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Sunday, October 11, 2026

October Movie Challenge: Other Worlds

House II: The Second Story (1987)
 Ok, this weekend is a complete cheat. Of sorts. I have watched these movies over the last week or so but have not talked about them because I want to get them all together to talk about them today. I saved the only "new" one for tonight and will talk about it last. But the others are all rewatches. 

This mini-theme here is all about people from our world and time going to another place and time of sorts. These movies are the horror versions of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon. Though with some, the only horror was having to sit through them all. 

House II: The Second Story (1987)

House was very much within my regular boundaries of movies, and I decided that House II would work as well. In truth, it was my rewatch of this that got me onto this idea. This one really doesn't have much to do with the first House movie, and that is fine. It has some fun lines ("Isn't Madonna the Madonna of the 80s?") and some good ideas. The basic premise is simple enough. Spooky house. Crystal skull (always fun!), and protals to other worlds/dimensions. What is not to love. This one, though, is less "horror" than House I.

Why I included it here: The portals to other lands/times/dimesions are absolute Jackson fodder. Plus I have not had a horror RPG where a crystal skull was not some sort of source of evil. I will admit, I own a couple of small ones myself. 

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)
A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)

This one, and really all the Nightmare movies, deserve their own mini-marathon. I have seen all of them multiple times. But this one is one of my favorites. I have talked about this movie here many times before, but largely because of Jennifer Rubin and her portrayal of Taryn. I really loved the character. So much so that later I would have a character of my own named Taryn with questionable hair choices. She was so important to me that she is no less than Larina's own daughter. 

Why I included it here: In this movie, the kids are being plagued by Freddy, and they learn to fight him by taking on aspects of their Dream Warriors. Taryn becomes a knife-wielding badass who may have imprinted a little too deeply into my psyche. But the connective tissue here is also Will Stanton, who becomes the "Wizard Master" in his dreams. Stupid name, but the idea works for me and what I need.

The Nightmare on Elm Street movies became less and less about horror and more about Freddy's one-liners and gore.

Waxwork (1988)

Outside of my theme boundaries, but only by a little bit. This one has a group of teens stuck in a wax museum where every display is a pocket dimension. The trouble is that each display is an homage to the "eighteen most evil beings" in literature, with the always-great David Warner as the Wax museum owner. It's a fun little flick with Zach Galligan and Deborah Foreman as our two stars, and Patrick Macnee playing... well, Patrick Macnee, but that is fine. 

Why I included it here: Well, the pocket universe idea had a serious impact on how I played Ravenloft 2nd Edition. I would go so far as to say that this is one of the more influential movies on my Ravenloft games outside of Hammer Horror. Which is either cool or sad.  The movie is not great, but it has it's moments. Though I was (and still am) a little indignant about how Dracula was killed. 

Waxwork (1988)Prisoners of the Lost Universe (1983)

Prisoners of the Lost Universe (1983)

Is this one horror? It has some horror elements, to be sure, but I am not 100% sure I can call it horror. Anyway, this one was an attack of opportunity a couple of nights ago from American Horrors. It features Richard Hatch and John Saxon, so make of that what you will. 

Why I included it here: Time travel and dimension hopping were reason enough. I'll count it as a "watch" but not a first-time view for this since I am having a hard time justifying it as horror.

The Dungeonmaster (1984)
The Dungeonmaster (1984)

Ok. So the first shock is I have never seen this one. I think I was avoiding it due to the name. It obviously has Dungeons & Dragons and Tron as its main sources of influence. That is the nice way to say "ripped off shamelessly." Ok, "ripped-off" might be too strong. Borrowed heavily might be better, but still no worse than any other movie from the time with this sized budget.

Also known as Ragewar and Excalibrate, it is ambitious in one respect. The movie is built around seven sequences, each by a different director and writer, though often the same person. Representing seven different worlds/levels/challenges. 

They all focus on Paul Bradford (Jeffrey Byron), his supercomputer "Cal" (X-CalBR8), and his oft-ignored girlfriend Leslie Wing (Gwen Rogers). They get sucked into a fantasy world/computer world by Mestema, played to the hilt by Richard Moll (with hair).  And he really plays it up. 

So Paul and Cal (now in wrist-wear format) must fight through the seven different challenges.   

There is only about 8 minutes per challenge. I would say the challenges are uneven in writing and directing, but the same can be said about the Twilight Zone movie, which is generally pretty good.  

This movie does give us the immortal quote "I reject your reality and I substitute my own." Though I had no idea it was spoken by our hero to Richard Moll cosplaying as Satan in front of a demon puppet named Ratspit. And right before he summons a dragon that looks like Trogdor and WASP shows up...as WASP. 

Metal, gratuitous nudity, dragons, magic, a stop-motion giant monkey, and computers? This is the most early 80s movie ever. We are just missing some ninjas. 

It could have been more interesting, but it just kind of ends. Oh well. Still fun, but only minor horror trappings.

Jackson, IL Connections

Ok. This one is a little different. I have an adventure coming up that these movies are the foundation for. I am not ready to share it yet; I haven't finished it yet let alone played it. But the genesis of this adventure began with a snarky comment followed by "Look, A Dungeons & Dragons ride!"

In all of these movies, people from the 1980s get stuck in another world of horror or fantasy adventure. That is what I have planned.

These were also chosen because of how many of them influenced my actual D&D games back then, as I detailed above. Horror icons, crystal skulls, dreams, portals to other worlds. I think you all can still see some of that in these pages.

Ok. That is enough for one weekend. Work is going come very early and very rudely in the morning. 

But more on this idea tomorrow.

October Horror Movie Challenge 2026
Viewed: 17
First Time Views: 9


October Horror Movie Marathon 2026

Friday, September 11, 2026

Fantasy Fridays: The Gate is Open! Yog vs Dark Sun

 "THE GATE IS OPEN! THE GATE IS DEFENDED!"

- Dying Edict of the Ash Witch

These were the final words of the Ash Witch and the first words of the Wasted Lands of Yog campaign.

Photo by Francesco Ungaro: https://www.pexels.com/photo/serene-desert-sunset-over-misty-dunes-32901661/

Last week, I was discussing the makeup of Yog: Dying Earth, Zothique, Hyperborea, Gor, and an assortment of other sword-and-sorcery, weird fantasy, and cheap paperback fare that I have put together over the years. I brought up this idea. The Dying Earth is clear on the fact that we are all going to die; Yog asks what we plan to do about it beforehand.

I mean to start putting some answers to that this week. An oddly fitting catalyst has presented itself in the form of another world in its death throes.

Dark Sun is making a comeback.

Wizards of the Coast announced at Gen Con that Athas will be back in 2027 as D&D’s first mature-rated setting. I am looking forward to it. I have always been fond of Dark Sun for the sorcerer-kings, the city-states, the perilous magic, and the feeling that the world has gone to hell in a handbasket and those remaining must make do.

But the news has stirred up an old conversation. What does one do with the hard parts? Slavery, tyranny, genocide, brutality, and ecological ruin. These are what make Athas, yet they are at odds with much of today’s heroic fantasy.

I don’t know how Wizards will handle it. I haven’t read the new material, so I am not going to judge it now. I wouldn’t want to try and make Yog into some version of "Dark Sun done right." That would be silly and a bit juvenile. 

Athas is one thing, Yog is another.

The real question is how to put genuinely disturbing matters in a roleplaying context without either sanitizing them or making a spectacle of the whole affair.

How does one handle the hard topics?

This Is a Warning

Let me be extremely plain about this.

Yog is a brutal place. Here, one will find slavery, torture, exploitation, religious oppression, sadism, and sexual violence implied.

For centuries, the Priest-Kings have held sway over their city-states through fear, tradition, and violence. Their economies run on slaves born into bondage. There are professional torturers and priests whose duty is to sanctify the social order. Some make a living from it; others simply like it.

It is an important distinction. Sometimes cruelty is the work of an evil system, sometimes the system allows an evil person to be what he wants to be.

But there is another side to it.

I have made Yog brutal, not so the players can bask in it, but to give them something to fight for.

I have no use for pages of description detailing the degradations of the enslaved or graphic accounts of every atrocity under the Priest-Kings. At some point, "mature" content is just spectacle and says nothing of value. I am after consequences.

