The following is a review of the game Let Us Build a Tower by Caleb Wimble. I was provided a copy of the game to review but received no other compensation.
Let Us Build a Tower (LUBAT) by Caleb Wimble is a game that strikes me as an excellent encapsulation of the current state of OSR playstyle. Whether this is a positive or a negative for you will depend largely on your existing feelings about said movement and the many-headed hydra it has become. While reading through this book, I personally found the answers to questions I have had about OSR-style games for years, and for that I will remain eternally grateful.
To start, let's get back to the basics. Let Us Build a Tower: A Mythic Bronze Age Adventure in Babel crowdfunded on Kickstarter in November/December 2023, raising $20,699 from 414 backers on the promise of "an epic megadungeon-building ascent to Heaven full of wonders and hellish dangers through ever-stranger floors." The game as it stands now, ~1.5 years after the campaign's end, is 140 pages that contain all the rules you need to run four different classes of Throne-Seekers through 1,296 possible combinations of rooms and events, an extensive bestiary, and a smattering of details about other cities in the desert sands around Babel. The campaign also funded the Tower Builder App, a product now freely available that generates floors of the ruined Tower of Babel complete with rooms and events.
So what does this all amount to? Well as I read through this book about endless adventure in a crumbling cursed structure of Biblical proportions, I was reminded of nothing so much as one of my all-time favorite games The Binding of Isaac. For though LUBAT's primary game influence is credited to The Gardens of Ynn (which makes sense, the former draws extensively on the depthcrawl mechanics introduced by the latter), this newer iteration has much more in common with the roguelike genre of videogames given the way that the Tower of Babel resets itself every time your Throne-Seekers leave its walls and the overall easy manner with which player characters might meet their end. This combined with extensive religious subject matter and randomly generated twisting maps full of strange rooms made for an obvious connection to a game that I have spent over 41 days of my life playing.
And it was this connection to Binding of Isaac that sparked a sort of divine revelation to me about the nature of this game. For you see, as I was reading through the rooms and events and monsters you might encounter while playing, I couldn't help but ask myself..."So?" They all seemed very gameable and fun to encounter, but they weren't quite adding up to something that felt like a very compelling roleplaying game. All you're doing is going from one room to the next, dealing with or fighting creatures you find there, and collecting treasure.
Much like you do in Binding of Isaac.
The game I've played 41 consecutive days in total.
So clearly I'm not opposed to spending significant amounts of time running through procedurally generated levels. But what has compelled me to play so much of one game but balk at the same in another? Well in BOI, I'm pushed forward by a sense of mastery and mystery. M(a/y)stery if you will (and I will not). Different characters have different powers, there are literally thousands of active and passive items to encounter that can be used in different ways, and there remain several hundred achievements I have yet to unlock. The impulse for mastery is satisfied whenever I manage to complete a run or unlock a difficult achievement, and the impulse for mystery is sated each time I enter a new room and find out what awaits me on the other side (usually an adorably disgusting monster to kill). LUBAT surely has the mystery with the depthcrawl mechanics slowly ratcheting up the strangeness of the rooms and encounters, but the book itself seemed to be missing the mastery. Yes, you can level up your Throne-Seeker with a nicely modular system that gives a surprising amount of customization to the small roster of classes, but that just doesn't hit the spot in the same way that navigating the bullet hell of BOI does.
Now you might notice that I specifically said "the book itself" is missing the mastery, and that is the nature of my personal aha moment (which has been extensively documented in OSR blogs, so this is not an original idea by any means): mastery in LUBAT comes from internal motivation rather than player skill. Why is your Throne-Seeker, specifically, exploring the ruined Tower of Babel? Well there's the obvious: it's there, it's full of treasure, and there's supposed to be a literal stairway to heaven somewhere inside. But what might you want any of that for? What does the treasure do for you? What would you do with the power of a god if you managed to actually enter heaven? The answers to those questions are where *gasp* roleplaying enters the picture, and truly what separates LUBAT from BOI. Throne-Seekers must deeply and sincerely want something to be willing to risk death and divine transformation to get it.
To the game's credit, the "Mythic Shinar" section offers information about a wide variety of cities near Babel and the petty warlords/ambitious sorcerers that fill them, but this section is also the most confusing addition to the game. (It was, appropriately, a stretch goal for the Kickstarter and not presumably part of the original vision.) It expands the focus of the adventure beyond Babel, but most of the game's text is about Babel: its rooms, events, monsters, treasure. Expanding the world beyond it provides some helpful context to imagine the reasons a Throne-Seeker would enter the cursed tower, but it also dilutes the focus of the adventure. The Gardens of Ynn and The Stygian Library, the primary predecessors for LUBAT, don't really bother with explanations for why you might enter them; they're either just there for the exploring, or else they're making it difficult for you to escape them. I don't really prefer this style of adventure, but I must admit that it gives them a certain purity of purpose. You either engage with their puzzle boxes as they are, or you don't.
Here at the end of the review, it might seem silly to say that the main thing I took away from LUBAT is "characters need a motivation," but it was a genuinely important revelation for me. In games like D&D, my impulse to play comes from the story, sure, but also from the mechanical progression. There are spells to pick, cool abilities to play with, and ever stronger monsters to test my character against. Storygames tend to provide upfront story beats and motivations to pursue, and while perhaps a little lighter on the "mastery" side of things, the broad roadmap given means that I have guidelines within which I can explore while still being confident that I'll end up somewhere meaningful. OSR games (for me) fall into something of an uncanny valley between these two: not enough mechanical levers to look forward to pulling and little to no story roadmaps to follow. I still don't think that OSR games will ever be my favorite to play, but I now realize that I was approaching them too passively. I was used to games that bring more to the table and can carry me along with them a bit more, but in LUBAT you'd better be ready to help build that Tower of Babel yourself or it might just crumble out beneath you.
Some final itinerant thoughts about LUBAT that don't really fit anywhere else in this review:
- The bestiary is truly fantastic. The Fallen Ones, Great Serpents, and Legendary Revenants in particular are really dynamic antagonists/patrons/monsters to encounter. Provide information about these early and often to your players, it will help motivate them to keep climbing the tower (I know that it would motivate me!).
Who wouldn't want to meet LILÎTU in the Tower of Babel? |
- I deeply respect the amount of research that clearly went into this game, and I find the combination of Old Testament and Sumerian mythology really compelling. It's just familiar enough to have something to grab onto, just strange enough to be surprised.
- Love love LOVE the spellcasting system: carry around a bunch of Babel Stones that each have one word on them, and combine those words into brief descriptors that govern what a spell can do. It's a system that will likely require some practice to get the hang of, what with negotiation around the power level desired by a spellcaster, but one that can make for highly creative results.