Blog Archives

Crack Carcassonne

These are gods. There are four of them.

Everybody’s heard of Carcassonne, right? No, not the French city, smart-ass. The board game. That’s all we talk about here. Catch up.

Anyway, it’s perfectly pleasant. Put down some tiles, build some roads and castles, maybe there’s the occasional chapel. When you put down your little meeple guys, they earn points from all those cheerful little features of geography. Now imagine that but in real-time, everyone rushing to put tiles down, fumbling over themselves to fill in an open space, while still coming up with a coherent strategy. It sounds like madness, yeah?

Well, sure, it is a bit bonkers. But since this is a game from Christophe Boelinger, creator of Archipelago, it somehow works like a charm.

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C.O.O.L Story, Bro

Why oh WHY couldn't they have put one last period after the E?

As a kid, I was never any good at those Choose Your Own Adventure books. For one thing, I wanted to see every twist and ending the book had to offer, even the ones where my character died a grisly death or suddenly woke up and realized the whole thing had been an elaborate dream. Unless I read every single page, I didn’t feel like it had been worth it. The problem was that I wanted to accomplish this without having to reread anything. And so I dog-eared those books until there were more pages bent-down than in their original shape, and kept my fingers wedged at crucial junctures, and eventually resorted to drawing crazy-person diagrams with arrows pointing between important decisions. Anything to keep from reading even a single page over again.

Years later, T.I.M.E Stories has earned the distinction of being the first board game to prompt the resurgence of my childhood neurosis.

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Cigars, Diamonds, or Bullets

Game idea: play as a member of the Mafia during the 1946 Havana Conference, and try to get the best deal for your family. Maybe get murdered, maybe ally with Lucky Luciano. Make it so. Please.

We number one shy of a dozen, dressed to the nines and seated around the heavily-grained table of Hotel Nacional’s grand ballroom. Through the high windows, propped open to let in the cool salt air, I can see Havana Harbor, smell it, taste it. Smoke curls over the dance floor, points of light glowing as made men chew the ends of their cigars. Motionless along the back of the room, hands clasped and suits crumpled from previous victims putting up a fight, the godfather’s men stand, faces unreadable.

“Don Daniel,” the godfather says, rolling his pig’s eyes in my direction. His mouth is turned down in a frown so deep it’s almost comical. Would be comical if it didn’t mean he might be about to order those crumpled men to drag me down to the harbor, wingtips kicking gravel and fists punching the salt air. Just like he had done with Don Alberto minutes before. The diamonds from the godfather’s enameled cigar case tickle at my breast, itching to be let out. “Don Daniel,” the godfather repeats. “Empty your pockets.”

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The Journals of Patrick Gass

You caught me. I used Patrick Gass in the article title because his name is silly. May his ghost fart at me for eternity.

I’m no particular fan of any period of American history other than the Roaring Twenties, but even I know the broad strokes of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Ah, to venture into the great unknown-to-white-man! Ah, to journey alongside John Ordway and Patrick Gass! Ah, to name Old Faithful after the latter’s dependable flatulence!

Yes yes, I realize that the Lewis and Clark expedition skirted around Yellowstone by a hair. However! It was later “discovered” by John Colter, a member of the expedition who went on to become the first genuine mountain man. When he saw that there geyser, it reminded him of his old friend Patrick Gass, and thus a legend was born. And there’s no way to disprove that.

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Elsewhere: Colt Express

I was actually quite happy to revisit this game, mostly because I was really proud of how good I got this header to look.

Our more astute readers will likely note that I already reviewed Colt Express back in January. But — bonus! — I’ve now reviewed it all over again down at The Review Corner, so if you somehow missed my first try at explaining precisely why I keep robbing the same old train, just mosey on over and I’ll do my best to explain.

The Existential Horror of Dixit

On a magic carpet ride to Agrabah.

There’s something both magical and terrifying about Dixit. And I mean that in a far more literal sense than usual.

Communication is tough, as anyone who’s been in a regular human relationship can attest. Our attempts often fall short. Too much, too little, too vague — even too precise. With effort, you can get better at it. Refine it. Figure out when to use it and what type and how much, maybe even realize that sometimes you shouldn’t use it at all. But even then, you can’t ever quite get there. To the point that everyone will know exactly what you’re talking about, I mean. Sure, they’ll hear the words that are coming out of your mouth, assembled from a limited set of vowels and consonants, but how often will they understand, really understand, what you’re trying to say? Sometimes, maybe. But not as often as we’d like to think.

Well. That’s what Dixit is about.

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Django Detrained

Why hello, Western archetypes. Been a while.

What’s the Western really about? Glad you asked. That’s one of my favorite questions. Ahem. Picture, if you would, the friscalating dusklight, making pillared shadows from a ghost town’s boot hill; the rich purples and scattershot crimsons of the evening silhouetting the lone stranger, Winchester thrown over his shoulder and horse led by a braided cord long worn smooth, the—

What’s that? You don’t have the time for this?

Well then. Fine. Colt Express it is.

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Hyperboringa

I like the character art. Other than orange fratbro over there on the left, anyway.

I’ll come out right and say it: Hyperborea isn’t actually hyper-boring. That was just too good a pun to pass up.

Rather, Hyperborea is interesting. Interesting and also, unfortunately, a disappointment to its mother. She tells people it’s an investment banker.

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It Also Gazes Into You

I can see you aren't interested in any magazine subscriptions, sir. I'll be on my way. Enjoy your Saturday.

Look into his eyes, and tell me what you see. For me, he looks like the trailer-folk of the sea, majestic and graceful, but probably smokes too much for his own good — which, granted, fire probably doesn’t work down there, so maybe he just snacks on too many mollusks or something. He tried the gum a while back, but it didn’t kick the cravings like it advertized. His pod-mother always said—

Wait, what were we talking about? Oh, right: Abyss. Yeah, let’s talk about that.

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Berserk Drives Me Berserk

RAWR vs STOIC. If you want to make your fantasy universe edgy, in place of confiscating all the ladies' shirts, maybe invert this stereotype? I literally weep at the injustices the elves deal out every day.

You might recognize Berserk: War of the Realms as the Russian card game that was on Kickstarter a while back, the one that generated some controversy over its inclusion of scantily-clad (or not-at-all-clad) mythological ladies. You know, the project that eventually included both the original non-clothed and new tiny-bra-wearing art in order to appease both the Artistic Integrity and Nudity Is Wrong crowds.

Or maybe you don’t recognize that at all, because board game controversies are almost always silly like that. It’s one of the things I love about the hobby.

Anyway, Berserk has been out for a little while now, and I’ve been playing it ever since its first release. And while there are still quite a few things I have to explore… hm, that sounds wrong. I’ve been playing with the non-nude cards, in case you were wondering.

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