Zothique. Xiccarph. Hyperborea. Averoigne. Clark Ashton Smith is one of my all-time favorite authors and artists. He was a real outsider, not in the HPL sense, but in the artistic sense, in terms of his sculptures, paintings, etc. Though his poetry did achieve quite a bit of notoriety and critical acclaim early-on in his career. To this day Smith's poetry from Weird Tales remains lush, vivid, effective...the feverish phantasmal remnants of a timeless genius who stood toe-to-toe with pulp giants and literary leviathans and out-did them all, often beating them at their own game.
While I originally intended to compile an Autho Profile on Clark Ashton Smith, much as I did for E. A. Poe and Leigh Brackett, it appears that the notes for that piece have been lost and will have to be re-compiled, which will take time that just isn't available right now...so a full Profile on CAS will have to wait for later in our schedule, possibly in the Spring. In the meantime, one of the better Bios for Smith is at Alan Gullette's site, and the single most important and useful site out there for all things related to Clark Ashton Smith remains The Eldritch Dark. The absolute best place to start in terms of finding out who Clark Ashton Smith was, and to sample his incredible Weird Fiction (including some examples of his unpublished story fragments!) is The Eldritch Dark. If only someone would build such a wonderful online archive/shrine for Leigh Brackett as well...
You can see a nice selection of cover art from Clark Ashton Smith's various books over at the Lord of the Green Dragons blog. There are a few in that selection that I hadn't seen before, so I know it's well worth checking out.
Recently I discovered a site that makes a number of Clark Ashton Smith stories available as downloadable audiobooks. For example The Maze of Maal Dweb, which I've embedded below. Just click and it ought to play right there:
Speaking of fellow Smithophiles, the Mad Man of Carcosa Geofferey McKinney is hard at work developing a Fresh New Clark Ashton Smith-inspired RPG supplement titled Isle of the Unknown, which the one and only Mr. Raggi's Lamentation of the Flame Princess will be bringing out --alongside a slightly revamped Carcosa. You can expect the new Carcosa and Isle of the Unknown in Spring of 2011. Those two maniac-brainiacs working together on an old school CAS-inspired project is very promising news indeed, no matter which or whatever cliquecult school you choose to affiliate with or flag-wave on behalf of...if you check out McKinney's blog, you can get details on his creative process this time around and determine for yourself if it sounds like your cup o' tea. Personally, I think that it sounds absolutely fascinating...
We'll have an author profile on Clark Ashton Smith, and a closer look at some of his more over-looked stories, eventually.
Shambleau is very likely C. L. Moore's most famous story. It concerns her hero Northwest Smith encountering a weird, un-woman-being called a 'Shambleau' on Mars. The locals are gathered together in a lynch mob to kill the thing and Smith, being the macho adventurer-dude who thinks with his gun, jumps into the fray to defend what he sees as a fairly defenseless and very feminine victim.
All het up and ready for a fight, Smith stands up to the mob and instead of having to crack a few heads like he expected, he finds they instead are revulsed, disgusted and incredulous that he's not only come to the shambleau's defense, but that he claims it as his--the shambleau (obviously female) is claimed as some thing--if not exactly someone--that he fully intends to defend personally against the angry mob. There's something about his taking possession of the shambleau that somehow almost feels like it is bordering on quasi-bestiality more than any trace of atavistic chivalry. The mob reacts to his declaring that the shambleau is his with confusion, displeasure and outright incredulous disgust. This scene is important to the overall piece as it allows Moore to evoke a miasmic whiff of potential bestiality and the spectre of miscegenation both and she does it skillfully, making your skin crawl slightly without overtly hammering the point home like HPL might have (Like the Anti-Tarzan Arthur Jermyn or the immigrant riff-raff in Horror at Red Hook or the Call of Cthulhu...just to pick three quick/easy/obvious examples). In 1933 in the USA it was illegal for mixed-race couples to get married in most, if not all of the states. The civil rights movement was more than thirty years ahead in the future when Moore wrote this story. The whole sordid business of race purity doctrines, politics rooted in eugenics and the scientific ethnic cleansing of the populations of Europe and Russia were just getting going. Sweden, for example maintained race hygiene policies up until the Seventies. It wasn't just Nazis who were interested in human biology and applying modern agricultural techniques to human beings. But that's a very loaded and very tangential area, so we'll just skirt by it this time out. For our purposes, it's enough, for now, to simply keep in mind that racism was very much part and parcel of nearly everything back in the Thirties and the notion of half-human races of semi-aboriginal/quasi-mulatto (pseudo-quadroon?) hybrids and half-breeds out amongst the periphery of civilization was fairly commonplace throughout early science fiction. It wasn't just Edgar Rice Burroughs who had the local humanoid egg-laying aliens turn out to be physically (and reproductively) compatible with the good, hearty stock of terran humanity. It also didn't start with Roddenberry's ultra-famous space-satyr Captain Kirk who left a trail of his seed across dozens of worlds either.
