On Monopoly: Part Wait Really?!

I love Monopoly. This puts me in the vast minority of people in every gaming group I’ve been in since I was thirteen. And while I do enjoy the game, and defend it at every turn, I do also understand that it’s a pretty shite game. I have a great deal to say about Monopoly, both good and bad.

I mean really, are we seriously f***ing doing this?!

So.  Um.  Hi.

It’s been just shy of four years.  If you know me you’re expecting a long-winded thing here, a welcome back, apologies, new awakening screed.  But no.  I can’t/won’t commit to that.  It’s okay, none                                                                           us should feel bad.  I just saw a thing that fascinated me, and it was too long a for a Facebook post.  So it goes here.

Ginger Snaps

We’re watching Riverdale in our house.  Teen drama with some murder mystery, all set in a re-imagining of the world of Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge, and Jughead Jones.  My wife thoroughly enjoys it.  I think it’s alright.  This is not a breakdown of that show, per se.  But the preview for the next episode caught my eye.  The gang is going away to a cabin in the woods, probably to have network-television-appropriate cuddles and maybe air out some grievances, like how egregiously out of place Archie’s music dreams are.

And they’re also going to play Monopoly.  So here I am.  Hi.

Americana

I feel that it’s worth it to talk a bit about the history of Archie comics.  Not being an expert, we’ll just go to Wikipedia and get some background.

Archibald “Archie” Andrews started in Pep Comics #22, in December 1941.  The characters’ popularity quickly led to Archie becoming a standalone series in 1942 and running until June 2015, where it gave way to a modern reinvention as part of the “New Riverdale” relaunch in July.  The television series, featuring some heavy story elements (murder, organized crime, social inequality to name a few) is based off this new take.

To wit: Archie has been part of American culture since World War II, and is undergoing a renaissance of modern storytelling.  Monopoly has it’s own heritage in American history, dating back to pre-depression, and is also in the throes of a cultural reinvention, though would have to argue not as successfully received.  Still, to see the game being played in an episode speaks more to me than the simple foil of four bored teenagers on vacation playing the stereotypical “only board game in the house” (though that is definitely a valid interpretation); to me it is the fusion of stalwart pop-culture icons engaging in an ingrained cultural touchstone.  It’s an Americana ouroboros.  So it’s a shame the SouthSide snake is getting his ass kicked.

1000 Words

Before we go further, let’s get a look at the still that got us here.

WE ARE HAVING FUN

I love this tableau.  It’s the sort of thing you can either write off as scene filler, or you can get deep into the decisions made to set this scene.  Which I’m gonna do.

For those not watching the show: Jughead (top) is dating Betty (left), and Archie (bottom) is doing an on-again-off-again thing with Veronica (right).  Jughead is a poor kid from a broken home on the outskirts of Riverdale, with a sort of ancestral rite of leadership to the show’s gang element, the SouthSide Snakes.  Betty’s a sort of girl-next-door type with a damaged family and a possible un-diagnosed mental instability.  Veronica is the bad girl from the big town, and the heiress to her family’s wealth, legacy, and the seedy underpinnings therein.  Archie, despite the mature update of his world, remains the good-intentioned everyman from modest upbringings striving to do right and find himself in the process.

There are deliberate stylistic choices made here, even before we consider the game.  Betty and Jughead are sitting on one side of the table, almost linked by the single bear-skin rug they’re standing on.  Also, almost everyone is standing, which baffles me.  It’s like everyone needed to be uncomfortable, except for the person winning (more on that later).  The lighting has the Jughead-Betty couple in softer bluish light, and the Archie-Veronica pair in warmer light and sharper focus, made more stark by their wardrobe choices.  I think this is meant to portray some sense of trustworthiness – Jughead and Betty have been constantly fighting to do what’s right, and Archie and Veronica have been swimming in murkier waters – Veronica’s joining the family business of probably f***ing people over, and Archie is I guess an FBI informant?  (UPDATE: That FBI agent was a plant to test Archie’s loyalty to the Lodge family)  Everyone’s drinking something dark out of tumblers.  I’m guessing it’s a dark liquor like whatever scotch was handy, which is what you do when you’re 4 teenagers who found/snuck a bottle of hooch in an old cabin.  The copy of Monopoly they’re playing is pretty old; the box in the upper left is the version used in 1962.  It’s the sort of copy you’d see in a vacation home you’re renting; not old enough to be historic, too old to be a deliberate consideration by homeowner/renters.

You can tell a lot by the game state in this picture (photo quality aside), as well as the temperament of the players.  Jughead is a free-thinking scrappy bad-boy wannabe; his deeds and money – such as they are – are scattered but still grouped and identifiable.  Betty is a meticulous, high strung person; her money and deeds are all lined up, evenly spaced, drinks away from the cash and valuable deeds.  Archie’s setup is fairly straightforward; deeds in groups but slightly askew, same with cash.  It’s a standard, almost comforting setup, to go with the standard, almost comforting man.

Veronica’s setup I like the most; money in discrete piles, all set at the exact same angle to the board, no $1 bills because she doesn’t have time for chump change.  Her monopolies are grouped by sheer power of rent potential, and organized as such (Blues are crisp, Oranges lined up but just shy of perfect, light-blues bundled).  Her non-grouped properties are few, and almost disdainfully cast aside.  She has no need for them, her power is absolute and her need for trading is nil.

Rich Get Richer,Blah Blah Blah-er.

Now’s a good time to talk about relative wealth.  The game state is meant to be an allegory for the characters playing the game.  I could have started and ended the post with that sentence and been done, but we all know that’s not my style.  Let’s go from bottom to top, as I see it.

Jughead is poor; single dad in jail, semi-homeless, no financial acumen.  His game state is unarguably the worst; low on cash (approx. $100 give or take), Purple monopoly with a scant 1 house on each, 2 railroads and what looks like one Red.  The weakest monopoly with the weakest development and some scraps of resource.  Down but not out, still fightin’, etc.

Archie’s dad is a blue-collar working-class stiff who owns his own construction business but has fallen on hard times.  He’s working on a football scholarship, following a dream of music I’d like to ignore, and a good heart beset by hard times that force him to choose between his drive to do what’s right and what’s necessary.  Game analog: he owns a struggling business – green Monopoly with minor development (one house, maybe two, but not three).  His other deeds represent failed side ventures; one railroad, two Reds, one Magenta.  He has options, he can try to use what he’s built to win, but it’s a longshot – Greens are notorious for under-performing due to their position on the other side of the Direct-to-Jail corner). His best chance for victory is shrewd trades and a quick kill.  Of note: Jughead has the deed he needs to complete his Red set.

Betty’s from an upper middle class family, well off but not major players in Riverdale. She has the yellows with good development (3 houses?),  and I would argue the second-best position, especially if she can complete that Magenta set (though how she does that I have no idea). What would be more interesting is if she had the color group Jughead has the final deed for; his being out but having something valuable to her would reflect their strained relationship.  But that would require a different break of the Reds/Magentas so Betty and Archie shared them.  Why?  Well let’s go to my new favorite person…

Veronica is the daughter heiress of the richest and most suspect family in Riverdale (except the Blossoms, and I so wish Cheryl was playing in this game). And her board state is dominating. Blues with Hotels, the quintessential symbol of wealth and power in Monopoly, and also the Light-Blues with Hotels, and Oranges with major development. She owns the top, the mid, and the low-end, and has nothing really worth trading to anyone, so she stands alone.

These are all deliberate decisions made by the scene organizers to tell a story.  Veronica owns powerful monopolies, a utility and railroad to represent that she has her hands in all things (and form a tenuous bond with her bf Archie via railroad), and no other color deeds that she could trade or want to.  She is deliberately isolated by her holdings.  Archie’s best way to win is to “kill” Jughead, take the railroads (which would give him 3) and the single deed that completes his second monopoly.  Betty has a good chance but her odds are rough against her rival.  She doesn’t want to rely on others, and her relationship with Archie is strained from the love triangle, but he has the one deed she needs to complete another Monopoly and shore up her position.  Her bf Jughead cannot help her; he can’t really help anyone, even himself, but he has just enough to be a short-term nuisance and a long-term Hail Mary if he gets a ton of lucky rolls and a handout from the quintessential nice-guy trying to do right.

 

Endgame

I hope more than anything that we see the rest of the game play out.  I want to see the show writers hit us hard with ham-fisted metaphors using Monopoly as their lexicon.  Maybe Betty, Archie, and Jughead make some insane 3-way trade to try to fight off Veronica’s Empire.  Archie could just hand Jughead a monopoly because he feels some need to help his downtrodden poor friend, and Jughead’s pride won’t allow it and he tries to flip the table but he can’t because it’s a heavy-ass tree trunk slice and he can’t even ruin the game properly.  I want Veronica to start taking players out, claiming their tokens in her manicured hand, saying something like “it’s okay boys, it’s only a game.  Right?”  And gives a knowing smirk and a wink toward her boy-toy Archie while Betty watches, silently fuming.

