Alliance and Questor

Tuesday was supposed to be held at Joe's, but when Andrew and I both pulled out (I couldn't walk, thanks to gout) Joe charitably suggested we move the venue to my place, and Ian and Martin charitably agreed.

That was where the charity ended, though, as our first game was Root as requested by Martin and Joe and delightedly agreed to by me. Ian was curious - and amenable - enough after his play on Saturday to revisit.

Joe's birds (blue) begin to spread, whilst Martin's 

Alliance (green) have revolted

I won't give another overview as I've been writing about nothing else for the past two weeks, as previous posts will attest. But it's probably worth remembering that despite it's cutesy appearance, Root is as much a war game as something like Cuba Libre - possibly even more so.

With Martin there I was hotly anticipating which rules I'd been playing wrong, but fortunately there were only two minor corrections, and one glaring one concerning the Vagabond that went some way - not to take anything away from him, as we will see - to explaining Stanley's relentless parade of victories with this faction. Whilst I played the tramp himself, looking to complete Quests and possibly pick off the odd warrior, Ian reclaimed the Marquise de Cat, Joe played the Eyrie, and Martin was my personal favourites the Woodland Alliance.

We were off like a rocket - a kind of 1980's rocket, that made a big noise but didn't go anywhere, as Ian fell victim to the dreaded AP on his very first turn. He kept apologising, but Root is not a game where simple things necessarily suggest themselves. "Don't think too much" Martin told him, and Ian built a sawmill.

Ian, with me lurking behind

And so we began, and what also began was a procession of expletives from all corners of the table, with the exception of Joe, who remained sanguine throughout. The word fuck sailed through the air so many times I started jotting down who said what.

This game is fucking nuts - Martin, several times
Well, that's my infrastructure fucked - Ian, after I wiped out his sawmill
I should never have damaged that fucking hammer - me, regretting things
This decree is about to play out its last hurrah - Joe, admirably clean-spoken
This game is fucking mental - Martin, several times
That's me fucking fucked - Ian, after I wiped out two sawmills
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing - Martin, not necessarily telling the truth
Well, I'm fucking last then - Ian, victim again to our insurgencies

And the reason for all this profanity was the warfare playing out on the board, where the opening battles - Marquise versus Eyrie - were complicated by Martin's arrival in the form of some very cute little mice, with bombs. I - the Vagabond - was supposedly slipping in and out of the battle like a master tactician, gathering Quests and crafting some good shit. The thing was, instead of focussing on a particular type of quest - foxes, for instance - which would have been more rewarding, I was rather more scattergun, and hence less point-scorey. And I couldn't craft at all, because as previously noted, I'd damaged my hammer, and repairing it meant sacrificing a whole turn, sat in the woods on my furry arse.

Martin looks cute, but fools nobody

Ian's cats start the game as a natural target, as they have control over every clearing but one, and everyone hates the Marquise as a result. But Ian's brooding fatalism was somewhat in contrast to his march up the track, as mid-game he held a clear lead on the rest of us, and showed no sign of letting up with his many sawmills scattered across the board providing him with ample wood to build. He needed stopping, so I turned hostile and went on the attack.

Meanwhile Martin - as Ian kept reminding us - was building up to a big points haul in one fell swoop, but for Joe and I it was Hobson's choice, really - we knew Martin was going to hit jackpot at some point, but Ian was advancing with every build, and needed checking as well. We made an informal pact to take out both of them, despite the fact we'd been hostile since my second or third turn.

Martin on the verge of victory. Ian in second, but Joe about to play.

It got bleak. Ian tossed down his cards and said he didn't like the game. Joe went into Turmoil. I was languishing at the back on fairly minimal points, and glaring balefully at my broken hammer. Martin, despite his apparent bewilderment, and Ian's warnings, was gearing up for a win.

