#white dwarf magazine

[cannedbluesblog]

Vintage Games Workshop. Founded in 1975 at 15 Bolingbroke Road, London by John Peake, Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson

[manyworldspress]

Game night! Tweddell, cover for White Dwarf #57 (Games Workshop, September 1984).

__________________________________________________ Our shop: https://bookshop.org/shop/manyworldspress

[siryl]

The Discovery lost its head.

White Dwarf, December/January 1980/81

[weirdlookindog]

Snow White and the Deadly Dwarfs

by Esteban Maroto (art) / Gerry Boudreau & Steve Skeates (script)

from Vampirella #39, January 1975

source

[tiger9o0]

500 white Dwarf got this recently really happy to get it :)

[voluptuarian]

13 days of witches: Snow White's stepmother

"Of course it was an apple that tempted a woman." — Ophelia, 2017

Vanity consumes her. All her wealth, her knowledge, her power, invested in the fruitless pursuit of beauty. It eats away at her insides, turns her against the child-ally at her elbow, turns the innocent ward into a rival; it eats at her as she swallows the very meat she thinks is her step-child; even as she hopes to consume the girl's beauty along with her flesh, the thought of that beauty consumes the queen's mind. Fruitless, too, the weapons of vanity with which she first assails Snow White, her trinkets and combs. But her step-daughter is too young and simple-hearted for either to stick. It is not Snow White's vanity but her hunger-- for sweetness, for sustenance, for a mother's love and attention-- and that ancient hunger of Eve's-- for knowledge, for transcendence, for the fruit forbidden-- which finally brings the lovely prey down. But vanity eats at the queen still, shadows her steps, relentless as the pace of time and age. It drives her to seek out new threats, spy on new beauties, inspect in person the fresh-faced princess newly anointed "fairest of them all." In the name of vanity she steps, unwitting, to her judgement and is trapped with the same vain bait that failed her all those years before.

[pretty-little-fools]

[driver270]

"What, me file copyright infringement claim?"

[scansfrommagazinesandbooks]

[prokopetz]

Just to give you an idea of what archival research looks like these days, in attempting to track down the September 1988 issue of White Dwarf for a recent post, I stumbled across half a dozen DMCA takedowns from Games Workshop, a file-sharing service which no longer exists, multiple archives which inexplicably have every 1988 issue of White Dwarf except September's, and a worrying number of false positives because many periodical databases seem to be unaware that the UK and US editions of White Dwarf are different magazines, and they keep mislabelling scans of the US January 2016 issue as the UK September 1988 issue because they have the same issue number.

You wanna know where I eventually did find a correctly labelled scan of the stupid thing? In a random-ass torrent that wasn't even Games Workshop related – it was, like, a collection of Spanish-language sourcebooks for Vampire: The Masquerade, plus the September 1988 issue of White Dwarf, a Czech translation of H P Lovecraft's The Shadow over Innsmouth, and a pirated copy of Policing America: Challenges and Best Practices (9th Ed.) for some fucking reason.

[messenger-of-babel]

Make it Better

Summary: You wanted to be better for him, but maybe better wasn't what he wanted.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Argghhh I had a chance to cook, and chat, I fear I fumbled. Through two rounds of drafting too,. Ah well, I solemnly swear to do more Dick content regardless. 😤

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You smoothed down your clothes, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your forehead was creased lightly in worry, fingers playing with your hair as you tried to get it to sit right. No matter what you did, nothing seemed to look the way you wanted. You didn't like the jewellery you wore, or the way you had done your hair. Your clothes seem wrinkled in the light no matter how many times you undressed to steam them, and the vibrant blue you wore seemed to be wearing you instead. You sigh, head coming to thump against the mirror.

You swear you had tried to do better than this.

It was always the same pit of nervousness that came off of going to one of the Wayne Family Gala's, so deep and endless in your stomach it felt like the rest of you would just fall through. Not only that, but you were also on the arm of one of the heirs of Gotham, one of the princes whose face was on every magazine cover and every second teenager’s bedroom wall.