Take Constance, for instance. She is from Yog, and she has had terrible things done to her.

I won’t go into exactly what they were. There is no need. One can tell from the world she inhabited and the sort of men who held the reins of her life. The implication is enough.

I am not in denial that the worst happened, but I see no reason to make of her suffering some kind of entertainment for the reader's edification.

What matters is Constance. And the people who later step up for her. Deirdre helps her. The Ash Witch sees to her escape. Once free, Constance starts to help others. In a sense, that is the true beginning of her story. I want to know that the players meet Constance and see that she creates a new life. And then I want their characters to do the same for all the other Constances still left on Yog.

I have a particular affinity for Constance because she is, in an odd way, a mirror to one of my other characters, Candy Mercer from the Jackson, IL game. 

Candy is a sweet girl in a world where awful things happen. Yet Candy has her protections. She has a family and friends who care for her; there is a trio of witches and a host of teenagers who have made it their business to stand between any trouble and one of their own. With all that, Candy is able to put down roots. She gets to grow up. Later, she makes a life for herself as a nurse, becomes a mother, and I she becomes someone who helps others.

Constance is what you get when you take away those safeguards from Candy. Not out of weakness or any notion that she is due for a different fate. It is simply that nobody was there in time. That is, until they were. Deirdre says no. The Ash Witch will not have it. And Constance is free to be the one who can say no on behalf of the next person in line. That is the kind of game I want Yog to be. Constance is only one, after all. There are thousands more who are still waiting for someone to make an appearance.

Look at it this way. I see a distinction between acknowledging something and putting it on display. A game can let someone know that sexual violence is part of the setting without making the players part of it. It can have slavery in its world without dwelling on the lot of the enslaved. One can have sadists in the mix without the game itself turning sadistic. Implication is not always a form of cowardice; it can be restraint.

But I am not going to solve matters by feigning these things do not exist. 

You cannot solve a problem until you are willing to look it in the face.

Slavery is evil, as is religious tyranny, and the treatment of another human as property or as disposible. I don’t believe fantasy is made better by shying away from such truths, nor does a setting become mature just for the sake of having them. Maturity isn’t a matter of how much blood is spilled on the page but the understanding of what that blood signifies.

Which is why we come to the player characters.

The slavery in Yog is not for the players to have a go at living in a slave-holding world. It is there to be broken. The Priest-Kings are not meant to be admired for their decadence, but to be overthrown.

That is not to say every outing in Yog will be an insurrection against a city-state. Characters will still be robbing tombs and sifting through ancient ruins in the sand. They will encounter necromancers who have no qualms about using the most plentiful resource in the world, the dead. There are assassins, witches, strange monsters, and dying gods, and things so old one can’t tell if they were ever alive. It is a swords and sorcery game, plain and simple.

But the Priest-Kings are part of the scenery. Perhaps the merchant outfitting an expedition the PCs are guarding is quietly passing fugitives from one city to the next. Or the caravan they are hired to protect is carrying something other than wares. Maybe that old magical weapon just uncovered is enough to put a Priest-King in the ground. 

The characters will have to decide.

And to be clear on one point: the witches did not put resistance on the map. The people of Yog have been at it for centuries. They have hidden children and fugitives in villages, poisoned their masters. Priests have turned a blind eye to orders; soldiers have done the same. People have escaped.

People fled into deserts, where they might die, rather than remain somewhere they would certainly suffer.

Rebellions broke out. Most of them were put down. There were heroes, though their names have been lost to time for the most part.

I have no desire to present the Thorn Witch, the Red Sorceress, or the Ash Witch as some kind of powerful outsiders who had to show helpless folk what freedom was worth wanting. The people already had that in them. What the witches did was of a different order.

For centuries, the oppressed have been putting up a fight. The witches’ contribution was to show that the Priest-Kings can bleed.

That is a matter of some consequence. 

A slave market goes up in flames. A slaver is gone, and then another. The Red Sorceress has a mind for some trouble, and the soldiers the Priest-King sends after her never return. Word gets around that the Thorn Witch made short work of the soldiers after an escaped girl; someone else will tell you the tale another way. Then the Ash Witch makes her mark.

The stories take on a life of their own. They are sung, prayed over, and scratched into walls. Some are threats. Whether only half of them are true is beside the point.

The Priest-Kings can bleed. And if they can bleed, they can be beaten. In a society that holds its rulers to be beyond reproach, that notion is more perilous than any act of the witches.

But the Ash Witch does something worse still. She provides a destination.

The Witch Gate

I have mentioned the Gate before. For the witches who created it, it was simply The Gate, but the oppressed people of Yog have named it something else. The Witch Gate.

I will leave the details of the Gate, and where it might lead, to the imagination of the players and the characters. Those in Yog who are downtrodden call what lies beyond it *Haven*. The Priest-Kings have a word for it too: *Hell*.

Spoiler: The Gate leads to West Haven, where the Witch Queen waits on the other side.

Their priests are quick to denounce the witches as demons, preaching that the Ash Witch has opened a road to damnation and is stealing souls from the natural order. But those making a desperate bid for the Gate are not much moved by such theology. More to the point, in their minds, nothing on the other side can be worse than life here.

Prior to the Witch Gate, any escape was fleeting. One could put distance between themself and a master or a city, or hide with strangers in the desert. Yet they were still on Yog, subject to the next slaver or law that would see them in chains. The Witch Gate offers an actual way out, not just a chance to run a little farther and hope the slavers give up.

Opinions differ on what the Gate is. Some say the Ash Witch found a road that was always there; others say that she has made a new world. Some think Haven is a kingdom, some a city, some nothing but freedom. The Priest-Kings insist on Hell. Perhaps they are all wrong. 

With this Gate, the Ash Witch alters Yog more deeply than she ever could with a blade to a Priest-King’s throat. She leaves behind something that will outlast her. The witches are a legend, but the Witch Gate is a permanent fact of the world. And a dangerous one at that.

First, they learn the Priest-Kings can bleed.

Then they can lose.

Now they understand the Priest-Kings do not have the final say on whether you remain.

That last bit is likely to unnerve them.

And it is the most important part of the campaign.

The Ash Witch Falls

And then she is dead.

This is the point at which I want the game to start. Not in the middle of the great witches’ exploits, but in their wake. The Ash Witch, The Thorn Witch, and The Red Sorceress. They have had their day and left their mark on Yog in ways the Priest-Kings cannot undo. Now they are gone.

There is no standing behind the Ash Witch and letting her sort things out. She dies.

As she falls, her voice is heard across the land.  Maybe they hear it with their ears. Maybe they hear it in dreams. Maybe a Priest-King wakes, breathing heavily, because the words are suddenly inside his head, louder than any scream he has caused.

Maybe an enslaved woman working in a field stops what she is doing and somehow knows that, somewhere beyond the horizon, a dying witch has just spoken.

It doesn't really matter how the message travels.

Everyone hears the final Edict of the Ash Witch:

THE GATE IS OPEN! THE GATE IS DEFENDED!

These are the campaign’s opening lines as much as they are the last of the Ash Witch. And the second carries as much weight as the first.

The Gate is open; you can escape.

The Gate is defended; they won’t be able to just take you back.

As for who is doing the defending? I will not say in the game. The Priest-Kings would have you believe it is demons. Some maintain that the dead Ash Witch herself is on the other side. A few witches will only smile if you put the question to them, while others claim the Gate is its own protection. What is beyond dispute is that the Ash Witch is gone and the Gate is still there.

A slave owner may wake to an empty room and find no sign of where his property has gone. A Priest-King will have his sermon ready on the soul-stealing ways of witches, though someone in the pews will be hearing something quite at odds with his intentions. There is an exit. And once that is known, the cage loses its permanence.

This Is Where the Heroes Come In

One can get used to almost anything, but that does not make it right. For as long as anyone in Yog can remember, the Priest-Kings have been saying this is the way of things. Their forebears lived so. The temples call it sacred, the merchants necessary, the soldiers call it law. Given time, the monstrous becomes normal when one has no memory of an alternative.

The world has made a habit of suffering. The heroes have not.

I could make no more telling statement about Yog. 

Perfection is not required of the heroes any more than of the witches. Some are vengeful or prone to killing where another witch would show mercy. After a lifetime of battling monsters, one has to wonder if the line has been crossed. Resistance is not a blanket justification for every deed.

