Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m happy to announce we’re embarking on the first step of a new adventure, as we check out the beloved Record of Lodoss War, a truly distinct artifact of the anime OVA boom. Though it was eventually adapted into a series of fantasy novels by Ryo Mizuno, Lodoss War initially arose as a series of actual play transcripts in the gaming magazine Comptiq, detailing the Dungeons & Dragons adventures shared by a handful of fantasy writers.

As such, Lodoss War is in many ways a product well ahead of its time, a precursor to the podcast-driven resurgence of DnD typified by shows like Dimension 20, adaptations like The Legend of Vox Machina, and even my own ongoing recounting of my first campaign as Dungeon Master. Dungeons & Dragons began as little more than a fantasy-flavored combat simulator, but it has become a flexible canvas for grand acts of myth-making and emotional drama, as different groups of players find their own balance between mechanical rigor and fantastical invention.

All of this makes Lodoss War an interesting cultural harbinger, if nothing else. That said, it’s doubtful this OVA series would be remembered for that alone – instead, it is Record of Lodoss War’s sumptuous art design and iconic characters, including the inescapable elf maiden Deedlit, that have made it such an enduring artifact. Yutaka Izubuchi’s original character designs are lifted into the stratosphere through this production’s strong array of storyboarders and animators, with director Akinori Nagaoka here assisted by such legends as Rintarou on episode boards and Toshiyuki Inoue on key animation, as well as Escaflowne character designer Nobuteru Yuki handling the adapted designs. It’s always a pleasure visiting this beautiful production, and I’m personally fascinated by DnD’s intersection of game design and collaborative storytelling, so let’s not waste a moment longer. The adventure begins!

Episode 1

We open with an anxious orchestral backing and the sound of gongs, staring into an ornately illustrated storm cloud as a voice intones “The Age of Gods was closing. Eternity had come to an end.” Like many products of anime’s OVA boom, Lodoss’ piecemeal adaptation actually adds to its mystique – it comes across like a fragment of a much larger epic, one scroll recovered from a lost saga

We pan across vivid paintings depicting the last war of the age of gods. This style of storytelling through operatic tapestries fits the tone of this historical retelling perfectly, while also falling directly in line with the Lodoss team’s strengths. As I said, this OVA isn’t exactly brimming with fluid animation, but its art design is gorgeous, meaning there’s a ton of individually striking drawings

Just a little movement, like the wafting of air off these avatar’s weapons, does a great job of instilling this sequence with dramatic impact

In truth, the scale of drama being alluded to here doesn’t really echo the course of the narrative to follow; Lodoss is suspended between two narrative traditions, evoking the scale and self-seriousness of ancient legend or religious doctrine, but embodying through its active concerns a more modern, character-focused adventuring model. This tension will prove to work both for and against Lodoss; it’s certainly a component of the production’s larger-than-life reputation, but it will eventually lead the narrative away from its own strengths

This bifurcation is typical of DnD’s early years, though. The character-focused stuff was pretty rudimentary (at this point races and classes weren’t even differentiated), leaving much of the fantastical storytelling up to the DM’s lorecrafting, resulting in lopsided, worldbuilding-heavy dramas

“Thousands of years have since passed.” Yeah, none of this has any influence on the active drama whatsoever, it’s purely setting up this epic, consequential tone. While I wouldn’t encourage this sort of writing if you’re looking to hook an audience, this sort of Silmarillion-style audacity effectively calls back to mythology-focused modes of writing, while also likely inviting nostalgia for anyone who’s spent an afternoon in their friend’s garage listening to them explain the gods and demons of their world

That sense of nostalgia is immediately bolstered by the OP, a romantic, extremely ‘80s ballad centered on our heroes Parn and Deedlit, accompanied by faded, almost sepia imagery of great castles and formidable dragons. There is a tactile, decaying quality to much of ‘80s fantasy that is intensely compelling to me; the billowing dust and practical grime of Dragonslayer, or Labyrinth, or The Neverending Story, or The Last Unicorn. The sense that a great age has passed, that we can now only marvel at its wreckage, that this forbidding world still holds glimmers of dark magic – all just intensely appealing suggestions, tempering the inherent whimsy and discovery of fantasy with a sense of consequence and regret

Fantastic dragon designs, too!

