Funeral Rites

To: Exalted Funeral; RE: A Stiff Letter Regarding Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme

This feature is a reprint from Unwinnable Monthly #183. If you like what you see, grab the magazine for less than ten dollars, or subscribe and get all future magazines for half price.

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This series of articles is made possible through the generous sponsorship of Exalted Funeral. While Exalted Funeral puts us in touch with our subjects, they have no input or approval in the final story.

A black-and-white photo of an gothic castle turret in ruins. "Funeral Rites presented by Exalted Funeral" is inscribe on top of the image in a rockin' gold font.

To Whom It May Concern,

As the duly designated representative of the Neighborhood Anti-Reenacment-Desecration Society (NARDS), it is my unfortunate duty to write this letter expressing our organization’s deep disappointment with the product so misleadingly titled Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme which was recently released by the unfortunately-monikered Exalted Funeral, from “creators” Brian Saliba and Craig Schaffer.

From the very first pages, this document assured us of its educational merits and intellectual rigor. “First and foremost,” it says, beneath a heading labeled What This Programme Is and Isn’t: “this Programme is exclusively for serious students of History. It is by no means a complete and comprehensive manual for running, with your friends, imaginative, Mediaeval-themed role-playing games derived, extracted, and lovingly ripped off from the works of Monty Python.”

Well, we should certainly hope not! We were further encouraged by another notice posted near the front of the book: “The Programme contained herein is intended strictly for those earnest in their desire to gain a greater understanding of how Britain came to be and those plucky chaps who had a go at the Holy Grail, et cetera. I warn you that should you find yourself, at any point, having a bit of a titter, putting on airs, or generally extracting the urine (to use the modern parlance) out of our forebears and the great sacrifices they made in order to lay the foundation for what would become Great Britain, you shall be subject to sanction, reprimand, demerit, and other repercussions – all of them quite serious, I assure you.”

A British man in a mustard blazer and green tie makes a smug face in a drawing from Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme.

This is exactly the sort of attitude we were hoping for with this volume and, quite frankly, we could do with more of this in our schools, libraries, and rec rooms, thank you very much. So you can imagine our shock at finding that this so-called Programme was, in fact, and despite several assurances to the contrary, nothing more than what the children call a “role-playing game.”

Now, since we must assume that the editors and readers at Unwinnable and any of your allied publications are serious and upstanding individuals, we can further suppose that you likely have no idea what a “role-playing game” is, and so we must regretfully take it upon ourselves to enlighten you. While we must admit that the concept of the “role-playing game” does bear some unfortunate (and certainly only passing) resemblance to actual historical reenactment, in that it involves taking on or “playing” the role of a character who is not yourself, similar to an actor in a play, we must also stress that this is where the regrettable similarities end.

As you can see, this is already treading quite treacherous ground. Such pretending is, after all, liable to stimulate the imagination, and we all know where that sort of thing leads. While we believe that there is significant value in historical reenactment when carried out with the proper spirit of academic rigor and upright character, we are well aware of the slippery slope one embarks upon when such reenactment devolves into “play.”

Sadly, no such upright character is anywhere apparent in Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme. Indeed, like many other “role-playing games,” it actually utilizes vulgar dice, an invention our proud Victorian ancestors were right to be skeptical of.

In fact, taking a page from no less disreputable a source than Dungeons & Dragons – the Satanic dangers of which have been well-documented – this “game” utilizes not just the relatively commonplace six-sided dice that one might find in a board game, should one allow such non-educational frivolities into one’s domicile. Instead, this Programme brings to bear numerous “polyhedral” dice of various shapes and numerical values, rendered in the street parlance of “d4,” “d6,” and so on.

Three hapless knights stand together looking silly. Two nervously hold their swords and one has his hands next to his head like antlers.

Not only are these dice likely to incite children toward gambling and who knows what other sordid endeavors, but they are not even useful as educational tools in elucidating the nature of the Platonic solids, as the dice in Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme include such decidedly non-Platonic variations as the “d14,” “d16,” and so on. Even a “d30!” Whoever heard of such a thing?

What’s more, not content to merely introduce these dice into the equation, the game makes use of an admittedly novel (if degenerate) “mechanic” involving a sliding scale of “Traits” such as Chastity, Decorum, Valour, Wisdom in the Ways of Science and so on. (Before you point out that these Traits are, for the most part, admirable qualities, I would also direct your attention to such questionable Traits as Sorcery, Luck, Glibness and even Animal Husbandry – indeed!)

