Pandemic Painting

Greetings fellow lockdown-cabin-fever sufferers! 

Well, I finally realized that I could use all this externally imposed downtime to tackle the lead pile. Painting is not my favorite element of this hobby— I like to have painted more than I like to paint. But it can pass the time, especially when watching this bizarre sports season, where I only half-pay attention to which NFL/College team which I don't root for beat up some other NFL/College team I don't root for either. Great for painting, or at least getting hobby stuff done.

So far, this is what's happened before my brushes surrendered to chaos:

These are all 10mm scale, mostly Copplestone Castings' fantasy line, with one Games Workshop 10mm Dwarf Archer unit from their OOP Battle of Five Armies line on the far right, between the cavalry and a unit of spearmen.

The units are, from left to right, starting with the front row:

Half-orcs (Uruk-hai) with Swords (three units), Half-orcs (Uruk-hai) with Spears (two units), Horse Tribe Horse Archers

Rangers (Dunedain or Ithilien, take your pick)

Horse Tribe Foot Archers (two units), Dwarf Archers (one unit)

Horse Tribe Infantry (three units)

The half-orcs currently have bare bases because I'm going to use sand for their "ground" rather than grass, and I don't have any sand in the house. Though I admit the basic black look is growing on me. Hey, they're Saruman's Army, so the whole black thing works for them.

I'll post more detailed closeups of each in the future, but for now not a bad little painting run (for me, anyway).

--- Parzival, the Wargamesmonger

The Sound of Stone

So I've gotten back into D&D again lately, and as I was looking back at some older stuff of mine, I turned up the following bit of short fiction, by yours truly. I hope you enjoy it!

--- Parzival, The Wargamesmonger

The Sound of Stone 
A Story of the Dwarves

by Howard Shirley

When you can’t hear your own breathing is when you realize you can miss it. I do not mean when you don’t hear your own breathing; that happens all the time. We are so used to it that we dull it out and think of it as silent, just as we don’t really notice the sound our skin makes brushing inside our clothes, or the way leather creaks as it twists against our movement. Thor knows, I’ve even ceased to notice the scrape and dull jangle of my own armor on a long march. I put it on and as far as my ears are concerned, I might as well be wearing spidercloth. Unless of course there’s an enemy nearby with ears that will pick up even the slightest scratch of my axebelt against my hauberk— then every sound I make might as well be the slam of a hammer against hot steel.

I’ve heard men like Brom say that even wrapped in breastplate on top of mail, we dwarves are quieter than cats. I don’t know whether that’s true or not— those Loki-cursed things creep up on you to yank your beard, even when your ears could hear the ring of gold in a clay cup twenty shafts away. No dwarf is that quiet or that sneaky.

Except me, right now. I glance down at the quarrel in my crossbow. It doesn’t look any different from the other bolts stuck in my belt. You’d think it would glow or even gleam, like a dwarf craftspell would. But it doesn’t look one bit different— just black, with only the faintest hint of a glimmer from the sharpened edges I honed yester-morning. The only thing that tells me Thalin’s spell is on the bolt is that I can’t hear anything— not my armor, not my leather, not even my own breathing or the pounding of blood in my temples. Even the vibrations of my feet against the floor are missing, sounds I’ve always felt with my body even if my ears have tuned them out. I can feel the rise and fall of my breath shoving my chest against my hauberk. I can feel the weight of armor and pack, the warmth of the crossbow’s stock against my hand, the tension in the trigger, even the pressure of my booted feet against the stone floor. I can smell my sweat and Brom’s strange human odor, and the hints of incense that drift from Thalin’s robes, even the tiniest tint of blood that lingers on Mada-Thor’s knife blade from this morning’s sacrifice. If I turned my head to look at them, I would see them all, stepping behind me, instinctively trying to be silent themselves, though with the magicked quarrel there is no need. In this shell of silence, I can’t hear them any more than they can hear me, or even their own breathing.

It is a . . . disquieting feeling, which seems an odd word to use given that silence surrounds us utterly. But there it is. And for an old dwarf like me, used to gauging the soundness of stone and shaft by the echoes and creaks no one but my own kind can hear, it begins to approach terrifying. “May you hear no stone,” is an old dwarven curse, a wish for disaster to befall another. Deafness among my people is like a death, for it means one can never travel alone again into the mountain ways, but must be guided as if blind, or spend the remainder of ones long years above our sacred delvings, forever an outcast amidst our kind. It is not a curse said lightly.