Dealing with cameras that flashed nonstop, light so blinding you thought it had been daylight the first time you experienced it. A red carpet walk that felt like a vulture's strip, your name being screamed at by faceless reporters, microphones and cameras waving over the red rope stanchions to try and pry your comment from you. It was all so overwhelming, the sounds and lights. You surely would have collapsed the first time, if it hadn't been the comforting weight that slipped around your waist, and the dazzling smile that took the heat off you.

Dick's hand always knew how to keep you grounded during those events, tracing small shapes into your waist and turning you so he could take the brunt of the cameras. Waving to every news reporter and journalist frothing at the mouth for his statement, always offering some upbeat support for whatever the cause was, while they wrote it like the word of God. The same hand that would guide you through the doors of the venue and out of reach of the squabble outside, looking down at you with the boyish blue eyes you adored and white grin stretched across his face.

"You okay?" he'd ask softly, and you always nodded. The tension in your body melted away when his eyes searched yours so earnestly, trying to pick apart if you were lying. His own worry always seemed to dwarf your own, making you smile as you reassured him that you were fine.

You wanted to get better this time.

So, when you arrived for the Christmas Ball held by the Mayor in the Park, you had already prepped yourself. Dick had come to collect you in his car, smile bright and dazzling when he saw you. It was like he saw past all the flaws you could highlight in your outfit, not caring that the shade of blue you were wearing didn't match his tie exactly, and that despite all your efforts your hair refused to co-operate. He made no comment on your jewellery despite how you felt that the silver you picked didn't match with the rest of what you were wearing, or that it clashed with the gold on your shoes. He just opened the car door for you, kissing your cheek as his hand came to the middle of your back where it belonged.

"You look amazing." he hummed; eyes bright as he shut your door for you. You smiled weakly back in response, tension easing slightly. he could tell your anxiety hadn't gone down, evident in the way his thumb drew circles on your thigh, one hand resting there while the other gripped the wheel. Your hands felt cold despite the car's heater going full blast, and your cheeks were numb. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you whole again, adrenaline running through your body like you were fighting for your life. It made your throat close up, worsening as the car rolled to a stop.

"You going to be okay?" he asks softly, hand coming to gently cup your face. You nod, although your smile was tense.

You could do better. This night was going to be fine.

"Yeah. I'm ready." you reply back, the clamouring of reporters and the frantic clicking of shutters were dulled while you were in the car, but you knew it would turn into a roar the second the seal of the door cracked. "We'll make the entry quick; I promise." he smiles, hurrying out from the driver’s seat to come to your door, the paparazzi outside growing ten times louder now that a prince of Gotham has shown his face.

Like the true gentleman he is, he offered his hand to help you climb out from the passenger’s side, broad shoulders blocking most of the flashes aimed your way. You tilt your head up, and your breath is stolen for a moment.

"Good?" he mouths to you, and you wordlessly nod. Illuminated by the flashes of the cameras behind him he looked heaven sent, a bright halo ghosting over the contours of his face and the dip of his cupid's bow. You nod, and he brings you out in front of the crowd. The flashes blind you as usual, but you do your best to send a few smiles their way, waving at a couple of reporters that make you pose together for photos. A perfect couple, that's what you tried to be. Tried to be someone worth standing next to the human turned angel next to you.

You hold yourself together, feeling more and more confident as you walk your way down the carpet, until you’re out of sight. You turn to him now hidden behind the privacy of the event doors, beaming up at him. He reciprocates his smile, hands settling onto your hips as he pulls you close for only a moment. "Getting the hang of it I see," he teases, "I told you; you were made for the spotlight."

He chuckles at the light flush that envelops your features, arm looped with yours as he guides you into the ballroom.

That one comment makes you feel on top of the world, inspiring you to come out of your shell and mingle with everyone, glass in your hand. You felt seen, branching off for conversations and even getting along well with some of his brothers as they arrive. The anxiety smooths out from your forehead, shoulders relaxing and smiles coming more easily.

That was until you saw her.  More accurately, until you saw him looking at her.

Barbara entered the ballroom, clad in a beautiful, deep purple dress and her gorgeous orange hair falling down her back. Your shoulders raised again, fingers tightening on the glass flute uncomfortably.

