Every Man Needs A Shed

Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Dad, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer, Agricola fanboy and jealous admirer of Carl Chudyk. www.surprisedstaregames.co.uk

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Namedropper

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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I’d seen Angela about my accounts and briefed Alan on the current status of Ivor the Engine on my way to Julian and Pip’s to pick up Peter’s weekend bag (Pat was there helping with some Ikea wardrobes). Karen chatted to Lee about carpets and I was supposed to Skype Carl but he was off to Dublin with Iain. After picking Arthur up from Primary school and then sending some emails to Caren and Lindsay (and reading a few from Ian), the children – Daisy, Fred, Benedict and Peter - came back from the bus stop. I had already spoken to Alice about some bits and pieces of work I’d need her to do which reminded Karen than she needed to ring James and find out about Benedict’s birthday treat. Rounding off the working day with a couple of requirements-focused communiqués with Richard (via Lindsay, copied to Tony) and a holding-pattern response for Lesley to pass on to Holly, I gathered the supper order from Karen, Daisy, Fred, Peter, Benedict and Arthur and popped in to town. Someone followed us (me, Benedict and Peter) all the way into Ross-on-Wye with super-bright halogen bulbs a-blazing in my mirrors and we nearly came a cropper on the M50 but, phew, we made it to the White Lion in good time just as Ben, Becky, John, Gordon and Anne were mulling over something to play. I ordered some drinks from Ian, because Dave was busy, and nodded to Nigel – whom I see occasionally and know from long-ago (Sixth Form) when he had a record shop that Mike, Mike and myself were always hanging around in. Karen worked there too for a little while. Having brought the young ‘uns with, it was obvious that some of the ‘grown ups’ wanted to play a serious game so they set up quickly while the kiddiwinks were still noodling around the room attacking the scratchings I’d bought from Ian (Dave was still too busy), leaving Becky and myself to set up a 4-player Ivor the Engine with Peter and Benedict. The boys were messing about a lot – as you’d reasonably expect – so the game took a little longer than usual (45 mins instead of 30) with Peter – in his first game – saving up some timely Llanmad jobs to score a ridiculously good 45 points to my 35, Becky’s 27 and Benedict’s 19.
(Prototype)

As Fate would have it, the two tables completed coincidentally and Anne (with an early night in mind) joined Ben and the boys for Too Many Cooks while Gordon, Becky, John and myself broke out Endeavor – a long time passed favourite of the Wycombe contingent (Richard, Carl, Iain, Jimmy, Steve and Steve); struggling a bit to remind myself of the rules, we eventually kicked off and the whole thing flowed beautifully. I’d forgotten what a treat of a pseudo worker placement game it is…

The board is split into regions: a central (already ‘open’) region (Europe) and five ‘other’ regions that need to be ‘discovered’ and then exploited; the board is covered with buildings and other spaces, all connected, which have chits on them – chits are good and need to be collected! Players have a personal board with four tracks and a space for cards; the tracks are for building (the further you are along, the better the type of building you are able to construct), population (the further you are along, the more people you get at the start of a round to use in actions), money (used to get your existing people back from actions to be used again/free up the action to be done again) and politics (the further you are along, the more cards you can keep between rounds). A round is comprised of processing three of the four tracks (everyone takes a building which gives either a track advance bonus or an action space that can be used, everyone collects new population, everyone uses their money allowance to clear action spaces), followed by a round-the-table-one-at-a-time allocation of population to actions; these hallowed actions are:

a) Ship – put a person on your shipping action space to put another person on a shipping track against one of the five ‘closed’ regions – the track has a fixed number of spaces, each with a chit placed randomly on it at the start of the game which you take when you ship there. The chit symbol shows you which track to advance on by one space.

b) Colonize – put a person on your colonize action space to put another person on to a building in any open region (and take the chit seeded there at the start); if you control both ends of a link between spaces, you take the chit seeded on the link too.

c) Attack (Cannon) – put a person on your cannon action space to put another person on an already-occupied (non-track) space, returning the previous occupant to general supply.

d) Crate – take a card from an open region. Cards are (generally) seeded 1 – 5 and have to be taken in ascending numeric order (useful for blocking later in the game); you can take a card of value up to the number of pieces you have in a region eg. if you have 4 people combined on the shipping track and buildings for ‘Africa’ then the cards 1 – 4 are theoretically available to you. Cards have icons that push you along the tracks. You are limited to holding a number of cards specified by your position on the Politics track.

