[AD&D Gamebook] The Sorcerer's Crown (Kingdom of Sorcery, book 2 of 3)

[Joshua Randall]

We never get any use out of the manticore's quill, but at least we get to fire the other Chekhov's gun dart here.

170

We fling our war dart "with cool precision". It "whistles" as it flies through the yellow haze and embeds itself in the monstrous thumb. Normally, the "druid poison" would bring an elephant to its knees within seconds, but the darts "seem to" have no effect.

We throw our second dart… and our third.

Turn to (26).

---

26

The hand is lifting Dalris off the ground when our projectile "buries itself in the yellow wrist." The creature makes a low rumbling sound from somewhere high above us. We feel a strong wind as a great whistling noise rises around us.

Rufyl telepathically asks us what is happening. We reply that we don't know. Rufyl informs us of the "great anger" flooding his brain that's making it hard for him to listen to our mind. He's never felt such --

Before Rufyl can continue, the fog clears and we see "a circular shaft of light opening all the way to the top of the thick sulfurous cloud. The midday sun beams down on [us] like a spotlight directed with pinpoint accuracy."

The shaft of light reveals the giant creature we attacked: "it's a marid, the most powerful of geniekind, towering at least ten feet above [our] head." Dalris still struggles in its grip.

"Throw another of your toys, foolish mortal!"

We're not sure if we heard the voice through the air or in our brain. We stare stupidly at "the bushy black brows and sinister sneer", but the "bright noon sun" makes it hard to see the marid's face. There is occasionally a blinding flash of light from its massive earring of gold.

"You should know your targets before striking them, son of Landor. You are but an insignificant blight upon this perfectly barren landscape and must be expunged!"

With this simple sentence of death, the marid raises his closed hand above you, blotting out the sun in the column of light. When he flicks open his fingers, a mighty jet of salty water springs from his palm, striking you and Rufyl with a terrible force. The power of the water is so fierce that it blinds you instantly and holds your head beneath the torrent… until you must breathe—and die. ✠

DEATH COUNT: 6

 

[Joshua Randall]

Commentary:

(from 170) Our war dart flies through the yellow haze and embeds itself in the monstrous thumb.
(from 26) Our projectile "buries itself in the yellow wrist."

Which is it, the creature's thumb or its wrist? This information is of vital importance.

… the fog clears and we see "a circular shaft of light opening all the way to the top of the thick sulfurous cloud. The midday sun beams down on [us] like a spotlight directed with pinpoint accuracy."

In a book full of mysteriously specific word choices that never pay off, add "circular shaft of light" to the pile. What is happening here? Is it literal? Symbolic? Both?

Also: this cannot possibly be the "midday" sun because when we landed, nightfall was only "a few hours away". Even at our latitude, the number of hours between "midday" and "nightfall" has to be at least 5 hours, which stretches the intent of the phrase "a few".

The shaft of light reveals the giant creature we attacked: a marid…

Weirdly we don't get any physical description, perhaps because the shaft of light prevents a clear view. We do get an awesome illustration:

It's a marid, the most powerful of geniekind, towering at least ten feet above [our] head.

If you measure Carr's height in the illustration, the marid is about three Carrs tall. Thus if the distance from the top of Carr's head to the top of the marid's head is ten feet, then Carr is only five feet tall!

Alternatively, if we go by the Monster Manual II, then a marid is 18 feet tall. This would mean that one-third of a Marid's height is six feet, a more plausible height for a full grown male human. And six feet plus “at least” ten feet equals 16 feet, which is within the wiggle room provided by “at least”.

There are also the issues of artistic license and forced perspective in the illustration, which renders our measurements meaningless. But when has that ever stopped me before?

"You should know your targets before striking them, son of Landor."

And YOU should be less of a gratuitously sketchy jerk, Mr. Marid. Your telepathy is strong enough to flood Rufyl's brain and fuzz out his telepathy, meaning that you could have communicated with us any time you wanted. Or you could have communicated with Rufyl and asked Rufyl to pass the message along. Or you could have used your voice like normal.