“Prologue to the Legend.” Truth be told, the legend ultimately demonstrates the weaknesses implied by that three-minute opening regarding gods the players never meet; it’s all too distant and large in scale, revealing a DM who was too attached to his continent-spanning war to write a story relevant to his player characters. Lodoss is actually at its best in this first episode, when the party takes on a traditionally party-sized challenge that was likely cribbed directly from a game manual

Six shrouded figures march through a heavy storm, lightning crackling among naked trees as they navigate a forbidding ridge. See, this is how a story normally starts, with a high-impact cold open offering action and intrigue. But I’ll admit, all of my recent, partially DnD-inspired research into classic mythological texts does have me feeling sympathetic to more obstinate, reader-unfriendly forms of storytelling

Lightning briefly illuminates a grand gate into a mountain, as well as the faces observing it. The momentary flashes of clarity only emphasize the beauty of the linework and shading

“So this is the Dwarves Great Tunnel, eh?” As I said, pretty rudimentary storytelling – we essentially begin in the Mines of Moria if it was called “Dwarfville.” Be wary of excessively functional, on-the-nose nomenclature – as in this scene, it can make your world seem small and fabricated, as if this is the only dwarven mine in existence

Very expressive, detailed character art, with each facial structure emphasizing the personality of its bearer. Our dwarf is squat and stoic, our thief is all looping angles, his face like a knobby crescent moon

They are apparently taking a shortcut through here to get to “Wort’s place”

And at last we fully see Deedlit, the most iconic elf maiden in anime history. Design-wise, it’s easy to see why; this production is generous to all its characters, but Deedlit is both gorgeous in stillness and playful in motion, her face contorting into all manner of quizzical, annoyed, and flabbergasted expressions. Her design gracefully marries the ethereal beauty of Tolkien’s elves to the expressive cartoonishness of Rumiko Takahashi heroines, impressing in both the show’s languorous held shots and rapport-building arguments. Also: big elf ears

Ghim is our dwarf, and Parn our human warrior. As I said, this early in DnD, the on-book characterization is basically just an echo of your mechanical identity; elves are otherworldly rangers who inherently distrust cave-dwelling dwarves, etcetera

Suddenly, stone gargoyles take fleshy form and attack! All very “your party marches through the woods until they are stopped by monsters” stuff

God, the animation is so gorgeous as they prepare for battle! Lodoss’ unique aesthetic appeal is partially founded in its refusal to make design concessions for animation’s sake – these party members are as detail-rich as they are glorious in motion

The rest of the party take back-to-back fighting positions as the rogue Wood duels with a gargoyle. Whatever form it takes or embellishments you add, this is always the good stuff: your friends poised in fighting array, arms raised, trusting each other to hold back whatever horrors are coming

The party is saved by their mage’s protective spell, then Deedlit shows off more of her profound expressiveness by fawning over a golden necklace. Lots of personality demonstrated through character acting by all of them here; their fractious personas allow for lots of dramatic reactions

Wonderfully tangled castle architecture leads us towards an old sage in a high tower, who is of course pondering his tomes by candlelight

He is visited by a mysterious woman who asks “has it really been so long since the battle in the labyrinth’s depths?”

This production absolutely nails the texture of epic consequence – everything here feels weighty and historically profound, even as the characters simply play out a traditional dungeon crawl. A key lesson in that, demonstrating how much of high fantasy’s tone is based in replicable aesthetics, as well as the cruciality of authorial confidence. Unlike far too much modern fantasy, no one here is attempting to deflate the seriousness of the situation they’re experiencing, and that goes a long way towards making us treat it seriously as well

Deedlit can’t help but try to claim a shiny object, and thus her and Parn are separated from the group by a floor-shifting mechanism. Those dwarves build traps to last!