There are some other bits and pieces – slavery cards are like normal cards but can be bad later in the game if certain things happen, the person who owns the most spaces on a shipping track when it is full (opened) gains a Governer card (more icons), other scoring subtleties etc but, in general, that’s it. You play 7 rounds and the person with the most veeps (tracks, cards, board occupation) is the winner – tonight that was me (59), Gordon (57), John (54) and Becky (45).


Anne had already gone leaving Ben, Peter and Benedict to Cube Quest for the duration. Time to get home, then, departing in a cloud of cheery farewells; Karen was still up, as was Daisy, with Fred and Arthur a-snooze.
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Sat Sep 28, 2013 9:18 am
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FLGS4 (Guess)

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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(we are in a friendly, local gaming store; the usual accoutrements adorn the premises: shelves of boardgames, TCGs in displays close to the checkout, figures of fantasy beasts in the window etc. The cashier is perched on a stool reading a back-issue of the old Counter Magazine)

Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A customer wanders in. Despite the gunfire, smoke and general atmosphere of battle raging outside he is spotless and immaculately-dressed)

Customer: Good morning.

Cashier: (looking up) Good morning. Can I help you?

Customer: Yes, I want to buy a copy of...

Cashier: (interrupts) Wait! Hold that thought!

Customer: Well, I just need...

Cashier: Stop! (there is a short silence) Let me guess...

Customer: Um...

Cashier: Is it a TCG?

Customer: No, it’s...

Cashier: (interrupts) A board game?

Customer: Yes, but...

Cashier: A Euro game?

Customer: Sort of, it’s by...

Cashier: (interrupts)No! Don’t give it away! (conspiratorially)It’ll be our little secret!

Customer: I’m not sure that...

Cashier: (pulling something from under the desk and holding it up – it is a copy of Carcassonne)This?

Customer: No.

Cashier: (pulling a copy of Tzol’kin)This?

Customer: Not really.

Cashier: Gimme another clue then (rubs hands together) Is it a resource management game - oh! or a game with resources in it?

Customer: Yes, though it might be easier if I just told...

Cashier: (barking) Worker placement?

Customer: Yes...

Cashier: Snowdonia? Lords of Waterdeep? It’s Bastard Lords of Sodding Waterdeep, isn’t it?

Customer: Why, yes it is...

Cashier: (pulling air)Yesssss! I f*ckin’ knew it!

Customer: Could I please have...

Cashier: (doing a little moonwalk back-and-forth behind the counter, affecting a sing-song voice)I’m so good at guessing...I’m so good at guessing...

Customer: (somewhat peeved) Look! Are you going to get me a copy of Lords of Waterdeep or not?

Cashier: (suddenly still; leans casually on the glass top)Out of stock, mate. Come back Tuesday.

Customer: ...

Cashier: Tuesday. Come back Tuesday.

Customer: Thanks, then. Er, Tuesday, you say?

Cashier: Tuesday.

(The customer departs. The cashier stares after them for a short while then returns to his magazine)

Cashier: (to himself) We’re f*ckin’ closed Tuesdays.
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Fri Sep 27, 2013 2:44 pm
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FLGS3 (Bribe)

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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(with thanks to Chris Morris)

(we are in a friendly, local gaming store; the usual accoutrements adorn the premises: shelves of boardgames, TCGs in displays close to the checkout, figures of fantasy beasts in the window etc. The cashier is perched on a stool reading a back-issue of the new Counter Magazine)


Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A customer wanders in. Despite the bright sunburst of a heatwave visible through the window, he is dressed in a trench coat, woolly scarf and bobble hat)

Customer: Good morning.

Cashier: (looking up) Can I help you?

Customer: Yes, I would like three Theros boosters please.

Cashier: I’ll tell you what...here’s £30 quid if you f*ck off and I never see you in here again?

Customer: Um...

Cashier: (proffering the notes) Thirty quid...

Customer: (takes it)Er, thanks.

Cashier: (waving cheerily)Bye then.

Customer: (hesitating)...

Cashier: Off-en zee sod...

