How To Make a Dog Fly

So, after reading about the daring exploits of the World War One Flying Ace, I know you are clamoring with questions:

“Did you make that?”
“Can I get one?”
“Does he have all his shots?”

Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t have to worry about rabies from this dog, so we’ll let that last one go (and the nice men in the white coats will be along to assist you shortly).

But for the other two, the answers can be (mostly) found here!

Answer One: “Sort of.”

Answer Two: “Probably.”

Here’s how it all came to be.

I was strolling with the lovely bride through our local Walgreens, checking out the clearance possibilities in their toy aisle, when this little beauty caught my eye.

 Normally I’m not into kitsch collectibles, but I knew a Wings of War/Glory night was coming up, and this just screamed “BUY ME! CHANGE ME! HELP ME SHOOT DOWN PLANES!” The clearance sticker also screamed “$0.87”!

No self-respecting Wings of War player can pass up a potential flying Snoopy for under a buck.
And even I couldn’t resist.

Home Snoopy came (reference intended), bravely preparing for the essential surgery that would change his future forever.

I pulled out my array of miniature crafting tools, and looked at the rivet structure bolting the wheel chassis and hot-rod engine parts to the bottom of the doghouse. Of the objects at my command, well, actually none were truly suited for the job. But I began by thinking “If I drill out the center of the rivet, it might just pop off.” So I grabbed the pin vise and the largest bit for it and drilled away.

And drilled away.

And drilled away.

And noticed that my thumb hurt.

And noticed that I needed a bigger drill.

So I pulled out my massive, battery powered power drill, put in a bit that matched the size of the rivet head, locked Snoopy in a clamp (for his safety and mine), but bit to metal, pressed the trigger...and the battery died.

So I transferred the bigger bit to the pin vise (it barely fit), and drilled away.
And drilled away.

And noticed that my thumb really hurt now.

And then remembered that I had an old turn-crank hand drill from my youth (a gift from my Dad to use for building pinewood derby cars in Cub Scouts, and I still have it).

So I grabbed that, and went to town, to the grateful relief of my now blistered thumb.

After some furious crank turning (and the thought “I need a Dremel”), I *finally* could pop the chassis and engine from the doghouse, leaving an inconvenient shaft that I realized I couldn’t cut away (without a Dremel, at least).

But when held upright, the shaft was completely invisible.

Originally my plan was to glue a Wings of Glory support post underneath the doghouse. But the metal rivet shaft made that plan impossible without some method to cut it away.

So I punted, and instead found a chunk of styrofoam, cut it into a cube sized to fit the inside of the doghouse, painted the exterior with black acrylic paint, and just jammed it inside the doghouse, around the shaft. I then stuck the whole thing on my plane support post, et voilá! One  flying beagle!

And a handsome fellow he is, too!

So if you want one, search around your local toy store for their Hot Wheels selection, grab a Dremel (or at least a drill with a fully charged battery) and cut away.

I love easy conversions.

See you on the tabletop!

— Parzival, the Wargamesmonger

Dogfight Over France!

A Most Suspicious Breakfast

The skies were clear over the Western Front— clear except for the enormous roaring monster that was a German Gotha bomber. The great beast was on a typical mission— to bomb a bridge and a factory deep in Allied France. Though quite well armed, the commanders had spoken, and two escorts rose along with her— none other than the Red Baron himself, once again in the cockpit of his beloved crimson triplane. He was joined by an older, yet capable Albatros D.III, a brother in its markings to the the Baron’s own pride and joy. There had been a slightly “off” taste to the morning’s sauerkraut, but neither the Baron or his wingman thought much of it. One accepted what one had here on the front, and a fine wine had washed it down all the same.

But as they approached their mission’s target zone, the aces began to doubt their vision and their decision to fly the mission. Oh, the three rising Allied attackers were not a problem— they were two-seater fighters, a threat to the bomber, of course, but no match in maneuverability or speed for the German fighters. But that fourth...object...racing in from the south...how did it fly? Who—or rather what—was its pilot? Mein Gutt! What was in that sauerkraut???

