At the close of the classic fantasy novel
The Worm Ouroboros, when the "Demons
" (actually human and good-aligned,
despite their name) have destroyed all the
bad guys, they find themselves stricken
with boredom. As a remedy, their gods
bring all the villains back to life so that the
heroes will have someone to fight. The
author, however, gives no hint of how the
common people of Demonland felt about
this, I cannot imagine that they would be
thrilled, especially since no offer was
made for resurrection of the rank-and-file
casualties on the side of good.

Many heroic fantasies display similar
disregard for the welfare and feelings of
the story-world's civilian population, and
so do many fantasy campaigns. Even players
trying in earnest to portray goodaligned
characters may fail to extend their
charity beyond the circle of other adventuring
characters. The cleric cures every
disease of members of his party, but never
inquires whether the local village has any
gravely ill children. A character owning a
spade of colossal excavation uses it for
military engineering purposes and unearthing
buried treasure, but never digs a
well or an irrigation ditch.

The common folk, of course, will never
complain about this unless the DM wants
them to, but if the DM knows enough realworld
history, he knows that a large number
of disgruntled peasants can create not
only a one-time riot, but a lasting political
force. Numbers, determination, and
stealth can offset to some extent a lack of.
the conventional means to wage war or
exert social pressure.

Below are offered some examples of 
political movements that could arise 
among the 0-level masses in a D&D or 
AD&D game campaign.  I have not included 
explicitly religious movements, as 
these would normally have clerics to lead 
them.  These examples could be initiated 
and maintained entirely by non-adventuring 
NPCs, their weapons including 
work stoppages, theft, and arson.  Only 
if the real or alleged grievance is extreme 
or the opposition formidable should the 
DM allow the malcontents the aid of anyone 
with special powers; even then, it 
should be someone outside the establishment 
of adventuring characters.  (One 
faction member, for instnace, could be a 
woodcutter who survived being bitten by 
a wereboar, lived to master his own ensuing 
lycanthropy, and Now is available to 
fight for the cause in beast-form, his loyalty 
preserved by family ties.) 

These rebel movements will sometimes 
be in the right, sometimes not.  Either way, 
they should provide an interesting wild 
card amid the usual struggles of dynasties, 
aristocracies, and mighty spellcasters. 

The Share-The-Health Movement
Some adventurers (especially in Monty 
Haul campaigns) enjoy such easy access to 
cure spells that they never have to experience 
a normal recuperation from wounds 
or disease.  This privilege may even extend 
to a dozen successive resurrections or 
regenerations for a single frequently slain 
character.  Since rank does have its priveleges, 
commoners in a campaign may not 
resent the hero's favored treatment by 
clerics -- particularly if any of his injuries, 
ailments, or deaths were incurred in the 
defense of the community.  If, however, the 
adventurer always got hurt or killed while 
pursuing selfish gain, many noncombatants 
would come to think him unworthy 
of repeated attention, when constructive 
members of the community are left to take 
their chances with wounds and sickness. 

A Share-the-Health Movement would 
begin with peaceful petitioning of the local 
clerics to adopt an egalitarian policy in the 
use of such spells as cure disease, raise dead, etc. 
At weekly intervals (more ofen 
if healing resources were plentiful in the 
area), there could be a random drawing of 
names of the ailing and the freshly deceased.  
A committee could also be formed 
to judge which persons were worthy of 
supernatural help, with at least one member 
of the Share-the-Health Movement 
sitting on the committee.

If no such reform were instituted (or if it 
was in use but deteriorated through bribery 
or favoritism), the protestors could try 
many forms of retaliation.  They might 
kidnap the uncooperative clerics, if possible.  
Failing that, they might refuse to 
worship at these clerics' temples.  The too-often 
cured adventurers could suffer 
social ostracism (if of low enough birth to 
be affected by this) or even mob assault.  
The best of all solutions, though, would be 
for members of the movement to become 
clerics themselves, their training paid for 
by hundreds of donors in return for their 
oath to minister to the common people's 
needs without profiteering.  

The Mines For Men Society 
Any number of ethnic-resentment situations 
from real-world history can be reflected 
in this scenario.  The premise here 
is that, somewhere in the game world, 
there is an area whose economy depends 
on mining.  All the local residents are human, 
but for some reason the mine owners 
decide to hire dwarves from the 
nearest dwarf kingdom to work the mines. 

