On the Shelf Review – Dehn’s The Book of Abramelin, Revised Edition

It’s really odd to think that this blog is old enough that I reviewed Dehn’s first edition of Abramelin (here’s the first time review) has been around long enough to see a revised edition.  The Ibis site hasn’t been updated yet, but the new edition is indeed out and available.  In fact, it was a few months ago – I just didn’t hit “publish” on this post.

For those of you who don’t know about the original edition, read the review above.  For those of you who do, let me tell you what’s different.

The most notable change is the inclusion of the entirety of Book 2.  This is a section of various charms, usually involving the speaking, inscribing, or writing of a Bible verse to achieve a particular purpose.  (This is in the German manuscript, but it was not included in the French one that MacGregor Mathers used to create the book’s most famous edition.)  Although I haven’t checked it point-by-point against my original list, I feel confident in saying that a vast amount of the material that was not included is now here.  I particularly like the spell to stop hostile people from inflicting earthquakes upon one, or the one that prevents a ghost from turning into a flash flood and drowning you.  That is a very specific problem, but if that applies to you, I’d definitely buy this book.

Dehn has also reviewed a number of manuscripts of Abramelin not incorporated into the original, and he has incorporated the variant readings into a series of footnotes.  He also covers a few different theories regarding the identity of Abraham of Worms, although sadly, this is so rushed it is difficult to get a sense as to the exact arguments pro and con each of these individuals.

One final note:  I don’t think I’ve ever commented upon a book’s layout before, but when comparing the two, it was striking to me how much of an improvement has been made to the appearance of the new text.  Good job, Ibis!

If you are collecting grimoires and haven’t picked up Dehn’s book, this would be an excellent time to do so.  Nonetheless, I’m not sure that I would recommend this as a replacement for the previous edition, save for those particularly interested in Abramelin or wanted more of the smaller operations listed in Book Two.  Such is the danger of doing a good job on a book the first time.

Published in: on January 18, 2016 at 7:53 pm  Leave a Comment  

On the Shelf: Two Books on William Lilly

We’ve recently seen two books released on the seventeenth-century astrologer William Lilly.  Generally Papers doesn’t dip too far into astrology, but Lilly did not restrain his esoteric delvings to that procedure.  He also was, from time to time, a practitioner of ceremonial magic, a treasure hunter, and an acquaintance of many other occult seekers.   He also became one of the most influential individuals of his place and time, successfully navigating his way through the English Civil War and giving advice to rich and poor alike.

The first is a 300th anniversary edition of William Lilly’s History of His Life and Times, as compiled at the request of his pupil and friend Elias Ashmole.   Rubedo Press has issued a cheap edition (purchased by me) which is a reprint of the original, with copious annotations and an introduction by Wade Caves.   It should be stated that a public domain edition is available online, but the Rubedo edition’s annotations will prove quite helpful for those not familiar with the time period, or astrology.  It is a valuable work for those who are interested in reading biographies of mystical individuals, or those interested in the history of astrology.

The second is Catherine Blackledge’s The Man Who Saw the Future, which may be summed up as a retelling of William Lilly’s life with fictional extrapolations from what is known.  (I picked up a review copy of this at the Esoteric Book Conference, which – as I never got around to blogging about it – I should say was a a wonderful experience.)  Lilly’s biography is a prime source for this work, but this is mingled with his writing and other sources on Lilly’s milieu to make an entertaining exploration of this fascinating character.  I was disappointed that the book started only after Lilly had taken on a successful career as an astrologer, as there is much of interest in his earlier life that could have been included.   Nonetheless, the book has an introduction by Owen Davies, which is certainly worthwhile.

It also bears noting that both of these books regard Lilly’s skill at astrological prognostication very highly.  Neither of them really answer the question of what proportion of Lilly’s predictions were accurate (although Blackledge notes one that was incorrect), or how much of his reputation was due to the natural tendency to cherry-pick a fortuneteller’s most accurate statements.  Some blog readers will find this unnecessary or simply will not care, of course.  If you are someone who would care about such matters, you may find that these concerns make it more difficult to appreciate these books.

The caveats above notwithstanding, I did appreciate both books.  I don’t know if I’d recommend both to most readers, but Caves’ edited work will appeal to those who want to get into primary documents, while Blackledge’s should be better for those who want a lighter read.