Also, it infuriates me that they have so much money in the system but aren’t developing their monopolies.  What the hell are you waiting for?  You got the rest of the game right, do you just not remember how mortgaging and 3-house rent breaks work?  Veronica gets it, her monopolies are developed for maximum effectiveness.  God I hope she crushes you all.

To Be Continued

Now, it’s late where I live.  It’s almost 2 AM and I’m close but not done with all I want to put in this post.  I want to talk about why there’s so much money left on the board; Jughead’s poverty aside, the other players have so much money for this late in the game.  I’m pretty sure it’s because they use the Free Parking rule, as evidenced by the money in the center of the table in a shape that suggests it’s not rent being exchanged.  I want to talk more about each player’s chances to victory, and the path they must take.  And I really want some sort of photo-editing capability that can answer the niggling question of who has the Reds and the Magentas – I wrote under the idea that Archie has two Reds and one Magenta, Betty has two Magentas, and Jughead has that final Red.  This matters to me, and I think both states would say something different about their relationships.

I also wanted to finish this post in an hour and throw it out there.  No biggie.  No need for links, photos, screenshots.  But we know that isn’t my style.

I may come back to this post tomorrow.  Or when the episode airs.

So.  Bye for now.

 

 

A Beautiful Moment, or Double Check Your Tickets To Ride

    I married a beautiful woman who thinks I’m great, and yet we can’t seem to meet in the middle, board-games wise. Something about the games we do and do not enjoy don’t seem to match up. When she wants a fun co-op or silly party game I want a resource-management territory grabbing drag-out fight. We find a few games we both dig on, but our relationship is built on things other than gaming, and I can’t believe I can say that without flipping the f*** out. Guess I’m growing up.

    The issue is multiplied when her parents are involved. They’re not big gamers; very few parents are. I bring a game to every gathering of the family, and I see success about 30% of the time. Aside from their beloved go-to game Sequence (which is essentially a piece of crap, sorry Nana and Papa), it’s hard to get a game of anything going, though Carcassonne saw some play time. Once.

    This 4^th of July weekend saw us taking a trip to Cape Cod to spend some time at her parents’ cottage. These trips always have a moment where we eyeball the alpha shelf and decide what games have a chance of hitting the table. We usually bring two. We’re both sick of Dixit, and Carcassonne isn’t around. I decide on Vegas Showdown (it did not get played). And Katie chose the game that’s near the top of every gate-way and family game list you’ve ever seen, Alan Moon’s classic Ticket to Ride.

And It’s Alright!

    As you can probably guess, this is the game we played. I enjoyed it so much, I thought a little recap of the night would be fun.

 

Derailed At The Track?

Mary and Brian are kind, generous people who love me and like their daughter very much. I think they’re amazing, and I’m excited to teach them a new game. So I’m sort of grinding my teeth when, 20 minutes after we sit down I haven’t gotten to sentence 1 of the rules because, at all times, at least one of them is off doing something else. They’re hosts in a new house and things need to be cleaned, put away, adjusted, etc., so I’ll cut them some slack. And you can’t really say anything to your in-laws about paying attention or you come off as priggish. We’re gonna get the game going, I know it, I just gotta…

I know someone’s going to forget a rule, I can taste it in the air. When Brian and Mary both exclaim, “oh, I thought gray was a color, you didn’t say that. I’ve been waiting for them forever!” I was amused and humbled. Remember, no matter how many times you say a rule, there’s a great chance someone’s going to miss it when it comes up. Still, things are going well, everyone’s having fun, and aside from a few odd plays which prompt some more rules explanations and helpful suggestions, we’re racing toward the end-game.

 

The Couch Shot

It’s a curling term I made up for a very specific instance. It’s when you’re playing against your SO as skips, and you make a shot so amazing against him/her that you’re going to be sleeping on the couch that night. So, here was mine…

Katie’s Blue, I’m Black, and Miami is looking mighty nice. I didn’t snap pics of my hand, but I had a fistful of purples. It would be so easy to jam that Miami path. It gets me points, I’m dead certain it stops a ticket of hers, and it would essentially guarantee me the win.

I don’t do it. I decide it really isn’t worth it. Screwing people over in a game, even if it’s opportunistic and totally in line with my victory, is a bitter pill. This is my family, I can’t do that. Besides, I’m pretty confident I can put in a good showing elsewhere and get the win that way.

HUBRIS!

I end up using those purples on that 6-train path to Toronto. 15 points is a sweet deal any way you slice it. I do it as my last turn, leaving me with 0 trains. I did have the chance to do it on my penultimate turn, and use my 1 remaining train to complete a critical path, but I was worried I’d get blocked. That last turn allowed Katie to place a few final trains.

Our final scores I forget, though I do remember that Katie and I were super close. I go to my tickets, expecting a grand flourish only to realize that holy shit I forgot to take the path to Denver! I didn’t snap that pic, but Denver was a 4 purple train path away. That little mistake cost me an 11 point ticket. With that, Katie and I were tied. Same tickets accomplished. She had longest path across Canada, and took the win.

I was, in truth, extremely happy the game concluded that way. It couldn’t have been closer, and she deserved the win. I was also very frustrated with myself. That Miami play would’ve been a winner. Placing the 1-train and 6-train moves in reverse order would’ve been a win. Taking another look at my tickets at any time before the final play would’ve been a win! I mean, damn!

And knowing that Katie was enjoying my impotent nerd-rage making her own victory that much sweeter is, well, it has to be why people play games in the first place! If I won, well great, I’ve played ToR a lot, Katie a little bit, her parents maybe once years ago. But to line up a sweet victory for someone like that (and no, I didn’t do it on purpose, I was trying and I lost), to be a facilitator of joy like that? Well AnyGameGood, my friends!

Tinker

Factory Fun: Blitz

In brief, Factory Fun is a game where you pick up a piece of factory equipment each turn, and construct a network of pipes to connect its in-ports to the right materials, and its output into giant waste bins, or into other machines. Points are awarded for machines, reusing materials, and minimizing building costs. It’s Pipe Dream the game, and it’s brilliant. And long. And a brain-burner. Every time I’ve played I’ve wanted to jump in and play again immediately, but didn’t have the time or mental fortitude to subject myself to the end-game again.

I see a way to scrape 5 points more out of this.

Also after every game, Josh (who is, like, super good at this game, you guys) says he likes to rearrange his board at the end to see what the most efficient setup could be. Or rather, he’ll do that to other boards, as his is usually pretty tightly designed. But aside from some minor tweaks we never really do it.

I have argued from time to time that we never mess with our games enough. It is true that we buy a game to play that game, with its rules, its pieces, its play-tested, balanced, and refined expression of the writer’s vision to provide a fun, specific experience. Plus, changing a game takes work. But in doing so we miss a great opportunity, the ability to muck around with the rules, to file the edges, re-wire the engine, strip and polish the cogs, and give the game a fresh perspective. We get to enact that most marvelous of play types, tinkering. We get to re-engage our imagination, fiddle with the box and bits like so many Lego promising infinite potential, and play a game we like! And if we fail, it’s only a game, right?

So it is with that in mind that I considered a little tweak to Factory Fun I simply call Blitz rules. You take 5 machines, flip them, start a timer, and construct your factory from whole cloth, attempting to build the highest scoring factory in the least amount of time. Then, do it again. Adjust machine numbers for difficulty, and use the clock as a score modifier. You’d get all the madcap excitement and interesting gaming bits of Factory Fun in a fraction of the time (our average hovered around 2 minutes a round). So how does it stack up?

First Impressions

One thing became readily apparent in a couple iterations; Josh is way better at this game than I am. I was hoping to get a small set of data points that would point us in the right direction for fair tweaking. Specifically, how much is a minute worth, really? Ideally a sloppy but faster built factory would be worth close to the same as a better built factory that took longer. The problem with determining this was that Josh builds factories that are routinely cheaper, better, and quicker than mine. Which is fine, really. We aren’t seeking to make the game more balanced. Or to drastically change the game, which is fun regardless.