The reaction of the furious human miners 
would be nothing startingly unusual 
-- a thousand real-world labor crises could 
provide models -- but the ripple effects of 
a Mines For Men Society, in a fantasy 
world, should be quite interesting.  Suppose, 
for instance, that the protestors are 
so ignorant of non-human races that they 
attack some gnomes in the belief that they 
are dwarves, causing gnomes and dwarves 
to unite in self-defense.  There might also 
be evildoers who add to the fray and 
confusion by murdering some dwarves, 
intending to have the blame fall on the 
Mines For Men Society. 


The Plain Sight Patrol
Players may find it amusing to imagine 
their charcaters using invisibility to spy on 
ladies in their bedrooms -- but the fathers 
and husbands of the women, to say nothing 
of the women themselves, could be 
pardoned for considering this behavior 
offensive.  A movement against the abuse 
of invisibility, unlike the previsou 2 
examples, could easily gain the support of 
persons from the middle and upper social 
classes. 

By the very nature of the problem, a 
Plain Sight Patrol would know the difficulty 
of identifying and prosecuting the 
offenders; it would consequently concentrate 
on defensive and deterrent measures 
(though some of these could lead to identification 
of an overconfident invisible 
PROWLER).  Homes and other places guarded 
by the Patrol would be surrounded by 
scatterings of sand or sawdust, over which 
no one could walk without leaving conspicuous 
footprints.  Sentry dogs wuld be 
trained to give an alarm whenever they 
smelled a body scent from a place where 
they could not see anyone.  Huma Patrol 
members would practice hurling paint and 
other liquids that would stick to an offender 
and render him visible. 

The Supernatural Sanitation League
To the best of my knowledge, no one has 
speculated on the possibly unusual excretory 
functions of fantasy creatures.  This 
distasteful subject is easy for players to 
avoid, but characters within the game 
world will surely be affected by it, especially 
in a campaign where adventurers 
frequently tame or subdue monsters. 

If some high-level lord rides into town
on the back of his pet copper dragon, will
his acid-breathing steed leave behind
corrosive droppings that eat foot-deep
holes into the pavement? Or, if he has a
rust monster on a leash, even if it is kept
from eating the townsfolk's metal tools,
will the rust monster's droppings destroy
the shovel of a street-sweeper who cleans
up after it? Could it be that blink dogs, as
an instinctive defense against being
tracked, can make their body wastes materialize
some distance away? (If so, a tame
blink dog walking down the street might
cause a sudden mess inside a nearby
house.)

A popular movement calling for the end
of such monstrous contamination is very
plausible in any city where captive monsters
use public thoroughfares. Even if
such special problems as suggested above
are ruled out, there would still be unrest
-- if the monsters are allowed to fly over
the city!

The Dumb Animals Controversy
Here is a case not of one united plebeian
group revolting against the adventuring
aristocracy, but of the plebeians being
divided among themselves over whether
they approve of one type of adventurers--
activity: speaking with animals. Common
people could find many reasons to react
either way to having their domestic animals
or nearby wild ones communicated
with.

In C.S. Lewis's novel The Magician’s
Nephew, when a cab-horse is given the
power of speech, his owner is fascinated
but also has to deal with the horse's complaints
about being made to work. It could
easily be unsettling to receive back-talk
from animals we use for our own benefit.
Yet the knowledge that could be gained
from communication with beasts would,
for some, outweigh the uncomfortable
psychological effects.

A community debate over letting adventurers
converse with local animals would
be enlivened if some of the animals themselves
could give their views on the matter.
(Of course, whoever used a speak with
animals spell or spell-like ability to bring
out these testimonies might be accused by
some humans of passing on a false translation.)
If nothing else came of the controversy,
it would probably produce more 
vegetarians, or at least abstainers from the 
flesh of the more intelligent beasts.  

The Magic Materials Moratorium
Campaigns vary in the emphasis they
place on material components for spellcasting,
but in any campaign that does
enforce the need for such components,
magic-users and illusionists who lord it
over the populace have a weak spot just
waiting to be exploited. If the commoners
learn about some of the objects needed for
spell-casting (disregarding items too rare
for peasants to possess or locate), a concerted
effort could be made to steal,
hoard, or destroy all such items, making
some spells almost impossible to cast.

