Blog Archives
Alone Time: Suboptimal Moves
I don’t make suboptimal moves on purpose. Okay, that’s a lie. If I’m teaching a game, or a friend seems like they need a win, or the current best move will just piss off everyone at the table, then sure, I’ll intentionally make a less-than-ideal move now and then. Just to keep things breezy. But not when I’m playing solo games, because nobody will get angry because I’m winning or store a grudge for next game or flip my handcrafted game table. When I’m playing alone, there’s simply no reason to take any move other than the best one I can see at any given moment.
That is, until I played Freedom: The Underground Railroad. Let me explain.
They Who Were 8 (out of 10)
It wouldn’t be a Tuesday in February without a look at another print-and-play title from Todd Sanders, or at least that’s what my grandma used to say once the dementia had really dug in its claws. Our previous features of Todd Sanders’ work have mostly focused on his solo and two-player efforts, but today our topic is They Who Were 8 — or They Who Were ∞, if you’re an altcodemancer — which is a four-player team-based microgame about a jealous pantheon of gods as they seduce, give birth to, and conflict with one another. Just another day at the Mount Olympus office for these guys.
It Means “Not for Dummies” in Czech
Not that I’m speaking from personal experience or anything, but I’m convinced abstract games are among the toughest to design. Your mechanics and rules have to be razor sharp, you’ll imbue it with whatever scrap of theme you can manage, wrap it up to look pretty even though some will complain about how it’s “just a board and some pieces,” and then sit back to endure the inevitable goofballs wailing about how they don’t get it.
Now and then though, you’ll get something amazing. In this case, that something is Tash-Kalar: Arena of Legends, the latest from famed designer Vlaada Chvátil, and it’s a monumental achievement of abstract gaming.
There’s No Escaping This Machine
What would you do differently if you knew “Swedish Furniture” would be the cause of your death? How would your life change? I don’t know about you, but I’d probably never go near an IKEA again — and that would really suck, because that’s where I spend my lunch hours.
Okay, that was an easy one. How about “Snowed In”? Or “Bad Blood”? Ooh, or what about “Goat Thong”? How in the hell are you going to avoid that?
A Study in Hodgepodge
By the year 1882, the Old Ones have already ruled the planet for seven hundred years. They sit upon the thrones that may have otherwise held human occupants, and their whims and appetites are law. All of humanity is a plaything, a subject, the victim of powers beyond their comprehension. For the foreseeable future, as with the known past, there is no hope that mankind might cast off the shackles of eldritch oppression, might seize what is theirs and awaken to a new dawn.
That is, until the invention of dynamite.
This is the bleak world of A Study in Emerald by Martin Wallace, an inverted — or rather, a perverted — take on the era of Sherlock Holmes, full of all the real-world romance of anarchism, but without all the unnecessary guilt over exploding royalty. Since they’re, y’know, aliens.
Oddball Anywhere
If you follow Space-Biff! with any degree of closeness, first of all, thank you. One day when I am Emperor, I will remember your loyalty. On an unrelated note, regular readers probably will have also noted my love of portable games, the kind that can be taken on road trips, camping, or long flights, or played in hotel rooms and restaurant booths with equal ease, all without resorting to that infernal Uno.
Uno — *Shudder*
Well, step aside pretty much everything else, because I was recently sent a copy of one of the most transportable games I’ve ever played — so portable, in fact, it doesn’t even need a playing surface. Yes, you read that right: no need for sticky airplane tray tables, awkwardly-held spiral-bound notebooks, or laps. Meet oddball Aeronauts (yes, “oddball” is lower case for some unfathomable reason) from Maverick Muse (which, like everything else on their site, I have no idea how to capitalize or punctuate). It’s pretty cool. oddball Aeronauts, I mean, not the punctuation thing.
Berserk Drives Me Berserk
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.
C3K is K4Me
I don’t believe there’s anyone alive in the world of board games who’s managed to corner the Awesome Light Wargame With Badass Mythological Miniatures niche so well as Matagot, as evidenced by Cyclades being one of the best games of 2009 and Kemet knocking everyone’s socks off in 2013. Proof, and more proof (at least for the Kemet half of that claim).
Now Matagot has put out an expansion aimed at anyone who owns both of those masterpieces. It’s C3K, or the Creatures Crossover Cyclades/Kemet expansion, and it’s… well, let’s take a look.
Cave Eeeevil
How best to describe Cave Evil? Picture me, if you will, seated in front of you; probably on a futon, and likely with my feet comfortably seated atop a gliding ottoman, though the ottoman isn’t strictly necessary. I have both hands raised, about three feet apart: “On my right,” I say, motioning with the appropriate hand, “is the most eurogamey Eurogame possible. Unthematic, spit-polished mechanics, usually about appeasing some local medieval lord. Or often trains.” Now I gesture with the other hand, just to help you keep up. “On the left we have the most trashy Ameritrash game of all time. Theme so thick you can’t breathe without getting a cough. Lots of rules that don’t necessarily mesh into a coherent whole, but instead excel at telling a memorable story.”
Can you guess where Cave Evil falls on my unusually elegant and accurate scale?
If you guessed on the right, with the Eurogames, you’re so wrong you just might be in the wrong place. Are you sure you’re interested in board games? Though to be fair, if you guessed the left hand, you’re also wrong. See, Cave Evil is actually about half a mile down the block on my left, at the grocer I never go to because it doesn’t stock good yogurt.
What I’m saying is, Cave Evil is the most unrepentantly, true-blue, defiantly Ameritrash game I’ve ever played.
Rampage! RAMPAGE! RAMPAUGDGH!
That Pacific Rim was pretty much my favorite movie of 2013 says more (I hope) about the slowness of that cinema year than about my taste in film. On the other hand, it also predisposes me to love Rampage, a dexterity game that puts you in the shoes of a five-story kaiju bent on knocking the stuffing out of a pristine ocean-view city for no other reason than because ocean-view cities are always so dang smug about their ocean views.
Oh, and it’s one of the best dexterity games I’ve ever played.
SPACE-BIFF! 