Strange (New Worlds) Tidings

I finally had an opportunity to watch the first three episodes of the new Star Trek series Strange New Worlds, on the weekend.

Set on the familiar U.S.S. Enterprise but under earlier Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount), the series is a real return to form for the franchise, eschewing long-form, arc-driven stories in favour of more episodic morality tales very much in keeping with the original series (TOS).

The original Trek used the guise of sci-fi entertainment to raise many controversial issues of the day, including racial segregation, gender equality, and superpower involvement in Viet Nam. TOS established a legacy of progressive leadership, perhaps best exemplified in Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. encouraging Nichelle Nichols to remain on the show as communications officer Uhura. While by no means a major character, King felt the critical imagery of a black woman officer, already unheard of in either television or the real armed forces gf the day, being treated as a peer by white males, needed to be kept in the limelight.

SNW seems to be following suit even in its first episode, even if naysayers will invariably accuse them of 'going woke' (check your receipts, idiots; Trek always has been 'woke'). Never a franchise to shy away from speechifying, Capt. Pike (possibly the handsomest captain to date? you be the judge!) delivers an address to government and rebel heads on a first-contact world. He compares their development to the history of his own planet, Earth:

My world is called Earth. And though it's far from here, uh, my people and yours are, uh, very much alike. This is my world today. But we were not always peaceful. 

This is Earth in our 21st century. Before everything went wrong. It's a lot like your world today. Recently I was treated to a glimpse of my future. It was not all I'd hoped. After all, what good is there in knowing your future? A friend of mine asked me that recently and... didn't understand what he meant. ( short chuckle ) Until now. I've seen my future. Let me show you yours. 

Our conflict also started with a fight for freedoms. We called it the Second Civil War, then the Eugenics War, and finally just World War III. This was our last day. The day the Earth we knew ceased to exist.

Global suicide. 

What we gave you is the means to exterminate yourselves. And from the looks of you, you're gonna do it. You'll use competing ideas of liberty to bomb each other to rubble, just like we did, and then your last day will look just like this.

When Pike says "Let me show you [your future]," the video display turns from the idyllic utopia of the 24th century into images of current-day civil unrest. including a protest sign reading "AUDIT THE VOTE" and the ominous scene of a gallows erected outside the U.S. Capitol.

Seeing those images while constant revelations about the poor state of American democracy play out from the Jan. 6 committee, and mere days after Roe Vs Wade was repealed and even more divisiveness appeared south of the border really gave me pause for thought. 

And not that things are so much better where I live - the leading candidates for Premier of Alberta are both couching a lot of separatist ideology in terms like "sovereignty" and "autonomy", and Federal Conservative leadership candidates jostle over embracing or rejecting the "Freedom Convoys" of trucks while arguing over Bitcoin as a buttress against inflation. "Competing ideas of liberty" indeed!

Make no mistake - the battle for hearts and minds, information and disinformation and misuse of political powers both by those in power and those who wish to supersede the rule of law makes this a very, very dangerous time for society in general and democracy in particular.

In the future history of Star Trek, the crucible of the Last World War spawned a peaceful planetary government and eventually the United Federation of Planets.

I hope we can get to a brighter future, all of us, without the need for another Dark Ages, but who can say where we are on the cycle of history? 

In the meantime, I wish this new incarnation of Star Trek all the best, and I hope people of all ideologies not only watch it but do so with an open mind. Because changing our collective minds begins with exposure to new ideas, and the best science-fiction does that with one hand while entertaining us with the other.

Live long and prosper, everyone.

Break-In Breakdown

I suppose I can't really call it a break-in, per se - I neglected to lock the doors on the Flex when Glory and I came back from the dog park on Sunday, so when I opened the vehicle this afternoon, I discovered the remaining contents of the glove box and console strewn across the seats.

The thief or thieves were remarkably thorough; they even pinched the zippered folio containing the owner's manual (which in turn contained my insurance and registration documents). The seat pockets were likewise emptied and the enormous sunshade for the window lay open on the floor of the back seat.

