Month: May 2013 (page 1 of 5)

Twilight Imperium – Hunka Hunka Burning Sun

Previously in Twilight Imperium: It was a pirate’s life for me.

There are a few games out there that promise a different play experience every time you unpack it. I’ve played a few that do vary from session to session, but after two games of Twilight Imperium, I can say that every game is, in fact, different. Tactical actions are done the same way, and the strategies were the same, but everything else was different. Even though we opted for another pre-set map, rather than taking the extra time to distribute the system tiles per the rules, the map was completely different. I did not expect all of the tech specialties to pepper our galaxy the way they did. For the most part, we chose our races at random. My father chose the L1z1x Mindnet (blue), my neice represented the Federation of Sol (purple), my brother-in-law lead the Yssaril Tribes (red), and I drew the Embers of Muaat (black).

I chose to include the options of Custodians of Mecatol Rex and the Wormhole Nexus, as the last time we played, it was far too easy to steam right to the capital. My neice began taking advantage of Sol’s racial powers right away, spawning extra Ground Forces on planets she occupied. My father industrialized quickly, pushing out from 0.0.1, while my brother in law and I established at least a casual alliance as he took sped out from his own home systems. My War Sun, hampered by slow movement, was at least able to claim the rare triple-system near Muaat. The newcomers got a handle on how the turns and actions worked, and by the end of round 2, we all had a good idea of how to proceed with our various plans.

As round 3 moved forward, my father essentially blocked off my neice’s advance towards his systems, and she seemed put off by the approach of my War Sun, now armed and fully operational. My brother bolstered his position on one side of Mecatol Rex, and the War Sun moved into the other side. For most of the rest of the round, each of us tried to determine who would actually go for it. I took the Diplomacy action to prevent my nearest system from getting trounced by either my neice’s growing armies or my father’s dreadnaughts. With that peace of mind, I rolled into Mecatol Rex, the public objective for which had just been revealed. At this point, the game was very close, with my father and my neice tied for first at 2 or 3 Victory Points.

My dad’s a bit notorious around our gaming table. With his massive fleets and aggressive expansion, nobody trusted him. At one point, he asked “How did I make 3 enemies in a 4 person game?” My brother and I were sort of glaring at one another as his Flagship occupied space near my War Sun. As Sol and the Mindnet also glared at one another, there was a palpable sense of tension around the table. It felt very different from the previous TI game, and as my brother swept into my father’s space, I knew that our erstwhile alliance was coming to an end.

Sure enough, the Yssaril Tribes moved in on Mecatol Rex. A great deal of fire was exchanged, but at the end, I was still able to complete my Master of Ships secret objective. The lead that afforded me was tenuous at best, as both my brother and my neice were right behind me. We had agreed to play to 8 victory points, and my objective put me at 6. This was the point in the game where the Diplomacy strategy could almost be used as a weapon or a means to limit an opponent’s choices, and the Bureaucracy strategy became more and more attractive.

By this point, my father had caught up to me in terms of tech. He, too, could construct War Suns. I knew I had to deal with him, but I had to do so in such a way that neither my niece nor my brother could capitalize on my focus. I needn’t have worried, through, as it was at around this point that the Yssaril invaded Muaat. Knowing that I could not claim any more objectives if my homeworld was occupied, the bold move was meant to forestall a Muaat victory. I now had the choice between going after my homeworld or taking my brother’s as he had taken mine. Before I could decide, my brother activated Diplomacy, declaring his home system a DMZ.

With no choice, I steamed home, abandoning Mecatol Rex, and fought to reclaim Muaat. There was some confusion over the proper use of the Gen Synthesis technology, but in the end, Muaat remained in the hands of the Yssaril. The other players were closing in, aiming to destroy my remaining space docks and possibly knock me out. However, during the Strategy phase, I had chosen Bureaucracy. When I activated it, the Imperium Rex card was available, and I played it, ending the game.

Twilight Imperium is quickly becoming one of my favorite board games of all time, and not just because of this win. The variety and depth of the game is staggering, and I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface. I have yet to play with Mercenaries, Political Intrigue, or Leaders, to say nothing of Distant Suns, but I know they’re on the horizon. My niece, at the conclusion of this game, asked “When are we playing again?” in a very eager tone of voice.