But heroism can be as straightforward as looking at what has been accepted and saying:

No. This is wrong.

And then acting on it.

That is the distinction between Yog and a fantasy world done up in dark colors for the sake of it. I have no desire to see how much misery I can cram onto a map; I want to see the response to it. Which brings me to the talk around Dark Sun. Not because Yog is superior, or that Athas ought to be handled my way. Athas is what it is. But it is worth asking why we put such material in a game.

With Yog, I know why. To be opposed.

Let the sun go dark in time. Let the kingdoms and towers and Priest-Kings become yet another stratum under the sand. Everything dies. But there are chains to be broken in the present. There are people like Constance who require someone to come to them now.

The Ash Witch, the Thorn Witch, and the Red Sorceress had their say. They are dead and cannot see it through. That is as it should be in a role-playing game.

The Ash Witch’s last words are the campaign’s first.

From here on in, it is up to the player characters.

Wednesday, August 19, 2026

The Witches of Appendix N: H.P. Lovecraft

One of the old masters of the Dungeons & Dragons experience, and indeed of many role-playing games, is H. P. Lovecraft. Since tomorrow would have been his 136th birthday, it seems fitting to examine his contribution to the Witches of Appendix N.

Two of my favorite H.P. Lovecraft collections

I could spend an entire series discussing his influence on D&D, AD&D, and Call of Cthulhu. I could spend another series on his influence on modern horror. Others have done that work, and done it well.

Instead, I want to narrow the focus. Not how Lovecraft influenced Gary Gygax when co-writing Dungeons & Dragons with Dave Arneson, nor how he influenced later AD&D design. I want to look specifically at the witches in his fiction. Witches that are recognizable to readers of this blog.

The Big Three

When it comes to witches, there are three stories that stand out more than the others: Dreams of the Witch House, The Dunwich Horror, and The Thing on the Doorstep. 

Keziah Mason

The Dreams in the Witch House features Keziah Mason, the ur-witch of the Mythos.

She is said to have lived in Salem in 1692 and to have been arrested during the witch trials. That alone gives her a witch pedigree that no other Lovecraft character quite matches. Her former home is literally known as “The Witch House.”

But Keziah is not merely a colonial sorceress. She is a mathematician of the forbidden and the occult.

Her witchcraft blends:

  • Ritual magic
  • Non-Euclidean geometry
  • Pacts with beings beyond human comprehension
  • Dimensional travel

She has a familiar, the rat-thing Brown Jenkin, which acts as a proper familiar should: as an intermediary, a spy, and a bringer of harm.

The aspect of Keziah that makes her truly Lovecraftian is her intellectual approach to magic. She gets her power not from the earth, the herbs, the spirits, but from her understanding of the world in terms of angles, of solving equations, of navigating hyperspace through mathematics.

You could argue quite readily that the character of Keziah Mason is much closer to the D&D warlock than the witch. She is not the village's wise woman. She is the academic heretic, the one who has turned her back on the academic world. And it is here that the concept of the warlock in D&D starts to come together: the pact-maker, the wielder of forbidden knowledge, the one who trades safety for power.

I have also used her as the source of the equations used to power starships in my BlackStar setting. 

Lavinia Whateley and the Whateley Clan

The next one is The Dunwich Horror.  Lavinia Whateley and the Whateleys are basically archetypical witch family. The Mayfair family from Anne Rice is basically from the same mold.

Lavinia is described as ugly, albino, and strange-looking. She is isolated in the rural area of Dunwich, Massachusetts, and is raised by her grandfather, Old Whateley, who teaches her arcane formulae from forbidden books.

She is a participant in a ritual summoning and has a child with Yog-Sothoth.

This is hereditary or family witchcraft.

Unlike Keziah, Lavinia does not seem to be driven by a thirst for knowledge, merely part of a family tradition. The Whateleys seem to be part of an occult dynasty, a decadent New England family that still practices pre-Christian and cosmic rituals.

Lavinia is a bit of a mysterious figure; is she a willing participant or a victim? She is only described in external terms, observed, and spoken about.

This is the archetype for the rural cult witch in D&D: the isolated valley, the hidden grimoires, the crossbreeding with the outer forces, and the idea that witchcraft is not a class choice, merely a blood inheritance. It might even be related to the D&D Sorcerer, rather than the standard Draconic bloodline that is standard in the 3rd edition era; it is the root of the Aberation bloodlines in later editions.

Asenath Waite 

She is presented as attractive, though marked by unnerving eyes. She is the daughter of Ephraim Waite, an Innsmouth occultist. Her mother was a Deep One.

Asenath’s witchcraft is intimate. She practices:

  • Body-swapping
  • Identity erasure
  • Psychological domination

Where Keziah works through geometry and Lavinia through lineage, Asenath works through possession.

She is a domestic witch in the most terrifying sense. She marries. She enters a home. She infiltrates identity itself. 

And unlike Lavinia, Asenath is not passive. She is willful. She drives the action. She pursues control.

Lovecraft and Witches

We know from his letters that Lovecraft had a dim view of feminism. I am not prepared to say he was misogynistic at all, but rather, he seemed not to think about women very much. The women in his tales were either mothers or had occult ties.  

Keziah Mason and Lavinia Whateley are examples of women who engage in forbidden knowledge, defy social norms, and exist outside ordinary domestic life. While this makes them good witch characters, it does not put either into particularly good light. There are no witch protagonists in Lovecraft tales because there are no women protagonists. Some of this is due to the time, and some to Lovecraft's very conservative social outlook. None of this is really in dispute, but it does color how I want to approach his witches. 

True, none of the characters above are "misunderstood," but they could be more nuanced. Is Lavinia a victim of her weird-ass family? Is Keziah a victim of her own genius? Is Asenath a...no Asenath is pretty much as she is written. 

The Witch as Seeker of Power

There is a recurring pattern here.

Lovecraft’s witches access knowledge denied to them by conventional institutions. They do not sit in classes at Miskatonic University. They might haunt the library, but they are never part of the faculty or student body.

  • They make pacts.
  • They inherit grimoires.
  • They calculate angles that warp reality.

It supports a powerful interpretation: witches are those who seek access to forbidden systems of knowledge when barred from official ones.

And in Lovecraft’s universe, knowledge itself corrupts.

Given how many of his male scholars meet equally terrible ends, perhaps the lesson is not that women should not seek knowledge, but that no one should.

Thursday, August 6, 2026

#RPGaDAY2026: Day 6 Reach

Learning and dealing with occult magic is all about reach.

It reaches across the veil, into dreams, through mirrors, down bloodlines, into old books, forgotten places, and the spaces between worlds. It is not always about power. Sometimes it is about contact.

That is what makes it dangerous.

The Witch Queen Larina of West Haven knows this better than most. The white streak in her otherwise red hair is not just cosmetic. It is a reminder. A mark. Proof that sometimes her reach goes farther than her grasp. It is also something that Teen Larina of Jackson, IL has yet to learn. 

And really, that is the risk every witch takes.

To be a witch is to reach for something beyond the safe and ordinary world, knowing that sometimes something reaches back.

Iriandor NPC

This is Week 2, and the topic is Intellect. Today is Thursday, and that is "Far to Go." Today's NPC is from Iriandor, my Daggerheart setting. Neris of the South Road. They are an Iriandor mapmaker who believes the world changes when no one is looking. Given the flux that Iriandor is in, they might be on to something.

Jackson Soundtrack


Wednesday, July 22, 2026

Witchcraft Wednesday: The Threefold Goddess Tradition

 With Advanced Witches & Warlocks, I have had in mind a certain goal: to give the witch traditions the weight of actual occult practice. I do not want it to be a matter of "this witch has fire, that one has healing." There is more to it than that; it is about how one comes to terms with magic and divinity, with their coven, the world, and the self.

In pursuit of that, I have been drawn back to an old friend of my witch material, the Triple Goddess.

"Maiden, Mother, Crone" by Ben Honeycut
"Maiden, Mother, Crone" by Ben Honeycut

For some time now the Maiden, Mother and Crone have served as my way of putting the threefold form of the Goddess into words. It is a familiar shorthand that says something essential about the craft. Yet as I put in the work on Advanced Witches & Warlocks, I came to see that this was no longer an idea or conjecture to be just a background notion. It could stand as a tradition in its own right.