Yet here I am, under just such a curse by my own agreement, if however temporary. And the thought comes to my mind, What if Thalin erred? What if the spell lies not upon my quarrel, but upon my hand that held it up? I know that man’s magic is not always permanent without great labor by a mage, but dwarf and magic goes not well together, save for our own craftspells. I once heard of a dwarf who had permitted a human mage to give him wings, and instead his beard turned into feathers. If this magic of silence dwells now forever upon my person, I am cursed beyond all dwarfdom. It had seemed like a clever, even crafty idea at the time Thalin suggested it, but now with not even my own thoughts entering my ears, my fear arises that we may have mined into loose shale, as the saying goes.

Even though the pressure comes through hauberk and jerkin, the hand upon my shoulder makes me jump— I almost pull the trigger on the bow on the spot. I turn to look; it is Mada-Thor who has touched me. The look in her eyes says she understands my discomfort, she who has been my friend since before Brom held his first sword. In the overwhelming silence she can only gesture upwards. I follow her eyes, beholding the black scrawl against the ceiling, a crude sigil of a misshapen skull, cloven in two. The Damned Ones must have stood upon each other’s twisted backs to scribe it there. I am ashamed that I, a dwarf within my native realm of stone, did not see the khohbhauluth sign first— but then, Mada-Thor is guided by a god. I see Brom and Thalin turn their eyes upwards as well, and Brom mouth out the man-word “Kobold!” though not even he can hear his exclamation. Just as well— I hate hearing our sacred tongue corrupted in another’s mouth, and his cry might have alerted our quarry. For once I bless Thalin’s ploy— in one respect, it is serving us now. Brom starts at not hearing his own words, then I can see it break upon him that his outburst would have proved dangerous. He throws his head back in mirth and slaps Thalin upon his back. The mage startles at the blow, then his mouth splits into a sly grin. I like a mage with a sense of humor about themselves— all too many laugh only at the discomfort they can cause to others.

Brom shares Thalin’s grin and nods to me to advance. I’ll say this for the man, he may not be as cautious as need be, but he doesn’t swagger forth into the lead like those fools who think their bulk is proof against all comers. Brom has an inkling for tactics and a respect for where others’ abilities may be more useful than his own. In my case, I’m familiar with the nature of these passages. And I’m the best shot in the Twin Kingdoms, Above and Below, if I say so myself— even in silence.

I glance at Thalin. He needs no explanation, and waves his hand in an odd caress across the rough-hewn crystal atop his staff. The glow from it fades to a dull glimmer. My eyes adapt quickly to my native dark; yet I worry that perhaps even those faint beams may be too much and reach the khohbhauluth with warning. But no, even the sigil cannot be seen. I turn back to my companions. Brom has his sword out now, fine make for man-work, held cautiously wide to avoid the rest of us. Mada has her hammer ready, mouthing silent blessings over it— I wonder if Thor can sense her prayer, devoid of sound? I think one of my own for that, not much considering the irony. Thalin merely places one hand on Mada’s shoulder for guidance, she does the same for Brom, who moves forward and places his free hand on mine. We move off, the deaf leading the blind through halls of stone— how my clan folk would shudder at the thought!

The way is windy and slopes downwards. My eyes and feet pick out signs of loose rock, the faintest pebbles, and my fear rises at not being able to hear the faint shift of stone that warns every dwarf of a coming cave-in. This movement with half my awareness lost is almost beyond bearing.

I feel the faint change in the air current on the edges of my beard before I see the light. It is not the strange whiteness of Thalin’s staff, nor the warm yellow of dwarven fire— it is orange and sputtery, barely giving glow where it licks against the stone far ahead. But the air moves towards it, drawn towards some thin shaft that must serve as a flue. The kobolds are burning bhakhumen. It gives poor heat and poorer light, but for Those Who Chose The Blackness it is the light of ritual. It is the light by which they take blood.
The odor reaches my nose now, despite that the air moves away from me. Instinctively my voice tries to growl in disgust, but I feel only the rough movement in my throat. I tap Brom’s hand on my shoulder quickly, to tell him we are there, then move my hand back to the trigger.