Even if I’d lost, I couldn’t have asked for a better victory.

Goals and Failure

Courtesy allthingshealing.com

I have certain daily goals. Write 350 words. Get my running pace to around 11 minutes. Spend wisely. Eat healthy. Lift more heavy things. So on and so forth.

In addition to being an imperfect human animal, circumstances sometimes fall together in that a goal is unattainable temporarily, or I am too drained to reach for it. Whatever the reasoning or excuse offered up, though, the bottom line is that I fail in my goal. The day comes to a close and I find myself looking at several failures, large and small, littered behind me.

I’ve come to understand that I can’t let them weigh too heavily on my shoulders.

Emerson tells us this:

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

Goals are great for us to have. They give us something to aim at, an achievement to strive towards. As much as accepting compromise or failure can lead to complacency and stagnation, we also cannot obsess over achieving every goal we set, at least in the short term. That way lies madness. So, as in most things, the key is in balance.

Have your goals. Work towards them. Make as much effort as you can to get where you want to be. And if you don’t exactly get there, you’ll at least be closer. Progress is progress, even if it seems slow or even glacial.

I’m reminding myself of that every day, and you should, too, especially if you’re feeling frustrated or depressed about how work is turning out or how circumstances are coming together. Be patient. Take a deep breath. Try again. If all else fails, remember that you get to start fresh tomorrow, and possibly do even better.

Don’t give up. Never surrender. Put one foot, physical or metaphorical, in front of the other, and you’ll get where you want to go.

Movie Review: Anchorman – The Legend of Ron Burgundy

I can finally remove a stigma from my character in the eyes of my friends. I used to confess that I’d never seen Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgandy and there would be a collective gasp. Apparently it was an ironclad classic of comedy and I was doing myself a disservice by not watching it. That was the impression I got from some, anyway. And in any event, it’s now a moot point, as I finally made the time to watch this little Will Ferrell gem.

Courtesy DreamWorks

Will takes the title role of Ron Burgundy, the lead anchor of Channel 4’s Action News team in San Diego. This is in the 70s, “a time before cable,” and network news was a big deal, especially the ‘action’ slant on it. Ron’s backed up by his suave man in the field, the ten-gallon-hat-wearing sports commentator, and a weatherman who’s a few cold fronts short of a weather map. They’re at the top of their game, and everything is going smoothly, until their boss tells them there have been some concerns raised about diversity and – much to their shock – a woman is added to their team.

There’s something timeless about Anchorman. Unfortunately, the timeless element is the misogyny observed within a male-dominated professional environment. To its credit, the movie definitely comes down against the behavior of those that would keep Christina Applegate’s character from advancing. We observe these idiotic shenanigans from the outside, and as much as the setting of the 70s may underscore the silliness of the mens’ behavior, the opportunity to point and laugh at such simple-minded perspectives is a welcome one. It’s subtle, but under the more obvious jokes is the impression that our fearsome foursome are seriously out of touch with the world around them, wrapped up in their own legends and the reputation of their news team.

Courtesy DreamWorks
Ron’s mustache is unimpressed.

I will go on record and say I’m not the world’s biggest Will Ferrell fan. I’m generally more interested in subtle or deadpan humor than overt, pie-in-the-face silliness. Timing is everything in comedy, and too much in-your-face relentless slapstick just turns me off. Anchorman does have some flashy, overt set pieces – the jazz flute sequence, the news team brawl, and so on – but the film is actually rather balanced. For every overt sight gag, there’s a subtle jab either at a character in the film or at society in general. While it’s certainly not the highest of comedies, nor is it steeped in satire like some other works, it does not make the mistake of relying entirely on on particular kind of humor, be it repeated gags or body humor or innuendo. The variety in the comedy keeps it fresh enough to not overstay its welcome.