It wasn't too messy, but a quick inventory revealed that I was also missing a 10' USB charging cord, a multi-tool (from Grand Rapids Industrial Products) I got over a decade ago from Audrey's older sister and her husband, all the maps from the glove box, and my prescription sunglasses.

Surprisingly, the culprits left behind two packets of gum, all the shopping bags in the back, a Starbucks gift card and some mostly loaded McDonald's coffee cards, two pairs of gloves and a folding umbrella. They also overlooked the tiny green flashlight that clips onto a hat brim and a number of headlamps in the passenger seat pocket.

Most of the missing items are just stuff - not too convenient to be without, and easily enough replaced, but I still find it tremendously galling. Who the hell steals an owner's manual?! I am one of the few people who actually read them, as far as I am aware. And likewise the prescription sunglasses -  I hope they give a headache to whoever ends up with them.

But I am most disappointed with myself. Not for the carelessness of leaving the doors unlocked, although that grinds my gears something fierce - no, it is the fact that my anger at being burgled is intense enough that I can easily imagine visiting horrific violence upon the perpetrator.

The italicized portion below contains just some of what I envisioned, and contains some applied atavism as well as some unpleasant revelations about just what kind of person I might actually be; read on if you dare!

I imagine spotting them through the living room window on my way to bed; I step to the door, but pull my hand back before touching the door handle. Narrowing my eyes, I determine the individual rifling through my belongings is in no hurry, so I quietly rush into the bedroom and grab the police-style baton from under the bed. With 24 inches of solid, twin-handled oak in my hands, I make my way back to the front door, stopping again in order to flick off the switch for the porch light.

Quietly depressing the handle, I slowly and smoothly push open the storm door we had installed only a month ago. Stepping gingerly out on to the front stoop. the motion-sensitive light does not illuminate when I step in front of its sensor, and I quietly descend the steps.

For a fellow who dresses out at an eighth of a ton, I have surprised many people with how quietly I can move, especially when squeaky floors or crunchy leaves are taken out of the equation. I am wearing slippers with a plastic sole, but take care in my steps so as not to make any errant scratching or scuffing noises.

The pillager has their back to me and is leaning in through the passenger door and reaching across to the pockets in the driver's side door. I hear them curse after removing an umbrella and dropping it on the driver's seat. As they move back to the glove box, I move into position behind them and to their left, just out of view. A cold and cynical part of my brain has recognized the need for a viable self-defense story - "I startled him breaking into my car, constable, and when he attacked me, I defended myself..."

I raise the baton in a two-handed grip, plant my feet and yell, "Hey!" at a considerable volume. I have startled people by accident with nothing but my voice and a quiet approach, so the effect when I do it intentionally is considerable.

The thief jetks upright suddenly, hitting their head on the doorframe as they try to extricate themselves from the vehicle. Turning to face me, they see a club in my hands and raised above my head, so they instinctively raise their hands to protect their face, but I am already swinging the baton towards their midsection. They drop their arms, but too late to do more than deflect it a little. 

The baton glances off their hipbone with a sickening crack and solidly impacts their midsection. With a grunt, they start to double over, one hand clutching at their stomach, the other reaching out to grab my weapon, which is already pulling back out of their reach.

Reaching out with my left hand, I push their right arm out of the way as I raise the club above my head. I am ecstatic to have a clear shot at their face and neck as the baton makes its descent...

And I am going to stop right there.

There is a scene in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta's character Vincent Vega laments his car being keyed by an unknown individual. He goes on to say, "It woulda been worth him doin' it, just so I could've caught him doin' it."

I think a lot of us can relate to that sentiment, but I never thought of myself as that person. Threaten my wife, harm or intimidate my daughters? There is likely to be trouble, and I accept that if I followed my instincts in a scenario like that, there is real potential of my going to jail or even prison.