Back to C. L. Moore and Shambleau. After Smith rescues the shambleau from the angry mob he leads the thing back to his rooms. He acts in the heat of the moment and doesn't really think about what he's doing, he just spontaneously comes to the defense of a frightened female in distress. He's a slave of his glands, and his upbringing, which is very clearly an idealized form of noble chauvanism. He saw a pseudo-woman in trouble and leaped into the fray to protect her. Standard operating procedure. She might have been an axe-murderer for all he knew, but that doesn't stop Smith. It's not until they get a moment away from the threat of mob violence that it finally occurs to Smith what he has done. Maybe, just maybe the creature exerted some influence upon his mind or his nervous system to get him to come to her aid, but Moore is cagey and never reveals that detail. We're left with the impression that Smith is impulsive and rash and that he tends to leap without looking, a real daredevil, devil-may-care sort of vagabond adventurer. The kind of guy who gets himself into sticky situations that are fun to read about. He's definitely not an accountant who lives at home with his mother, six cats and a host of neuroses and allergies.
He examines the shambleau and it's not what he was expecting at all, not that he was really expecting anything at all...though he did realize that the thing is female and that triggered his chivalric impulse...or was it something a bit more carnal in nature? The subtle allure of the shambleau seems to co-mingle both an almost pheromonal aspect with a vaguely mesmeric come-hither gaze, making it a truly effective femme fatale. Moore describes the shambleau's eyes as:
"They were frankly green as young grass, with slit-like, feline pupils that pulsed unceasingly, and there was a look of dark, animal wisdom in their depths -- that look of the beast which sees more than man."
Then it gets slightly more racy as Smith looks at the thing that he has rescued and thinks to himself:
"After all, she was no more than a pretty brown girl-creature from one of the many half-human races peopling the planets."
Yep. A pretty brown girl-creature. A grateful female from one of the obscure half-human races that were to be found all over the backwater regions of various other planets, the vaguely humanoid minority underclass beings who didn't have any real, formal place in society. And hey, she was already partly human, so someone else already committed the really unpardonable crime of mixing the blood, of miscegenation, previously, thus it wasn't anywhere near as bad as that were Smith to consider relations with this fragile-seeming, obviously persecuted and oh so vulnerable female with the smooth, sweet brown skin...if Moore missed any opportunity to pile on the racial/sexual innuendo and erotic implications in this encounter, it wasn't for lack of trying.
Moore deftly and skillfully evokes eroticism without stooping to blatant Romance Novel language nor by hitting the reader over the head with it, she's very sly and stealthy and subtle--just like a shambleau would be--and she builds up the hints and clues and implications like a net of incense smoke in moonlight, never quite coming out and saying it, but then lingering long enough to let the idea of what she's intimating sink in almost osmotically, like a text-borne drug or the luminous malevolence of the unforgettable eyes of Florence Marley in the classic 1966 space-vampire movie Queen of Blood--featuring one of the most shambleau-like movie monsters so far. But of course the vampiric-Queen is green rather than brown...and she's a blood-drinker not a vitality draining addictive co-dependent...but you can't have everything. The trailer is right below:
If you're interested, you can watch the entire movie (cut up into parts) of Queen of Blood at YouTube. It's a bit dated, but still one of the better space-vampire movies, and like I said, the vampiric Queen comes pretty close to being a shambleau. At least as close as I've seen so far.
"She had risen soundlessly. He turned to face her, sheathing his gun and stared at first with curiosity and then in the entirely frank openness with which men regard that which is not wholly human. For she was not. He knew it at a glance, though the brown, sweet body was shaped like a woman's and she wore the garment of scarlet—he saw it was leather—with an ease that few unhuman beings achieve toward clothing. He knew it from the moment he looked into her eyes, and a shiver of unrest went over him as he met them. They were frankly green as young grass, with slit-like, feline pupils that pulsed unceasingly, and there was a look of dark, animal wisdom in their depths—that look of the beast which sees more than man."
