A couple of years ago David Myers, a media professor at Loyola University, published “Play and Punishment: The Sad and Curious Case of Twixt“. The paper described how Myers conducted a sociology experiment in the City of Heroes MMORPG while playing a character named Twixt. To sum up:

(1) Myers would enter a PVP area in the game and use whatever tactics were legally allowed by the rules of the game in order to win the area.

(2) These included tactics which other players felt were “cheap”, disrupted the normal cross-faction socializing, and/or interfered with non-PVP exploits being used to “farm” the zone.

(3) Other players attempted to force Myers to abandon his tactics by insulting, denigrating, threatening, and/or ostracizing him. (Myers was harassed in the chat channels and forums, expelled from his guild, and even received real-life death threats.)

The conclusion Myers wants to draw from this experiment is simple: “He said his experience demonstrated that modern-day social groups making use of modern-day technology can revert to “medieval and crude” methods in trying to manipulate and control others.”

As he put it in the original paper, “That is, the social order within CoH/V seemed to operate quite independently of game rules and almost solely for the sake of its own preservation. It did not seem within the purview of social orders and ordering within CoH/V to recognize (much less nurture) any sort of rationality — or, for that matter, any supra-social mechanism that might have adjudicated Twixt’s behavior on the basis of its ability to provide, over time, great knowledge of the game system….”

I’m somewhat conflicted.

PLAYING TO WIN

On the one hand, I’m an advocate of Sirlin’s philosophy of Playing to Win. (If you aren’t familiar with it, I highly recommend following that link.) When it comes to purely competitive games — games like Street Fighter 2, Starcraft, Twilight Imperium, or football — those who don’t play to win are clearly engaging in irrational and needlessly self-defeating behavior.

But should the PVP area of an MMORPG necessarily be considered a purely competitive environment?

It certainly can be: For example, the Warsong Gulch mini-game of capture the flag in World of Warcraft takes place in a sequestered game map: The only reason to go there is to enter into a PVP competition.

But the PVP area Myers was competing in presents a more complicated situation: Other players clearly had coherent and rational non-PVP reasons for participating in that area. Myers may have been following the rules of the game, but should that automatically give his agenda priority over the agendas of the other players in the game?

At one level the question really becomes: Why are we playing these games?

And, frankly, I have no doubt that Myers would have found similar responses to his “griefing” tactics even if he had been using them in a completely and indisputably competitive environment. Sirlin elucidates the fundamental nature of scrub behavior, and it’s absolutely trivial to find complaints of “cheap sniper!” or “spawn camper!”  in any number of FPS deathmatches. (Although would the responses have become so severely virulent without the accompanying disruption of a social norm? That’s an interesting question.)

But I think there is a deeper failure of self-analysis on the part of Myers.

TWIXT IN THE REAL WORLD

In his paper, Myers writes:

In real-world environments, “natural” laws governing social relationships, if they exist at all, are part of the same social system in which they operate and, for that reason, are difficult to isolate, measure, and confirm. In Twixt’s case, however, two unique sets of rules – one governing the game system, one governing the game society — offered an opportunity to observe how social rules adapt to system rules (or, more speculatively, how social laws might reproduce natural laws.) And, the clearest answer, based on Twixt’s experience, is that they don’t. Rather, if game rules pose some threat to social order, these rules are simply ignored. And further, if some player — like Twixt — decides to explore those rules fully, then that player is shunned, silenced, and, if at all possible, expelled.

Myers assumes that the game rules should naturally define the rules of society. That society, in failing to live by those rules, is acting irrationally.

To analyze the legitimacy of Myers assumption, let’s hypothetically apply Twixt’s behavior to the real world:

Twixt enters a small town. He sees a woman he desires, so he rapes her. He then moves on to other women and begins raping them, one after another. The people of the town don’t like what Twixt is doing: Attempts to physically restrain or kill him fail (either because he’s too strong or perhaps they are unarmed while he has a gun), so he quickly finds himself ostracized from society. People avoid him, and when they can’t avoid him they try to shame him into changing his behavior.

From Twixt’s point of view he’s playing by the rules of reality: The system is clearly set up to reward mass procreation and a wide “sowing of the seed”. Nor is he breaking any natural laws of reality. In fact, people keep praying to God for Twixt to stop and God never does anything to stop him. That only proves that Twixt is playing by the rules. (Myers specifically uses the fact that the GMs in City of Heroes didn’t punish his behavior as indicative that his behavior was within the rules of the game.)

