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Chris Tannhauser
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Fig. 1 — It’s a trap!

I am the Naalu Collective, not who I wanted to be. I'm the crazy snake-ladies, and really, who hasn't dated one of those? I figured they'd see my moves coming from a mile away... But it turns out that boobs, even if they're green and pasted on a slimy reptile torso, still have the power to mesmerize.

Like most crazy snake-ladies, I get my way, always first, have the power to fade into the background when things get hectic, and once the slapping starts, my open hands tend to find the mark most stingingly.

Even so, things are not going well. I'm squatting on a measly 10 resources, and my six rivals have already boxed me into the back ass-pocket of the universe. The good news is that though my campaign to this point has created legions of orphans on the worlds I've 'liberated,' there is 100% employment in my erstwhile Empire, and no end of opportunity within my sprawling Orphan Legions:

Drop! Drop from the skies and bayonet the braying animals that pretend at peoplehood! For the Crazy Snake-Ladies! FOR BOOBIES!!!

But really, other than some catchy propaganda, I'm not doing much at all.

I take the hover-podium in the Galactic Senate and wave an Action Card menacingly at the filth-roiling barnyard that dares to call itself an Imperial civilization. The mass of things comes to order and I clear my throat.

"I need four trade goods," I intone, "or something truly terrible will happen."

Now, I fully expect to get roundly razzed, caned, and kicked in my snake-lady gonads. What happens next makes even my jaw drop.

"Who will it happen to?" barks a sub-sentient shaved-monkey thing that resembles pets or food somewhere.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I protest, "I could totally be faking it. This could be one of those crappy Action Cards that has no conceivable use ever. Surely you must realize that this could be a completely empty threat."

The thing takes a slow moment to consider this. "If I pay you six, will you let me decide who it happens to?"

I am incredulous. "So," I look around at the other six members, "everyone is good with the idea that I could by lying." My mind is racing—the implications for future extortion (for example, on every turn) are soul-boggling. All you need is an Action Card (any one will do) and fist-sized stones in your space-thong.

The shaved-monkey thing barks again. "I will pay you six if you do it to those talking cockroaches." Waving one of his pink, split-end bone-tentacles he indicates the Esteemed Representative of Once-Were-Maggots, crawling around on the ceiling.

The session erupts with invectives and much appendage waggling.

Everyone wants to pay me to 'do it' to their neighbors, but some races have more to offer than others. The poorer ones feel hard put upon—why should they suffer the wrath of my card simply because they can't afford my services?

I need to strike before they come to their senses... and so I accept the shaved monkey's six trade goods. The chamber falls into a soft hush as the talking cockroach avails me with his inscrutable and knobby sensory cluster. Our two fleets are massed at our mutual border, blueprints of genocide clutched in our admirals' hearts, waiting only for a single sour comment about mating habits, or for someone to take a dump on a flag, to unleash the scouring of entire worlds.

As much as I'd like a big scoop of that, I'd really rather do it to my left-most neighbor, the odious Whatever-the-Hell-Those-Things-Are. Never—never—has a lifeform cried out for extermination like they do.

"Naw," I say, "it's cool."

The talking cockroach roars with laughter as the shaved monkey sucks wind through one of its stink holes.

Yet another thing from the far side of the galaxy, a kind of wigless tranny, pipes up: "I'll pay you two just to look at the card."

"Why not?" I shrug. I stood before the senate to beg for four, expecting to get curbed and urinated on and I'm about to stroll out the door sportin' an eight-billion GalactiCred pimp hat.

He passes me the goods, I let him peek at the card. He makes an appreciative noise... and then whips out eight inches of double-cross to stick in me. He plays his own Action Card, one that allows him to steal two cards from any player. That would be me.

I grudge-shuffle my little stack, praying that that one card, please God-who-saw-fit-to-fill-the-universe-with-horrors-and-filibustering-foodstuffs-that-by-their-very-nature-cast-the-ultimate-doubt-upon-Intelligent-Design, don't let it get THAT card...

The thing pauses, relishing the moment, syphilitic manipulatory appendage wriggling in anticipation over my fanned hand. "Many Bothans died to bring us this information," it says.

"What?" something blurts.

"I said, 'Many Bothans died to bring us this information,'" it reiterates.

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"It's from Star Wars," four or five beings shout in unison.

"Just pick the goddamned card," something mutters.

The thing picks it, the card—and so the team that I hired and trained and armed and funded hulls one of my own space docks in my own sacred territory, sneezing people and atmosphere into the void...

