by nāt
February, month of a million bitter nights. This odd duck clocks in at a mere 28 days and yet feels like 3 years' worth of frigid misery! Some of the greatest minds in history have examined this supratemporal anomaly, and yet humanity has come no closer in slaying its persistent and wintery ennui. Kierkegaard famously coined the term "the February Poops." Einstein called it "The Slump Days of SomethingorotherwhateverIdon'tevencareanymore." Even Emily Dickinson once penned the poem:I'd leave my house —
If only February didn't dawdle —
Alack, alas, — it does –
There go my plans — for date night —
Ok, so maybe we can't kill awful February outright, but we can sure attempt to curtail its negative effects! Let's break out our SAD lamps and discuss all manner of board games played!
Troyes
The Ladies of Troyes
First played in 2015: 02/05
Played before? Yes
Oh boy! More Troyes! This time with my current "white whale," the ever-elusive The Ladies of Troyes expansion. Some friends were kind enough to bring along their copy to a game night. I almost wish this expansion turned out to be terrible, because ignorance is-- was quite a bit more blissful before I knew that Ladies added a healthy amount of awesome to the base game.
In addition to more activity cards and a special unpurchasable purple die per player, four randomized "outdoors activity" tiles are added to each side of the base board, thematically outside of the city walls, allowing for players to take freshly-included guard meeples along the ramparts and over gates for every dice pip paid. Place a cube of your color on one or some of these areas and reap the benefits at a later point in time. Yes, that's right, just one cube per area, because, true to form, we went and dun' played the game wronglike. The fourth and most costly-to-reach outdoor activity tile promised 1 VP for every cube present on it at the end of the game. So presented it with cubes we did, and how! This afore we thought to look at the errata clarifying that we could only put one cube on an outdoor activity, no matter how many dice pips we had to kick around. Oops! Good thing I wear my wrongness with pride, like a sports bra or an ermine stole!
Still, the tile looked very pretty, what with the avalanche of multi-colored cubes heaped upon it.
And just in case you were unaware of how things work around here, I will now re-award that highly prestigious hallmark of board game excellence, the Highly Prestigious Vincent Price Seal of Approval. It's like the Presidential Fitness Award of board games!
:star::star::star::star::star:
Bohnanza
First played in 2015: 02/09
Played before? Yes
It's probably clear by now that I'm not a big fan of direct player confrontation. I don't care for game experiences that reward "take that" plays or outright offensive maneuvers. I feel bad when they happen to me, and I feel guilty when I have no choice but to do them to other players. I'm not against a little friendly competition, nor do I deny these types of games their rightful place in the pantheon of board gaming, but deliberately cutthroat playstyles frustrate the ever-loving hippie out of me.
This is why I'm always so pleased to play Bohnanza. Bohnanza is an exercise in competitive back-scratching, and for that, I love it. It is simple to learn, easy to teach, offers a healthy amount of depth, and positively revels in its own mutually-assured capitalism.
I have some beans. You have some beans. They are adorably illustrated. Looks like some of your beans would fit better in my fields, and it just so happens there are a few of mine that'd prefer yours. Let's make something happen, yeah? How about I give you a couple of my green beans for that lousy soy bean you really don't want to plant? What's that? You'd like to throw in an extra stink bean just for me? Pleasure doing business with you kind sir-or-madam. I'm glad we could come to an agreement. BAM! TWO COINS FOR THE BOTH OF US.
The special thing about Bohnanza is that no other game makes me feel quite as good about giving things away. Most games bring out the hoarder in me. The overly possessive helicopter parent to my many cubes of resources. This is mine. That is mine. Your mine is mine. Those will soon be mine, mine, mine. Bohnanza, on the other hand, flips this sentiment on its head. I don't want this bean. You want this bean. I will give you this bean. Here, also take this other bean. Look under your seats! You get a bean! You get a bean! EVERYBODY GETS A NEW BEAN!
Now is the point in my little soliloquy where you interrupt: "But that's not how you play properly!", you say, probably eating a three-bean salad for some reason. "If you were really playing to win you'd know when to hold back some beans! You'd know that it's the best tactic to starve other players out, to gain monopolies, to flood markets at precise times, to spite farm certain beans, and laugh in all their faces!" Perhaps, perhaps. But the beauty of Bohnanza is that a friendly strategy is just as viable as the dog-eat-dog one. It's a thing of beauty when you just so happen to have the exact bean someone else is looking for. It's a thing of beauty when that someone else is desperate to give away the very bean that will give you your fourth and final coin of profit. It's a thing of beauty when everyone throws card after card at you in a serendipitous attempt to cull their hands for future turns.
In a world of vicious, shameless, rapacious competition, sometimes it's good to sow a few beans of symbiosis.
