So Impenetrable to Human Thought, So Pitiless to Human Weakness

Back when I had a go at the Judges Guild Tunnels & Trolls solo The Toughest Dungeon in the World, I said that JG's T&T output 'at least initially' had the approval of Flying Buffalo, the company behind Tunnels & Trolls. Something appears to have changed by the time Judges Guild brought out their second T&T solo, Glenn Rahman's Jungle of Lost Souls, as the word 'Approved' on my copy has been covered with a label reading 'Suitable', and (in smaller print) 'Use of trademark not sanctioned by holder'.

Cursory research has turned up no information on what happened, but it's possible that FB may have had an issue with Jungle specifically rather than Judges Guild's publication of T&T material in general. The list of JG products inside the back cover still advertises Toughest Dungeon and the multiplayer dungeon Rat on a Stick as 'Approved for use with Tunnels & Trolls', but Jungle has been crossed out in blue pen.

Still, this blog is about playing the adventures and occasionally reminiscing about how I got them or what happened when I played them before, so I shan't speculate further. As regards my history with Jungle, I have very little to say. I got my copy on eBay, possibly along with some other titles, and I've not yet had a proper go at it.

Well, time to roll up a new character. The adventure introduces some new attributes, which I'll list after the usual stats. And I get:
Strength 10
Intelligence 8
Luck 15
Constitution 10
Dexterity 14
Charisma 13
Speed 8
Stealth 14
Willpower 10
Jungle Lore 5 (which is actually pretty good, as it's based on the roll of a single die)
The rules indicate that upon joining an expedition I will be issued with a machete, a short sword, and a suit of leather armour (and in this climate wearing heavier armour is not an option), so I limit expenditure on equipment to clothing, decent footwear, and a compass.

I start in a stockade a short distance to the north of a jungle in this world's equivalent of Africa (or possibly Wales, given that the local name for the jungle is Yspadden Wydyr). Two separate parties are preparing to embark on expeditions into the jungle, and while Jungle does have one of the 'refuse the call' options that are so inexplicably popular with some gamebook authors, I shall treat the opportunity to opt out with the contempt it deserves, which leaves me to choose between the explorers who are trekking in on foot and the ones who are taking a raft up river.

River, I think. Assorted die rolls establish that the party consists of a wizard, three warriors, and three Taweii (indigenous inhabitants) who didn't get to choose whether or not to go on the expedition. I don't approve of slavery, but both possible expeditions have a similar make-up, so the only way to avoid working with people who support the trade would be not to play the adventure, and if I were to avoid all gamebooks in which my character might interact with anything ethically questionable, there'd hardly be any I could play.

We set off down river, and randomness determines what happens next. In this instance, an unexpected whirlpool unbalances the raft, causing one member of the party to fall into the water, which is inhabited by flesh-eating mochdrev fish. The text gives no indication of who goes overboard, so I'll use an 8-sided die to choose: on a 1, it'll be the leader, on 2-4 one of the warriors, on 5-7 a slave, and an 8 means me.

It's a warrior. Using the table at the back of the adventure for determining companions' stats, I find that the warrior in question (whom I will henceforth refer to as Dunc) has a high Luck, which is good, as that's the score that will determine whether or not he gets rescued before being eaten alive. A few of us join forces to help him (the text says only that he gets a bonus to his roll for each party member attempting to assist him, but realistically, having all seven of us on the same edge of the raft is just asking for trouble, and between his Luck and the way the rules always allow for the possibility of failure, I don't think adding helpers makes any real difference), and the number rolled is more than good enough to enable him to get back onto the raft in good health. I gain a small experience bonus for participating in the rescue.

After that incident we must decide whether to carry on or turn back. As adventures go, 'one of us got wet' is pretty unimpressive, so I think we'll keep going. And this time the roll of the die determines that the river becomes unnavigable, forcing us to abandon the raft. Again we have the option of turning back, but it still seems too early for that, so we continue on foot.