But nope! Instead you think/say nothing as you grab our girlfriend out of the fog like a creeper, and then get angry when we quite predictably attack you with darts that don't affect you. Although I suppose they probably hurt nonetheless.

On a side note: how typical that the one and only time we get to use our Chekhov's darts, they get us killed. This book consistently punishes us for any attempt to do something cool.

 

[Jfdlsjfd]

Also: this cannot possibly be the "midday" sun because when we landed, nightfall was only "a few hours away". Even at our latitude, the number of hours between "midday" and "nightfall" has to be at least 5 hours, which stretches the intent of the phrase "a few".

This gives more information about the geography of the mysterious land where the direct road can be a myriad of small path both crossing and avoiding a barren marshland.

Since our last foray into geography, we got two key informations. First, there is a Roc nesting place nearby. Rocs are supposed to live in "warmer, moutainous areas". The book abided by the moutainous part, since we're told Rocfyl would tend to fly toward the peaks of Seagate Island. But the key part is "warmer". This directly contradicts the hypothesis that we were quite high or quite low latitude.

This could be reinforced by the idea that the sequence "we land, a few hours from nighfall, which is when the most dangerous beasts come out" is followed by mid-day. Rufyl's former warning wouldn't make a lot of sense if we were in a place where day lasts only 6-8 hours. But they, we should be between Trondheim and Mo i Rana, in terms of latitude. During the winter solstice. So much for a warmer climate.

Hypothesis: this world has a much higher axial tilt than ours, more like 40°. But this is not coherent with every other observations we did so far.

It's a marid, the most powerful of geniekind, towering at least ten feet above [our] head.

If you measure Carr's height in the illustration, the marid is about three Carrs tall. Thus if the distance from the top of Carr's head to the top of the marid's head is ten feet, then Carr is only five feet tall!

It's "at least" 10 ft above our head. Also, a random googling revealed that:

"Based on excavations at Machu Picchu, the average height of a man was 5 feet 2 inches, and women, on average, were 4 feet 11 inches."

Given the hypothesis that Carr is a "native", and we are in not-South America, it makes sense to have a short Carr. Especially since he's a scrawny wizard, whose growth was even more stunted by his inappropriate eating habits. Probably didn't exercise much either.

"You should know your targets before striking them, son of Landor."

We should really stop wearing the matching "Son of Landor" and "Daughter of Perth" T-shirts. It's not cool. It's just dorky.

On a side note: how typical that the one and only time we get to use our Chekhov's darts, they get us killed. This book consistently punishes us for any attempt to do something cool.

Attacking a random, huge creature we can't see with puny darts is probably something that is more foolish than cool, but I get your point. I suppose we would survive if we just did... nothing and didn't cast a spell. Know your place, community wizard!

 

[Joshua Randall]

Rocs are supposed to live in "warmer, moutainous areas". The book abided by the moutainous part, since we're told Rocfyl would tend to fly toward the peaks of Seagate Island. But the key part is "warmer". This directly contradicts the hypothesis that we were quite high or quite low latitude.

It also contradicts the fact that in book 1, numbered section 1, we descend a snow-covered trail even though it’s springtime. Now, of course in mountainous regions there can be snow even when the overall climate is warm (New Mexico, for example), but supposedly rocs live in “warmer” areas: they are (fictionally) native to the Middle East, after all.

(We know in some sense that these books make no attempt at realism, but it sure is fun to complain about it.)

It's "at least" 10 ft above our head. Also, a random googling revealed that:

"Based on excavations at Machu Picchu, the average height of a man was 5 feet 2 inches

Fair, and workable. “At least” 10 feet could mean 10 feet 1 inch or it could mean 20 feet — who knows?

Attacking a random, huge creature we can't see with puny darts is probably something that is more foolish than cool, but I get your point. I suppose we would survive if we just did... nothing and didn't cast a spell. Know your place, community wizard!

“Just do nothing” was the lesson many AD&D players learned from this type of DM-ing at the time.

You try to use a poisoned dart that you laboriously created? (Likely after your first three attempts ended in death due to accidentally poisoning yourself when you rolled low on one of 17 different checks.) You die.