We focused our efforts on him, but Ian's two attacks ended in disaster - the first at the hands of an ambush, the second with a shitty role that favoured Martin (the Woodland Alliance are the strongest in defence, taking the higher roll when attacked). Martin told Ian to stop sulking. Ian said he wanted to sulk. Joe waded in on Martin, and so did I, but it wasn't enough: Martin crafted, spread sympathy, and disdainfully flicked Joe's home roost off the board as the cherry on his rodent-flavoured cake to hit the thirty-point mark.

Joe finished second whilst Ian and I - thanks to my hastily-formed coalition on my final turn, which I'm not sure Ian truly welcomed - were last third together. I would have been fourth if not for the coalition.

Martin!

Martin (Alliance) 30
Joe (Eyrie) 23
Ian and Sam (Marquise, Vagabond) 21

My dreams of a GNN group hug for Root look somewhat dashed, then, with Andrew and Ian far from convinced and Martin mostly bemused. At least Joe likes it! For me, I think it's the most fascinating new game I've played in a long time, one that always tells a story. It prompted much discussion afterwards, with even Ian conceding he'd play again - just not as the Marquise, who to be fair has probably the least gripping objective of building stuff - and without the tricky-but-interesting curio of the Eyrie's decree to accompany it. Martin was intrigued enough to revisit it too, and I'd definitely encourage that. As I've become more familiar with what's going on, the bafflement (if not the feistiness) drops away and you can focus on the tactical play much more... albeit I didn't do that particularly well myself last night.

Then, after Ian's spooner-related story about checking junk and spam folders, we played Lost Cities: The Rivals. A first play for me, and accurately described by Martin as Lost Cities meets Ra. I'm terrible at these bidding games because I play so conservatively, but it was fun all the same - a multi-player Lost Cities where you can force up the bid or play a single coin/token to force an auction - like having an optional 'one' token in Ra. Ian recovered from his Root experience to rack up a very convincing win, as Martin, Joe and I gnashed our teeth in despair.

Ian 44
Martin 36
Sam 33
Joe 32

And then we ignored Martin's protests and played Perudo. I'd love to say I played a blinder but to be fair I think there was only one instance where my dice were a jamboree - often I had a very helpful set of the same number, and often they were sixes or aces. Martin - to my left - kept dudo-ing and being utterly appalled by the failure of probability, as he lost die after die and was first out by some distance, leading to yet more coarse language. Next up was Joe, who while Palafico made an ambitious bid of two sixes. I had no sixes at all, so dudo-ed. Then Ian and I faced off and I dudo-ed again when he doubled my bid of a single four, and I had none.

Sam - wins!
Ian
Joe
Martin

Martin was keen on another game, but Joe was of a mind to go. Martin asked for a lift, and Joe said no. There followed a debate about how long it takes to drive to various destinations in Bristol, before Martin banged his fist on the table (metaphorically) and said he wanted a game or a lift, causing much mirth. They negotiated their way to a lift to the motorway, and we called it a night. A classic night. Thanks guys!

Maximus Frustratus

Dear reader, I bring you sad news from the war. Not news of lost lives or tragic fate, nor of excitement and derring do, but one of quite stoicism and sparse opportunities. And spicy crisps.

My unconventional opening

Rather than being a time of great turmoil in the history of the Roman Empire, we saw Ian become Emperor in round four and then stay there for almost the rest of the game. It was an uneasy but remarkably persistent reign. First, let's see how he got there.

Ian began in Hispania and with 3 blue and 2 red, he expanded south into Africa (buying a 2-level blue card). Then, with 3 yellow and 2 red he built a Basilica and reinforced his army, both in Africa (bought a 2-red). Then, despite weakening the neutral emperor in Rome for Martin's benefit, Ian decided his next hand of 5 blue, 1 red would be best spent on a new 3-level governor and being voted into Thracia.

As expected, Martin then became emperor using exactly the same sequence of cards (3B 2R, 3Y 2R, 5B 1R) and then I unseated Ian in Thracia, crucially giving him a spare governor to use on his next turn. Joe sportingly sent an army into Italia to weaken Emperor Martin's army there, despite him having no chance of becoming Emperor. Ian capitalised on the moment and with his fourth hand of 3R 5B, he recruited a Nomad in Africa, crossed the sea to Italia and defeated Martin's army (“after I'd loosened the lid,” as Joe pointed out) and was duly voted as Emperor.

