Blog Archives
Musée de Deckbuilder
Not every game is about the same thing. Take deck-builders. In many cases, maybe even most cases, deck-builders are about merciless optimization and combo-building. You start with a deck of cards. One by one, you add better cards and prune away the dead weight. Sometimes your final deck will be even leaner than what you began with. At the very least, it will perform to greater heights.
Ta-Te Wu’s Art Decko is a deck-builder, but that doesn’t mean it’s about either optimization or combos. Rather, it’s about process. Flow. The act of shuffling and moving cards, watching those cards grow in value and power, and then shuffling and moving them again. It’s a peculiar sort of deck-builder. It might be too clever for its own good.
Risa Ascending
I wasn’t expecting to play Star Trek: Ascendancy again anytime soon. We played it last year for my sister-in-law’s birthday. She’s a Trekkie. Or a Trekker. Whichever one won the convention wars. It was a big seven-player session. We counted ourselves satisfied with what in 2016 and again in 2017 I called one of the few games to really understand Star Trek.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard from Gale Force Nine. The last two expansions were coming my way. “This takes the faction count up to ten,” they said. “Time to arrange another massive session with your friends.” They didn’t say that last part. With a game this big, it’s implied.
So that’s what we did. Out of nine possible seats, we filled eight. With some fast-forwarding of the early turns, and minus lunch, the whole thing lasted six hours. And while we had a grand time (for the most part), it felt not unlike watching the last episode of The Next Generation as a kid again. A fitting sendoff, and all the more bittersweet for it. There will be other Star Treks. But this one is finished. Let’s talk about the finale.
Gentlemen of Fortune
Pirates are all the rage. Something must be in the water. Brine. Rum. Scurvy.
Dead Reckoning is John D. Clair’s attempt to leach the lemon juice from our water supply. Don’t take that as an insult. It’s a scurvy joke. Because scurvy is caused by vitamin-C deficiency. To keep their gums from becoming bleeding pits, sailors would drink lemon juice. It’s also where we get “limey,” because the British Navy forced its sailors to drink lime juice, except lime juice doesn’t have enough vitamin-C to offset scurvy, so ha ha, the British Navy was drinking lime juice for nothing.
What were we talking about? Oh, right. Dead Reckoning.
Fluss und See: A Look at Weimar
Even as a prototype, Matthias Cramer’s Weimar is a sprawling work. Taking cues from Mark Herman’s Churchill and covering the entire span of the short-lived Weimar Republic, how could it not be? This is history that shaped everything about the following century. Few have bothered to learn anything about it.
Before we begin, it should be noted that I’ve played Weimar all of once. Normally my policy is three plays before I’ll write anything, even for previews. With only eleven days left on its crowdfunding clock, its six-hour playtime and four-player complement mean that won’t be possible. These thoughts are only halfway formulated. It’s entirely possible I’ll get something wrong. Still, I want to tell you about it.
Truth Universally Acknowledged
There’s a terrific irony at the heart of A Universal Truth, Patrick Einheber’s strategic game of courtship. Jane Austen did a number on us with Emma and Sense & Sensibility and all the others. The Regency didn’t even last a decade, but it might as well represent an eternal summer, flushed with evening balls and surprise elopements, chilled by spurned advances and declined proposals of marriage, and above all marked by the triumph of true love over the tightly laced bodice of propriety.
A Universal Truth is… not that. If anything, it rears back to give the laces an extra heave.
Sneaking Around Adaptation
It isn’t often that a board game lets me play a video game as “research.” Not that I usually need the excuse. Please, would somebody design Deus Ex: The Board Game. I’m already reinstalling it.
The first clue to David Thompson and Roger Tankersley’s Sniper Elite is that subtitle. You don’t put “The Board Game” on your game unless you’re adapting some other source material. In this case, I knew the material well: Sniper Elite, a video game franchise that’s sophisticated enough to have multiple entries, but trashy enough to have a zombie army spinoff and a slow-mo cam that X-rays enemy bodies while your bullets penetrate and shatter their brains, lungs, and testicles. Don’t fret. They’re Nazis.
Never mind that the principal violence is done to the player’s soul. I’ve now spent twenty-five hours playing Sniper Elite 5, which translates to perhaps twenty minutes of kill-cams in aggregate. My life is not richer for having viewed these snippets, although I’d be lying if I didn’t confess my professional satisfaction for every combination ghost kill / sound mask / eyeball shot that left some Wehrmacht draftee puddling into the grass and his companions none the wiser.
But before we get into Sniper Elite, and what The Board Game does to adapt it, we first need to talk about adaptation itself.
Becoming Mary King
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Jim Felli brings me the weirdest stuff. That should be read in the most positive sense possible. Whether it’s a cannibalistic football match, embittered artists, crumbling great houses, or mile-high frogs, nobody in the hobby is doing anything quite like him.
The same is true of The Mirroring of Mary King. It’s about a woman, Mary King, who is being possessed by a spirit, also named Mary King. Like everything else that passes through Felli’s touch, it feels like a relic from a parallel dimension.
Chaos. Order. Back Together.
I’ll confess I have no idea what’s going on in Circadians: Chaos Order, the handsome but oh-so-drab title by Sam Macdonald and Zach Smith. Six factions, their skin tones and general aesthetic helpfully color-coded, have gone to war. What are they warring over? What are these strange artifacts? Is this what it would be like to dip into the Marvel Cinematic Universe with Avengers: Endgame? Am I ignorant because I didn’t play the previous title, Circadians: First Light? Must board games have cinematic universes too?
Never mind all that. Klaxons are sounding. Missiles are incoming. We dive into battle — by setting some prices. Booyah.
All Is Bomb Is Bomb
Here’s a scenario for you. The Princess slumbers in her bed. Soon she will awake. What will she want for breakfast? Since she’s a bit of a, well, princess, she will neither wait to be served nor accept anything other than what her rumbly tummy desires most. You summon the breakfast prophets to foretell the proper meal. Except they’ve gone missing. A dozen other matters also consume your attention.
Also, everything is a bomb.
Abstracts Get Political: GoCaine
Once in a while, an abstract game steps away from the norm by being overtly political. See, for example, my series on Suffragetto, Guerrilla Checkers, and Paco Ŝako. This isn’t to say that every abstract game with a real-world setting qualifies as political. But if the first thing somebody does when unpacking the game is to pour out a pile of white plastic cubes, scrape them into lines with a credit card, and then wonder aloud about the real-world cost of its weight in cocaine — which is exactly what my friend Geoff did as we sat down to give Richard Nguyen-Marshall’s GoCaine a try —
Yeah. I’m gonna call that political.
SPACE-BIFF! 