Again what we encounter is down the whim of the die. Now it's a booby trap set by the natives, and another roll of the d8 clarifies that a different warrior (let's call this one Brad) falls into a spiked pit. Since he has his own stats, it seems fair to give him the same roll against Dexterity that I'd have had to make if I were the unfortunate party member - and he is badly injured but not killed by a bamboo stake. We extricate him and everybody gains a little experience.

The leader of the expedition (who probably merits a full name, so I dub him Edgar Ghaspipe) casts a healing spell on Brad, bringing him back to about half his full health, and we resume our trek. The next roll of the die has us discovering human footprints, but nothing to indicate whether the people who left them are benign or hostile. That's probably randomly determined as well - let's find out.

A little further along the trail we encounter a group of Taweii, and choose not to attack on sight. A roll against either Luck or Jungle Lore determines their reaction, and while I go with Luck as that's the higher stat, I roll well enough that I'd have succeeded either way. Even so, we're not out of the woods yet (nor the jungle, for that matter), as the outcome of our interaction depends on a Charisma roll. I can gain a bonus by offering a bribe, but I only have enough funds to potentially improve my chances from extremely low to highly unlikely. I don't think it's worth it... and with what I rolled, I'd have failed even if I'd have handed over the GDP of the entire planet. Still, while we gain nothing (beyond a little experience) from the encounter, we don't lose anything either.

Once more we must decide whether to continue exploring or turn back, and 'continue' includes the option of building a raft and trying to find a river to use it on. Taking the time to construct a raft would also allow Edgar to regain some of his spellcasting power and Brad to heal a bit more, but at the same time it would increase the risk of a random hostile encounter. Let's chance it... Nothing nasty attacks, but another lousy roll means there's no nearby river suitable for travelling on, so the raft we built is of no use. We've still not achieved anything noteworthy, so let's keep going on land.

Well, that was a poor decision. Disease-bearing insects infest the area, and I contract something fatal. Edgar and Brad also die, but Dunc and the other warrior survive, as do two of the slaves. Maybe the remnants of the party go on to discover a vast treasure hoard and return to civilisation with it, both Taweii gain their freedom, and Dunc becomes a renowned adventurer and saves the world a few times, but my part in the expedition is definitely over.

Open Doors Would Soon Be Shut

It's about time I went on with my probably-doomed-but-can-still-be-informative attempt at Sir Ian Livingstone's The Port of Peril. So I'm on my way to the Moonstone Hills, hoping that the map I obtained in Chalice will enable me to find some treasure and turn around my fortunes.

As I trek on, I catch sight of some birds circling above a building. I can think of a couple of earlier books by Mr. Livingstone in which circling birds were a sign of nothing good, but I also know that he does like to throw the occasional curve ball (like the way he clearly has a preferred direction at left/right junctions, but often makes it advisable or essential to go the other way at some point), so I'll investigate in case this time the birds are drawing my attention to something useful or essential rather than potential trouble or death.

The building is a simple cabin, and the birds would appear to be interested in the blueberry bushes planted in front of it, yet not helping themselves to the fruit for fear of the scarecrow in the midst of the bushes. Would I be right in thinking that the scarecrow is neither inanimate nor as good-natured as Worzel Gummidge? There's only one way to find out...

Well, I was half right. The scarecrow turns out to be a live human, held captive and used to deter birds by the inhabitants of the cabin. As I draw near, the door bursts open and a trio of Blue Imps charges towards me, brandishing oversized cutlery (and I'm not talking tablespoons). I have the option of trying to flee, but the Imps don't seem like a serious threat, and rescuing their prisoner seems like a worthy cause.

They were in the bottom tier of opponents in the Deathtrap Dungeon computer game.

For no good reason the Imps attack one at a time, and I manage to kill them all without taking any damage. When I untie their unwilling scarecrow, he explains that they captured him while he was camping in the area, and threatened to eat him if he didn't keep the birds away from the bushes. They were cultivating the berries in order to make dye for their skins rather than for food, but the man I freed proves that the fruit is edible by devouring several handfuls, and I also eat some to restore a little of the Stamina I lost fighting Man-Orcs.

