I thought that I would start off with a report of a recent homely little game that I tracked down called Wabash Cannonball. For warnings, it is the most unappealing game that I own--the map and two side "boards" are nothing more than laminated pieces of paper with some minor little afterthoughts of color. The money is glorified construction paper, as are some of the shares. But the colored cubes are pure-euro. It does not have a conventional box, just a snap-shut plastic job. So, if you are swayed heavily by the appearance of a game, look elsewhere. It is just awful looking.
But if a game earns its keep solely by how it plays, then there is no greater example than Wabash Cannonball. I have never played a game that packs so much cutthroat play, cooperation, every man for himself gameplay into 45-60 minutes. I have only been able to play one 2 player game and one 6 player game--while 2 is not enough, and 6 is way too many, the game, when played with 3-4 people will (I believe) smash people in the mouth and leave them asking for more. Allow me to elaborate on how it all works.
At the start of the game, shares are auctioned off for 5 historic railroads. They all start on the east side of a hex map of the Eastern/Central United States. Each time a share is auctioned, the money is paid directly into that railroads treasury. Then, play begins with whomever holds a certain share of the starting railroad. On your turn, you are allowed to either expand the railroad (using only the money from the railroads treasury--thus, no money=no expansion), industrialize a city that the railroad runs through (basically, make your railroad worth more), or begin an auction for any other available railroad. These decisions (as they are called in the game) are tracked on a--surprise!--decision track. Once all of two of the types of decisions have been used a set number of times, then payouts occur based on the railroads income. The only way to make more money is to either buy stocks (which essentially make the railroads both stronger and worth less at the same time) or expand the railroad in anticipation of future payouts--which always help others who either have or will buy shares in the future.
Sound complex? Boring? Railroad-y? Yes, but not really. In actual play, it is simple--the complexity only comes in when you are trying to decide between 3 options. It is the polar opposite of boring--you cannot help but wonder at how the game plays in spite of how it looks. While playing with 6, I discovered that the only way to get closer to winning (whoever ends up with the most money at the end wins) is to simultaneously help your opponents and force them to cough up more money to win an auction of a share of a railroad that they already own. That, and keep your eye on what your own railroad is doing.
60 minutes (at most, though with 6 players it might last longer) of fast, agonizing, and highly competitive gameplay. Give it a chance, and you should find yourself hunting it down soon after.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Atop the cardboard soapbox....further worthless thoughts on the ridiculous debate over the origins and/or composition of boardgames
I did spend a bit of time last night surfing Fortress: Ameritrash. What an incredibly interesting site. Those guys are passionate about the hobby, huh. While I think that they go a little overboard on some of their Euro bashing (after all, they are just games....), it is very refreshing to see some well-formed opinions on some popular games (boy, do they hate Caylus or what?).
I have heard about this hobbywide (in)famous blog, and I was drawn to it's somewhat coarse sense of intelligence. I really enjoyed reading most of the stuff that was there--only reservation was, like I said, they tend to sway a bit to the overboard side sometimes in their attacks on various games. That said, I think that they are simply trying to counteract the masses that fall in line with their adulation of popular Euros. One thing that I realized the other night, while playing Goa (an extremely dry and themeless game that is incredible in its interaction, mechanics, and thought-provocation)--Euros are quite often brain-excercises, while so-called AT games are meant to be immersive entertainment, dropping you in the middle of this alternate reality, making you feel like you are part of that alternate reality, and forcing you to roll with whatever punches are tossed your way.
What do you think of this assessment: Euros are for those who want to feel like they control:
1. The outcome (their "destiny" so to speak)
2. The circumstances (strategy trumps luck/chance)
3. The flow of life (you go where you plan to go, and do what you scheme to do--the biggest variable being other players)
While AT games are for those who:
1. Don't mind fielding bad-hops (an overcoming of awful dice rolls)
2. Want to feel like they are experiencing whatever it is they are attempting (much like many RPGs)--want to hunt Dracula? Good luck finding him first!
3. Feel that games ought to represent the way things are in life--you cannot control everything.
Hmm. The blog just got me thinking, and assessing what attracts me to games so much. I was playing Age of Empires III the other night, a game which is roundly smashed on F:AT, and thinking about how much I love that game in spite of its unabashed Euro-infatuatedness. It is a blast for me to clash my wits against others--regardless of how much far removed that actual clashing may be from what I am actually doing. On the other hand, it is hard (for me at least) to beat a loud game of Arkham Horror, where, heck I may get devoured because things aren't rolling my way, but, by gee, I am going to roll with the punches.
