Larry DiTillio’s article in The Dragon #36, “Painted Ladies &
Potted Monks,” was quite thought-provoking. In that article, Mr.
DiTillio raised some interesting questions which touch the deeper
dimensions of role playing. In short, he suggested that we are doing a
bit more than “playing”; we are forming attitudes toward real life.

It is the intention of this article to push beyond the conclusion of
Mr. DiTillio’s piece. If statements in this article give him some rough
handling, it is not out of contempt. Mr. DiTillio deserves our thanks
and respect for his sensitivity to the effects his game was having on
younger players and for his attempt to respond to those effects in a
responsible manner.

The exchange between the DM and the shy Paladin which Mr.
DiTillio relates needs some examination. The Paladin asked if engaging in (what appears to have been) some gratuitous sexual titillation was or was not a violation of his character’s alignment. The DM
responded by saying that “if he considered sex evil it was, though in
[the DM’s] opinion it wasn’t.” The DM responded on the level of
right and wrong. The point here is that the question was not about
right or wrong; it was about the appropriate response of a character.
The question was: Do Paladins engage in such activities? The question was not: Is it right or wrong? The question that was actually
asked was straight out of Faerie. The DM’s reponse was direct from
Poughkeepsie. It is important to hear what is actually being asked as
we play games; the rules of the game may be different than the rules
of “real life. ”

Please permit a short digression here. Faerie, or Elfland, is a
strange world. It is not familiar or comfortable to us. It is weird,
awe-ful, wonder-ful. Anything which comes directly out of "real life"
is from Poughkeepsie; it is comfortable, familiar, plastic, ultimately
trivial and boring. The art of Fantasy is not concerned with real-life
evil, or science, or quickies or getting high. It is concerned with the
profound mystery behind and within life, nature and the human
soul. Anytime you sense “real life” creeping into a fantasy game,
you know that the Poughkeepsie Factor is at work. So ends the
digression.

What can we make of the answer to the Paladin’s question? Was
the answer adequate even in “real life” terms? I cannot see that it
was. Is something right just because we think it is right? If Hitler feels
that it is right for him to kill six million Jews, is that morally acceptable? Was the Inquisition right because the Pope said it was? It seems
to me that this kind of relativistic morality is untenable. My own
suspicion is that people accept such relativity either because they
have not given the matter sufficient thought, or because they wish to
avoid the moral claim or issue which is implicit in a given situation or
decision.

Is something right just because we think it is right? If Hitler feels that it is right for him to kill six million Jews, is that morally acceptable?

In spite of expressing a relativistic morality, Mr. DiTillio later
communicates a sincere desire to provide “real life situations in a
dungeon” which will enable players to “pick up reasonable attitudes
toward the very real evils of life.” He wants to use games as teaching
devices by espousing “real life” good. Although such charitable
impulses are to be applauded, they drag us out of Faerie back into
Poughkeepsie.

I do not wish to say that we cannot learn some lessons from
Fantasy, but I would argue that Fantasy is not designed to teach us
anything. If someone uses a fantasy game or novel as a soap box or a
pulpit, that person has perverted Fantasy and has turned a form of
art into a form of propaganda or pornography.
Fantasy will not tolerate teaching or preaching. Nor will Faerie
accept the imposition of moral concerns from “real life.” Nevertheless, there is an inherent morality to Fantasy. It is not a morality of
law, but a morality of being.

The assumption underlying all Fantasy is that a character is going
to become a hero or a heroine. The potential hero begins as a normal
person, unprepared to do the work that he must do, unworthy of the
dignity which properly will be his at the completion of his task. In
order to do his work and face the final terror, the hero must grow—in
strength, courage, dignity and wisdom. In short, he must experience
an inner transformation.

There is a mythic structure which embodies this transformation.
It is summarized here from Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a
Thousand Faces: “The mythological hero, setting forth from his
commonday hut or castle, is lured, carried away, or else voluntarily
proceeds to the threshold of adventure. There he encounters a
shadowy presence which guards the passage. The hero may defeat
or conciliate this power and go alive into the kingdom of the dark
(brother-battle, dragon-battle; offering, charm), or be slain by the
opponent and descend in death (dismemberment, crucifixion). Beyond the threshold, then, the hero journeys through a world of unfamiliar yet strangely intimate forces, some of which severely threaten him (tests), some of which give magical aid (helpers).