When I explain my quest, the man advises me to build a fire to deter nocturnal predators, and gives me some stikkle wax to use as a remedy for Gronk bites, before setting off home. I opt to check the cabin for potentially useful bric-â-brac, helping myself to an Imp's knife along the way. Inside the cabin I find some Imp-sized furniture, a simmering cauldron of dye, and a shelf cluttered with jars. There are seven jars, and I can take just three of them because whatever. No idea what could be useful, beyond the fact that I was not able to remain spoiler-free regarding the identity of this book's villain, and one of the jars contains one of the substances that were needed to help defeat him the last time he was a gamebook antagonist. I take that one and more or less arbitrarily also select Noop Powder and Fireroot Juice.

Continuing on my way, I don't reach the hills until dusk (though if I hadn't detoured to the Imps' hut, I'd have arrived no sooner - section number recognition is not a skill I can turn off).  Before settling down for the night I gather up some fallen branches to bodge together a bivouac, and rummage through my backpack for some scraps of food (despite still having the cobs of corn I picked earlier in the day and the Provisions that the rules said were part of my starting inventory). It's a warm night, but I remember the ex-scarecrow's advice, and build a fire anyway. Consequently, while I hear animals in the vicinity a couple of times during the night, nothing attempts to prey on me or press-gang me into becoming a weathervane or a paperweight.

In the morning I press on towards the crag indicated on the map. Along the way I notice a cave mouth leading into another hill and, aware that not exploring the cave is just as likely to prove lethal as exploring it, I take a closer look. Almost immediately I am attacked by a Plague Witch, and while her stats are negligible, she only needs to win one round of combat to infect me, with game-ending consequences. The dice continue to favour me (though I did draw one round, so if I hadn't restored the Skill point I temporarily lost, that would have been it for this post, bar some kind of pithy summing-up paragraph).

The only item of potential interest in the cave is a clay pot with a cracked lid. It could contain something essential, or its contents might be harmful - with Ian Livingstone and pots, you never can tell unless you check. And it holds 5 gold pieces and a lock of hair, presumably from the head of the hag I just slew. Well, that could come in very handy, unless Ian is playing an elaborate prank on readers of his earlier books.

Continuing through the hills, I unavoidably stumble and hurt my arm, taking negligible damage. After a while I reach a gully with a stream running through it, and pause to top up my drinking water. A boulder rolls downhill towards me, but I manage to dodge it. For a moment I think it might be a Boulder Beast, as the author does like including them in gamebooks, but no, it seems to be just a regular boulder, rolled at my by a couple of Wild Hill Men (also quite popular in his works, but I've already linked the relevant books once in this post).

Annoyed at having failed to kill me, the Wild Hill Men try firing arrows instead, but I take cover behind the boulder. One of them flings everything remotely throwable in the vicinity my way (including his bow and shoulderbag), and once they're out of potential missiles, the two give up trying to harm me and wander off. I help myself to the bow and arrows, and find that the bag contains a gold coin, some salt, and a box of fish hooks. What is it with Ian Livingstone and fish hooks nowadays? One of his other 21st-century gamebooks included what seemed like dozens of opportunities to acquire them, and if there's any point in that book at which they become useful, I never found it.

I also take a drink from the stream, regaining the Stamina I lost when I fell over, before resuming my travels and finally reaching my destination, a hill shaped something like a massive skull, not unsurprisingly named Skull Crag. Openings in the hill roughly correspond to eye sockets and mouth, and I risk going into the one at ground level. My lantern reveals charcoal drawings of monsters on the walls, and at the back of the cave is a tunnel entrance leading to a junction. Time to see if Sit Ian's favourite direction remains unchanged...

Apparently it has changed. Or he's picked up Steve Jackson's trick of giving the reader a choice between death and death, and I should have avoided Mouth Cave altogether. Either way, a stone slab descends behind me, trapping me in the depths of the crag to starve to death.

