Unplugged

When it comes to dividing the “casual” board gamer from the “serious” (some might suggest “elitist”) gamer, the dividing line is usually clear: dice and the lack thereof. Dice are essentially the embodiment of blind, uncontrollable luck. While very few games are completely devoid of the element of luck, many of the best do as much as they can to make its impact minimal and thus maximize strategy.

This doesn’t make games that heavily rely on dice un-fun, however. Consider the classic game of Yahtzee, which is essentially just a series of poker hands played with dice. As you play Yahtzee, you are completely at the mercy of luck every time you roll; the most you can do is reduce the impact by making accurate assessment of the odds of rolling what you need/want. Failing that, you have to make the strategic decision of where to place your (possibly sub-optimal) roll on the scoresheet. There isn’t a whole lot of control to be found in Yahtzee, and yet it has endured as a family favorite for decades.

To Court the King takes many of the elements found in Yahtzee and gives you an additional degree of control over your fate. The ultimate object of TCtK is to roll (at least) seven-of-a-kind and win the attention of the King; the catch is that you begin with the ability to roll only three dice. In order to work your way up to the King, you first need to win the influence of lesser members of the court and work your way up the social ladder.

The members of the court are represented by illustrated cards not unlike those found in a collectible card game like Magic: the Gathering. Each card has two symbols on it: the combination (or in some cases, total) of dice needed to recruit the character, and the effect the character allows you to employ once per turn. These effects include giving you an additional die (or two) to roll initially, rerolling one or more dice without counting against you, adding a die of a specific value, or modifying (if not outright fixing) the values of rolled dice. Each time you roll, you must set at least one die in reserve before rerolling; other than that restriction, you can reroll as often as your total of dice allows. You can also only recruit a given character once, with the exception of the Fool, who is the “Chance” result of this game and can be recruited with any result, allowing you to reroll a single die; if you are unfortunate enough to recruit him the second time, he turns into the Charlatan, who instead allows you to roll an additional die. The final wrinkle is that there are a limited number of each character available, depending on the number of players; characters obviously become increasingly rare as you move up the hierarchy.

The combined result is a fast-paced series of rolls, using your assembled host of characters to claw your way up to capture the King’s attention with a magnificent seven-of-a-kind. The first player to accomplish this automatically earns the right to use the Queen (who lets you add one die of any value) and triggers the Final Round. Each player, in turn, gets one more chance to out-do the current “top roll”. For example, if the Final Round was initated with a roll of seven fours, the next player would need to roll either seven fives, seven sixes, or eight (or more) of anything; this continues down the line, with each player trying to best the current high roll, ending with the player controlling the Queen. Whoever has the highest roll after his last chance wins both control of the King and the game.

Even with the characters’ various abilities, the game is still dominated by luck. As soon as someone has access to seven dice, the threat of the Final Round being initiated becomes very real. If you don’t have enough dice to compete when that time comes, you effectively get eliminated right away without a final chance, which can be disheartening.

One of the nice benefits of being so heavily reliant on luck is that anyone can win with the right series of rolls, which makes games like To Court the King perfect for families and other casual gaming groups. There is no reading required, and very little actual math (unlike Yahtzee), so anyone old enough to not default to putting the dice in his/her mouth should be able to play successfully. To Court the King isn’t going to win any awards, but it will win over anyone who enjoys a quick game that anyone can play.

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Among the (unplugged) gaming community, there are few names as respected — or as prolific — as Reiner Knizia’s. The German designer has over 200 games on his resume, with 1997’s Tigris & Euphrates (T&E) considered his crowning achievement by many. T&E is a tile-laying game that encourages players to adopt a balanced approach to scoring victory points (VPs) as they attempt to wield the most influence in the cradle of civilization. While there are four categories of points, your final score is determined by your lowest score among them at the end of the game; for example, if you have collected 30 black VPs, 30 red VPs, 30 Blue VPs, but only 1 green VP, then your score is one and you will most likely finish dead last despite your dominance in the other three categories.

In order to achieve these victory points, you will need to place your Leaders and Civilization Tiles (henceforth just “tiles”) carefully using your two actions each turn; you can also use actions to discard tiles from your reserve and replace them or to place one of your two a space-negating Catastrophe Tiles. Each tile represents one area of a region, and each type (color) of area has its correspondingly-colored leader. When a tile is played adjacent to a kingdom (any area containing at least one leader), whoever controls the corresponding leader scores a VP of that tile’s color, regardless of who actually placed the tile; the black leader (“king”) can collect VPs of any color if the corresponding leader is not present in his kingdom.