Published in: on January 15, 2016 at 5:00 pm  Leave a Comment  

On Hatsis’ The Witches’ Ointment and Abramelin

I just finished reading Thomas Hatsis’ new work, The Witches’ Ointment, which is the first book-length treatise on the legend and practice (such as it is) of the “flying ointment” said to be made out of a variety of dangerous or questionable substances.

I consider the book to have aspects that are beyond my capacity to judge, including pharmaceutical and historical, so I’ll pass over them here.  I do want to address one aspect of the book on which I’ve written previously.

One of the authorities Hatsis is particularly intent on taking seriously is Abraham of Worms, the purported author of the Book of Abramelin the Mage.  In his first book, Abraham speaks of meeting a young woman near Lintz (likely Linz, in Austria) who shared with him an ointment that caused him to believe that he went on a magical flying journey.  Upon putting her to the test, however, he later dismissed the experience as a delusion.  I’ve talked about it before, and you can read Mathers’ version of the tale here.

Now, our earliest manuscript of Abramelin dates to 1608.  This raises some questions as to whether it was written close to that date, or closer to the date of 1458 given in the manuscript.  I think Georg Dehn opts for the work being written by an actual historical figure at the time.  I forebear judgment for the time being, given that it would be easy to simply take a legendary figure and write a book that is supposedly his work.   I don’t insist that it dates to 1608, but I don’t have enough evidence to bring its authorship back further.  After all, historical accuracy was not necessary a primary (or even a tertiary) concern of people writing magical books.

Hatsis’ trouble is that he is dead set on Abraham of Worms being a figure who definitely did write the Book of Abramelin, and thus had the experience in Linz that is mentioned therein.  He tells us that “[b]ecause the account is so damaging to the skeptic’s argument it has been either dismissed or ignored or explained as a later forgery.”

It’s not clear where these skeptical rebuttals regarding Abramelin and witch’s ointment have appeared, but we’ll pass over that for now.  Hatsis pushes his argument further:

…it would have been dangerous – nay, downright foolish – if, at the height of the witch trials (the time that modern skeptics say the story originated), Abraham, a Jewish mystic, would essentially admit to engaging in witchcraft.  So it makes more sense historically to date Abraham’s account to the time when such practices weren’t considered diabolical witchcraft at all…

According to Hatsis, Abraham’s account pertains to an earlier time, before the 1420s, in which the use of such substances was seen as perhaps improper, but not in and of itself demonic.

The problem here is context.

If you read to the end of the passage to which I link above in Mathers’ edition, you’ll know that the sorceress admits at the end that she got the ointment from the Devil.  What makes this difficult is that Dehn’s translation – which is generally more accurate – states that it is the “Greek art,” described in the story after that of the witch of Linz, that is a demonic mixture.  The version of Peter Hammer’s German work that I have available suggests that this pertains to the witch’s story.

I believe that, before Abramelin can be used as a source here, this particular reading of the original manuscripts needs to be teased out.   If this is part of the story, Abramelin is not only discussing a flying ointment, but also endorsing a view that it has a diabolic origin – which means that Hatsis’ argument that it was written before that view collapses.

Speaking of diabolical involvement,  what else might you avoid putting in a document if you wanted to avoid getting in trouble with authorities obsessed with demonic conspiracies?  How about a procedure for summoning Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, and Belial, and all their subsidiaries, such as the one Abraham provides?   It’s safe to say that whomever wrote Abramelin did not consider being hauled in front of the magistrate to be a major concern.

A more plausible narrative emerges if we consider Abramelin to have been written much closer to 1608.  By that time, a number of supposed eyewitness accounts had circulated of people under the effects of the ointment, on which our author could have drawn.  Also, by this time the practice would have been considered wholly demonic, which fits with the narrative of that section.

This is not the only problematic aspect of Abramelin’s use, On the following page, Hatsis states that by the 1420s “the ointments contained plant-based psychoactive medical drugs as noted by Alonso Tostado and Abraham of Worms.”

As it turns out, however, Abraham mentions the ointment, but not anything regarding its contents.  As a bonus, Alonso Tostado also fails to mention any such ingredients, instead simply speaking of a mixture that made a woman believe that she was joining a company for food and sex, which made her insensible to pain while in effect.

One could make the hypothesis that the most likely content of such ointments was indeed plant-based psychoactive medical drugs, but neither passage says this.  This could be a simple misunderstanding, as Hatsis’ accounts of both authors earlier in the book does not say this, but I think an unwary reader could be led astray by this passage.