We step forward slowly, only because the others cannot see to move faster. The dull glow from the bhakhumen fire grows more, and I can see that it comes from a side chamber along our way. Strange shadows move across the glow where it hits the wall opposite the chamber— the kobolds have begun their rite. My beard prickles at the thought we may have come too late.

I race forward, crossbow at the ready, no longer concerned for my companions— even their Above eyes can see the light from the chamber. Stepping into the opening, I see the scene. A score of khohbauluth are dancing before a crude altar of jumbled stone. My sister Kima is stretched across it, her chest bared below her beard, her garments ripped and stained with blood— not hers, I know— the kohbauluth send their sacrifices on unsullied. Her eyes stare upwards at the jagged obsidian blade held aloft over her breasts. She does not blink or show tears— she is a dwarf. All this I see in the instant, just as I see the khohbaulutavak, the priestess who holds the blade.

I shoot, the bolt racing across the room, and suddenly a cacophony bursts upon my straining ears— Brom in mid war cry, Mada calling upon her god, the kobolds’ chanting, the latter suddenly growing less as the bolt appears in the priestess’s shoulder. She lurches back, the knife falling from her hand to shatter silently against the floor. I drop the bow and reach for my axe. The foul creature recovers and reaches up to clasp her wound, her mouth moving to call upon her demon magic for healing— and then her eyes flair wide when she realizes her dark spell makes no sound. She grabs desperately at the bolt, but the flared head is stuck fast in both mail and flesh.

I grin, letting her see the teeth behind my beard. “May you hear no stone,” I growl, and rush to battle, my axe singing gloriously to my ears.

Saxon Violence! And Viking Violence, Too! (878 • Vikings: Invasion of England-- a review)

In the height of the Dark Ages, the bulk of the island of Britain had pretty much become the domain of the Anglo-Saxons, and was divided into multiple smaller kingdoms with names like Wessex, Mercia, Cumbria, and more. And while the region itself was known as “England,” there was no one English nation, and no one English king. Despite this political disunity, the Saxons were enjoying a time of relative prosperity and peace— and then the Vikings came. Racing across the North Sea in their dragon-headed longships, Scandinavian raiders launched a series of bloody invasions, bent largely on plunder. For over two hundred years, they preyed upon the coast (at first) and then surged into the mainland (not unlike the Saxons themselves had done to the hapless Britons some three centuries before). Eventually these Scandinavian intruders set up their own kingdoms, or forced nominal Saxon kings to be puppet rulers for their new Danish masters. Despite being essentially out-numbered by the locals, the Vikings were able to run wild because the Saxon kingdoms largely fought them piece-meal, and frequently failed to team-up to stand against the hordes. Finally, a lone Saxon king, Alfred of Wessex, rose up against the “Danes” (as the Saxons called them), and defeated their greatest army in a grand battle. Using this victory, Alfred was able to force the Treaty of Wedmore upon the interlopers— and thereby created the Kingdom of England.

878•Vikings: Invasion of England from Academy Games seeks to recreate the strategic situation of the times, when sizable Viking armies landed on the coast of England and raided, plundered, and eventually settled the countryside, while being resisted by the scattered Saxon leaders. “878” is not a reference to the number of Vikings invading England, but the year in which the Anglo Saxon Chronicles record the raids beginning— 878 A.D.. Personally, I think the title may be the most uninspiring case of board game naming I’ve encountered. But despite this, the game itself is quite the opposite— challenging, engaging, and most of all a lot of fun.

Don't mind Sven. He's just a friendly sailor looking for loot.

IT’S TRUE- ENGLAND IS A LAND OF TREASURE— OR AT LEAST NIFTY STUFF

Speaking of loot! This hoard includes a horde!

There’s a lot in the box:

A nicely sized (but not too large) game board featuring a map of 9th Century England.

Six full color card decks

21 Blue plastic miniatures of armored Saxon warriors (representing the “Huscarl” or “Housecarl” faction)

41 Green plastic miniatures miniatures of armored Saxon warriors with spears (representing “Thegn” faction)

10 Yellow plastic miniatures of Saxon peasants with spears (representing the “Fyrd,” or local levies, which are not a faction)

43 Black plastic miniatures of armored Viking warriors (representing the “Norsemen” faction)

21 Red plastic miniatures of unarmored Viking warriors with axes (representing the “Berserker” faction)

A single wood pawn as a “round” marker (basically the game clock).

