Ever wonder just how much treasure one would find in a dragon’s horde? And not in Dungeons & Dragons terms, but in understandable terms — like who would be worth more, Smaug or Bill Gates?

We don’t — but then again, we don’t have to because Forbes magazine cares about these things for us.

For the record, you’d make off far better by slaying Bill Gates and making off with his horde than you would Smaug’s — Bill is worth seven times Smaug’s value, if you leave out the Arkenstone.

Photo of a Champion Bavarian Pigeon from the National Pigeon Association.
Webcomic is Mordant Orange by Mike Bannon.

Unlike Backpacking Dad, I am addicted to reading to my daughter. The exhausting pace of life ensures that I do not do a lot of reading, and am not doing any heavy reading — but what I do read, I tend to read out loud.

I also pay attention to what she likes. It’s easier if she is enjoying herself (or falling asleep) than if Maggie is getting bored by my reading. So sometimes I read children’s books to her. Reading books like The Hobbit or The Gruffalo out loud give me the feeling that children’s literature is closer to poetry than to adult literature. The words are meant to be tasted, not just read.

Amongst the books we own is a set of The Complete Works of Beatrix Potter. Three times now, I have attempted to pick up one of these books and read it to Maggie.

Attempt One: Peter Rabbit

The Tale of Peter Rabbit is, of course, the most famous of these books. Or, at the very least, is the one that I remember best from my childhood. So I eagerly opened it up and began reading.

My first impression is that I did not care for the taste very much. The book was just explaining the story in a very matter-of-fact way. I might not have noticed this, in comparison to some other books, had I not been reading aloud. But when forced to taste the words, a bit of appreciation died away.

Beyond that, I was slightly appalled. Peter Rabbit, it turns out, is a bit of a cunt. Not somebody I want to be a hero in Maggie’s world. The Tale of the Cuntish Rabbit, as I might now refer to it, might not get a second airing.

Attempt Two: Benjamin Bunny

Our second reading of the Potter books was The Tale of Benjamin Bunny. This one was better. While I still did not care for the taste of the words, at least young Benjamin was not a cunt. Seemed like a decent enough fellow, actually.

And we read along, happily — hoppily? — until we got to the end … when Benjamin’s father shows up and beats him for no apparent reason, other than that’s what fathers do to their children.

There’s even an illustration of it.

While Peter Rabbit might not get another airing, I do not think that Benjamin Bunny will see the light of day again.

Attempt Three: The Flopsy Bunnies

Our third attempt at reading the works of Beatrix Potter was The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies.

“This one would be OK,” I convinced myself. “Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-tail were good little bunnies. Not like that Peter.”

And I set to reading.

WHEN Benjamin Bunny grew up, I read out loud to my daughter, he married his Cousin Flopsy.

I am fairly certain I did not quite make it through the entire sentence.

Incest!

On page two!

And so the beautifully illustrated works of Beatrix Potter will not be read in this house.

Perhaps instead we shall flip through the pages, look at the pictures, and I will lie to Maggie about what those rabbits are doing.

We just now realised that this is a Friday the 13th. We apologise for the lack of gore in today’s morning coffee. We should have planned ahead. Instead, we realise this only after having picked out an entirely gore-free Friday coffee.

In news that everybody has already doubtlessly already seen, but for which we would feel remiss should it not appear in this space, Steven Slater knows how to quit a job.

(Hobbiton, once the pride of New Zealand the Shire, is now overrun with sheep.)

I am so happy that Edgar Allan Poe has joined twitter: I have stared with dread into the craggy sockets of the abyss & marveled at its resemblance to Facebook.

More on how your initials impact your life. Children who have a first name that start with an “A” have a tendency to outperform those with a first initial “D” in school. The theory is that we live up to our initials. We will experiment with this for my baby. She will have awesome initials. FAST, and encourage her to be a runner? LOOT, and encourage her to be a bank robber? We will see.

Some time ago, I read an interesting article on Gnome Stew titled Batting .300.

The article itself is basically an observation: In baseball, most batters are unsuccessful — getting three hits in ten at-bats is considered to be good. Similarly, in roleplaying games, the majority of campaigns seem not to end; instead they just stop.

There is a difference, however. In baseball, the players do everything they can to get a fourth hit out of ten — they take drugs, study video, practice every day. They strive to be the first player in decades to get four out of ten. Roleplayers tend not to take a look at their practices in an attempt to improve their success rate.

Here at the Big Bad Blog, we intend to look at causes for failure — based largely on personal experience — and think of how to correct them.

Our first target is what we choose to call Tolkien Syndrome.

What is Tolkien Syndrome?

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote a book called The Hobbit. It was a story about a Hobbit who went on a big adventure with some Dwarves and a Wizard. He went There and Back Again. The story was mostly about the There part. Getting There and dealing with a Dragon.

Later, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote another book, called Lord of the Rings. This was an epic story. Again, a Hobbit went There and Back Again. But this time the fate of the world hung in the balance.

Tolkien syndrome is when, in the planning stages, you plan to run The Hobbit, but, when the game happens, you try to make it into The Lord of the Rings. The first adventure happens, and you then string it along into something larger.

What’s wrong with Tolkien Syndrome?

The problem with this approach is that there is seldom a plan. Tolkien published The Hobbit in the 1930s, and The Lord of the Rings in the 1950s. That left more than a decade for working out a plan.

While we would not suggest that you spend a decade to plan your epic campaign, it does put things in perspective — you cannot just make the magic ring from the first adventure very important and send your heroes back out the door without a plan for how it will work, and how the players might resolve their new ring problem. In particular, the epic plot needs to be more meticulously laid out than the get-the-treasure-from-the-dragon plot.

In the working world, we would call this “scope creep”. What we are doing seems good, so why not add a bit more?

Handling Tolkien Syndrome

There are several strategies that can be employed against Tolkien Syndrome.

Do not give into it. When your adventure ends, call it quits. This does not mean that the group of players must disband — it might just be time for a new game. It is never a bad thing to go out on a high note.

Take a break. The first adventure was awesome, and you want more — the same players, the same characters, the same world. This does not mean that you need to give more right away. Do not be afraid to say: “I didn’t plan for any more of this game — I’m going to need some time to come up with the next chapter.”

Recognize it. Those who have seen scope creep in the working world know that it can often be a subtle thing. Look for signs that you are just trying to fill out the campaign without any purpose behind them. If you see them, put the game back on course — there is no shame in bringing the game to a conclusion.

Alternative Endings

One of the keys we are espousing here is that in order to have a game that ends well, a GM must an end in mind — although how you reach that end can be up in the air. Of course, not all campaigns will have a clear Lord of the Rings type ending in mind — your style of gaming might feature a series of Hobbit-like endings instead.

In these situations, consider taking a look around when approaching each Hobbit ending. Is the game still as fun as it used to be? Is it still worthwhile? Where is the next ending? Remember that each of your small endings can be made into the grand finale — Harry Potter could have ended with any one of the books actually marking Voldemort’s final defeat.

So much of fantasy literature is based on Lord of the Rings. Fantasy bookshelves are filled with trilogies, five book sets, and The Wheel of Time — it seems like all our source material is in series format.

Be brave, and break away from the mould. Your campaign does not have to be a series or a trilogy. It can be a stand-alone novel.

Or even a short story, if you allow it to be.