Archive for August, 2007

Dinosaurs are Totally Rad

About a week ago, at the first annual Austin Stink boardgame party, I played a “getting to know you” type game . Everyone submitted a bunch of situations or things and they were drawn randomly from a hat. Each person had to sort the items from most preferable to least preferable while everyone else tried to guess what order they would put them in.

When it was my turn to sort a batch of weird possibilities, one of Nukes’ entries came up: “Being able to transform into a dinosaur.” I failed to put that as my #1 choice and it sparked a heated debate between us. Nukes said something to the effect of “OMG! Dinosaurs are totally rad!” while I laid out a carefully reasoned argument about the consequences of being a dinosaur/human hybrid freak. Well, maybe he had a good argument as well, but this is MY blog.

As a compromise, I made an image to illustrate how awesome it would be. Click on the thumbnail to see it.

Flotsam

As the ship sank, I could only recall the sailors’ warnings of the mermaids who patrolled these waters.

“Do not make eye contact, for you will find only an eyeliner-traced Charybdis, ready to take you down. Their lips are glossy like wet succulent plums that promise you nothing but sleepless nights. Their pale slender fingers are adept at snatching heart-shaped fish hiding behind rib-shaped coral. Do not offer to buy them a drink; water is their element and they will never be thirsty for anything you can afford. And, when it comes to mermaids, if you have any sense at all, you should not look upon their MySpace page. Their top 12 were filled by bulky GQ mermen ages ago and this is only the beginning of your despair.”

Flotsam floated around me, the ruin of some ill-conceived plan to sail as fast as the sun so it would always be today and never the day she said “so long.” I swim towards the island, pursued by seven storms, each with a woman’s name.

I push into the tavern, a gritty sheen of sand covering my face with a five-o’clock shadow. The journey’s just a dream by now: desert, ocean, beach, an eruption of green and Texas accents, heat like lonely nightsweats. The chairs here are solid and storm resistant, but I can’t trust them yet. The mermaids circle in schools, smoking cigarettes pulled out of purses crafted from the tanned hides of former lovers. Their tails are disguised beneath boots and I can already imagine their heelprints in my back.

Suddenly you’re standing there, poise of a queen with a kingdom on her mind and a neck strong enough to make it look easy. You start speaking to me and I wonder if there’s been some mistake because can’t you see my name spelled out across the beach in broken masts and tattered sails? You flash a smile and I want to take it home with me to look at on rainy days. You’re talking to me like you’ve actually put some thought into it and you’re not just killing time. I thought I knew cruelty until I saw the stretch of your jeans over the curve of your hip. I don’t know the color of your eyes yet because I still believe the sailors.

Now we are moving through the crowd. You cut through the room like the prow of a ship, chin angled up, never slowing down, like you’ve got shit to do and it can’t wait, even if you just need a cigarette. I’m a short distance behind, walls of water closing in. “Excuse me,” I say to the crush of bodies. “Please excuse me. I still smell of shipwreck.” But no one is listening.

Outside, mermen beg to light your cigarette and their Zippos wane in the glow of your hair, a sudden sunrise on the water at 10 o’clock at night. Our talk turns to mangos, which grow in plenty on this island. I want to pick them all for you and put them at your feet. Something swirls in your eyes and I hear sailor’s cries but I’m already sinking.

And somehow, the saltwater tastes sweet.

State of the Game

An update on House of Whack

No matter how many times I brought up the fact that the printer was able to create nice glossy, tri-fold cards that didn’t fall apart, they would not acknowledge it. They either would completely ignore the message or say ridiculous things like the nice glossy cards were identical to the horrible cards that fell apart.

Their final solution was to laminate the cards. This initially looked okay, but then the laminate started to blister and wrinkle. Also, they wanted an extra $950.

Since all the other cards they have done look great, I decided to just redesign the entire Guest deck as non-folding cards about 2/3rds the size of the current cards. One of my original designs involved a card that could be rotated one way or the other, like some Magic cards I had seen. Mischa reminded me of this design when he suggested it himself. I had been so enamored with the cleverness of the trifold concept that I had abandoned this rotating card idea.