Well, after a pretty poor start, that book was okayish. Not up there with Mr Livingstone's finest, but an improvement on at least the previous two FF books he penned. I am a little less pessimistic than I was about the news that he has another Deathtrap Dungeon sequel coming out later this year.

Lives of War and Blood and Fury and Hate

After Blood of the Zombies failed to inject new life into Wizard Books' second range of Fighting Fantasy gamebooks, there was no new 'official' FF published for around five years. Then Scholastic started publishing the series, and after reissuing several books that had already been republished twice, they brought out a brand new adventure, Ian Livingstone's The Port of Peril.

Port was the first Scholastic FF book I bought, since I already had more than one copy of the books that preceded it. The cover illustration of the Scholastic The Citadel of Chaos did tempt me a little, but when I came across a copy in the local WHSmith and saw how appalling the internal artwork was, I decided it really wasn't worth it. A new book was a different matter, even if it was by Ian Livingstone, whose last two additions to the canon had proved disappointing, so I ordered a copy online.

Once it arrived, I took a brief look at it, but the opening of the adventure failed to grab me with its mixture of rule-contradicting instructions and haggling over uninteresting tat. The book went on the shelf, and I did little or nothing with it until it came up in 2022's 'play all the FF books' challenge at the Fantazine forum. So I finally had a proper go at it, and started to engage with some actual plot, but then my character got bitten by a Zombie and infected with something terminal, and the plot hadn't engaged my interest enough to make me want another go. Eventually last year's similar challenge reached Port, and I had another go at the book, finding the early stages a bit more bearable thanks to the snarky observations I'd made when summarising paragraphs in my gamebook manager. While I did get a little further on my second attempt, poor communication between author and reader resulted in my character's being trapped in a cellar to starve.

I haven't had another go at the book since then, so this will be my third try.

My character is a down-on-his-luck adventurer, unsuccessfully seeking employment in the town of Chalice, and reduced to scavenging for scraps of food. Towards the end of one miserable day, I overhear a conversation between two men on their way out of a tavern, who helpfully address each other by name: Gregor has bought a treasure map from an impoverished old man, but Eryk believes him to have been conned, and convinces him to discard it. As they wend their unsteady way to a different tavern, I help myself to the map, hoping that it is genuine and will provide a means for me to drastically improve my circumstances. But it's a bit late to embark on a new adventure right now, so I find somewhere I can sleep rough in comparative safety and settle down for the night.

I think it's time to roll up my stats. My previous attempts at the book have made me aware that my Luck is liable to come in for quite a bit of Testing early on, and I am well aware of Sir Ian's tendency to throw opponents with high Skill scores at the players, so I think allocating dice might be prudent. This gives me
Skill 11
Stamina 16
Luck 9
That Luck is slightly iffy, but the rules say I start with the standard 10 Provisions and potion (apparently I'm the kind of near-starving hero who carries around more than a week's supply of food and a magical restorative), so if I take the Potion of Fortune I can improve my chances a little more.

Woken at dawn by inconsiderate cockerels, I go rummaging through the oddments discarded by market traders and bodge together a tomato sandwich, which allows me to gain a point of Stamina. Or would if I didn't start the adventure at full Stamina, the rules not permitting me to exceed my Initial score without explicit permission, but I guess that, having (erroneously) concluded that nobody ever plays these books by the rules, the author can't be bothered to follow them either.

I then carry out a quick inventory check, which reveals me to be carrying almost a dozen items in addition to the standard adventuring set-up. The list doesn't include the map on which this adventure hinges, but who can be bothered to remember trivia like that when there are nails and twine to be keeping track of?