World War One Flying Ace with Favorite Beverage.

A New, uhm, “Plane” for the Dawn Patrol.

It was time again for yet another evening of Wings of War/Wings of Glory, this time at Commandant Will’s domicile. And as promised, I had a surprise up my sleeve (okay, in my miniatures box).

Yes, that’s exactly who it looks like. The Red Baron’s greatest nemesis (if he had only known)— or maybe just the result of some bad sauerkraut— the Famous World War One Flying Ace...Snoopy, and his trusty Sopwith Camel...uh, red doghouse.

(Where did he come from? How did you make him? Where do I get one? Well, that’s a different blog.)

For the purposes of the game, Snoopy was a standard Sopwith Camel (Barker’s plane being the one I replaced). I attempted to argue that Snoopy’s guns, being imaginary, could not be jammed. To which Captain Michael replied, “Snoopy’s bullets, being imaginary, shouldn’t do damage.” So I waved away the former if he would wave away the latter, and we got on with the game. (Really, Michael, you were supposed to be my ally, as you were flying British planes!)

So, after quaffing burgers with root beer (the drink of choice for the World War One Flying Ace), we took to the air.

The Dogfight Begins (Pun Intended)

First strike to Snoopy!

As you can see, the Red Baron and Snoopy encountered each other from the start. A brief burst from Snoopy’s paws...uh, guns...and the dogfight had begun.

He was trying to read the lettering on the tires.
(And apologies as I have no idea what the German is for "beagle.")

Initially, Snoopy and the Red Baron engaged in incredibly tight maneuvering, too close for either to get off a shot. The Crimson Albatros turned in to aid the Baron, a tactical error for the Germans as this fight was not actually about Snoopy, as awesome as he of course is. The Bristol/RH4 trio closed in on the Gotha, taking fire from the giant’s two guns, but responding with their own— and also catching the Albatros in their fire as well.

Snoopy takes a hit! (But Albatros makes a mistake...)

Nice flying, Snoops!

Snoopy, knowing the Gotha would require a lot of bullets to down, and unable to get a bead on his nimble nemesis, decided to go straight for the bomber. He quickly realized this was a mistake, as he wound up behind the Bristols and unable to fire through them at the bomber. Perhaps, the beagle thought, maybe his true job was to harry the German fighters and protect the Bristols while they did the task of taking out the Gotha.

A Bridge Too Close.

In the meantime, the Bristols were doing a good job of that, as a lucky strike killed the Gotha’s rear gunner, leaving the beast unable to bite the hunters on its tail. Despite this, the bomber reached its first target, a bridge that clearly served as a key supply route for the Allied lads in the trenches. Unfortunately for the Germans, bad luck continued to rule their day, as the first load of bombs were only capable of dealing partial damage to the bridge. The span would require a second pass, a dangerous delay considering that a second target also needed to be struck.

Meanwhile, Snoopy showed just how skilled he was as a pilot, executing a swift Immelmann turn to race back directly at the Red Baron. Snoopy took serious fire at this point (“Curse you, Red Baron!”), and was much concerned about the continued airworthiness of his doghouse (9 damage against a max of 13).

Brief action interlude! With awesome special effects! And one killer 'stache!

Brief inaction interlude!

Quite a fight and mighty tight!

The Bristols/RH4 continued their pursuit of the Gotha, pouring heavy fire into the behemoth of the skies, and taking fire both from it and the Albatros, and even the Red Baron (it had become quite a tight little scrum at this point). 

Back to the shooting!

Everybody dance now!

It's raining lead!

 The Albatros, however, fell away, struck down by the rear gunner of a British Bristol. 1st kill to the Allies!

1st kill! The flying half & half cookie takes out an Albatros!
(Oh, come on. That's exactly what that Bristol white & brown color scheme makes you think of, isn't it?)

Snoopy Comes Out On Top!

