‘Click on the linked names below for those particular games.....
Heartbreak Ridge.
March 7th 2003 – Wildboarclough High Intensity Games Research Facility.
This is the place where grown men become boys and boys discover that it’s no place for a boy to realise that he’s not a man…as well….as a boy…Oh well so much for all that James Ellroy, tough guy writing style. It’s Friday night and Dicken has driven Spiller and Kendall a couple of hundred miles through the most awful rain you can imagine to the middle of the Peak District (which is also known as the middle of bloody nowhere!). Dicken has struggled with inhuman patience as ‘Taxi Driver’ Spiller misread the directions three times and the intrepid threesome meandered back and forth along the same stretch of the A254, looking for a sign which they are reliably told in the written directions they should ignore!
Eventually they arrive at the holiday cottages.. sorry the gaming facility…. And they are greeted by the unwholesome sight of the waddling backsides of Roberts and Ellis, tramping along the pitch black road on their way back from the local hostelry. After much shouted but comradely abuse they provide the final half miles directions and the Eagle has landed.
The Ragnars are recreating the ritual, which used to be at least biannual until the fruit of too many Ragnar loins prevented such regular occurrences, of getting together with a bunch of mates and playing games and drinking beer for a whole weekend. Now some of you may say you deplore such overt examples of testosterone fuelled male bonding sessions but I can assure you that hardly any swearing and gender biased jokes and comments passed our lips… maybe a few thoughts were passed around on scraps of paper but that was a rarity and was frowned on by the majority.
So it was that the nine gathered, not to seek the ring bearer although Knitzia’s collaborative venture was on offer that weekend, but instead to game test two new game ideas from the Ragnars and also to compete with each other in the best of spirits over the course of about a dozen different games.
The first night was spent in reminiscence with considerable catching up on each others lives to be done. Introductions were made as Ian was a new gamer to many of us. Beer was drunk and several loaves of bread vanished into the toaster – a foretaste of what was to come! One game only was possible given the late hour and ‘Peanuts’got the thumbs up. This is a game of total gambling whereby an individual must risk and often lose large sums of money in order to ‘park up’ in a suitably high value space on the board. The higher the better as then you might even gain money from the other players. It’s a very light hearted game that is best with lots of players and easily adapts to accommodate nine. Kendall does particularly badly and Dicken is smug with his piles of money though it is Roger who wins the deciding token and snatches a victory from under the nose of the baying pack.
A few rounds of ‘Dalmuti’ are postponed for the morrow and the lads take to their beds.
The bleakness of the location is highlighted for those sleeping in the upper storey i.e. directly under the roof, by the wind nay gale howling across the slates. Dicken is kept awake for an hour or so and the morning sees him with tiredness etched in his features, but this is repaired considerably by copious quantities of tea and toast and then coffee and toast and then tea again. A bladder alert is announced by the wise old heads who are aware of the diuretic effects of tannin based beverages. Dicken poo poos this warning (excuse the reference) but later finds himself constantly excusing himself from the game of ‘Modern Art’that is running concurrently with ‘Merchants of Amsterdam’.
Dicken, Kendall, Roger and Slade (also known as the Beast of Bradford) get to grips with those dubious Works of Art and their anonymous Japanese telephone bidders. This is a game which combines a moderate grasp of mathematics with a fair sized chunk of second guessing and bluffing. Persuading your opponents to bid more than they should in the hope of getting that artist’s work into the top three in terms of value, is the order of the day. Very entertaining it is too, as it is difficult to predict who is winning. It is hard to keep track in your head of how much an individual is receiving for a particular work of art in comparison to how much someone else may gain from it’s final worth. All in all an excellent start to the day and Dicken enjoys a fine victory to raise his tired spirits and make all those trips to the loo worthwhile.
Meanwhile Ian , perhaps trading on the advantage of being an ‘unknown quantity’ completes a victory with the Dutch Auction timer – yes the damned thing is still working, much to Spiller’s amazement after the bashing it had during the game – Ian is a big lad and gave it a couple of good clouts!.
During the mornings gaming Ellis has been steadfastly setting up a figure wargaming extravaganza for us. He is painstakingly recreating the premier quality Italian fortifications at Tobruk (1941) on the entire floor of the living room. He has transported all his desert armour and troops plus scenery and six 2’ x 3’ sheets of MDF (DIY heaven)… well actually he forgot one sheet and had to improvise on a large piece of white paper …. But it still looked spectacular!
More of this in the next instalment of …. ‘Heartbreak Ridge’.
More from Heartbreak Ridge.
The view from beyond Heartbreak Ridge: a slightly late angle on a wet afternoon in March.
Ellis is renowned for bearing the torch of figure gaming amongst the Ragnars. Admittedly, the roots of the Ragnars (which increasingly resemble one of those Rock Family Trees – where exactly did Genesis begin, etc) were firmly embedded in wargaming – the boardgaming only coming as the length of time available for gaming dwindled. Cynics may refer to this as ‘having children’ but that would be churlish. Nevertheless, back to Ellis and his torch.
This afternoon’s extravaganza has been put together over a matter of weeks. The Ragnars are duly impressed that the total cost to Ellis has been over £70 – whistles of shock and surprise (ignoring the fact that two boardgames plus the postage would come to slightly more – Ed). It says much for the man that no mention of recompense is made. And, indeed, there is no end to the man’s lavish hospitality. To get said Ragnars ‘in the mood’ a suitable luncheon has been laid on – Bully beef, digestive biscuits and leaf tea without milk. It says much for the pangs of hunger that Phil is halfway through his Bully beef before it is pointed out that it is for purely photographic purposes.