Twixt is just “exploring those rules fully”. And Myers apparently expects us to consider the efforts of the townsfolk to have Twixt “shunned, silenced, and, if at all possible, expelled” to be “medieval and crude”.

But I think we can all agree that Twixt the Serial Rapist should be punished and ostracized by society.

Myers writes, “If either natural or system laws governing social order in the real world are in any way analogous to the game rule sof the COH/V virtual world, we can conclude that social orders in general are more likely to deny than reveal those laws.” He goes on to say that this denial “seems drastically and overly harsh, even unnatural“.

But the very nature of society is to deny the primacy of natural law. “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law” has been pretty consistently shown to be a spectacularly crappy philosophy (as Twixt the Serial Rapist demonstrates). A healthy society, on the other hand, tends to operate on the principle that “your freedom ends where my nose begins”.

Myers, on the other hand, seems to willfully ignore the fact that his flailing hands are smashing into people’s noses.

IN CONCLUSION

But while I find Myers’ general conclusions regarding the function of society to be wrong-headed, I remain conflicted regarding the specific example of behavior in City of Heroes.

While “your freedom ends where my nose begins” is a relatively solid philosophy in the real world, we obviously set it aside when we sit down to play a competitive game. (Football, for example, would be a relatively boring game if all the players politely agreed not to invade each others’ personal space.) In fact, I would argue that one of the things that makes a game appealing is specifically the fact that it constitutes a safe environment in which we agree to abandon certain social norms.

(And, by extension, one of the reasons why “The Most Dangerous Game” is such an appealing scenario is because it ironically inverts the paradigm again by removing the safety of the game-space.)

But here we come to the crux of the matter: Are MMORPGs games? Or are they digital extensions of our social lives?

That’s obviously not a question with an easy black-or-white answer. MMORPGs create a complex shade of gray somewhere in the middle of that scale, and they create a natural conflict between people who have different opinions about how much they should be played as games and how much they should be lived as a social outlet.

Myers chose to define himself as an unrepentent blackguard: He vigorously approached City of Heroes as nothing but a game space and, thus, refused to acknowledge any aspect of the social aspect of the game. This conveniently placed him at the extreme end of the MMORPG scale, which meant that everyone else in the game was almost guaranteed to lie further towards the social end of the scale.

Which explains why, as one person quoted by Myers said, “everyone hates you twixty”.

Unknown Armies is a great little RPG. As I once wrote in a review, “UA is, I’ll be the first to admit, possessed of some flaws — but it bubbles with such creativity, originality, potential, and brilliance that it overwhelms those flaws.” Unfortunately, it never caught on in the way it probably deserved to. (And it probably never will: Too many other games have stepped in and stolen its stuff over the past decade.)

One of the (many) great things about Unknown Armies, however, was the “What You Hear” section. In the world of Unknown Armies all the half-crazed conspiracies and crack-pot theories and urban legends you’ve ever heard are true at one level or another, but in a way completely alien to anything you might have expected. “What You Hear” was basically a rapid-fire conglomeration of one- or two-sentence rumors that peeled back the mundanities of the world and revealed them to be something horribly different. They were a distorted lens through which the world could be viewed and used.

The great thing about them was that they could be used in any number of ways: Disinformation. Intriguing background detail. Full-fledged adventure seed. Idle chit-chat from a nervous underworld contact. All kinds of stuff. And all of it mysterious and enigmatic and awesome.

Circa 2004, a guy named RemyBuron started a thread on RPGNet for people to post UA-style rumors. Here a couple examples:

There is no state of Wyoming. I mean, have you ever met anyone from there?

If you had been crucified would you ever want to see a cross ever again? The common symbol of a crucifix actually wards off the power of Christ rather than invoking it. That most people believe differently is one of Satan’s greatest successes, just above killing a carpenter by nailing him to a wooden structure.

A few months later I started a thread for UA-Style Rumors: Dungeons & Dragons. Recent free-associating resulted in memories of the thread surfacing out of the deep murk of my brain, and I thought it would be fun to track the thread down and loot the stuff I had posted in it. When I did, I was pleasantly pleased to discover that the thread has been periodically revived over the past several years — with the most recent spurt of activity coming just a few weeks ago (and including someone describing it as the “best thread ever“).

