Arkham Horror LCG Review

As of the writing of this blog post, the town of Arkham is in serious trouble. Monsters stalk the streets. Cultists, who have infiltrated every aspect of regular life, are working toward an unknown agenda. And, right at the stroke of midnight, as the cultists are about to unveil their plan, the only man who had any idea of what was going on, Roland Banks, has collapsed into a gibbering mess on the ground. Turns out that the town government was in on... whatever is going on. And it's too much for Roland Banks, FBI agent, to take. Time is running out. Someone else has to step up. But who?

I'd been eyeing Arkham Horror the LCG for years. I mean, how could I not? I love narrative. I can't get enough of it. So, when I found I really enjoyed FFG's newest LCG, Marvel Champions, and when Arkham Horror's core set dropped to about half of what it normally was, I kinda figured why not? I really enjoy the gameplay loop of Marvel Champions, where you discard cards  from your hand to get your stuff out. I'm a sucker for loss and damage, and that game delivers that sorta thing in every move you make.

I got a hell of a lot more than I bargained for.

First off, the core gameplay is enormous, yet claustrophobic. You accomplish tasks in this game by doing a skill check, by and large. There are tokens in what's called The Chaos Bag (which for the moment is more like The Chaos Cup, no bag included in box), that can either give a bonus, penalty, or something else completely random. Cards in your hand can give bonuses to these checks, to help offset what's usually a bad draw from the Bag/Cup; you can certainly "commit" more of these cards, as you wish. There's four different difficulty settings to this bag: Easy Standard, Hard, and Expert. I tried my first game on Easy... and was disappointed. I didn't have to engage with the system all that much. So the next game I upped it to Standard and had a much better time. There's a tight system of choices in this game and, while it seems forgiving (at least at first), you'll find yourself in a world of hurt if you don't take the time to stop, think, and play the right cards.

The second thing that you have going on is the Agenda and Act Decks. Agenda decks are the bad stuff, Act decks the good. You are trying to get through the Act Deck before you get to the Agenda Deck, and may God help you if you fail. Interestingly enough, there is always the option to quit, so that way the big and awful thing doesn't happen. Doing things that further the Act Deck usually give you experience, which you can use to modify your character's deck. The Agenda always has a resource called Doom being generated, which reminds me of Threat in Marvel Champions, except this stuff can be attached to characters and it still counts to advancing the Agenda Deck. Yikes. And, at least from what I can right now, there's not much of a way to stop that advancing Doom, which is accumulating each turn.

And the third "important thing" (there are many) is the the fact that you are traveling between locations in the scenario, each represented by its own card. Now, this requires you to have some actual space to accommodate the locations, but so long as you're willing to bunch up locations that you're not using you can actually fit the game into a very small space, if need be. It's not ideal, but it can be done. Each location has a number of Clue Tokens (which are used to advance your Act Deck, by and large) and a Shroud Value, which is how difficult it is to get those Clue Tokens. Once you harvest that area Clues generally don't come back, so you're supposed to move on.

When you take these three primary elements and mesh them together you get a system of exploration, stress, and hard choices, with an actual release valve should things get stupidly difficult. With campaign play all these things coalesce into an engine that delivers pure narrative. Certain things carry over and inform the narrative. 

I'm currently sitting here, looking at the characters that I have to choose from so Arkham can be saved. I have to start all over. None of the goodies I'd gotten from using Roland transfer over. Instead of a triumphant attack on the cult, someone else is going to have to pick up the pieces and pull some amazing moves. Am I up to the task? Can Arkham be saved? Regardless of those answers, the ride is so much fun that I almost don't care.

Risk Legacy: War One

This is a series of play reports for Risk Legacy. There are SPOILERS. You have been warned

So we all decided we want to play Risk Legacy. This was something I had been wanting to do for a long time, so I was really excited finally play! A Legacy board game! The holy grail, as far as i was concerned. We sat down, picked factions and abilities, and this is what we got. Names not changed cause we're all guilty as hell.

Nathan- Imperial Balkania: when recruiting troops round up, not down, began in Argentina.

Logan- Saharan Republic: when maneuvering the territories need not be connected. Began in Ural.

Ben- Khan Industries: at the start of each turn place one troop in each HQ you own. Began in Indonesia (and goes first).

Matt-  Enclave of the Bear: on the first battle against an opponent they have a -1 penalty to their lower defensive dice roll. Began in Northwest Territories.

