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.

Space: The Frantic Frontier

Captain's Log, Stardate 18019.8

"The USS Enterprise has just received word from Star Fleet Command of a... dangerous alliance... between the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, and the Tholian Republic;  an alliance that appears to be centered on our destruction. I am certain that my able crew and I can fend off... any... combined attack. We'd better, because they've just... begun."

Cue theme music in your head.

Space: The final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her five year mission— to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before...And apparently to survive an unending assault of anything the galaxy can throw at her.

Logo: STAR TREK Panic

Starring Chase as Captain James T. Kirk 

(Swoosh!)

And David as Commander Montgomery Scott 

(Swoosh!)

Also starring Michael as Dr. James "Bones" McCoy 

(Swoosh!)

With Yours Truly as Lieutenant Uhura (

Swoosh!)

End theme music.

The Frantic Frontier

You have to love a blog post with a good theme; so too for a game. My gaming group recently gathered to try a recent board game acquisition of mine: STAR TREK Panic By USAopoly & Fireside Games.

Based on the board game Castle Panic, Star Trek Panic is a cooperative "tower defense" game, with the tower in question being the beloved USS Enterprise, NCC1701, "no bloody A, B, C, D, or E." (This is strictly an Original Series game.) The players take on the roles of the bridge crew of the Enterprise, working together to complete their five year mission and survive the continual onslaught of the enemies of the Federation.

The crew is ready...or are we?

Play summary:

The Enterprise dominates the board as a very nicely done 3D cardboard model. The board is a starfield covered by three concentric circles divided into 6 equal sectors like slices of a pie. The model of the Enterprise is placed in the center of the circles, and remains there throughout the game. The circles represent ranges from the Enterprise (short,  medium, long) which determine whether or not her weapons can hit approaching targets. The game begins with three "threat tokens" representing enemy vessels (Klingon, Romulan or Tholian), which gradually approach the Enterprise, firing weapons to  remove her shields and destroy the ship's hull. The shields are represented by blue translucent plastic walls stuck around the model, one wall per sector. Hits to a shield either damage it (an electric explosion marker is placed on the shield), or, if the shield is already damaged, remove it. If the shield is gone in a sector, damage is done instead to the ship's hull in that sector. (More on this below).

Though the game is divided into player turns, the game is entirely cooperative: the players are working together as a team, and can freely discuss tactics, card usage, trades, etc. that will help them all achieve victory. So one player's turn still involves all the other players, and the game is won or lost by everybody, not any one person.

It's Captain Kirk! Or maybe it's the Mirror Universe version of him, because we all know beards are EVIL!

Red Alert! Battle Stations! Red Alert!

The game is divided into one turn per player. Each player will take actions to protect the Enterprise and advance the mission (see below), working and discussing what to do with the other members of the crew.

The players each have a hand of cards drawn from a shared Enterprise Deck. These cards represent what each player may do on his or her turn, and a player may use some or all of his cards on a single turn (if possible; depends on the card), or save these for later turns, or potentially trade one card with another player. The cards include phaser and torpedo attacks, but these attacks are typically restricted to specific ranges and/or sectors, meaning that the player may only shoot at targets within the card's depicted range and sector. Other cards grant special abilities or effects, ranging from drawing more cards, searching through the discard pile for specific cards to reuse, removing a specific threat, or other helpful actions, including repairing or rebuilding either shields or the hull.

"All hands! Brace for impact!"

Once a player has played all the cards he can or will play, the threats (enemies) remaining on the board advance towards the Enterprise and shoot her, automatically damaging her shield or hull in each threat's specific sector. Worse, if the shield and hull in a given sector are both destroyed, any hit removes a card from the undrawn Enterprise Deck, meaning that card will not be available to the crew for the rest of the game! When all the enemies have moved an attacked, the player draws two new threat tokens and rolls a die to see which sector each token is placed in (all tokens begin at long range). The result is that there are constantly new enemies arriving to attack the Enterprise, with very rare moments of any respite.

A Great Crew Knows Its Duty

Fortunately, the players do have other options to help them out. First, each player has selected a member of the crew to represent during the game. I drew the lovely and capable Lt. Uhura, who as Communications Officer has the special ability of drawing extra cards at the start of her turn. Scotty (played in our game by David) as Chief Engineer can repair damaged shields or hull sections— you do NOT want to go to space without Scotty! There are seven characters to choose from, all quite powerful in their advantages: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu and Chekov. Since the game has a 6 player maximum, this allows for different interesting mixes of crew, especially for games with fewer players.

