The joys of being a
man-child are boundless, or so a recent foray into my Dad’s loft would
indicate. All my cool stuff from when I was a child lies hidden away up there like
a treasure trove just waiting for someone to dive in (think Scroodge McDuck and
his money pit in the Duck Tales opening credits). Whilst my Action Force
figures have been snapped in half by some unknown hand (except Snake Eyes of
course, proving once and for all you don’t fuck with a ninja), the whole
adventure of sneaking a peak through the gaps of a variety of cello-taped boxes
made for some giddy excitement. There was my Amiga 600 and a horde of games
just waiting to see the light of day again; an old Scaletrix track about the length
of the A127; a worn Blood Bowl board which has reminded me that spending £50
for a brand new one is well worth it; some old Dark Horse ‘Aliens’ comics; and,
most importantly, castle freaking LEGO!
I was also fortunate enough
to find my old collection of Fighting Fantasy Books. Remember those? Adventures
typically set in the far flung lands of Allansia where you were the hero, which
meant frequent dice rolling and choosing your own path to complement the
dizzying descriptions of despicable beasts and terrifying terrors. Of course,
by frequent dice rolling I mean automatically setting your stamina to 24 and
skill level to 12; and by choosing your own path I mean keeping hold of the
previous page from which you’ve turned so you can quickly continue on the right
path just in case moving that curious brick at the bottom of that wall results
in instant death from sharp spiky things.
Spooky...
Still, despite their often
linear method of progression, Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson were rightly
held aloft by young teens who did not know any better as geniuses for the
fantasy universe they had created. Jackson
in particular produced some of the more unique entries in the series. House of Hell was the first book that
moved away from Allansia and instead took centre stage in the modern world. It
was more survival horror than fantasy and remains the inspiration for my own
book which owes a fair few nods in the direction of House of Hell. Still, it was no Creature
of Havoc, probably the high-point in the whole fighting fantasy series. Playing
a creature who cannot speak (you grunt throughout), the journey to finding your
true nature is marvellous and the finale features a great unexpected reveal
that will keep you smiling for days.
Zharradan Marr - total bastard!
So the news that a new
Fighting Fantasy book has just been released to coincide with the 30th
anniversary of the release ofThe Warlock
of Firetop Mountain (the first Fighting Fantasy book in the series for
those lacking an inner child) is very much welcome. Disappointingly, Jackson has not been
involved so the more direct and less challenging approach of Livingstone is
expected; however, Blood of the Zombies at
least seems to bring the franchise bang up-to-date with modern geek
sensibilities. World War Z showed
that zombie literature can be dynamic and thoughtful-provoking (particularly
where the zombie is used to exacerbate the ills of man being a bastard to
fellow man), and whilst such an expectation is not warranted here the least Blood of the Zombies could provide the
adventurer with is a combat system that revels in fighting off hordes of the
unliving with baseball bats and golf clubs whilst trying to survive a zombie
uprising at Ikea, Croydon. So what have we got? You wake chained up in a cell
in a Romanian castle with some deranged mad doctor infecting people with zombie
blood for chuckles. A little bit B-movie, a little bit cheesy. Ikea, Croydon
would make for a far better scenario.
Still, it remains a new
Fighting Fantasy book, and hopefully this is just the beginning of a few new
titles appearing in the series. An Evil Dead 2 inspired effort would be
marvellous, so get working on it Ian (or better yet, Steve). Until then, I’m
going to venture over to Amazon and wallow in some fruitful nostalgia; even if
the Blood of the Zombies plot does on the surface
appear to be ever so shit…
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