Keyflower
Keyflower: The Farmers
Keyflower: The Merchants
First played in 2015: 02/10
Played before? Yes
Well, look who showed up to the party! It's only one of my favorite games of all time, Keyflower! And it's brought friends!
We've all met The Farmers. The Farmers is always good for a laugh. In fact, it'd be difficult to imagine a party without The Farmers present. He's jolly and rotund and has a lot to offer, like livestock and super-movement bushels of wheat, and a ton of wonderful new tiles.
But what of this slender, pensive-looking fellow in the corner? That'd be The Merchants, newest kid on the block. Strong, silent type. Only adds to the conversation when he's really got something to contribute. Mostly profound, he's a poet and a scholar, but doesn't come off as heavier-than-thou. Don't worry, you'll like him. You'll definitely like him.
Yes, that's right. I don't believe I'm spoiling anything by telling you that I thoroughly enjoyed The Merchants experience. It is a lean, beautifully-balanced, splendidly robust expansion that adds just enough depth and refreshment to deserve a place on your shelf. Its presence doesn't come off as bloated, and it isn't overwrought or needlessly complicated for the sake of adding new stuff. It comes in gracefully, offers just one or two more steps along a natural progression of core mechanics, and leaves you feeling pleasantly sated with that lemony-fresh Euro feeling.
I really enjoy the contracts. They're solid little bits of hidden information that can be exchanged for much-needed resources in a pinch. I really enjoy the extensions. They're a great double-edged sword of lots of points vs. more limitations. I really enjoy the new boats. They're a great way to introduce the new features without having to flood the pool with too many new season tiles. I even enjoy how The Merchants makes estimating scores on the fly a much more abstruse and clandestine prospect. Yes, I like not knowing where people stand points-wise. I understand it's not always a popular preference, but it saves my mind-brain from beating itself up about a perceived failure throughout the entire duration of a game.
Everything about The Merchants seems to click. It's a wonderful love song to a wonderful game; they sing in harmony. In fact, I'd be perfectly happy with it being the final member in the Keyflower chorus (are we going with a musical analogy now?). I say this because it feels as though The Merchants comes precariously close to teetering on the edge of Too Much Of a Good Thing. One more major addition to the game and I fear Kid-In-A-Candy-Store Syndrome would come crashing down all over the table.
Nevertheless, I'm relieved The Merchants turned out to be the cool, quiet philosopher at the party. He could've very easily been the guy desperately hoping someone will comment on the guitar he brought.
Escape: The Curse of the Temple
First played in 2015: 02/11
Played before? Yes
Here's a tricksy title to be filed under: Games I Can Never Quite Remember The Exact Name Of.
Is it Escape!: Curse of the Temple, or Escape: Curse of the Temple? Or is it Escape the Temple Curse? Escape: Temple of the Curse? Curses!: Escape The Damn Temple!? After much deliberation, I'm gonna go with Templar Knights Presents: Escape the Curse: There Was No Curse After All: An M. Night Shyamalan Film.
Unnecessary name aside, Escape is just plain fun. It's silly fun, dumb fun, family fun. Whatever brand of fun you'd like to call it, it's a game that doesn't pretend to be anything but a goofy, thematic dice-chucker. If you're not shouting "TAKE MY GOLD! I'VE GOT A GOLD!" the entire ten minutes of real-time flailing, you're screaming "I'M LOCKED! NEED A GOLD, I NEED A GOLD! NO, I'M NOT IN THE SAME ROOM ANYMORE!"
Just like a real-life archaeologist/explorer/hunky 1930s-era professor!
What is there more to say? If you don't like it, well, it's only 10 minutes of your life. I'm sorry you don't like being fun. The best thing about Escape: The Temple of Cleopatra and the Society of Architects is that it completely takes hold of you. You are in the game for 10 solid minutes. You don't have the time to do anything else. This means that if someone wanders over to your table while you and 1-5 other people are shrieking and shouting and flinging and listening to a doofy soundtrack, you won't have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed until well after it's all over and you return to reality. I can't tell you how many looks of derision and sniffs of snobbery I've completely missed because of the fun I've had within the game. Literally. I couldn't tell you because I was too invested in trying to roll a key, or throw some green bits of plastic at a tile. Escape doesn't put on airs, and neither should you. Just have some fun already.
Deus
First played in 2015: 02/12
Played before? No
I'd wanted to try Deus ever since I first heard it was designed by 1/3rd of the Troyes Team, and it seems February threw me a bone. If first impressions are anything to base one's entire opinion on (and they are; I was once accurately described by a new acquaintance as 'some kind of unearthly abomination of spectacles, self-loathing, and aborted pith', a catchy logline I now employ across several internet dating sites), then Deus is a keeper!
