Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Bless me, Father - for I have sinned. It has been about a month since my last confession.
Last night, despite my better judgment and ignoring all signals, omens and portents, I played in a Magic: The Gathering draft again. It was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a disaster because it was a 13 person 'pod' and, as usual in those circumstances, the luck of what you open plays a greater part (things just don't "table"). In addition, my continuing unfamiliarity with the 'new set(s)' meant that I was probably gifting my neighbors some amazing stuff. There ARE mitigating circumstances to all of this, though I do feel dirty at being £12 out-of-pocket when I could've better spent that on pies.
When we arrived, I did that fateful, sociable thing of 'having a chat' with someone - during this intercourse (saucy!), the other board gamers ONCE AGAIN settled themselves into groups and began playing. When I ambled, genially, to those tables especially set aside for the purpose - my choice was either WATCH a four-player London or join in a 5 player Thunderstone: Dragonspire where the other 4 players were a) a little of the un-fast play persuasion and b) playing it for the first time ever. Now, I know I complain a lot about the 'regular guys' being better at Thunderstone than me and getting it better and spending long hours watching them fiddle with their decks (matron!) etc, so this COULD have been an opportunity to 'shark' the lot of 'em...but, realistically, I was staring down the barrel of 2 hours of slow shuffling and confused card-play.
So I opted for M:TG instead...and got pretty much the same. The terrible, awful, embarrassing result of my ill-considered TCG outlay was:
Round 1: Beaten 2-0 by a girl
Round 2: Drew 1-1 (lucky me) with a child
Round 3: Beaten 2-0 by another child
It would be safe to say that I can't play Magic: The Gathering for toffee...not even for a picture of toffee. I could complain about mana screw or mana glut, but *sigh* surely it's time to change the arse-rattling record?
With this catastrophic and be-littling experience in mind, I have now pinned a bloody big note to my forehead reading: "NEVER TALK TO ANYONE AT THE HEMEL HEMPSTEAD CLUB EVER AGAIN UNTIL YOU'RE IN A GAME YOU WANT TO BLOODY PLAY"
Of course, there ARE worse gaming situations to find yourself in:
[a] Snow-bound on a remote Scottish Isle with nothing but a Doctor Who obsessive and a copy of Pictionary to hand (but no pens and/or paper)
[b] Forced, by a Court Community Service Order, to teach Monopoly to crack-addicted, 11 year old knife-smiths in a collapsed tower block
[c] Participating in an impromptu session of "Butchers' Bausack" using internal organs and offal
[d] Playing Small World with midgets, dwarves and other folk of diminutive stature
[e] Strip Dominion - whenever anyone else buys a Province lose them pants, Buster!
Finally, in honour of the forthcoming Royal nuptials, here are some humble suggestions for the couple to take on their honeymoon:
- 7 Windsors
- Paris Paris Underpass / Blood Royale (all over the seats)
- Paparazziclip Railways
- Race for the Monarchy
- Willsenstein / Kate & Chocolate
- In The Year Of The Rabbit
- Bullet-proof Automobile
- Fzzzt! (in line to the Throne)
- (Lots of cheap souvenir tat) For Sale!
Are you still here?