You know it's Scotty because he's wearing plaid

"Steady As She Goes, Mr. Sulu."

In addition to special abilities, each player may "maneuver"  the Enterprise on his or her turn. This is an exceptionally clever mechanic, involving simply rotating the Enterprise model one sector, either clockwise or counter clockwise. As a result, an exposed hull space might be rotated away from an approaching attacker, interposing a protective shield instead. Or the ship might be rotated so that a player's phaser card now covers a threat's location, allowing that enemy to be damaged or destroyed. The Enterprise may also "move forward," which simply means that all objects in the two sectors facing the ship are advanced one space towards the ship (all other objects remain where they are).

I'm a doctor, not a starship pilot!

"Incoming Subspace Transmission from Starfleet Command, Captain."

Lastly, the game has a built in variable "game clock" in the form of Mission Cards. A Mission Card is a list of actions and/or cards that the crew must complete or play within a specified number of player turns. Each Mission may have specific restrictions on the players that make the mission more challenging, and almost always call for certain cards to be "committed" to the mission— a "committed" card cannot be played for its normal effect, but only serves to fulfill the requirements of the mission. Cards are categorized as Command, Science, Engineering, Medical, and Security cards (some cards have no designation). These categories are used to determine which cards a Mission may require, resulting in a trade-off of tactical thinking: Do you use that Dilithium card to repair a shield, or commit it to the current mission? "What's your answer, Mr. Chekov?" 

If a mission is completed, the crew immediately gain rewards (such as much-needed ship repairs). If a mission is failed or not completed in the time allowed, no reward is earned and a new Mission Card is drawn. Once five missions are completed successfully, the crew simply has to eliminate the remaining threats in the Threat Bag and the game is over.

The role I was born to play! "Hailing frequencies open, Captain."

Our Play:

We opted for random drawing of the character cards, with the results already mentioned. We placed the starting threats on the board, and jumped right in. I've played the game solo a few times (this works well, though tracking multiple crew can be confusing), so I had some grasp of the mechanics. Though a few of us only had a general familiarity with the classic series, we were soon mimicking accents, throwing out show quotes, and attempting Vulcan salutes throughout. We quickly discovered that the game is aptly named. Those Klingons, Romulans and Tholians Just. Keep. Coming. After a few turns, and especially during crippling Missions like "Charlie X" and "The Deadly Years," even a Vulcan could be forgiven for freaking out over all the damage being done to the poor Enterprise. "Panic" indeed. But we rose to the occasion, trading cards and plotting maneuvers and attacks like the best graduates of Starfleet Academy. We blew a few missions (the nearly impossible "Charlie X" being one of them), but persevered. When we gained our hard fought victory, Scotty may have been a bit teary-eyed over the state of his beloved beauty, but it wasn't anything a wee stay in space dock wouldn't set right. And we all agreed the game was a blast to play.

Star Trek gang sign!

Summary:

This game oozes theme like a Denobian Slime Devil. The Enterprise model is terrific, and the Panic mechanic is perfectly suited to the concept of a starship crew working together to defend a ship under attack. Although I've never played the original Castle Panic, from what I know of it I think the Star Trek theme may be more suited to the system than the original concept. The Mission Cards are a creative addition as well, and the ones we drew captured the feel of the episodes on which each is based. The question of whether to assign cards to the mission or use them against the threats really upped the ante, creating strategic and tactical decisions that were both challenging and fun. The rules are well written and quite clear, though at times we did have difficulty finding the right section to answer questions that came up in play. But for the most part, we only ever had to refer to the handy reference cards included in the Character Deck, or to the threat guides which are printed on the board itself. Familiarity with the game would probably remove any need to look up rules at all.

For theme, playability, presentation and fun, I'm giving STAR TREK Panic five Vulcan salutes:

\V/_ \V/_ \V/_ \V/_ \V/_

Play long, and prosper!

Across a Blasted Plain

It's the end of another year, and things have been a little wild. So as far as game blogging goes, I haven't been able to give much time to it. I had intentions of doing so; oh, such great intentions! But, alas, intention and action are two very different things.

But no more! Today intention and action combine! Hooray! Huzzah! Whoopie! And other exclamations of Joy and Enthusiasm!

Joy and Enthusiasm. Plus, I'm a wizard.

And on to today's blog, already titled (as you saw above)...

Across a Blasted Plain

It is the not-too-distant future. The world has changed, both physically and politically, and not for the better. War rages across the continents, headed by the two last vestiges of the once great nation states: The North American Combine and the Paneuropean Union. Who is good and who is bad is difficult to define. Suffice it to say that the sides are at war, and it is hell. And the devil that rules this hell bears neither horns nor pitchfork, though fire is certainly its plaything. For this ruler is more than devil; it is an OGRE!

