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Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Unspecified
Unspecified
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Although it was cold and dark and damp, I returned to High Wycombe from a day’s slopping about the Nation’s Capital (working) in relative good humour.
Pish and fipsy to my (painful) encounter with a 50-something crone outside Victoria Station this morning – resolutely defying the ‘flow of traffic’, she battled against an on-coming wave of commuters (of which I was a part) with the poise and determination of a Rugby player descending to the scrum. Shoulder’s down, she cut through the throng like a snow plough in a kitten sanctuary. Ok, so the windows on my car were crusted with the first frost of the Season and it took a good ten minutes before I could see anything outside the vehicle? I let it trouble me not. To the ‘just-missed’ bus and the farting train-seat neighbour, I say: ‘Ain’t No Thang’. An evening of gaming would surely prove to be a welcome and hot chocolate-y remedy to the travails of a tiresome day!
The First Seal
Carl’s daughter was complaining of a deep and enduring hunger and our attempts to find out what Richard wanted from the takeaway (so we could put the order in) went unanswered. There was a danger she would’ve consumed most of the snacks in the building had the bearded one not turned up – and, for the briefest of moments, young Iain morphed into a steaming Suckling Pig in the manner of a Merry Melody cartoon while Hazel brandished a knife and fork!
The Second Seal
With food finally ordered and Hazel dispatched, with pastries, to the bosom of ‘How I Met Your Mother’, the rest of us (Carl, Richard, Tony, Iain) set about the serious work of Outpost. I’ve played Sceptre of Zavandor and Phoenicia before, so most of the rule-set for this ‘Grand-Daddy’ game was simple and uncomplicated – it comes down to a little luck for the arrangement of items for sale and the aggressiveness vs prudence of the auctions. In the first part of the session, we purchased water factories and very quickly divvied up the three ‘heavy equipment’ cards (the ones that give discounts to the Titanium Factory cards) – unfortunately for me, I was shut-out of these upgrades and ended up pulling in a Data Mining (future discount on Scientists) instead. Not wishing to run myself into a couple of rounds of forced ‘saving’, I increased my hand-size and waited patiently for the Scientists (40 credits but at a 10 cred discount) to come down so I could get Research labs instead (to compete with the massive Titanium production now visible around the rest of the table).
Scientists didn’t ‘get rolled’ and, therefore, didn’t appear in the auction. I harrumphed. Carl has TWO Data Mining’s and was harrumphing double as the ridiculous scenario of ‘never getting a Scientist into the game’ began to play itself out. I felt slightly cheated at this point – having, through no fault of my own, been kettled into a cul-de-sac by the game.
Supper arrived and, to avoid chilli-oil splashes and satay smudges on Richards pristine new copy, we paused the game for nourishment. Carl is an acknowledged ‘slow eater’ – partly because he masticates thoroughly and partly because his portions are so large, the plate looks like an open-cast mine (1:1 scale) ten minutes in.
(Hmmm...I'm feeling hungry again)
The Third Seal
With the rest of us now replete, a tension descended upon the infamous dining table as we were eager to ‘get going’ again. My own dismay at the situation I found myself in was making it hard to cope with side-tracking and delays – banter, distracting news headlines etc; I wanted the game to move swiftly on so that
a) I might find a groove, some momentum, and maybe pull something back (not possible, this is very much a ‘winners win more’ mechanism), and
b) the game would be over quicker and we could get something else in.
Nerves began to fray as Carl became aware that he was ‘slowing things down’ and pointedly thrust his unfinished meal aside so that we could continue. Despite our assurances that ‘we are happy to wait’, it was pretty clear that none of us actually wanted to wait at all. Short, staccato responses and defensive body-language ahoy!
The Fourth Seal
With only partial nutritional needs fulfilled, Carl and I resumed the second half in a two-player competition for 3rd/4th place while Richard and Iain danced about in the dizzy heights of twice the income we were getting. Opening bids of 107 or 135 were greeted with derisory snorts from the (hungry) big man and a sinking-of-the-stomach from me.