(The customer departs. The cashier stares after them for a short while then returns to his magazine)

Cashier: Ah, the sweet sound of commerce.
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Fri Sep 27, 2013 2:01 pm
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FLGS2 (Porn)

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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(with thanks to Chris Morris)

(we are in a friendly, local gaming store; the usual accoutrements adorn the premises: shelves of boardgames, TCGs in displays close to the checkout, figures of fantasy beasts in the window etc. The cashier is perched on a stool reading a back-issue of Spielbox)


Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A customer wanders in. Despite the blizzard of snow visible through the window, he is dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt)

Customer: Good morning.

Cashier: (looking up) Can I help you?

Customer: Yes, I rather hope so...I'm looking for a copy of Robinson Crusoe: Adventure on...(interrupted by the telephone ringing)

Cashier: Excuse me, I need to take this...(picking up) Hello? (pauses)...yes, I'm holding it in my hand right now; it's swollen and pulsating...I am rhythmically stimulating it to a messy climax. (pauses) Yes. Thank you. Goodbye. (puts phone down)

Customer: What on...

Cashier: I'm so sorry...now, what was it you were looking for?

Customer: Um...yes...well, I read about this Robinson Crusoe game on the web and wondered if you might have a copy in sto...(interrupted by the telephone ringing again)

Cashier: Do please wait just one tick...(picking up) Hello? (pauses)...I am crouching on all fours in front of you. I am very much enjoying the rigorous flagellation that you are inflicting upon me. Yes. I have been a very naughty boy and I am about to ejaculate copiously on to the parquet flooring. Thank you. Goodbye. (puts phone down)

Customer: Well, I...

Cashier: I do apologise, Sir; I'm afraid running game store doesn't quite bring in enough cash so I've taken on a number of sex chat lines to supplement my income.

(the phone rings once more)

Cashier: Hello? Indeed. Do it to me. Do it to me hard and fast. I am trembling with pleasure. Spend your massive issue over my ample breasts youknowyouwantto. Thankyou. Good day. (puts phone down)

Cashier: Robinson Crusoe, was it?

Customer: Er...that's right.

(cashier goes and fetches a copy and puts it in to a carrier bag)

Cashier: That'll be £40.00 please, Sir...is there anything else I can help you with today?

Customer: (nervously) You wouldn't have a copy of Scandaroon would you by any chance?

Cashier: (suddenly angry) You f*cking pervert! Get the Hell out of my shop!

(The customer has departed. The cashier stares after them for a short while then returns to his magazine)

Cashier: I knew it.

Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A new customer has arrived)

Customer: Good morning. I wonder if you might stock dildos?

Cashier: Would that be the 12, 16 or 24 inch model, Sir?
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Fri Sep 27, 2013 12:50 pm
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FLGS (Hate)

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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(with thanks to Chris Morris)

(we are in a friendly, local gaming store; the usual accoutrements adorn the premises: shelves of boardgames, TCGs in displays close to the checkout, figures of fantasy beasts in the window etc. The cashier is perched on a stool reading a back-issue of Spielbox)


Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A customer wanders in. Despite the torrential rain visible through the window, he is bone dry)

Customer: Good morning.

Cashier: (looking up) Can I help you?

Customer: Yes please - I'm looking for a copy of Terra Mystica...

Cashier: You don't like me, do you?

Customer: I'm sorry?

Cashier: You don't like me, do you?

Customer: I'm not sure that I under...

Cashier: You only come in here when you want something.

Customer: Well, that's because...

Cashier: I never see you otherwise.

Customer: No...

Cashier: Why do you hate me so much?

Customer: I don't hate you, it's just that...

Cashier: Oh that's right - make up some excuses.

Customer: I don't think this is relevant - I'm simply looking for a copy of Terra Myst...

Cashier: You want me to help you now, do you? Eh? Treat me with contempt the rest of the time but when YOU want something I've got to drop everything?

Customer: Er...I don't mean to...

Cashier: Oh you (air quotes) don't mean to...

Customer: No, I...

Cashier: Liar.

Customer: That's hardly fair, I...

Cashier: (pointing to the door) Get out! Get the hell out, you parasite!

Customer: But, I...

Cashier: Go on! Get the f*ck out of my shop!

Customer: (scurrying out) I do quite like you though...

Cashier: Too late now - go on, get lost!