Okay, there's my nicely evocative intro for my latest nostalgic obsession: the classic micro-game, Ogre. For those who weren't gaming all there was to game in 1980-ish, Ogre is a game of futuristic armored combat set in the (uncomfortably close) year 2085 (sorry, kiddos, not my future in all probability, but a year you might indeed see). In the original game (sold for $2.95 in a plastic baggie), one player commands a force of heavily armored tanks, missile tanks, howitzers, armored ground-effect-vehicles,  and powered-armor equipped infantry. The other player gets one tank—an Ogre. It is a decidedly unfair game... for the player who doesn't have the Ogre. For the Ogre is an enormous robot tank bristling with weapons of all kinds (including tactical nuclear missiles) and armor so thick the other force has little hope of penetrating it. Once the Ogre starts moving towards its objective, it is almost impossible to stop. But trying to figure out what forces are best to use and how to best use them is the fun (and challenge) of the game! (For the Ogre player, the fun comes in crushing the puny forces sent to stop it. You can almost hear the evil, mechanical MUA-HA-HA-HA in your head as your Ogre roll onwards towards your targets...)

The original cover. I'd tell that guy to run, but it's too late at this point.

Decades back Steve Jackson Games released metal miniatures for the game, including a large glossy paper hex map for the game. It was a great product, but a paper mat (however gorgeous) just doesn't quite work with realistically scaled three-dimensional miniatures. I bought these miniatures years ago, and painted them up, but they've been sitting in their boxes for quite awhile now, largely because actually buying enough metal miniatures to replicate the possible forces in Ogre (and its sister game, G.E.V.) was prohibitively expensive. (I lucked out and got my sets at half-price, before they became a hot nostalgia commodity. Don't believe me? Look on eBay!) At the time I, and many others, cried out for Steve Jackson Games to sell these figures in plastic, assuming that would be cheaper. (It probably actually wasn't back then, but we assumed it was anyway.)

The metal miniatures set box cover. I also have the GEV set. Envy me.

Well, Steve Jackson Games has finally done just that. Last year and this year I hopped onto a Kickstarter for plastic miniatures for Ogre— miniatures in the same scale and style (in fact, identical) to the metal figures I already had.

My first set arrived last month (I'll blog about them later). And with them they brought the full-on Ogre bug... that I wanted something bigger and more impressive than the original paper battle mat.

So I started looking around at makers of battle mats. Though these mats are often gorgeous, they are also expensive; too expensive for me. I then toyed with the idea of making my own, but honestly, as a DYI-er, I'm more of a dreamer than a fabricator. The thought of spray painting cloth to produce the look of an atomically-blasted desert plain was simply too daunting. Maybe if I could just find a piece of cloth that already had the look I wanted?  Cue Google search!

Now, tracking down a vaguely described visual appearance for cloth just really isn't what Google is good at (sorry, Google). It seems that cloth makers don't describe their wares as "nuclear-devastation brown," or "radioactive apocalyptic desert." Maybe the ladies and gentlemen who are sewing blankets and pillow shams just aren't attracted to such descriptions. Strange, but likely true.

Therefore, I had to resort to actually looking at fabric stores! Walking down aisles! Muttering "blasted plain, blasted plain, blasted plain..." over and over to myself while nice ladies with shopping carts of flowered prints swiftly scooted to other regions. Then, at our local Joann store (ask your sewing and home hobby friends), I stumbled upon a mottled green fleece labeled "Tie-dye Green." Well, I didn't want green, but it didn't look like what I associated with tie-dying at all; it looked like an abstractly mottled surface in multiple shades of no discernible repeating pattern. Had it been brown (or a suitably radioactive muted orange— no, Google can't help with that, either), it would have been perfect. But alas, the aisle bore no browns or oranges or even yellows. But now I knew how fabric makers title their "nuclear apocalypse disaster" colors to attract hobby sewers. They call it "Tie-dye!"

"He can be taught!"

Armed with knowledge, I scurried back to my command center and called up Google again. I typed in "tie dye brown fleece" and hey, presto! up popped "Blizzard Tie-Dye Khaki Fleece..." at Joann! (I should have muttered my way down at least one more aisle...) And this week it was on sale at half price. Cue me saying, "Hey, Honey, how would you like to go to that clearance shoe store you like?" To which she replied, "That happens to be near the Joann store with the desert fabric you were looking for? Get in the car."
I am known very well.