But the realization that I am clearly prepared to unleash a frankly disproportionate level of violence because I don't like my stuff being taken was unsettling to me. Don't get me wrong, it was kind of fun to write and there is a sliver of righteousness in my indignation and defence of property. But the reason I ended my description where I did is because I am not sure when I would stop.

Or if I would, for that matter.  

How can I talk about my faith one minute, with its ideals of grace, and justice, and reconciliation, and throw it all away the next minute because my privacy has been violated? Is that infringement worth sending someone to the hospital? Is it worth a criminal record and a reputation of violence for me? 

When a brick comes through my window a year later, do I assume it came from my thief, or dismiss it as a random incident? What about a Molotov cocktail? A neighbour's house was hit with one before we moved into this neighbourhood and it stood vacant for over a year's renovations. How much time do I spend looking over my shoulder for comeuppance?

And the thief - what if they were a teenager running away from an abusive home? A residential school survivor? Someone with severe mental health issues?

In the end, as burned up as I am about the pilfered items (the owner's manual! did you know you can get a better trade-in for your vehicle if you have the original one? grr!), my nature is to focus on gratitude again.

Gratitude that it was only stuff, and that no damage was done to the vehicle. Nothing irreplaceable was taken, and I have already replaced the registration. No one got hurt. I am grateful for many of the items that were left behind, especially that little light that clips to my hat - it's so handy when camping.

And mostly I am grateful that I didn't catch the perpetrator in the act, and perhaps put a greater tragedy into motion.

Mostly.

Father's Day and Job Insecurity

 Due to conflicting engagements, our family spent most of Father's Day separated today, only coming together at the supper hour.

Audrey took us out to The Captain's Boil where we enjoyed the tastiest of seafoods served in the most unpretentious way imaginable - steaming hot in a clear plastic bag, dripping with spiced butter.

The five of us gorged ourselves on clams, shrimp, mussels, and lobster accompanied by okra, corn, potatoes, sausage, french fries and fried rice - the bibs and gloves they provide are definitely a good idea and not just a gimmick.

On the way over to the restaurant, the girls gave me a gift of Haupy's Moose Rub, a pair of neat-looking barbecue sauces and a plaque that says "Dear Dad, You're doing an amazing job!"

It's my favourite job, and I am by no means perfect at it, so I honestly appreciate the validation. The benefits of hindsight only seem to increase as my senior years loom (hmm, going to need a new blog title at some point too!), so sometimes the errors seem more prominent.

But my relationship with my daughters is honest and fun and good and certainly rewarding to me, so it is gratifying to have a little reminder of it. 

This is my tenth Father's Day since my own dad passed in 2012, and I am glad to report that I can recall him now almost completely without pain or tears (or could, right up until typing that sentence, argh). 

Like me, I know there were things he wished he had done or approached differently, but I also am glad to have had his guidance and humour and companionship for as long as I did. But talking about him with my church friends at our booth at the St. Albert Pride Festival yesterday, there was nothing but joy and appreciation in my voice.

To all my fellow dads and brothers and others in fathering roles of all sorts, Happy Father's Day - keep up the great work, and don't be too hard on yourself.

G&G XVI (Part 3): Dragons, Mechs, Dungeons and Wrecks

The closing day for G&G XVI got off to a late start due to the group photo. Now, organizing this particular assortment of lads is not precisely the same as herding cats, but it is on that spectrum for sure, and then we experimented with different ways we could Photoshop in the immense Tiamat model that had caused such a stir on Thursday. I will post that one when and if it becomes available, but am very happy with this interim picture for now.

It also nicely showcases the excellent sweatshirt design that my work pal Ashley did for me in exchange for an assortment of ciders - very much in keeping with the secondary theme of the event. Cheers, Ashley!

Earl, our Guinnester of Archival Imaging, has a new remote rig for his camera that does lots of fancy things to account for differences in lighting or focal depth as well as allowing him to trigger the shutter from his phone instead of having to rush back into place. This divine tool also allowed him to capture a nearly complete loss of composure from two participants at one point in the proceedings:

Truly, moments like this are at least as big an incentive for getting together as the games themselves, at least to me.

