Heroism is something I find myself coming back to a lot in these especially trying times. After all, we hear about heroes from time to time, and yet so few of the stories we see are about heroic people. The hopelessness of that reality is hard to fathom even as I sit here contemplating a TV show that has little interest either in the ambiguous and oft-hidden heroisms of reality or the gritty heroisms of fantasy. Record of Lodoss War just isn’t that kind of show.
For those that don’t know, the 13-episode OVA (original video animation) Record of Lodoss War (1990-1991) is the first anime adaptation of Ryo Mizuno’s novels of the same name, themselves based on transcripts (or “replays”) of RPG sessions created by the Japanese gaming company, Group SNE (co-founded by Mizuno). This particular anime production generally follows the plot of the first novel and loosely borrows elements from several others (primarily in its final five episodes). A later anime series (subtitled as Chronicles of the Heroic Knight) ran for double the first series’ length and attempted to retell the story through a more faithful adaptation. This background should give you an idea of the kind of story you’re walking into when you pop in those delicious RLW DVDs (or VHS tapes, if you’re so lucky to own them).
Record of Lodoss War is set on the accursed island of Lodoss, itself the creation of a war between the gods. While the kingdoms and peoples of Lodoss and its neighboring island of Marmo have constantly fought for power over the island, an even greater evil now lurks in the shadows. Goblin attacks are more frequent, mysterious forces now support the cause of Marmo, and an ancient evil waits to be awakened. The story primarily follows Parn, a would-be knight whose family has suffered an as-yet-undisclosed shame and who wishes to follow in his father’s footsteps and become the hero he believes himself to be. On his journey, he is joined by a ragtag group of fantasy familiars: Slayn the stern human wizard, Ghim the rough and tumble Dwarven warrior, Etoh the soft-spoken human cleric, Deedlit the quick-tongued High Elf shaman, and Woodchuck the sometimes-amusing human thief. Together, our heroes are dragged into the battle between overt good — honorable kings in kingdoms of light — and evil — power-hungry lords in kingdoms of darkness — one which takes a personal toll on each of them. There are evil witch demigods, monstrous dragons, goblins and kobolds, dark sorcerers, and more, all vying for control of Lodoss and control of ancient and destructive powers rooted in goddesses and night.
To say that Record of Lodoss War is a bog-standard fantasy epic would be to dismiss what makes this such a compelling show. Nearly everything you’ll find here violates every so-called rule about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and novel writing, especially the occasionally proffered rule that you shouldn’t convert your campaign into a novel. RLW is literally a D&D campaign converted into a novel series — and then converted into other mediums, from manga to anime. Much of that influence is impossible to ignore here. Our cast of heroes is lifted straight from the cliche D&D group cast, as if someone took a D&D stencil and simply followed the patterns. Yet, that cliche means the narrative is unabashedly heroic. Parn reminds us in each episode preview that the mission they are all on is to protect and serve the peoples and kingdoms of Lodoss, a mission for which he sternly tells us he will give his life. That same determined heroism shows in the actions of his companions, even the character least likely to do so (the thief). Heroism, in other words, is the central theme of the series from start to finish.
Kobolds are bad.
In a way, RLW is a delightful counterpoint to the prevailing narrative style of serial fantasy today, something which a lot of anime I enjoyed in the 90s and 2000s relished in. There are clear lines between good and evil. The heroes may be rough around the edges (Ghim and Slayn), unflinchingly virtuous and naive (Etoh and Parn), or roguish wits (Deedlit and Woodchuck), but they are always the heroes and always ready to lay down their lives for others. Meanwhile, the villains are everything you expect of villains: power hungry (Beld, Ashram, and Wagnard), of dubious loyalty (Karla), blood thirsty, and monstrous (all of them). Ambiguity is left for a different story, and because so few of our heroes have comprehensive backstories, it becomes easy for the viewer to insert themselves into the role that best fits their personality or heroic desires. In this sense, its Dungeons & Dragons roots are not a weakness so much as a feature.
None of this means it is a perfect series — or that its storytelling style is without problems. A closer look unveils the skeleton that is the whole. Because RLW lays everything out so plainly, there is little beneath the surface to uncover. There are few ambiguities to interpret, a consequence, I suggest, of a narrative that is focused in the heroism of its cast more than the stories that brought them to this moment. On the one hand, that focus is commendable because the narrative doesn’t get lost in the mire of questionable heroisms — except, perhaps, Orson, a berserker with no control over his powers; on the other hand, that focus means there are few other stories to tell in roughly 6.5 hours of content: this is a story of heroes fighting evil bad things and winning. Fin. RLW certainly hints at and sometimes explicitly tells us about Parn’s past or Ghim’s relationship with Leylia (who is possessed by Karla), but it leaves much of these stories behind, sometimes to its detriment. These are admirable story elements, but they are also easily reproduced and easily forgotten.
