Simon Robinson
England
Bewdley
Confusion
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My group has grown weary recently of over-rated games.
Caylus? Tedyus
San Juan? San Yawn
Ra? Rather play something else.
Snakes and Ladders it is then!
Now picture the scene; there's Dave, numerical supremo who is capable of playing Power Grid without sorting my money into little piles.
There's me, cognitive God who can spin more permutations in my head simulataneously than is possible for a skullful of neurons to physically cope with, so that when I play Princes of Florence and it comes to the bit where I get my actions, I can still remember what plan I came up with at the start of the auction phase. I also have the ONLY true tactic for winning Puerto Rico every time. (Scroll to the bottom for the answer)
There's Elf, tactical wargaming genius who plays the Hammer of the Scots to perfection and doesn't put on a Mel Gibsonesque Scottish mauled accent once.
There's Brett, This man plays trading and negotiation games so well that we don't let him choose the game lest he talk us into playing something hideous and annoying, but actually enjoying it because he sold it so well.
And there's John,the ultimate concilliator who plays games by being everybodies friend until the final moment, when he shows his ruthless streak and anhilalates us. But he's still so damned nice that we fall for it again the following weak.
Anyway, Thursday comes around and we're at Dave's. This is good (He supplies copious amounts of food and drink, excellent wine and cider and he has an ipod with a radio link so we don't have to keep getting up every hour or so and argueing about what to listen to next.) It's also bad in that his games room has a laminated floor and his table has castors; playing games at Dave's is a bit like taking part in a seance to contact Sid Sackson. He also works for Rolls Royce but does he bring us any freebies? No. What a tight wad.
We set the game up and the fight starts right from the off. Brett picks Yellow. I'm stunned and hurt.
I'm yellow. Brett's always Blue.
"What're you doing?" In my mind I say this rationally and calmly. In reality it comes out as a hysterical squawk.
"Mind games" he says, and smiles a snake like grin.
Seeing as I've now clearly already lost I have a sulk and go and make the tea.
Bad move.
In our group, going to make the tea is unwritten code for "Please get together and work out the best way to screw me over"
I realise this just as the water is boiling and I hear an ominous quiet coming from next door. Them 4 are never quiet. They're up to something. My mind reels. Did I see any crayons in the room? Could they be drawing in special reflective snakes on the board that are only visible from my seat? are they getting that rubbish fixed dice that always rolls 1 out just for me? Or are they voting to let Elf move all the pieces? (This is bad as Elf is almost completely incapable of counting. In his mind it goes "1, 2, 3.....lots" Direction is also pretty random with Elf, and my piece could just as easily move backwards as forwards.)
He get's away with it in 3 ways...
1> He actually does look like an Elf. (As opposed to Dave who looks like an Elk)
2> He's a Christian. A proper one. One of those Christians that doesn't even swear or steal or anything. How he gets along playing games I still don't know.
3> He was born with a pretty serious kidney condition.
All of these conditions mean that punching him in the face really, really hard would be frowned upon by the rest of the lads, and saying "Hey, back off losers; I used to be his uncle until I divorced my bitch-ex-wife/his-aunt, and all's fair in love and games." probably wouldn't work.
I decide that a preemptive strike is called for and slip a couple of exlax into each of their teas, except Elf's, cos an exlax would probably kill him and that would be going too far. So I just stir his tea with my manhood instead. That'll be them running to the loo every 5 minutes and allowing me to move their pieces backwards!
I go back in and they're not grinning. They're also drinking wine.
"We decided to switch to wine as the tea's been tasting a bit cheesy recently" says Brett.
Curses. That's plan A down the drain; I'll have to switch to plan B - actually playing the game and trying to win. I get that losing feeling all over again...
We sit down, crack open the Diggie biscuits and prepare for battle.
Brett goes first and rolls a 4. He then moves my yellow counter 4 spaces...and straight up a ladder! That wasn't just luck, that malice. There's him, sat on 26 all smiley and how-do-you-do, and he's using my counter to do it.
Dave rolls a 1. Ha! Good. Loser.
Elf rolls a 6 and opens his mouth before we cut him off "No, you don't get another go. It's not monopoly. Erer". (You have to stick your tongue into your bottom lip when you say this to get the full effect)
John gets a 5. Now normally I'd let it go. A 5 is after all, just a 5. But I know they're scheming
"I'm watching you Hunt" I say through slitted eyes.
"Great" he replies "An ugly stalker. It must be christmas" Smart Alec.
"'Spose you think you're funny?" I respond in my best Kirk Douglas way.
"Yeh, but clearly not as funny as your hairdresser"he replies, casually sipping his wine. I search around for a cutting and deeply hurtful attack that will cut him to the quick and show my rapier like wit to the full.
"And your mom" I reply, and fold my arms sitting back to enjoy the afterglow of their adulation.
Dave also has a ticking clock in his games room, that's another mark against him.
So it's my turn. 1.
"Join the club" says Dave.
"I wouldn't join any club that'd have you as a member" I say, paraphrasing Groucho. Dave looks perplexed.
"But you already have", he says, pointing at the board.
Another mark against him. Sarcasm doesn't work on Dave.
Brett's go. He rolls and moves my counter 3. Not 4 that would have taken him down a snake to number 3. Oh no! a 3. A nice safe 3. To darned lucky if you ask me...
Dave rolls 4.
Elf rolls.
"No" we all chime, silencing him before he asks the inevitable question.
John rolls a 5.
