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'Attila' - 16/02/01
News from the Far North:
(Note: for the sake of continuity, Kendall will still be Kendall, Phil will still be Phil)
The much-maligned Phil is holding a Sunday evening bash. The timing is no coincidence. Apparently, one team of people in helmets have now beaten another team of people in helmets and the Superbowl is over for another year. This means Roger, Dave and Ian can leave their respective houses on a Sunday night without having to be home before the clock strikes nine. Roger arrives bearing something wrapped in a plastic bag. "What's in the bag, Roger?"; but Roger is the soul of discretion. Curiously, 'it' (whatever 'it' is) goes home at the end of the evening, still in its plastic bag. Still wrapped in mystery. Strange.
Kendall has had thoughts about the morality of buying games for Phil. And yes, it is true that Kendall filches them south on a regular basis ( for a bit of variety ) but they do actually get played by Phil. And now is that time. In the winter months, between the Superbowl and the time when people in helmets begin driving round the Hamburger Ring and other such places.
Kendall's latest present to Phil was 'Attila'. This is fortunate, because that is what is being played tonight. The board is opened out. Dave's remark as to who turned out the lights is ignored. It is true that the board is rather dark, but then this is the Dark Ages. Roger likes the little wooden cubes and takes bets on which game Phil has taken them from. The answer is Attila. The wooden army pieces are curious little heads and shoulders looking for all the world like something out of Spy Ring (you remember men in trilby hats, mmm?, pieces of wire pushed into their heads, 'putting up their aerials' ; the sort of learning experience that helped forge the Ragnars). No one can quite work out what the pieces represent, but all agree they're nice, chunky and colourful. Roger takes pains to set them out in neat rows. And on to the game.
The reading of the Rules. Gone are the days when the reading of the Rules could take approximately three-quarters of an hour, usually delivered in a steady monotone, oblivious to the heckling of the audience, "I've already told you it's only 2MPs to leave a rigid ZOC when you're on a major road in a forest", etc. As age takes a hold, rules don't stick in the same way. This is probably a Good Thing. The reading of the Rules to Attila is refreshingly brief. Phil is puzzled and actually goes through the booklet again to see if he has missed anything out. He has not. In simplest terms, you score points for the size of each tribe you control. In your turn, you play one card (from your hand of six) in support of one tribe, place a piece onto the board and move your marker up that tribe's influence track. Next player. (It does mean that if you get distracted it's next to impossible to know what a particular person has done). When scoring occurs (four times in the game), top dog in each tribe gets one point per piece in play, number two gets one point per province occupied by that tribe, and everyone else gets nothing. Incredibly simple.
In the later parts of the game, you score influence in huge dollops, bonus markers get played (allowing things such as a double turn), and wars become more and more common (in which you play with great tactical cunning or simply hurl fistfuls of useless cards away). But there isn't that much more. And this is also a Good Thing. It's very reassuring to know there are no rules tucked away, waiting to leap out and mug you.
In the actual game, Phil spends much time as that unfortunate species 'The Tall Poppy But Only By A Few points'; Ian and Roger are convinced that they have understood the subtleties of the game, but can't work out why they haven't won; Dave is quietly smug at powering home by a considerable margin in the final burst of scoring. Everyone agrees that, yes, contrary to the United Nations Charter, it is a good idea to start wars. The game has gone remarkably well for a first outing.
Further bloodshed then ensues in a first outing for 'Battle Cry' . Gettysburg Day 3 is the inevitable scenario. At this point it is always possible to tell who is the true die-hard rebel. It's Ian. When he hears those magic words 'Pickett's Charge' he doesn't respond like any sane person and say "Oh dear, Oh no", it's "Let's give it a go and see if we can manage it!"(whatever it is). Roger is Pettigrew (slightly chewed from Day 1). Phil and Dave sit on their ridge and make nice, neat lines with the Army of the Potomac.
More on 'Battle Cry' on a later occasion (briefly, a fast miniatures-style game, played out on a 13 x 9 hex grid with added terrain features, using a neat card system to simulate command). Suffice it to say, a cracking good game ensues. A rebel attack in the centre drives the Union boys back from their line of fences. Blue reinforcements scurry in from either flank. The Reb centre falls back to the shelter of the woods. Gibbon and Hays exchange firm handshakes and glasses of extra strong ale. Pettigrew and the rebel left suddenly explodes into frenzied action. The Union line reels back, but then firms up a final line and chews Pettigrew some more. At which point Pettigrew gets lucky on a do-or-die roll and takes out the necessary sixth Union flag. Excellent entertainment, right down to the Rebel sharpshooter picking off Hays. Not too heavy, but plenty to think about.
And then supper, 'Sequence' and the end of a cracking good evening's gaming.
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