Nerding Day: The Book of Vile Darkness (Patreon)

Do you ever feel…Evil?

I don’t, doubling the odds that I am. Thankfully, Book of Vile Darkness helped me imagine a world in which me, my empire, or anything we funded could be called Evil. A stretch, but I’m into high concepts.

The concept’s simple: take D&D beyond the tame playpen of PG evil, into the lawless playground of PG-13 Evil. And miss. Book of Vile Darkness sold a dull edgefest, and delivered a fun guide to playing Snidely Whiplash. Seasoned with a few flakes of vintage edge.

Along with Hell’s phone book. That’s one of nine versions of Satan. If you want stats for a fiddle duel with the devil, you’re home.

The promo milked “mature.”

Familiar.

Whoever pitched RIAA labels for spreadsheets is a brand genius. I hope they survived the Hasbro purge. More people bought this than the book that fixed grappling. You know, the first thing that happens in real and fake fights. Gamers avoided it just to get home before sunrise.

How mature?

See why we’re here a week later?

Stay calm and/or zip up: this isn’t another Book of Erotic Fantasy. For one, Wizards put their logo on it. And there’s nary a testicle curse, testicle monster, or normal testicle to be found. Instead, there’s Evil.

Too much Evil for players.

Good luck. Your friends either have their own adult money, an active rebellious phase, or preteen gamer social skills. They’re reading the book. A player gave me my copy. As for non-DMs reading this sentence, shame on you. What kind of ungood person does that?

Still, this one’s explicitly for DMs, so no game balance soliloquies today. You either tweak numbers on the fly or suck. It’s funny the first time that Jack drowns in a ditch ten minutes into the story. The third time, your friends switch to the latest Baldur’s Gate. Even the Diablo clones.

Especially the Diablo clones. I punched a lot of rats.

But what is Evil?

I was kidding.

D&D ethics start at “don’t be a skeleton” and end with “avoid plotless murders.” I love it like bone marrow, but deep isn’t the first or fortieth word I’d use. You won’t settle Philosophy 101’s annual fistfight.

I’ve called people lazy for two years, but you can aim lower. All a dice book needs to break even is a new class and art by a human. Even a dying toy conglomerate can’t burn that money tree. Well, quickly.

Alright, we’re swinging for the fences. I hope you didn’t expect more dick spells, today we’re learning why US churches fund Ugandan hate crimes. Wait, I forgot our in-joke quota. Why Red Wizards fund Underdark Elf-Hunts. Happy?

I didn’t expect Arthurian Ethics before the talking skulls, but I’m always down to learn or get dumber. Let’s build a red lightsaber.

Consider who? Is Zophas an invention or a reference? Is this what I sound like?

Flawless defense: clowns compare you to math homework, and you bring in a second genre of homework. A harder one, if you have a demagnetized moral compass or no idea what a paladin is.

I’ll get a pencil.

How’d I do?

Crud. It’s Classics all over again. What’s next?

Ha! Can’t fool me twice.

Nice. Back on the moral honor roll.

Shit. It’s salsa class all over again. I can fix this.

What the fuck? I came to mock thrash metal mascots, not get kicked off Gondor’s ballot. If this book calls me Evil one more time, the world will pay.

There, moral dynamite. How long is Athenian trivia night? Can I do Teamworking Day with Aristophanes?

Bang. I’m even better at this than marriage fraud. Ethics and USCIS can eat crow. I assume my shadow diploma’s en route. Or do I steal it?

Either way, I’m getting a few mixed messages. Evil in D&D’s an object. You can throw it like a dodgeball. Or have an allergic reaction. You can fill a ladle with Evil, taste it, add salt, and put the neighbors back in your gingerbread oven. That doesn’t square with relativism’s Wikipedia page. I’m missing something.

Maybe I need a little more guidance. Could we get away from Zophas and the world's unluckiest river valley? Some general principles? Applied Evil, even?

Now we’re fracking. What actions fit a well-oiled mustache? I’m ready for Shell’s orientation pamphlet. Bathe me in darkness.

As Killer Mike foretold! Thank you, king below. Though lying’s a little old-fashioned. Our masters sin loudly and proudly, facing the hard cam.

The other Evil acts ring true. So true, they seem obvious.

Really obvious.

Are we riding the short gargoyle? I’m insulted: I learned to bring despair in freshman year. They don’t let you into Princeton without a referral from your nemesis in blood. The reunion is a drinking contest with the Luthors.

Spells! Right! This is a game. I’m talking about a game.

There’s a lovely centrist flavor to “hell magic is okay in moderation.” Imagine a Baptist parent skimming that. I don’t have to, because mine found this and landed there. I braced for Satanic panic, and she called me a nerd. An early tone setter.

As for gameplay, hell magic whips.