I roll a 6. I get a round of applause from the lads and a couple of whistles. Unfortunately, Sarcasm does work on me. John pats me on the back. It's almost too much and I can feel about 6 pints of blood trying to get into my head at the same time.
Brett gets a 3.
Dave gets a 1. I snigger and look down on him from my lofty position of 4th.
Elf rolls a 5.
I roll a 3. Ladder! Up to 49! I leap from my seat, put my thumbs up, extend my forefingers and place both of the V's thus created against my head.
"Winner!" I shout, doing my victory dance, followed bt a quick rendition of "You're not singing anymore! "while jeering and going "Aaaaah!" pointing at them in turn.
Have I mentioned Dave's clock?
I sit down quietly and munch my Diggie.
Brett rolls a 5. Ladder. Up to 33.
"I wish I knew some of those kicking moves you were just throwing" he sighs "Then I could be a minger-magnet like you"
"Shut up and drink your tea" I reply.
Dave gets a 1. Ha.
Elf gets a one as well. Ladder, up to 37. Not on. Seriously not on. John gets a 5, then I get a 6. Yes!
"True class will always show in the end" I sigh.
Brett gets a 6. He's now on 45 and too close for comfort.
Dave gets a 5. Ladder, up to 49. Darn it.
Elf gets a 5. I'm getting suspicious. There's too many 5's and 6's coming out. I try the dice. 2, then a 1. H'm. Maybe they're doing it with magnets.
John gets a 6.
I get a 6. "Watch and learn boys" I say smiling.
"But we already know how to be boring, you taught us that several years ago" says Brett. The others laugh, even Elf. That doesn't seem very christian...
Brett gets a 3. Ladder. 92. 92! He's almost won.
Brett offers his elbow to me,
"For 50p you can touch me" he says smiling.
"Thanks" I mutter, "If I give you 5 quid can I use a cricket bat instead?"
Dave gets a 5.
Elf gets a 6. Snake! Down to 17.
"Ha!" I shout, "Loser!"Then feel bad about abusing a christian.
"When you get to heaven Elf, send Si a postcard so he can see what he'll be missing" says John.
John rolls a 2.
I roll 4. Ladder! up to 86.
"The face is on the case" I say smugly sliding his nasty blue counter up to within 5 of Brett's stollen yellow marker.
"Looks more the case was dropped on the face from 10 storeys from where I'm sitting" replies Brett. I decide that I don't actually like Brett, never have and will burn his house down next time he goes away on holiday.
Now it's getting tense; if Brett rolls a 2 or a 6, he's down a snake.
He rolls a 4. 4 from victory, but only 2 from a snake. The flame of hope in me hasn't been extinquished just yet...
Dave rolls a 5.
Elf rolls a 4.
John rolls a 6.
I roll a 6.
Brett rolls a 1. There's still a chance of him getting another 1 and dropping down to 37. As it is he's on 97. If I was Egyptian, I'd be sacrificing pigs to Horus, or is it Anubis? I can never remember who is the Egyptian God of dodgy dice rolls.
Dave gets a 5. Ladder, up to 95. The impertinence of it! He's trying to gatecrash my party.
Elf gets a 4.
John gets a 3.
I get a 4. Close, just 4 away. I can almost taste victory. My heart races and my palms sweat.
Brett gets a 2. He misses the snake, but he's left the door open for me to jump in. Victory is within my grasp! I start to plan out my victory acceptance speech. I might go for the Gwyneth Paltrow blarting routine, I'm feeling melodramatic...
Dave gets a 5. My world stops spinning and my eyes focus on his cruddy little grey piece like that bit in Jaws when the camera zooms in on the mayors face and the background shoots away into the distance. My eyes are telling me he's won, but my brain's refusing to accept it.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5. I win!" says Dave, counting off the places and grinning. Every body shakes his hand.
I'm speechless. My jaw gapes and I stammer a feeble "No...it can't be" my mind reels and my hand goes into autopilot and grabs a cup of tea and I take a swig.
"Hey!" moans Elf,"That was my tea!"
I groan. Not a good night at all.
How to win at PR: Go on eBay and search for "Barney". Buy Barney from Vladivostok. (He costs about £25) Barney only speaks Russian. When he arrives, teach him the rules of PR, but when you come to the bit about victory conditions, say this (I've typed it phonetically) "Shevna-jek, di barosni vako na Kreftsmin") Roughly translated this means "You win by playing the Craftsman card a lot". Sit immediately to Barney's left.
Works every time. For an extra £2000 you can get food, drink, clothes and some form of accomodation for Barney. They need feeding quite a lot I find.
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Simon Robinson
England
Bewdley
Confusion
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Re: Session report...Caylus Antidote
Barney update:::It seems that there's been a run of people buying up Barney to inflate the price and reduce the chances of others getting their own custom Barney.
I think prices are now up to £35. mind you...I have 30 of 'em in my shed...if you want one drop me a line.
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Yehuda Berlinger
Israel
Raanana
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Re: Session report...Caylus Antidote
Very cute.
Yehuda
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Re: Session report...Caylus Antidote
Of course the really sad bit about this is that I believe every word....
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Simon Robinson
England
Bewdley
Confusion
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Re: Session report...Caylus Antidote
debb wrote: Of course the really sad bit about this is that I believe every word....
That's because it's all true (Except for the stirring the tea bit; he drinks from a mug and there wouldn't be room...)
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Posted Fri Apr 14, 2006 10:55 pm