I have a fond appreciation of substantive board games with otherwise thin, floppy, and emaciated-looking rulebooks. This tells me that the meat of the game is not in its many different ways of telling you that you can't do something, but instead must be discovered through actual play. The less rules and caveats and limitations, the stronger the core concept. You can do this, or you can do this. Colors, icons, chits, or your own common sense will tell you if you can't. Simple as that. Deus' gameplay is so beautifully condensed that it took 1 complete newcomer less than 20 minutes to learn how to play and subsequently teach 2 additional newcomers what he had just processed. Apart from one little kerfuffle of pedantry about the difference between a 'region' and a 'continent', we were off and running in no time flat.
In a casual opining of ignorance that will undoubtedly draw the ire of many hardcore board gamers, I found myself likening quite a lot of the game to The Settlers of Catan. Was it the resources on specific regions? Was it the building and blocking strategies? Was it the specific smell of the cardstock? I couldn't quite place it, but Deus felt like a streamlined version of Catan with the filthy misfortune on dice luck surgically extracted from every nook, cranny, crevice, and corner. Yes, there was still the luck of the card draw, but the novel hand-flushing mechanic kept any instance of embitterment by cruel fate to a bare minimum.
So bravo, Sébastien Dujardin, you'll be happy to know that my undying appreciation for you is still quite undead!
The Golden Ages
First played in 2015: 02/12
Played before? No
I'll try to keep my enthusiasm for Alexandre Roche's artwork to a bare and bridled minimum as I discuss my experiences with The Golden Ages, but I can't guarantee I won't break out in an impassioned love song at some point.
I am rather pleased with myself, getting a copy of The Golden Ages to the table. I only had to import it from Canada, who only had to import it from the EU at an only slightly exorbitant cost. But was all that trouble and border crossing and currency exchange worth it? I'd say so! Because I have a serious problem and Internet is my enabler!
The Golden Ages is a wonderfully "Euro" civ game. And when I call it "Euro," I'm not just hurling semi-snobbish epithets lightly. The Golden Ages is about as Euro-minded as they come. Lots and lots of language-independent iconography. Passive-aggressive confrontation. A points track with the ability to transcend double-digit numbers. Alexandre Roche and his sexy, sexy ligne claire designs. A theme that is strong but elastic, nebulous yet succinct; a fair-weather friend that only shows up when there is mention of free cake.
In short, The Golden Ages is a solid little civ game. Never mind the "Euro" demarcation I've been seeing in multiple reviews. Yes, it has a distinctly Euro feel to it, but it also gets right a lot of things that are required for a civ game, and it gets them right in a very concise package. Sprawling, overwrought, and overly complex it is not, and I really quite respect it for that. It has wonders and buildings, leaders and warfare, exploration and colonization, but all of these things feel like miniature cogs in a not-much-larger-but-highly-oiled machine. Before this game came along I had just assumed "sizable time commitment" was part of the very definition of a Civ Game. This one is different. To call it "the CliffsNotes on Civ Games" would be doing it a grave injustice, because I believe it's earned a deserved spot in the genre. It has flavor hitherto unseen in its field. It's spry and springy and thinky, good for a 90-minute romp around the world, and sometimes that's exactly what one is looking for. It is my hope that it gets picked up in the US soon, so more people can play it without the need for an international shipping expense.
Bruxelles 1893
First played in 2015: 02/13
Played before? Yes
Are we sensing a theme yet? Can I break into that impassioned love song now? Still no? Ah well, it's probably for the best. I'm sure Alexandre Roche has a lot on his plate as it is, what with constantly having to avoid the screaming legions of fans that recognize him on the street and shriek positive affirmations at him with the full hormonal force of a Justin Bieber concert. Because if I had hormones, that's probably what I'd be spending my time doing.
Until that time, I think I'll talk about how I really love Bruxelles 1893, and not just for its art. Bruxelles is nothing if not ornate. Whereas The Golden Ages has a refined simplicity to its appearance and gameplay, Bruxelles 1893 accosts the newcomer with colors, tracks, actions, cards, cubes, mats, auctions, costs, risks, sections, meeples, markets, and more. And, in a touch of gilded brilliance, everything is connected. Things trigger other things, which award points for all the things, which trigger yet more things, which are in and of themselves points for things. You can also multiply those things, which will trigger additional things and that is a good things.
Normally this sort of wealth of overdesigned choice would exhaust me, possibly even breed resentment, but the saving grace of Bruxelles is its theme, which is all about unapologetic decadence in the first place. The game is a hedonistic points spree centered in a hedonistic time in history. Brassy and swoopy and gaudy for the sake of being all of those things and then some. It burns the brain with strategy all while proclaiming its existence with an Art Nouveau megaphone.