There are three special plays that make things a bit more complicated than that: 1) Completing a 2×2 block of one color’s tiles creates a VP-generating Monument on top of them (and essentially removes those four tiles from play), which can be very powerful; 2) Placing a leader in a kingdom that already contains a leader of that same color triggers an internal conflict that will oust one of them from the kingdom (and board); and 3) uniting two kingdoms with a tile triggers external conflicts between their matching leaders and usually results in one half of the kingdom becoming devastated (and potentially massive VPs scored) in the war. Conflicts are resolved by the two players in question discarding tiles from their reserves and adding those to the leaders’ respective strength in the kingdom; ties go to the defending player.

At the end of each player’s turn, all players replenish their reserves until they have six tiles. The game ends and VPs are scored either when the last tile is drawn or then fewer than three Treasures remain on the board. Treasures are “wild” VPs claimed by the green leader (“trader”) when there are two or more Treasures in a given kingdom; one Treasure remains and the owner of the trader takes the rest. Players may arrange any Treasures they have earned in whatever way they choose for scoring purposes. In the event of a tie for the lowest total, the next-lowest totals of the tied players are checked, and so on until the tie is broken.

The game pieces themselves are every bit as solid as the mechanics, with heavy cardboard tiles, wooden VP cubes characteristic of European titles (small one-pointers and larger five-pointers), and wooden Monuments that really catch attention (and need some slight assembly). The thin cardboard screens that hide both a player’s reserve tiles and accumulated VPs aren’t that impressive, however, but they serve their purpose; they also have convenient reminders as to what actions are allowed on your turn and brief summaries of both types of conflict. Rounding out the package are two sets of rules, one detailed and the other brief.

While most players will grasp the basics of the game quickly due to the simple mechanics, the deeper strategies take some time to develop, especially where conflicts are concerned; my group generally allows takebacks if a newer player makes a misplay like forgetting how the conflicts work. There is a frustrating element of randomness when it comes to which tiles are drawn, but I consider that one of those necessary evils that encourage adaptability and strategy; besides, sometimes the Gods just aren’t on your side. Aside from that and the limited number of players (three or four; rules variants can also be found for two), I can’t find any faults with T&E and would highly recommend it to any gaming group that enjoys strategic games of this nature; it may not appeal to more casual gamers, but at around 90 minutes to play it couldn’t hurt to have them give it a try.

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Growing up, one of my favorite game shows was Press Your Luck; it was briefly reincarnated in the early 2000s under the name of its mascot, the Whammy — a playful little imp who delighted in taking away a contestant’s prize money should they be so unlucky to stop their “spin” on one of his spaces. The oft-repeated mantra of “No whammies, no whammies, no whammies… STOP!” has taken root in the pop culture lexicon, and you will frequently hear it invoked during playthroughs of Reiner Knizia’s Ra, a tile game combining an auction mechcanic with set-collection scoring system.

The object of Ra is to acquire the most fame (points) over three epochs (rounds) by the collecting of various types of tiles won during auctions. You can only win a limited number of auctions (which varies with the number of players) each epoch, and there is a chance that an epoch can end prematurely, denying you one or more chances at auctions.

To begin, each player is assigned a group of suns valued sequentially from two to thirteen (or to sixteen with five players); these are what you use to win auctions, with the highest sun bid winning. Each player also starts with ten points, represented by stone tablets in denominations of one, two, five, and ten. The tiles in the bag represent various aspects of ancient Egyptian culture that are needed in order to have a successful dynasty (scoring tiles), disasters that remove two of their corresponding scoring tiles from the auction winner’s possession, and tiles depicting Ra, the Egyptian Sun God. The tiles themselves are colorful and eye-catching, with basic but serviceable art very much in the style of Egyptian hieroglyphics; the Ra tiles in particular stand out with their bright red backgrounds — much like the Whammies of PYL. The quantities of each type of tile are listed on the game board for probability reference (e.g., “how many Floods are left in the bag?”).

On each player’s turn, he has three options: 1) pull a tile from the bag and place it on the auction track (or the Ra track if it is a Ra tile); 2) spend a God tile (won in auctions) to claim any one tile on the auction track; or 3) invoke Ra. Drawing a Ra tile or invoking Ra initiates an auction for all of the tiles currently on the auction track, plus the sun used to win the previous auction; the first completed auction of the game includes the sun valued at one, which can obviously only win an auction if you’re the only player placing a bid. The sun you win via auction is placed face-down in front of you for use in the next epoch (or for scoring after the third); when you are out of face-up suns, you are done for the epoch.