So, photos taken and lunch consumed, it is to battle. Readers at this point must bear with the dim and, even at that time, addled recollections of the afternoon. Phil (as ‘Les’ Morehead the Australian commander) has indeed a veritable lorry load of minefields to secretly lay. Highpoint of the afternoon for him must surely be the first two German tanks to hit said minefield. For low point, take any one of two glasses of beer that he kicks over. (‘I mean who in their right mind envisaged nine full-grown thirty- and forty-somethings to be lying on the floor in a converted barn recreating the first battle of Tobruk????’) Phil, however, is not alone as at least two other glasses plus half a cup of tea further fertilise the thankfully ‘durable’ floor covering.
For those with anything more than a very loose recall of the actual battle, massive German artillery bombardments crashed down on Australian fortified positions. Slade notably proved just why he’s never won a Ford Fiesta by rolling dice at a country fete, managing to throw three 5's or 6's in about 20 rolls! The Allies began running a competition to see who would be next to fail to make a simple telephone call; Ellis, in the end, relented and allowed the massed reserves to pour on; Allied exultation ensued as heavy anti-tank fire wrecked the final German assault.
By five o’clock it was all over – the Germans, as ever, went into great detail as to why there was no realistic way they could possibly have won; the Allies put the difference down to cunning, guile and skill.
Time enough to squeeze in a quick game of ‘How much for that camel’. Read earlier how the Ragnars tinkered successfully with 'Peanuts'; read later how both Kendall and Phil’s new games accommodated the Nine. Truth is, not every one’s a winner. Camel laboured gamely, but shear weight of numbers proved decisive. Someone won, but no one was particularly bothered by that stage.
And on to Steve’s new one. Known as ** (censored) it proved an instant winner. Much hilarity. A satisfying conclusion. Nuff said. More anon.
And so to tea. Striding through the near-Stygian gloom of the Derbyshire hills the Ragnars reached the local pub with barely a dry foot amongst them (deep potholes – very treacherous). A pleasant repast followed, marred only by Dicken’s refusal to eat his slightly less than piping hot main course ("you’ve got to complain") – so apologetic was the manager that phasing in an offer of sleeping with his daughter, the use of the swivel chair and a new ice-cream maker might indeed have shortly been on the table.
And so to the final game for the day. It is to be 'Dalmuti' – a Ragnar tradition and much anticipated. (For those uninitiated, possibly the finest ‘any number of players’ card game ever – the more, the merrier). The fact that the game had been left back in London caused a brief hiccough, but Phil – as you do - produced three packs of cards from his rucksack and, lo and behold, voila. The only blemish on a fine end to the day being the Ragnars’ failure to get Slade into the greater peon’s chair, where the gloves can really begin to come off.
And so to bed. Weary, drunk, but happy, the Ragnars laid their heads on their pillows and slept the sleep of the dead. Thinking about it, it’s rare the chance comes along to spend an entire day gaming in excellent company, with good humour a-plenty and no gripes about losing – ah, you never know . . . perhaps one day.
Heartbreak Ridge - the Party’s over
And so to the final morning. No cockerel to greet the day, but rather the sound of Roberts turning the pages of his Sunday newspaper – the man can’t do anything quietly. Still, better than yesterday’s lecture on tectonic plates. Bacon sandwiches and piping hot tea are a welcome smell and sight as the Ragnar’s clamber down ladders and stone stairs to reach the stylish MFI kitchen. Thence to the living room where Ellis had spent the night after failing to find comfort aloft - mainly due to said Roberts simulating the breeding sounds of a Sperm Whale.
Frost on Sunday gives good opportunity for vitriolic scorn, particularly as it features the crusty duo of Claire Rayner and Stephen Norris. Roger joins the throng, sitting injudiciously in the middle of the sofa. A brief cry is heard before he plunges through (Ellis had done something in the night) and impressing everyone by pouring scalding hot tea into his shoe. Good of him to think of the carpet.
The group is to divides into two again and after some debate settle on playing ‘BattleCry’ (four players) and Kendall’s top secret nonsense. ‘BattleCry’ is a quite good stab at capturing the feel of the American Civil War as a board game. Troops are represented by decent quality 25mm plastic figures, in blue and gray of course and woods and rough terrain etc. comes in the form of hexagonal tokens the same size as the hexagonal movement 'zones'. 'Order' cards and occasional events are the means by which players determine the actions of the troops on the battlefield and as in our own 'Whipping Bobby Lee' simulates the command problems for the Generals of not being able to do as much as they like at any one time. This is not a cheap game coming in at around £45.00 but there are a lot of components and the production values are of a pretty high standard. It's an enjoyable hour or so's game as well! Kendall's production putters along quite nicely, with occasional rule changes being adopted with fair equanimity. Only Roger grumbles, but hey! he’s got a shoe full of tea.
As to ‘Battle Cry’ it seems to be taking forever with forces well entrenched and both sides playing cautious. It ends in dispute with one side claiming a draw for non-completion and the other claiming a victory by dint of most flags captured.
Time for a lunch of leftovers and a quick ‘Dalmuti’, then it’s back to the cars after much last minute photography and pressing of hands.
It has been splendid. It will be done again. But first, there’s Iraq to worry about.....
|