Another factor in Anchorman‘s favor is the spot-on performances of the cast. From Paul Rudd’s unctuous Brian Fantana to Steve Carell’s somewhat simple Brick Tamland, the cast behind Will Ferrell brings their A game. Christina Applegate, in particular, not only puts Veronica Corningstone side by side with Ron Burgundy in every way, but holds her own in comedic timing and delivery right next to Ferrell. As much as the world of the movie revolves around Ron Burgundy, I was glad that his character did not entirely dominate the proceedings. The construction of the film is overall very solid and balanced, and this leads to a very enjoyable viewing experience.

Courtesy DreamWorks
Yeah!!!!!

I don’t review comedies often, and it feels like my usual breakdown is detrimental to them. I don’t want to spoil any more jokes than I already have, so let’s just skip right to the Bottom Line:

Anchorman – The Legend of Ron Burgundy is a well-paced, well-staged, and very funny comedy. It’s silly fun, similar in tone and timbre to older parody movies like Airplane!, and while it doesn’t quite reach that level of brilliance, it’s still a good time, especially with friends.

Flash Fiction: The Dagger of McNally

Celtic Dagger

This week’s Terribleminds challenge is Must Include Psychic Powers, and the d20 of Destiny chose Psychometry.


“This is dumb.” It was about the thirtieth time Victoria had said so. “It’s been in my family since before they came over. I know where it came from and who it was made for. And on top of all of that, curses do NOT exist.”

“Look, I just want to be sure, okay? You know I love your dad; think about it. He’s a chemical engineer. He knows how proportions work. Didn’t you tell me once he’s a great cook?”

“Yes…”

“Then how exactly did he give himself a case of food poisoning?”

Victoria glared at her would-be mother-in-law. “I still think we’re wasting our time.”

“Our time isn’t better spent in the waiting room. We’re being proactive.”

Victoria studied the facade of the building. ISAIAH WELLINGTON – PSYCHIC SERVICES

“I’d rather trust the medical professionals.”

“They’re doing all they can. Come on.”

With a pained sigh, Victoria followed Sylvia into the house. The main room of the small domicile was paneled in dark wood and filled with the smells of sweet incense. It was definitely present but not overwhelming. The man at the table in the center of the room did not look up from the Tarot cards on the table in front of him.

“Mister Wellington?”

“Please, Sylvia, call me Isaiah.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Some psychic. You probably called him.”

“You’re not going to learn anything if you have that attitude.”

“And what am I going to learn here?”

“You’re going to learn about the history of your family.”

“You don’t know a thing about my family.”

“You are Victoria McNally, your family has been in America since before the Revolutionary War, and you come from a long line of conquerors and betrayers.”

“Did you look that up on Google, Mr. Psychic?”

Isaiah looked up. His eyes were completely white, and Victoria gasped at the sight.

“I don’t get much from websites, Victoria.” As he packed up his deck, Sylvia noticed the titles of the cards were in Braille. “Now. Let’s have the item.”

Sylvia fished around in her purse to pull out a white dishtowel wrapped around something. She began to unwrap it. Isaiah’s face uncannily turned in her direction.

“Be careful. It must touch no other hand but mine. Did you wear gloves when you retrieved it from the mansion?”

“Yes I did. It’s considered a historical artifact. Anybody who’s wanted to see it outside of the case has had to wear gloves.”

“Good. It should be as clear as possible.”

Sylvia carefully began to unwrap the towel, letting the contents spill out into Isaiah’s extended hands. Fingers with cracked nails turned ancient metal end over end, and Isaiah’s milky white eyes slowly closed.

“The dagger was forged in the highlands seven… maybe eight hundred years ago. A gift, for one of the first warriors to bear the name McNally. I can see him… tall he was, broad of shoulder…”

“Like the cover of a romance novel?”

“I don’t think he’d know, Victoria.”

“Actually, I wasn’t born blind.” Isaiah opened his eyes and smiled. “But I do need you to keep quiet and not interrupt me.”

Victoria found herself blushing. “Sorry.”

The psychic closed his eyes again. “Ah… there it is. It was forged in honor, and yet, it was used to stab friends and family… even lovers… spouses… and every time it tasted blood that way, its anger grew…”

Sylvia took a deep breath. “How can a… knife… be angry?”

“Shh.” Victoria waved a hand at Sylvia. In spite of the way the atmosphere in the room had changed, grown more cold, Sylvia smiled.