To wit: In a strategy-laden Euro-fest, I will likely flounder. But most of the time, that is because I am distracted by how much fun I am having playing the game, how much fun I am having matching wits (however lacking I may be) with the other players. So I love it. Goa is so dry, it is a visual disaster (what an amazingly awful game to behold...), and its mechanics are so far divorced from its theme. But I think it is one heck of an excercise. Perhaps more of an exercise than a game.
Also, planning, strategy, and player control of outcomes hardly exist in Arkham Horror, and, possibly to a greater degree, Last Night on Earth. Try as you might, in the end, it all comes down to one simple thing: how the dice shake out. That is an incredible amount of outcome to place on a handful of little numbered cubes. But these very facts are so entertaining: that every single game will play out at least a bit differently every single time, that you are always teetering on the brink of destruction, failure, victory and conquest--always, always, based on time, chance, and space.
So please, just give me a good game. But at the end of the day, it does not matter how the game "works", so long as the leaden shroud of the mundane is torn asunder, and, for 15 minutes or 4 hours, I am thrust headlong into the throes of that which is removed from what will ever happen to me, be it knighthood, vampire hunting, locomotives, goods trading, electioneering, global politicking, or any other sort of conquest.
So long as it is a conquest, and I am some part of it.
I have heard about this hobbywide (in)famous blog, and I was drawn to it's somewhat coarse sense of intelligence. I really enjoyed reading most of the stuff that was there--only reservation was, like I said, they tend to sway a bit to the overboard side sometimes in their attacks on various games. That said, I think that they are simply trying to counteract the masses that fall in line with their adulation of popular Euros. One thing that I realized the other night, while playing Goa (an extremely dry and themeless game that is incredible in its interaction, mechanics, and thought-provocation)--Euros are quite often brain-excercises, while so-called AT games are meant to be immersive entertainment, dropping you in the middle of this alternate reality, making you feel like you are part of that alternate reality, and forcing you to roll with whatever punches are tossed your way.
What do you think of this assessment: Euros are for those who want to feel like they control:
1. The outcome (their "destiny" so to speak)
2. The circumstances (strategy trumps luck/chance)
3. The flow of life (you go where you plan to go, and do what you scheme to do--the biggest variable being other players)
While AT games are for those who:
1. Don't mind fielding bad-hops (an overcoming of awful dice rolls)
2. Want to feel like they are experiencing whatever it is they are attempting (much like many RPGs)--want to hunt Dracula? Good luck finding him first!
3. Feel that games ought to represent the way things are in life--you cannot control everything.
Hmm. The blog just got me thinking, and assessing what attracts me to games so much. I was playing Age of Empires III the other night, a game which is roundly smashed on F:AT, and thinking about how much I love that game in spite of its unabashed Euro-infatuatedness. It is a blast for me to clash my wits against others--regardless of how much far removed that actual clashing may be from what I am actually doing. On the other hand, it is hard (for me at least) to beat a loud game of Arkham Horror, where, heck I may get devoured because things aren't rolling my way, but, by gee, I am going to roll with the punches.
To wit: In a strategy-laden Euro-fest, I will likely flounder. But most of the time, that is because I am distracted by how much fun I am having playing the game, how much fun I am having matching wits (however lacking I may be) with the other players. So I love it. Goa is so dry, it is a visual disaster (what an amazingly awful game to behold...), and its mechanics are so far divorced from its theme. But I think it is one heck of an excercise. Perhaps more of an exercise than a game.
Also, planning, strategy, and player control of outcomes hardly exist in Arkham Horror, and, possibly to a greater degree, Last Night on Earth. Try as you might, in the end, it all comes down to one simple thing: how the dice shake out. That is an incredible amount of outcome to place on a handful of little numbered cubes. But these very facts are so entertaining: that every single game will play out at least a bit differently every single time, that you are always teetering on the brink of destruction, failure, victory and conquest--always, always, based on time, chance, and space.
So please, just give me a good game. But at the end of the day, it does not matter how the game "works", so long as the leaden shroud of the mundane is torn asunder, and, for 15 minutes or 4 hours, I am thrust headlong into the throes of that which is removed from what will ever happen to me, be it knighthood, vampire hunting, locomotives, goods trading, electioneering, global politicking, or any other sort of conquest.