In short, although this book was quite informative, I feel that the link to Abramelin is presented more conclusively than it should be without a closer examination of the evidence.  In addition, a person who reads it to find out about Abramelin and its links to psychotropic substances may wish to consult that book more closely.

 

Published in: on January 4, 2016 at 9:28 pm  Comments (2)  

What’s Important

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As we bustle about, regretting purchases, traveling vast distances, or caught up in interminable holiday parties and gatherings, I’d like to encourage you to stop to think about what’s important.

Of course, that’s not to conjure spiJenaer_Christnachttragödie (1)rits for treasure hunting in a room with inadequate ventilation.

Today marks the 300th anniversary of the Jena Christmas Eve Tragedy.  You don’t see too much about it in the literature of ceremonial magic, save that Butler mentions it in Ritual Magic, and Dillinger gives it some space in Magical Treasure Hunting.  You can also read a German pamphlet, Wahrhafftige Relation dessen, was in der Heil. Christ-Nacht zwischen den 24. und 25. Dec. 1715, if you like.

The tale is as follows:  a local tailor, Georg Heichler, believed that the apparition of a white lady in his vineyard signified the presence of treasure.  He ended up in the company of two treasure hunters, Hans Gessner and Johann Weber, who both purported to have the spiritual authority to frighten off this spirit so the money could be obtained.  They sought for a suitable site for the ritual, eventually settling upon a tiny hut in the vineyard, scarcely five square meters.  Heichler set up the room, including  a small charcoal burner, and went back to his business.  Weber and Gessner brought along one Hans Zenner, to arrive at the requisite odd number of summoners, and they settled in for a night of conjuration of the spirit Nathael, who rested under the authority of Arbatel spirit Och.

In the morning, Heichler found both Gessner and Zenner dead, with Weber about to follow.   Remarks were made about curious scratches and weals found on the bodies.  To make this even more troubling, three guards were assigned to remain in the hut that night, and one of them died, apparently of the same cause, with the other two becoming very ill.

Today this is generally seen as a case of carbon monoxide poisoning arising from the coals, although it has some unusual aspects noted in the last paragraph.  The spirit Nathael has not been noted in a grimoire before or since.

The story includes some other lessons, including “Don’t use adulterous affairs to acquire mandrakes.”  Admittedly these are rather specific, but knowing my readers, it’s best to pass them on.

Happy holidays, and don’t burn charcoal in small enclosed spaces!

Published in: on December 24, 2015 at 11:43 am  Comments (1)  

An English Ritual for a Hand of Glory

The following is my translation of a Latin passage in Sloane 1727, dated to the seventeenth century:

Make a candle of the fat of a thief, having been hanged, and kindle this where you think treasure to be, and walk through all places that have been suspected.  When you might come to the place under which there is treasure, that candle will burn strongly [and] darkly, and if there is no treasure, the same will cast a bright light.  Candles, having been placed in the hand of a dead thief, kindled, throws onto all the sleeping people in the home a profound sleep.

Generally, when people are looking for the Hand of Glory, they usually turn to the Petit Albert or the Grimorium Verum, so it’s interesting to see an independent appearance in an English manual of magic.

Happy holidays, everyone!  (Yes, that’s an odd transition.)

Published in: on December 21, 2015 at 12:41 pm  Comments (1)  

Review: Hutton’s Blood and Mistletoe

I’ve just had the pleasure of finishing Blood and Mistletoe:  The History of the Druids in Britain by Ronald Hutton.  It’s been out for quite a while, but I was asked to give some thoughts on the book.  This could be difficult, as I’ve read this book over the course of about half a year, but I’ll give it a shot.

51MtquLPwLL._SX346_BO1,204,203,200_First, I should say that I consider Ronald Hutton to be a gift to readers everywhere.  He has taken so many topics that have been considered fringe or questionable and shown that they can be discussed in their historical and cultural contexts, while finding a stance from which even the most unusual characters can be regarded with respect.  This is not to say that I agree with everything he has written, but most of it is worth reading.  Blood and Mistletoe certainly is – if you’re looking for a particular sort of information.

If what you’re looking for is information about the historical Druids, I would recommend this book – especially the first fifty pages.  Hutton performs a comprehensive roundup of the many different sources that we can access on the Druids:  Greek and Roman authors, archaeological sources, and Irish and Welsh sources written well after the fact.   All of these possess various levels of reliability and bias, none of which are conclusive sources.  What makes them even more problematic is the wide variation of information within them.  We are thus left with a collection of dubious information, much of which contradicts the other sections.