Frank openess. Brown, sweet body. She has a body that is blatantly shaped like a woman's. Clingy red leather. You can almost hear a porn movie guitar in the background. That there 'shiver of unrest' is a nice touch. Does anyone doubt that Mister Smith has wood at this point? But alas, Moore is too refined to refer to her male protagonist experiencing a boner. It was a simpler, less vulgar time that she was writing for, not like today where we'd get way too much in the way of graphic description with nothing left to the imagination.
And it is in the imagination that Moore's shambleau works her feral-erotic black magic best.
"There was no hair upon her face—neither brows nor lashes, and he would have sworn that the tight scarlet turban bound around her head covered baldness. She had three fingers and a thumb, and her feet had four digits apiece too, and all sixteen of them were tipped with round claws that sheathed back into the flesh like a cat's. She ran her tongue over her lips—a thin, pink, flat tongue as feline as her eyes—and spoke with difficulty. He felt that that throat and tongue had never been shaped for human speech."
She ain't from around here. She's a stranger in these parts, much like Smith himself. The pseudo-cat's claws make her oh so slightly more dangerous, yet they also hint at a cat-in-heat, perhaps...the thin, pink tongue likewise reinforces the symbolism and is another very sensual cue or hint. The creature might be not-quite-human, but she's not shy and very possibly aroused and you know that Smith is thinking impure, immodest thoughts.
"Not—afraid now," she said softly, and her little teeth were white and polished as a kitten's.
"What did they want you for?" he asked her curiously. "What have you done? Shambleau . . . is that your name?"
"I—not talk your—speech," she demurred hesitantly.
"Well, try to—I want to know. Why were they chasing you? Will you be safe on the street now, or hadn't you better get indoors somewhere? They looked dangerous."
"I—go with you." She brought it out with difficulty.
"Say you!" Smith grinned. "What are you, anyhow? You look like a kitten to me."
"Shambleau." She said it somberly.
"Where d'you live? Are you a Martian?"
"I come from—from far—from long ago—far country—"
"Wait!" laughed Smith. "You're getting your wires crossed. You're not a Martian?"
She drew herself up very straight beside him, lifting the turbaned head, and there was something queenly in the pose of her.
"Martian?" she said scornfully. "My people—are—are—you have no word. Your speech—hard for me."
"What's yours? I might know it—try me."
She lifted her head and met his eyes squarely, and there was in hers a subtle amusement—he could have sworn it.
"Some day I—speak to you in—my own language," she promised, and the pink tongue flicked out over her lips, swiftly, hungrily.
One thing leads to another and before you can say 'I told you so' in ancient Venusian, Smith becomes the shambleau's victim/lover/addict. She's some sort of worm-haired medusa/vampire/lamia creature, one of a species that is very, very old and exceptionally well-traveled, and very well acquainted with humanity. She also feeds on human souls in a highly erotically-charged manner that leaves her victims feeling all sorts of guilt, shame. It affects them very deeply and makes them feel very, very dirty...and quite desperate to do it all over again, despite it being (eventually/ultimately) lethal. In fact, if Smith's partner Yarol hadn't come looking for him when he did, Smith would have wound up completely drained and left behind like some sort of dessicated junkie-husk that the shambleau shamelessly cast off like the once-shiny wrapper of a yummy soul candy bar.
Yarol is familiar with shambleau, or at least recognizes the thing and the danger it poses, and he kills her without any remorse or hesitation. To him the shambleau is poisonous vermin, not any sort of half-human paramour. Smith doesn't really recover from his addiction to the shambleau. Instead he's left wondering where he might find another shambleau, despite (eventually) promising to try to kill any other shambleaus he might encounter on the spot. Ha. What's more horrifying, a soul-sucking medusa-vampire woman-thing loose on Mars, or a man who admits his vulnerability, sexual addiction and feelings of violation after having been fed upon by said medusa-vampire on Mars in a story penned in 1933? Ouch. The horror.
Shambleau is a fascinating story, not just for the cowboy style space opera aspects, or the deftly merged atmospheric horror and space fantasy tropes, but for the way that Moore takes a seemingly simplistic space western into the dark heart of mythology and human sexuality in a way that's still a bit shocking and thought provoking today and she manages it without being really blatant about it.