This new mode is fun too, at least I’m getting a kick out of it. Despite getting beat by Josh in every round I’m enjoying seeing how quickly I can put something together. After 3 rounds we speculate on a few things:

• Pieces with high output are now way better than high point/low output machines. With the luxury of having multiple machines to work with you can drive toward the bonuses quicker. In the original game they’re good, but usually more difficult to implement. Here it’s easier, and creates swingy scores depending on your draw.
• On that note, drawing multiple “end machines” (ones with a black output at the end, usually simple machines with good points) makes for low scoring but quick rounds.
• 5 Machines works as a starting point; enough to provide a decent amount of confinement in your factory and force interesting choices, but small enough to keep a round to ~2 minutes. Any fewer would take out most of the challenge of placing and make good machine pairing too random. More would probably work.
• The times were very close together. If time is used as a sort of point modifier, it would need to be measured in seconds, which is very confining. In one round I took a large amount of time moving my whole configuration around the factory to find the space. It sparked the idea that there should be a point where simply stamping a crappy, inefficient factory should be preferable to taking twice as long to shave off a few points of building.
• Physically placing pieces takes time. It occurred to me that it would be easier, and I think way more fun, if we had dry-erase mats to draw the piping on.
• For purposes of fun I think we succeeded. For purposes of balancing this wackadoo variant we need more play-testing.

That last one was important to me. It made me appreciate how much time and effort it takes to make a game click together, all the mechanics coming together to make the experience line up with the theme and purpose of the game. I like Factory Fun, but I think turns can take too long when people hem and haw for minutes about the piece they just picked up. At the same time, I see exactly why it is designed the way it is. Adding one machine at a time gives you a new puzzle each turn. And each turn is untimed for a reason; the game is testing your spatial orientation and how you process multiple pathways, but not how fast you can do it. You could play a variant where you pick up a fresh machine each time you finish placing the previous one, but it would be a headache, and take away that rush the start of each round where people scramble to choose the right machine for them, laugh at your friends swearing at you for taking their ideal green/orange processor, only to realize you done f***ed up good, son, that piece of junk ain’t fittin’ nowhere good.

Everything in the original game is there for a reason, and the act of tinkering with it made me appreciate that more.

Oh hey, Josh is doing Christmas Magic the Gathering the Show December 21st at the Catalyst Comedy Club. So, there’s that.

Differences

The new rule set is definitely quicker, at least round-by-round. It’s also, in my opinion, more accessible in terms of time; you can play a few rounds or a whole bunch, modifying the rules as you go. As long as each round uses the same rules for everyone it should maintain an internal balance. Ooh, would that work, allowing a “start” player to change the rules each round?

The clock is a good addition. Even without knowing how points should be awarded/penalized based on time taken, having a speed element is a good pairing to having all your machines at once, which makes construction much easier.

Player interaction in the base game is low, but still allows for people to peek over at other players’ machines and discuss good moves (depending on who you are, this can be a blessing or a curse). In Blitz there was less of that, as there’s little one can do to improve on a machine being built in one turn. Maybe more machines a turn, more players, or a heavier emphasis on quickly building.

We had time for one more tweak Josh suggested, where we start with 5 but have 5 machines in the center you could add if you were feeling bold, with the stipulation that you could take no more than 3. I had a hard enough time with the pieces I had, while Josh was able to snag 2 great machines for his set. More machines is a good idea, and drawing them from a pool re-introduces that nice frantic bit the original game has, but without trying it more I couldn’t say how I liked at; as it was it served as another way for Josh to rack the points up on me.

Conclusion: Will We Play Again?

At that point Mark came in, and it was time to put the experiment away. I do hope we get a chance to play around with it again. I think it has a lot of potential as a viable alternate rule set, and even if it doesn’t, the mere act of tinkering with a game we love to see if we can make it better, or at least good in a different way, is a worthwhile experience. It is, after all, a game about tinkering with the pieces of a whole to make it better.

In Fact Sometimes That’s Not Right To Do

Please allow me to paint you a scene, dear reader. Indulge me in my hubris as I relate a little gaming anecdote and, in its embellishments and lengthy prose, attempt to put us all in a more receptive mindset to a topic that’s been on my mind. Do not fear, children of the internet age; for those of little attention I will post a succinct summary soon after, for those who proclaim “Too Long; Didn’t Read!”

You see, I don’t speak about my manner of employment much here. This is, after all, a place of gaming, and precious little of that happens where I work. Truth be told, not much of anything happens where I’m concerned nowadays. I’m not at liberty to speak to much of it, though most would find it tedious at best regardless. Suffice to say, I have a great deal of free time at my 9 to 5.

I am often amazed at how much media one can absorb online. But when one’s rifling through news sites, webcomics, board game blogs and podcasts has become too much, sometimes a person just wants to play a game. Thankfully the internet does
not disappoint. Still, it’s one thing to peruse written works online, quite another to watch videos, and yet another thing to actively play games in blatant disregard of your office’s internet usage policy. When I do game it must generally be either very quick, or very slow.

Josh and I will occasionally play a 2 player game online; most recently it was Seasons through Board Game Arena. There are lots of good reasons to play with friends of course, and one of them is you’re all much more likely to be forgiving about turn times. We would turn the clock off, and we completely understand if someone has to step away and actually do work instead of play. It happens to Josh more often than it does me.

The seasons are so magical, they pass at different times. See what I did there?

On one occasion I was unsure if I’d have time to play (or more accurately, if any walkers-by would notice my transgression of gaming at work), and when I finally committed to the time Josh had just started a game of Innovation on Isotropic (of which the newest expansion, Figures In The Sand, is now available). I decide to find another game, and settle on a 2-player Race For the Galaxy session with someone who doesn’t seem too hardcore.

See, Board Game Arena keeps a lot of stats on its games and players. Each game has an “average” play time, and players’ play times can be tracked. Paying members (which I am not) have access to this information, but anyone who creates a game can set criteria for those joining, and limit players to those with particular rankings, high player recommendations, or a certain number of games which would suggest they know how to play, and quickly. Lollygagging is frustrating when you’re gaming online, I get it. I have never played Race online, and I don’t want to upset anyone, which of course is an absurd thing to be concerned about. But I am, and I find a game I think will be forgiving, and we dive in.

Race has an average online play time of 8 minutes. Whenever you have a turn, BGA sends you a doorbell chime to alert you. The rapid pace and multiple steps in a game of Race means the site is constantly chiming at you, and of course the faster you play the more frantic it can get. It’s been a while since I’ve played, but I’m able to lock into a quick produce/consume strategy. Meanwhile my opponent is throwing out cheap developments and planets twice as fast as I am. I don’t want to disappoint my opponent, or get caught gaming at my desk, or do a stupid move, so in my mind a simple game becomes this grand mental effort of strategize, implement, hide browser, return and re-evaluate, repeat.

It’s over almost before I realize it. Final scores, Me-42, Opponent-39.

The adrenaline dropped out of my body and I sank into my chair. What the hell happened? Was that a game or a quickie? It felt like hate-sex in the break-room before a conference. I felt dirty, used, and even though I won the feeling of accomplishment was coupled with a sense of longing. This isn’t what a game is supposed to feel like.

TL;DR: I played an online game so super fast it made my head spin, and I’m not sure I liked it.

Often times the people I play games with have a sort of “fun optimization” mindset. A fun game of 2 hours is not as preferable as 2 fun games of 1 hour each, or one of those played twice. Or sometimes, 5 or 6 successive games of something that takes 20 minutes. I once played a game of Dominion with a couple of people who played a whole f***ing LOT of Dominion. Our games took around 15 minutes, and my heart was pounding rapidly by the end of them. To which they replied, “oh, yeah, that’s about our average time.” Seriously? I mean, I get it. I don’t like feeling like my time is wasted playing a game. Sitting and waiting for a turn to happen is boring. But being pressed to optimize your turn and act quickly, in the effort of finishing in some arbitrary time limit is just as annoying. Even knowing the game and very capably playing it in record time (I won the first of those Dominion games as well as that Race game mentioned above), there’s something unnerving about clocking through a game so fast. Isn’t there time to savor?

Game Time!

(By which we mean the time it takes to play a game)

Every game published has a little block of information it, similar to the nutrition label on your canned corn. It will tell you the number of players, the recommended age range, and the estimated time to play. Which is great, but honestly it’s not as informative as one would think. And honestly, do believe everything you read?

It’s half passed time a f***ing 8 was rolled!

Fudge Factors

Number of Players

The more people playing, the longer the game. For some games this is just an additive property. For example: a turn takes about a minute each per person. The game has a hard limit of 30 turns. With 3 people, that’s 1 ½ hours. For 4 it’s 2 hours, etc.

Sometimes it’s a geometric increase. When everyone can participate in a person’s turn, the more people you have the more time each person’s turn will take. Example: For a 2 player game involving trading, the two players can manage trades very quickly. With a third person, each turn a player could conceivably speak with both players to make the best trade. The more players, the more discussion required, the longer the game will be.