There by dragons!
At least, they would be. Except Record of Lodoss War arrived at a particularly important time in anime history and holds a special place in the hearts of many an anime fan. The 90s were a boom decade for anime in the United States, a period largely believed to have sparked the mainstreaming of anime. While anime had been in the U.S. market since at least the 1960s, the 90s were the decade that brought anime from the micro fan communities distributing bootleg tapes and scripts (and proper productions, too, mind) to the everyday consumer, a feat achieved through official distributions of high quality translations, dubs, and more. RLW’s distributor, Central Park Media, was part of that effort to bring Japanese and related media to U.S. (and North American) audiences. Given that RLW still holds sway in some anime circles, I think it’s fair to say that Central Park Media was largely successful.
For many anime fans — such as myself — Record of Lodoss War holds a special place, not because the story is the greatest ever made or the animation particularly stellar (it has been criticized for its occasionally lackluster animation) but because it was one of our first introductions to fantasy in anime form. That the story is also unambiguous and, dare I say, virtuous is just part of the charm. Record of Lodoss War and its fans know what it is, and that is enough to bring a measure of joy for those wanting a trek down memory lane or a reminder of the value of simple and direct heroism in a world where, even and especially in the 90s, such things are hard to come by. And that, to me, seems to be enough.
Shaun Duke is an aspiring writer, a reviewer, and an academic. He is currently an Assistant Professor of Digital Rhetoric and Writing at Bemidji State University. He received his PhD in English from the University of Florida and studies science fiction, postcolonialism, digital fan cultures, and digital rhetoric.
Why would someone make a list of important and interesting works of dystopian fiction? Or a suggested reading list of works that are relevant to those dystopian works? There is absolutely no reason other than raw interest. There’s nothing going on to compel this. There is nothing in particular one making such a list would hope you’d learn. The lists below are not an exhaustive list. There are bound to be texts I have forgotten or texts you think folks should read that are not listed. Feel free to make your own list and tell me about it OR leave a comment. I’ll add things I’ve missed! Anywhoodles. Here goes:
And so it came to pass that I finished up my annual Best of EDM [Insert Year Here] lists. I used to do these on Spotify before switching to Tidal, and I continued doing them on Tidal because I listen to an absurd amount of EDM and like keeping track of the tunes I love the most. Below, you will find a Tidal playlist that should be public. You can listen to the first 50 tracks right here, but the full playlist is available on Tidal proper (which has a free version just like Spotify does). For whatever reason, the embedded playlist breaks the page, and so I’ve opted to link to it here and at the bottom of this post. Embeds are weird. Or you can pull songs into your preferred listening app. It’s up to you. Some caveats before we begin:
We’re nine days into 2025, and it’s already full of exhausting levels of controversy before we’ve even had a turnover in power in my home country of the United States. We’ve seen resignations of world leaders, wars continuing and getting worse and worse (you know where), the owner of Twitter continuing his tirade of lunacy and demonstrating why the billionaire class is not to be revered, California ablaze with a horrendous and large wildfire, right wing thinktanks developing plans to out and attack Wikipedia editors as any fascist-friendly organization would do, Meta rolling out and rolling back GenAI profiles on its platforms, and, just yesterday, the same Meta announcing sweeping changes to its moderation policies that, in a charitable reading, encourage hate-based harassment and abuse of vulnerable populations, promotion and support for disinformation, and other problems, all of which are so profound that people are talking about a mass exodus from the platform to…somewhere. It’s that last thing that brings me back to the blog today. Since the takeover at Twitter, social networks have been in a state of chaos. Platforms have risen and fallen — or only risen so much — and nothing I would call stability has formed. Years ago, I (and many others far more popular than me) remarked that we’ve ceded the territory of self-owned or small-scale third party spaces for massive third party platforms where we have minimal to no control or say and which can be stripped away in a tech-scale heartbeat. By putting all our ducks into a bin of unstable chaos, we’re also expending our time and energy on something that won’t last, requiring us to expend more time and energy finding alternatives, rebuilding communities, and then repeating the process again. In the present environment, that’s impossible to ignore.1 This is all rather reductive, but this post is not the place to talk about all the ways that social networks have impacted control over our own spaces and narratives. Another time, perhaps. I similarly don’t have space to talk about the fact that some of the platforms we currently have, however functional they may be, have placed many of us in a moral quagmire, as in the case of Meta’s recent moderation changes. Another time… ↩
A Tale of First Series: Heroism and Binaries in Record of Lodoss War
Reading Time
Heroism is something I find myself coming back to a lot in these especially trying times. After all, we hear about heroes from time to time, and yet so few of the stories we see are about heroic people. The hopelessness of that reality is hard to fathom even as I sit here contemplating a TV show that has little interest either in the ambiguous and oft-hidden heroisms of reality or the gritty heroisms of fantasy. Record of Lodoss War just isn’t that kind of show.