That's some damn fine writing.
H. P. Lovecraft cobbled together his Yog Sothery / Cthuluhu Mythos out of his perceived need to come up with new forms with which to convey horror as the old stand-bys such as vampires, werewolves, etc. were ridiculous, ineffective and just too old fashioned to be of much use any more. He discusses this in his voluminous correspondence and in his essays. The old critters of the night just aren't scary to modern people in the way that they once were. Look at Twilight etc. and you can see the apotheosis of vampires and werewolves who've fallen from being terrifying figures of dread and horror to being cartoonish parodies of their former selves suited for being soap opera sex objects, teen angst magnets, goth superheroes or literary devices for tackling the very meaningful issues of contemporary whatever. Lovecraft substituted gelatinous alien gods, bizarre geometries, hackneyed poetry and gurgling inbreeders, not to mention buzzing interplanetary fungi or hillbilly cannibals (amongst a few dozen other innovations) for the tired old lycanthropes and stylishly groomed undead.
But wait a minute.
The vampire, lamia, medusa thing is old stuff. It goes way back. By transposing it to Mars, Moore managed to revitalize a synthesis of various aspects of the old myths and accomplishes the seemingly impossible task of making it work here-and-now. In her skillful hands, Moore makes the vampiric-medusa-lamia-werewoman thing relevant, creepy and horrifically effective all over again...which kind of flies in the face of HPL's whole argument.
Huh.
But is the horror inherent in Shambleau more in regards to the creature, or to Smith's psychological violation and his shame over his total surrender to its foul, lurid, and very much erotic feeding upon his soul? Or in his realization that given half a chance he would very likely succumb to another shambleau voluntarily, eagerly, like an addict? Wow. That's a very intimate kind of horror, even if it partakes of certain HPL-ish 'cosmic' aspects and takes place both in the future and on another planet.
It really would have been something to have had the final Northwest Smith story dealing with him facing off against another shambleau. How would he have reacted/responded? That one interaction would have summed the guy up better than just about anything else he could ever have done or said.
As it is, we're lucky that Smith's stories aren't all about his obsessive and unrelenting search for another shambleau. But it could easily have become a very real sub-plot through all the Northwest Smith stories. Now that would have been weird, horrific and downright creepy.
Shambleau is included in the Paizo/Planet Stories collection Northwest of Earth, which is definitely one of their best offerings to date. Like Gemma Files of Fearzone.com said in her review/blurb for the book; it's a lot like crossbreeding Clark Ashton Smith with Star Wars, only Moore did it originally back in 1933 and it was her first professional sale at that.
Wow.
The above illustration is from a version of C. L. Moore's Shambleau as illustrated by the one and only Jean-Claude Forest, the creator of Barbarella. It's available over at the Cool French Comics site. You can find it here. Of course the text is in French, but you can always read along in English and look at the pictures as you go. It's classic stuff.
You can find out more about Jean-Claude Forest's most famous character here, here and here. Oh, and those rumors about a re-make of the 1968 cult-movie? Don't hold your breath. But then again, stranger things have happened...
LibriVox offers a set of downloadable installments of an audiobook for H. Beam Piper's excellent Space Viking. You can also download a zipped copy of the book via the nice people at LibriVox, or get it from Project Gutenberg. Just so long as you get it and read it. Piper packs more ideas into a single page than most modern writers can manage in their whole book. Who knew that macro economics could be both Shakespearean and full of high-risk action-adventure? The book remains eminently readable, loads of fun, and filled with ideas that you can use/explore to your heart's content in any SciFi setting. It would make an excellent movie as well...so long as the producers/director avoided trying to 'Star Wars it up', or make it more 'relevant' to modern audiences (read: dumbed down for morons).
Like Herbert's Dune, the original not the posthumous-pastiche-things, there are some intriguing anachronisms at work in Space Viking, anachronisms that are inherently tied-into the setting and that make eminent good sense once you follow along the author's train of thought and the chain of consequences logically following out of their world-building process. Just as Herbert acknowledged the pre-eminent utility and enduring presence of the Knife, so Piper uses submachine guns and not lasers, 'blasters,' or light sabers. This choice is not because of any failing in terms of the settings' technology or military prowess, but rather an outcome dictated by the way the various cultures responded to interstellar travel, and how things developed as they expanded outwards. He was a shrewd character H. Beam Piper was, very shrewd and quite clever.