“I dream of having 107 credits”
At this point, it became harder and harder to sympathize (or even pay much attention) to any ‘issues’ that the leaders might have been having...not enough money to buy a Space Station AND more Titanium factories / robots? Ah, diddums (and a little stamping of the feet under the table). My own mood lifted slightly when I realized I could probably save some face and come 3rd as long as I didn’t f*ck it all up. There followed a pleasingly tense ‘kingmaker’ auction between myself and Richard – I couldn’t just let him bully me into submission, so a 120 Space Station rode up to ‘everything I had’ at 178 (148 plus a 30 credit discount) and a little victory within the bigger loss of a game was mine.
Never one to leave me a few minutes of glory-basking, Richard then makes statements like “now to buy something I REALLY want” and I realize I never want to play this game with him again!*
The Fifth Seal
Mercifully, Richard and Iain finally brought their mutual-masturbatory Outpost session to a satisfying (for them) climax and we were able to pack everything away. Post-match discussion was fairly minimal on account of the growing mood of tetchiness and frustration – yes, the ‘non-appearance’ of Scientists through the game WAS ‘very unusual’…(steam) (grimace) (scowl)
Personally, I blame the ‘short cut’ that Richard and Iain agreed on the dice rolls – “let’s not use the d8 and keep re-rolling, lets use a d6+4 instead”…my theory is that the aero-dynamic properties of a d8 vs d6 (and the fact the RULES said USE A d8) massively affected the physical incarnation of the statistical probabilities. I’m only slightly bitter.
The Sixth Seal
*Phew* With a clear table, and Carl resuming excavations into his outrageous Welsh Mountain of a supper, we turned to Iain (who was in charge of game selection for the evening) to choose the next item on the agenda.
“Agricola” spake the rotund (relatively) infant.
God love you, Iain – and all who sail in you! The atmosphere, previously slice-able, became relaxed and – dare I suggest? – warm! The comforting farm boards (me = snow, Richard = Wild West, Iain = Mars, Carl = Spring or Summer, I didn’t pay any attention), the caress of 3 Gamers Deck / 4 EIK in hand and the electric blanket of drafting put smiles on all of our faces.
I was pleased to collect an odd mix of cards that allowed me to get free sheep, turn sheep into vegetables at Harvest and thence to Schnapps. Add in a cheap Family Portrait (4 points), a well-stocked Pottery (4 points), a Headmaster (2 points) and other sundry items and my Occs/Minors tableau looked satisfyingly healthy! With three family members right up to Round 14, my animal-rich, bonus point heavy strategy took me to a joint victory with Iain (44 points each), followed by Carl on 33-ish and Richard on 31. Iain had lived up to his further educational roots and ‘Late Slept’ for a lot of the game and successfully exploited his Guest actions. I dislike the Agricolean tie-breaker (“most food”) - though, in this instance, converting two of my three grain would’ve given me the pip over our very own ‘Perpetual Student’. In the interests of Diplomacy, we let the draw stand.
This most perfect of play experiences was not without it’s moments of petulism, however, as a couple of mis-plays/mis-calculations from players (and a rather naughty bit of ‘you shouldn’t really be allowed to take that back’ fire-stoking from me) resulted in the skyward-launching of cards, shoving of wooden components and curmudgeonly barks of dismay. I pushed no further and backsies were performed.
The Seventh Seal
Thankfully, the great Apocalypse of which the Revelation to St John speaks was averted by it being a little too late to get stuck into a ‘rounding off’ Glory To Rome. Given the proliferation of hair-triggers, Wycombe would still have been burning this morning I fear.
Disaster averted, world saved - until next week, at least.
*He’s played it for 20+ years and has a natural aptitude for this style of game. It’s no fun sitting down at session-start knowing you’re pretty much playing for 2nd downwards.
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