose opinion I trust, that cover (by Kirsi Salonen) bellowed “BUY ME!” so loud and clear I knew I couldn’t hold out for long. Briefly, The Lost Level is the tale of a man from Earth lost in a different dimension, and his adventures alongside a warrior princess and a furry, blue alien. Now that I’ve read it… well, I really love the cover.
Brian Keene is best known as a prolific writer of gonzo horror (38 novels and 10 story collections over 13 years). His first novel, The Rising is credited with helping spark the current zombie craze, but I think it’s too good to merit the blame. I’ve only dipped a toe into his vast body of work but it’s been fun, if a little bloody. His established talent, coupled with that eye-popping cover, led me to have high hopes for the book.
Linked below, you’ll find the twelfth installment of a brand-new serialized novel, In the Wake Of Sister Blue. Vagen’s longest day continues into nightfall and beyond, featuring escape for some, capture for others, and the possibility of an unexpected crown for…well. Best read on and find out for yourself. Chapter Thirteen will follow in two weeks’ time, so stay tuned –– and for those who fear I’m writing a doorstop, be reassured. This will be Book One of a pair (but no, not an ongoing, endless cycle), and the Great Divide between the two will be reached in Chapter Fifteen.
A number of you will already be familiar with my Tales Of Gemen (“The Trade,” “The Find,” and “The Keystone“), and if you enjoyed those titles (or perhaps my unexpectedly popular D&D-related post, “Youth In a Box,”) I think you’ll also find much to like in this latest venture. Oh, and if you’re only now discovering this portal, may I suggest you begin at the beginning? The Spur awaits…
Read the first installment of In the Wake Of Sister Blue here.
Read the twelfth and latest installment of In the Wake Of Sister Blue here.
Back in 2010, Wizards of the Coast (WotC) decided to put out a board game that replicated playing 4th Edition Dungeons and Dragons. Now, 4th Edition was a debacle, but Castle Ravenloft, which was the first of four games in the Dungeons and Dragons Adventure Game line, is quite the opposite. It’s a cooperative dungeon crawl with set scenarios but random tile placement and in which the game itself serves as the dungeon master.
I’ve not played Castle Ravenloft (previously discussed here at Black Gate), which uses the iconic D&D setting. However, I am pretty familiar with 2011’s follow-up, Wrath of Ashardalon. Ashardalon is a red dragon and the party explores a cave system to eventually try and stop him. It was followed by The Legend of Drizz’t (here atBlack Gate), based on the NY Times best-selling books by R. A. Salvatore. I have also played this one several times. It looked like that was the end of the series, but last year, WizKids stepped in and in conjunction with WotC, produced a fourth installment, Temple of Elemental Evil (and also here at Black Gate). I own that but haven’t played it yet.
The games are all quite similar. There were a few changes in the first three, but I would say they’re at least 90% the same, maybe even a bit more. Temple added a campaign mode, (where you can keep items between scenarios!) that looks to be a notable change and one I look forward to exploring.
THE PARTS
Each game comes with about a dozen sheets of interlocking tiles that make up the dungeon, as well as on average, 200 Encounter, Monster, Treasure and Hero cards that are the game play, plus tokens of various types. There’s a nice glossy, short, easy to read rule book as well as a similar Scenario book. And of course, one 20 sided die. But the real draw is the figures.
Each has about 40 heroes and monsters! They are not painted and all are reissues of official D&D minis. But where else are you going to get this many minis for the price? And you can always paint them or buy painted versions (I did that for some) if you want to jazz it up. For me, the components are well worth the cost. It all comes in a HUGE, sturdy box. I sleeved one game and everything still fits (though not in the same places). If you like to buy board games that come with a LOT of stuff, these games absolutely are the kind of thing you’re looking for. And nothing looks cheap: they use solid components.
If you have a book you’d like me to review, please see this post for instructions to submit. I am officially out of stories, since I haven’t received any recently and I’m reluctant to go back to submissions from more than a year ago.
While I usually limit myself to self-published books in my reviews here, I’ll occasionally review small press publications if I’m asked. This month’s review is of one such book, Ross Smeltzer’s The Mark of the Shadow Grove.
The Mark of the Shadow Grove is somewhere between a novel and a story collection. It contains three novellas, “The Witch of Kinderhook,” “Lord of All High and Hidden Places”, and “The Rule of Old Blood.” These three stories are all first person, but each one has a different narrator from a different time period: a necromancer’s apprentice in the 1820s, a young coed in the 1880s, and a journalist in the 1920s. But though the stories are from different perspectives and different times, they are ultimately connected, telling the story of two intertwined families, and the dark secrets that bind them. It is Lovecraftian in its horror, with gods beyond human ken who cause madness in those who encounter them, but it has eschewed any of Lovecraft’s deities for more familiar ones.