The faux-medieval trappings of Space Viking, especially in the Sword Worlds that each developed along a heroic pseudo-Scandinavian cultural dynamic, actually makes sense, as much sense as any other derivative post-colonial culture makes any sense after the fact. Technology remains discrete but integrated along practical lines amongst the Sword Worlders. They like the good things in life and they freely partake in the very best that technology has to offer--on their own terms. This sets them apart from the more decadent, welfare-state worlds of petty tyrants and Orwellian beauracracies surrounding them that were once part of the Federation and who've now regressed into savagery, barbarism and bizarre and often untenable political experiments. In some respects Space Viking feels like Robert E. Howard in space, almost. The Neo-Barbarians are a major threat to the established order, but even so, quite ironically, they are also the one real hope that true civilization has of being revived/restored from out of the ashes of the lingering dark age that was brought on by failed social policies, bad choices, entrenched incompetence, mollycoddled decadence and just the hint of inferiority/weakness in the old way compared to the gloriously efficient and superior (fascist?) mode of getting things done that survives, even thrives amongst the Sword Worlders. The political ramifications and implications within Space Viking could serve as the basis of very hearty discussion regarding fascism, tyranny and imperialism...possibly equal to or even moreso than Heinlein's Starship Troopers. At least Piper avoided questionable eugenics and controversial genetic engineering programs unlike Herbert and Cordwainer Smith...though those things could get squeazed into the milieu fairly easily, especially amongst one of the planetary societies that has fallen into barbarism.
One really interesting and quite excellent synopsis/review/critique of Piper's Space Viking has been done by Joseph T. Major. He really does the novel justice as he goes into incredible detail in his erudite and thorough analysis. It's very well done and really takes the novel apart step by step.
Piper's use of Toynbee's and Spengler's theories is well known and you can look into that via careful clicking through the Wikipedia page on Piper and following the digital breadcrumb trail by doing a simple Googlesearch on Piper and Toynbee and/or Spengler. The theories of Toynbee and Spengler might take a while to sort through. Toynbee alone published a considerable number of works based upon his theories. You could look into the Toynbee Convector blog that David Derrick is doing as a possible jumping-off point into the murky, turgid waters of Toynbee's work...or not. I leave that up to you. It is fascinating stuff, if you're into the study of history...
What is more interesting to me right now, is how Piper developed his Neobarbarians, to quote:
"These are homemade barbarians. Workers and peasants who revolted to seize and divide the wealth and then found they'd smashed the means of production and killed off all the technical brains. Survivors on planets hit during the Interstellar Wars . . . who lost the machinery of civilization. Followers of political leaders on local-dictatorship planets. Companies of mercenaries thrown out of employment and living by pillage. Religious fanatics following self-anointed prophets."
What a very Pogo-like moment. We have met the enemy and they are us. The neobarbarians in Space Viking are as post-apocalyptic as you can get, and most of them are reduced to this state by their own actions rooted in fear and ignorance, the two pillars of modern marketing and political demagoguery. Piper fairly heavy-handedly puts it right out there: barbarism is its own reward. We either act to preserve civilization or we bring on the Long Night...hmmm...there are some very interesting political theories interspersed throughout this book, and not just jug-headed crypto-fascist rhetoric either, as some have claimed wrongly. Quite wrongly, I feel. Piper wasn't necessarily advocating a Heinleinian authoritarianism, but rather a quasi-Libertarian-esque policy of enlightened capitalistic self-interest that harks back to Adam Smith, but with feudal overtones. Or at least that's my take on it at the moment. I'll certainly reconsider my position in the light of any truly illuminating discussion or facts that suggest otherwise.
As we develop the Monarchist Worlds surrounding Aegron for the Riskail setting, H. Beam Piper's take on a capitalistic-industrialist-royalist hybrid-form of government (as well as a few other strange political structures) will definitely serve as a guiding light and an inspirational touchstone. The whole commerce-raiding thing that Piper explored in Space Viking deserves to be more fully developed and fleshed-out, and the airships that spread outwards through the Sea Gates from Aegron are definitely ideological heirs of Piper's Sword Worlders in several respects, though not all. At this point anyone writing about any form of futuristic feudalism in a SciFi context is inevitably going to get compared to Piper, Tubbs, Herbert, etc. so it's better to just accept it and do your best to get past the comparison by taking things farther out into unexplored territory where those predecessors didn't go before. At least that's our approach, and our goal, in our personal efforts.