Hence The Threefold Goddess Tradition.

It is not to be confused with a neo-Pagan convenience or the simple equation of witches worshipping Diana. Nor is it only a Triple Moon affair, though the moon holds center stage. What I am building is a framework, both magical and theological, by which a witch can make sense of many goddesses and many kinds of magic under one sacred pattern.

So I am going to steal a LOT from the Christian Trinity. Consider the contradiction:

The Goddess is the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone.

And yet the Maiden is not the Mother, nor the Crone the Maiden. All are the Goddess.

There is no problem with that. The point is precisely there. I am perfectly happy with contradictions.

I call it the Threefold Sign. One might be tempted to take the logic of the Shield of the Trinity diagram – where each is God but not the other, and apply it here. And the logic would hold up. But the visual language would be off. This is not Christian theology in a black dress with a moon pendant. It is witchcraft and requires a witch’s symbol.

So we use something on the order of a triquetra, or three circles interlinked. In the overlap of two you will find their mysteries touching; where the three come together is the Mystery of the Goddess herself, beyond any name.

Triquetra

Some covens will inscribe the words Maiden, Mother, Crone in those circles. Others will put the names of goddesses there, or three moons (crescent, full, dark), or perhaps three ravens, three keys, three wells. The symbol is meant to instruct the initiate that while the Goddess is whole, her faces are not to be conflated. The Crone is not simply an aged Mother, nor the Maiden a young one. They are distinct, they are complete, they are divine. They are unique and they are unified. Like I have said before, I like my gods messy.

To treat it as a puzzle is to miss what is happening. It is a mystery for the witch to enter into.

The most usual expression of the tradition, of course, is to honor the Goddess as Maiden, Mother and Crone. 

One might call the Maiden the start of things. She is the first step and the new moon, the road left untraveled. She is the huntress and the girl in the woods, the rebel and the initiate, the question put to you that no one wishes to hear. There is a danger in her youth; she is not without power but is perilous in her becoming. The Maiden is the threshold and the keeper of the threshold. Through her there is deeper understanding of the beginning. 

The Mother represents fullness. Think of the full moon, the hearth, or the field. She is the queen and the lover, the teacher and the protector, the witch at the coven’s heart. She has the power to create and to bless, yet do not mistake her for being soft. Those who consider the Mother harmless have never been on the receiving end of a mother defending her young.

Then there is the Crone, the ending and the memory. She is the waning and dark moon, the graveyard and the crossroads, the winter and the final spell. She is the truth from which there is no escape. Feared for what she knows and honored for what she remembers, she is the keeper of ghosts and curses and all final wisdom.

In concert they are the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth. It is a cosmology I have used for a very long time. Witches do not tend to view death as some sort of reward or punishment; to them it is part of the great turning, along with rest and rebirth. The Crone is not an end to the story so much as the one who readies the soul to start over. This is also the same reason why my witches can't be raised from the dead.

I have found a particular utility in what I term the Lunar Mask. In my campaign notes, there was a moon-priestess who came to see a deeper pattern in the goddesses she revered. She did not forsake her faith, but understood her goddess to be but one aspect of something older and more complete.

For Advanced Witches & Warlocks I cannot employ deity names from other published settings, though I have no need to. Our own real-world mythic structure is far superior. So for the Lunar Mask I have settled on:

Diana as the Maiden. The crescent moon and the silver bow. She is the wild wood and the fierce independence of the untamed, the arrow in the dark and the way into the forest.

Selene as the Mother. The luminous presence and the dream-giver. She is the tide of blessing, the lover, the full moon shining down on everything.

Hecate as the Crone. The torch and the key, the ghost road and the witch-night. She is the figure at the crossroads where the living must make their peace with the dead.

This serves as a clean substitute for the triad in my own play and is more broadly useful for the book. It also allows for a clear delineation between the larger tradition and individual covens. One coven may give its honors to Diana, Selene and Hecate; another will have different names for the same Threefold Goddess Tradition.

Triple Hecate by William Blake

The Triple Moon Goddess Heresy

I find the notion all the more compelling here.

During a recent campaign discussion, I put forward the concept of a priestess who makes an unsettling discovery: the moon goddesses of her world are not distinct and unconnected powers as she has been taught. Rather, they are three aspects of some deeper lunar enigma.

The temples would call it heresy. The witch calls it revelation. One has to make that distinction. This is no case of a goddess making a thunderous appearance to confirm you are right, nor is it a tidy prophecy. It is a matter of scholarship and risk, of intuition and ritual. The priestess will pore over old songs for matching symbols or spot the same moon-shape in the carving above a long-forgotten door. She hears how a forbidden hymn in one temple is answered by the orthodox prayer of another. She starts to think the line drawn between the goddesses is not so much false as it is incomplete.

That is the sort of heresy I have for my witches. Where a cleric is content to uphold the temple’s version of the truth, a witch wants to know what the temple has left out.

In this way the "Triple Moon Goddess Heresy" can be made to work for the Threefold Goddess Tradition. It is not something every coven must accept, nor does it have to be true in every campaign. But it puts a fine tension on the tradition. For the Threefold Goddess is not simply a matter of old women in the woods with their rites; there is a dangerous theology to it. A witch-priestess might look at three rival temples and tell them they are all correct but have no idea why. That is very much in keeping with a witch.

Beyond the Moon

I am inclined to stick with The Threefold Goddess Tradition as the name precisely because I do not want to confine things to moon goddesses alone.

There really is no better symbol for the witch than the moon. It is the perfect sign in that it can change its shape and yet remain itself; it vanishes and comes back again. It is the ruler of tides, night, magic, madness, and fertility.  The connections are so deep and so ancient I'd be a fool to fight them.

But the Threefold Goddess is a bigger entity than the moon. Other covens will have their own triadic powers to honor her with. A Brigidine coven might see her in poetry, healing and smithcraft, three flames to one fire. Or a Morrígan coven in battle, sovereignty and prophecy, which is to say three ravens and one fate. A Hecatean coven could honor her at the road, the threshold and the grave; a mystery cult as maiden of descent, mother of grain and crone of the underworld. A coven of fates may view her as Clotho the Spinner, Lachesis the Measurer, and Atropos the Cutter. 

They are not the same coven, and they are free to disagree, even to charge one another with misapprehending the Goddess. Again, I have no objection to such contradictions when it comes to divinities. If anything, it gives the tradition an older, more vital feel.

The Daughters of Aradia

This also provides a good home for the Daughters of Aradia, a tradition I have been working on. I had considered them a tradition of their own, and they can still be, but this fits well enough. I have come to the view that they are better suited as a sub-tradition of the Threefold Goddess, or perhaps a coven of some power and mystery. In any case, their take on the threefold pattern is not the same as the Lunar Mask.

Under this arrangement, Diana is the Moon-Mother and wellspring of witchcraft; Aradia the Daughter, the liberator and teacher sent out into the world; Hecate the Crone, holding the night roads and what power is hidden from view. It is a more pointed and politically charged stance for the Daughters of Aradia. They are not simply moon witches but agents of resistance, secrecy and teaching. Their myth holds that mortals were given witchcraft to stand up to tyranny as much as to bless and heal. 

Do they get along with witches of the Lunar Mask of Diana-Celene-Hecate? Some might, others might think their way is right, and the other is a dangerous cult of apostates. Can't wait to have some arguments at my table on this. 

You will not find the quiet feel of a lunar coven of seers here, yet there is no reason both cannot exist under the wider umbrella of the Threefold Goddess Tradition. That is the kind of thing I am after in Advanced Witches & Warlocks. A tradition should be specific enough to give rise to strong covens and rivalries, but broad enough to serve as the basis for many characters and adventures.

Larina's Triple Goddess Tattoo
Using This in Advanced Witches & Warlocks

For the purposes of the book, I would make the Threefold Goddess Tradition one of the principal ones. Mechanically, its witches are adept at divination, protection, healing, charms, dream work, transformation, curses, and dealing with spirits. There is a synthesis and mystery to their power that you do not get with the rigidity of the High Secret Order, the wildness of faerie ways or the grimness of the Daughters of Baba Yaga.