The following resource cards were upped to two resources apiece:

Madagascar, Yakutsk, Ural, Mongolia, Brazil, South Africa, North Africa, Russia, Peru, Siberia, Alaska, Egypt

Years One and Two Saw each of the factions expanding as fast as they could. We got the rules wrong in these first two rounds and thought we could only expand one territory per round.

In Year Three we realized our error. But by that point Khan Industries had become a monstrosity. They expanded acrost Europe and all the way into Africa. Enclave of the Bear charged the Imperial Balkania in Venezuela, who had taken all of South America. Despite being outnumbered two to one Enclave conquered Venezuela and Brazil. Imperial's counter-surge was powerful, pushing up into Central America. Saharan Republic did not take advantage of Khan Industries' overextension and expanded into Europe.

Year Four's carnage was total. Khan, ignored and thus a true force to be reckoned with, charged through Africa and took Imperial's HQ, stopping short of completely wiping them out, leaving them a foothold in Central America. The Enclave did that for them, wiping Imperial off the map and taking their resources. They didn't go down without a fight, however. Imperial salted the earth and destroyed all the natural resources of Central America, creating an Ammo Shortage and making the place much harder to defend. Imperial Balkania reformed in Greenland and kept their heads low. The Saharan Republic finally attacked its neighbor, Khan Industries. They pushed north from Ural, and rooted Khan out of Australia. They then retreated back to their HQ in Ural.

But the damage was done. Khan had more than enough forces to completely wipe The Enclave out of its HQ in Year Five, grabbing its resources. All they had to do was survive long enough to capitalize them. A formal alliance with Sahara ensured their victory. They then tried to wipe out Imperial Balkania in Greenland, even going so far as to salt the earth in Greenland, creating an Ammo Shortage. But Balkania could not be budged. They completely wiped out the attacking force, at the cost of losing almost all their troops. The Enclave reformed in Eastern Canada, hoping to survive a little bit longer. Imperial Balkania only reinforced their troops, not daring to leave Greenland. Sahara finally eliminated Balkania, who were too worn out with their war with Khan to fight back. Sahara then eliminated The Enclave.

Khan used its resources to make its hold on the planet total, for the moment. The people of Australia, even though occupied by a foreign force, named themselves the Baby Guns, after the two things Khan mass produced. Sahara founded a city named Phillipines in Yakutsk. Balkania and Enclave went to ground, planning their revenge.

The war would continue, even if it took decades to get there.

The Undertow: Session Three

Mikansia: The female elven Sword Singer, played by Lena. Mikansia was pushed off of their floating island by her friend, Jabez, so that way she could go and find her father, the evil Krakeru, without breaking her oath to The White Tower. She's currently on an elven ship that is commandeered by smuggler humans. Oh joy.

Firstsword Yngvar: Mikansia's first-line officer, present at her disciplinary hearing. Silent guy.

Lore: The Iron Forest, which is where Elfharrow is, is an actual forest of trees that are made of living metal. The ecosystem has adjusted. It's not a nice place.

The smugglers flew their stolen ship almost as well as any elf. Belting out line after bawdy line, they flew the ship with an enthusiasm that was as endearing as their singing was disturbing. Even the bawdiest of elves would not have thought of some of the things that these... humans... were proudly singing at the top of their lungs about elven anatomy, as well as how their melancholic nature prevented them from truly loving the... finer... things in life. Essentially, the smugglers left Mikansia alone. They flew the vessel and sang. And she sat in the back and wondered what the hell was going on.

They finally got to the snow-covered surface and Mikansia hopped out. The captain bowed to her and thanked her for being such an easy cargo, given the payment. One of the smugglers held up Jabez's sword. The captain thanked him for catching it as they flew through the air. Taken aback, Mikansia asked why they had Jabez's sword, which he had intended to turn in to become an officer. The captain told her that the sword would sell for a small fortune for them, being that it was elven work. Mikansia found herself asking if she could swap her sword for Jabez's. They were both elven work, so how would that affect the selling price? The captain reflected a moment, and said the buyer certainly wouldn't know the difference. He grabbed Jabez's sword and came back to her. They exchanged swords as the exact same time, at his insistence. With a tip of his cap jumped back aboard his ship. They were off, starting that ridiculously bawdy song all over again.