(The customer has departed. The cashier stares after them for a short while then returns to his magazine)

Cashier: I knew it.

Bell: *ding-a-ling*

(A new customer has arrived)

Customer: Good morning. I wonder if you have the latest expansion for Galaxy Truckers?

Cashier: Who...the f*ck...are YOU?
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Fri Sep 27, 2013 8:16 am
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Dirty Bombs in Yurassol

Anthony Boydell
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Newent. Glos
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Generals Ulysses S Plant, Ledburee and Pattony, Benghis Khaaaaaaan! and an unknown interloper glowered at each other across the enormous table. Plant was smoking a stogie so large it needed a supporting tripod; Ledburee was skinning a crisped piglet and chewing the seared epidermis threateningly; Pattony was taking selfies with a boxed brownie* and Khaaaaaaaaaaan! narrated the proceedings to a twitching scribe impaled on a traveling spike.

The bunker, in which the room in which the leaders were entrenched, was buried deep below the ground at an undisclosed location – the pilots who had been responsible for getting them there were to be ‘reallocated’ when the conference was over and the vicious, warmongering despots returned to their countries of origin. War had been raging for several months already with jaw-slackening casualties on all sides; the foundation of the Mecha city of Timbuctony (see http://www.boardgamegeek.com/blogpost/20347/gentlemen-you-ca...), after the initial triumphs of General Pattony, prompting this particular initiative towards peace.

The thick double-doors, the only entrance to the room, swished open and a flock of aides scurried across the shag to their respective leaders, simultaneously whispering into their ears. Ulysses S Plant coughed up a small call for order and spoke: “It seems that the Emperor Neighbourleon has unfortunately been detained by a shortage of horses…a shortage of horses that wouldn’t tear him into quarters when attached, each to a limb, and shot in buttocks to enforce an omnidirectional stampede”

“What?” barked Benghis.

“He’s dead,” replied Plant, sucking heavily on his cigar.

“Good!” spat the Mongol, “That’s just increased our chances of winning by 5%”.

“Not so fast!” interjected the stranger, “The Emperor may be gone – albeit in a bizarre set of circumstances that are entirely random and not orchestrated at all by myself or anyone else – but I stand in his place to represent our glorious, if ungrateful, people!” (The stranger had risen to his feet during this brief speech and was being accompanied by a small string ensemble).

Pattony brushed the ample locks of his flopping fringe away from the sultry, hypnotic wells of his deep, brown eyes and asked: “And who are you, exactly?”

The stranger stiffened, adjusted his gusset to compensate, and spread his arms wide in Messianic supplication: “I am...Gaius...Julius...Zander! Father to a mergered wife, husband to a merde-d son. And I will have the vegetarian option – in this life or the next.”

Ledburee giggled through a mouthful of masticated pork: “Someone got the wrong end of Google Translate!”

“Enough!” bellowed Grant, picking up the tobacco product by the thick end and twatting his aide in the face with it. “This is no time for words! Let us settle this like proper arseholes: on the battlefield! With other people’s lives and blood!”

He stormed from the room to a chorus of “oooooooh”s, “mardy!” and “someone’s on their period” etc.

This particular session of the global conflict was immediately initiated; Plant establishing his base in the humid climate of Yurassol, Zander settling himself ‘down under’, Pattony orienting his forces in the Orient, Khaaaaaaaaan! blessing the rains down in Africa and Ledburee kicking around Europe like a student on his gap year. Quickly, alliances were forged leaving the unfortunate Ledburee isolated and penetrated from all sides – it was but a matter of 75 minutes before he had been annihilated by Benghis who, in turn, capitulated - by dint of crappy dice roll – to the rabid Ulysses!

Plant punched the air, and then everyone around the table in turn, in celebration of his victory before founding a city with a completely forgettable name**. Genghis licked his wounds (and, disconcertingly, those of his warriors, even the ones who weren’t injured) with the foundation of ‘Memisses’ in eastern Africa – once again failing to understand the outbreak of hysterical laughter at the chosen nomenclature; apparently, Memisses – in Knaaaaanian! – means ‘a well-traveled jungle path in sight of two majestic mountains’. Apparently. The death of General Robert D. Ledburee left a gaping hole which, given the proclivities of the combatants, begged to be filled tootie-sweetie - behold! From the ashes of the Market Town rises a new and more frightening despotic phoenix with a mobile home base comeback power: Colonel Gadaffin!