You cast a spell? It either gets interrupted by someone higher/lower in the initiative, or maybe you roll poorly on the insanity chance, or maybe it inexplicably has no effect. You die.

You run away? You die. And get made fun of.

As I heard someone describe 3.5e — but this applies 10X as much to AD&D — it’s a rule system that wants you to roll checks for everything so that you have the maximum number of chances to fail.

 

[Joshua Randall]

13-year-old Joshua, being the sympathetic and nonviolent child that he was (who am I kidding: he was and remains a murderhobo while playing D&D), took to heart the marid's angry declaration that we should know our targets before striking them. He followed every possible path through the Yellow Marsh. But there is no way to learn about the marid in advance of a violent meeting. Even in the alternate timeline in which Carr casts Contact Other Plane. Even if the player-reader knows to be on the lookout for a marid named Shanif. None of that matters, because the gamebook simply won't allow Carr to do anything other than attack the hand that is grabbing Dalris.

With the knowledge that a violent confrontation is inevitable, 13-year-Joshua (along with his present day incarnation) sought the best path.

---

27, redux

We have time for one spell before we reach the "foggy hollow", and the "only" spells that make any sense are Armor or Protection from Evil because we don't see anything to attack.

(76) to cast Armor,
(102) to cast Protection from Evil, or
(114) to save our defensive spell and cast an offensive spell instead.

---

I am wise to this gamebook’s anti-logic: clearly the best way not to anger the marid is to choose an offensive spell rather than a defensive one.

---

114

We trudge through the stinking mire, barely able to see Dalris. She has her sword drawn in response to Rufyl's telepathic warning. [From waaaaay earlier, just after we dispelled the polymorph on him.]

We choose an offensive spell from the "powerful" ones we have memorized:

(51) Burning Hands,
(94) Sleep,
(176) Magic Missile,
(201) Fireball, or
(195) Lightning Bolt.

As we contemplate our choice, an urgent telepathic cry from Rufyl informs us that "the thing" has Dalris! We rush forward in time to see a giant hand grab her, pin her arms to her sides, and lift her out of sight into the denser fog above.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Commentary:

Given the repeated mentions of the sulfurous fog, one might reasonably assume that both Burning Hands and Fireball cause a glorious explosion that obliterates us. Sadly that is not the case. But let's assume we are not crazy enough to use fire while surrounded by poisonous gas.

Lightning Bolt seems risky, too. It might or might not ignite the gas, depending upon how much our DM hates us. It would definitely do significant damage to the marid, which is not what we want given how the marid responds to our war darts.

Magic Missile won't interact with the sulfuric fog, but it will certainly do damage, and again, we want to avoid doing damage.

That leaves good ol' Sleep, every 1st level magic-user's favorite spell. Which as an actual AD&D spell is a terrible choice because it has no chance to affect a creature with more than 4 Hit Dice (the marid has 13 HD). But that limitation makes Sleep the best gamebook choice here, because in the severe funnel onto the One True Path, choosing to fail is correct.

 

[Joshua Randall]

94

We rush at the huge hand and fling a handful of sand at the massive wrist. "SHHHHHHH!" we utter, although we wonder if our Sleep spell will affect the giant creature.

The grains of sand strike the creature's arm, only to turn into drops of water. Dalris is lifted out of sight into the stinking fog.

[In two paragraphs we’ve targeted three different parts of marid anatomy: hand, wrist, and arm. Wheeeee!]

Turn to (119).

---

119

"Foolish human! Do you dare attack Shanif, mightiest of marids, with such puny magic?" The creature's telepathy is so powerful that his words seem to come from our own mind rather than an external source.

"What is a 'marid', Master?" Rufyl wants to know.

"I am the Lord of the Yellow Marshlands!" booms the answer in our minds.

We shout Dalris's name and she replies that she's all right.

Suddenly "a soft whistling sound is all around [us]" as the sulfuric haze condenses into a mist that clusters into a yellow rain, drenching us in a stinking downpour that stains our clothes and turns Rufyl an unsightly orange.

The shower passes, "leaving the noon sun beaming down upon you and your familiar, and upon the giant creature whose own magic was far stronger than yours."