Mikansia smiled, shook her head, and began to take stock of her surroundings. It was a clear, dry, cold night. The moon shimmered on the iron trees and leaves, with a soft glow emanating off of the forest. The forest cut behind her to the south and went to the northwest. The east and north was an open snow plain, receding into the dark. Somewhere in the forest Mikansia could hear a metallic cough, followed by a belch. It repeated itself a couple of times. Soon after Mikansia heard another cough and belch, in response. They went back and forth for a long time. Looking to the north Mikansia saw campfires, probably ten miles out. That was probably Elfwatch, the human fort  that Mikansia had heard of in her briefings on Elfharrow. They would probably be a good resource, she thought.

Mikansia crept north slowly, carefully, painstakingly, until the morning light crept over over the horizon. She was in sight of the fort. An elven ship came flying lower over the forest, the emblem of the White Tower emblazoned on its side. Mikansia crept along under it, towards Elfwatch. The ship flew off, over the forest.

When she got to the gate of Elfwatch a warning shot was fired from the wall. Mikansia was ordered to halt. She obeyed, and tried to explain her situation the best she could, but it was useless. She was an elf. They were not going to listen to her. A group of soldiers came out and knocked her out. Mikansia did not resist.

She woke up a few hours later. She was unarmed and in a cell, with no one in the cell with her. But she wasn't alone. Outside of her cell sat a man, staring at her. He didn't say anything. He just gazed at her. And Mikansia tried to ignore it.

Someone eventually came into the jail area, snorted in derision at "Lerance", and told him to get out, shoving him out the door. He sat down, apologized, and introduced himself as Pierre, the man who had disobeyed orders and not shot her dead when told to. He wanted to hear her story, now that she as no longer in danger of being shot. But he'd better be straight with her, otherwise he'd let Lerance back in, open the door to her cell, lock the jail door, and try not to mind the screams of yet another dark elf. Giving the name "Miekonnen", Mikansia told Pierre about her quest to Krakeru, the elf who had destroyed her family. She wasn't a dark elf, she didn't want to harm anyone at the fort, she just wanted Krakeru.

Getting up, Pierre put his chair under the knob of the door. Looking back at Mikansia's concerned expression he chuckled, apologized for how that looked, and took the chair away. He came up close to the shell and pulled up his shirt.

The ugliest scar Mikansia had ever seen stared out at her.

It had healed over, but it had a bubbly texture to it, even now... Pierre told her that Krakeru had done that, right on the field of battle, as if he'd just stopped for a little break. The things Krakeru had done to get that scar to look how it did would haunt Pierre for the rest of his days.

The shouts that a flying ship was coming into the fort leaked through the door. Pierre went back outside. Mikansia smiled as the soldiers talked about what legendary warriors those of The White Tower were. After a few minutes Pierre came back in. He explained that a certain Yngvar was looking a "Mikansia", but since the guards didn't know of a Mikansia they'd sent him packing. Pierre said he realized how personal this was for now, and that it was just as personal to him. Pierre was going to break "Miekonnen" out of prison, and they would go off to kill Krakeru, because Pierre knew where he was. And he was excited to get them there.

How to GM: Pacing

One of the hardest parts of running a game is trying to make sure the story is paced correctly. Unlike a novel, board games, or video games, TTRPGs can be incredibly collaborative, and are thus harder to pace. This is because of the number one problem (and advantage) in most RPGs: the GM.  RPGs are entirely relational constructs, which means that everyone at the table has to be in sync and capable of bending to each other. The GM, being (usually) the designated director of the narrative, has the unenviable position of making sure that everyone acts in concert, all the time. Fortunately there's a few good ways to make sure this happens: stick to your themes and genre, know what the players expect, respond but don't react, and feed as much as you can back into the mechanics of your game. All of my advice comes from the assumption that you are trying to do a collaborative narrative.

The first point is vital: stick to your thematic and genre guns.  Role-playing games are an interpersonal exercise and you, as the GM, are the designated point of unity for your group. It is for their own good that you stick to what you set up for yourself. It is the player's duty to bend, but not break, in the direction of your themes and the genre. And it is very important that they only bend. The GM is not there to take away choices; a GM'd game is meant to have him be the lightning ground of the group. But the GM needs to incorporate player input. He cannot run the players over. Take what the players do and weave it back in. Draw straight with what you think are crooked lines, but do not erase them.

Player expectation is only second to sticking to your guns because the GM has to know what he wants before he's able to communicate it. But, once the GM knows what he wants, he has to communicate it.  You cannot run a narrative game without player feedback and communication.

No, I'm not going to bend on that.