Not that I care. In two turns they would crown me Empress, and weep openly in my presence, begging for the honor of putting their neck under the boot at the end of my snake-lady tail. And though I wore mainly tin-foil bikini tops, anything caught looking at my crazy-cleavage would have its 'eyes' put out using some kind of very complicated, futuristic method that would leave both Torquemada and Asimov aghast, for it was on this day that I realized that the crazy snake-ladies possess not voluptuous sci-fi boobs, but massive and angry sweater-testicles.
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Jonathan N. "Spartan Spawn, Sworn, Raised for Warring!"
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Summerville
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Seems like boobs are on many peoples minds LOL, I just wrote a Dust review around them haha. Great stuff Chris! Great stuff!
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Necessary Evil
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Glen Arm
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Awesome!

And when exactly are Boobs not on your minds..... or is that just me. Gotta go, boobs just walked by.


-M
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Jason Zer0
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Sounds like an awesome session. Congratulations on your under-handed devil glorified win.

Wish I could have made it.

Happy B-Day Tannhauser,

-Da Count
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Jeff Wiles
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HiveGod wrote:
soul-boggling


HiveGod wrote:
I'm about to stroll out the door sportin' an eight-billion GalactiCred pimp hat.


I very nearly didn't see this session report. I need to be able to subscribe to a user so as to be sure to see every scintillating phrase that issues forth from HiveGod's keyboard.


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Rusty McFisticuffs
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jeffwiles wrote:
I need to be able to subscribe to a user so as to be sure to see every scintillating phrase that issues forth from HiveGod's keyboard.

If you add him as a GeekBuddy, then My Geek -> GeekBuddies -> Recent Posts should show show you everything he's done recently. Just make sure you don't let him catch you staring at his sweater testicles.

(Another approach is to live in a van across the street from his house, and use high-powered binoculars to see what he's writing. That's what I do. In fact... if you don't mind hot-swapping a sleeping bag, I could use someone to cover the 6AM to noon shift.)
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Richard Maurer
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Humorous post to a very good game! One more reason I enjoy wasting endless amounts of time exploring BGG.com.
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Chris Tannhauser
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Thanks for the kind words, everyone! Glad you enjoyed the tale as much as I enjoyed smothering six of my friends in their own ineptitude! (Though to be honest, it was merely a matter of 'too little, too late.' By the time they started listening to my left-most neighbor (Dave) there wasn't much anyone could do to stop me. That and making sure Dave got dog-piled three ways to Christmas. Which he did. Most spectacularly.)

kuhrusty wrote:
...live in a van across the street from his house...

Like the one I just duct-taped a flash-bang grenade to? Wake up and smell the startled trousers, sleepyhead!
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Rusty McFisticuffs
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I WAS ALREADY AWAKE

(seriously. I haven't slept since that last post.)

Waaait a minute... I was prepared to take your story at face value, until I considered the implications of this one minor detail:

Count_Zr0 wrote:
Happy B-Day

This game wasn't part of your well-known and widely envied birthday party, was it??

If so, that casts grave doubts on the validity of the outcome. Of course your friends would never throw a game, but they're clearly the sort of thoughtful, caring people who might imperceptibly pull their punches, so to speak, for a friend who was in a fragile emotional state regarding his advancing age. "Based on how the weekend is going, he must be wondering--as we all are--whether he's still 'got it,'" I can imagine them thinking. "Well, six trade goods for his feeble & transparent bluff, that ought to perk him up."
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Rusty McFisticuffs
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oh good christ, was that my pelvis?
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Chris Tannhauser
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kuhrusty wrote:
Waaait a minute... I was prepared to take your story at face value, until I considered the implications of this one minor detail:

Count_Zr0 wrote:
Happy B-Day

This game wasn't part of your well-known and widely envied birthday party, was it??

If so, that casts grave doubts on the validity of the outcome. Of course your friends would never throw a game, but they're clearly the sort of thoughtful, caring people who might imperceptibly pull their punches, so to speak, for a friend who was in a fragile emotional state regarding his advancing age. "Based on how the weekend is going, he must be wondering--as we all are--whether he's still 'got it,'" I can imagine them thinking. "Well, six trade goods for his feeble & transparent bluff, that ought to perk him up."

That thought had crossed my mind... winning a seven-player game of TI3 is no mean feat, especially with the cunning 'Space Hitlers' I game with. However, the one year I did rely on the "it's my birthday so there's no way Dave will cut in through my exposed flank as I overextend for the win" in A Game of Thrones essentially handed the victory to Dave. A fact many people pointed out repeatedly as we played TI3, much to Dave's chagrin. As we are fond of saying around here, "There is only One Game." All other games are merely facets of The One.