Without further ado, here are my UA-style rumors for D&D (including a couple of new ones that never appeared in the thread). Check out the original thread for lots of good stuff from other people.

Mages were all born centuries ago. In fact, they’re not even human. No, seriously, think about it: Have you ever known a kid who grew up to be a mage? Nope. All the mages you’ve ever known are already adults, and most of them are old. Apprentices? Most of them are duped slaves. The few who can actually cast spells are actually archmages. They’re just putting on an act to keep up appearances.

Dragons aren’t really that impressive. In fact, even the biggest of ’em don’t grow any bigger than a large dog. The rest are just bullshit spun by would-be heroes trying to look important.

Why are there are only nine towns in Ten Towns?

You ever notice how the king is never seen without the queen? That’s because he’s really a living mannequin. The real king died years ago. If you watch closely, you can see the queen’s fingers twitching the invisible strings.

Underdark? There’s no such thing. The dark elves just live on the other side of the planet. (Although it’s true that you can get there through the dungeons — some of them go deep enough, although you have to watch out for the gravity shift.) And they’re not evil. That’s just racist elven propaganda. They don’t like anybody without pointy ears and alabaster skin. They think we’re all orcs.

All those monsters who prowl the wilderness? They were put there by the king. The court wizard makes ’em, and most of them are mutated from prisoners. You can see the lights in the wizard’s tower every night from the rituals. Why does he do it? To keep us commonfolk stuck in the cities and the villages. If we were able to travel safely and talk to each other we’d be free of him soon enough.

The gods are a sham. A couple hundred years ago some powerful elven spellcasters set themselves up as “gods”. Now the elves effectively rule the world, and their duped priests don’t even know they’re doing it. The dragons know the truth. That’s why they’re hunted.

Somewhere in the Duchy of Colbane there’s a village. Everybody there is a mind-slave controlled completely by a lich. Everybody.

Bags of Devouring don’t actually destroy anything. They just transport it to another bag. The most powerful person in the whole multiverse is the guy who owns the bag all the Bags of Devouring empty into. I only know this because a friend of mine told me. I’ve never seen him again.

Look, you’ve gotta stop casting fireballs. They’re dangerous. No, seriously, stop laughing. I mean they’re dangerous. There’s this dungeon you can’t go to any more. It’s full of fire. All the time. Some wizard cast three fireballs in quick succession and they all kind of… collapsed into each other. Ripped open a vortice to the Plane of Fire. I used to go delving with a wizard who was scrying on them at the time. He told me that if it had happened on the surface it would have wiped out the whole world. Seriously.

Liches? Not really undead. In fact, most of them aren’t even that powerful. They’re posers. I heard that a bunch of apprentices who couldn’t master more than basic weavings cooked up the whole “lich” thing as a secret society. They used a couple of simple illusion spells to wow a couple of hick villages and build a rep. Some adventurers managed to take out a couple and, hyped up on their own egos, built up the rep of the Liches even more. But now things are changing: The group is attracting more powerful members. And my friend Jacob heard some nasty rumors about that coup in Covartain last year. Something about “lich-ghouls”…

Have you ever noticed how there are always exactly 6 members in every adventuring party? That’s the number of the Beast. Think about it.

Tell me about it. My friend got hooked on those things. This would have been back before I lost my eye. It got to the point where he couldn’t get through a day without drinking one. Then it got worse. He had to use more and more powerful cure wounds potions to get the same kick. He was downing two or three potions every hour. And then they stopped working altogether. That’s when he switched to inflict wounds. Gods, that’s an ugly way to die…

I find designing these rumors for D&D particularly interesting: With UA you can just look a the world around you and add a spice of oddness or magic. But D&D is innately strange and magical. You can’t just say, “There’s a dungeon with weird stuff in it.” Dungeons are supposed to be filled with weird stuff. Shapeshifters and covens and illusions are all part of the package. In order to get that full UA-style punch, therefore, you need to look a the typical expectations of a D&D campaign and then deliberately invert those expectations. Force ’em to look twice and re-evaluate their preconceptions.

Got an idea for your own UA-style rumor? Hit the comment button.