Anyway, having determined the precise nature of the clutter I'm carrying, I can get started on my adventure. By which I mean 'chat with the man who's sweeping the road'. He is, at least initially, not in a talkative mood, so to get him to open up I have to offer to trade one of my belongings for something else to eat. I think this might have been the last straw that prompted me to quit reading the book back when I first got it: having started out by getting an unusable boost to my Stamina, I now have to pay for another one in order to unlock what could be an essential interaction. Right now I don't know what will prove indispensable in Port, but acquiring the right odds and ends has been key to success in every previous gamebook by Mr. Livingstone, and it would be just like him to make this rather tiresome encounter the only way to acquire something without which I will later be doomed.

With deep anger and resentment I hand over those nails in return for the ingredients of another unnecessary sandwich. The sweeper then offers me some snake oil, which will apparently protect me from snake bites, if I can give him some twine in return, and following the conclusion of that deal, reveals that he needs a bird-shaped ornament for his wife's imminent Birthday, and is willing to let me have some foul-smelling skunk oil if I can provide him with one. I do happen to be lugging around a brass owl, so I hand it over, wondering if the sweeper got tricked into buying the skunk oil by a dodgy perfume salesman and was at least astute enough to check the contents of the bottle before he could make the mistake of presenting it to his spouse.

By now the market traders have opened up and a crowd is forming, so I hang around, wondering if there's someone here who desperately needs skunk oil and happens to be carrying a useless-to-them key with a number engraved on it. Seemingly not, but I do catch sight of a cutpurse helping herself to a pouch from someone's backpack. I confront her, and she loudly accuses me of trying to rob her. Initially the crowd takes her side, but then the old man from whom she stole confronts her, and the tide of public opinion turns in my favour. Another man (possibly a purveyor of fruit and vegetables who's just discovered that some of his wares have spoiled) orders that she be put in the stocks, and encourages the mob to pelt her with rotten tomatoes.

The old man thanks me for intervening, and reveals that the thief almost got away with a month's earnings. I ask him what his trade is, and he tells me he makes lucky charms. As a reward for my assistance, and for showing some interest in his business, he gives me a little money and an example of his handiwork.

Continuing to look around the market (and being told by the book that I am penniless even though I literally just received some coins), I encounter a card sharp who offers to wager 5 gold pieces against my sword. And this looks like the point at which a wise player will conclude that they've probably got everything they need from this stage of the adventure, and move along before the penalties start getting applied.

The section to which I now turn is the same one as for not talking with the sweeper, so if I hadn't exchanged my nails for that superfluous sandwich, I'd have missed the whole encounter with the thief and the lucky charm manufacturer. There are three possible exits from the market square, and I choose Beggar's Alley.

Unsurprisingly, it's full of people who are even worse off than I am. I hand over some of my recently-acquired coins to the closest beggars, and learn that one of them used to be a jeweller in Port Blacksand. I now have the option of asking him about Gurnard Jaggle... Who? Rechecking the map, I see that the accompanying instructions are signed 'Murgat Shurr', which doesn't help. Have I come this way too soon and missed out on a clue, or is this like the time Ian Livingstone required his readers to ask for a very specific item that had never been mentioned before in the book?

A quick look at the FF wiki's list of errors for this book reveals that 'more likely than not' I won't have heard that name before, implying that there is a path to here on which I would have heard it, so I think I need to pass up the conversational gambit this time,and hope I don't miss out on anything too vital.

Continuing down the alley, I see a barrel in front of a door. Remembering the author's previously displayed tendency to have barrels contain nothing but trouble, I ignore this one, and try knocking on the door. Which leads to my being mistaken for a door-to-door salesman and clobbered with a chair leg.

I got off lightly compared to these salesmen.

Hastily moving on, I reach Lion Street, which is clearly a more prosperous part of town. On one side of the road, a gargoyle-topped wall limits access to a large mansion, while the other side is lined with shops and houses. I think I'm least likely to come to further harm checking out a shop.

The only shop of potential interest that's open is a locksmith's. There I am offered a bunch of random keys for a price that makes me regret not having chosen a path that would net me more money than I've acquired. Looks like I've just failed this book, however long it might take me to actually reach a bad ending.