For those that don’t know, the 13-episode OVA (original video animation) Record of Lodoss War (1990-1991) is the first anime adaptation of Ryo Mizuno’s novels of the same name, themselves based on transcripts (or “replays”) of RPG sessions created by the Japanese gaming company, Group SNE (co-founded by Mizuno). This particular anime production generally follows the plot of the first novel and loosely borrows elements from several others (primarily in its final five episodes). A later anime series (subtitled as Chronicles of the Heroic Knight) ran for double the first series’ length and attempted to retell the story through a more faithful adaptation. This background should give you an idea of the kind of story you’re walking into when you pop in those delicious RLW DVDs (or VHS tapes, if you’re so lucky to own them).
Record of Lodoss War is set on the accursed island of Lodoss, itself the creation of a war between the gods. While the kingdoms and peoples of Lodoss and its neighboring island of Marmo have constantly fought for power over the island, an even greater evil now lurks in the shadows. Goblin attacks are more frequent, mysterious forces now support the cause of Marmo, and an ancient evil waits to be awakened. The story primarily follows Parn, a would-be knight whose family has suffered an as-yet-undisclosed shame and who wishes to follow in his father’s footsteps and become the hero he believes himself to be. On his journey, he is joined by a ragtag group of fantasy familiars: Slayn the stern human wizard, Ghim the rough and tumble Dwarven warrior, Etoh the soft-spoken human cleric, Deedlit the quick-tongued High Elf shaman, and Woodchuck the sometimes-amusing human thief. Together, our heroes are dragged into the battle between overt good — honorable kings in kingdoms of light — and evil — power-hungry lords in kingdoms of darkness — one which takes a personal toll on each of them. There are evil witch demigods, monstrous dragons, goblins and kobolds, dark sorcerers, and more, all vying for control of Lodoss and control of ancient and destructive powers rooted in goddesses and night.
To say that Record of Lodoss War is a bog-standard fantasy epic would be to dismiss what makes this such a compelling show. Nearly everything you’ll find here violates every so-called rule about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and novel writing, especially the occasionally proffered rule that you shouldn’t convert your campaign into a novel. RLW is literally a D&D campaign converted into a novel series — and then converted into other mediums, from manga to anime. Much of that influence is impossible to ignore here. Our cast of heroes is lifted straight from the cliche D&D group cast, as if someone took a D&D stencil and simply followed the patterns. Yet, that cliche means the narrative is unabashedly heroic. Parn reminds us in each episode preview that the mission they are all on is to protect and serve the peoples and kingdoms of Lodoss, a mission for which he sternly tells us he will give his life. That same determined heroism shows in the actions of his companions, even the character least likely to do so (the thief). Heroism, in other words, is the central theme of the series from start to finish.
In a way, RLW is a delightful counterpoint to the prevailing narrative style of serial fantasy today, something which a lot of anime I enjoyed in the 90s and 2000s relished in. There are clear lines between good and evil. The heroes may be rough around the edges (Ghim and Slayn), unflinchingly virtuous and naive (Etoh and Parn), or roguish wits (Deedlit and Woodchuck), but they are always the heroes and always ready to lay down their lives for others. Meanwhile, the villains are everything you expect of villains: power hungry (Beld, Ashram, and Wagnard), of dubious loyalty (Karla), blood thirsty, and monstrous (all of them). Ambiguity is left for a different story, and because so few of our heroes have comprehensive backstories, it becomes easy for the viewer to insert themselves into the role that best fits their personality or heroic desires. In this sense, its Dungeons & Dragons roots are not a weakness so much as a feature.
None of this means it is a perfect series — or that its storytelling style is without problems. A closer look unveils the skeleton that is the whole. Because RLW lays everything out so plainly, there is little beneath the surface to uncover. There are few ambiguities to interpret, a consequence, I suggest, of a narrative that is focused in the heroism of its cast more than the stories that brought them to this moment. On the one hand, that focus is commendable because the narrative doesn’t get lost in the mire of questionable heroisms — except, perhaps, Orson, a berserker with no control over his powers; on the other hand, that focus means there are few other stories to tell in roughly 6.5 hours of content: this is a story of heroes fighting evil bad things and winning. Fin. RLW certainly hints at and sometimes explicitly tells us about Parn’s past or Ghim’s relationship with Leylia (who is possessed by Karla), but it leaves much of these stories behind, sometimes to its detriment. These are admirable story elements, but they are also easily reproduced and easily forgotten.