I love all of the many avenues and options in this game. This is less a Points Salad and more a Points 12-Course-Banquet-with-Complimentary-Chocolate-Cake-On-Your-Pillow-When-You-Waddle-Back-To-Your-Hotel-Room. Everything you do positively sneezes points upon you. You can create beautiful works of art. You can sell them on the market. You can build buildings both noble and ignoble. You can attend the theatre to rub shoulders with famous patrons. You can cut corners with less-than-legal goods. You can get caught up in the red tape of City Hall. You can win auctions. You can get kickbacks. You can climb tracks. You can vie for area control. You can fudge the costs for construction. You can pay off famous people. You can attend exhibitions. You can probably do a great many number of other things that I'm unaware of because the rulebook is about as dense and totalitarian as a manifesto.
It is a rare and significant feat to get this game to the table. It's simply not for everyone and I can completely respect that. This game more than any other elicits such visceral first impressions, that finding interested players is almost a game itself. There are two types of board gamers. Those that take one glance at Bruxelles 1893 and say:
"NOPE."
And those that do a double-take and proclaim:
"HOLY MOTHER OF GEORGES BRUGGMAN I MUST PLAY IT NOW."
I happen to be one of the latter. Someday, I'll find more than just the 1 or 2 others of my kind, and we will spend many long hours bidding and placing and building to our hearts' content.
Caverna: The Cave Farmers
First played in 2015: 02/14
Played before? Yes
Tableau-building. Tile-laying. Worker placement. Procreating dwarfs. What do all of these things have in common? They just so happen to be my top four favorite mechanics in all of board gaming! And until recently, there was a shockingly small pool of board games that employed each and every one of them! I can't tell you the number of times someone introduced a new game to me that came so frustratingly close, so nearly complete, yet failed to include one or two of these hallowed mechanics into its overall mise-en-scène. For the longest time, I became known as that guy, who flat-out refused to play a new game unless it dwelt on some aspect of dwarfs procreating.
"Tile-laying and tableau-building, you say?" I'd say, stroking my chin. "Say," I'd continue to say, "These tiles being lain into a specific tableau-- they wouldn't happen to have something to do with small, stout fantasy tropes making babies, now would they?"
The inevitable answer would come. My heart would once again be broken. Tears would flow.
"THEN NEVER," I would shriek with utmost tragedy. "PUT ME BACK INTO THE CRYOGENIC STASIS POD UNTIL SUCH A VERY SPECIFIC TIME ARRIVES!"
And then, at long last, Caverna: The Cave Farmers was born unto this world. It was everything I could've ever hoped for, and more, and then a little more after that. It had tiles. It had tableaus. It had workers being placed. And, most importantly, it allowed--nay, REQUIRED--short, stout fantasy tropes to get it on. It also had something called a "Cuddle Room," which was more or less like a cherry on the top of a very precise sundae.
Caverna: The Cave Farmers is a wonderful sandbox of opportunity, the severely spoiled, most likely emotionally-scarred child of a distant and austere farmer and a overly doting, fabulously wealthy Sybarite libertine. This is the only home life I can think of that could possibly birth something as ridiculously fecund, exceedingly lenient, fantastically over-produced, and terribly over-compensating as Caverna comes off being. And, like a member of this selfsame family, I say all of these otherwise negative things with a strong sense of love and loyalty.
I love that Caverna is over-produced to the point of a hernia-inducing box weight. I love that Caverna, unlike its predecessor, rewards and forgives a more curiosity-driven, exploratory playstyle. I love that Caverna is like the Hummer H3 of board games-- in no way needed, in every way pleasurable. Caverna is a crushed velvet neck pillow on the wrist of a corpulent Caesar. Caverna is a Michael Bay movie as directed by Federico Fellini. Caverna is a forest-decimating, cardboard-stacking, donkey-breeding romp through fields and caves of open-ended possibility.
And I love it like two dwarfs love makin' a third.
Kneel, Caverna, and let me tap you about the shoulders with this neat-looking sword I found on a Level 15 Expedition.
Well, there's one-half of awful February made slightly less awful with the brilliance of board game banter. A completely legal, orthogonal, and luck-mitigated thank you to all who stop by to read these silly things. I appreciate all of your comments, thumbs, and tips. In fact, keeping with the spirit of Wrong At Least Once, I dedicate my first official blog errata to the courteous and informative
Now, in an effort to capitalize on this public humbling, I have purposely inserted 439 inconsistencies, falsities, and outright lies in the preceding blog post, and will reward anyone who finds them all. Happy hunting!
-nāt