So, one car trip, two pairs of shoes, and about $7 and change later, I have the below:

A BLASTED NUCLEAR-DEVASTATED POST-APOCALYPTIC PLAIN!

The Ogre approaches. Give up.
(PS to Ogre-geeks. Yes, those are Combine vehicles, and the Ogre is technically a Combine unit. Guess making killer AI tanks that can think for themselves is a bad idea, huh? Oddly, this is how SJG packed the original metal boxed set. Yes, I painted those.)

And as you can see, it's already Ogre approved.

--- Howard Shirley, aka Parzival

The War of the Reluctant Caesars

Well, I've been away from this for awhile for a host of reasons, but I'm finally back to catch up with a least a few fun gaming stories. So without further ado, I give you (stirring drumroll)...

The Tale of the Reluctant Caesars

Last weekend saw the gathering of my semi-irregular-hey-are-we-gonna-do-this-or-not gaming group. Which turned out to be the theme of the evening.

Only four of us could get together, so I set out what I thought would be some workable games for a mid-range number of players. The choices included my newly acquired copy of Dungeons & Dragons: The Conquest of Nerath (essentially the Axis & Allies system in a fantasy setting), Risk: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Edition, Risk: Godstorm, and Conquest of the Empire. The first two games on this list are ideally intended for four players, whereas the last is designed for up to six (a detail which I believe was more significant than we anticipated).

The players for the evening consisted of my friend Michael, his teen-age son Chase, and Lon, a friend from work and new addition to the group. As one probably guesses, given the title of this post, Conquest of the Empire (hereafter CotE) won out as the preferred choice.

"It's YUGE!"

If you're not familiar with CotE, it's a reprint by Eagle Games of one of Milton Bradley's classic GameMaster series. The Eagle Games version (now sadly OOP) is quite simply a stunning production. The map features the Roman Empire at its greatest extent (completely surrounding the Mediterranean Sea, and including Britannia). As one would hope, it is gorgeous. It is also HUGE. The board is 3'x3.5'; we had to place some old oversized "dining room table protectors" inherited from my wife's grandmother on top of my 3'x4' kitchen table to give us extra edge space on which to set our pieces. (I brought over a small side table to hold mine.) The pieces are brightly colored plastic figures of Roman legionnaires, Roman generals, Caesars, Auxiliary cavalry, Roman galleys, and catapults (with working swing arms!). There are also cities, city walls ("fortifications"), and Roman roads, plus assorted faction markers and over-sized heavy plastic "Roman" coins in two denominations, one "gold" and one "silver." The custom dice are a bit oversized, and depict the various forces that can participate in a battle (match the image rolled to a unit which is attacking, and that unit kills an opposing piece). The game also includes markers and cards for an entirely different game using the same pieces (and called "CotE II"). Since the rules for these, however, have proven to be about as intelligible to us as a Latin manuscript, we strictly play the "classic" version, which is only slightly modified from the original. The goal of the game is to capture every opposing Caesar; each player has just one. This is done by capturing provinces, collecting tribute, building armies, navies, cities and roads, and engaging in singularly devastating combat.

Except for Lon, the newbie, this was to be our group's fourth time playing CotE (if you count the time a player was eliminated on the very first turn; on that time, we proclaimed a "do-over," and his Caesar was resurrected). So we're somewhat familiar with the game, but hardly experts, and barely qualify as veterans. Lon chose the red army, Chase, blue, Michael, purple, and myself, black.

Gentlemen, Start Your Legions

Each Caesar begins the game in control of a specific starting province, dictated by the rules and the number of players in the game. Unlike Axis&Allies or Risk, each force holds one and only one province at the start of the game; the rest are solely acquired through movement and conquest. Provinces are worth either 10 "talents" (1 gold coin) or 5 "talents" (1 silver coin) during a player's "collect tribute phase." A city on a province (only one per province) adds 5 more talents. After all movement and combat by a player, these talents are collected and used to purchase forces, which are then placed on the starting province only, ending the player's turn.

Movement is simple; depending on the piece, on a turn it moves either 1 or 2 provinces (or sea spaces, for galleys). However, all pieces can only move if a general or Caesar accompanies them. So if you don't have one of these with your forces, they're staying put until one of these leader units joins them. Galleys can move by themselves, but a leader is required to accompany any land forces the galley transports across the sea. So, no leader, no legion— at least, not a mobile one.