An epoch ends either when all players have used all of their suns or when the final Ra tile is placed on the Ra track — which is usually when the Whammy reference comes into play, as the final Ra tile ends the epoch immediately, discarding whatever tiles may remain on the auction track. This is especially true when only one player has any suns left and is essentially in sole control of the board. If your playgroup is anything like mine, the inherent tension created by “pressing your luck” is usually amplified by the other players (without suns) actively rooting for you to hit the “Whammy” and get screwed; sinister chants of “RA! RA! RA!” are not uncommon in my experience.

After each epoch, points are awarded for various criteria — and occasionally deducted for a lack of certain aspects. Certain tiles are discarded every epoch, and others are retained; the latter are noted by a symbol so inexperienced players know which are which. At the end of the third and final epoch, there are two additional scoring criteria. The highest total then wins.

As the default action of pulling a tile takes about five seconds, and auctions being restricted to one bid per player eliminates down on “arms race”-style bidding increments that can occur in other auction-based games, Ra features very little downtime. Even a five-player game shouldn’t take more than an hour to finish; three players can probably get done in around half that time. The only complaint most owners of the game have comes from the fact that at some point between editions the tiles became bigger than they were originally but the bag that you draw them from did not, creating a situation where it is difficult to “shuffle” them adequately; an upcoming reprinting of the game is said to correct this nuisance. Also, I highly recommend visiting BoardGameGeek’s Ra page and printing out one of the players’ mats/scoring sheets, which will help you keep things organized and greatly speed up play (especially scoring).

While there is a heavy luck element to Ra, it is restricted only to which tiles are pulled in what order. Everything else is public knowledge, so there is a high level of strategy balancing out the random tile draws. One of the key strategic elements is knowing when to invoke Ra, which can force players to make unfavorable bids if they really want something on the auction track — or possibly let you get what you want for your lowest-valued sun if no one else steps up. Just be sure you really want (or can at least make do with) what’s on the auction track — if Ra was invoked and no other player makes a bid, the player who invoked Ra must bid, to prevent invoking from being a stall tactic.

Do you place a higher bid to cut off later bidders from getting what they want (or at least from getting them cheaply) and risk “wasting” one of your own suns? How many Ra tiles are left in the bag, anyway? Should you bid now to trade one of your low-value suns for a higher-valued one for the next epoch, and pick up some extra points before that last Ra tile messes everything up? Can you afford to eat the losses that disaster tile will cause? Hey, Chris is really collecting a good amount of Monuments over there… should I try to stop him from racking up some major points in the final round? Questions like that are what makes Ra challenging — and a blast to play for the thinking gamer.

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Fans of drafting in CCGs like Magic: The Gathering will probably be right at home with Fairy Tale, which uses the mechanic to produce a quick-playing set-making game. Fairy Tale consists of one hundred cards (twenty of which are not used under the Basic Rules) colorfully decorated with anime-styled fantasy artwork and large symbols. Although the game supports two to five players (the Basic Rules’ eighty-card deck can only accommodate a maximum of four), it doesn’t shine as much when there are only two. There are also rules included for two-on-two team play.

Each of the cards has a point value, although some cards’ values are dependent on what other cards you have in play. Several also have effects that cause you (or in some cases, everyone) to flip or unflip cards with a certain characteristic — only face-up cards count for the final scoring, so you have to consider this when selecting and playing cards for the round. The twenty Advanced cards include sixteen that have large point values but are worth zero if you don’t meet their conditions, plus four “hero” cards that have their own effects.

Each round consists of five cards being dealt to each player. You select one of these cards to keep and then pass the rest (to the left in the first and third rounds, to the right in the second and fourth). This process repeats until you have selected five cards. In the second half of the round, you select one of your cards and place it face down; each player reveals their selected card simultaneously and resolve any effects. A second and third card are played in the same manner, then the last two cards remaining in your hand are discarded face down. After the first three rounds, you begin the entire process again until a total of twelve cards have been played; after the forth round, you calculate the total score of your face-up cards and the highest total wins.