Their special abilities ought to reflect the threefold nature:

  • The Maiden for courage, movement, discovery and warding off fear.
  • The Mother for fertility, guardianship, healing and the protection of the coven.
  • The Crone for prophecy, spirit speech, death-wisdom and defense against necromancy.

When a witch of this tradition reaches a certain level, she can call on the hidden center of the Threefold Sign. Not as Maiden or Mother or Crone but as the Goddess in her Mystery. It should be a rare and potent thing, bound up with the moon or some rite of initiation. Her highest Occult Power.

It also provides good material for roleplaying. A Threefold witch might be a midwife in one village and a forbidden priestess in the next. She could be put in the position of having to defend herself against accusations of heresy or syncretism, carrying three holy symbols and declining to offer clerics who want clean doctrine any explanation.

That is how I want to set witch religion apart from the clerical sort. Clerics have their temples and orders to serve their gods. Witches come to the divine through bloodlines, signs, dreams, and the mysteries of the coven, things that do not always conform to temple law. Witches are not just clerics with better fashion sense and killer eyeliner.

In the end, the Threefold Goddess is not three, nor is she one in any simple way. She is the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. The moon is merely the sign by which we have learned to know her.

Three circles. One mystery.

Links

Monday, June 22, 2026

Mirror Mondays: The Witches of 1986. The Familiar Is Not a Pet

Photo by Mayara Caroline Mombelli, https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-cat-on-tarot-cards-with-mystical-vibe-37944355/
Calling a witch’s familiar a pet is like calling a spellbook a notebook. It is technically close enough to be wrong.

In Advanced Witches & Warlocks, the familiar is one of the key things that separates the Witch from the Magic-User. A Magic-User might have a familiar as an arcane aid. A Witch’s familiar is a relationship. It is part ally, part omen, part witness, part magical bond, part eyes and ears of their patron, and sometimes part debt.

A magic-user has access to the Find Familiar spell at 1st level, but few in practice take it at 1st level. It uses up a spell that could have been Magic Missile or Sleep. And as someone with typically the lowest hit points in the party, the loss of a familiar is a dangerous prospect. Though for AD&D, the spell is a good choice. Wizards are associated with familiars, but not as much as witches are. 

In Jackson, IL, the familiar becomes even more personal. It is the cat that keeps showing up outside the school. The crow on the power line. The dog that growls at a teacher no one else distrusts. The thing under the porch that only one girl can understand. The familiar is proof that the witch is no longer alone, but also proof that something has noticed her.  In Jackson, having magic means you can see things, but things can also see you. 

I will be honest. I have not thought a lot about familiars for my Jackson, IL game. I suppose technically my three witch NPCs (and stand-ins for your characters) have familiars. Larina very often has her white cat "Cotton-ball" and I have jotted down some ideas for him, but that is really about it. NIGHT SHIFT does have familiar rules, and with the Arcane Bond power, I can make them really special, but I just haven't yet.

If I had Elowen in Jackson, she would have Mirepoix. But I have not added her, and I am not likely to, since in my mind she always plays the role of Larina's adopted daughter. That is fine, she plays a bigger role in my West Haven games anyway.

Like everything else I have been talking about here, familiars are a relationship.

The familiar is not just a cute (or weird) animal that sits on the witch’s shoulder while she casts spells. It is not an accessory. It is not a mascot. It is not there to make the character look more witchy.

The familiar is a sign that the supernatural world has seen the witch.

Familiars are an extension of their patron. In Advanced Witches & Warlocks, patrons are often active and known to the witch. They have traditions, they beseech their Patrons. In Jackson, though, they may not be known at all. In fact this is one of the features of the Jackson setting; witches are never 100% sure where their power comes from. A familiar is proof that the patrons are there, but not very forthcoming. 

OR

Maybe the familiar was already there waiting. That animal is always there where it shouldn't be. The one that shows up right before things get really, really strange. 

Of course, it isn't really an animal at all. Not really. It is a spirit wearing the shape of an animal. This is why it can't really be a pet. A pet loves you. A familiar knows who you are.  

A pet will sleep by the witch's bed. A familiar sleeps by her bed because it knows that the Night Hag visits every night at 3:33 am. 

In fantasy, the familiar is part of the witch’s mythic presentation. The black cat on the shoulder. The raven in the tree. The toad in the garden. The serpent in the sleeve. The owl watching from the rafters.

In Jackson, the familiar has to live in the ordinary world.

That makes it stranger.

A cat can enter a teenager’s bedroom in a way a demon never could. A crow can watch the school from the football field lights. A dog can follow the characters down a street and make everyone think nothing odd is happening. A mouse can live in the walls of the library. A spider can listen in the girls’ bathroom.

A demon or a monster in the school hallway changes what the adventure is about in a rather dramatic way. A cat? That is different, but which one is more "supernatural?" Which one is a larger portent of what is going on here?  A cat in the hallway changes nothing, until it turns to look at the witch and she hears it say, "Not that door."

Most of all familiars tell me two things.

First, while AW&W and Jackson, IL as projects feature witches (and in a couple of cases the same witch), they can take on very different tones and be very different sorts of witches.

Secondly, while I have a lot figured out, I still don't have it all figured out yet. Familiars are a perfect example. 

Photo by Silvio  Fotografias: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-of-fluffy-white-cat-with-blue-eyes-36933504/
Mirror Shard: Cotton-ball, the Mirror-Cat

On the surface, Cotton-ball in Jackson is an unremarkable white cat. Which is as it should be; it is his finest defense. He is small and soft with bright eyes, and he has no objection to being underestimated. The characters will find him where he has no business being, or gone in an instant when the adults come looking for him. He has a way of putting himself to sleep on top of whatever book or hand mirror Larina (or your characters) needs at the moment.

The majority of folks are under the impression he is nothing more than a cat. Yeah. That is exactly what I want.

Cotton-ball is Larina’s familiar in Jackson, though whether she understands that at first is another matter. He begins as the cat that follows her home, waits outside the school, appears on the library steps, or watches her from the cemetery fence. He is not dramatic. He does not arrive in lightning. He arrives like a cat.

Cotton-ball has an affinity for mirrors. He knows which ones are ordinary and which ones are pretending. He will not look into some mirrors at all. Others he stares into for long minutes, tail twitching, as if something on the other side is talking to him. When a mirror is about to show more than a reflection, Cotton-ball is often already in the room. Waiting and watching.

When you are running a game in Jackson, make of him what you will: a guide, an omen, a little agent of the Veil. But don’t have him laying things out for you. He is a cat. Let him communicate by knocking something off a shelf, by the way he looks at you, or by refusing to go through a doorway. He will be there at the worst possible time.

He can put Larina on notice that magic is in the air. He has a nose for ghosts, hags, and other witches, and can put himself in places she has only seen in her dreams. 

There are things he doesn't like: church bells, wet shoes, cheap perfume, or anyone who has been making deals with the things under the town. Give him cream and warm laundry and moonlight and old books, and he will be happy enough, particularly if there are secrets being told and he can listen in.

In Advanced Witches & Warlocks, the Mirror-Cat can be used as a special familiar. It appears most often to witches with mirror magic, moon magic, spirit sight, or ties to other selves. A Mirror-Cat grants the witch an instinctive awareness of false reflections, glamours, scrying attempts, and spirits using reflective surfaces.

The Mirror-Cat cannot answer every question. It can tell the witch where to look. And that is usually enough. Or, more to the point, that is usually all you are going to get. 

Again. I still a lot more work to do on this idea. 

Monday, May 18, 2026

Mirror Mondays: The Witches of 1986. Teenage Witches and the Haunted Midwest

Photo by Zak Mogel: https://www.pexels.com/photo/mysterious-fog-enveloped-wooden-house-36741001/
Last week, I examined the witch in AD&D. As a class and a monster in a game of spell lists, curses, familiars, old women living at the edge of villages, mysterious maps, and a host of others. Advanced Witches & Warlocks is a project that aims to give her proper due among the iconic elements of classic fantasy RPGs.

But there is another mirror.

If the Advanced Witches & Warlocks is interested in exploring the witch as an element of a fantasy game in 1986, then the Jackson, IL project is a consideration of how the witch would fit in the modern horror world of 1986.

