Now that we’ve sprinted past Cyberpunk 2077, I need a new escape. To watch megacorporations feed a civil war, I can open a window. So I’m going back to my roots: tabletop games, our culture’s unpaid interns. In terms of ideas making other people rich, pen-and-paper RPGs are right between Nikola Tesla and black people.
What’s sold and tacitly supported by Amazon these days?
That looks fine. But let’s try a different book. Didn’t Dungeons & Dragons just pump out a Harry Potter ripoff? That could be fun. People like Hogwarts more than each other.
Stop zooming in.
Varg Vikernes? A true modern polymath. Musician, author, and convicted Nazi murderer. He added “game designer” to that crowded resume in 2015. Because shame, like credit, is out of reach for the people that need it.
MYFAROG stands for “mythic fantasy action role-playing game.” For readers new to speculative gambling, that means “placeholder, replace later.” It kind of evokes the fan-favorite GURPS (Generic Universal Role-Playing System) to attract some swastika-free clientele. Or at least the classic failure FATAL, which is its own article. I’m not explaining celebrity arson and FATAL’s “anal circumference” stat in the same piece.
Varg’s game is a race between ambition, laziness, and hatred. It’s close. But with each stock quote pasted above an unedited aryan fairy tale, laziness inches ahead.
First, let’s break down the gameplay. It’s D&D.
I don’t mean one of those fancy games updating D&D’s ossified foundation, or putting it in space. I mean that Varg screencapped an old Player’s Handbook, gave it a pharma name, and called it fresh product. MYFAROG moves most stats to the left and gets rid of all the classes people like. Leaving time for extra race science.
Consider, but make no attempt to comprehend, this linear algebra test from MYFAROG:
It’s a kissing cousin of this old D&D quarterly earnings report:
Don’t sweat the details of these number mazes, and save “racial modification” questions for later. Reading this means you pay for entertainment, and need that energy for A) work, B) dynastic family politics, or C) panicking. Just know that this is very familiar. In a sea of copycats, MYFAROG distinguishes itself with nothing.
Of course, I could be full of shit. Changing “Wisdom” to “Will” and hitting print might be the height of creativity. The author of “Zany Neuromancer” shouldn’t throw stones. Once people remember Mark Twain wrote a fantasy novel, I’ll be panhandling.
Besides, MYFAROG isn’t about the mechanics. It’s about the world. And to understand that bugshit world, it helps to understand Varg. Varg is the person sane death penalty advocates think of. He has a flashy crime, zero apologies, and a legion of like-minded observers.
But he’s also a dork.
Black metal artists (the subgenre, not my dead dreams) stereotypically worship Satan, and that stereotype is true and awesome. Nothing’s keeping me from a Behemoth tattoo but future interviews/family hugs/I have two. The problems start when they drift from Satan.
Take Burzum’s Louis “Varg Vikernes” Cachet. He ignores our father below to worship paleness. Varg spent 15 years in Norwegian prison (about six American) for pentagram-free homicide and arson. Specifically, bandmate murder and church arson. He’s a white nationalist that has exclusively destroyed white people, culture, and property. Life is strange.
Granted, it’s been a while, and he’s served his time. When an artist burns down one church, there are natural questions about forgiveness, redemption, and online reenactments of The Scarlet Letter. But Varg burned down two churches. Just kidding: three. My favorite things are sacrilege, fire, and tremolo picking, and I still think he should’ve locked himself in first.
Given his race war scorecard, it’s unclear what Varg thinks subalterns will do in the Great Uprising. Cut him a check? Trade him for three first round draft picks? Varg’s done more damage to white people than talk radio. The Uprising’s chat is pretty calm these days:
Naturally, his fans buy anything he touches. If Varg kept his first matchbook, he’d be retired. Instead, we have MYFAROG, one of the strangest cash-ins in master history. It replaces power fantasy with white power fantasy.
Though, in Varg’s defense, I’m probably illiterate. We should let him introduce the game in his own words.
See? You’re safe. You know because Varg told you. Just keep the fire escape clear.
The setting’s called Thulê, which is a better name. If he’d called this game Thulê, people without backup copies of Mein Kampf or black stepdads would play. Publishing would just pasteurize Myfarog’s message into quirky trivia, like Warhammer 40k naming a subliterate warmonger after Thatcher.
That’s not a random shot: here’s the fearsome orcish warlord Ghazgkull Mag Uruk Thraka:
This school of satire’s known as “screaming at the television until the cops show up.” Which is my main hustle. Andy Chambers denies it today, because death makes old feuds awkward. Fair enough. I already have a book covering my ass locked and loaded.
My point? Varg isn’t the first guy to use dice as a soapbox. In fact, he highlights MYFAROG’s educational potential:
I love learning! Let’s learn more about Thulê.