The bulk of the book is devoted to the use of the Druids in the intellectual life of Britain, as poets, antiquarians, politicians, novelists, and others over the centuries appropriate them to serve in various purposes.  They have been used to call up nationalistic sentiments – at various periods, in Scotland, England, and Wales – to critique paganism and Christian sects, and to create idyllic or horrific portraits of the past, depending upon what sources you want to dip into.  Even if you want to know about the historic Druids, this book covers such topics as why we think Druids wear white robes, or how ovates and bards entered the picture of our understanding of these individuals, or the differing ideas of the relation of Druids to Stonehenge.

Hutton also covers the reappearance of Druidic orders, which at first appeared as voluntary associations rather than pagan faiths.  Of particular note are the Ancient Order of Druids, the first of these,and the Universal Bond, the Druid order that conducted rituals at Stonehenge for many years.  If Hutton’s emphasis is any indication – and I can’t say it is – the reconstruction of Druidic ritual, as undertaken by groups such as Ár nDraíocht Féin, has had little role in the British scene, with much of the doctrine of these groups taken from many other religions, chiefly Christianity.  Those who want to know more about “Druids and Neopaganism” (yes, we can quibble about those terms, but even those who might will understand what I’m aiming for) should try for other sources.

Blood and Mistletoe does take a certain amount of interest and commitment from someone who wants to read the whole piece, as some of the exploration of various Druidic motifs in literature and art may only be of interest to specialists.  Still, the book is an indispensable reference for anyone interested in the Druids.  I’d suggest checking out Ronald Hutton’s other books as well, if you’re looking for a Christmas/solstice gift for someone with esoteric interests.

 

Published in: on December 5, 2015 at 1:21 pm  Comments (1)  

Forthcoming – Peterson’s Sworn Book of Honorius

I don’t have much time to post, but this is important:

As the title testifies, students were sworn to secrecy before being given access to this magic text, and only a few manuscripts survive. Nevertheless, it is considered one of the most influential magic texts. Bits of its teachings are alluded to in other texts, like the use of the magic whistle for summoning spirits. Another key element of its ritual, the elaborate “Seal of God,” has been found in texts and amulets throughout Europe.

Interest in the Sworn Book of Honorius has grown in recent years, being discussed at length in several recent books, yet no modern translations have been attempted. A critical edition of the Latin text by Gösta Hedegård (2002), has already become somewhat dated by new research.

Purporting to preserve the magic of Solomon in the face of intense persecution by religious authorities, this text includes one of the oldest, most detailed, and complete magic rituals. It is aggressively pro-magic, countering that the persecution and anti-magic hysteria were themselves inspired by demons seeking to suppress the divine art.

It’s an immensely influential book of ritual magic, with links to Dee and much of the later grimoire tradition.  Out in May.

Published in: on December 2, 2015 at 6:21 pm  Comments (2)  

On the World Fantasy Awards and HPL

I wasn’t even going to write about the controversy about the World Fantasy Award no longer being represented by a Lovecraft bust, but I seem to keep doing it anyway on Facebook.  I might as well do it properly.

Lovecraft was a racist.  You can argue that other authors were racist (and they often were).  You can argue that Lovecraft was reflecting the attitudes of many people of his time (and you’d be right, despite how enlightened we think the past was – check out this Gallup poll on interracial marriage).  You can argue that attitudes change, and that modern perspectives may one day be considered offensive (quite right).  You can argue that most of his work isn’t that racist (you can certainly make a case for it).  And after you argue all this, guess what?  Lovecraft was still a racist.

As more people encounter Lovecraft’s writing, they also encounter his racism.  I think there are three responses to it.  The first is, “He was racist?  Great!”  We can and should ignore those people.  The second is, “Even though Lovecraft is racist, I think there’s enough here to make him worth reading, or even inspiring my own creations.”  The third is, “Lovecraft is racist, and I’d rather not have anything to do with him.”

Now, I clearly fall into the second category, but I get the third.  Life is short, and if you want to not read an author due to their political views, I can’t really tell you not to.  I can say that it’s not the criteria I hope you’d use, but I once stopped reading a book because it used the phrase “Abramelin yoga,” so I can understand not wanting to participate in some activity due to a visceral response to one issue or another.  And I don’t mind you trying to convince other people not to read that author.  It’s only when the option of doing so is taken away that we have a serious situation.