Type of players

Players take different amounts of time for their turns (in games where turn time isn’t defined). Some take longer to strategize, some play very swiftly. Experience with the game is a big factor here. We have our own rough mathematical functions based on the players. One or two new players = 1.5x max estimated time. All new players = 2-2.5x time. Each Analysis Paralysis player adds a portion of time to the game based on the depth of strategy.

It’s also worth discussing in this section the kind of person and the kind of people playing the game, which are different.

Persons vary. Some are talkative, some are quiet, some are fervently interested in the game, and some are happy to spend time with friends who happen to be playing games. Independent of the kind of gamer they are, people’s personalities make a difference in play and, consequentially, on game duration.

People, by which I more accurately mean group dynamics, also vary. I think that online play is very quick compared to live, not just because the rules and physical components are streamlined, but the interaction is much different. There is no real conversation, no discussing turns, no real interaction with the other players save for that which is explicitly codified in the game. When I play games with the MIT group it’s very quick; experienced players, intensely focused on the game. I’ve played for years with some of these guys, and I don’t know their jobs, families, or in some cases their last (or first) names. When I play with friends at someone’s home the game tends to be much more relaxed. Experience is usually a factor, but so are the jokes, hints, jibes and general table-talk that may or may not pertain to the game at hand. These aren’t bad things, they’re just an addition to the experience of gaming with friends.

Environment

If you’re at a gathering at a game shop or convention, you’re surrounded by an abundance of games you’ve never played and people you don’t know, all united by a single thing; your desire to play games. That’s the focus, that is the singularity of contact with these people, and as such it is the focus of attention. Little to no time is spent on distractions chit-chat and the like.

If you’re at your Best Man’s apartment, cracking beers and jokes, discussing the upcoming wedding, the game is not the only thing in your life at that point. It’s going to share its time with the other things in your lives.

If you’re at a friend’s birthday/gaming party, it’s somewhere in the middle. Catching up is nice, and you’re there to spend time with friends, but you’re also there to game.

Time-to-Fun

All if this is a clinical examination of the duration of time a game might take. But perhaps that is not the metric we should pore over.

I was talking about Monopoly to Ted and Rebecca once. They’re sharp people, and usually have good insight into a game’s inner workings and what makes it work or not. One of the issues brought up with Monopoly was something I hadn’t considered before, something they called the “time-to-fun ratio.” The idea being that while Monopoly may be fun (and most people contest that claim), the amount of fun is too low for the time it takes to finish a game. A game that was just as fun, but condensed into a much faster game would be better. Or a game that took as long, but was fun the whole way through, would definitely be preferable.

While a bit over-generalized, I like the idea of a quantifiable amount of fun. Like if fun had a unit of measurement, like energy. The Whimsimeter. The Joviule. Grins-per-inch. Of course this doesn’t take in to account the type of fun we’re having, suggesting that our fun should have a purity rating, or density. Perhaps a conversion factor of fiero to friendship. Maybe a series of bar graphs listing the different elements of fun in their varying amounts. It could be the GMO labeling movement of the boardgaming world. “Carcassonne Inns & Cathedrals! Now with more Meaningful Choices!” “Cards Against Humanity, with fortified Friendship.”

Quantifying fun is a serious business

The Point being…

Yes, of course, thanks commentary/header. The point being that the length of a game is significant, but it is not necessarily a measure of the quality of a game, or the amount of fun one has while playing it. Faster isn’t always better, and not all the fun is derived from the board and bits and rules. A game is more than the sum of its parts.

A game should be savored from time to time. Race For The Galaxy is an excellent example; it’s an 8 minute games of resource management that could easily be a half-hour sci-fi serial of how empires are built if we gave it that chance. Battlestar Galactica, The Resistance, and any other co-op/traitor game’s enjoyment lays in the time between turns, the accusations and calculations, the nebulous element that only human interaction can provide. I’m not saying every game has to be a drag-out affair, but once in a while it’s worth it to take a breath and savor the moments that comprise the game.

Talkin’ About Tzolk’in

(We talked about the title for an hour and that’s the best we came up with. We hate us too)

Last night was game night with Josh and Mark, quite literally; we played one game.  A game that started late and ended later, clocking in around 2&½ hours.  And every single moment of it was fun, from the explanation and the grousing over the density of information on the board, to the constant declarations of “I have no idea how this game works!”  From turn 1 in its almost sinister innocence to the final desperate turns of the wheel where every point feels like the shot that may finally silence your enemies.

Josh: The game is Tzolk’in: the Mayan calendar.  Brandon and I had both seen it all over Unity Games, and though we both found lots of other things to do, seeing it in Mark’s crate of games the last few times we’ve gotten together has made me more and more intrigued. Even midway through the explanation of the rules I had a big grin on my face because this was going to be strange and fun. I was right.

It was a brain-burner for us, and among other things it rekindled my recently waning love for games that are all about cubes, food, workers and the mass accumulation of points. We have so much we want to say about the game, the people, and the evening, so let’s dive in.

The One With the Gears

There are better reviews for the game than I could make out there, so here’s a brief synopsis. You’re a Mayan tribe, you have workers, you have to collect food to feed them and resources to build stuff. You can improve your harvesting or building ability, get more workers, etc. It’s very much a worker placement and resource management game, right down to the drab colored cubes for wood, stone, and gold.

The component that makes it stand out, literally and figuratively, is the giant gear in the center and the smaller gears around it where workers go. The giant gear is the Mayan calendar, and each turn has it scooting your workers forward on tracks. The longer you wait, the better that worker’s prize when you pull him.

Mark put it (mostly) well: “It’s a resource management game where time is a resource.” Very close, but not exactly. Time is how long it takes to play. Tim-ing, or more accurately, turns, are the resource. And the exchange rates of turns, points, food and resources is a delightful puzzle. And it’s fun to turn the gears.

This is your brain on Tzolk’in

(Quick aside, Space Dealer and its recent remake Time n’ Space have you flipping sand timers to conduct your moves in real time. Time is a resource here).

My Kung Fu Is Strong

Before the game Josh and I talked a bit about style of play, and how some games are better than others at giving you that feeling of control. Some games are procedural number crunchers, while some allow you to modify your tactics and apply your style. Tzolk’in does this, making you feel like your civilization lives and breathes your will.

The Competitors

Name: Brandon Rahhal

Age: 30

Blood Type: AB Pos

Fighting Style: Swift Snake, Rising Eagle

My habit in gaming is to make quick moves and jump to the lead early on. The purpose is to get quick infrastructure and exploit benefits early on. If resource production can be enhanced early, it’s best to get to that quickly and lean on that advantage in an attempt to ride the power curve to the end. Its weakness is that it makes you a quick target, and can be prone to burning out too early and leaving nothing for the end-game. Driving the pace of the game is essential.

Name: Josh Michel

Height: 10 ft pole

Political Affiliation: Socialist

Fighting Style: Iron and Mortar

Josh is all about building a strong foundation. Ramping up resource production in a steady, level manner, creating a civilization (or casino, or dominion, or what have you) with immense strength and unparalleled prowess. It’s primary weakness is found in the transition from infrastructure to point acquisition. Without good timing and a solid understanding of the game system, that shift can be delayed until it is too late and the opponent has come in for the kill. If the right timing is found, however, you will find yourself pounding at the stone and the sea, an inexorable force with no signs of slowing.

Name: Mark Yun

Games owned: Over 9000!

Is Asian: Yes

Fighting Style: Iku Kyuu Nyuu Kon (One Shot With All My Soul)

Mark is a strong gamer, and can digest systems quicker than most of us. But what he is most adept at is finding the one straight shot that will obliterate the competition. In Netrunner it’s the 8 damage swing. In Pixel Tactics it’s a swift 3 card combo that leaves you reeling. In resource games it’s finding his strategy, putting the pieces in place, and making a sudden, stunning rush on the points track. It’s why I never underestimate him in any game. If there is any weakness in his style it’s that, in seeking out the one big move, he will occasionally miss smaller more nuanced moves between the cracks, little things that would garner more points.

How it played out

I started out by jumping on the tech tree, looking to exploit food and wood bonuses. An oversight in the rules (+1 food or +1 wood, not both for a single space) worried me, but I stayed with it. Josh began in a similar way and was able to build his infrastructure later, but stronger. Mark started with an additional worker, and ran towards getting more and finding ways to feed them. This would give him the flexibility to lay the foundation for a big rush.

With a bit of early gain, I decided to leap on the Chichen Itza track, which is specifically for gaining points and little else. It was time consuming and had its risks, but nobody else followed me on it, and it allowed me an early lead. Josh managed to gain massive amounts of resources and start building rapidly. Mark acquired a number of end-game points and rushed forward in the end. It’s very difficult to determine who’s where points-wise, but we’re all feeling a mix of “I’m in good shape” and “I just f***ed myself over.”