Thus belittled, we continue at (142).

 

[Joshua Randall]

Commentary:

If you're wondering what the other spells do:

Fireball and Lightning Bolt both impact the marid's hand, sending us to 26 where he tells us to throw another one of our "toys" (which doesn't make sense because who describes a spell effect as a "toy"?) and then drowns us.

Magic Missile seems to work at first, but then we notice that our unerring spell (that affects pretty much everything in AD&D including ethereal creatures like ghosts) somehow passes through the marid without harming him.

Burning Hands does not set the gas on fire. Instead, it gets counteracted by a jet of water from the marid, resulting in some impressive but harmless steam.

The latter two also send us to (119) where the marid mocks our puny magic but doesn't kill us.

And for the record, if we do start with a defensive spell (Armor or Protection from Evil), we always get the choice to then attack with our darts or our staff. The darts always lead to our demise. The staff leads to a pointless DEX test in which regardless of the outcome, we take 1d6 damage from the marid’s hand bumping us, and then proceed to (119).

That’s right: one of the “don’t die” paths involves gripping our hard wood. Make of that what you will.

---

"What is a 'marid', Master?" Rufyl wants to know.
"I am the Lord of the Yellow Marshlands!" booms the answer in our minds.

That's a title, not an answer.

If I met a mini-dragon who asked what I was, I'd reply, "I am a bipedal mammal" or perhaps "I am a human male" if I suspected the mini-dragon already knew the term "human".

Similarly if I were a marid and a mini-dragon asked what I was, I'd reply, "I am a creature of elemental water" or perhaps "I am a type of genie".

"I am the Lord of the Yellow Marshlands" could mean anything. I could be a giant slug or a sentient bullrush.

Suddenly "a soft whistling sound is all around [us]" as the sulfuric haze condenses…

What is with this whistling sound in relation to the fog? Normally that's the sound of a summoning, as heard in book 1 when we summoned Rufyl and as (will be) heard in this book when Pazuzu summons itself.

 

[Jfdlsjfd]

The latter two also send us to (119) where the marid mocks our puny magic but doesn't kill us.

Facing a very dangerous threat, the lesson is that you should use your puniest spells. I do hope we'll find a path where we get to use both fireball and lightning bolt to good use. We're supposed to rock at some point !

... are we?

That’s right: one of the “don’t die” paths involves gripping our hard wood. Make of that what you will.

That's quite good. We already established you can pass book 1 by learning no spell -- minimally interacting with the dark alley drunkard, briefly joining the College ARcane, getting directly to Landor's chamber and having Beldon killed by Rufyl (or by killing himself with his own Death spell) without using nor learning any magic. And without meeting Dalris.

The OTP in this book seems to allow surviving the manticore without magic, going through the marsh by whacking people with our staff so far and doing a sneaking and entering in Pazuzu's temple without resorting to magic either.

This was hoped to be the story of Carr, whose power would dwarf Landor's who himself was feared by the GODS THEMSELVES. We established that it was more the story of Carr, the adjunct community wizard (the title goes to Perth), but we can totally play the story of Carr, the community janitor.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Facing a very dangerous threat, the lesson is that you should use your puniest spells.

Oh, but it's not a theat. Shanif the marid is the keeper of the True Knowledge that allows you to travel the One Truth Path, and the fact that you could not possibly know that is your own fault for assuming this gamebook plays fair.

Therefor, because Shanif is not a threat, you should know to use a wimpy spell that cannot possibly succeed.

Obviously.

I do hope we'll find a path where we get to use both fireball and lightning bolt to good use.

Just for you, when this nonsense is over, I'll seek out the few times we get to blast things.

We're supposed to rock at some point !

... are we?

A legitimate question. There is a super painful quote about this coming up in book 3.

We already established you can pass book 1 by learning no spell -- [...]

Yep. And I haven't forgotten my promise to map this gamebook to see if we are correct that it can also be traversed with no magic. And to illustrate the extreme funneling.

we can totally play the story of Carr, the community janitor.

He's only missing a mop and bucket.