2.14: Game Room Rules - Rule #1

As if I don't already have unfinished multi-part posts, let's just start another one, one that will probably be 10 or more parts.  Awesome!  Little gaming this week, despite another effort to teach my brother Agricola--instead we played the "raise an enormous aluminum garage and use all day" game.  At least that's almost done; still, I'm beginning to thing that if we ever do teach David how to play Agricola, the world will come to an end.


I've been contemplating posting some "Rules of gaming" in my loft.  It started a couple years back with a great gift from my wife, a long frame with a antiqued game theme (more poker/checkers, but it still looks nice), and a poem that reads:

Game Room Rules
Welcome to the place where we like to play our games...
We want you to enjoy yourself, and we'll try to do the same.
Remember:
No cheating
No fighting
No Temper Tantrums Please!
Don't be a sore loser, and...
Don't brag too much if you win.
It's only a game, so just Have Fun!

2.13: So you've decided to design a game?

D had the Ticket to Ride tournament this past week at Alan Moon's Gathering of Friends.  There were 16 competitors, and in the first round only the top eight would proceed into Day 2 of the tournament.  D took 9th place; while I'm proud to say she even made it this far, as her older brother I am required by law to point out that this makes her the first loser.  Regardless, she apparently had a great time, and met some fun people, and has continued to spend a good amount of time mocking me.  On the other hand, she and Danny are now even further ensconced in the boardgaming hobby, so in reality, I win.  


Neener, neener.

I mentioned in last week's post that many gamers add or alter the rules to games they play, or even go so far as to design their own games.  Well, me too.  On the last one. 

I'm not actually sure how much information I should be sharing right now, though as I approach a final product I'll be happy to chat it up as much as possible.  So, instead, I'll discuss a little of the process so far.

To anyone attending The Gathering

My sister, Mychael (pronounced just like the male "Michael"), is apparently enjoying herself quite a lot at The Gathering, and has been kind enough to continue taunting me (all in good fun), and has even gotten a few people to start sending me messages through Boardgamegeek.com.

So, to anyone currently attending The Gathering, please lend me a hand to return the taunting.  Don't worry, none of this will hurt her feelings, and she'll instantly know that I put you up to this.  First, here's  a photo of her (the gal on the left, obviously).  If you're having trouble finding her, she's apparently being called "The girl with the guy's name."

You can help me simply by telling her someone told you to say one of the following things:
(I'll be adding more as I think of them)


1.  Mychael, Mychael, Motorcycle.  

2.  "What's gonna work?"  (She should respond, "Team work!")

3.  Ask her about Safety goggles and Rukshuk.

Hope you all are enjoying your time at The Gathering.  Don't worry about me, I'm just sitting at home.  Alone.  With no one to game with this weekend.  Excuse me, I have something in both my eyes.

Good Luck, D!

My sister called today--I expected a snotty conversation full of mockery, but instead it was just moderate mockery, as she had just arrived at The Gathering of Friends.  My assumption was that she would have arrived much sooner than when she called, but apparently she slept through her flight.  While not yet on the plane. 

This was my chance for mockery.  Apparently she had a couple hours before her plane departed, so she decided to nap in the terminal right next to the boarding door.  She woke and asked if her plane was boarding, and the lady at the counter told her it had left 20 minutes earlier. 

No problem, D, it's just a once-in-a-lifetime invitation, oh, and you have a tournament you're supposed to attend. 

Right now she's probably playing something really awesome with boardgame industry people.  Curse her.

I'm not sure exactly when the tournament starts, but I wish her luck. 

2.12: A convoluted and over the top closing.

Last week I proposed a fictitious but highly realistic scenario in which my house had caught fire, and I had only a short moment to grab three games and escape the house.  I had mentioned that Danny, my brother in law who had proposed this predicament, offered this question in two parts.  My 100% completely successful April Fool's joke took the place of the second post last week, so I'm going to cover the second half of Danny's question this week, starting where we left off.

I have a small armful of games, and now find myself trapped in the loft, a wall of flame separating me from the staircase.  I turn around, already certain that I'll find the same thing keeping me from the window.  Walled in, smoldering pieces of ceiling begin to fall around me--the roof won't hold much longer.  I know I have one chance:  I'll have to sacrifice a few games to distract the fire. 

A Monk-like Life

Well, I've made a decision.  I've cluttered my life with too many things, I have a family to care for, bills to pay, a job I have to attend to every day--sometimes even during the holidays.  There are things that can be trimmed, and less important things go first.

I present you with a photo from my game room:

That's right, I've decided to give my game collection away.  It not only consumes part of my income, but also many hours of my week.  I have donated my collection, so hopefully a number of orphaned children and stray animals will be aided by this act as well.

2.11: A convoluted and over the top opening

"Lucio, you suck.  Your update is late again, I can't believe I'm paying for this."  Yeah, yeah.  To make up for last week's missed post, I'll be doing two posts this week--since this was originally intended to be a two-part post, it should work out quite well. 


I'll set the stage.  While preparing a 47 course meal heavy in caviar and saffron, some Komodo Dragon grease spills over my saute pan and onto the stove, erupting into a six-foot gout of flame.  The Picasso above the stove catches and explodes, cubist shards of flaming death hurtling across the kitchen and dining room.  I roll with the explosion, and as I rise, patting out small flames on my clothing, I hear our car pull up; I had sent my family away so I could scour the house spotless and cook my wife this fantastic dinner.

Rushing out the door I wave them away, quickly informing my wife of what had just happened, and dashing back in to get our family keepsakes:  Photos (both physical and digital), a carving of a boot done my my grandfather, two pocket watches, my wife's bouquet, and my daughter's umbilical cord (just kidding, that's gross).  Dumping these outside, I turn back to the house; flames curl upward from the doorway and I can see by the pulsating yellow glow from the upstairs windows that the fire has spread upstairs.  The second floor windows explode outward, glass shattering around me--the fire has apparently reached our second Picasso (why these were done with explosive paint is beyond me).  My family and I are safe, but one last thing pulls me inside--in my mind I hear the whimpering of my boardgames.  I'll have one chance, just enough time to grab a few games, so what do I take?