Food Scarcity

Josh: An interesting part of many worker placement games is the decision of when to get more workers. Getting more workers is something that has to be timed, and comes with the cost not only of obtaining but maintaining that worker. It’s always a risk. Mark had a technology that started him with an extra worker, and Brandon went down that track fairly early on. About midway through the game I realized I had plenty of food, and that I probably should have grabbed an extra worker a few turns ago, but was instead nervous because the half year was about to come up. As the game progressed, I found myself throwing good money after bad by repeatedly passing up the new worker because I had thought the moment had passed and the immediate gains I was making would be more important. I was very wrong, and though the final score was close, a few minor changes could have made it disastrously bad for me.

Being overly conservative about my workers is in part due to the feeding mechanic in Tzolk’in being very unlike Stone Age, a worker placement game I know quite well. Tzolk’in’s corn does double duty, being used in feeding workers and allowing more flexible worker placement. This makes it fluctuate significantly and it’s far less predictable when you’ll have the corn cover all of your people. Tzolk’in’s version of the Stone Age field isn’t a place where everyone can always put a worker and reasonably expect it to feed itself. It has a wheel where you might have to wait a few turns, and that scared me into usually having plenty of corn left over, waiting for feeding time. That extra corn was a wasted resource, and in a game that requires you to manage a few different systems of resources, having one run inefficiently can bog down the whole system.

I become the two things I hate: Sub Optimal Redux

Two kinds of people annoy me when I’m playing a game; those who take forever to complete a turn, and those who whine about losing when they’re winning or have won. This game I became both.

There’s a lot to process in Tzolk’in. My turns took a bit of time. At least once I took time hammering out the details of a turn and its long-standing implications, and it paid off. At least once I took the time to pore over the turn and ended up shooting myself in the foot. One of those “this isn’t sub-optimal, this is terrible” kind of turns.

Josh: Brandon put a worker in the farm track, expecting to get wood, not realizing that since there were no longer any wood tiles, the only thing he could get was corn. This meant he had a series of essentially wasted moves, culminating in the loss of a crystal skull and thus some points from the blue “uses a crystal skull to get lots of points” track.

And I’m convinced it’s cost me the game.

Mark’s a sharp guy, and he’s played the game before, so I’m always wary when playing against him. The last three times I’ve played him in a game I’ve had an early lead and he has snatched victory from me. As for Josh, our recent games taught me this; when I think I’m in good shape I get beat. When I think I’m losing, I get beat horribly. So I don’t dare let myself think I’ve won.

And then I win. It’s not by a lot, but it’s enough.¹

Josh: I found it very interesting that after the post about a Vegas Showdown mistake and the idea of Sub Optimal moves, we had both in this game. Mark made a few suboptimal plays at the very end. I have found that while overall strategies of mine aren’t always the best, I’m very good at finding every last point when I know the game is going to end in a turn or two. Mark was lining up for a big-point Monument for his final turn. Looking at the options available, he quickly grabbed the Monument and let the other workers do nothing, as he was now out of resources. I was looking at it and figured out a way for him to squeeze more resources out of the tech tree, giving him enough to not only get his monument, but also to use his last worker to buy another 8 point building. Those 8 plus the 2 extra from his Monument would’ve put him in the lead, and made Brandon’s mistake the one that cost him the game. Instead, the final numbers tallied up to have Brandon escape his mistake. Brandon outplayed us, and it was nice that the final score played out that way.

The term for people who take too long to play is Analysis Paralysis, or AP player. I propose that there should be a term for when one complains about losing and then wins. Maybe call it “Whining while Winning.”² If it’s popular enough we can truncate it to “whuffing” or something.

Final Thoughts

Recently, and with increasing frequency, a game comes along that everyone in the world seems obsessed with. Tzolk’in was played constantly at Unity games this year. It’s 17 on Board Game Geek. Mark has brought it to every game gathering we’ve had since he purchased it months ago. At times it felt like the entire world wanted me to play this game. And now I finally realize why. Which means playing The Resistance is way overdue.

Tzolk’in is amazing, and the most fun I’ve had with a Euro-style game in a while. My apprehension at seeing drab cubes was lost in a wash of color and theme; The bright artwork and tribal feel, the interlocking systems, and those iconic and fiendishly clever gears, serve to make this a holistic marvel. My victory, carved out by the fervent worship at Chichen Itza, makes the victory feel less like a math problem I solved and more like a victory for my tribe through abject worship. It’s an expressive and challenging game that I’m seriously looking forward to playing again.

¹Final scores: Brandon-60; Mark-53; Josh-52

²Not to be confused with “Tactical Bitching.”

Vegas Showdown and the “Suboptimal” play

The Setup

Brandon has invited us over. It’s the day after the anniversary of AnyGameGood.  His former boss Taran is in town, and they used to play games together at/after work. So we came, Taran, Mark, Nicole and I, to Brandon’s place to celebrate with a day of boardgaming.

As Brandon has pointed out, five isn’t always the best number for most games. We also have an interesting variation of experience in the room. Mark is a Gamer at a level that I’m not sure if Brandon or I match (Brandon may disagree). Taran, from what I can tell, is a gamer and has a mind that is used to walking down the paths of “If you do this then I’ll do that and you’ll do this” and Nicole is just starting to get used to thinking that way. I suggest Vegas Showdown as a game that seats five and has depth but will be generally easy to pick up for those who haven’t yet played it. I’m by no means an expert, but I’ve enjoyed the few games of it I’ve played.

Midway through the game we’re all pretty close. Taran has a slight lead, Mark is behind but has two rooms that he needs the prerequisites for before he can place them, and Brandon, Nicole and I are in the middle, well within striking distance.

“Oh my god that was so stupid.”

Mistakes happen. Gamers rarely talk about mistakes though, Gamers talk about “moves that are suboptimal.“ And so when I find myself repeating over and over “Oh my god, that was so stupid” and generally beating myself up, Mark tries to console me with “No one likes making a move that’s suboptimal.” He’s not wrong. However, I’d like to argue that there’s a difference between suboptimal and downright stupid. And I just made a move that was downright stupid.

Like in most games like this, I have built a strong economy. The most population, the most revenue, but only one lounge. No Fancy Lounge, no Nightclub, no Theatre. My points are coming from filling my casino and hotel, having the highest revenue and population, and hopefully ending the game on my terms, with my competitors unable to get something they need at the end. I’m in a position with a few turns left in the game where this is looking reasonable. Taran is ahead, but not by much, and I’m going to get the most bonus points at end of game. Brandon or Nicole could certainly come in and snag it, but I’m pretty happy with where I am.

Things are looking good. Look at all those slots!

This fateful turn Taran and I are the only two who have enough money to buy a room, we both have 33 cash, and only two rooms are within our price range: A Fancy Lounge starting at 25 and the Dragon Room starting at 33. For those who don’t have photographic memories, here are the stats for those two rooms: Fancy Lounge is worth 4 points (and is required to build a 12-point Theatre) and the Dragon Room is worth 6 points and gives 4 revenue. I was in the first seat, meaning I could bid the minimum for the Dragon Room and take it, or I could bid on the Fancy Lounge. Looking at the population and revenue tracks, I have a population of 15 and a revenue of 12, meaning that the Dragon Room not only is worth more points but also will help my economy (which also is worth points at the end of the game).

What did I do? I bid 27 on the Fancy Lounge. Taran bid 33 on the Dragon Room and I started repeating “Oh my GOD that was so stupid of me.”

In the moment I had half thought that since I was going to get the Dragon Room it was too bad that Taran was going to get the Fancy Lounge for only 25. This half thought caused me to try to make him bid a little higher for his Fancy Lounge, which put it at the same price for him as the better Dragon Room. Needless to say that play took me from a chance at the victory to a distant 3^rd place.

Technically, I still had all those slots AND a Fancy Lounge. But this is what my casino felt like.

“Nobody likes to make plays that are Sub Optimal”

Mark is right. No one likes to make plays that aren’t the best possible play. But sub optimal plays happen all the time, in fact, for most games there are often numerous moves that are all valid options, with personal preference being the deciding factor. Do I pick up a lounge this turn? Do I pay 9 for slots this turn when next turn I could get it for 7? Do I save my money waiting for a high value room to get flipped? These are all questions that get asked and will have different answers depending on the gamer.

Brandon likes to talk about them as “interesting decisions” and I’m inclined to agree. There may be one play that is superior, but there is rarely a wrong answer. Often, these decisions are ones that you wouldn’t be able to figure out if they worked or not until much later, and are based on a number of factors that you can’t quantify. For example, sticking with Vegas Showdown, you might have a play that is optimal knowing what cards are left in the deck and could be quantified, but knowing what choice the other players are going to make in similar situations can’t be.