So, people in the third category, including winners of the World Fantasy Award, expressed their concern – and outrage, in some cases – that they were being awarded for their writing in the shape of the head of a guy whose views are highly distasteful at this time.  They certainly had a right to do so.  The committee no doubt balanced the idea that this was an award for writers against the fact that it was an award in the shape of some guy’s head, and decided in favor of making an award any writer would be proud to get.   They also had a right to do so.

Now we have people in the Lovecraft community who are incensed that this change was made.  They also have a right to make their voices known, to protest, and to spend their money as they see fit, but…

There’s one aspect of my life I don’t speak about on this blog:  my involvement in what people might call “social justice” issues, and what I call “trying to make the lives of the people around me better.”  This picked up a few years ago, and I’ve been involved in educating others, trying to help people with problems, participating in protests, and just listening to the stories of others.

I’ve found that there’s a disjunction between this activity and the various fandom controversies that we’ve been seeing lately.   As I’ve said, we can debate issues such as the WFA award, and advocate, and spend our money and time as we see fit… but damned if it doesn’t make us look entitled sometimes.

There is no fundamental right for someone to have an award shaped like his or her head.  There is no fundamental right to be allowed to speak in a particular place, or to have a particular store sell your product, or to have a library purchase your book, or to have a piece of art appear in the Louvre.  You may be given a particular venue, or you may not.  People may have all sorts of reasons for making that choice, and they may change their minds.  As long as you still have venues open – and today, they exist in abundance – everything is working as it should.

Thus, this decision is not “censorship.”  Censorship is the suppression of a creative work, not a decision to not use a particular creative work in a particular way.  Using it in this sense trivializes the work of many writers who have indeed seen their works destroyed or kept from the public, and who have even endured imprisonment or death for seeking to share their ideas.

No one is being made to pack up their Awards and mail them back.  You can still view pictures of them online.  I’m sure that one consequence of this decision will be attempts to actually market the sculpture in question to people.  And I’m just talking about the Gahan Wilson sculpture – not the works of Lovecraft, which can be found in many different formats and in many different languages and adaptations across the globe.  Lovecraft’s popularity has escalated over the years, and even if that is temporary, he is in no danger of being censored.  In fact, this whole controversy is based on the fact that HPL wasn’t censored, and that people can find even the minor and occasionally highly offensive verse he wrote.

I know there’s people talking about decisions being “p. c.” or being made by “SJWs,” and I think we should prize free expression over imposing or silencing particular views.  Nonetheless, I also see some of the same people insisting that the award should have simply been turned down by those who didn’t agree with HPL’s depiction.  As I’ve said, it’s a writing award, people.  Stating that a decision was made for ideological purity doesn’t mean you also can demand ideological purity from others.

I’ve also heard complaints that this change is an insult to Lovecraft fans, and that it tars all of them with the brush of racism.  To help understand why this itself is a problem, I’ll insert a quick comparison:

Problems for people of color:  Enduring centuries of slavery, violence, injustice, segregation, and discrimination.

Problems for Lovecraft fans:  Being denied award sculpture in shape of author’s head.  Some people might think they’re racist.   Bad movies.

Do these arguments make people want to read Lovecraft, or interact with their fans?  Certainly people can advocate on behalf of a Lovecraft-shaped award, but portraying fans as victims in this situation is going to play very badly.  It doesn’t make us look racist, but it sure as hell comes across as insensitive and trivial.

Let me end on this note:  If what makes you hopping mad, or compels you to write angry letters to all sorts of people, is anything having to do with a writing award, you need to seriously rethink your priorities.  There’s a number of ways to do that, one of which might be to put aside Lovecraft and read something along the lines of the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass for a little while.  After that, maybe we can start more of a dialogue about how we read and discuss Lovecraft and other authors who might not always have been the people we wish they were.

UPDATE:  … and in the morning, it looks even less relevant.  My deep sympathies to the people of Paris.

Published in: on November 13, 2015 at 5:37 pm  Comments (3)  

On the Three Ladies at the Table

Many readers will be familiar with the famous ritual in the Grimorium Verum (Peterson or Stratton-Kent editions) to call three spiritual ladies or gentlemen to a table to gain their favor.   A similar ritual appears in the Book of Oberon, as well as in Sloane MS. 3853, and we have several other rituals among the literature of ritual magic that are along the same lines.  Those who are interested in other such examples might check out my article in The Faerie Queens anthology from Avalonia.