I was running an OD&D version of Keep on the Shadowfell on Thursday night and discovered that I made a mistake while compiling the PDF cheat sheet for the adventure. Specifically, two relatively important paragraphs got dropped:

The kobold tribe is known as the Clan of the Withered Arm. Once in every generation a child of the clan is born with a withered arm, marking them as the future leader of the clan. The clan’s history in the area around Winterhaven actually dates back more than 25 years to a time period when they were driven from their ancestral lands by Necross the Black Mage. The villagers in Winterhaven, however, were largely unaware of their presence: They survived by hunting wild game and generally shunned contact with the civilized races (who they had learned to fear).

Kalarel’s arrival in the area changed all that. He sent one of his goblin lackeys — a brutish oaf named Irontooth — with a band of thugs to take control of the kobolds. They took the kobolds by surprise, overpowered their leader (a kobold named Issitik), and chopped off his arm. Irontooth now wears the withered arm on a chain about his neck.

This was included in the original posts on the website. It just got dropped from the compilation.

You can download the corrected PDF here.

In the spirit of the recent facelifting I’ve been doing to some badly outdated portions of the site, I’ve re-designed the Bibliography page to be a little bit snazzier and a little bit more useful. Perhaps most notable, however, are the cover shots for all of the books I’ve written or contributed to:

City Supplement 1: Dweredell June 8th, 2007 Buy!

City Supplement 2: Aerie July 1st, 2007 Buy!

City Supplement 3: Anyoc October 20th, 2008 Buy!

There will probably be another revision of the Bibliography coming at some point down the road: The links to the Pyramid articles no longer work since Steve Jackson Games stopped hosting the old weekly version of the magazine; and at some point I really do need to get around to hosting my old RPGNet reviews on the Reviews page.

But I honestly have no idea when any of that will be resolved.

As I reviewed some of the older material while prepping this revision, I realized that some of it feels like a bit of a tease. For example, I wish that the adventures I wrote for Fantasy Flight’s Legends & Lairs were still available. But they are apparently almost impossible to track down. I’ve received several e-mails in the past asking me if I had any extra copies, and unfortunately, no, I don’t.

These were among my earliest published work, and although I still cringe occasionally when I read some of the prose in them, I’m still quite proud of them. The only one I really regret is The Wreyland Serpent, on which I blew my word count by producing something like 150% of the maximum content, which subsequently resulted in most of the really nice detail work I’d included being (rightfully) cut. Basically a complete meltdown by a neophyte freelancer. I frequently feel the urge to call Greg Benage (my editor on the project) and apologize all over again for the mess.

How does something like that happen? Basically you let your eyes get bigger than your stomach. You start with a nifty (but probably too complicated) concept:

The legendary exploits of the Wreyland Serpent have long passed from mouth to mouth, the stories finding their way from one mountain village to the next before finally filtering from there into the lowlands beyond. The dragon described in these legends, however, possesses a double-edge: In many accounts, the Serpent is vindicative, petty, and tyrannical – a terror to those who encounter him. In others, the Serpent is kind, helpful, and forgiving – a boon to those who cross his path.

In truth, the apparent duality of the Wreyland Serpent is due to the confused conflation of two separate dragons – Sul’tara’ha’berthur (the Serpent of Terror) and Al’aereyan’serul’il’taran (the Serpent of Peace) – into a single dragon.

Sul’tara’ha’berthur is a black dragon, born among the foothills of the Tuggorth Mountains five hundred years ago. His parents ruled their domain with an iron fist, and as Sul’tara grew older he also grew jealous of their power. When he was little more than a young adult, he attempted to overthrow and murder them. As a reward for his failure, he was nearly hunted down himself by his parents minions before fleeing west to the Wreyland Mountains a century ago.

Al’aereyan’serul’il’taran, on the other hand, is a gold dragon from the lands of the Talundin Estuary. Nearly three centuries ago, Al’aereyan earned the enmity of a Dragon Witch through actions which have been forgotten by all but the oldest of creatures. As a punishment, the Witch placed a curse upon him – causing his golden scales to tarnish. (Although the result does not make Al’aereyan appear as a true black dragon, the result is close enough that the two dragons can easily be confused for each by those with little experience in the manner.) Shortly after receiving the curse, Al’aereyan left Talundin, and journeyed to the western mountains – where he has spent the past three hundred years atoning for whatever misdeeds he may have committed in his untempered youth.