15 thick cardboard “Viking Victory” tokens

6 thick cardboard Leader markers (mostly Vikings, but there is one of King Alfred the Great as well)

6 clear plastic stands to hold the Leader markers as standup pieces.

5 sets of different colored dice: Black (3), Red (2), Blue (2), Green (3), and Yellow (2)

4 colored cubes (basically dice without any markings): Black, Red, Blue and Green

A black cloth drawstring bag

As my set was from a Kickstarter set (purchased second-hand, yet still unplayed and unpunched), I also had four thick cardboard card holders, six “Saxon Navy” tokens, and several “Leader Movement” tokens (which we didn’t figure out what to do with), not to mention an expansion set with more rules and cards, Leader miniatures, and miniature Saxon churches, Viking forts and Viking settlements. Since these are not elements of the standard board game, I will hold off on reviewing these until we’ve had a chance to try them out.

VIKINGS, SIRE! THOUSANDS OF ‘EM!

Put on the Led Zeppelin track... "A-A-A-AAAA!"

The game can be played by either two players, or by four players divided into opposing alliances. My gaming buddy Will and I gathered for an initial run through with the two-player version, but we agreed at the end that the game felt more like a four-player game, even with the fact that there are only two “sides” in the game.

The two sides to the game are the Saxons, who inhabit England, and the Vikings, who want to raid, plunder, and maybe inhabit England too. These sides are further divided into two “factions”each — for the Saxons, the Huscarls (the elite forces of the various kings, also called “Housecarls” in the game) and the Thegns (the forces of more localized rulers). For the Vikings, the factions are the Norsemen (“ordinary” viking warriors) and Berserkers (blood-thirsty fanatics with a death wish).

All factions essentially play the same and can even temporarily control forces of the other allied faction, but each have their own deck of command cards, and each have different combat probabilities based on their unique dice.

The object of the game is fairly straightforward: The Vikings seek to capture as many Saxon city territories as possible, tracking these conquests using the Viking Victory Track at the bottom of the map. The Saxons seek to stop the Vikings, at the very least by limiting the number of cities the Vikings capture, or if possible, eliminating all the Vikings from England. The game also includes four special “Treaty of Wedmore” cards, one for each faction; if at least two of these cards have been played, the treaty takes effect, the game ends and the victory conditions are checked.

The game starts with the two Saxon factions’ forces spread about the board in groups of 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 figures of mixed color (Green and/or Blue). The Viking player will move first (though the movement order will change), and begins with a large force of Norsemen and Berserkers on a Leader card, which immediately “lands” on a coastal territory of his choice (early in the game, this can only be on the North Sea— later it can be any sea). Looking at this force, it will seem enormous— well over two dozen or more figures landing and moving from a single territory. (Recall those Saxon groupings of at most five figures? They’re doomed.) Viking invasion, indeed! Yikes!

ROUND AND ROUND WE GO

Round marker, King Alfred waiting to arrive, turn order cubes, and "fled" units waiting as reserves. Plus a Beserker faction movement card over to the side.

The game is played in 7 “rounds” (though it can end sooner) consisting of 4 “turns” each. All factions have one turn per round, but the order of these turns is random, determined by a blind draw from the velvet bag containing the four colored cubes. Whichever color is drawn indicates the faction who has the current turn. That faction completes its actions, and a new cube is drawn. Once all four cubes have been drawn and the factions have acted, the game advances to the next round and the cubes are returned to the bag.

The rounds are tracked, because on the 5th round, Alfred the Great enters the fight as a Saxon leader, and the possibility of an end to the game goes up. (It’s also possible for the game to end earlier, but not likely.)

When the first Viking faction is drawn in a round, that faction draws a Viking Leader card, which triggers an invasion. (This is in addition to any invasion already going on from the previous round.) On that card are placed an entirely new army of Vikings of mixed factions. For the Saxon player, this is a case of “They. Just. Keep. Coming!”

MOVE ‘EM OUT! OR WHATEVER THEY YELLED IN OLD ENGLISH!