Interpersonal rules of communication and trust will always be hard and fast rules, in any game, and if you're blindsiding players (as opposed to surprising, which in this case means playing inside the bounds you and the players set up) you have made a critical error, one of which I heartily recommend stopping the session to talk about. And yes, if you blindside your players, you should be fully prepared to change what you did. It's not fair to them to go outside what they agreed to, not without warning.

With those two guidelines (stick to your guns and know what the players expect) we come to the third point: feed it all back into the mechanics of your game. Mechanics are the medium through which all decisions go. Even denying "but this doesn't need mechanics" means that you've made a mechanical choice, in the form of denying existing mechanics. Now, that's not necessarily a bad decision, to jettison the pre-established mechanics of the game. Sometimes things happen and you find yourself in a weird spot where your game just cannot cover what you want need it to. Mechanics are tools, not straight jackets, after all. But if you find yourself constantly making new tools to add to the box then why not just play a different game? If you're constantly getting into world-ending arguments, where people want to be able to nail the nitty-gritty of negotiations into something mechanical , then why are you playing a game that doesn't have that in the toolbox? Anyway, whatever thing does wind up happening, plug it back into the mechanics of your game as fast as possible, where the players can address it on even ground. Always try to tie your plans into the mechanically rich and enticing bits for your players. Let those mechanical interactions guide your plot, that's what they're there for. Think of the mechanics kind of like a calculator: you plug your equation in, but you can't expect the calculator to do the work of figuring out the equation in the first place. You don't bring half an equation to a calculator, but once you plug that sucker in sit back and accept the results.

All of this requires being able to think on your feet, to respond instead of react to the players. Part of responding to players means to not let emotions get in the way. This is because players can really surprise you. If you need to take a second to say "Holy crap, I did NOT expect that" then do it! It's fine! You get to sit back and laugh in disbelief! Hell, congratulate the person who threw you for a loop. Whatever not-toxic thing that lets you get the reaction out of the way so that way you can respond is what should be done. A GM usually has his hands into so many pieces of the game that a flippant response is almost always a bad move, as he sits at the center of the narrative. You get to have that moment to go "Wow, I have no idea what the hell to do". The additional vulnerability also gives you more leeway for when you do make a mistake, because you have communicated to the players that you are not above them. Granted, you've got a few more responsibilities, but you are not God. That means that, whenever you do respond, they will get to see someone doing the same thing as them: a dude playing a game and having a blast.

It sounds a bit abstract, but if there's anything I would tell a new GM about pacing it would be to stick to their core themes and genre, corralling the other players into the fold as best you can (and should), stay within player expectations (don't kill puppies in a silly game about pound puppies), respond but don't react, and always put things back into the mechanics, so that way players can interact with it and thus morph that situation into something new. If you keep these principles in mind your ability to keep the game moving at a good clip, not too fast but not too slow, will improve pretty significantly.

Reflections on The Veins of the Earth

Somewhere, deep deep down in my heart, there is an opening. A tear. A lesion. Something deliciously foul is down there, and it beckons to me, by its existence I am pulled. Peering into the abyss, I don't see anything. But I can feel it, whatever it is. It calls. I crawl down, not sure what to expect. And no, I'm not sure I ever could have explained it. But what I've found down there has always terrified, intrigued, and enamored me, in equal rotating twisting parts, flapping in the slight breeze like skin on a clothesline of intestine. I never once thought these places could be described.

And then I held Mr. Stuart's book in my hands. I stared into the blackness, once more.

A shudder came over me. I could feel the figure on the cover, I could hear his scream in my mind. I knew why he was screaming. He wasn't screaming because he was falling. Falling is nice. Falling is fun. I was jumping off of high dives when I was four, if not younger. I was jumping off of porches at two, over and over and over and over and over. I'm surprised my poor mother still has a beating heart, now that I think on it. But, even now, it's still fun! I still jump from stairways when I think no one is watching, just to feel the sensation.

It's the landing that's awful.

My bones, older than they were then, hurt, even if it's just a little bit, when I land now.

And I'm not falling anymore. I find that I miss it.

It's tragic.

He knows he's going to hit the ground and hurt. 

I opened the book and my pulse stopped, for just a millisecond. Patrick Stuart had crawled through the hole too. He's seen it. He knows. For years, decades, I assumed, in my flaming arrogance, that I was the only one who had found it and managed to keep anything resembling sanity. But that was done by trying to pretend that it didn't exist, by throwing up defenses that never worked but I wanted them to work so why shouldn't they? Why shouldn't it work? If I don't look at it it isn't real. The rest of the world can get away with it, so why not me?