And then you try to flesh it out with details on the local protectorate; a princess in distress; warring colonies of living silver and gold; details on a mining village; and two separate dungeon complexes…

Which is right around the time that you remember that you can’t actually do all of that in 15 pages, no matter how much you might pride yourself on squeezing a maximum amount of content into a minimum amount of space. But it’s too late now because everything you’ve written depends on all the other parts of the adventure’s structure, and there’s probably a way to cut it and rewrite it, but your deadline is looming and–

Kaboom.

Freelance writing: Sometimes it’s fun. Sometimes its a car crash. Not infrequently, it’s both.

Over the past 20 years there has been a fascinating trend in vampire fiction. Ever since Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles crystallized the sub-genre, there has been a steady and seemingly inexorable trend towards systematically stripping vampires of their traditional weaknesses: Garlic and running water were the first to vanish, but holy symbols were quick to follow. It wasn’t long before they were able to cast reflections and even sunlight was downgraded from an instant sentence of death to a minor inconvenience before eventually being phased out entirely. Murderous, bloodthirsty beasts? Not so much. I mean, sure, they might get peckish once in awhile, but even that hunger is easily sated by a visit to the local blood bank or sucking a few rats dry.

The root for the trend was obvious: Vampires are alluring. They have the handsome, civilized polish of Mr. Darcy with a dark edge of bad boy danger. And this appeal moved them steadily from them villains to anti-heroes to heroes and, from there, to romantic leads. The result may be a rather bland creation with only the faintest glimmerings of moral and ethical complexity that was once inherent to the vampire mythos (the typical vampire these days has all the moral conflict of Superman eating a Big Mac), but the motivation was also crystal clear.

What’s interesting in reading Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight is seeing what is, in retrospect, the perfectly logical progression of the trend: Having systematically stripped vampires of their weaknesses, the genre had no choice but to start giving them new bling.

And thus we end up with vampires who literally sparkle in sunlight while being gifted with various assortments of psychic powers.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Okay, quick concept summary for the three people who have no idea what the Twilight Saga is: Isabella Feyfucker moves from the sunny world of Phoenix, AZ to the cold, rainy climes of a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Once there, she becomes the romantic center of attraction for every paranormal male in a 500-mile radius. Particularly Edward Cullen (a vegetarian vampire) and Jacob (a werewolf).

Stephanie Meyer makes it very easy to dismiss her work as that of a talent-less hack. Her prose is crude. Her plotting is uneven and often nonsensical. Her world-building is simplistic and inconsistent. In short,her books simply exude a sense of either carelessness or incompetence or both.

For example, in New Moon Meyer very specifically establishes that it’s the latter half of February (within one or two weeks of Valentine’s Day). Bella wants to sneak out of the house to go hiking and she’s excited when she discovers that her father is planning to go ice-fishing on the river. So far, everything tracks. But when she reaches the woods:

The forest was full of life today, all the little creatures enjoying the momentary dryness. Somehow, though, even with the birds chirping and cawing, the insects buzzing noisily around my head, and the occasional scurry of the field mice through the shrubs, the forest seemed creepier today…

Well, of course it seems creepier! You’ve left your father ice-fishing in the middle of winter and entered some sort of Twilight Zone Narnia featuring eternal summer!

A few paragraphs later Meyer has added “chest-high ferns” (a well-known winter growth) and a “bubbling stream” (which has inexplicably failed to join the river in freezing over) just to maximize the surrealism of the scene.

In the big picture, this continuity gaffe is of relatively minor importance. But Meyer strews this stuff all over her apparently unrevised, unedited, and unread manuscript. And it’s not just the minor stuff, either. Major plot points often fall prey to the same traps.

It was particularly interesting to watch the Twilight movie after reading the books: Meyer’s fanbase screamed bloody murder about a number of minor changes which had “ruined the movie”, but ironically these changes almost universally fixed the fundamental flaws in Meyer’s novel.

For example, in the novel Meyer gets about four-fifths of the way through the book before suddenly realizing that she doesn’t have an ending. To “solve” this problem she has three vampires show up out of nowhere. One of them decides to harass Bella just ’cause he can, Edward kills him, and… that’s it. End of novel. These vampires have no connection to the rest of the narrative, but apparently because there’s a fight the story can be over.

