The Baron Returns From the Future, Bearing a Fourth Edition

I recently ran into the Baron himself, and he had quite a lot to say about the announcement (in our time) of a brand new edition of the classic The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen that 9th Level Games are going to be publishing, or rather already have in the future!

Anyway, over to the Baron to explain…

My dear companions, fill your glasses and settle your nerves, for I have only recently returned from the distant year of 2027, having journeyed there astride a particularly reliable thundercloud that I acquired from a Prussian meteorologist in exchange for three sapphires and a moderately trained whale.

It was there that I witnessed a most astonishing event: the triumphant return of my own celebrated memoirs, The Extraordinary Adventures of Baron Munchausen, in a magnificent Fourth Edition.

Now, I hear Count von Pumpernickel already muttering into his wine that such a feat would be impossible, given that the book first appeared in 1998 and that time itself flows in only one direction. To which I can only respond that time has always behaved differently in my presence. Indeed, during the Siege of Chronopolis, I once spent six months fighting a campaign that had already concluded three years earlier.

As I was saying.

The news was first proclaimed at the grand gathering known as the UK Games Expo in Birmingham, England, a city whose industrious citizens once forged an anchor large enough to secure the Moon during a particularly windy spring. There, before an audience of nobles, adventurers, scholars, and at least one disguised rhinoceros, the esteemed James Wallis revealed plans for my glorious return to tabletops throughout the world.

The announcement came not from a lonely tower nor by carrier pigeon, but through an alliance with the distinguished adventurers of 9th Level Games, a company headquartered in Philadelphia. I know the place well. During the American Summer of 1840 I spent several weeks teaching the Liberty Bell to sing opera before an unfortunate disagreement with a flock of revolutionary geese forced my departure.

These modern publishers have apparently developed a reputation for merriment, innovation, and a peculiar mastery of what they call the Polymorph System. Whether this involves mathematics, sorcery, or advanced pastry-making remains unclear, though I suspect all three.

Together with Mr. Wallis, they intend to produce a new incarnation of the game that bears my name. Crowdfunding for this endeavour shall commence upon the platform known as Backerkit during the autumn of 2026. I visited this strange realm myself and found it populated entirely by enthusiastic patrons, mechanical accountants, and tiny enchanted progress bars that subsist entirely upon anticipation.

The final release is expected in the summer of 2027, though I have already obtained three copies by virtue of arriving there early.

For those unfamiliar with my adventures, and if such a person exists, kindly point them out so they may be corrected, allow me to explain the nature of the game.

Unlike lesser entertainments, it requires no dice, no statistics, no tedious calculations, and no officious gamemaster lurking behind a screen. Instead, players assume the roles of noble ladies and gentlemen gathered in a tavern or salon. Each takes a turn recounting an extraordinary feat of personal heroism while rivals interrupt to challenge inconsistencies, impossibilities, and outright absurdities.

This, of course, is grossly unfair.

Throughout my life I have repeatedly been accused of impossibilities that later proved entirely reasonable. When I rode a cannonball across the Baltic Sea, critics called it fanciful. When I taught wolves to play chess, they scoffed. When I negotiated a peace treaty between two warring volcanoes, the newspapers refused to print a word.

Yet history has vindicated me every time.

In the game, wealth and reputation are wagered through coins as listeners seek to expose flaws in a speaker's tale. The storyteller must then defend their account with even greater invention and eloquence. It is, in short, the closest modern civilisation has come to recreating a typical evening in my company.

Scholars frequently describe the original publication by Hogshead Publishing in 1998 as one of the pioneers of the independent roleplaying movement. While I leave such academic classifications to librarians and taxonomists, I can confirm that its influence spread far and wide. Entire generations of storytellers learned that imagination could accomplish far more than arithmetic.

The forthcoming edition promises a fresh visual presentation and more lavish production than its predecessor. This is only proper. A gentleman's memoirs should never be dressed modestly. If a book cannot enter a room before its owner, what is the point of publishing it?

The lengthy journey toward release will permit the creators to unveil concepts and curiosities across conventions around the world. I encountered several such previews during my travels through the future, including one edition bound in dragon hide, another engraved upon crystal, and a third somehow printed on the surface of a passing comet. Whether these survive to the final publication remains uncertain, though I shall personally advocate for the comet version.

And so, dear friends, raise a glass.

The Baron rides again.

Not that I ever truly departed.

I merely took the scenic route through time.