Dark Tower rises over the land - and Christmas lists - in February 1981
The snow lay thick on the streets of New York that February in 1981, the kind of wet, clinging snow that turns the city into something older, something that remembers when the world was simpler and crueler at the same time. The North American International Toy Fair had opened its doors at the Sheraton Centre and the toy people were there in force—men in sharp suits with smiles like switchblades, women with hair teased high enough to scrape the low ceilings, all of them moving through the aisles like pilgrims who had come to worship at the altar of plastic and profit. And Milton Bradley had brought a god. A plastic one, sure, but a god nonetheless. They called it Dark Tower . A hulking, obsidian monolith, studded with cryptic symbols, looming over a round board divided into four kingdoms—Brass, Iron, Silver, Gold—like the four quarters of a dying heart. The tower itself was plastic, sure, but it felt like stone carved by hands that didn't belong to this world. It rotated with a low,...