She was gorgeous, of course. You told her any time you saw her around, since she was still invited to the family dinners every couple of months. Tense smiles swapped between you both, with conversation just polite enough to cover any awkwardness. Were you apprehensive when you started dating Dick and he told you that they were still friends? of course you were. Was it a worry when they had “work” discussions you weren’t allowed to be in? You had cried over some of those nights.  But his smile was charming, and he treated you like you were his earth.

Well, if you were his earth, he was looking at her like she was his sun.

You swear you could see galaxies in the deep blue of his eyes, stars in the smile that fell across his face when she waved at him. Even when she disappeared into the sea of rich Gothamites, his eyes sought her out like an asteroid in orbit. Everything felt like it was collapsing around you, spotlight of confidence cut off and leaving a cool chill across your skin.

Your clothes felt itchy and off colour again, jewellery felt cheap. Your shoes didn't fit right, and your hair looked unflattering in the window reflections. Like Cinderella your clock had struck midnight, except you hadn't even gotten to dance yet. Your stomach rolled, butterflies from before attaching to your sides and cocooning again, going still. Your heart felt heavy, sitting low in your throat and preventing you from calling his name. He looked so spellbound, so full of longing in the way that his lip’s part softly in a sigh.

When he blinks it's like he comes out of a trance and he takes a moment to collect himself again, hand coming to rest once more on your waist. He looks down at you, and you take in his features again. The starlight in his eyes has dulled, his smile still soft but nowhere near as radiant. You had no idea if he realised what he had done, if he was aware of the way he radiated sunlight simply from looking at her. "Let's go get something to eat, dinner will be served soon." he grins, leading you along after your tight-lipped smile and nod. He grinned at the high class he passed, politely navigating them with you at his side completely unknowing that they'd all witnessed his visible adoration. Oblivious himself to the fact that his heart was still in love with the commissioner’s daughter, despite having you by his side.

You wanted to it to all get better, and for a moment it had.

However, as he pulled out your chair for you and you made eye contact with the gorgeous, green eyed woman across from you, the reality sank in that no matter how much you wanted to do better, you would never be able to do better than the memory of her.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@themousefromfantasyland @gstone97 @princesssarisa @the-blue-fairie

1. One morning when Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Sneezy, Bashful, and Dopey awoke, they found they had red spots all over their faces. “Oh, dear!” said Doc. “I rather think we all have spottyitis! It’s very catching, and we shall have to stay in bed until we are better!” 2. Then the six dwarfs heard someone chuckling in the doorway. There stood Happy, holding a tin of red paint in one hand and a paint brush in the other. “I painted those red spots on your faces while you were all asleep,” he laughed. “Ha, ha! Isn’t it a funny joke?”

3. Happy was often playing jokes on the other dwarfs and they didn’t always find Happy jokes very funny. “We’ll teach happy a lesson by playing a joke on him,” they said, and they made a mixture of flour and feathers. 4. They waited until Happy was outside the cottage and then they balanced the mixture on top of the door. “When Happy comes in the bucket will fall and the flour and feathers will go all over him,” laughed Doc.

5. Happy didn’t know that the other dwarfs were planning to play a joke on him, but he saw that the cottage door was open. “Dear, dear.” he said. “All the cold air will go into the cottage and make it cold for Snow White. I’d better close it.” And Happy took hold of the handle. 6. When Happy closed the door from outside, the bucket fell off the top of the door and the flour and feathers fell all over the six dwarfs inside the house. “Glug! Help!” cried Doc. “The flour and feathers were supposed to go over Happy, not over us!”

7. “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Happy when he saw the six dwarfs. “You do look funny!” The dwarfs did look funny but they didn’t feel very funny. But even Snow White had to laugh when she came into the room and saw them.

8. Have you ever noticed that laughter is catching? Suddenly everyone was laughing. “Aren’t we lucky to have someone like Happy, who is always jolly and full of fun!” Snow White smiled as they all tidied the house. from Disneyland Magazine #97, an early reader magazine.

[wizardarchives]

The Wizard by Les Edward (1982)

Used on the cover of Wizardry and Wild Romance by Michael Moorcock, on a White Dwarf cover, a German magazine cover and a French paperback.

