Fruit flies like a banana

The omens for games night weren't good, with rain crashing down outside and in the house (mine; Sam's) an infestation of fruit flies having migrated from the hot bin in the garden. I spent some time chasing them around in a murderous rage, but there were simply too many. A knock on the door and the Easton massif - Gareth, Ian, Martin - arrived in good time to have the little bastards swarm around their drinks. The other ill portent were the crisps - pork and apple Sensations - which tasted, maybe not that surprisingly, gross. Although Gareth charitably ruminated that it was more about expectations, renaming them slow-cooked pork belly in a sweet apple sauce. We were still flicking flies away when Joe and the final Eastonite, Adam H, arrived, upon which time we set up Formula Motor Racing. 

We were mostly familiar with it's charms this time, but Martin went through the rules for Adam, who'd not played before. Cards are played to shuffle the cars about, in the hope you'll be at or near the front when the cards run out. You're often moving cars other than your own, but at least you can draft with an overtaking car, or play some kind of punitive measure on someone else. I got my cars to the front early on, but neither finished the race. Adam, who at one point had both his cars right at the back, managed a win at the death:

Adam H 10
Martin 7
Ian 6
Gareth 3

I still find it a bit arbitrary-feeling, but agree with Martin that the three-races suggestion in the rules makes sense - it would add some drama and escalation and a sense of shape. 

We split into two threes, with Ian, Gareth and Martin setting up Babylonia and Joe, Adam and I playing Tin Goose. Even though I'd played recently I found my mind a blank as I got everything out of the box and tried to summon some kind of zen calm, which was maybe partially successful. In the game players are competing airlines, bidding for more fleets in order to increase their presence on the map - the catch being that everyone is hampered by the chaotic, badly-run and accident prone ways of their airlines and need to improve them as the rounds pass, decades fly by and your starting fleets of Ford Trimotors eventually give way to the airbuses of the skies. 

It's only seven rounds, but the opacity of the relative values of everything - with players collectively deciding worth - meant took us a while - so long that at the other end of the table finished Babylonia before I could even get a picture of it, and started playing Azul. Martin won Babylonia rather convincingly as the others narrowly contested second place:

Martin 162
Gareth 118
Ian 117

And followed that with another victory in a tumultuous game of Azul:

Martin 68
Ian 66
Gareth 58

They even had time for a game of Spicy whilst we wrapped up our competition!

Gareth 33

Martin 19

Ian 17

"It turns out I can bullshit" said Gareth, pleased with his revenge after being stiffed on the final round of Azul. By this time we were wrapping up too, and Adam's domination of the International airways was proving not as clinically deadly as we'd feared. In the final count-up he was briefly second, but after we'd repaid our bonds, I snuck past him. Meanwhile Joe, who'd focused his efforts on serving the domestic interests at home, was King of the Airways:

Joe $308k

Sam $270k

Adam H $258k

It was time for So Clover, 

With six of us there was a possible 36 points to be had, and we got off to a flying start with Ian and my words being deducted in short order. Where we ran into trouble was Joe's clue Achilles being harpooned by the random card containing Arrow. Then we became convinced that Adam's clue of scabbard related to the words Sword Carton. It would have been nice if it were true - but it wasn't. Not unreasonably it was Sword and Draw. Despite these humps in the interpretive road, though we still managed a very decent 32/36.

With an early start, Gareth and Adam headed for home whilst the rest of us settled on a finisher of High Score, Reiner Knizia's Decathlon-esque game of rolling dice and hoping for the best. Seven rounds challenge you to score in numerous ways, with varying dice-rolling rules (freeze at least one; roll thrice; roll four times but it has to be all the dice etc) applied to various objectives. The bizarre humour of probabilities was evident when Joe managed to break the scoretrack by scoring 60, and then Martin - needing 4's - rolled every 4 there was to be had. 

proof

But Ian's slow and steady stream of second-place finishes in the rounds was enough to give him the game when he broke the habit to win the final round and push himself past Martin:

Ian 13

Martin 11

Joe/Sam 9 each

And that was that! Thanks to Joe and Adam for your patience on a fairly epic Tin Goose whilst the others played three games. I do like it, but appreciate it's a little longer than standard Tuesday night fare.