So long as it is a conquest, and I am some part of it.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
zzz
we played a game of GOA last night. it was pretty fun, but i'm still so baffled by the very poor graphic design of the board/pieces. why don't the spice colors match the spice markers? very silly.
and right now jay's sitting at the table with jordan & todd. i think they forget that i'm in the house. and now i'm going to bed. so nice to have competition back in the air. aaah.
and right now jay's sitting at the table with jordan & todd. i think they forget that i'm in the house. and now i'm going to bed. so nice to have competition back in the air. aaah.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
boring
our game blog is boring. we've been busy with stuff. more later, when we finally play some games.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
samurai
Blogmaster ("BM" as i like to call him) cannot overcome my mad Samurai skills.which reminded of us our game-playing last winter, when i was pregnant with our third love-child. or, as i put it earlier, "yeah, when i was always edgy, crabby, & my temper was atrocious." there are many funny memories from that long winter or largeness, and many of them involve playing games & our fuses being too short.
the infamous carcassonne tile flying across the kitchen and into the pantry is my favorite one. i never did anything like that, that i can remember. only BM did.
game table
the blogmaster went to a game convention a few weekends ago. a few pictures from that GLORIOUS trip.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Without a needle or a spoon
Anybody that knows me well will attest to the fact that I have a fairly addictive personality--meaning that if something strikes my bones right, I will hang on to it for dear life for quite a while. Certain candies can do this to me (every so often, I get on a Baby Ruth kick), or television shows (especially 24) can also bring this out. But nothing in recent memory has struck me as this hobby has. Today, as I was listening to the new Kanye West while mowing my parents' lawn, I wondered why games in general have such a rabid following. Why are there so many of us that have to have that game?
My first thought was the elusive greatest deal ever. Boardgames are not cheap (at least the good ones aren't--typically)--Memoir '44 will set you back more than $30. Usually, bigger games run right around this price range. But there are also plenty of smaller games that cost quite a bit for what they are (San Juan retails for $23-$25 I believe, and really is just a deck of cards with a few tiles). So, if you are a more dedicated gamer who loves your games and is always on the lookout for the next great game, when you come across a game that is either:
A) Headed towards being out of print
B) A few dollars cheaper than you can normally find it (ahem, Tanga)
C) The last copy at a convention/game store
D) Cool bits, artwork, mechanics, etc.
or
E) any combination of the above,
then it becomes irresistible to you. That game has your name on it. Your collection becomes incomplete in your eyes without it. I know--I suffer this.
Part of it is the American way--you have to have what you do not already possess. If it resembles meat, then it must be steak, right?
Part of it is exclusivity. This is well-done by the publishers in the hobby. Only 1000 copies of a popular game might be printed. Once they are gone, then, if you are lucky, there may be another print run. In 6 months, you might get that game.
Part of it is price. Like I said, games are expensive. Knock a few bucks off the cheapest price, and man you'll sell a ton of stuff (not always games). Tanga has mastered this philosophy. Toss in the occasional decent price on a very hot game, and you will sell lots of mediocre games, along with flashlights, corded phones, and popcorn tins. But, when you see Shogun for $41 instead of $43, then it becomes a no-brainer. Right?
So what do you make of all of this?
My first thought was the elusive greatest deal ever. Boardgames are not cheap (at least the good ones aren't--typically)--Memoir '44 will set you back more than $30. Usually, bigger games run right around this price range. But there are also plenty of smaller games that cost quite a bit for what they are (San Juan retails for $23-$25 I believe, and really is just a deck of cards with a few tiles). So, if you are a more dedicated gamer who loves your games and is always on the lookout for the next great game, when you come across a game that is either:
A) Headed towards being out of print
B) A few dollars cheaper than you can normally find it (ahem, Tanga)
C) The last copy at a convention/game store
D) Cool bits, artwork, mechanics, etc.
or
E) any combination of the above,
then it becomes irresistible to you. That game has your name on it. Your collection becomes incomplete in your eyes without it. I know--I suffer this.
Part of it is the American way--you have to have what you do not already possess. If it resembles meat, then it must be steak, right?
Part of it is exclusivity. This is well-done by the publishers in the hobby. Only 1000 copies of a popular game might be printed. Once they are gone, then, if you are lucky, there may be another print run. In 6 months, you might get that game.
Part of it is price. Like I said, games are expensive. Knock a few bucks off the cheapest price, and man you'll sell a ton of stuff (not always games). Tanga has mastered this philosophy. Toss in the occasional decent price on a very hot game, and you will sell lots of mediocre games, along with flashlights, corded phones, and popcorn tins. But, when you see Shogun for $41 instead of $43, then it becomes a no-brainer. Right?
So what do you make of all of this?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)