Plow Factor Beats Wow Factor

For the second time in a week, Chris and James faced each other, farmers at the ready, for another game of Agricola. But this time, Paul was along for the plough ride. Literally, because Paul was dealt the much-envied (okay, twice-envied) riding plow in his hand of minor improvements. But first he played the clay pit and specialised in clay, threatening to disappear behind clay as he stacked it up.

James was determined to sow some grains this time round, but he fanned out his hands of cards and the cards told him instead to build a sprawling farmhouse so good it could feature on Grand Designs. In the meantime, Chris showed signs of dabbling in a bit of everything. Again. 

Paul didn’t actually do much of anything with his hoard of clay. Instead, he was again drawn to the sheep, collecting them up and promising them a good life (most got eaten). Chris soon had a frenzied grain industry on the go but also did up his farmhouse, often snatching reed and stone just before James reached for it. James’ architectural plans had the need for reed, but reed baron Chris hogged the lot, even flaunting his reed pond full of, erm, reed.

James treaded water, well fed as he was with his fishing rod and his fruit orchard. Paul took his riding plow for a spin, rapidly surrounding his sheep with fields before planting his grain. Chris grumbled constantly that he was falling behind even as his windmill churned out the foodstuff. But if the grass seemed greener on the other side, it was only because James, once again, wasn’t really doing anything in it.

James' field is looking a bit empty unlike farmer Paul's!

New Starburst Morphs were tried and the ceiling was stared at as the players tried to guess what flavours were morphing in their mouths. Ever-changing they were not and Wonker-style wonder was not achieved.

Again, the game’s end loomed too soon over the horizon. James searched his occupations cards for a chrono-mancer, hoping something would stop the march of game-time. But just as he completed the most splendid five-room farmhouse of stone, he could do little else but once again fence off his entire board as a single, empty pasture. With no points for tumbleweeds, he knew he was doomed to last place.

Paul seemed quietly confident, adding a few flourishes to his farming utopia. Chris couldn’t hide his frustration at his unused squares and regretted doing up his farmhouse as much as he had.

The scoring was totted up. Paul had done it, though only by a fairly small margin. An award-winning farm, run from an undeveloped farmhouse, marked by an unused pile of clay. Chris’ farm came second, all windmill and waste ground. James needs to swear on someone’s life that he will actually sow some grain next time. But nobody especially close, in case he doesn’t.

Final score: Paul 37, Chris 34, James 24.  

A quick glance at the clock and it was decided a game of Medici would end the night nicely. James rubbed his miserly merchant hands and readied his pea-green ship. James’ fingertips were gold magnets and he roared ahead, twice finding gold and having the best ship in all three rounds. Chris was always in second place, Paul always in third.

Final score: James 170, Chris 121, Paul 115.

Report by Paul, rumoured to be ghost written by James.