The film doesn’t change much: It just adds a couple of extra scenes in the first three-quarters of the movie to establish these evil vampires as a persistent background threat. But the result is a narrative which actually holds together instead of falling apart.

The film is also remarkably successful in turning Bella’s classmates — who are uniformly bland, forgettable cardboard in Meyer’s novels (to the degree that they quietly fade away in the sequels) — into quirky, memorable characters.

I bring this up only to demonstrate how little effort (or skill) it would take on Meyer’s part to fix many of the most egregious flaws in these novels.

THE SILVER LINING

So if these books are so painfully flawed, why did I keep reading them?

Because Meyer is not, in fact, a talent-less hack. To the contrary: She has one particularly exceptional talent that I feel fairly safe in saying is the reason she’s now a multi-millionaire and her books have become cultural icons.

While Meyer’s secondary characters are nothing more than interchangeable cardboard, Meyer’s handling of her central cast of characters is adept. I would even describe it as gifted. Bella, Edward, and Jacob leap off the page. They breathe. They live.

Are they foolish? Unstable? Irrational?

Absolutely. And it’s easy to make fun of them for that. But there are plenty of foolish, unstable, and irrational people in the real world. Meyer simply captures them in narrative form and then, through the application of the supernatural, she adoitly elevates these all-too-human characters into a mythical plane.

Are those supernatural elements nothing more than a cliched reworking of the vampire-and-werewolf cultural gestalt created by White Wolf’s World of Darkness? Sure. But it doesn’t matter. The mythic elements of Meyer’s milieu don’t need to be particularly original in order to heighten the reality of her characters.

So, basically, you have the powerful alchemy of teen romance with the dial cranked up to 11. That, by itself, is basically paint-by-numbers. What can’t be trivially duplicated is the potent reality of Meyer’s characters. With that added to the mix, the result is explosive.

It’s a pity that this gemstone is mired in the muck of Meyer’s weakness as a writer, but the jewel itself glitters no less brightly. And it’s not surprising to me that these books were able to capture the imagination of a generation of teenage girls.

THE DEEPER PROBLEMS

There has always been something vaguely disturbing in the sub-genre of vampire romances: Holding up the “dangerous man that I can change through the power of love” as some sort of romantic ideal is certainly a popular trope, but not a healthy one. On the other hand, while Meyer doesn’t precisely deal with these issues, she does manage to avoid some of the thornier patches of the sub-genre.

But where the series gets particularly creepy are the sequels. In New Moon, Edward suddenly embraces hardcore emotional abuse as his modus operandi. And then, in Eclipse — as if Meyer were checking off abusive relationships on a To Do list — Edward goes for full-on stalker. Whether it’s literally disabling Bella’s car so that she can’t go where she wants to go or the constant variants of “I only hurt you because I love you, baby” that he mouths, the warning sirens were screaming.

As if to emphasize Edward as a co-dependent, abusive stalker, Meyer simultaneously establishes a second love interest in the werewolf Jacob. Jacob is everything Edward isn’t: Emotionally available. Stable. Supportive. And, thus, completely rejected by Bella as anything more than a good friend (who she can’t see because her jealous boyfriend forbids it).

In Breaking Dawn, the abusive nature of the relationship drains away. But while it made for a more enjoyable reading experience, in retrospect it’s equally creepy: The subtext appears to be that marriage is a magical cure-all. Having problems with an abusive boyfriend? Get married and he’ll start treating you better!

Ironically, Meyer’s strengths as an author only serve to make the Edward-Bella relationship even creepier. She writes Bella with an absolute truthfulness, detail, and depth that seems to fully capture the psychological mire of someone caught in an abusive relationship. In other circumstances, one could hold this up as a literary triumph. But the narrative never presents itself as a the gut-wrenching tale of a girl trapped in a co-dependent tragedy. Meyer is writing a self-destructive horror story, but she thinks she’s writing about exemplary True Love. It’s sad, disturbing, and rather disgusting.

GRADES:

TWILIGHT: C-
NEW MOON: C
ECLIPSE: C
BREAKING DAWN: B-

Stephanie Meyers
Published: 2005 / 2006/ 2007 / 2008
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Cover Price: $10.99
ISBN: 0316038377 / 0316075655 / 031608736X / 031606792X
Buy Now!