And then, quite unlike his typical experience chronicled in comics and television, Snoopy achieved his ultimate dream— he downed the Red Baron! Yes, the dreaded scarlet triplane plummeted from the skies, pursued by the triumphant barking of the brave beagle.

Baron down! Baron down! Bark bark bark bark bark!

Snoopy executed a victory barrel roll over his fallen foe as he sped now to aid his comrades against the lumbering Goliath— but there was no need. The steady British flyboys had done their work. The Gotha too was gone. The bridge was intact, the munitions factory in no danger. Snoopy and the lads had saved the day!

And a Round of Root Beers for Afters

This was quite an enjoyable evening. The group got a kick out of Snoopy’s appearance in the game, and I had a lot of fun flying him, hamming it up, “firing” my arms at the enemy, and making appropriate Snoopy sounds throughout. Will even pulled up the classic novelty song Snoopy and the Red Baron as the theme music for the night.

A Little Artistic Serendipity-Dog

As for Snoopy’s “banking” turns visible in the photographs, these came about by happy accident. The inside of the doghouse contains styrofoam, as I hadn’t had time to come up with a more substantial way of attaching the post from my Sopwith Camel base. Instead, the styrofoam is simply jammed on the post, with friction holding the assembly in place. As a result, a little accidental nudging caused Snoopy to appear to “bank” (and also allowed him to be easily straightened, too). I quite like the effect. I suppose in the long run I’ll need a more permanent and durable fix, but having Snoopy appear to fly was a fun little element for the game.

Up next: How I “Made” Snoopy, or Quick and Cheaply Letting Someone Else Do the Hard Parts.

But for now, thanks for reading!

--- Parzival

Death in the Clouds

The Coldest Dawn

“Mein Gott! Must we fly in this?” The new leftenant waved a thickly gloved hand through the swirling flakes that descended in the gray dawn. He glared at his crew, as if daring them to disagree.
“We fly when the Fatherland needs, no matter what God sends our way— or the Devil.” The voice was young, but there was a coldness to it, deeper than the frozen air, as of someone who had danced with Death many, many times.
The leftenant’s crew snapped to attention, as he spun around to face the speaker. “I am Leftena—” he started, but cut off his speech, his face blanching as one with the snow. “I-I- forgive me, Herr Commandant!” The glove snapped up in a salute.
The commander waved the salute away. “It is of no matter, leftenant. I am none too fond of this weather myself.” He looked up. “But it will be a fine day above these clouds, with the mother Sun behind our backs.” The veteran pilot smiled. “But do not expect her to warm them much. Icarus must have flown higher than I to catch her heat.”
“Sir, I just hope we shan’t catch our deaths in this cold!”
The commander stared at the leftenant. “It is war. Someone always catches Death. And it is always cold.”
The Red Baron turned and walked across the snowy aerodrome to his crimson triplane, which blazed like fresh blood against the snow-streaked ground.

A Flight for War and Glory

Recently my group gathered for an evening of Wings of War/Wings of Glory, featuring my as yet unblooded Gotha GV bomber. We had a new victi— that is, player— joining us, who eagerly selected the bomber as his plane of choice. A bit much for a rookie to the game, but he was insistent, and we felt we could coach him through any difficulties (though admittedly, none of us had ever flown one of the “Giants of the Air” either!). (I apologize for the fuzzy photos— aerial photography is hard!)

DOGFIGHT!

For simplicity’s sake, our scenario was simple: The rookie bomber pilot would have two targets for his bombs; a factory placed in the center of the table, and a bridge placed towards the farthest corner from his entry point. If he could succeed with both bomb drops, the Central Powers (Germany) would win; if he was shot down without achieving this goal, victory would go to the Allies (Britain).

The table, as you can see, is triangular, making for an unusual set up. We took advantage of this to create a three-point entry situation: The Gotha from one corner, the Allies (all Brits) from another, and the German fighter cover from the third (as if on advanced patrol near the targets).