You, sir, in casting aspersions on my hard-won victory, have forced me to defend myself. I accept the challenge. Have at thee:

I made sure I gained at least 1 VP every turn.
We play with the Age of Empire variant, where all the VP cards are set out in a row to allow for long-range planning. Every turn I picked one to focus on. The 'Closed-Door Session of the Committee on Outrageous Extortion' was purely to get the four trade goods I needed to spend 20 at the end of the turn for 2 VP.

I engaged in 'VP swapping' with my right hand neighbor.
I needed to hold Mecatol Rex for a turn, he needed to take a planet with a ground battle. The deal was that he would allow my fleet passage up to Mecatol, after which I would fall back, leaving one ground force behind 'to make it look good.' I got my VP, next turn he swept in and got his. Everybody but Dave is happy.

This was the only battle I was directly involved in for the whole game.

I picked Diplomacy at exactly the right time.
Dave had a fleet massed at our mutual border complete with a War Sun, dreadnoughts, etc., all fit to stomp the guts out of my upstart empire. He was downstream from me in the seating, so I got to pick my strategy card first. Of course, it was Diplomacy. To make matters worse, the Naalu always go on 0 in the turn order, so I got to pop it off before anyone could do anything else.

I took advantage of the natural enmity between my two neighbors.
My right-most neighbor, with whom I now had an 'understanding' (due to VP swapping) was spoiling to take on Dave. I was more than happy to facilitate this. During the pitched space battle between their two fleets (the one Dave had sent to kill me off), Torin scored a Direct Hit on Dave's War Sun, which Dave insta-repaired with an Action Card that I then canceled with one of my own. So they found that exhaust port after all...

And, probably the most important factor in my win:

Near the end, Dave's right hand neighbor said, "I'm bored. I'm attacking Dave."
He then proceeded to tie up and maul Dave's forces right when Dave wanted to be hammering me. Thanks, Luke! Couldn't have done it without you!

So, as you can clearly see, my victory was due entirely to careful planning, deft execution, unctuous shmoozing, and capricious boredom.
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Chris Tannhauser
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kuhrusty wrote:
oh good christ, was that my pelvis?

Walk it off, Nancy!
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Necessary Evil
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Less Tactics.... More boobs.


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Russ Fade
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When people ask "what reason is there to still come to BGG", any thread by Hivegod is a good thing to show 'em.

Oh, and the boobs. I'm here for teh boobs.
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Chris Tannhauser
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malloc wrote:

Less Tactics.... More boobs.



I must be broken. All I can think of is "War Suns!" Maybe it's all the plastic...
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Torin Hill
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Just saw this post, sorry for the late response...

Day 2 of Hivegod's Envious Birthday extravaganza involved me stomping the everloving sauerkraut out of his OccultHun ass in Tannhäuser the previous day. God Bless the US of laser-rAy!

Just wanted to point out that I wasn't going soft on Him, he was going soft on Us. But I guess at his age... after 4 hours, call a doctor, right?
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Chris Coffee
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Hoover
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I've read some pretty hilarious/geekily enticing session reports on this site, but this has to be one of the best. Nice work! (The boobs helped )
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J L
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So what was the card?
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Chris Tannhauser
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The actual name escapes me, but it was the one that lets you destroy a spacedock in a non-Homeworld system.
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Chris Tannhauser
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This session has won the coveted Wolfie!


Huzzah!
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Chris Tannhauser
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...AND WINNER OF BEST SESSION REPORT OF 2008-2009!!!

modest
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Dick Leban
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Udder madness.
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Kent Reuber
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Thanks for keeping us abreast of your gaming.
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Ian Clark
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Two War Suns, moving in unison, their spherical exteriors glistening in the light of a nearby nebula at the twilight. Now and then, jostled ever so gently by solar winds and supernova shockwaves, they make their presence known as the bringer of tidings. Lest you get distracted by their subtle features, you may forget that these are actually weapons, designed by nature to dissolve mankind, whittle away their resistances, and enforce whatever will their owners demand.

And they always come in pairs.
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Seren of Moon
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Highlands Ranch
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Best after-action report ever!

Sounds like the witty HiveGod has a command of the game as well. It is The One Game, first written about by Herman Hesse in The Magister Ludi and dubbed the glass bead game because they didn't yet have cool plastic spaceships.
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