The thrust of a turn is simple: The faction player choose one Movement command card from a hand of three potential commands and plays it. (If he doesn’t have a Movement card in his hand, he must discard the hand and draw three new cards, continuing to discard and draw in this manner until he has at least one Movement card in his hand— which might also be a Treaty card). When the card has been played, the player then carries out the movement the card allows. For example, a Movement card may state that the faction my move 2 armies 4 spaces each. An “army” is any collection of any number of allied pieces which are all in the same territory, or on a Leader’s card— but the army must include at least one figure of the active faction’s color in order to be moved. For example, if it is the Thegn (Green) player’s turn, this card would allow him to move any two armies containing at least one green piece, each army moving up to four adjacent territories. If an army enters a territory occupied by an enemy, the moving army must stop, and combat will occur. 

Leaders with armies have the ability to continue moving their specific army if they eliminate the enemy forces in one roll of the dice.

Other cards may be played as well that offer other effects to either aid the card’s faction or hamper the enemy. These cards can sometimes be played out of turn. It should also be noted that the Treaty cards are also Movement cards, which means that if a faction’s only Movement card on a turn is a Treaty card, it must be played, even if the player would rather not do so.

KILL, RETREAT, OR FLEE

Once a player has moved all his forces, if any share a territory with an enemy, these must engage in battle. Each force has dice that match the force’s color, and only the dice which match a force’s color will be rolled. The number of dice also may not exceed the number of matching figures in the battle. The dice are rolled simultaneously for all forces in the battle. Results are straightforward: Each roll result of swords (or axes for Viking dice) is a hit against the enemy, removing a figure for each hit. Results of a running man means that a matching colored figure is forced to flee (being placed in a “Fled” space on the map). Each horn rolled indicates that a matching colored figure may instead withdraw to an adjacent territory containing only friendly forces. A blank result means no effect occurs. All dice results of a roll are applied immediately for both sides. If neither side is eliminated (whether due to hits, withdrawals or flight), the dice are rolled again, repeating until only one side has forces remaining in the territory. Player should pay attention to the number of symbols on each die, as different factions and forces are better at combat than others (for example, Berserkers never flee!).

Once all movement and any combat is completed, the active faction draws cards to restore its hand to three, and that faction’s turn ends.

WE NEED A FEW GOOD PLASTIC MEN

Reinforcements are indeed a part of the game. The Saxon factions can potentially gain new forces on their respective turns, provided forces are available in their reserves. These are placed according to symbols on the map, and are restricted to one or two figures being added to any given city. However, the Saxon player may also regain any Fled figures, placing these in other available locations as chosen by the player. The Viking factions only gain forces through the function of drawing a Leader card, or restoring Fled units to coastal regions controlled by other Viking figures.

EVEN THE YELLOW-BELLIED ONES

The Saxon player also has the (dubious) advantage of raising the Fyrd, which represent the peasant farmers of the day taking up arms when their lands are threatened. If a Viking force attacks a Saxon army on a city territory, the Saxon player draws a card from a special Fyrd deck, and places the indicated number of yellow Fyrd figures in the territory. The Fyrd cannot be ordered to move, and exist only to aid in battle, for which they are ill equipped (they are more likely to flee than fight, or even do nothing at all). They’re not great troops, but they can take hits— preserving the better Huscarls and Thegns— and occasionally even manage to strike an enemy.

Thegn faction cards, attack dice and men. If you're the Saxon player, you'll want more of these. But there aren't any...

SIMPLE PLAY, COMPLEX STRATEGY

And that’s about it for the rules. There are a few special conditions here and there, and the unique faction cards can throw in twists, but there’s little more to it. Though the game at first glance looks complex, it’s actually quite easy to grasp— if you can play Risk, you can definitely play this. However, the strategy is far richer and deeper than one might expect. The alternating flow of faction turns, with uncertainty as to who moves when, calls for careful planning. It may seem to be better to be first in a round, but if you’re not careful, all your gains can be wiped out by the last faction to take its turn!

YOU LOOK GOOD IN HORNS, WILL

The Great Heathen Host (says so, right on the card). The Viking side starts with this... and keeps adding more.