Thulê’s coastal Norway without judgy prisons ruining the scenery. I’m down for that, but I’d introduce my Aryan paradise with a little more sizzle. Tolkein set the tone by putting the slam poetry before the textbook. A screaming specialist should care more about aesthetics.
There’s the juice. As far as worldbuilding goes, cheating spouses do better every day. But there’s nothing awful here. Odds are it only gets lighter as this article goes on. Maybe I’m bullying a reformed man for the crispy churches of his youth. What kind of people fled the Ettins?
Perfection. I came ready for all black people to be magic gorillas or whatever. Fine. That’s what I get for
pirating paying lots of money for Dungeons & Darkies. But all black people being pirates or land pirates? That’s fucking awesome. I’m in. Hoist the black(er) flag.
I’m never using real slurs again. Going forward, friends are my Darklings. My drinking anthem is Real Darkling Role Call. Fistfights between grandpas and blind men are Darkling Moments. And no, Thulêans can’t say it.
If the combat didn’t suck, I’d run a blaxploitation campaign instead of writing this. The villain would be the square root of Shaft, Killmonger, and Blackbeard. Sadly, two rounds of MYFAROG take longer than writing and pitching that movie. Wish me luck.
As for Weaklings, the texture’s less fun. While Darklings have a bonus to spear-throwing–which my local gym records confirm–Weaklings have a bonus to…trickery. According to my 5th Edition Monstrous Manual, that’s a +3 dogwhistle for–
There it is.
For the aspiring hatemonger, anti-semitism’s like dribbling. You drill it to a reflex, early and often. MYFAROG wants to give youth a real shot at pro fascism, instead of languishing on the bench like Varg. It’s his way of paying it forward to the next generation. If this metaphor seems odd, my brother’s a big fan of Kyrie Irving. And can’t take a punch.
Eagle-eyed readers might notice Khemetian instead of Weakling. Jewish stereotypes are split between the two. While Weaklings are the cartoony Putty Patrol, defeated en masse by the White Power Rangers, Khemetians are closer to the shadowy coalition your brother tweets about. Okay, my brother, but you know what I meant.
There’s a version of Christianity in here too, which is confusing if you only track Murdoch-brand reactionaries. On the metal isles, some resent Christianity displacing local flavors of theocrat. Fair enough. This is Varg’s chance to win me over, and he botches it by channeling everything I hated about Baptists.
That said, Varg’s worldbuilding isn’t all about race. He covers finance as well.
Varg’s tenth-biggest problem is staying focused. MYFAROG is, in theory, a game. This tidbit of redundant anti-semitism doesn’t help players fight black pirates, or add flavor to their band of identical heroes. The entire point of making Blondes & Barbarians is brainwashing me with mechanics, not getting mad at fictional subprime loans. Gamers and antisemites hate one thing: reading. Spend your words more carefully.
That’s better. This character generator gently encourages you to only play native Thulêans. In fact, it’s physically impossible to roll an untermensch. D&D may have rules for playing giants, talking trees, lobbyists, content-starved podcasters, and endless dwarf subspecies, but MYFAROG lets you choose between five shades of white.
In case it’s not obvious: Thulêans are perfect. They’re honorable sons of Odin from which all honor and guitar solos flow. They have serfs, but they’re cool about it. Every time a Thulêan sneezes, a darkling sees the error of his breathing ways and dives into the sea. The swimming table is a page long, so I’m guessing they can’t.
According to the website, Thulêan greatness is MYFAROG’s best selling point. From the “Why MYFAROG?” page:
Festive. I’ll honor my i-Mockery heritage with some close reading. Note the term “Native European.” It has a certain flavor. Some readers may check their bugout bags by reflex. Your grandfather might ask if “the Krauts are acting up again.” Because some phrases, while technically bland, inspire instinctive panic. Carbon monoxide. Tectonic friction. Native Europeans.
It fits: Varg’s not a literal Nazi in the white nationalist Pokedex. He’s an electric-type worshiper of the Æsir, who most of you know as “Thor and character actors.” Hence the myth in “mythic fantasy.” If those subgenre distinctions seem meaningless, keep in mind he’s a metalhead. Never confuse Post-Blackened Slamcore for Pre-Slam Blackcore. See: the comment below calling Behemoth blackened death metal.
Anyway, that’s enough education from Varg. Who’s ready for mythic action?
God, I could be recapping Oriental Adventures. A stellar HotDogger even sent me a clean copy. That game’s dated in a fun, admiring kind of way. It’s like a stoned cosplayer described Japan to Gary Gygax in a third language. Which, in Gary’s defense, is the history of cultural exchange.
Instead we’re stuck with action-adventure hate speech. And Varg forgot the action.
“It’s a society where leeches are healthcare, what’s wrong with feeding Baldur a few deviants?” There’s a world between Varg’s mythic fantasy—where the traits of noble society are sweet and good—and fantasy where society sucks the normal amount. Lurid or not, Cersei Lannister’s naked jog comes with a tone of “this is sub-ideal.” Varg is a hundred percent on board with every pre-Charlemagne hate crime. For him, Vinland Saga is a fun guy’s devolution into a spoilsport.