In retaliation, Martin took Africa from Emperor Ian and then put a mob in Hispania. Joe retreated from Italy back to Gallia, and built an army in his otherwise defenceless Syria. Previous games had seen the Middle East as a pit of turmoil and he (and I, with my Limes in Galatia) were expecting the worst. Oddly, nothing of the sort happened, and the massed Sassanids didn't cross over into our regions at all.

Ian unseated me in Britannia – the first of many such occasions when this country would change hands – to regain support in Rome while Martin, with only 3 yellow and 2 red, simply reinforced and boosted support in Africa. The score was currently Martin 24, Ian 23, Andrew 20, Joe 18.

The board after round five

Ian had somehow clung on for another Emperor turn, but how long could he hold out? Remarkably long, that's how long. On his turn he was always able to get a third region back, and his three-strong army in Italia made any election prospects very slim.

During the game, Joe pondered thoughtfully over choosing his next hand a couple of times. The first time was long enough for the three of us to finish a bag of wasabi crisps. During the second time, Martin mentioned that everyone has a Joe turn at least once during the game, and Joe refused to believe that “a Joe turn” was actually a thing.

My one chance at glory (when I had 5R, 1Y and 5B and was gearing up to reinforce Pannonia, move into Italia, defeat Ian's army and get voted in on a tide of populism) was actually spent on invading fighting Barbarians and dealing with Ian and Martin both sending mobs into my regions.

First sight of Kniva and the Goths. A pretty average indie band.

Joe's chance was snatched away even more cruelly, as we all forgot that a Pretorian Guard ignores any army units in a region when counting votes to become Emperor. How we forgot that, we cannot say. Perhaps we were too distracted by Martin going online and working out the odds of Joe's plan of splitting his red points to attack Franks in Frankland as well as running for the Senate. Joe did so, and beat the Franks for points before turning his mind to political affairs. He needed 9 votes with 7 dice, but he only rolled 7 votes. A plucky attempt.

Of course, later, when Martin played his own Pretorian Guard, he remembered the rule and we all realised Joe had only needed six votes so should have been Emperor by now. In the final reckoning, it would've been only enough to get him into third on the score track, but the injustice of it all certainly put a dampener on an already pretty damp game.

As the game came to a close, it was only eleven o'clock. Martin was on 49 points and it was his turn with 5 blue and 9 red (including a Pretorian Guard) his prospects were good. “Martin could end the game,” said Ian. “I hope so,” said Joe.

Martin used three blue to get voted into Gallia. Then he recalled his governor from Britannia. How ironic: it had changed hand with almost every turn and now, at the very end, it went back to being neutral. Then his army from Macedonia moved into Pannonia, foederatied an Alamanni and then defeated the other Alamanni there, before using eight dice to try and get six votes. He succeeds! His total at the end of the round is exactly 60 points and after the points for Emperor Turns was added on, it could hardly have been closer.

Pointing!

Martin 66
Ian 65
Andrew 48
Joe 46 (but should be up in the mid-fifties)

It was a shame that the game never really caught fire. The consensus among us was that the expansion cards really can't come soon enough.

Since the night was still young(ish) we played one more game – Lost Cities: The Rivals. This game was described by Martin as Reiner Knizia remixing his greatest hits, as the familiar mechanics of bidding, money recycling and set collecting all seemed to be taken from previous games.

It was okay, although I was quite tired. It's all about managing your luck and somehow knowing when to go big. But, as Joe said, “You don't know it's too late until it's too late.” He did not go on to say “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.”

Joe 44
Andrew 43
Ian 36
Martin 25 “or something”

And so we were done. I drove Joe home in a very different mood from last month. Back then it was the triumphant return of the conquering hero. This time, Joe must've wondered if he'd accidentally angered an ancient god during a recent visit he'd made to some Roman ruins.