It didn’t take too long for Will and I to leap into the game. He opted for the Viking invaders, and on his first turn I was wondering about the viability of my Saxon forces— there were a boatload of Vikings on his Leader card, and I couldn’t see how my puny, scattered troops could stand up to the onslaught of The Great Heathen Host (as the Saxon chroniclers dubbed the Viking invaders).

But that’s where the movement restrictions come in; the Viking faction has a lot of men, but they’re not going far at first. As he divides them up to attack the city territories which he must have to win, the Host begins to dwindle— and if he’s gone inland, he’s not getting reinforcements quickly. Meanwhile, the Saxons are often in a good distance to converge on the Vikings, while gaining inland reinforcements on each faction’s turn.

Pretty soon we were knocking each other back and forth across the map, and I was feeling good about my position. Will was gaining cities, but I kept hitting him back below his necessary victory number (9), while I managed to get out an early Treaty card.

Alas, my second needed Treaty card just refused to turn up. And Will started claiming my important reinforcement locations, reducing the forces I could bring to bear. But even up to the 7th round, I thought I had him beat. I had lost Alfred the Great, but I had pummeled Will down to 6 Victory cities claimed, out of a necessary 9. And that’s when I discovered I had failed to consider the chance that one of Will’s Viking factions would move last. Yet another horde descended upon my hapless defenders, and whack, whack, whack, he reconquered the cities he needed and claimed the crown. Alas, despite all advantages and positive omens (I mean, “Howard” is a good Anglo-Saxon name— “Heoward,” for “Royal Guardian”— I should win this fight, right?), my defense proved less than great.

HOY, SVEN— WANNA INVADE ENGLAND AGAIN?

The answer to that question is a hearty “Yes!” 878•Vikings: Invasions of England proved to be one of the best light wargames I have added to my collection. The look is gorgeous and thematically perfect (I especially love the Old English names on the map), and the components are of solid quality, and spot on in appearance. But even better, the rules are simple without being simplistic— players aren’t bogged down in complexity, though the game still feels like the historical situation it intends to represent, and the strategic challenges are rich and varied. “Elegant” truly is the operative word here. Plus, the game is just plain fun. Our conflict was a thing of constant triumphs and reversals, with just enough luck introduced by the dice and cards, yet never the feeling that we were at the whims of fortune. And the faction structure is well done— though we only tried the two-player approach, it was clear that an allied game would have enough independent action and decision making that no one would wind up feeling like a second fiddle. I expect that we will be returning to this game again and again— rather like the Vikings eyeing England across the North Sea.

— Parzival, the Wargamesmonger.

I Resolve To Conquer Europe (well, on a tabletop).

Happy New Year, or, I Resolve to Conquer Europe

Welcome to a New Year and the return of my blog! To kick off 2020 A.D., a few gaming buddies and I decided to go back a thousand years or so to those giddy, happy days of 1020 A.D. (or thereabouts) and do what everybody did back then to celebrate the turning of the year— conquer their neighbors! (Hey, when you don’t have fireworks, you gotta find another way to make some noise.)

Our game of choice this evening: Risk: Europe.

Ooo! Flaming catapults! (Actual fire not included.)

This game entered my collection a couple of years ago, but this was the first time it made it to our tabletop. I had only ever read the rules, so none of us had any experience with the game. This evening would be a baptism in fire for everyone!

Europe On One Silver Coin a Day

Medieval Europe, or a Reasonable Facsimile Thereof 

 

It’s time for a lightning tour of Europe. As you can see, the map lists various medieval kingdoms and fiefdoms, as well as the standard dashed-line “sea lanes.” New to Risk gamers will be the cities (indicated by a white circle with a crown) and capitals (white circle with shiny gold border and gold crown). Each city also shows a number, ranging from 2 to 4. You will note there are no “continents”, nor the classic “continent bonus” chart. Instead there is a chart showing various numbers of crowns, and Roman numerals ranging from V to VII, then in red VIII to X. Curious, indeed!

The armies of Europe. Plus crowns.

Also included are a number of plastic gold crowns (equal to the number of cities), a silver plastic First Player token, some gray plastic castles, cardboard silver and gold coins, several cardboard shields bearing the name of each of the capitals and some special text, a deck of cards, and a lot of dice— more than your typical Risk game. But what stands out are the inhabitants of this medieval world— rather than the typical Risk game where all the forces are identical figures, these differ not only in color, but with designs unique to each color. The figures represent a (somewhat fanciful) military force from the Middle Ages, divided into Footmen, Archers, Cavalry, and Siege Engines.