Drafting is not something most casual gamers have experienced, but even for CCG veterans, Fairy Tale provides unique dilemmas. After the first round, you have some idea of the strategy your opponents are hoping to employ — and they know yours as well — so you may have to choose between making a pick to help out your own position or “hate drafting” to deny them a crucial scoring opportunity. As the unplayed cards each round are discarded face down, there’s no way of knowing if the card you need has already passed you by, and unless you’re playing with the maximum mount of players, there’s also no guarantee that the card(s) you need will even be dealt. The other strategic choice is which three of your five cards to play, a decision that might change depending on what happens with the first card or two.

Fairy Tale is a lightning-fast game, as a complete four-round cycle can usually be completed in under half an hour. This, combined with its flexibility in both number of players and optional Advanced Rules, makes it an excellent addition to any gamer’s collection and a nice quick game for short stretches of downtime. There is usually some initial confusion as to the difference between “flip” and “unflip”, but that passes quickly; the other obstacle is the scoring, as while the cards are self-explanatory, there is an element of multiplication that may confuse younger players. Those hurdles aren’t too high, however, and soon everyone moves past the mechanics and on to the stragety, which is the way all good games should be.

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A large subset of modern board games are commonly referred to as “rail games”; typically, these put players in the positions of railroad builders (or even a Railroad Tycoon, in the board game version of the popular PC sim series), criss-crossing various countries in an attempt to connect the most locations and earn the most cash (and/or points). On the Underground, one of the newest entries to this venerable genre, has a slightly different thematic take on the genre, confining you to just one city — specifically, London and its famed Underground transit system. The board itself is even based on the London Underground map.

Players are assigned from two to four colors (lines) of wooden rail pieces (depending on how many are playing), as indicated by their scoring marker. One player is randomly assigned to be the Start Player, with play proceeding clockwise around the table as usual. On a player’s turn, he has four builds available to him; these builds can consist of any number of the player’s lines, but a given line can only be extended at its ends unless two Branch Tokens are spent to extend in the middle of a line. A player can earn a Branch Token by forfeiting one build or by connecting to a Terminal location, the latter of which will also score the player two points (but close off that end of the line); other spaces on the board can score points as well, as can completing a loop. The only other source of points is the Passenger.

Despite representing a mass-transit system, On the Underground features only one Passenger; at the start of the game, four Destination cards are dealt face-up and markers are placed on the board at the corresponding stops. At the end of each player’s turn, the Passenger will go to an Express Destination (gold-colored) first if one is available, then travel to a regular Destination (white), according to his own simple rules: 1) He will go to whichever destination involves the least “walking” (spaces not connected by rail lines); 2) In the event of a tie for “fewest walks”, he will take the path that uses the fewest number of lines; and 3) if both walks and lines are tied, the choice of which path he takes is up to the player whose turn it is. Each time the Passenger uses one of your lines to reach his destination(s), you score a point (per line, if applicable). The visited Destination cards (or card, if no Express) are then discarded and replaced by the next ones on the top of the deck. When the last card is dealt from the deck, the Passenger is removed from play and the game ends before the Start Player’s next turn — meaning that everyone gets the same number of turns, although not the same number of Passenger moves.

On the Underground is a fairly quick and close-scoring game, with complete games occupying only about an hour depending on the number of players and how good each player is at planning his move; while I’ve never felt impatient waiting for my turn to come around, you can’t really plan ahead, due to the constantly-shifting Destinations and potential for other players to cut you off from stations with limited junctures. Set-up time is minimal, with some special tokens being randomly distributed among specific locations for scoring purposes and then everything else is either kept handy or assigned to players. Investing in some small plastic bags might be a good idea, however, as the wooden rail pieces come in eleven different colors; I don’t know why there’s eleven when only ten are really needed, but all eleven are assigned at one time or another (three pairs are always assigned together, which can help a bit with organization). Additionally, all of the pieces are very small and easily lost.

As is the case with many rail games, On the Underground is incredibly easy for new players to grasp, with simple rules and gameplay. Moving the Passenger has a little bit of a learning curve to it, but you really only need one person to understand it; his “program” only changes when he has two or more equal choices, at which point the player generally defaults to whichever path either helps himself the most or helps the player in the lead the least.

While On the Underground is simple and fun, it is not without its faults. It is possible for inexperienced (and/or careless) players to find themselves cut off from most of the action, but that danger is really only present in games with four or five players with only two line colors each. On the other hand, having a lower number of players could actually slow the game down, as it would take longer for you to burn through the Destinations; at most, four cards will be refreshed per “turn cycle”, whereas in a four or five-player game you could flip through seven or more before it is your turn again. Ultimately, however, On the Underground is a solid gaming experience that emphasizes a balance of strategy and tactics, with very little luck or time involved.

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