So now I am almost done recreating the Guest cards in the new format. This has also given me an opportunity to tweak a few abilities and make some edits. Since the manual, box and quick start guide make reference to tri-fold cards, I will have to include an errata sheet explaining the change. This will also be an opportunity to get people to go to the web site and download the latest version of the manual. There have been some significant changes to the play mechanics. Or rather, I have a collection of house rules I recommend that people use.

I’ve designed the game so that it can be “patched,” updated, and modded pretty easily, which is coming in handy now.

Just Say No

No.

No, I don’t want to do it.

No, I don’t want to answer your email.

No, I am not reliable.

No, I won’t finish it.

No, I’m not the one for you.

No, I won’t rescue you.

No, you didn’t ask what I wanted.

No, you weren’t paying attention.

No, I don’t owe you anything.

No, I’m not going to be what you expect me to be.

A Kutschfahrt is not as uncouth as it sounds

Majcher showed up tonight at Great Hall with gaming goodness fresh from Germany. My very own copy of Die Kutschfahrt zur Teufelsburg (Coach Ride to Devil’s Castle, bom bum buuuuuumm!) had arrived! After a vicious game of Jungle Speed in which Nukes was actually wounded (Marc took a photo of the blood) and several people (including myself) almost took a totem to the face from Marc’s Strength 18 lunges, I peeled off the wrapper and we played us some Coach Ride.

This is the game of Coach Ride. In the game of Coach Ride, the players represent various hotties and consummate badasses in some European country (perhaps old Romania) where Van Helsing is not just a line of clothing, it’s a lifestyle choice. Each belongs to one of two secret societies with their own agendas. They find themselves sharing the same coach, drawn by midnight black steeds pulling the party inexorably closer to the crooked shadow of Devil’s Castle. How to pass the time? Ah, yes, let us have a battle of wits to determine where everyone’s allegiance lies.

The crux of the game is trying to find out who is on your team and who is your enemy. There can be no table talk on this matter: overtly hinting that you are on a particular side is verboten. Instead, a player makes an “attack” on another player. The remaining players decide to side with the attacker or the defender or to sit it out, watching what unfolds. The winner is allowed to look at the loser’s affiliation, gaining one of the most important bits of information in the game. Did the player just attack a friend? From this point on, the winner’s actions should be informed by this new knowledge. The best way to let someone know you are their side is to support their actions. If they attack, you assist in the attack. If they defend, you defend. It is really frustrating when people don’t observe this basic tactic.

Now, it would be too simple if all you had to do was determine everyone’s allegiance. No. Each side is also trying to secure either three goblets or three keys. Without these artifacts, they may not declare victory and they will become the laughing stock of the Romanian Secret Society Review. So in addition to attacks, players may propose trades, in secret, with another player. Everyone starts with two items, some of them goblets, some keys, and the rest weapons or other useful items. Carefully observing two players’ attitudes during a trade can reveal as much as winning an attack. Also, familiarity with all the possible items can inform you as to what is going on and you can begin to theorize why Player A may have proposed such a trade with Player B.

Last night, we played with six people, only one of which had never taken the ride. Overall, the game ran like a well-oiled coach. Allegiances were determined within 2 or 3 rounds and then the gloves came off. Marc’s ruthless eleventh-hour offer of the black pearl (an item which prevents a player from declaring victory for his team) to me actually won us the game. It prevented me from overconfidently declaring victory prematurely. I was convinced that between Nick, Monkeyman Dan and myself, we had three goblets. I knew Dan had two goblets and he had given one to me. Did he give the other to Nick in a trade? Surely one of us had a third goblet! But I was wrong. I had a bag which turned into a goblet when all the item cards were gone, but there was one left in the stack! New Guy on my left attacked me, using his special power to prevent anyone else from joining in. I cleverly forced the conflict into a draw, making him take that last item. My bag was now a goblet! Sensing the planets had aligned, Nick instantly declared victory for our side!

And that’s Coach Ride.