As may be evident, Risk: Europe is a considerable departure from the Risk franchise. Although conquest is indeed part of the game, commanding the entire map isn’t the goal, nor is it even likely. Everything from units to turn decisions to combat are substantially changed from anything Risk players are used to—which of course alters strategies in radical ways.

Siege Engine awesomeness, from left to right: The mighty catapult, the powerful sling trebuchet, the deadly spear-throwing ballista, and... three guys with a log.

It’s All About the Crowns, Baby

The goal of Risk: Europe isn’t to conquer the world— it’s to acquire crowns. The first player to collect seven crowns and hold them at the end of a round (more on that in a moment) wins the game. You collect crowns by conquering cities and capitals, but you may also purchase the crowns (in the basic game), or achieve crowns by completing secret “Kingdom Missions” (in the advanced game). So the objectives to your goal are two-fold— claim cities and/or amass coins to purchase crowns. But there’s more to it than that.

The Medieval Round

The game is divided into rounds, during which each player issues two orders (and only two orders). Each player will issue one order, one at a time, going around the table. Doing this twice around the table is a round. At the end of the round if any battles are possible, these are resolved. At that point if a player holds 7 or more crowns, the game is over.

Your Orders, My Liege?

The orders are not a simple set of options as in standard Risk; you do not simply place forces and decide where and when to attack. Instead, each player has a deck of 8 cards with specific orders written on each card. The orders on the cards are divided into two choices. For example, a card may read “Tax” on the top half and “Spend” on the bottom. When the card is played, the player may choose to do only one of these orders— either tax his cities to collect coins, or spend his coins for troops, castles, or crowns; he cannot do both. Some of the cards also contain special actions that occur no matter which choice is made. Each round begins with all of the players secretly selecting two order cards to use and placing these on the table face down. The top card will contain a player’s first order of the round, the bottom card the second. Once the cards are played and the order chosen, the cards are discarded, leaving the player with two fewer cards to choose from, and so on. Once all cards are discarded (equaling four rounds), the players begin again with their full decks.

The cards control troop movements, and limit them as well. At most a player will only ever be in a position to attack four territories in a single round, and that only if they play two specific cards back to back (and there are only two of these cards in each deck).  Also, since two cards (and thus two orders) will be played by every player before any battles are resolved, it’s possible that a player could reinforce his army in a disputed territory before the battle happens. Keeping track of which cards your opponents have played is an important strategic element in the game!

As a result of these cards, a player will be forced to decide if and when he will collect coins, if and when he will buy forces (and which ones), and if and when he will advance against the enemy or reinforce threatened territories— you may end up able to do any two of these in a round, but never all of them, and as cards are used, some actions will no longer be available until the decks reset.

First Rank...Volley!

Combat takes a distinct change from Risk in that the actual unit types matter— they aren’t stand-ins for amounts, but behave as the troop types they actually are, to a limited degree. (This is somewhat similar to the classic MB/Eagle Games Conquest of the Empire.) In Risk: Europe combat is broken down into four “Ranks,” which occur in order. First, Siege Engines get an attack, forcing the opponent to remove troops for all hits rolled (for a Siege Engine, any result of 3 or better on each die rolled). Then Archers attack, followed by Cavalry. A player may only use such troops as are in the specific battle— for example, if Green has no Archers in the battle, he does nothing during the Archer Rank action, except potentially lose troops. Once all three of these attacks occur, all of the forces (including those which just attacked) are counted up, and a final general attack is rolled using the same dice rules as standard Risk (in this instance all of the units participate, even if they attacked as part of a previous Rank). Then the Ranks begin again, the entire procedure continuing until one side or the other (or even possibly both) are eliminated from the territory— that’s right there are no retreats in Risk: Europe! It’s do or die for your troops!

Castles allow for the defender in the territory to re-roll any and all Rank results— but the defender must re-roll all the dice, including successful hits, and replace these with the second roll results, even if worse. (So if you have one hit and two misses, do you re-roll all three in hopes of getting more hits, at the risk of having none, or keep your single hit?)