Naturally, this effort has the most
chance of succeeding if the tyrannical
spell-casters can be kept unaware of it for
a long time. That may sound hopeless ?
but consider how often great wizards hold
zero-level NPCs in contempt, assuming
that the latter are too stupid even to know
what materials are needed for spells.
Although it would never be possible to
shut off the supply of all spell materials, a
determined and secret conspiracy, given
time, could end up surprising the spellcasters
with enough of a components
embargo to cause serious difficulty in
magic-use.

The mages and illusionists might still
have enough intact resources to try breaking
the embargo by force, but a divideand-
conquer effect could occur which
would help the dissidents. That is, one or
more spell-casters might decide to make
allies of the material snatchers instead of
attacking them. The spell-caster who
thought of this quickly enough could secure
a near-total monopoly on some spell
components, and thus an advantage over
rival spell-casters who hadn't seen the
value of befriending the peasants.

The Hobbits' Hygiene Backlash
Grass-roots unrest does not always arise
because of cruelty or callousness from the
powerful. It can also be set off by authorities
whose actions are entirely benevolent
in motive, but who are seen as unreasonable
meddlers. One setting in which this
unfortunate phenomenon could occur
would be a community in which halflings
coexisted with humans, the rulers belonging
to the human race.

I have never seen a pronouncement on
whether halflings in a game world are
susceptible to ringworm infestation and
other health problems associated with
bare feet. Whether or not they are, human
authorities would very likely assume
them to be so. With the kindest of intentions,
then, these authorities would attempt,
by law or at least by persuasion, to
make the halflings wear shoes.

The halflings, of course, would resent
this. Since resentment easily bursts the
barriers of rationality, they might attribute
the most outlandishly wicked motives to
the well-meaning rulers. Halflings with
any degree of thieving ability would see it
as poetic justice to go about stealing as
many shoes as possible from humans,
making them go barefoot. There might
even be a campaign of vandalism against
cobblers' shops (for businessmen always
make convenient scapegoats, and the
angry halflings might suspect the shoemakers
of instigating the shoerequirement
policy for obvious reasons).

As in the case of the Mines For Men
Society, this would be an ideal opportunity
for malicious interference by beings hostile
to both of the races principally concerned.

The Spirit of Lysistrata
Whether or not a campaign has any ties
to the Greek mythos, it could easily accommodate
a re-enactment of the Greek legend
of Lysistrata, the woman who led a
women's revolt to stop a war between
rival city-states. The women refused to
have anything to do with their men until
all fighting stopped. A similar peace movement
in a fantasy world might be encouraged
by female beings such as sylphs and
dryads.

The result of a women's love-embargo
would depend on the moral alignment of
the nations whose conflict the women
were protesting. If both nations were
good-aligned, fighting over a mere misunderstanding,
there would be a good
chance of peace being achieved. If both
sides were evil-aligned, they would simply
force their women into submission ? or, if
the women had the means to prevent this,
the fighters would ignore them and continue
their war to a finish, reckoning that
the winning side could help itself to the
women from the losing side. If it were a
good nation fighting an evil nation, their
differing responses to the women's protest
would result in an automatic, and possibly
decisive, advantage for the evil nation. If
the good nation managed to win anyway,
there might follow a voluntary mass exodus
of women from the evil country to the
good one, and the women who had tried
to browbeat the heroes into surrendering
could find themselves out in the cold.

The Youth For All Movement
If, in the real world, people find it easier
to allege an evil conspiracy than to accept
unwelcome facts of life, all the easier to do
so in a D&D world -- where so many
things are caused by evil conspiracies!

One of the least welcome facts of life is
aging. A human community having periodic
contact with such long-lived races as
elves could scarcely help feeling envious.
To envy, add the ignorance of the peasantry,
and you can get a lot of people
convincing themselves that the other
race's longevity is an artificial accomplishment
that could be shared with humanity
if the other race were willing. Better-
educated humans trying to correct this
error would be shouted down, accused of
"selling out." If even one person in the
vicinity were known to possess a potion of
longevity, this would be viewed as the final
proof that all superhuman lifespans were
artificially produced.

The tactics of a Youth For All Movement
might amount to no more than ordinary
protesting and demonstrating, trying to
shame or intimidate the elves or other
long-lived beings into giving up the supposed
secret of extended youth. A sufficient
degree of delusion, though, could
produce truly bizarre actions, e.g., someone
with no real magical training experimenting
to create his own youth potion.
This would take a sinister turn if the selfstyled
alchemist got the idea that the blood
of an elf was the missing ingredient for his
formula. . . .