“The Witch of Kinderhook” tells its story both through the recollections of Tom, the aforementioned apprentice, and the journal of his missing master, Carver. Carver is not much of a necromancer. In reality he is a medical examiner with a history of fraud, an unhealthy obsession with old books of supposed occult lore, and an ill-founded belief in his ability to apply science to the ancient search for reviving the dead. He has come to Kinderhook to find the witch who dwells there, sure that she knows the secrets he seeks. Carver is disappointed with what he finds, and holds the witch’s attempts to teach him in contempt. Tom, meanwhile, is drawn to the beautiful witch Katrina.
You know, as much as I write about Kickstarter, there just always seems to be more to say. Just this week I was reading a blog post by Danny Capaccio entitled ‘The Myth of Kickstarter’ which certainly got my juices flowing to write more on the subject. You see, Danny was writing about his… I’ll use the word ‘concern,’ that Kickstarter isn’t what it’s billed to be. Danny had a Kickstarter campaign that was going to fail (and now has), and although he did manage nearly $10,000 in contributions for his game ‘#Storytags’, it didn’t really sniff the $17,000 he required for the campaign to fund.
Danny’s theory iss that successful Kickstarter companies now dominate the platform and drown out smaller companies and individuals who really need it. Sorry Danny, you are a few years late on this one as I tilted at the windmill with The Pillaging of Kickstarter here on Black Gate in early 2012, four years ago! Granted, Danny extends my rant with the caveat that once a company has success they should get out and run a business like normal, not Kickstart all their future projects.
The primary difference between Danny and I is that I’ve had fourteen successfully run and fulfilled Kickstarter campaigns since 2012, and had two before I even wrote my infamous ‘Pillaging’ article, while Danny’s only attempt has now failed. Still, I’m sure he’s getting the same ‘sour grapes’ jibes I did back in 2012, but nonetheless, I’m no longer convinced that my 2012 argument is sound, while Danny’s 2016 version is closer to the truth, and yet still is a ‘miss’ on the target.
While World War II continued to escalate, the April 1941 issue of Unknown was published. It’s easy to imagine the desire to escape through Unknown’s fantasy fiction during such times of uncertainty.
“The Castle of Iron” by L. Sprague de Camp and Fletcher Pratt — A trio of psychologists use magic to transport between worlds. Harold Shea and Vaclav Polacek join their friend Reed “Doc” Chalmers, who summons them to an iron castle owned by a leading magician named Atlantes. Atlantes promises to help Doc save the life of a young woman he’s in love with, but there never seems to be any progress. Doc suspects he’s being perpetually lured so that Atlantes has an ally against the threat of opposing knights.
When Atlantes’ nephew, Roger, leaves the castle, Atlantes fears betrayal and sends Harold and Vaclav out to search for the young man. But searching the land among enemy knights isn’t a simple matter.
De Camp and Pratt wrote five stories around the main cast of characters, known today as the Compleat Enchanter series. “The Castle of Iron” is the third in the series, and the previous two appeared in other issues of Unknown — “The Roaring Trumpet” in May, 1940, and “The Mathematics of Magic” in August, 1940. The final two stories were later published in Beyond Fantasy Magazine and Fantasy Magazine. “The Castle of Iron” was expanded into a novel in 1950.
The novella (yes, I know it’s listed in the Table of Contents as a novel) is a pretty quick read. Having no familiarity with the characters previously, I didn’t have much difficulty in jumping into the series; there was enough background information without turning things into info dumps or “as you know, Bob” statements. While I’m curious about the series as a whole, I probably won’t rush out to find it. Not that it’s a bad story, but it did feel somewhat slow at points, and I wasn’t completely drawn into the characters. I wonder if I’d feel differently if I’d started with the first story and worked my way up to this one.
As you can see from the list of prior essays in this series down below, we’ve wandered all over the Robert E. Howard landscape. But we hadn’t touched on Howard’s science fiction. Dr. Fred Adams goes off-planet for us and examines one of Howard’s cult classics, Almuric. Blasting off…
In his novel Almuric, published in Weird Tales in 1939, Robert E. Howard presents a one-shot protagonist named Esau Cairn, a man in many ways typical of Howard’s barbarian warrior-heroes, but who departs from them in that he is more philosophical than most of Howard’s creations, and perhaps in many ways best speaks to Howard’s personality and philosophy.
Much of the discussion of Esau Cairn and of Almuric hinges on what I call the WWCD? Issue: ‘What Would Conan Do?’ in the modern world. That topic has been exhaustively covered by the discussion threads of the Robert E. Howard Society, and several interpretations have been postulated. To me, the importance of Esau Cairn as a character is that he gives voice to Howard’s own frustration at being a man of action trapped in a relatively genteel world.
Howard wrote, in “The Tower of the Elephant,” “Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing.” Cairn bears out that rule when his barbarism rises to the surface and he kills a corrupt politician (perhaps rightfully so) with a single blow to the head.