Not-Risk Risk

You will note that unlike standard Risk:

• There are no territory cards. None at all.
• The game will not begin with all territories occupied. In fact, most territories will likely never be occupied in the game.
• There are no bonus continent/region reinforcements, or per territory reinforcements. In fact, the number of territories controlled is irrelevant to the number of troops in play. Only cities and capitals matter, as they can be taxed for coins.
• An entire round can go by with no one attacking anyone, but expansion and maneuvering still occurring.
• Engaging in battle is deadly. You either win, or you lose all your men in the battle— that’s right, all of them. No retreat, no surrender, and no quarter!

In Which Our Heroes Play Game 1, or, Whoa, That Was Fast

My Opposition: Caleb, Christian, and Mr. Blurry.

So, after one round, no combat, but...

Money to spend = Money to win

After a quick overview of the rules, we stuck right in. Each of us collected our forces, picked widely separated capitals, and went at it. Only, we never actually went at it. Instead, we slowly and cautiously advanced into unclaimed territories, adding forces and collecting coins. After two rounds, Caleb noticed what I had not— that I was destined to win. All I needed to do was buy two crowns. No one was adjacent to my crown territories, and therefore could not claim them from me. And though that had not been my plan, my second card in that round was indeed a Spend order. I bought the crowns, gaining seven, and the game ended with no combat of any sort having happened!

Once More, With Feeling, or, The Long(ish) Game

Once more into the breach!

Actual combat! Hooray!

Wiser now to these strategic quirks, we quickly regathered our forces from the board and began another game. This time around there was considerable combat, plus some wheeling and dealing— no matter the variations, Risk will always have that! Will and I started off slapping each other around in the east (though I suffered the brunt of that), while Caleb advanced in Spain and France, and even claiming Rome (which is worth two crowns). Christian amassed forces in Britain, surging into a land campaign across the channel which brought him Zurich. Desperate to recover from my losses in the east, I proposed a truce with Will, encouraging him to assault Caleb’s purple Saracens in Rome while I sent a massive force into Madrid. This was a mistake. I failed to realize that Will’s capture of Rome would throw the victory to him. I did notice that Christian bordered Will’s weakly defended hold on Berlin, and assumed Christian would see this and attack there as well. But I failed to voice this, not wanting to alert Will to the danger. Alas, there was no danger— Christian was content to sit on Zurich. Will seized the Papal fiefdom and claimed the crowns of Rome— and with them, victory. All hail William the First, Holy Roman Emperor! 

Hail Good King Will!

Worth the Coin?

While we did have fun, our two plays ended with the jury undecided. Overall we enjoyed the game, but none of us really had a good feel for how it would play out over the long haul. Our play went very slowly, taking more time than was truly necessary to resolved each round. But I believe that had more to do with our unfamiliarity with the rules. We just weren’t quite certain how to proceed, which left a lot of musing over card and order choice. I suspect as we grow more confident in our understanding of how the game works, the play will be quicker and more dramatic. It’s clear that this is a game where the fun comes when you take risks worthy of the game’s name. However, it allows for play that is cautious and even non-combative, which can be a dull way to go about things. Still, we’re all willing to give it another go, and that’s a good sign.

Final assessment: An interesting— if not entirely Risk-like— variation on Risk. The thematic flavor is spot on and the components are largely well done (the cardboard coins are a bit boring, but the figures and their variety make up for that). The combat system may be my favorite element— having the troops act as what they represent is an enjoyable twist on the classic Risk approach to battles, and “feels right” in a medieval setting. I also thought that the limited maneuver and expansion choices fit the history of warfare in the Middle Ages, as did the brutal battle results!

Although the game claims to be for 2 to 4 players, with 4 players we still found it a little too easy to avoid conflict (as evidenced in Game 1). There are rule adjustments for fewer players (one neutral force becomes “mercenaries”), but I think the full 4 -player complement is probably the best bet for an enjoyable game, provided players lean a little more toward aggressive action than combat avoidance.

Overall, this hasn’t leaped to the top of my favored Risk variants. However, that reaction may be more because in so many ways this game is really not Risk, but something different. I do look forward to seeing how that difference plays out as it hits the tabletop again.

Until my next entry, Happy New Year, and Happy Gaming!

Parzival, the Wargamesmonger