A flashback reveals the origin of Parn’s quest, as he declares to his apparent king that he seeks knowledge from the sage Wort regarding the witch Karla. Operatic yet simplistic was apparently how it went for this era of DnD storytelling; we’re not dealing with contrasting yet sympathetic geopolitical motives, we’re getting the Holy Sword to beat the Evil Witch. Granted, that sort of simplicity has its own appeal – you can more generously describe it as “iconic,” a broad-strokes template to allow the party’s character dynamics to really drive the drama. An ideal Record of Lodoss War would likely lean into that strength; this one unfortunately discards the party dynamic swiftly, to its detriment

It is certainly an interesting contrast – Lodoss War’s adaptation demonstrates the highest peaks of animated fantasy visually speaking, but its actual narrative is clearly the work of a tabletop amateur

This method of elaborating backstory further demonstrates the priorities of early DnD; rather than having your characters define their personalities and priorities through the active course of the drama, you are essentially assigned a goal and personality from the start, after which unrelated adventures are inflicted upon you. A far cry from modern DMs’ attempts to have the narrative structure entwine with the player arcs, as demonstrated by stuff like Vox Machina or, well, me

Parn’s king Fahn meets with another, King Kashue

Apparently Parn is the son of a man named Tessius. Lodoss’ issues with clumsy exposition seem to reflect the interests of its DM – there is too much lore relative to the active story, to the point where explanations of things unrelated to the player characters frequently weigh down the drama. Of course, that naturally raises a question of if Lodoss War would be so beloved if it didn’t wholeheartedly believe in its own excessive worldbuilding – its narrative priorities don’t match my own, but I certainly still appreciate the sense of scale and consequence offered by these indulgent digressions

Parn and Deedlit awaken in a subterranean hall. Deedlit conjures a light to reveal the mural above, depicting the war of the gods. I actually do appreciate the simplicity of this origin tale – ambiguity demands audience attention, and you want to direct that attention where it is most needed

Deedlit casually awakens something in a generation of viewers as she chides and makes doe eyes at Parn. I feel like half of this episode’s key animation is dedicated to the shifts in Deedlit’s eyes

“Only a human would let his feelings keep him from recognizing someone’s skill!” Ghim is thus defined as curmudgeonly but practical, well aware that Deedlit is a skilled adventurer

The animators’ love for Deedlit comes through clearly in these cuts of her communing with a fae spirit – incredible detailing of her eyelashes, as well as variations in shading conveying the play of light across her lips. The animators are visually realizing the process of becoming enchanted by another, as later demonstrated through moments like that Reina hair flip from Eupho S1

The dragon awakes. Love how it’s initially conveyed through partial body shots, first an eye, then these legs stalking beneath a great stone archway. One of the great challenges of modern fantasy is reigniting a sense of majesty and wonder in tropes that have become cultural old hat; we are at this point not surprised to see heroes face dragons, but with properly paced setup and the right staging, the inherent wonder and terror of a flying, fire-breathing lizard can be restored

This is one of the many problems facing modern superhero films; there’s just no sense of wonder anymore, because nothing is surprising. The original Superman film offered the pitch “You’ll Believe A Man Can Fly” – until that thought is made wondrous again, little else will surprise people

Incredible Deedlit expression as she accidentally angers the dragon. They’re getting so much mileage out of those elf ears

The rest of the team arrives just in time to rescue them. I love how ungainly this dragon is – amorphous and grotesque, with spines rising out of it seemingly at random. It reminds me of how dinosaurs used to be portrayed in works like Fantasia

Remarkable sequence of cuts as Ghim is tossed around by the dragon. You can really feel the sense of their relative weight, how easily the dragon’s twisting flings Ghim’s body about

With some excellent teamwork, the beast is defeated

And Done

Ah, what an episode! In spite of my various critiques of narrative structure and whatnot, Record of Lodoss War remains an incredible, gorgeous artifact, a testament to animation’s unique power to bring high fantasy to life. This production’s art design feels both nostalgic and entirely distinct, evoking the dark fantasy heyday of the 1980s while building an aesthetic language all its own, a look that feels instantly iconic. Swaddled in such sumptuous visual decoration, the story of Parn and Deedlit feels essential from the start, brimming with character acting charm and propelled by its own absolute, unflagging confidence. In a more fortunate timeline, Lodoss War would have set the stage for a whole damn era of animated high fantasy; as is, I still feel lucky enough we got this marvelous production.

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