I still have the option of trying to climb that wall, or I can just leave town. Given the likelihood that my not being able to afford those keys has already doomed me, I figure that I might as well check if the gargoyles are as animated and lethal as I expect them to be. In the unlikely event that their presence is just a bluff, I could discover something worth knowing about for future attempts at the book.

The wall is too high and smooth to climb. Catching sight of a couple of off-duty bakers trudging home, I decide to risk their summoning representatives of local law enforcement, and ask for their assistance. They are amused rather than outraged, and one of them tells me that trespassers in Hog House aren't prosecuted, they're executed. Nevertheless, I persist in seeking help, and the bakers give me a bunk-up before going on their way.

While the gargoyles don't come to life and attack, a couple of guard dogs respond to my unauthorised presence. I could try jumping back down into the street, but I'm going to check and see if this side quest really is just the dead end it's made out to be. Leaping into the mansion's grounds, I land badly, taking Skill and Stamina damage, and the dogs attack one at a time for no logical reason. Despite my impairment, I kill both without taking further damage.

Proceeding to the mansion's front door, I get to choose between ringing the doorbell or trying to open the door. It's a bit late to try and avoid attracting attention, but I make a half-hearted attempt at getting into the house anyway, and find that I cannot open the door. All right, then: time to see if the residents were in urgent need of the services of an itinerant dog-slayer.

I hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a bolt being undone, and a bald-headed butler in mostly traditional garb (but red socks) opens the door and indicates that he wants to know why I'm here. While I could say I'm an out-of-work adventurer seeking employment as a guard, I also have the option of claiming I've been sent to collect a letter. Given that this book was written by a man who once made ringing a random handbell at an undead monstrosity the best course of action, randomly endeavouring to intercept a complete stranger's mail is way too specific an action to pass up.

The butler indicates that deliveries to and from the house are only made by Striders, on Lady Francesca de la Vette's orders, and as I don't resemble a Strider (I guess my arms are too short, thinking back to the primary distinguishing feature of the one Strider encountered in a previous Ian Livingstone book), he threatens to summon the guards.

I could still try asking about a job as a guard, but Lady Francesca probably only employs Ocelot-Men or something similarly nothing-like-me as guards, so I'm going to conclude that if anything of value is to be gained from this whole interlude, it's her name (or possibly the fact that her staff wear red socks), and leave while I still can.

Heading towards the gates that lead out of the grounds, I see a couple of guards patrolling on top of the wall (species not mentioned, so maybe they are human after all), and avoid attracting their attention. There are another two on duty at the gates, but by using the 'I have a perfectly valid reason for being here' saunter, I get close enough to be able to make a bolt for freedom before they think to challenge me. One tries to give chase, but I take to the back streets and lose him before continuing towards the gates leading out of Chalice.

The road leads past a ruined church and its graveyard, and passes scattered dwellings before terminating at the edge of a cornfield. In the distance I see Darkwood Forest, but this is not (yet) an adventure that requires me to go there, so I head around the field in the direction of the 'X' marked on Murgat's map.

Before I've got very far, I hear galloping hooves and the sound of a hunting horn. Previously I've hidden from the approaching rider, but since I'm now using this ill-fated character to test the inadvisability of reckless-seeming choices, I think I'll wait and see who's coming.

The rider wears black robes, and gestures at me to get out of the way. He doesn't slow down at all, so I have to dive aside to avoid being hit, and an Unlucky roll leads to my losing four coins as I hit the ground. An impressive feat, given that I only had one on me, and there's not much point in rolling to determine the type of each dropped coin. Well, I guess I could argue that if the dice were to indicate that I only dropped gold pieces, I should be allowed to retain my lone copper, but this is ludicrous enough as it is.

Pilfering some corn from the field (an action I don't get to choose whether or not to take), I restore the Stamina I lost jumping from the wall, and stash a few cobs in my pack for later. Soon I leave the field behind, and as it's getting late, I start looking for somewhere to shelter. Not far away is a tumbledown cottage which has lost most of its roof. That's where both of my previous attempts at this book have ended, so I down my Potion of Fortune before taking a look inside.