But this is post is about Space Viking, so we'll deal with Aegron another day.
One of the more intriguing aspects of this novel is that Lord Lucas Trask doesn't start this story off as a bright-eyed youngster. He's a man in the prime of his life, coming from a fairly well-to-do Ranching Family. He doesn't 'go up levels' in the course of his adventures, but rather makes the most of his opportunities, learns a great deal about his region of the old Federation, and exerts a powerful influence on things as he re-kindles the fire of Civilization from deep amidst the post-apocalyptic wreckage of the Federation worlds --and eventually his own people's worlds as well--that have slid into the decline of barbarism. This approach was the one adopted for the Traveler RPG. It also resembles the so-called 'End Game' in OD&D quite a bit. Especially once Trask realizes that hunting down his enemy Dunnan just isn't very likely and that he'll need to ambush him instead, and to do that effectively will require a base.
Setting up a base is the start of Trask's transformation from a vengeance-driven man to a leader, ruler and ultimately monarch in his own right. The political intrigues and machinations that develop in respect to his dealings with petty nobles who sieze the planetary throne back home and the not-so-slow (de)evolution of Trask's relationship with the new King of Gram and the implications of Trask's rise in relative power in proportion to his King gets complicated and is a riveting and memorable part of the story.
As Lucas Trask gains titles, recognition and patents of nobility, he also builds up his personal base of power and the economy of his base-world. He plots raids in the early part of his efforts to kick-start the process, to grab some easy capital, and in the course of those raids Trask realizes a very important opportunity that leads into his establishing a network of mutual trade amongst his neighbors. His small effort quickly escalates and the process of recovering the old Federation technology of the neighboring worlds leads to Trask creating a mutual defense treaty amongst his initial raiding-targets, and consequently becoming a major political figure in terms of more real power than the King he has sworn allegience and fealty to...and who now is growing distrustful, resentful and jealous of his success.
Finally the King of Gram goes too far and Trask declares independence...and he has the power and backing of his allies to discourage the King of Gram from launching any retaliatory raids. In fact, it is Trask's allies who begin to prey upon the now declining Sword Worlds. It's an ironic turnabout that follows logically, consistently and smoothly from the situation as established early on in the book. The whole trajectory of Trask becoming a King in his own right is far more interesting than the pursuit of vengeance that set him upon this path in the first place, but that does get settled as well, and in a very satisfying manner.
I can't recall another rip-roaring adventure yarn that delivered as much in-depth and detailed socio-political commentary and that featured economics so prominently and yet readably. Even the throw-away bits of exposition are filled with wonderful nuggets of information that show the incredible depth to which Piper developed his setting. It truly is a crying shame that he decided to end things early, and his suicide leaves a gaping hole in SciFi that will never be filled, not even by Jerry Pournelle.
At heart, Space Viking is built-up around an idea: self-reliance. Both individually and societally. It's just an idea. An idea used in a work of fiction that reflects one guy's opinion and vision and worldbuilding. I'm not sure what I think about the full implications of his set-up, or his conclusions, but I do find Piper's writing engaging and his imagination entertaining and his ideas thought provoking. Not bad for a 'Space Opera.'
Piper also wrote a number of stories set in his Federation, Empire, and Paratime settings, including the much beloved Little Fuzzy...which is very much worth reading. If you've never heard of Piper previously, definitely give Space Viking some consideration. It's easily one of the ten best SciFi novels ever written, at least as far as I'm concerned...
Some interesting H. Beam Piper sites to check out: Zarthani An excellent first-stop on the road to discovering H. Beam Piper and his works, especially the TerroHuman Future History, Paratime, Little Fuzzies and his other works.
Frederick Pohl remembers H. Beam Piper. (Warning: If you don't already know the fate of Piper, this is heartbreaking to read. Heck, it's heartbreaking to read even if you do already know how the story ends.)
and
Thousand Suns: The Piper Transmissions is a supplement for the Thousand Suns SciFi RPG from Rogue Games...which I haven't had a chance to look over in any real depth as of yet. Thousand Suns looks very interesting, and sounds like a lot of fun, delivering an Imperialist/old school take on space opera that is obviously very closely allied to the sorts of fiction that H. Beam Piper wrote. It reminds me a little of the early days of the Little Black Books for Traveler, before the Imperium took hold and it wasn't quite the free-for-all for anyone desiring to design their own SciFi setting any more. That could be a lot of fun.