It comes through more clearly on polygamy, which is very important for fighting orcs:
The overlap of Akon, church arsonists, and Mormons is small, but extant. You might wonder how this helps you fight skeletons, but Varg can’t hold your hand through everything. Except prostitution. There’s plenty of time for the history of prostitution.
There’s been one society without prostitutes, and it was made of tiny blue Native Europeans. Even they toed the line with Sugar Baby Smurf and Paypig Smurf.
Alright, maybe I’m addicted to wedge issues. Here’s some less loaded nostalgia wank:
We have a new standard for optimism: seeing the lack of toothaches or allergies in cave paintings, and not assuming everyone with them just fucking died. For all the edge Varg built a career on, that is a gumdrops and sugarplums version of Earth. After three years of madness, I’ve never seen vaccines blamed for love handles.
These mythically pointless asides might seem like filler. That’s because of vaccination. Uncuck your immune system and embrace premodern science:
I’m experimenting with subtlety, so I hope MYFAROG’s first twist is coming across. The propaganda game by a convicted Nazi rockstar murderer is somehow fucking boring. Not leftie subtweet “I can’t admit I’m offended” boring. Six-hour mycology seminar boring. Wherever the line between studying and fetishizing the past lies, MYFAROG sprints past it like a darkling at a Burzum show.
Forget basic morals for a bit, and consider tone. Chasing realism (or its edgy understudy) undermines MYFAROG’s mission. The title makes two simple promises: mythic and farog. “Mythic” plays poorly with reminders that your heroes wipe with moss.
I don’t think there’s a Blind Guardian song about that.
It creeps into the combat too. All the prose poems about blonde greatness go for an Arthurian vibe. But you roll to avoid fleeing every turn you take damage. That’s fine for big-picture strategy games, where a teenager’s self-esteem isn’t invested in Space Marine #482. But in this hero simulator, your mythic champion’s favorite spell is Summon Urine IV.
Still, avoid thinking of Varg as a stupid fuck. MYFAROG hits its only real goal: a whites-only table at the RPG club.
In the lore brick, rampaging ettins pushed godless outsiders into holy Thulê. E.g.: global instability sparked tense migration into Europe. Varg melted fantasy cliches into a National Front PSA.
More proof his brain exists: this bit of careful cover. Heroes can battle the Thulêan Klan:
“See? I hate bigotry. You can fight whatever you think bigots are. Run an all-inclusive dungeon crawl with your half-breed friends, while the rest of us fight white genocide.” The same section has four Khemetian “trickster” cults plotting from the shadows.
I’m extra skeptical because the lore’s thin by MYFAROG standards. I know what color spear a darkling carries to steal Thulêan brides on Wednesday (purple), but I don’t know who runs The Gardeners.
That half-assed deflection has a quarter-assed layout. While Varg’s not a stupid fuck, he’s a verified lazy fuck. His moss trivia has zero presentation. That stands out in a game manual, which is basically a vision board for wizards.
Fantasy visuals aren’t free, since even AI art costs dignity. So Varg gives each page plenty of Lebensraum, and fills white space in MYFAROG with cliches. I don’t mean fantasy tropes. I mean literal stock phrases, reprinted without context or purpose in every blank corner of the book:
That’s the first quote, and closest to fucking relevance. Most are pointless enough to make me appreciate on-message xenophobia.
Here’s a few of the non-thoughts filling gaps in MYFAROG:
I cherry-picked for hilarity. It’s mostly shit like “If you fear death, you are already dead” and “Why won’t my son talk to me?” It reflects vast reading and negative literacy.
We have a “book dumb” stereotype of bigots, because it makes us feel smarter. Well, that and well-read bigots bought their way out of Pickett’s Charge. But let’s focus on ego.
Varg’s not book-dumb. He’s memorized heaps of white history month articles, and condensed them into the skeleton of a game. There’s more research and intent behind MYFAROG than any good game you’ll ever enjoy or purchase. Thank Satan he never finished it.
Despite everything I say, think, do, or experience, I’m a silver linings guy. MYFAROG has an interesting idea!
It’s vanilla-flavored karma, passing traits on from dead player characters to properly min-maxed murder machines. You can think of it as the struggle up the ladder of reincarnation, or Rogue Legacy for nazis. Dealer’s choice.
That lone creative spark? Steal the fuck out of it. It’s a tabletop game, no one will stop you. Netflix churns out six World of Darkness shows a year. D&D movies never work out because Hollywood already made them without Beholder puns. My next book is Dark Sun, Plus Headspins. Take Varg’s idea and run to the bank.
Or use the name for medication. Baphomet knows it fits.
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Neku104, who would play a Mystical Canadian if they played MYFAROG, which they don’t.
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