By the "modern," I don't mean contemporary times. I mean an era of landlines, lockers, cassette tapes, libraries, horror movies at midnight, school rumors, and parents who believe they can keep secrets from teens

These are very different takes on witches.

In the world of AD&D, the witch is always on the edge of the village. By the old road, the swamp, the shrine in ruins, or the sinister forest. In the Jackson, IL setting, she is on the edge of town, near the cemetery, an abandoned structure, the stream, the college, a different neighborhood, or a lonely road.

The map is different, but the location itself is not.

Jackson, IL, is where my imagination has found its new home. This place isn't Salem, nor New Orleans, nor some gothic European village under the full moon, despite my affection for those locations. No, Jackson is in the Midwest. It is a small town in central Illinois. A town with brick school buildings, college halls, county roads, corn fields, old graveyards, tiny churches, pizza shops, book stores, hardware stores, Friday night football games, Friday night dances, and houses where three generations have kept the same secret.

In Jackson, the supernatural does not require thunderous declarations or Latin incantations to reveal itself. Instead, it is rather subtler.

Perhaps it is the teacher who hasn't aged since 1569. Perhaps a door in the library, locked for no apparent reason. Perhaps a statue at the cemetery changing directions at midnight. Perhaps the name of a creek that no one remembers where the name came from. Or perhaps it is the mirror reflecting something other than yourself.

This is the haunting of the Midwest. It is not empty. It is a place filled with ghosts.

Every town in the Midwest has its stories: the house that has never been sold, the road where headlights disappear, the creepy old lady that kids are told not to approach, the rail road tracks where strange things occur, the auditorium in the school where lights flicker even with the power shut off, and the place outside town known only by its ominous name of "the Bad Land."

These are stories that form the Jackson, IL environment. Not simply the background, but the actual foundation on which the Veil between what is "Real" and what is considered "Supernatural" is constructed.

Most people in the town interact with the supernatural indirectly, in fleeting moments. A shadow. A whisper. A dream. A cold sensation down the spine. A name spoken out of nowhere. And they explain it away, because that is what humans do. It is simpler to believe that everything is ordinary than to accept that ancient tales still speak truth.

Teenagers are not good at keeping their thoughts and opinions to themselves. That is why a teenager is perfect in a game about supernatural activity.

Adults follow routines, have reputations, jobs, mortgages, church groups, seats on the school board, and myriad reasons to preserve the "official" story. Teenagers care about other things. Why does that room stay locked? Why are they avoiding that particular teacher? Why did Mom go silent when I mentioned that name? Why does the school bell ring differently to me? And why do I see the woman in the black cloak and purple dress in the mirror?

Thus, the teenage witch belongs in this place.

Not only is she a character living between two worlds. At least partly, but not entirely. She is not a kid anymore, but she is not yet an adult. People look at her, underestimate her, boss her around, dismiss her, and correct her, all before she even knows who she truly is.

And then comes the magic.

She begins having dreams. Strange marks appear on her skin. She finds books at the library with strange titles. A stray cat starts following her wherever she goes and never leaves. Her reflection starts speaking to her. And perhaps she discovers that the story about the dead girl haunting the bathrooms at school was not just a story.

That is the importance of their first experiences.

Whereas in the world of AD&D, the witch appears with powers, spells, and a clear-cut purpose, here she is noticed. The world recognizes something in her, and she recognizes it back.

This can be terrifying, but also terribly tempting.

I played this scenario with Larina. There is a young girl named Larina. Some kids call her "Creepy." She has visions and talks to ghosts, but she tries to hide her magical abilities because she knows that using them attracts attention from things in the darkness.

This scenario is perfectly designed for Jackson, IL. But I also realized there was a lot more I could do with it. That starting with powers is one type of game, but developing them as the game progresses is something else. 

Being magical in the Jackson environment means revealing oneself. Every casting of a spell is an exposure to the darkness seeking light. Every magical act draws eyes. 

Jackson, IL, is still a modern reflection of the AD&D-inspired fantasy world in Advanced Witches & Warlocks. The witch concept remains the same, but the clothes are different.

The group of friends is the coven. After hours in school are the dungeons. Rumors around town turn into gossip in hallways. The wise woman standing at the edge of the village is now someone's aunt, a school teacher, a local shop owner, or someone who has waited patiently for the right girl to ask the right questions.

The familiar becomes a pet that manages to enter the school for reasons that no one understands. A notebook under the bed takes the place of the spell book. The place beyond the fence at the cemetery is the ruined shrine. An ancient deity is a name scrawled in pencil at the abandoned classroom.

But Jackson, IL, cannot merely be a simple adaptation of fantasy RPGs. 

Not only would it be uninteresting, but it would lack necessary depth. It would be uninspired. 

Modern horror has to have its own logic.

While in a fantasy game, the main heroes are expected to take up swords and bravely venture into the dungeons, their counterparts in the modern horror world still have homework to do.

They have to attend classes, deal with parents, curfews, training, work after school, live up to peer expectations, compete with rival schools, maintain reputations, deal with their younger brothers and sisters, and people who would certainly notice if they were gone for three days straight.

This makes a big difference.

A teenage witch cannot just leave town on adventures, and she has to find a way to come back, to cover the stains on her jacket, to explain why her homework was done in the library, why she is late for algebra after having seen something crawling out of the drain at night. And yet, this is not a restriction; it is the essence of the game.

The ordinary world, which is often a barrier in games of the supernatural, is, in fact, what makes them scary.

An isolated haunted school becomes frightening precisely because it is her school. A cursed road is terrifying precisely because her best friend lives on the other side of it. The monster at the cemetery terrifies her, because Grandma is buried there, while the witch's mark makes her fear going to gym class. The ordinary makes the scary parts scarier. 

This is where the theme of the Satanic Panic emerges as well, but in the background.

Not as a simple decoration, but as the very core of the game, because the town uses that panic as a vehicle to express existing fears that otherwise remain untapped. The odd girl has always been creepy, the abandoned house - terrifying, the mysterious books at the library – suspicious. While the rumor makes the witch, it provides a ready-made justification for the search. This is horror, not because of accusations, but because of the town's desperation to believe that it has reason.

Since the community is already scared of her dark clothes, her books, her music, her art, and the woods she loves, the Satanic Panic gives this fear permission. It transforms gossip into social concern, suspicion into righteousness, and parents into monstrous beings, not changing their appearances in the slightest.

Because this is Jackson, IL, the choice of setting is critical. Where in a grand gothic landscape, the supernatural would sprawl. Here it is concentrated in the small-town Midwest. Everyone knows someone; everyone is related to someone; there are always witnesses to secrets; and there are always connections between the town monster and this place, even if no one has figured them out yet.

The ghost is not just a ghost. She used to be someone's sister, student, patient, or an innocent victim of a horrible event. The hag is not a creature that came here to terrorize. She may be an aunt, a landlord, a neighbor at church, the one whose home everyone avoids because of some terrible sin, or the very reason that three generations of women in one family never drink tea after dark. Local legends are not just myths. They are a necessity. People share their tales with such inaccuracy because the truth demands too much action.

Here is the haunted Midwest I imagine for Jackson: the place familiar enough to evoke a sense of security, and unfamiliar enough to hint at inherent dangers.

It is the time that makes the adventure unique as well. 1986 is not chosen by coincidence, although the brand recognition factor cannot be denied. It represents not nostalgia, but distance in time. No smartphones, GPS systems, online investigations, instant messaging apps, or fast transportation are available for the characters. If something terrible happened at night, they needed a phone line, a bicycle, a car, a payphone, or the guts to go to see it.

Rumors spread quickly, but not evenly. Information is stored in filing cabinets, yearbooks, church hallways, newspaper archives, and the library collection.

Which means that all the investigations are hands-on. The characters have to move from place to place, talk to people, and expose themselves. Which is important because in Jackson, IL, knowledge is bound to a place. The public library is important not because it is there, but because it has archived newspapers. The occult shop is valuable not for supplies but for the chance of someone seeing a teenager there. The school is necessary because almost everyone in town once studied there and left something behind. And the cemetery is crucial, because names are inscribed in stone, but not necessarily in the right manner.

As you remember, the power of the witch in Advanced Witches & Warlocks is bound to fantasy conventions and expectations. It is associated with danger, complexity, and power. Magic comes at a price. It creates bonds and produces unexpected results. In Jackson, IL, everything is different because the flow of magical powers has changed. 