Speaking of the Little Black Books and Marc Millar's RPG-classic Traveler, you can check out the Traveler Wiki, explore the Traveler Web-Ring, give the Mongoose Traveler a look-see, or join-up at the Citizens of the Imperium forums. The Traveler RPG is very much alive and well and going strong. There are even a couple of efforts at converting it into aFantasy-context RPG, which are interesting and could be a lot of fun.
A Sidetrack Excursion into an Alternate Version of Traveler
If you want to examine the ongoing real-time efforts of a dedicated designer trying to convert Classic Traveler into a Fantasy-context RPG, check out Doc Grognard's blog, it's an idea that keeps re-surfacing from tie-to-time, especially since Mongoose announced the Traveler OGL license. There's just something inherently appealing about adapting Traveler to a more Fantasy-oriented environment.
Lester Dent's pen name was Kenneth Robeson. He invented Doc Savage. There is a decent Bio of Lester Dent at the Altus Press site, as well as here, here and here. (An essential site for Dent/Doc Savage is Doc Savage Organized.) He often claimed to have cranked out around 200,000 words a month and remains a highly imaginative, effective and influential author, above and beyond his trailblazing work in establishing and developing the Pulps in their prime/Golden Age to this very day. Lester Dent's Master Plot Formula has been in circulation for decades and is still recommended to up-and-coming writers by many, many established authors--including Michael Moorcock. (A copy of Lester Dent's Formula is available at the Multiverse Forums here.) This Formula of Dent's is clear, concise and to-the-point just like the man himself, and it worked beautifully for him throughout his career and still offers a very good jumping-off-point for writers seeking to produce riveting yarns, rip roaring adventure, or modern re-tellings of the classic Pulps. The Formula also will serve as a very effective skeleton for stringing together adventures for Role Playing Games as well. It's pure gold and you should get a copy ASAP. You can find a version of Lester Dent's Master Plot Formula here, here, here, here and here. The very best place to ge tthe most authentic version of Lester Dent's Master Plot Formula is very probably the Lester Dent Properties site since they seem to be Dent's literary executors. Likewise you can find a wealth of Doc Savage links at ThePulp website and over at the Homepage for Popular Culture's Doc Savage page. PulpGen is also useful as a resource for learning about the Pulps such as The Shadow, Black Mask or Avenger, all contemporaries of Doc Savage.
A Quick Two-Minute Bio of Lester Dent:
One Observation in Regards to Mister Dent's Formula
Lester Dent says:
This is one opinion. It is opinion of one who believes in formula and mechanical construction, for a pulp yarn. It is opinion of one believing:
1—Majority of pulps are formula.
2—Most editors who say don’t want formula don’t know what they are talking about.
3—Some eds won’t buy anything but formula
Stating that Pulp fiction is inherently formulaic is about as radical and unexpected as admitting that poop Pop music is formulaic. Yawn. No kidding. But the cool thing is that Lester Dent then goes on from this bald-faced admission and spells it all out in no uncertain terms just what to do, and how to do it. He shows how to make a formula really work. In point of fact all writing is inherently derived from formulas, this is the role of grammar and plotting. It's not a bad thing. It is something to be aware of and to turn to your advantage. Mister Dent's observation regarding editors who say that they don't want formula and won't buy formula not knowing what they are talking about is a bit harsh at first, but is essentially true, as far as it goes. All forms of story obey some form of convention and ultimately can be boiled down to a formula. Some formulas are like Elmer's Glue, others are like the Colonel's Secret Recipe or the formula for Original Coke. Some we all know in the most general forms, quite a few are heavily used, abused and over-used. Others are magical things that only a few have figured out for themselves. It's not enough to bow to Formula, one must come up with their own approach, their own secret recipe for what makes the stories you're doing unique, sexy, engaging, and intrinsically Yours.
Formulas are tools. Not excuses. No one wants to see the scaffolding Michelangelo used in painting the Sistine Chapel, they want to see the final product of the process. Same with your writing, your adventure design, whatever. Dent gives you a marvellous structure/scaffolding with which to paint your own stories using tried and true techniques that he knew to work and work very well. Why not give it a shot?
, which is definitely one of their best offerings to date. Like Gemma Files of 
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