Combat is equally simple. When forces enter an enemy's province, and that province has troops, then a battle must occur. (Unoccupied provinces are captured without a fight; Roman citizens appear to have fickle allegiances.) Both the attacker and the defender divide their troops into a "battle line" and a "reserve." Battle line troops can fight and be killed; reserves cannot (though reserve catapults can attack— "Unleash Hell!" Which I think is why we have leash laws). Leaders can increase the number of troops on the battle line, which adds more combat dice. There are a few other niceties, but that serves as an explanation. Once all non-leader forces have been eliminated, or either player opts to retreat, the battle is over (though cavalry gets an extra attack against retreating forces). The survivor conquers the territory. Any unsupported leaders are captured. Generals may be ransomed and returned to their forces (the players agree on any terms, including alliances, permission to use roads/straits, or just plain gold), or executed, their remains ignobly interred in the cardboard game box. A captured Caesar eliminates the player controlling it from the game, with the victor claiming his forces, lands and tribute.

Build Armies! Build Cities! Build Roads! Build Walls! Fight Inflation! (Wait, What?)

The real strategy of the game, however, lies in tribute and purchasing. Different units have different costs, some quite significant compared to the amount of tribute received. Cities, fortifications, and roads may also be built, giving advantages in tribute, combat, and movement (respectively), and roads can only be built between cities (and adjacent cities at that). Roads allow land forces to treat movement along them as 1 movement cost, regardless of the length of the road, allowing the controlling player to move his forces rapidly from one end of the map to the other— that is, if the roads are built. And as in real life and the real Roman Empire, all this is complicated by inflation! Once any player exceeds 100 talents in tribute at the end of his turn, prices of all units and terrain features double for everyone. At 200 talents, prices triple. You may have more gold, but it's worth a lot less! This, too is significant.

On the Night In Question, or Who Wants To Be A Tough Guy Anyway?

Back to the start of our game. With four players, we each had the following starting locations: Chase held Macedonia (midway across the north half of the map, more or less), Michael held Mesopotamia (extreme eastern edge), Lon claimed Hispania (oh, you know where that is), and yours truly was granted the glorious province of Numidia (Ancient Carthage, modern Libya-ish; either way, I got a desert. Woohoo). From there, we each in turn spread our meager armies (5 legionnaires, 4 generals, 1 Caesar) as far as we could, and stopped. Literally, we just stopped. Each of us quickly made agreements to not attack across our extreme edge borders, and just began collecting tribute. There were minor "province swapping" moments with provinces left undefended, and a skirmish here or there, but for the most part nobody was willing to commit forces into all out attacks on anybody else.

For three hours.

I kid you not.

Oh, yes, some galleys got sunk. I even sent out two galleys to successfully sink a naval invasion force sent out by Chase ("It was against him!" he protested to me, pointing at Lon. "Well, you didn't tell my navy that," I replied. Hey, nobody sails through my sea without the proper paperwork and environmental impact forms, or at least a few talents slipping under the table. Preferably the latter.)
We did make a lot of jokes, including a few obligatory Python retreads and references to Dr. Who and Black Adder ("That's your cunning plan?"), but as for actually conquering the Roman Empire? Not these Caesars. "Yeah, that last guy? He got poisoned. The guy before that? Stabbed by his own bodyguard. Caesar, shmeaser, I think I'll take a pass and build a nice villa overlooking the beach."

The game wound up being called on account of "dang it's late and three of us have work tomorrow." We ruled that Chase would have wound up being the target of everyone for triggering the first round of inflation (these Caesars were not only reluctant, they were cheap), but it really wasn't possible to declare a victor.

How to Make War

In retrospect, it may be that CotE really isn't suited for a small group of players. As spread out as we were, and with the limited starting forces, it took two full times around the board for anyone to actually encounter anyone else, and at that point the incentive to fight each other was limited, due both to weak forces strung out over too many provinces and to fears of triggering inflation if another province got picked up. If we'd had a fifth Caesar, however, I think we'd have wound up with forces quickly pressing against each other, with tributes remaining low enough to encourage battles over provinces without the fear of the inflation jump.

Despite that, I think we all did enjoy building up our forces based on our personal strategies. Lon favored land units and connecting roads. I went for the largest navy (having little land mass in which to spread without potentially devastating combat). Michael and Chase attempted a mix. So a good time was had, even if the lands of Ancient Rome were a lot less bloody than we had expected.

Stay tuned for our next adventure in gaming...whenever that actually happens!

Howard Shirley, aka Parzival

PS: No pics, 'cause I didn't have my camera ready. Maybe I'll add some shots of CotE later.