Suboptimal plays do happen and can hurt you a few points on the final score, whereas mistakes mean the difference between winning and losing. Winning is important to me, but far more important is playing my best. Some games my best isn’t good enough, either because luck isn’t on my side or because someone is a superior player. This can be frustrating as well (unfortunately Brandon had this happen to him the other day when we played Seasons online. He played well as best we could both tell, and neither of us was particularly unlucky, but when the final scores were tallied, I had surprisingly ended up on top. He didn’t take it so well. I don’t blame him), but nothing is worse than a game where you can point to the exact reason you lost an otherwise winnable game and it was because you did something completely boneheaded. That’s the kind of loss that sticks with you through the next game you play and can mess with your mojo. I like to think of myself as a smart guy, and I think that’s not an uncommon thought amongst the gaming community, and it hurts to be proven wrong, even if only for a single stupid moment.

Looking For Group

A Team of Like-Minded Individuals

The next big battle in the console wars is underway. The knock-down drag-out fight between Sony and Microsoft, with Nintendo yapping and biting at heels like a spry old Shih Tzu, has the techno-foes trading blows over system power, online security, indie game development, and a number of other issues. But very little of what I’ve heard (mind you, I have not been paying much attention) talks about how much more fun the games will be. Processor power and stronger graphics engines are lovely, but nobody is talking about increased interconnectivity with players, beyond a few “post scores and issue challenges through social media to your friends!”, which isn’t a meaningful connection.

The strange thing is, it wouldn’t be difficult. Imagine sitting in front of your Xbox, firing up a digital reconstruction of a game, and simultaneously opening up Skype to connect with friends. The game doesn’t even have to be tightly programmed, it could just be a graphical construct that allows dice rolling and piece movement. We could have a new era of tabletop gaming, something that could one day mend the rift of live tabletop and isolated console gaming.

I love both video and board games, but as far as interaction with people, live tabletop gaming cannot be beat. Thus it is a point of frustration for me that actually getting people to the table to game cab be such a Nightmare.

Whyyyyy is nobody showing up?! (heh, me and my puns)

Time and Space

That’s what you need to put a group together. Well, you need the people of course, and the desire to play, the physical games themselves, etc. But once the desire is there, and since everyone I know has at least a few games ready to play, it all boils down to the time to play (and learn) games and a place to play them. Time and space are the dwindling and scattered resources of planning.

Mark: Want to get a game thing going tonight?

Me: Yeah, of course I’m interested. Where should we do it?

Josh: We’re about to eat dinner, but we might be interested after. I don’t think we’re coming out to Watertown though.

Mark: Well, I’m in Melrose, and you’re on your way home to Watertown (Google maps estimate: 1 hour with traffic). What about Josh, he’s roughly between us (~22 minutes from both our homes).

Josh: Nicole and I are out for tonight, thanks though.

Me: I just got in, I don’t have it in me to go back out for an hour drive in traffic. Maybe some other time.

That Kind of Party

There’s something to be said for an impromptu game session. For most gatherings though, you need to plan it ahead of time, just like if you were planning a “normal” party. More so I’d say, since for most parties I’ve attended all you need is booze and space for people to stand around, drink, and socialize. For gaming, people need to know rules, be physically and mentally invested in the game, and be willing to adhere to certain customs not necessary in other parties; keep drinks and snacks off the table, don’t walk off in the middle of the game to chat with someone in the other room, don’t get into side conversations, and take the game seriously.

Me: (before many parties) You think I should bring a game or two, in case people want to play?

Katie (+a few others): I don’t think it’s that kind of party.

Me: …I know.

Normal Party vs. Board Game Party (as the internet, vis-á-vis Google Images, sees it)

Looking For Group

When you get older, your free time becomes scarcer and more precious. Certain life matters crop up, things like jobs, bills, kids, fund-raisers, that sort of thing.

Sukrit: My mother is visiting this weekend, so I’m out.

Mark: Flying to San Francisco for work. I’ll be there next week.

Josh: It’s my last show that night and after the show I plan on being extremely drunk.

Me: I’m getting married in X months (in which 8 ≥X≥0)

Gaming becomes one more thing you have to prioritize. I know people who are passionate about anygamegood, even if they don’t call it that. And they lament the occurrences when their gaming sessions have been knocked off of one or more persons’ list of priorities. It’s even more frustrating when it’s done on incredibly short notice (often the day of) and it’s treated as simply not a big deal.

Ted (on absences from the Risk Legacy campaign): “We all have things to do in our lives, of course. But for me it’s like this; if you’re interested in gaming you make time for it. If you can’t make it, fine, but don’t say you can make it and then just blow it off.”

Auston (author, games designer, and avid blogger): “I just feel like people are scheduling the game, and if somebody, anybody, calls them, my game is the first thing to get dropped.”

And therein lie the issue. I believe the perception of gaming gatherings is that of a frivolous activity, a source of amusement and diversion that begins, ends, and in the middle is filled with inconsequentiality. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t believe that, to a degree (it’s right there in the mission statement), but I would never call gaming, or the act of planning or reneging plans, as inconsequential. I believe it’s important to remind ourselves, every now and then, that play has its own important place in human interaction. I hold games in high regard, and the people who play them are closer to me than others. It is a social gathering that to me is not as arbitrary as eating a bunch of caramels.

Party Size

Before game night begins, I have to decide who I’m inviting. It’s more complicated than you’d think. You can’t just invite all your gaming friends and see who shows up. Well, maybe you can, I can’t. Josh and I have a spreadsheet of our gaming friends to keep track; it’s around 20 people, incomplete. If half those people showed up every time it would be bedlam.

Every game fits a certain number of people. Some are broader than others, but most have a recommended number. Just so with game nights, especially when I have certain games I’m hoping to play.

# of people

1:    Well, they do make a lot of neat board games with 1-player variants. Try Mage Knight, or Chrononauts solitaire.

2:    Duel night with a good friend/rival. Netrunner, Pixel Tactics, Twilight Struggle. Puzzle Strike and Innovation fit more, but are great 1-on-1. If this is what I’m looking for, I’ll ask one person at a time until I find somebody. Sometimes this can result in an unexpected cancellation and a ruined night so, to call it back, I do enjoy console games.

3-4:    Tons of games fit this number optimally, and it’s a good figure to shoot for if you want to have a low-key gathering with your friends. Which is why we never have it. This is the razor’s edge of gatherings; you either invite the exact number you’re looking for, and everyone bails, OR you invite a few extra friends, figuring that somebody won’t be able to make it, and everyone shows up.

Josh: “Improv people are notoriously flaky. I invite them, but I don’t count on them replying quickly if at all.”

5:    This is a tough number sometimes. Not a lot of games work with 5; they generally run long , there’s a large gap between turns, and the asymmetry precludes 2v2 setups. Still, it’s not hopeless. Co-Op games like Pandemic or Shadows Over Camelot work this way, and Betrayal at House on the Hill is pretty good with 5.

6:    There are games that fit 6, but I personally believe they’re the kind of games you plan for. Diplomacy, Twilight Imperium, and other large-scale games are great, but they’re the kind of games I want to specifically plan for, not drop in for a game night of indeterminate attendance and “what do we want to play” syndrome. More likely this is splitting into two games.

7-8:    Now you’re getting into definite 2-game territory. 7 is particularly difficult, since there are very few (non-party) games that fit 7, and I personally can’t name one. Even Dixit, a quintessential party game, only fits 6. 7 has to be 5&2 or 4&3. 8 provides more flexibility, but again, it will be 2 games.

9-12: This number frustrates me. We end up with it sometimes, when I haven’t had a game night in a while and want to see everyone. Or when I send a blast invite to make sure I’ll have enough people and, improbably, most of them actually show up. At this point, not only are we playing two games, they’ll take up the full evening. We won’t get a chance to play or chat with the other half of the group, which is fine when everyone is having fun, but it can be a drag gaming with 5 and cleaning up for 12. And considering our group isn’t big on Apples to Apples or other large party games, there’s no other recourse.

13: At this point you’d better just hire a hobbit to round out the numbers.

13 is unlucky. Also, these guys are certain to f*** up your table

Plan Ahead

As I said before, planning a game night takes as much time as planning any other party.   I try to give at least a week, but the more people you’re looking to invite the more time you want to give them.  (And sometimes I ping guests who haven’t replied, as most people don’t RSVP anymore.)

I usually send out a list of games I’m hoping to play beforehand (Josh is a bit more loose, there are pros and cons to both).  If you know the number of people playing it’s easier, and will prevent wasting time deciding on what to play.