We paid no attention to points, but merely allowed each side to select their favored aircraft. As the rest of us were experienced pilots, and we felt the bombing run was rather simple, we allowed the Allies fighters (Michael and Chase) to take four planes (two per player), while Will and I commanded three— Will, a lone Albatros D.II, and myself an Albatros D.Va and the famous crimson Fokker Dr.1— the Red Baron himself. The British planes were a Bristol F.28 two-seater fighter, an R.E.8 two-seater, and two Sopwith Snipes. (Clearly, we also didn't pay attention to concurrent service years, either.)

I had not packed my traditional green felt table cover, so we used the table’s existing white pad as our surface, which we decided represented a snowy dawn over France, with enough break in the clouds to reveal the bomber’s target (“The Devil always leaves a path for Death,” says the Red Baron).

Duel above the clouds! Or the snow! Take your pick!

The fight started off with a rather lengthy approach (due to table size), which included the Rookie inevitably miss-plotting and turning back across (and off) the table. In our group we call that “pulling a Fleming,” for the hapless pilot among us who first pulled this error (and still does, from time to time).

Not this Fleming, but not the other one, either. "The rookie did it!"

"Of course I can fly it. See? I turned around all by myself!"

Having corrected for this mishap by allowing the bomber to return to the field, the fight began in earnest. Early hits went to the German aces, but soon the first victim plummeted through the clouds to the frozen lands below— the Red Baron himself! (Truly, the Fokker Dr.1 is just too fragile an airframe, maneuverability or not. Though admittedly losing that maneuverability in the first fracas didn’t help!)

No! Not the Baron!

Jammed rudders suck.

After the death of the Baron, the fight finally reached the Gotha, and she began taking hits— and dealing them. But not before a second German plane went down— prompting its pilot to abandoned his loyalties and take up arms for the other side! (Will claimed one of the extra Allied craft so as to stay in the game— a poor excuse for treason as ever there was!)

Another German down! So sorry, Will. You shall be avenged— uh, Will? Why are you in a British uniform?

But the Central Powers pressed on, and soon the first British plane spiraled into the ground— and the bomber reached her first target. Down went the bombs, and the factory was ablaze. “That one’s for the Baron!”

British take a long fall.

BOMBALAMA BOOM BOOM!

On to the bridge, a desperate chase— the Allied suffered another loss, the Albatros finally making good on its presence. Fire continued to pour into the Gotha, but on she flew, inching ever closer to victory— closer, closer, almost there... (Wait, wrong movie.)

Stay on target...

Stay on target......

And down she went, just shy of that final break in the clouds. The Devil got his due, but the Kaiser did not.

Well, so much for that!

The lone Albatros abandoned the field, returning to bring news of mourning to the aerodrome.

Final Briefing
It was generally agreed that had not the bomber “pulled a Fleming,” the victory might well have gone the other way. The delay in reaching the first target certainly allowed the Allied planes the time to close. We were stunned at the amount of hits the bomber took— he kept drawing card after card after card— but the tale of the deal showed that many were 0s, resulting in no actual damage to the craft. As the British had chosen planes armed with weaker B guns, this had much to do with the Gotha’s longevity in the fight.

A lotta bullets and a lotta blanks.

Wings of War (or Wings of Glory, as it is now sold) is always a satisfying game, and a real pleaser for rookies. We’re already set up for return engagements of the game. I for one, relish getting in the cockpit again— though not the Dr.1. No, I have something (and someone) more exciting to fly...but that surprise will have to wait.

‘Til then, thumbs up and watch your six!

—- Parzival, the Wargamesmonger

The Hap-Happiest Day of the Year

It Came From The Future, Or At Least Texas

Oh happy day! I return from my morning Sonic run to find a “yuge” box on my front porch… a box from Texas… which can only mean…

MY OGRES ARE HERE!

Da Box!

(Not to mention a whole lotta tanks.)

Whole Lotta Stuff inside!

Anudda Box!

 It was like what you always imagined the experience would be like when you ordered the “footlocker” of toy soldiers from the back of the comic book; only this time, the imagination paid off, in SPADES!