I think he stared straight in, and wrote down what he saw. I'm not sure how. I'm in awe of it.

Perhaps the strangest thing was seeing the Aelf-Adal, his take on dark elves. I'd seen them. I'd met them. Somehow. Don't ask me how that works, but they're real in a way that you and I are not. I know that sounds crazy, but they're something way deep down in our consciousness. For all these years that I've run games I've hinted at their existence, to myself and others. But that was all I could stand. It was all I could do. I knew the deRO, the gnonmen, all the others in this tome. I looked at them and realized that all he'd done was name what he'd found, down where the soul leaks rivers of ash and gaseous bile. They weren't my names for these entities or concepts or archetypes or what-have-you. But they were the same things, whatever they are.

I think he put down a flag in the darkness and sat there until he could write it all down.

I cannot recommend this book enough to others. There's a lot that's useful here, even if it makes the skin crawl, which can be quite good for one's soul. It's good to be reminded of the madhouse we're in at times. I don't innately see this as a horror work and would not recommend it as such. Horror is too banal for what this book does, by and large. No, this is properly a part of fantasy, which is the older genre, from which horror takes its roots. It's a danse macabre, and that's good for people, in the proper doses.

I think a healthy dose of danse macabre is more than what most people think it is.

At some point I'll write an actual review on the book. Y'know, go through its mechanical bits and why they're awesome, talk about his veins generating toolkit and why it's amazing, and talk more about these monsters that cause nostalgia in parts of me that I never thought could feel such an emotion. It's a shame I don't really connect with the OSR movement all that much, cause I'd go for Lamentations of the Flame Princess hardcore, but those are not my mechanical and philosphical leanings. Fortunately most folks don't say no to money. This book will definitely get mine.

I'm not sure one should run from what's down in the lesion.

Alternate Worlds and Burning Wheel, Rough Draft: Part One, The Underground

By Aged Pixel

At one point I tried to run a Burning Wheel campaign where the players were kidnapped to Faerie. While the game's narrative was... alright (getting ready to be deployed made me a bit distracted).. I was not very satisfied with Burning Wheel on a mechanical level for dealing with going to a different world. Faerie didn't feel very different from the world the players came from. And it wasn't that I was trying to get the system to do different stuff than usual: set Beliefs, challenge, and resolve. A huge part of the setting for my Burning Wheel games that I've not yet really explored is how integral the underground is to it. We walk on a solid wave, with an endless ocean of stone beneath. But I've avoided those jaunts below the surface, because I want those places to feel legitimately alien. I hadn't thought of it then, but I think that means the mechanics have to shift a bit.

Now, the next part I'm going to make giant and bolded, in case it gets missed.

None of this is tested. This is a rough rough rough rough draft.

 Got it?

Cool.

A lot of my ideas are adapted from the brilliant and haunting "The Veins of the Earth" by Patrick Stuart. In fact, if you haven't read it just drop what you're doing and give the man the money he deserves for such a fantastic book. And then read it. It's superlative. I'm sure he'd love a dirty storygamer stealing his ideas, but I highly doubt he'd come for my mechanics, given that they're dirty storygame mechanics

THE DIVIDE IS REAL FOLKS. I'M A DIRTY OSR THIEF. COME GET ME.

Going Underground

Beliefs

Whenever you go underground you must rewrite two of your Beliefs: one to address what you see when the darkness comes in, and the other one about the person you're near who's holding the torch. If you're the person holding the light source this Belief should be about what you think of holding the torch. The previous Beliefs have artha awarded for attempting or completing them, and play commences.

Lumes

The concept is stolen directly from Stuart's book: light is time is money. Essentially Lumes are a specific personal tracker of how much light generating potential you have. Don't have light in the pitch black of the underworld? I don't have hard numbers in place yet, but I'm thinking at least +3 Ob, to almost any action that involves moving around in the dark.

Lumes are an abstract measurement of how much supplies you have for light. It's usually oil, but could be other things. After you do any action roll the Die of Fate: If you roll lower than your Lume rating the Lume rating decreases by 1. If you roll a 1 the light source goes out and needs to be re-lit. At Lume 0 your light source goes out and you may not relight it without finding a Lume to sacrifice.

To increase your Lume rating you must pass a Resources test. Obstacle is equal to the difference between your desired Lume rating and the Lume rating you have now (Lume 6 - Lume 4 is an Ob 2 Resource test). Lume takes a number of inventory slots equal to its rating.