Finally, and most importantly, it is good to remember that game gatherings are fun.  It can be frustrating when your plans for an epic sit-down of Twilight Imperium get snuffed out, or if your multi-hour 12 man game extravaganza becomes 3 people playing Catan again.  But instead of focusing on how things went awry, consider how nice it is to play games with friends.  You can’t control other people or their plans, but you can plan ahead, and if your friends are looking to game, they’ll make time.

This weekend marks the one year anniversary of Anygamegood.  To celebrate (and also, coincidentally, since my friend and former boss is visiting from Texas) we’ll be doing a day-long gaming session at my place.  Hope everyone is getting some good gaming in this weekend.

Risk: This Is How The World Ends

Ted’s Campaign

Sam wasn’t able to make a number of the games, so we had a lot of 4-player sessions. This changes the texture of the game immensely. The map has more space, so placement order isn’t as critical. This changes draft priority, and allows for later conflicts and more time to bolster one’s armies. It also keeps one more faction out of play, which prevents them from acquiring knock-out or missile powers, which effectively removes them from the game.

It’s a long list of “if this than that” and “what ifs” in Risk: Legacy. That is, I think, one of its major strong points; our world is unique, it developed as only our could. Ours is a story nobody else has.

Unfortunately that isn’t a happy story for everyone else it seems.

Game 11

Sam is able to make this one, which is kind of exciting. He’s low on missiles, and everyone underestimates him. I hope to get a large exchange of cards late and win the game with a single push. I wait just long enough for Sam to do a smaller push and wipe me out, claiming my considerable card stack. He wins next turn. It’s two victories for the guy who didn’t have any going into game 9, so it provides a bit of hope for the campaign.

Game 12!

Sometimes hope is just a word.

I won. It was another game of someone having a lock on their turn, but somebody sneaking in a moment earlier and taking the victory. It wasn’t guaranteed for me, a lot of rolls had to go my way. But as Ted has said, “if you have a 40% chance of winning with a course of action, it’s worth trying.” So I gambled, pushed across the board, and took enough bases to win. If anything, it continues to demonstrate how important it is to protect your base.

This is my 6^th win, and it gives me a plurality. Games 13-15 will have no bearing on who wins the campaign, as nobody can match my 6. Ted says a couple things, boiling down to, “Congrats, even though it’s not a game about winning, but we’ll keep playing, because it’s still fun.” Imagine my dismay when I found out he didn’t really believe that.

See, I’m usually the first person to get to Ted’s, as my work lets out earlier than everyone else’s, plus I live closer. So we have time to chat about the game before it gets underway. And again I had to hear Ted talk about how un-fun the game has become, and how it’s (mostly) my fault. I felt bad about it the first time this was thrown at me around game 8. But I’ve done my best since then to play tough but fair, and not politick or twist the game around. I don’t need this again. At some point it needs to be said. There was terrible play early on, a bunch of people made bad decisions and fought the absolute wrong opponents, and Ted didn’t try hard enough. I may have done some early prodding, but I’m not the sole architect of the game being so busted.

Game 13

I win the draft and take Mutants, the only time I’ve played them. At this point most of the people in the table are anxious to crack open the final packet, the Capital City. We start with the appropriate mission (randomly I swear), and a territory card that works for it comes out a few turns in.

This is where it becomes obvious how busted the game is. Aaron has a great chance to take the territory needed to make the mission happen. However, my stack of missiles is enough to keep it protected, even when Ted (the one who owns it) is playing missiles to help Aaron take it. He’s rebuffed, and I take it my next turn, giving me two points. I lost my base earlier, but I’m able to take it my next turn, though with only 3 armies on it. So when I’m at 3 points I see Ted checking his options. At this point I feel compelled to say, “I know I shouldn’t say this, but you should really defend your base.” He does, sort of. He ups the army count from 4 to 7, though he has more he could use. So when my turn comes around, his is the most reasonable target to go for. Even after the Capital City battle, and even after I spend missiles to defend my base, I still have 1 to use against him. I’m able to swing a double loss into a double win with it, and I have more than enough strength to take the base and the win.

I feel crappy for doing it, and I apologize to the table. The campaign is called here, as nobody wants to watch something like that again.

Aftermath

So yes, the game got busted. I took some wins I shouldn’t have, obtained a stronghold, gained an advantage too difficult to overcome (with 3 other people; it would’ve been much different if Sam could’ve made it). But After mulling it all over again, I’m pretty sure that I’m done apologizing for this sort of thing. Ted said that games aren’t about winning, they’re about competition. Yeah, I get what he means, but it’s a game, moreover it’s Risk. Says it right on the box, above the word Legacy. It’s an Ameritrash classic which has always been about random swings, massive armies, and grinding everyone else at the table into dust. The fact that it has a 15-game meta framework does not change that core stylistic design. I agree that the game is somewhat broken, but sometimes the players are too.

I hate that I have to feel crappy all over again while I type this. I hate that I’m in a position where I have to apologize for playing my best. I hate that everyone thinks it’s the game that’s screwed up and not their own stupid shitty play. It’s Beyond Boardwalk all over again; a lot of new mechanics and cool choices, but the same game at its core, with hurt feelings and sour looks when you lose.

You know what? Fuck it. I won, I’m not going to feel shitty about it. Besides, the other campaign manages to be balanced, despite having similar issues.

It’s Risk. Says so right on the box.

Greg’s Campaign, Game 8

So, that stronghold I had in Australia in Ted’s game? Jess has one in South America here. It’s not as great, as it still has two entry points and her city is surrounded by ammo shortage scars, but it’s still nice to have a guaranteed quality starting location. The faction she gets has an “ignore ammo shortages when defending” bonus to it, so her setup is pretty good.

The factions here aren’t fully loaded with powers and scars, so it’ll be interesting to see how they develop. The Saharan Republic has a sweet one-two combination of being allowed to use their redeployment in any territory they control, and being able to reinforce to one unoccupied territory per turn. I use it to get around the nuclear fallout in Australia. It’s not a great bonus, but it keeps my base protected, as the mutants are on the other side of the map.

I get a nice set of cards, but I don’t get to use them. Jess manages to take a few quick cards, and when nobody expects it (and I’m in no position to stop her), she turns in cards, marches through two bases and 9 territories, and grabs 3 points in a turn. I believe her base was a critical component, not because of the continent bonus (which I don’t believe she ever held), but the unbeatable population amount which gave her some great events.

Aftermath

This gives her two wins. At 8 games, everyone has two wins, except for Greg who hasn’t gotten on the board yet. It’s odd for me, knowing what’s in the remaining packets, and seeing how the game could play out. It’s difficult to keep that knowledge from coloring my decisions. Still, this game is progressing much differently, with a completely different set of players, so I’m excited to see how this one ends.

WHERE WE STAND

Greg’s campaign

Winston: 2 Wins

Brandon: 2 Wins

Spooky: 2 Wins

Jess: 2 Win

Packets Open: Second Win, 9 Minor Cities, Player Elimination, 3 missiles

Ted’s Campaign (Called)

Brandon: 7 Wins

Ted: 1 Win

Aaron: 2 Win

Mark: 1 Win

Sam: 2 Win

Packets Open: Everything

Resource Management

Josh and I had a delightful game gathering over Memorial Day Weekend. In attendance were Me, Josh, Katie, Nicole, Fraley, Perich, and Sylvia. 7 people can be a tough number for a gaming group, as none of the games we’ve brought fit 7. Fortunately, we’re able to move past that “what are we going to play” phase of game night and get to playing in different groups and configurations. Among the games played were Factory Fun, Innovation, Castle Panic, Dixit, and Galaxy Trucker. Galaxy Trucker is the one I’d like to talk about.

Shipsmiths

It’s a work in progress. But I swear she flies.

I love Galaxy Trucker. I love playing it and I love teaching it. It was Nicole’s third game, Perich’s first, and my… I dunno, 37^th? Well, enough that Perich referred to me as a “practiced shipsmith.” The game specifies that it can be punishing, and that any player who made a profit by the end wins (though “some are bigger winners than others”). I confess, dear reader, that I did not adequately pull my punches when ship building. I don’t think I stole critical pieces or put time pressure on anyone, but I did come out with superior ships, though in round 3 large chunks broke off mine, which was simultaneously frustrating and exhilarating.

After the game, Perich asked Nicole and me what general guidelines he should be following in building ships. For what it’s worth, he took second place with a very respectable score. And he did it with very slim ships.

I’m not a genius, but I fancy myself a pretty good Galaxy Trucker player. I told him, “it’s important not to block off sections of your ship by placing pieces with too few outward connectors. Each square of your ship should be looked at as a resource, a place to put something in your ships of some use. Specific ship pieces are important as a resource, but your most important resources are time and space.” Then I thought, “Wait, was that poignant?”