Proud to serve:


General Plant was given only the briefest of moments to rest on his laurels before battle resumed; this time he opted for an Antipodean haven (despite having just reduced it’s ownership bonus by 1 unit – WTF?), adjacent to Benghis – with whom he struck up an immediate alliance (the pussies); Gaius Julius Zander (uncle to a morbid bun etc etc) plumped for the chilly delights of Greenland (?); Colonel Gadaffin set up shop in South America, while Pattony middle-fingered the opposition from the Middle East, simultaneously sticking a huge ‘KICK ME!’ post-it on his own back. As you would, therefore, expect Plant and Pattony and Khaaaaaaaaan! spent the whole time bouncing off each other, leaving Gadaffin and Zander to carve their way to a neck-and-neck finish – Gadaffin had to leave before the final resolution but ended up winning anyway, just a Dipterid’s testes ahead of the big Roman. Benghis’ own failed ‘Death or Glory’ rampage failed to get passed dice roll number 1 (so…death it is, then?).

In the ash-ridden, pain-grimaced aftermath of the evening there was little enthusiasm to dole out reparations; these are to be left until the next time…war may indeed be Hell, but it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

*a type of camera operated by a Baden-Powellesque do-gooder in a crate
**I forgot it
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Thu Sep 26, 2013 8:12 pm
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???

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Mon Sep 23, 2013 11:19 pm
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a pair of kings

Anthony Boydell
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Ah, the damp silence of a Sunday morning; the kiddiwinks a-snooze, still, and even the house itself has creaked and ticking-hot-water-piped itself into a drowse – quiet, at least, until the humans surface. A perfect opportunity to send the missus downstairs to make a brew and catch up with…oh, here it is: Yorkshire Tea in a ‘Keep Calm and Drink Tea’ mug (funny!), but no biscuits? Really? *sigh*

..the blog.

Friday was relatively sane and uncontroversial – as opposed to the litany of niggles, gripes, obstacles and irritations that patch-worked the lilo that was Thursday – so having ‘chipped’ for sustenance at Supper, Benedict and I internal combustion engine the eight or so miles to Ross-on-Wye for the ‘Friday meet’. All the usual faces were there: Ben, Becky, John (sporting a rather fetching cheery demeanor) and Dave (from Ledbury). It turns out Dave (Ledbury-sourced) is giving John (smiling unnervingly often) a lift, allowing the latter to upgrade his usual Stowfords LA (0.5%) to the ‘Full Intoxicant’ version – hence the grinning, I suppose. We are also to be joined by what I thought Ben referred to as ‘Bill and Sam’ which, due to the Bateson household cutbacks in vocal punctuation, turned out to actually mean ‘Bill, Anne, Sam’ - the itinerant ‘Captain Bill’ (sometime supporter of an enormous Wing Commander moustache), the fragrant Anne (similar) and Sam (mostly silent student type who’s quite good at games).

With drinks collected and an unnerving pile of pork scratching packets littering the ante-room, we split into teams for the ensuing fun: Anne, Bill, Becky and Benedict adjacent the fish tank for Catan and the rest of us (John, Ben, me, Sam and Dave) ‘cod-pieced up’ for some Lancaster action. I won’t relate the tale of the Catanians because a) I wasn’t paying any attention and b) I’m afraid a can’t stand Settlers of Catan.

Lancaster, for the uninitiated, is a worker placement game at it’s heart with shades of Keyflower and Al Rashid in the allocation, reinforcement and ‘bouncing’ of one’s Knights (workers). Players start with a couple of Knights – a ‘1’ and a ‘2’ – which you can place either
a) on a City on the main board (a map of England);
b) on a section denoting ‘War With France’; or,
c) on your own castle to earn some stuff

For option A, your Knight’s strength must equal or exceed a minimum value on a City and can be supported by ‘Squires’ (a resource one can gain during play) – this is your ‘bid’ for the space and other players can nip in and take the action away from you by allocating a larger ‘bid’ (if they do, your Knight comes home alone – the Squires run away - to, perhaps, try another allocation later in the round). At the round’s resolution, you will gain the action and/or an associated noble-person (you pay money to do BOTH, or chose one option for free).