If someone uses a fantasy game or
novel as a soap box or a pulpit, that
person has. . . turned a form of art into
a form of propaganda or pornography.

“When he arrives at the nadir of the mythological round, he
undergoes a supreme ordeal and gains his reward. The triumph may
be represented as the hero's sexual union with the goddess-mother
of the world (sacred mother), his recognition by the father-creator
(father atonement), his own divinization (apotheosis), or again—if
the powers have remained unfriendly to him-his theft of the boon
he came to gain (bride-theft, fire-theft); intrinsically it is an expansion
of consciousness and therewith of being (illumination, transfiguration, freedom). The final work is that of return. If the powers have
blessed the hero, he now sets forth under their protection (emissary);
if not, he flees and is pursued (transformation flight, obstacle flight).
At the return threshold the transcendental powers must remain
behind; the hero re-emerges from the kingdom of dread (return,
resurrection). The boon he brings restores the world (elixir).”

I believe this pattern is one of the essential forms of Fantasy and
that it contains within it an inherent morality.
 

Beyond this inner dynamic, the task set for the hero is his alone. It
is a work only he can do for the benefit of the world. If he fails, the
world will die or be enslaved. The character will become a hero by
accepting the role fate has set for him and by fulfilling the task he
must perform. The hero, then, has a significant part to play in the
World History of Faerie.
 

Whatever contributes to the hero’s growth toward nobility is
good; whatever contributes to his regression is evil. If he does
something which imperils his mission (thereby putting his world in
peril), he is foolish—perhaps criminally foolish. If he acts in a way
which promotes his mission he acts wisely.
 

From this, we can conclude that without a world within which to
work and for which to work, there would be no morality in Fantasy. If
we play out dungeon adventures which have no vital connection to a
world hanging in the balance, if a player cannot find a place for
himself in the whole epic of history, then there is no imperative to do
anything and there is no reason to refrain from doing anything.
Everything is then truly relative.

Game objectives, as they now exist in AD&D and even C&S,
only permit a character to grow in power. As long as games define
significant activity solely in terms of the acquisition of power, we will
<h&e> no morality. If games begin to allow experience points or
something like them for growth indignity or nobility, then we will
begin to move toward the morality inherent in Fantasy.

When that begins to happen, we will be able to ask questions.
What does it mean to be a noble Warrior/Mage/Cleric/Thief/Paladin, etc.? What kind of behavior is appropriate for my character?
What are my Paladin’s deep wishes? For what does he seek and
yearn? What really satisfies him or fulfills him? Given his role in the
world, how might he act his best? When we answer these questions
for ourselves, we will begin to formulate a morality.

As a player will need to continually ask if certain actions are
worthy of his character, so a DM will have to ask if certain situations
are weighty enough to claim a place in Faerie. Gratuitous sex and pot
smoking seem to fail that test. That is, they fail unless they are being
used by a villain to lure some potential hero from his quest into
dismal failure.

Mr. DiTillio’s “scarlet hued room” seemed pointless—good for
some kicks but ultimately signifying nothing. The “pseudo-high” he
provided was dangerous because it meant that a character had
surrendered his alertness, preparedness and awareness while in the
Perilous Realm. A three-turn inability to fight is hardly a serious
penalty for abandoning three virtues every hero must possess. Perhaps a combat penalty plus forbidding the acquisition of any experience points for 24 hours would have been more in keeping with the impact that getting stoned actually would have in Faerie. If you want significant/meaningful play, you have got to fashion a significant/
meaningful world.

Finally, Mr. DiTillio calls upon older players to teach younger
players, and thereby improve play. I do not share his faith. I am not
overly impressed by the morality, holiness or sacrificial love embodied by my life or those of my contemporaries. But I do believe
that as we struggle to discover the reality of Faerie and the proper
forms of Fantasy, as we design game mechanics which are true to
those realities, we will discover our souls, we will make ethical
decisions . . . we will be transformed.