Enough links to books!  I’ve made a discovery, via Katherine Briggs’ Anatomy of Puck, of another piece with a similar procedure that predates most ritual magic by centuries.  In the mid-thirteen century, Adam de la Halle, a playwright of Arras, composed a comedy entitled Le jeu de la Feuillee.  It consists of a number of short vignettes surrounding life in the French city – including a visit by three supernatural ladies.

We have very little setup for their appearance, but it would appear that Adam – a character in the play as well as the playwright – and his friend Rikeche have put a table out for the fairies.  Although they are not present, others watch from the sidelines as three women – Morgan, Arsile, and Maglore – appear and take up their seats at the table.  All of them are enchanted by the preparations, save for Maglore, who notices that her knife at the table is missing.  The other two fairies engage her in some playful jesting, but Maglore will have none of it.  The sisters next talk of how the two should be rewarded.  Morgan and Arsile grant Rikeche success at business and riches, and give Adam happiness, fame in love, and a reputation as a poet.  Maglore, still put out, grants Rikeche baldness and condemns Adam to spend his time with his wife instead of running away to Paris.  The whole matter rapidly descends into farce from here.

What is particularly interesting here is one detail from earlier in the poem:  a description of the back of Adam’s wife, “Ke manche d’ivoire entailles / A ches coutiaus a demoisele,” which the editor translates as “Sculpted like the ivory handle / Of those knives for noble maidens.”  He then draws a parallel between this phrase and the knives on the table of Morgan and the others.  It bears noting that some manuscripts, including Sloane 3853 and e.Mus 173, specify that white-handled knives should appear on the table to which the three mysterious women are called.  Admittedly, it could be a coincidence, but the sheer number of correspondences are enough to make one wonder.

(You can find an English translation of Le jeu in The Broken Pot Restored, edited by Gordon D. McGregor.  I should note that the translation has been modernized and might not be accurate at all points.)

Published in: on November 6, 2015 at 5:37 pm  Comments (3)  
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Delta Green Kickstarter Final Days

We’re coming to the end of the Delta Green Kickstarter, with only 38 hours remaining.  For those who are wondering what they get, here’s a breakdown:

  • For $1, you get the free PDFs that come to all backers, including pieces on the King in Yellow, Atlach-Nacha’s minions, and body disposal, plus the CONTROL GROUP introductory campaign.
  • For a $20 pledge, you can get the Agent’s Handbook (player’s guide) in PDF, along with a bunch of PDFs, including at least one complete book of scenarios.
  • For a $150 pledge, you get the player’s guide in print, along with PDFs of the GM’s guide, the GM’s screen, Kenneth Hite’s Trail of Cthulhu campaign set in Vietnam, a King in Yellow campaign (with my writing), the CONTROL GROUP campaign, a Majestic-12 sourcebook, and (we’re about $400 away) a sourcebook on the British paranormal organization PISCES, plus a whole bunch of backer PDFs.
  • For $300, you can get all of the above in print, save the backer PDFs (still PDFs).  That’s 7 books and a GM screen, which is not bad for a bunch of gaming books these days, with a lot of bonus scenarios and other material.

Yet… if we could get another $40K, this would unlock:

A while back Dennis Detwiller, the creator of the Fate, told Scott and me that he figured that at some point after 9/11, Stephen Alzis vanished. There was no fanfare, no coup, no maneuvering. He just stopped showing up. And naturally all his followers started taking each other down, each of them wanting to be top boss.

So, Scott and I at Gen Con were talking about that. We started laughing at the thought of Delta Green agents in New York realizing what had happened, and how rabid they would be to jump in the middle of all that and take another shot at the Fate.

The more we imagined it, the more it sounded like a pretty bad-ass campaign to play.

That’s Delta Green: Falling Towers. 

If this runaway project hits $340K, we’ll publish it.

Falling Towers will be two things. First, a series of scenarios where Delta Green agents in the 2000s turn every available resource toward rooting out the fractious Network and destroying it. Second, a sourcebook for the mysteries and threats Delta Green faces in New York today. You can run a Fate-hunting campaign in the 2000s and use that as a launch point for an ongoing New York campaign today. The primary writers will be me, Daniel Harms, and Dennis Detwiller. Dennis will illustrate it.

So, if you’re on the fence , that might appeal to you.

Published in: on October 27, 2015 at 8:27 pm  Leave a Comment  
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