These Traits are all ranked such that they range from “Silly” to “Serious,” with the associated die changing accordingly. What makes this unique yet repugnant system so insidious is that these rankings can actually change as the game is played.

Naturally, any well-bred person knows better than this sort of frankly communist thinking. A person either is Chaste, Valorous and so on, or else they are not. This ridiculous notion that people actually change as time goes on – and not always for the better – is the sort of radical ideology that is infecting our schools and leading children and the poor to question their betters on matters of manners, morals, and whether or not they deserve healthcare and a living wage. Dangerous stuff, indeed!

A sassy dragon, a bearded snail, a knight with an antlered helm, a sheep with an eyepatch and a puffed-up rooster all stand around looking handsome.

Lest it be thought that we here at the Neighborhood Anti-Reenactment-Desecration Society are old-fashioned or stuck up, however, I should stress now that despite the shocking revelation that this ostensibly educational material was, in fact, nothing more than a role-playing game, we nevertheless endeavored to see our investigation of it through to the end in the hopes that at least some small pedagogic benefit could be wrung from its pages.

We are sad to say that its grasp of British history is as tenuous as its subject matter is indecorous. A few examples:

  • The text makes far too much hash out of the upstart religion of Brianism, massively overplaying its role in global history.
  • Numerous jokes are made at the expense of the Catholic Church, which particularly offended several of our members.
  • There is the borderline blasphemous suggestion that Arthur’s own Queen Guinevere was, in fact, little more than a department store mannequin.
  • Henry Tweeze, who, I am told, was once an undersecretary of some sort, insists that they got both the date and the outcome wrong with regards to the cricket match that was invaded by extraterrestrial Blancmanges from the planet Skyron – though he does concede that they are correct in asserting that no less than the Almighty Himself is a “keen cricketer and one-time captain of Marylebone Cricket Club.”

A large fuzzy bumblebee shows off its round rump.

Obviously, such historical omissions and inaccuracies make this Programme wholly unsuitable as an educational aid for the teaching of anything but ribaldry and hooliganism – both traits which, I’m certain you will agree, our young people already possess in far too great a quantity.

No, it is with heavy hearts that we at the Neighborhood Anti-Reenactment-Desecration Society must advise your readers not, under any circumstances, to purchase the aforementioned Reenactment Programme for any reason save to embark upon the absolute silliest of endeavors with the most unserious of people, as it is wholly unsuitable for any other use.

Further, we encourage you not to advertise such a bawdy, disrespectful, profane, and altogether non-educational publication, lest people get the wrong idea about your no-doubt upstanding and altogether family-friendly periodical.

Finally, it is incumbent upon me to clear up some unfortunate rumors that have been circulating regarding our investigation of this Reenactment Programme. It has come to our attention that certain parties have made unfounded and frankly absurd claims that, during our testing of Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme, members of our organization were observed to chuckle, titter, guffaw or even laugh aloud, assertions which could not possibly be taken seriously by anyone who had ever attended even a single meeting of the Neighborhood Anti-Reenactment-Desecration Society.

The famous Monty Python foot is hollowed out at the ankle and filled with characters from Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme.

It has further been stated that some of our number may have, in the course of rigorously testing this unwholesome product, performed funny walks, put on silly voices, worn ridiculous hats and possibly even gotten sloshing drunk – to say nothing of the downright slanderous rumors concerning some even less savory behaviors.

Of course, any such gossip is utter twaddle, and likely the work of foreign agitators. Those who know the thoroughly upright and utterly respectable members of the Neighborhood Anti-Reenactment-Desecration Society are well aware that we are vehemently opposed to such opprobrious activities and would certainly never allow ourselves to be seen doing them by neighbors who have too much time on their hands for peering over back fences.

Naturally, however, even if these unscrupulous claims were accurate, they would have no bearing on the thoroughly degenerate nature of the publication in question, which we must object to in the most strenuous of terms. (Some of the pictures are quite nice, though.)

Sincerely,
Mrs. Vanessa Feeblecorn,
Secretary and Treasurer of the Neighborhood Anti-Reenactment-Descretion Society (NARDS)

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Pre-order Monty Python’s Cocurricular Mediaeval Reenactment Programme at Exalted Funeral now!

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Orrin Grey is a writer, editor, and film scholar who was born on the night before Halloween. He writes about monsters, movies, and monster movies and is the author of several spooky books, including How to See Ghosts & Other Figments and Glowing in the Dark: Writings on the Horror Film. You can find him online at orringrey.com or follow his Patreon for more movie writing.