[DL] An Old Review (VERY LONG)

[Dane & Melody <melndane@cableone.net>]

Howdy all...

<<rabid fanboy...er....fanman? alert>>

I was sitting back looking through my Dragon Magazine (R) Archives
software, and just reminiscing back to the old days when I could game
for 46 hours straight on 20 minutes sleep.  Then, I came upon this
article.

Now, you have to understand: getting into Deadlands was different for
me.  I was a dyed-in-the-wool AD&D fantasy gamer with little other
experience in few other game system (I see four fingers...).  Believe it
or not, this was the review that turned me on to playing Deadlands. 
And, oh boy, did I get hooked.  My wife still rolls her eyes when I
start talking about it to friends...

I submit this for a couple of reasons.  First, as a historian, I think
it is good to look back and see where we came from, and to really
appreciate what we've got now (notice how many of these early criticisms
have been replied to).  Second, we can see where it all started, and
have pride that -- all of us in our own ways -- we've contributed to the
growth of one kick-butt game.  Third, this is a kudos to all of the
creative people at Pinnacle for creating a great game.  Finally, this
might remind some of you where you first saw/heard of Deadlands.  Those
kinds of stories are the best kind told around around a camp fire during
the cattle drive.

This review appeared in Dragon Magazine, Issue #236 (December 1996), and
is used without permission.  So don't tell anyone (I hope no one will
mind)!  This is in reference to the original soft cover Deadlands book. 
BTW, the reviewer (Rick Swan) gave it four pips out of six:

__________________________
	I’ve had my heart broken plenty of times, so you’d think after Kay
Elliason refused to go to my high school prom, Random House rejected my
proposal for a history of the Beach Boys, and the debut of Star Trek:
Voyager, I’d be used to it. Not so. Take Deadlands, for example. My
hopes were high. The buzz at the GEN CON® Game Fair was strong. The
cover looked great. But . . . well, I’m getting ahead of myself.

	Turn to page 20 of the rulebook, and take a gander at the illustration
of the Old West sheriff, flat on his back, a tentacle lodged in his
mouth. That’s Deadlands in a nutshell: silly, outrageous, irresistible.
The year is 1876, thirteen years after sinister spirits called the
Manitous oozed their way across the nation, prolonging the Civil War,
unleashing hordes of life-leeching fiends, and transforming the west
coast into a warzone of spell-casting shamans and ghost-wrangling
gunslingers. Veteran designer Shane Lacy Hensley nails the
tongue-in-cheek tone in the opening lines: “Howdy, Marshal. Thought ya
might be gettin’ up soon. Those tinhorns that planted ya didn’t realize
you wuz already dead . . . And pull that worm outta yer ear.” Yep, it’s
Bonanza meets Tales from the Crypt. Not since the Shadowrun* game, with
its revolutionary mix of fantasy and cyber-punk, has a cross-pollination
had so much potential.

	The engaging character types range from Bounty Hunters and Cowpokes to
Saloon Gals and Snake Oil Salesman. After selecting an archetype, the
player deals himself a dozen cards from a standard poker deck. He throws
out two cards of his choice, then consults the Trait Die Table to
determine the number of points generated by each remaining card; a deuce
generates 1d4 points, a king generates 1d10. He assigns each set of
points to one of ten Traits, such as Deftness, Quickness, Nimbleness,
Smarts, and Strength. A fixed number of Aptitude Points are spent on a
menu of skills that includes Medicine, Persuasion, and about 60 other
options. The player may also customize his PC with advantages
(Mechanically Inclined, Sense of Direction, Tough as Nails), and
disadvantages (All Thumbs, Bad Eyes, Illiterate), so long as the point
total of the former equals the point total of the latter. Despite a few
problems  — the differences between Deftness, Quickness, and Nimbleness
are more obvious to the designer than they are to me  — the system
produces lively, beguiling characters.

	To resolve an action, the player rolls a number of dice associated with
the rating in the relevant aptitude or skill. The die with the highest
result is used to determine the outcome. For instance, a Cowpoke
attempting to navigate his steed over a treacherous mountain trail might
need to make a Horse Riding roll to prevent a tumble over the cliff. His
Horse Riding rating, let’s say, is 3d8. He rolls and gets a 2, 3, and 5;
he uses the 5. The gamemaster consults the Difficulty Table; the 5
produces only a Fair outcome. Not good enough. Goodbye, Cowpoke.

	Combat expands on the skill rules. Action cards — again, cards from an
ordinary deck — determine initiative. Nimbleness ratings generate
movement speeds. Shooting involves range modifiers, target size, and
special maneuvers like called shots and fanning. To resolve attacks,
die-rolls are compared to the relevant aptitude and skill ratings. To
assess damage, the gamemaster consults the Damage Steps Table, the Armor
Table, the Wound Effects Table, and the Stun & Recovery Table. It’s a
bit convoluted — the result, I suspect, of the designer trying too hard
to be different — but it works reasonably well.

	Too bad the effort that went into the combat system wasn’t invested in
the setting, because what we’re given is little more than an overview.
The book opens with a fascinating historical summary, describing the
coming of the Manitous, the steam wagon assault on Washington, and the
ghost rock mines of California. But it’s downhill from there. Yes, we
get an enticing magic system, based on passages from Hoyle’s Book of
Games. Yes, we get engaging gizmos like freeze rays and rocket packs.
And yes, we get a zooful of creepy beasts: wall crawlers, devil bats,
prairie ticks. But there are no interesting personalities to speak of.
There’s next to nothing about geography, politics, or culture. Cities,
villages, places to explore — practically none. And there’s not a single
ready-to-play adventure. To test the system, I had to adapt an old Call
of Cthulhu* game scenario, which took me all day. Boo! Hiss!

	Evaluation: Deadlands is by no means bad. It’s beautifully written and
bursting with nifty ideas. It strikes a masterful balance between high
camp and high adventure. It has a great cover. But it’s incomplete; with
a setting this skeletal and the absence of adventures, how’s a newcomer
supposed to cobble together a campaign? If I were the cynical type, I’d
suspect the omissions were intentional — if you wanna fill in the
blanks, then you gotta buy the supplements (and according to the ads,
there’s an avalanche on the way). I oughta be strong. I oughta walk
away. But Deadlands is so attractive, so full of promise, I know I’ll be
coming back for more. God help me  — it’s Kay Elliason all over again.
________________________

I now return to lurker status...

D.