For option B, you simply place a Knight on one of two tracks (there are always a couple of spats going on with our cross-channel friends) and take one of (initially) six mini-bonus tiles. At the round’s resolution, you will gain VPs and – if you win – get your pieces back (otherwise they hang around for another ‘go’).

For option C, you can put your Knight to work at some menial Castle-based task and get some stuff at the round’s resolution.

After allocation, there is voting on ‘Laws’ – these can get players with the right combination of resources, Knights etc some extra points (or resources). There is an initial pool that are replaced by during play – YES Laws move up, refreshing the line, and NO Laws are removed from the game. The stack of Laws is the counter for gametime (five rounds in total).

After voting, we enact the Laws (getting their bonuses) and then we resolve the actions on the maps / the fights with our Gallic cousins. Rinse, repeat and then do some final scoring: remember those noblemen I mentioned? They’re like the personalities in St Petersburg that score on a pyramid scale SO DON’T YOU GO FORGETTING ABOUT THEM!

Despite the usual eye-burning loudness of the Queen Games presentation, the fountain of components and the fiddliness of the initial setup, Lancaster is a cracking barrel of Kingmaker-lite fun: the auction for action spaces and the toing-and-froing of the French conflicts adding that much needed ‘take that!’ player interaction. I found myself cultivating a small pool of Knights into high values so they were difficult to beat out of action spaces, while Ben went for LOTS of low-rent ‘Sirs’ (biggest army), Sam for a nearly-finished Castle and so many Squires you’d think he was running an illegal immigration scam, Dave doing a little bit of everything and quite a lot of ‘having at’ Les Francais; and John smilingly-stuttering (uncharacteristically) behind the pack but having a good time doing so. I like this one.

Conveniently, both tables reached their climaxes simultaneously so we were able to do a switcheroo: John, Dave, Benedict and I took a fistful of fillers to the fishtank corner while the others Puerto Rico-ed. After abortively starting both Fairy Tale (didn’t have ALL of the translated rules) and Steam Noir: Revolution (too much to learn and it was getting late), we settled on the delightful Fleet. Dave struggled with this RFTG/San Juan-esque card allocator – never seeming to have any money to do anything – while I, conversely, found my processing ship and trio of Cod licenses let me draw a veritable North Sea’s worth of cards (all my fish, early, I processed into extra cards too) – I bought a lucrative King Crab license and a couple of Fisherman’s Pubs to boot for a stonking 77 point win (20 points more than John on a very creditable first-play total of 57) with Benedict in third and poor, Sou’Wester-on-backwards Dave phutting into harbor with a barely enough to make sardines-on-toast.

So, as it turned out, a fine ‘pair of Kings’ for the evening and we even made it home at a reasonable hour!
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Sun Sep 22, 2013 9:11 am
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Pre-ordering Snowdonia: The Daffodil Line

Anthony Boydell
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The Daffodil Line is limited run (750 copies) 18 card mini-scenario for Snowdonia based on a railway close to Tony Boydell’s current home town of Newent in Gloucestershire. It mixes up the conventions of the game by adding daffodil collection (!), stone breaking, and canal filling.

Snowdonia: The Daffodil Line is entirely separate from the 2nd Edition Snowdonia Kickstarter bundles and will be available from the Surprised Stare Games Ltd's stand at Essen Spiel 2013 or through the post.

It is priced at 5 (five) Euros per copy (+ postage, where needed) and is compatible with the 1st or 2nd Edition of Snowdonia. Some of the profits from the scenario will be donated to the Herefordshire and Gloucestershire Canal Trust (www.h-g-canal.org.uk).

PRE-ORDERS
We are taking Daffodil Line pre-orders, for a limited time, for either:
a) pick up at Essen Spiel 2013 - Hall 3, Q105; or
b) posting to you after we get back from Essen; please note that there will be an additional mail charge of €2 for UK/Europe and €3 for US/Rest of World).

Some copies should also be available at the BoardGameGeek Geek Store, and our own website, from 1 November 2013 - subject to availability, of course.

To pre-order The Daffodil Line, please send an email with your full name and email/postal address before 23:59:59GMT on Friday 18th October, 2013 to:

daffy@surprisedstaregames.co.uk

and add the appropriate keyword (ESSEN or POSTAL) to your subject line - we will instruct POSTAL customers how to pay in a reply (the rest of you bring cash!).