This is the reason why these two projects complement each other.

While the Advanced Witches & Warlocks focuses on how witches look in a classic AD&D fantasy world, Jackson explores how a sixteen-year-old witch attending a class on Tuesday morning realizes that her destiny is tied to something far older than the town.

I am not yet sure whether this second project will eventually lead to a full-fledged book. And it may take quite a bit of writing and effort, probably surpassing 80,000 words before I finally figure out the full vision, there is one thing that I am sure about.

Jackson, IL, is a perfect reflection. While the witch at the edge of the ancient village is the witch wearing the black cloak on the old road in Advanced Witches & Warlocks, the witch sitting quietly at the high school is the girl on the bus looking at the old road with fascination.

Because the fantasy witch and the teenage witch are not different.

They are reflections of one another through the glass.

Larina and Lars Nichols
Prof. Lars Nichols with his daughter, Larina
Mirror Shard: Larina, the New Girl Witch

Every good haunted school needs a new girl.

It is one of the staples in teen horror literature and movies, and yet it works so well because it is not a gimmick. From Buffy Summers arriving at Sunnydale High to start a new life to Sarah Bailey transferring to a new school to become the missing fourth link in a teenage coven. The new girl arrives in the adventure exactly when it is born in the audience member's mind. The new girl does not yet understand the rules of the game, so we get to learn with her.

This is important in a horror RPG.

The long-time local heroine already knows what is better to remain unsaid. She knows the forbidden hallways, the names of the families whose conversation must be cut abruptly, and the teachers whom one has to joke with and not argue. She was taught by experience. While she may not fully believe in the town tales, she knows what they are about or at least what to avoid.

The new girl doesn't know anything. Not yet, at least.

  • She wants to know why the third-floor room is locked all the time.
  • She is curious why no one ever swims in the creek downstream.
  • She wonders why there is a gap in the school's trophy case.
  • She would like to understand why the librarian keeps local histories in the drawers rather than on the shelves.
  • She would like to know why people fall silent whenever someone mentions "Mauvaisterre" or "Blackthorne."

This makes her useful. This also makes her dangerous.

The character of Larina fits the concept perfectly because she is known and unknown. We know where she can evolve into. The Witch Queen. The occult historian. The redhead witch, who wears black and purple clothing and stands in the way of the bad things trying to get into our world. 

But this is not the case in Jackson, IL.

Larina might have just moved into town because of her father's transfer to the college. She might be a newcomer attempting to blend into normality, failing to do so by noon. She might already be aware that ghosts exist in her town, but she has yet to comprehend their meaning. The other students might consider her creepy before she even introduces herself.

This is useful at the table.

The role of Larina as a New Girl Witch is not to figure out the details for players but to expose the mysteries by noticing things that everyone else failed to see or has learned to ignore.

I use Larina here because she is a great character for me. She is a stand-in, though, for any character the players bring to the table. 

  • She observes the reflection's weird movement.
  • She listens to a ringing of the bell that no one else can hear.
  • She realizes that a stray cat hanging around the school has come there with a specific purpose.
  • She discovers that the dead girl haunting the school bathrooms knows her name.
  • Her first lesson of magic is not about casting a spell.
  • It is about revealing her to the supernatural world.
  • The ghosts can see her.
  • The entity residing beneath the railroad tracks sees her.
  • The teacher who has not aged since 1769 sees her.
  • So do students who needed reasons to regard her as creepy.

So use the New Girl Witch when you want to start your campaign with a supernatural revelation. She can be a player character, NPC, rival, friend, or a stranger whom the other characters need to trust or not.

And just like the PCs, she does not have to know everything.

She just has to know enough to be scared.

Monday, May 11, 2026

Mirror Mondays: The Witches of 1986. The Witch Was Already Waiting in AD&D

The main design idea behind Advanced Witches & Warlocks is simple.

The Witch was already a part of AD&D.

However, she had yet to receive an official class.

Advanced Witches & Warlocks

After all, she didn't really fall under the same category as other classes, such as the Magic-User, Cleric, Druid, Illusionist, Assassin, Monk, Ranger, or Paladin. But the Witch had a presence.

If you know how to find her, you will encounter her in the spells, in the monsters, in the implied setting, and even in Appendix N. She hides within the text itself. Like an occult figure.

AD&D already contained curses, charms, familiars, potions, polymorphs, magic circles, haunted mirrors, hags, night creatures, demons, devils, spirits, evil temples, forbidden books, and strange old women living on the fringes of the map.  Welcome to witch country.

All that was really left was to make the formal class.

That is why I don't think of my Advanced Witches & Warlocks as trying to force a modern witch concept into a retro-style game. AD&D has its own style, its own rules, and its own unique feel. If you drop a modern witch into AD&D's framework, it wouldn't work. The two things simply don't gel. 

Instead, the real question is: What sort of witch does AD&D want to nurture?

And that is why Appendix N plays such an essential role here.

While writing my Witches of Appendix N posts, I am doing far more than merely collecting witches in an inventory list. In reality, I am attempting to identify the essential concepts that were formed by early fantasy, weird fiction, horror stories, and sword-and-sorcery before D&D codified magic into game rules.

And once you start looking, the witches are everywhere.

Notably, not all witches will go by that name. They might be referred to as sorceresses, enchantresses, priestesses, hags, mothers, queens, oracles, temptresses, psychics, necromancers, or any other female with unusual powers. They are more than just distaff wizards; they have their own unique presence. 

Not all witches will be villains either. In fact, sometimes, they are the only ones capable of interpreting the strange events taking place. Whether that places them on the side of "good" or "evil" is often too simple of a question. 

That is important for gaming design purposes. 

The witch of AD&D doesn't have to be confined to folklore alone. She doesn't have to be a village healer, a wicked stepmother, a pagan priestess, an enchantress, or the mysterious old woman of the woods.

She is all these things combined.

Take, for example, the Satanic Witch featured in Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions. The story takes place within a setting full of Christian, pagan, faerie, and infernal elements. The witch's magic is powerful because it has spiritual, moral, and social implications. Both the satanic witch and Morgan Le Fey of this tale stand apart AND stand between all these other groups. 

A witch doesn't simply cast a spell.  A witch makes contact with beings that want something from her. She makes social contacts.

Here is another vital lesson for our witch design in AD&D.

  • Magic-Users learn the arcane.
  • Clerics petition divine power.
  • Druids follow the ancient rites.
  • Witches make contact.

She makes contact with spirits, patrons, ancestors, elder gods, demons, the dead, the moon, the earth, and whatever else lies beyond naming.

Of course, this doesn't mean every witch is inherently evil. That would be sloppy game design and even worse, boring.

Here we see the magic of Fritz Leiber, where the main antagonist of one of the first Fafhrd & Gray Mouser stories isn't some evil mage, but Fafhrd's mother. Mor isn't just a boss in the dungeon, but family, power, culture, and control. She created that whole world for him, and escaping her is an accomplishment not unlike slaying monsters. Mor is not really evil. She is controlling; she is a matriarch after all, but she isn't harming Fafhrd; she is just not letting the youth run free. 

In Leiber's The Conjure Wife we see another witch, Tansy. She navigates her own "dungeon," only this time it is the challenges of a suburban housewife/witch facing other witches for dominance over their husbands' mundane careers at a University. Like Mor, Tansy is not about flashy magic; her magic is about something else.

That brings us to the third thing we learn:

The Witch is social.

She has family members, a coven, social and economic obligations, rivals, apprentices, enemies, taboos, and reputation. People know she exists before meeting her. People talk about her in hushed tones. People avoid her home, yet people end up visiting her.

  • They visit when the child is ill.
  • They visit when the cow stops giving milk.
  • They visit when their husband takes a lover.
  • They visit when their crops fail.
  • They visit when the ghosts keep coming out.

These things aren't mere background flavor; they're solid adventure hooks.

The Witch should cause rumors. She should be a reason why villages need adventurers. She should affect villages in tangible ways.

Robert E. Howard brings up a fourth point. His worlds are full of the vestiges of lost ages, dark cults, serpent-haunted ruins, vanished civilizations, sinister rituals, and sorcerers whose power seems to predate even mankind itself. His witches and similar beings appear almost to carry within themselves the weight of lost history. Their magic is not theoretical; it is something that has been practiced long before modern civilization.