Resource Management

Resources are defined as “a source of supply, support, or aid, especially one that can be readily drawn upon when needed.”  All games have at least one resource. No, seriously. Every game you will ever play has resources. Some are obvious; wood, grain, ore, cash, energy, etc. Some aren’t called resources, though of course they are; workers, deeds, territory. Some aren’t even considered as resources, though again they are, and sometimes more important than the obvious resources you’re given. For example, Scrabble is a game about building words to get points. You draw letter tiles from a bag; that’s an obvious resource. It’s also the least important one in the game. The biggest resource the Oxford Unabridged Dictionary, or more specifically, your ability to memorize and access those words.

Here’s a more eccentric example. The Resistance is a game about hidden roles and espionage. The game itself is fairly simple; two teams, resistance fighters and spies, try to win three missions. The spies know who’s on whose team, and the resistance has to smoke them out through accusations, extrapolation, and sometimes outright guessing. The game has no traditional resources, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. I would say the most important resource you have is trust. You earn it through lies and clever play, and you lose it through missteps or simply being in a bad situation with more consummate charlatans.

What I’m getting at here is that being aware of what’s available to you is important in understanding a game, and in making strong decisions. Good games are all about interesting decisions, and those decisions are informed by what you can do in a game, and what you can do is defined by what resources to bring to bear.

The Wide World of Gaming

Athletes and professional video gamers view their time, their physical endurance and their mental acuity as resources. The French Open is happening right now, and already there are talks of Rafael Nadal struggling to close out his first round. It happens every year, and every year since Rafa’s 2005 victory he’s won the French Open (except 2009, and we’re all happy Federer finally got one). I don’t think Nadal is struggling, I think he’s conserving himself. He doesn’t need to use all his strength to defeat lesser opponents.

The other day I was reading an old book on Pac Man strategy. Yes, really. The book talks about using your time well, resting during the intermission scenes, and staying relaxed and focused. Fighting game professionals don’t go all out for their opening matches, as the mental fatigue drastically reduces their strength in later rounds, though sometimes they’ll attempt to finish matches quickly to give themselves more time to rest. RTS masters are as concerned with time and momentum as they are with the game’s endogenous resources. And anyone who thinks the resources in poker are limited to your chip stack will be sorely and expensively mistaken.

Billy Mitchell knows what I’m talking about

But Back To The Point

My advice to Perich crystallized a thought that I sort of knew but never put into words. For my part, I love games where the resources aren’t just measured by tokens or currency, but also by creativity and time-management. Every game has a resource, and as such, resource management is part of every game. And sometimes the key is to be aware of which resources are the important ones. After all, if we hadn’t managed our time so well we may have never gotten to play at all.

I’m pretty adamant about the importance of theme and story in games. A fun game (and a great game night) is more than the sum of rules, pieces, and mathematical combinations that make up the game system. Games are a sort of living art. But I also hold in high regard the actual quality of the play itself. So next time you play a game, keep in mind that you have a lot more to work with than the cards in your hand, the cash under the board, or the tiles in the rack. And of course, be brief with the jawing and debate of the evening’s game selection, and get to gaming!

Talking It Out

I’ve said it over and over again, but the most fun part about games remains the actual human interaction you get while playing. And while any game will allow you to talk about the local sports team while you play, not every game lets you talk about the game you’re actually playing. Some games, like Settlers of Catan, force you to talk about what you’re doing; you have to talk to each other to trade. Other games aren’t as encouraging, but allow for it by giving everyone enough information to discuss moves (Stone Age, Industrial Waste), which leads me to say things like “really? I thought you’d be going for the field this turn.”

I played a game of Chess a few days ago for the first time in what has to be years and was struck by the way my playing of other games had influenced how I treated it. Chess is similar to Puerto Rico (alright, Puerto Rico is similar to Chess, it’s been around much longer) in that there is no randomness; every play can be analyzed on a “if I do X then you do Y then I do Z and you…” train of thought until the end state of the game (potentially, of course, unless you’re playing Deep Blue, then it is definitely). It’s strange how this affects table talk. You could tell your opponent when they are leaving their queen vulnerable or you could try to talk them into making a mistake, but neither is very satisfying. The latter feels mean and the former feels like you’re just playing yourself.

Talking strategy ended up costing me, as I told my opponent when they made a particularly bad play, and let them take it back (Also costing me: the hubris of thinking I was a superior player). Later when I made a play that was not obviously bad but led to me losing a rook and being out of position, my opponent’s first words were  “wow, that’s a great move” rather than what I ended up saying “Man that was over aggressive. That probably cost me the game.” (Spoiler alert: It Did). If I had shut up I would have been in a much better position, but, well, I enjoy talking too much.

A much more fun game happened a couple of weeks back, when my friend Mark, Brandon’s friend David and I took a first crack at Snowdonia.* Mark had only played it a couple of times and it was the first time for both David and I. Snowdonia was very Euro in that everything you could do would give you points (or cards that would make other moves stronger further down the road), and the game was entirely about maximizing what points you could get with your two workers each turn. I found it agonizing in the best kind of way.

My agonizing and talking about each individual move ended up making the game take longer than it should have, and David, apologizing profusely, had to leave with the game only midway through. What followed was one of the more interesting things I’ve done gaming-wise in quite some time: Mark and I decided to play David’s turns for him, as well as our own. This allowed us to discuss how the game was progressing, what moves might be optimal and why, but doing it in the third person rather than asking for our opponent’s help with our own moves. It didn’t feel like that game of chess, it felt like a co-op game where we happened to be playing against each other. “David’s” moves were never to block the other person’s or to directly get out of the way. We played “David” as we thought the real David would play. I walked out of the game with a better appreciation for the strategy than almost any other maiden voyage with a game. I got indirect advice and answers to my “why isn’t this the obvious play?” question without giving away what I wanted to do. Digging deep into the game was one of the more enjoyable experiences I’ve had boardgaming in quite some time.

From this unique experience I made a realization that bums Brandon out. His new favorite game is Android: Netrunner.** The game seems pretty well put together, and even while seeing that it has potential I didn’t find myself enjoying it. I’ve come to realize that it actively discourages table talk.*** The megacorporation plays cards face down. Everything it does is in secret, and the hacker can spend significant resources only to find that what the megacorporation has been hiding was a trap the whole time. It requires bluffing and has numerous important pieces of information that are hidden. Any discussion had about the game has to be taken with a large game of salt, as it starts to feel like the battle of wits from The Princess Bride.

“Listen, the never get involved in a land war in Asia line was CLEARLY about Risk strategy”

The tension built up from a game of Netrunner is probably what some people love about it. I’m not here to say that they’re wrong, just that I need that tension released. A game that should have no table talk but still felt fun was a recent game of Noir**** that I played with Brandon and Katie (Brandon’s fiancé). The game is fairly simple and not without its flaws (the game ended in a 2-2-2 tie as we all figured out who the other person was and there was no way we’d then end up next to each other without getting hit first) but it led to a beautiful moment where I moved Katie’s character out of the way of Brandon’s (I had figured out who they both were but Katie didn’t seem to have known) and whispered “I’m saving your life” which caused Brandon (and then me) to break into hysterical laughter. This tension breaking discussion about the game was probably not helpful in terms of winning. If Brandon didn’t know that I knew who he was, he may have been more reckless about his own movement and let himself end up next to me. But because the game moved quicker (and because I had had a couple of beers), I was more willing to give myself a slightly lower chance of winning to get some more enjoyment out of the game.

Watch out for Ryan, he only looks young and innocent… 

Now, obviously, not everyone gets pleasure from boardgaming the same way. Some people want their game to tell a story and hate that euro games use little wooden cubes. Some people want to wreck each other’s shit and some people want to play Dominion without any attack cards. Brandon loves the mindfuck that is ever present in Netrunner and I hate the way it makes me shut up. Before Innovation took the crown of my new favorite game, Stone Age was the reigning champ for quite some time in large part because it encouraged me to ask why someone made the choice that they made, because if I were them I would’ve gone the other way. In improv, its bad form to talk about what you’re doing, but in boardgaming? I find it delightful.
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*Snowdonia is a very Euro-style worker placement game, but unlike most worker placement games I’ve played, you only get two workers per turn (eventually you can get up to 4, but it is costly).

** Netrunner is a card game set in a dystopian future wherein a Hacker tries to get into a megacorporation’s mainframe. It isn’t really a deck building game, but I don’t know how to describe it.

***To be clearer: it discourages helpful table talk. It highly encourages you to lie to your opponent and to get them to make mistakes. Given the option between antagonistic table talk and none, I find myself (personally) wishing for none.

****Noir is a game where the board is a grid of faces, and you are trying to figure out who everyone else is, and then move your card next to theirs so that you can kill them, before they do the same to you.