[vintagerpg]

Ahhh, Dice Men (2022). This is billed as the origin story of Games Workshop, and primarily covers the period from the company’s founding to the point in 1985 when Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson passed leadership over to Bryan Ansell (though they retained shares in the company until 1991). There’s a little bit about WFRP and Rogue Trader, but that is really a nod rather than anything in-depth. And while there is a good deal of business history here that is interesting, I caution readers from expecting a no-holds bar accounting; this is very much a celebration of a much-loved period of the company’s history and there is little here that is controversial or even a little bit prickly, even. That’s fine! I’m hear for the visual history, honest!

It’s rich! The book starts briefly with the manufacture of board game bits and gets right into the Owl and Weasel newsletter, showing all 25 covers, which is a treat (the version I crowdfunded came with a replica of #1, even)! There’s a lot of material on the import of D&D, as well as big chapters on White Dwarf magazine, Citadel Miniatures, Warhammer and Fighting Fantasy. All full of art and covers and photos of ephemera and even a too-brief catalog of painted miniatures.

The rest concerns business stuff, which has its own charm. Lots of vintage photos of warehouses and offices and folks painting miniatures and folks gathered at the storefronts. It’s all rather cozy, actually.

Highly recommended for GW aficionados, particularly those, like me, who appreciate the early period above all else. My interest whithers pretty much completely after 1991 or so (the Realm of Chaos books are the last to grab me), and this basically gives me everything I want. I’m keen to see what the publisher does with the forthcoming Fighting Fantasy art book (update: it’s fucking amazing), and how this account pairs with Grimdark: A Very British Hell.

[oldschoolfrp]

The Little Sisters of Purification, space marine chapter from Roger Hamlin's scenario "Sunstroke" in Challenge #36, "GDW's Magazine of Futuristic Gaming," 1988, illustrated by Tim Bradstreet.

Early White Dwarf had run many articles about Traveller; here GDW returns the favor in their own magazine that was a successor to The Journal of the Traveller's Aid Society. This "refereed Warhammer: 40,000 scenario for a small unit of Space Marines and opponents" is just one example of the highly imaginative directions players were taking 40K in the Rogue Trader days. This one has a lot of backstory and suggested modeling to run it as written -- 15 space marines from a new chapter, 20 Jokaeros (one of whom actually is a vampire in disguise), and an ancient Slann base on an asteroid protected by forcefields inside a sun.

[exhaled-spirals]

« For centuries, the only way in which to illuminate the mysteries of black holes was through the power of mathematics.

. . . Some of the earliest inklings that black holes might be real came in 1930 when a 19-year-old Indian student, Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar, travelled by ship from Madras to Southampton. Chandrasekhar was headed for the University of Cambridge, where he would pursue graduate studies in astrophysics. It was a long journey to England and, to pass the time, his thoughts turned – as many a young man’s mind might – to white dwarfs, a kind of star he’d become interested in . . . Chandrasekhar wanted to know how big a white dwarf could be without collapsing uncontrollably to a singularity of infinite density. He determined during this voyage that such a gravitational instability would occur in a white dwarf of 1.44 solar masses – a threshold that’s now called the Chandrasekhar limit.

He presented this result at a meeting of the Royal Astronomical Society of London, but his findings were challenged by Eddington, who declared that Chandrasekhar’s ideas – based, as they were, solely on mathematics – bore no relation to the physical world. There ought to be a law of nature, Eddington said, ‘to prevent a star from behaving in this absurd way’. Any claims to the contrary, he added, were tantamount to ‘stellar buffoonery’.

. . . Oppenheimer generalised Chandrasekhar’s results on mass limits to stars . . . A tiny chunk of a neutron star, the size of a sugar cube, would weigh a billion tons. It turns out that our laws of nature do permit stars to behave in ‘such an absurd way’. [...T]hough technology has finally enabled us to glimpse the tumultuous exteriors of these objects, mathematics is often all we have to illuminate those places that our instruments cannot penetrate – including the shadowy realm, deep inside a black hole, that is otherwise obscured by an event horizon. »

— Steve Nadis & Shing-Tung Yau, "Stars behaving absurdly" in Aeon Magazine