“The anger,” Isaiah went on, “is not from the weapon. It’s from the victims. They left a tiny bit of themselves behind. Soaked into the metal on a level science will never, could never find. And it’s reached out into this family through the ages… Victoria, how did your mother die?”

Sylvia turned to look at Victoria, as the college freshman looked down at her hands. “She got sideswiped by a truck on a bridge. Her car went down in the river and she was trapped inside. She… she drowned.”

“And now your father is… ill?”

“Bad case of food poisoning.” Sylvia studied the dagger in Isaiah’s hands. “Is… is it cursed?”

“In the most simple of terms, yes.” Isaiah turned it over one more time. “Its effects will not always be obvious, but it does not know the state of the world or even where it is. All it knows is its need for revenge. It will never be rid of it.”

“Then how do we get rid of it?”

Isaiah closed his eyes for a long moment. “If the dagger is undone in a way that knows no dishonor, the vengeance will have nowhere to go.”

Victoria furrowed her brows. “Why am I thinking about Lord of the Rings all of a sudden?”

“It’s a shame we don’t have any volcanos nearby.”

“No, but don’t we have that steel mill?”

Sylvia thought about it. “Yes. And they’re very proud that they’ve gone for months without an accident…”

“Which would be dishonor, right?”

Sylvia smiled, reached into her purse and laid some money on Isaiah’s table and plucked the dagger from his hands. “Thank you, Isaiah.”

“I look forward to your return. Oh, and Victoria… if you study too hard for physics, you won’t be rested enough to do well on the exam.”

Victoria blinked, then started to smile. “Wow. You’re the real thing, aren’t you?”

Isaiah smiled and shrugged. “I had to give up my dream of being an indy car driver and find something else to be good at.”

Victoria giggled, and Sylvia took her hand to lead her back to the car. The mill was a short drive away. They found a worker eating lunch outside, and Sylvia paid him a few hundred dollars to throw the dagger in.

They waited for half an hour. Victoria was starting to doubt it’d work, and then Sylvia’s phone rang.

Memento Mori

American flag

For two years running I’ve made the same post on Memorial Day, which starts something like this:

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” – George Santayana

We have the country we have today because people got pissed off enough to fight for it.

America’s military is based entirely on volunteer service. People enlist for various reasons, from pure-hearted desire to serve the country to paying for a college education. And those who can already afford college can embark upon a career as an officer right from the start. The important fact, though, is that none of it is compulsory. Nobody is making these young men and women sign up for service that could ultimately mean they’re going to die far from home, in some foreign land, possibly alone with no one to remember them save for a line item in a report listing them as “Missing In Action”.

Other countries compel their citizens to join the military from an early age. There’s no choice in the matter. Regardless of how you feel about your country, you’re going to be serving in its military. As much as I admire Heinlein, the idea of compulsory military service being the only route to citizenship is a pretty scary one. But unless I’m mistaken, no country has gone completely that far yet.

Here, though, every person who puts on that uniform, male or female, young or old, gay or straight, left or right, does so for the same reason. They want to serve. They chose to answer the call to duty. Nobody made them.
And if they died on a foreign shore, they did so as the ultimate result of that choice. As lonely, painful, cold and dark as it might have been for them, it is a deep hope of mine that they do not consider themselves forgotten.

We have not forgotten.

Read the rest here

It may seem we have forgotten to some veterans, though. If they make it home, they tend to bear scars, and not always obvious ones. It’s shamefully easier to sympathize with a soldier who’s lost a limb or suffered major facial trauma than it is one who seems intact in body but says nothing about what’s going on in his or her mind.

These are people who, because of a choice they made, have stared death in the face, and been told, ordered, demanded not to flinch.

We hold soldiers in high esteem. Most see them as brave or even fearless. But they’re human beings, just like you and me. They have our doubts, our fears, our weaknesses. They, like us, are mortal. They’re going to die, and some die on foreign shores because they’re told to be there.

They fight for us anyway, and that’s what makes them great, and worth remembering.

I don’t have any particular charity or cause to champion here, nor do I know how easily one can get to some place like Walter Reed to see what becomes of those who only partially make it home. All I ask is that you remember them, not just today, but every day.

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