Inventory

I know I know, I said inventory in a Burning Wheel game!! Please come back! It matters here! Like, a lot. Go spelunking for five minutes and you'll see that's it's a matter of life and death. Before you go underground add up all your Stat exponents and divide it by 2, rounded down (Power B3, Forte B4, Agility B6, Speed B3, Will B3 and Perception B5 gives you 10 Inventory). Items take a number of Inventory Slots equal to the number of hands required to hold them. I need to come up with harder numbers than this, but that puts everyone at not quite enough stuff, which is the point.

Cracks

When you're spelunking you're going to have to crawl through some tight spaces. This requires a Speed test. Players with an Inventory rating higher than the Obstacle the GM assigns may not attempt the test. Players with an Inventory rating equal to the Obstacle roll the Die of Fate when crawling through: if a 1 is rolled then the player must sacrifice a random piece of equipment from their Inventory to complete the test.

Reflexes

Characters who are with someone with a light source (or holding a light source) get +1 Reflexes. Characters without that light source get -1 Reflexes.

Putting It All Together

It is imperative that the reading understand the following: none of this matters if it doesn't challenge a Belief. Burning Wheel is not a simulator, nor should it be. All this does is give some additional wrinkles to scenes you already know how to run. That being said, don't be shy about handing out these types of tests while you're underground. You want players taking too much down and then pushing it through tight cracks, ahead of them. You want them having to figure out what to do when the last Lumes source broke by accident. These can be really challenge and dramatic moments, and the GM should lean on them, given that the campaign's underground. Used well, these rules should give a very different feel for those who are journeying around, in the veins of the world.

Risk Legacy: First Impressions

I've been wanting to play this game for years. Back in college I'd gotten it to play with my RPG group... and we played one game. That's it. One. I'm not sure why, cause the game intrigued me! Part of it may have been that this was my first explosion of interest in RPGs. I was neck deep in Burning Wheel and couldn't quite move onto anything new. Or maybe I'd had enough of moving things around on a map (*sighs* oh 4e). Maybe it didn't click with the group? I don't know. Whatever it was, it wasn't until a few months ago that I began to feel the hankering for this game again. So I went and pulled out my copy.

MY BLOODY FAMILY HAD GONE AND PLAYED A GAME WITHOUT TELLING ME.

BABY SISTER?

BROTHER?

BROTHER'S FRIEND, WHO UP UNTIL THIS POINT WAS ALRIGHT IN MY BOOK???

Thank you, Dr. Cox, for your continued brilliance.

So I apologized to my board gaming group. I had talked the game up to them and now we couldn't use the board! There was just too much stuff. One of my buddies said that he'd buy it. And that was that!

So what's the game like?

Well, they added a new victory condition: getting four red stars. This is a much easier thing to do than standard Risk, where you have to wipe everyone else out. Now, granted, you can still do that, but it's going to be easier on everyone concerned if you're going for those stars. There are now stickers that you can put on the map, which grant differing bonuses or penalties to the area. You start with two: Ammo Shortage (which makes defense rolls harder) and Stronghold (which makes defense rolls easier). There are more.

Let's get to that, shall we?

Most of the game box has a ton of compartments in it, which are all hidden, with conditions for opening them. Almost none of them make sense. At least, not immediately. I wonder what's in them. This longing for knowledge drives the game forward, creating an addictive cycle not unlike the first time I tasted mulled wine and realized that I would never have a house without it, ever again. What, you've never had mulled wine?

Dude. Drop what you're doing and go get it. NOW.

Got a cup?


Isn't it delicious????

You're welcome!

OK, so opening up the box is terrifying. "What's done can never be undone" is the first thing you see as you open the box. Oh, and then the players have to claim responsibility for screwing up that world. You then choose factions (yeah, there's factions here. They're important. And awesome), as well as their ability from two different choices... and then tear up the other one. Yeah. It's an intimidating opening. It's amazing.


Now, the thing is that the first game is pretty normal Risk, albeit faster. You could probably play in about a half hour, assuming you follow the mostly-clear rulebook. And you'll place your stickers and name something. And it feels great. And you'll do it again. Except you'll find that the game feels a bit different. Those stickers change things up. And you'll find that things are starting to feel heavier. Nastier. And you'll want to keep opening those compartments. Cause that's crack. And you'll do it again. And again. And again. And all of a sudden you'll realize that you're playing a very different game.

Yeah, that feeling starts right at session two.

So, after we're done with the full campaign I'll write up an actual review. Spoilers coming ahead!