Two Man-Orcs are already sheltering inside the ruin, and attack as soon as I enter. Despite my substantial Skill advantage, I take a couple of wounds in the course of the fight. Searching the bodies and the remains of the cottage, I find an assortment of what could be junk or might serve some useful purpose, including a selection of jars with unprepossessing contents. Still, I'd have to discard items if I wanted more than one jar, which suggests that they might not be completely useless, so I grab the one containing bones.

My search also turns up a trapdoor, partially concealed under an iron stove. I risk moving the stove and unbolting the trapdoor. A smell of decay emanates from below, and I hear dragging footsteps and what could be a death-rattle. Naturally I investigate, and I'm still descending the stairs when the lurking Zombie attempts to bite my ankle. On this occasion it doesn't succeed, and while the subsequent fight is another one in which I get injured by a woefully inferior opponent, the wound isn't game-ending.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see graffiti (written in blood) on a couple of the walls - the message 'help me' and an arrow indicating a crack. Then I hear footsteps from above, and now I know that 'stay where you are' means not 'attempt to avoid detection by the new arrival' but 'stand in plain sight of anyone who glances through the open trapdoor and gawp like a moron while they trap you down here', I charge up the steps while I still can.

A third Man-Orc has entered the building, and attacks me. It is no better a fighter than its late companions or the Zombie, so naturally I take another wound before killing it. This one's possessions include an iron trinket in the shape of a pig. Items shaped like animals are often dangerous or lethal in books by Ian Livingstone, but on occasion they can be essential acquisitions, so I'll risk adding this one to my inventory. Then I return to the cellar to check out the crack indicated by the blood arrow.

Stuffed into the crack is a piece of paper, on which is written a message from a miner whose co-workers trapped him in the cellar and abandoned him after he was bitten by a Zombie. In addition to apologising for any attacking he might have done while undead, the author reveals that he hid his belongings under the stairs, so I check and find a bag containing a copper bracelet. This could be a malicious prank played from beyond the grave, but if so, better to find out now than lose a character who had a shot at winning this book.

The bracelet makes me feel weak and numb, but then invigorates me, restoring the Skill I lost earlier and a little of the Stamina damage I've taken in this cottage. That Skill point could be taken as implying that checking out Hog House is indeed part of the optimal route through this book, but given the earlier examples of Stamina gain in defiance of the rules, I'm not convinced that Ian Livingstone put as much thought into it as I have just now.

Remember how I was looking for a place in which to shelter for the night when I came here? If not, don't worry: neither did the author, as the text now has me leave and resume my trek towards the Moonstone Hills.

Okay, my computer just froze, costing me a load of progress in the gamebook manager, and ran into difficulties when restarting because it was attempting to boot from a Monty Python's Flying Circus DVD, so I've had enough shenanigans for one day. I'll post what I've achieved so far, and get back to Port when I'm in a less irritable state.

Being Dead Is Not Exactly a Bowl of Cherries

It has now been confirmed that J.H. 'Herbie' Brennan, author of some of the quirkier gamebook series (plus a number of entertaining children's books and a multitude of guides to paranormal phenomena) passed on at the start of this year.

Back when I got rid of much of my gamebook collection during the early 1990s, there was no question of my disposing of any of the books authored by Mr. Brennan: I enjoyed Grail Quest and Horror Classics far too much. His short series of Barmy Jeffers novels provided one of the best twists I've encountered in children's literature, and in more recent years I was an avid reader of his Faerie Wars series: it saddens me that the plot threads he left open for further development will remain unresolved.

While often mechanically flawed, his gamebooks were among the best-written from a literary standpoint, and regularly achieved the harder-than-you-might-think feat of including humour that was actually funny. The title of this post is a quotation from one of his books, reflecting the jovial attitude towards death that he often displayed in them, and is in no way intended to show disrespect.

Condolences and sympathies to his family and friends.