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

For clarity, this is the Ogre* Miniatures Set 2 “Many Minis” box from Steve Jackson Games’ Kickstarter (I already have Set 1, though this time I went whole hog…)

Envy Me

I’ve got

Ogres (Mk III, Mk IV, Mk V— all AI übertanks)

Fencers (and Fencer-Bs— also AI übertanks, with lotsa missiles)

Super Heavy Tanks (two big guns)

Heavy Tanks

Missile Tanks

Light Tanks

GEVs (aka “Hovertanks”)

Light GEVs

Transport GEVs

Howitzers (Not actually tanks)

Mobile Howitzers (okay, not really tanks, but they move and have Honkin’ Big Guns)

Infantry (In power armor, so kinda like pocket tanks for one dude each.)

In da box!

In da udda box!

Goodies!

I’ve got ‘em in Red and Blue, Blue and Red, Green, Gray, Black and Glow In the Dark (so I could play Ogre in the dark— I already have the glow-in-the-dark die—,though to be honest it would be dang hard to see the map or read the combat chart…)

More goodies!

I’ve got 290 of the things now… (actually, more than that… somewhere close to 400 of ‘em, all told, when you add in previous purchases!)

And I’ve got the latest rules and scenarios, some nifty punch-out markers for special situations, and a nice big map for scenarios. And another black die, which you can never have too many of.

Rules, Map and More!

Now, Steve, bring on the Combine forces.**

In the meantime, I’ve got a whole lotta sprue clipping to do…

Get ta work! Those tanks ain't gonna build themselves!

Yours atomically,

Parzival, the Wargamesmonger

*If you don’t know what Ogre is (or what GEV is), please turn in your Gamer Geek card, because you aren’t one. (But you can gain it back. Hie thee to Steve Jackson Games and feast your eyes on OGRE, the Greatest Future Cybertank Game Ever Created. Get it, or find a gamer friend who has it, and play.)

**Except for the Ogres, the forces in Set 1 and 2 are from the Paneuropean Forces in the game setting. The Ogres are from the North American Combine army (you can see some of these designs in this blog entry (the figures there are metal miniatures produced about 20-30 years ago).

"Queen to Queen's Level Two, Mr. Spock."

As a young geek in the '70s and '80s, I desired a handful of impossible things: a robot, a Star Trek communicator, a laser, a computer, my own Millennium Falcon, and a flying car. Today I now possess, in some form, all but one of these treasures: I have a Roomba robot, an iPhone, several lasers (pointers, leveler, etc.), multiple computers, a Millennium Falcon drone (okay, somethings you have to settle on, but still way cool), but alas, not yet the flying car. One object, however, was also a desire of my youth, and was in fact available back then: A three-dimensional chess set from Star Trek!1

The object of my geek desire.

Alas for my young self, though available, the three dimensional chess set was a replica model built by the Franklin Mint (of overpriced collectible plate fame), with gilded pieces and components, and whopping out at way over $200 (back when $100 was closer to $300 in today's dollars). That was too much moolah for a young teen, paper route or no paper route. Plus, I had other things to pay for that seemed of more value (like D&D books, Atari video cartridges, and pizza). So I passed on the gilded glory of that replica set, and played old-fashioned two dimensional chess, like Khan stuck on Ceti Alpha V (or is that VI?).

Warp forward several decades (and several Treks), and I find myself now with a little more ready cash. I also knew that the Franklin Mint was still selling replica sets, so I figured surely the price had dropped (if not for new, at least for used) and maybe I could get one of these beauties, just like Kirk and Spock used to play.

"Computer: Locate a Star Trek three-dimensional chess set," I cried. When the computer ignored me, and the Roomba simply continued to vacuum the floor, I broke down and typed the request into Google.²

When I saw the prices revealed by Google, however, I learned that the value of these things had increased like the warp speed numbers from TOS to TNG. $300 a pop, new or used?!? Who were selling these things, Harry Mudd? I was also astute enough to notice that the sets in question were not actually true replicas of the set from the series, but overly gussied-up "inspired by" designs. Some, still exorbitantly priced, were actually based on a design in The Next Generation series (appreciated, but hardly a nostalgia source). A perusal of reviews indicated that the sets were small, and actually not very well constructed ("flimsy" was one of the reviewer's words).