Quick Summary:
Email address = daffy@surprisedstaregames.co.uk
Essen pickup = €5 and use the keyword ESSEN
Posting = €7 (Uk & Europe) or €8 (US and Rest-of-World) and use the keyword POSTAL
Some profits will be donated.
Closing Date = 23:59:59GMT on Friday 18th October, 2013
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8 Comments
Sat Sep 21, 2013 10:08 am
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Nobody likes a smart-arse

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
Unspecified
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Boydell: (knocks on door) Knocketty-knock knock

Headmaster: En...tah!

(Boydell shuffles nervously into the Study; he is staring intently at his shoes. He approaches the large, leather-surfaced desk)

Headmaster: (looking up from a sheaf of documents, sternly) Ah, Boydell?

Boydell: (meekly) Yes, Sir

Headmaster: (removes glasses in sweeping gesture revealing a smaller pair of glasses underneath) Speak up, lad, I'm not an Owl, lad - do I look like an owl to you?

Boydell: (slightly louder) Yes, Sir...no, Sir

Headmaster: (puts glasses back on, he now looks like an owl) Yes to the owl resemblance, lad? Or yes to speaking louder?

Boydell: ...to the speaking louder, Sir. Definitely not to the looking like an owl but, Sir...though, with those glasses...

Headmaster: (mouth open, his lips don't move as the sound comes out) Ess?

Boydell: (pulling at his sleeve) Er...

Headmaster: (opens a desk drawer and retrieves a headset with night-goggles attached; he places these on his head and pulls them into position) Why are you HERE, Boydell?

Boydell: (very quietly) Yesterday I was being far too clever with the references in my blog and hardly anyone gave me any thumbs for it, Sir.

Headmaster: (face assumes slightly taken aback demeanor) Obscure references on your blog, Boydell?

Boydell: Yes, Sir - quite unacceptably opaque, abstruse and niche, Sir.

Headmaster: I see...and WHY were you being so perplexing? (looks down at the top piece of paper – it has a sheet of breaded ham stapled to one corner)

Boydell: Don't know, Sir

Headmaster: (looks up instantly) You don't KNOW, Boydell?

Boydell: No, Sir

Headmaster: Could it be you were trying a little too hard to impress your peers, Boydell? Hmmmmm?

Boydell: Don't know, Sir

Headmaster: Don't know, Sir? Don't know, Sir? There it is again, Boydell - do you know ANYTHING, Boydell?

Boydell: Yes, Sir. I know about geography, Sir…and polyps…

Headmaster: I should hope so, Boydell - otherwise your Parents are wasting an awful lot of money sending you to this School, aren't they?

Boydell: Yes, Sir - I mean: No, Sir...

Headmaster: No, Sir indeed, Boydell...

(there is an pregnant pause)

Headmaster: (pacing back and forth behind his desk though he is still seated) So, what sort of things were you saying on your blog then, my boy?

Boydell: I was obliquely referencing some satirical and disturbing sketches from a 90s comedy sketch show…

Headmaster: I…see…

Boydell: …it’s surreal and a bit scary, Sir, with a trippy, pseudo-hypnotic soundtrack…

Headmaster: And what do you intend to do about it, Boydell?

Boydell: To smarten up my act, Sir.

Headmaster: (picks up a large whores-whip – like a horsewhip, but for prostitutes) Excellent. That would be the very best thing, Boydell - for all concerned. Now, stay here and write 100 lines: "Experience is a hard school but fools will learn no other" (takes a swipe at the air; there is a satisfying swoosh sound)

(Boydell spends 30 minutes writing out the lines. He hands them into the Headmaster who has been belting the air in his office for the duration.)

Boydell: May I go now, Sir?

Headmaster: What is your next lesson, lad?

Boydell: English Literature, Sir. I have to write up my thoughts about a new project I’m designing.

Headmaster: I see...and HOW will you be describing this?

Boydell: Using a series of Nostradamian Quatraines as the underlying structure of a semi-Latinesque homage…with cock jokes.

Headmaster: (agape) Same time tomorrow then, Boydell?

Boydell: (resigned to his fate) Yes, Sir - same time tomorrow, Sir.
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4 Comments
Fri Sep 20, 2013 11:30 am
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