This matters. Well, at least to me and my view of how witches work.

An AD&D Witch is not simply an academic wizard with a new label slapped on. This character must embody knowledge of forgotten lore that remains effective. The old magic still works.

Sometimes that involves healing. Sometimes it involves cursing. Sometimes it involves making deals with powers better left unawakened.

And here we begin to see how the Witch becomes distinct from the usual AD&D Magic-User. Whereas the latter is kept aloof from the world through scholarship, the former is involved in the world and its dark undercurrents.

  • She knows the trees that were once used to hang criminals.
  • She knows why the church bell has a crack in it.
  • She knows who among the midwives was secretly buried beyond the cemetery walls.
  • She knows what the nameless thing in the well is.

Once again, this isn't just flavor. It is essential to what the class is.

A Witch PC knows more than just whether there is magic around. She knows the history of that magic. She knows who left it behind. She knows why.

  • What spirit cursed the bridge?
  • What drives the wolves away from the north road?
  • Why does the old woman who lives near the outskirts to put out milk on dark nights?
  • Why does the baron’s daughter cast no reflection?

That's why Advanced Witches & Warlocks doesn't reduce the Witch to simply having a spell list. She is not a wizard with a broom. She is not a cleric with a pointy hat.

The spell list is important, however. AD&D is a game of rules, levels, spells, limitations, saving throws, and consequences. A class has to have some sort of unique footprint.

But a class needs something else too.

It needs a role in the implied setting and world.

The Cleric implies temples, deities, undead, holy symbols, and orders.

The Magic-User implies spellbooks, towers, apprenticeships, lost libraries, and rival magic-users.

The Druid implies sacred groves, circles, mistletoe, ancient faiths, and harmony.

The Witch implies cottage homes, covens, familiars, curses, enchantments, rites of the full moon, hidden grimoires, local superstition, wizened crones, prodigious children, the fool of wisdom, and the dangerous generosity of one who understands your predicament and the price of its resolution.

This is not merely an addition for AD&D. This is part of what makes it AD&D.

Consider the monsters.

The hags; Night hags. Sea hags. Greenhags. Lamias. Medusae. Harpies. Vampires. Succubi. Lycanthropes. Demons and devils who tempt mortals with power. The undead whose restless souls seek redemption. The fey whose customs of hospitality and revenge dictate their actions.

These are not random monsters.

These are elements of a world in which magic is dangerous, intimate, and transactional.

This is the world of the Witch.

Consider the spells.

Charm Person. Detect Evil. ESP. Clairvoyance. Polymorph. Geas. Bestow/Remove Curse. Speak with Dead. Animate Dead. Reincarnation. Contact Other Plane. Magic Jar.

These spells all have their roots in esoteric practices that involve dealing with spirits, transformations, fates, and taboo acts.

These spells all contain elements of witchcraft.

One cannot simply mix and match bits of the Magic-User and the Cleric classes, add a cat, a broom, and a pointy hat. One cannot create the Witch in such a lazy manner. The Witch should not be merely a Magic-User with a familiar or a Cleric without armor nor a Druid with a different robe. 

A proper Witch demands her own mechanics and her own logic.

That logic for Advanced Witches & Warlocks is Occult Magic.

  • Arcane magic is learned magic.
  • Divine magic is authoritative magic.
  • Occult magic is secretive magic.

The Witch recognizes magic as a complex tapestry, and one that might take notice if its strands are pulled apart.

And that's the other reason why Charisma remains my pick for the Witch's primary attribute. Not beauty, not popularity, but presence. Presence, as in the power of the self vis-à-vis others. Because the Witch must bargain, bind, curse, bless, threaten, pacify, command, and beckon across thresholds. 

It is equally obvious why this applies directly to Jackson, IL. Our young Witch may well be one of the smartest people in the room, but we don't need to assume it, and our young Witch will certainly never be the wisest. But our young Witch will have presence. Sometimes it may be subtle. Other times it may be awkward. And it will most likely manifest only under the cover of darkness, fog, mirrors, and whispers of her name. In the context of a school, Charisma becomes not simply popularity but social gravity. The ability to pull others into a secret, intimidate a bully, unsettle a teacher, console a frightened child, or even make that mysterious dead girl in the bathroom listen.

The reason why the Witch also works in Jackson, IL, just like in AD&D, is that she is powered by relationships. And there is perhaps no better place than high school for such power to operate.

Multi-faceted Non-Player Character Witches

That leads to yet another reason why this class is not too simplistic. Modern fantasy is often built around clear-cut heroes and villains, and both can do the job. However, AD&D requires something more nuanced.

The old-school Witch must be useful to the party, feared, necessary, and possibly suspicious.

She may be the party's best hope of countering the effects of a curse... while also being the very reason that curse exists.

She may heal a sick child in one town while being accused of causing a blight elsewhere. She may be neutral but remember that neutrality doesn't imply passivity but rather balance, debts, oaths, and repercussions.

She may be good yet be truly horrifying and evil, yet still cherished by someone she saved.

These are the roles that I want for my new class.

The Witch had to appear in Advanced Witches & Warlocks because of what AD&D represents.

  • A dungeon door.
  • A path through the woods.
  • A forsaken altar.
  • A burial site.
  • A locked chamber.
  • A mirror.
  • An old and forgotten tome.

In all cases, the Witch understands that these are thresholds and must be named.

  • She was there in Appendix N.
  • She was there on the spell lists.
  • She was there in the monster manuals.
  • She was there in the rumors.

Advanced Witches & Warlocks does nothing more than greet her, provide her some rules, and give her a voice.

Shard: The Village Witch

She was in the game even before she became a class.

She was in the rumor table, though nobody called her by name. She was in the little cottage noted in the forest wilderness map. She was the old woman the people feared, and yet the one they visited under the cover of darkness. She was the stranger who knew the barrow’s true name, the seeress who told the party not to open the black door, the sole inhabitant of the town not showing any sign of surprise when the dead started walking.

There were always traces of her in the game. Her familiar lurking on top of a fencepost. The curse that no Cleric could lift, but she knew who placed it. Potion brewed from grave-moss, moonwater, and blood. Charm tied in red thread. Child born under an unlucky star. Ruined shrine where old rituals still work.

Introduce the village witch whenever the party arrives in a small town dealing with some problem they don’t want to face. She can be anywhere near the settlement – at the edge of the map, at the edge of the woods, marsh, ancient trail, ruin of the old temple, the last house in town before the fields become dark.

She is not automatically an enemy of the party. Nor is she always friendly towards everyone around her. She is not a monster, though the monster may fear her. She is not a Cleric, though the villagers seek her help whenever they get sick. She is not a Magic-User, though she casts spells that are unknown in academies. She is not a Druid, but uses all the old names for plants and trees.

She knows about what the villagers have done. She knows what the monster wants. She knows the secret the priest won’t talk about in public. She knows what the Magic-User failed to discover, because he was looking for written magic while ignoring oral magic. The magic that predates writing. 

Maybe she cured the reeve’s son once, though the reeve still considers her a wicked witch. Maybe her familiar has encountered the monster, and refuses to venture into the forest at night. Maybe she knows the old name of the hill ruins, but calling it brings her blood loss. Maybe she has written down her secret spells in some old tome that gets written by itself whenever it rains thunderously.

Perhaps the village priest consults her in secret for the reading of dreams. She may have buried something beneath her hearth long ago and never talked about it for two decades. She may recognize one of the party members' birthmarks as a witch-mark. She may ask to have the curse removed only after somebody confesses.

She may inform the party that the haunting isn’t actually caused by the undead, but rather it is the grief made manifest. She may recall times when the ruined temple had worshippers. She may remember which tomb is empty, and why people keep flowers on it. She may not venture over moving waters ever since the last witch-hunt came to the town.

It shouldn’t give away rumors and heal the party for free like an automaton. She has her needs, debts, limits, and enemies. She may request to have a piece of hair, offer to protect someone, make a pact under the moonlight, retrieve a missing charm, or identify the liar among the villagers.

Most of all, she must have a price.  Not gold, for sure. Rarely gold. 

Usually, something only the PCs can provide.

But in any case, the witch is out there. Waiting.