Yep, sounds like quality Mudd merchandise after all.

On the other hand, I mused, how hard could it be to just build my own? All I needed were some clear flat surfaces and a support structure of some sort.

I began to design. My goal was to create something easy for me to cut (as I told a friend, "I'm no fabricator”), and fashioned out of as many found objects as possible— a "penny project," or at least as close to $20 or less as I could manage.

A lot of math, some failed designs (and a realization that I hadn't needed to do all that math) and a few minor injuries³ later... And voila:

It lives! It lives! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Materials:

A pine shelf board, left over from an old home project (free!)

Three 5"x5" clear acrylic lids from old square craft containers (had 'em, so free!)

Four 2.5"x2.5" clear plexiglass-style plastic squares from a DYI/hardware store ($3.49)

Four 2.5" hex bolts with hex nuts ($1.20)

Four magnetic "push pins" ($5.99 for 10)

Four small "rare earth" disc magnets (had 'em, so free!)

Transparent inkjet label "paper" ($6.00 for pack of 8 sheets; used 2)

A set of small plastic chess pieces from a dollar store ($1. Duh.)

Mounting putty ($1.89 for 2 oz.; used 1 oz.)

Carpenter's glue (had)

"Super" glue (had)

Paint (had)

Tools:

Ruler

Computer (for design and printing)

Jigsaw

Power sander (also did a little hand sanding)

Total cash cost to me: $19.59

Eat your heart out, Franklin Mint/Harry Mudd!

What I used the materials for:

Wood: Support and base (cut with a jigsaw)

Acrylic container lids: Three "main boards" attached to support.

Clear plastic squares: Four small, movable "warp boards.”⁴

Hex bolts and nuts: Posts for warp boards.

Disc magnets: Attach to bottom of warp board posts.

Push pin magnets: Used to hold warp boards to main boards.

Transparent label paper: Chessboard pattern printed on, then applied to clear boards.

Mounting putty: Add weight to chess pieces, provide light tack effect to hold pieces in place.

To answer questions:

The "Cantilever E" design is entirely mine. It allows for a simple build, with no need to drill the plastic, and leaves the playing area uniquely open. Nothing interferes with the line of movement of the pieces or the placement of the moveable "warp boards."

I designed my chess board pattern on my computer (with vertical "sighting marks" for the overlapping ranks), and simply printed it on the labels with my inkjet printer. Easier, cleaner, and much better looking than any hand painting attempt I could have made!

The mounting putty is highly recommended. It has just enough tack to hold the chess pieces to the plastic boards. When someone inevitably bumps the table, I don't get an avalanche of pawns!

The hex bolts are superglued to the chess pattern labels stuck to the underside of the warp boards. I glued the bolt heads to the labels and not the plastic because "super" glue will cloud acrylic, but not the label plastic.

The hex nuts are an attempt to level out the small magnets attached to the bottom of the hex bolts. It turns out that bolt bottoms are not square, but slightly slanted. The nuts help; it's not perfect, but it's close enough.

The magnets are not glued to anything; they're magnets! They are strong enough to grip each other through the hard acrylic, and even hold a full warp board upside down. (If you try this, don't bother with ceramic magnets or magnetic tape: they're much too weak. Use "rare earth" aka "neodymium" magnets. I was lucky to have some on hand.)

The push pins contain rare earth magnets in the base. The plastic heads are easy to grip and remove with one hand, making the warp boards quite simple to move and reattach. The magnets also mean there won't ever be a problem with any plastic prongs or post holes wearing out with use (a potential flaw of the commercial sets). Two minor drawbacks are that the magnets allow the posts to turn if nudged, and a severe jarring motion or bump of the set might cause the posts to fall off altogether. But any turning is easily correctable, and it takes a pretty egregious jolt to knock the posts off; a little care during play should prevent this.