At least, they would be. Except Record of Lodoss War arrived at a particularly important time in anime history and holds a special place in the hearts of many an anime fan. The 90s were a boom decade for anime in the United States, a period largely believed to have sparked the mainstreaming of anime. While anime had been in the U.S. market since at least the 1960s, the 90s were the decade that brought anime from the micro fan communities distributing bootleg tapes and scripts (and proper productions, too, mind) to the everyday consumer, a feat achieved through official distributions of high quality translations, dubs, and more. RLW’s distributor, Central Park Media, was part of that effort to bring Japanese and related media to U.S. (and North American) audiences. Given that RLW still holds sway in some anime circles, I think it’s fair to say that Central Park Media was largely successful.
For many anime fans — such as myself — Record of Lodoss War holds a special place, not because the story is the greatest ever made or the animation particularly stellar (it has been criticized for its occasionally lackluster animation) but because it was one of our first introductions to fantasy in anime form. That the story is also unambiguous and, dare I say, virtuous is just part of the charm. Record of Lodoss War and its fans know what it is, and that is enough to bring a measure of joy for those wanting a trek down memory lane or a reminder of the value of simple and direct heroism in a world where, even and especially in the 90s, such things are hard to come by. And that, to me, seems to be enough.
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A Reading List of Dystopian Fiction and Relevant Texts (Apropos of Nothing in Particular)
Why would someone make a list of important and interesting works of dystopian fiction? Or a suggested reading list of works that are relevant to those dystopian works? There is absolutely no reason other than raw interest. There’s nothing going on to compel this. There is nothing in particular one making such a list would hope you’d learn. The lists below are not an exhaustive list. There are bound to be texts I have forgotten or texts you think folks should read that are not listed. Feel free to make your own list and tell me about it OR leave a comment. I’ll add things I’ve missed! Anywhoodles. Here goes:
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Duke’s Best EDM Tracks of 2024
And so it came to pass that I finished up my annual Best of EDM [Insert Year Here] lists. I used to do these on Spotify before switching to Tidal, and I continued doing them on Tidal because I listen to an absurd amount of EDM and like keeping track of the tunes I love the most. Below, you will find a Tidal playlist that should be public. You can listen to the first 50 tracks right here, but the full playlist is available on Tidal proper (which has a free version just like Spotify does). For whatever reason, the embedded playlist breaks the page, and so I’ve opted to link to it here and at the bottom of this post. Embeds are weird. Or you can pull songs into your preferred listening app. It’s up to you. Some caveats before we begin:
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2025: The Year of Something
We’re nine days into 2025, and it’s already full of exhausting levels of controversy before we’ve even had a turnover in power in my home country of the United States. We’ve seen resignations of world leaders, wars continuing and getting worse and worse (you know where), the owner of Twitter continuing his tirade of lunacy and demonstrating why the billionaire class is not to be revered, California ablaze with a horrendous and large wildfire, right wing thinktanks developing plans to out and attack Wikipedia editors as any fascist-friendly organization would do, Meta rolling out and rolling back GenAI profiles on its platforms, and, just yesterday, the same Meta announcing sweeping changes to its moderation policies that, in a charitable reading, encourage hate-based harassment and abuse of vulnerable populations, promotion and support for disinformation, and other problems, all of which are so profound that people are talking about a mass exodus from the platform to…somewhere. It’s that last thing that brings me back to the blog today. Since the takeover at Twitter, social networks have been in a state of chaos. Platforms have risen and fallen — or only risen so much — and nothing I would call stability has formed. Years ago, I (and many others far more popular than me) remarked that we’ve ceded the territory of self-owned or small-scale third party spaces for massive third party platforms where we have minimal to no control or say and which can be stripped away in a tech-scale heartbeat. By putting all our ducks into a bin of unstable chaos, we’re also expending our time and energy on something that won’t last, requiring us to expend more time and energy finding alternatives, rebuilding communities, and then repeating the process again. In the present environment, that’s impossible to ignore.1 This is all rather reductive, but this post is not the place to talk about all the ways that social networks have impacted control over our own spaces and narratives. Another time, perhaps. I similarly don’t have space to talk about the fact that some of the platforms we currently have, however functional they may be, have placed many of us in a moral quagmire, as in the case of Meta’s recent moderation changes. Another time… ↩
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