An amateur kills the Turtles. A master puts them on the Freedom Caucus.

The kicker? This lasts three hours, tops. You sober up halfway through the orphanage. Evil is a status effect like Tired or Confused. Tell a doctor you’re Evil, and he’ll send you home with Advil and a campaign donation.

I see why players treated the ban like a disclaimer in a game they’ve paid for multiple times. Though using it does dilute the fun. You spend 18 levels waiting for Eternity of Torture.

An election year, forever.

That’s a unity candidate for clowns, edgelords, and people looking for a “win” button. And a marshmallow test. You could wait for something important. Or unload on the first canvasser to wake you up. That feels extreme in January, but it’ll be my best joke by November.

The opening effort to define Evil’s admirable, especially if this is the longest book you’ve read. I wish sophomoric were less loaded, it ruins a helpful word. I finally get why middle school felt like filler: there’s a space that’s too obvious for adults and too grim for children. We’ll settle for “hilarious.” There’s nothing like lecturing to someone that gets relativism but can’t spell it yet.

If that’s all, I’ll call myself an Evil PhD. We’ll move on to the world’s strongest non–

No thanks.

I’m allergic.

Just a little.

When you’re done laughing at the name, laugh at devilweed making you stronger. Hell Pot’s better for you than normal weed. Elven gyms smell like human dorms.

Quality gateway. Is there magic meth?

Of course, these are professionals. It’s magic meth and heroin. That efficiency distracted countless nerds from drugs.

We’re clocking in at 0.3 McGruffs. Low for a chapter between torture devices and the alphabetical list of demons, but real D.A.R.E. flavor needs that Nancy R disdain. Book of Vile Darkness assumes less cosmic Evil at work.

The encyclopedia half of Book of Vile Darkness delivers. It gets drier than C-Span, so we’re skimming it, but I can’t bury this book. Call it proportionate response, two words missing in the textbook of Evil.

I’m glad we never achieved maturity. Maturity is all taxes, traffic, and trauma. Pray for traffic.

We’re nice and warmed up. What’s the most Evil thing here?

Odd. I thought Dice Satan would dig this. Still, following instructions isn’t very Evil, and he lies by default. On to the ultimate Evil.

Here’s Dice Satan’s main rival: Shittier Satan. No need for Fire Sale Lucifer to stop the party, he’s second most Evil at best. If dad taught me anything, Evil kneels to no man or court order. Forward.

Pfft. Memory is for losers and human rights nerds.

It’s probably a Skeletor. The tone so far’s oscillated between 1983 Skeletor, Extreme 2003 Skeletor, and Mock-profound 2022 Skeletor. What’s the Book of Vile Darkness version? Bowler Hat Skeletor?

That doesn’t seem right.

I mean, it’s clearly a Skeletor. But this drawing’s very FBI-friendly. He is, at best, Evangelical Puppeteer Skeletor.

Ah, shit. I remember this.

Book of Vile Darkness comes with a handful of sample villains. Including the primordial scoutmaster. The SVU World Champion. Meet the world’s strongest child predator.

“Nice try, fucko,” says Ulysses Strawmann. “This is a publicly traded company, purchased by a larger, shittier publicly traded company. They wouldn’t add Catholic Sauron halfway through Evil Con Carne. Take your stupid pranks back to jail.”

“Oh god, it’s the family curse,” cries Ulysses Strawmann. “Is this why newspapers quote me? I thought people respected my voice. That I mattered, and lived in a world without unkillable amber alerts.”

The rest of the book dances on a balance beam. Here, we fall off the edge. Slipping right past Behemoth, into Burzum. Past Goldust, into Seven. Past good Garth Ennis, into bad Garth Ennis.

Obviously, there’s more Dread Emperor content. Once you’ve buried this memory, he pops up in the Cool Talking Swords chapter. His wardrobe hides bonus DreadFacts for attentive readers:

In case your brain’s protecting you: trying to save the kids explodes them. Also: he’s a max-level wizard. Also: his belt turns kids into explosions. Also: he has a space fortress full of reloads/more kids. Also: find a new DM.

Doing the obvious doesn’t go well:

Presumably, your group either dies, ignores this like a Pope, or embarks on a long, awkward quest to find the fabled Wand of Child Services.

In the face of such power, there’s only one option.

Well, a few. You can switch games, switch friends, or try devilweed. If all else fails, see what’s up outside.

I’d cut the Dread Emperor. But I also expect a book this amusing to fall off the balance beam at least once. Book of Vile Darkness is a fond memory, and has the Dread Emperor. Luke Skywalker’s my childhood hero, and courted his sister. It’s a weird planet.

What else would I change? Nothing. At all. Goofball shit like Book of Vile Darkness keeps me from having a heart attack. It’d be a shame to fire almost everyone involved to puff up quarterly reports. Evil, even.

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