The Rules:

As it turns out, there are truly no "official" rules for Star Trek-style three dimensional chess. The original set was simply a futuristic prop created by art director Walter Jeffries. The actors merely placed and moved the pieces as stage action, with little specific direction, trusting the unusual design to hide the fact they weren't actually following any set of rules.⁵

Rules can be found all over the web. The most famous are Andrew Bartmeiss's "Federation Standard" rules, which he sells commercially, and on which the Franklin Mint rules are reportedly based. Second are Jen Meder's "Tournament Rules for Three Dimensional Chess." The two systems are quite different; Meder's is simpler, but assumes that pieces block movement through squares directly above or below— one can move a piece to the square, but not past it. It also allows for "virtual squares" that are assumed to occupy the empty gaps between the warp boards. Bartmeiss follows a much stricter movement rule; as I haven't purchased his rules, I can only go from reports and second-hand rewrites, which indicate that his three dimensional movement is highly restricted from level to level. Other rules variants exist as well.

So, given the above, I simply created my own!

I decided that I wanted a free-form, fully three-dimensional game, with a strong intuitive feel, while still very much being chess. So my rules both restrict the pieces to following the physically existing paths on the board, but also allow pieces to move over and under each other (and across levels) quite freely— it’s supposed to be an abstracted, three dimensional space combat game played by Starfleet officers, after all!

I call my rules StarChess, and here they are (PDF file): StarChess Rules by Howard Shirley More Complete StarChess Rules (but without diagrams)

My initial placement rules are based on the layout suggested by Joseph Franz in his classic Star Trek: Starfleet Technical Manual. I think this layout reflects the nature of chess, as it allows the Knights to jump the pawn line, just as in classic chess, and it also allows for a reasonable implementation of the castling move. Other starting positions must necessarily restrict one or the other, if not both.

Acknowledgements

Thanks are due to Lon Maxwell for helpful advice as well as his offer to help build a larger version (which we will do). Also thanks to to Jen Meder and Andrew Bartmeiss for rules inspiration, to Joseph Franz for revealing that yes, this could be a DIY project, and of course to Walter M. Jeffries, Gene Roddenberry, and the cast and crew of Star Trek for creating a fascinating future.

Live long, and prosper!

Oh, and "Checkmate, Mr. Spock."

Parzival out.

Footnotes

1.)  Back before there was any such designation as "The Original Series," because no one had even thought of anything more.

2.) I suppose I could have asked Siri, but she would have just started giving me directions that for some reason YOU CAN'T TURN OFF UNTIL THE FRICKIN' PHONE BATTERY DIES. And the directions would have been to "Starred Wreck 3 Diamond All Chestnut Street."

So basically, we're still working on the Enterprise computer. Unless this is an episode where it's been hacked.

3.) I originally attempted to cut my own plastic using a box cutter blade to score the plastic and then a sharp downward push to snap the plastic. Hey, it's what Bob Vila recommended. What I got was shattered plastic, a punctured hand, and a directive from She Who Must Be Obeyed that I am forbidden to ever cut plastic again. So I had the store do it for me.

4.) Others refer to these as "attack boards," though as far as I can tell they attack nothing and aren't specifically used for attack, except incidentally. They do, however, change the shape of the game board drastically, and add more levels. Plus, they can carry a piece to new positions beyond the piece's capability to reach. Since these movable mini-levels, in effect, warp the game space, I call them "warp boards." I think that's thoroughly logical and decidedly clever. And of course, you agree.

5.) If you watch the show carefully, you will quickly see that the movements and placements of pieces in the "game" bear little resemblance to chess of any kind, and often make no logical sense. Leonard Nimoy's Spock is ironically the worst at simulating chess game play; he simply picks and places pieces without regard to their long established movement patterns, and declares "check" when nothing is threatening the opposing king by any reasonable stretch. Shatner, on the other hand, does attempt to move the pieces in a chess-like manner, and even creates a plausible "checkmate" position in his scenes.