Conversely, frustration really set in after we wrapped up the last of the alternate shots and I went to set up the scheduled game of Aliens: Another Glorious Day In The Corps. Last year's scenario required us to go through the entire deck of Motion Tracker cards (which spawn more enemy models) and we didn't come close to finishing, so I found one with a clearer escape objective for this year. 

When I went to set up the map I appeared to be short one of the boards I was needing. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when I discovered that two of the maps needed were printed on opposite sides of the same board. So infuriating, and we were already late to start! An expressive letter to the manufacturer shall be coming, rest assured.

The game itself has other flaws, to be sure, but once we found an eight-player scenario with maps that worked, we still managed to have a good time. Our squad of Colonial Marines (and Ripley) gamely made our way through sub-level 3, scrounging weapons as we went, dodging 'blips' and shooting bugs when we could see them, and got geared up enough by end of game to actually take down the Queen herself! Victory cost us Vasquez and Wierzbowski though, and we didn't even bother playing through the destruction of the eggs and escape, which would have taken a toll for certain.

We made other changes as well - some of the Hazard cards drawn present not only an additional challenge to overcome (in case fighting vicious xenomorphs and their enormous queen isn't difficult enough), but saddle the character who drew the card with a severe impediment. The various traumas sometimes endanger the entire mission, and not just for a turn but until the end of the game, and they certainly suck all the joy out of the game for that player. Too much, we thought, so we discarded them at every turn.

Our Queen Hunt ran late enough that at one point we thought we had lost our opportunity to play the final scheduled game, but a quick final turn in AGDITC (and truncated scenario) meant we had just enough time to fit in a game of Formula Dé!

I had brought along a set of '60s-styled cars that I had recently painted to change things up a little bit. The original plan had been to race these cigar or torpedo cars on two linked boards combined into one megatrack (Holland's Zandvoort), but with limited time, we elected to play Circuit Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium instead.

Unbeknownst to me, it turns out that this is a legendarily bedevilling track, renowned for wrecking cars, and our race was no exception. Earl's racer didn't even emerge from the very first corner, not 20 spaces from the starting line. 

A crowded field caused a lot of bodywork checks to be made, and a roll of four or less on a d20 is a fail. With racers on either side, Earl failed his third check and his car's body simply shredded, leaving him on the side of the road.

Similar fates befell three other racers on the first lap alone. With half the field gone, Jeff made a valiant effort to take the lead but failed to end his turn in a two-stop corner, crashing his car midway through lap two. 

Even though I was a ways behind the leader, I felt I had a good chance of making the podium...until Island Mike pulled up right beside me and I failed my third body damage check, eliminating my car.

And so it was that in a field where half the competitors did not even complete the first lap and saw six of the eight racers DNF, Scott handily won our final race! Thankfully he elected not to try to spray his competitors with a shaken-up bottle of San Pellegrino, F1 podium style.

[UPDATE: Yeah, turns out I did that rule wrong;  a roll of 1-4 is an engine fail at top speed in 5th or 6th gear - only a 1 damages the bodywork! The next race should be considerably less lethal...]

After the trophy pictures were taken, it was nearly midnight - too late to game but too early to end the event, so I called everyone back to the table. I dealt everyone two Uno cards numbered 1-8, one face up, one face down (btw, my Star Trek Uno deck has become an indispensible part of G&G now - we use it instead of dice to resolve initiative in a lot of games where 8-10 roll-offs would take too long).

I told everyone that we were going to go around the table in turn and each person would flip their face down card and give a toast or some sort of statement of appreciation or respect to the corresponding participant.

Like many groups consisting exclusively of males, it is not necessarily the most effusive assortment of individuals imaginable. It is possible I overstepped my Guinessterial authority, but man, am I glad I did it. 

As we went around the table, there were sincere expressions of gratitude and admiration for all the other G&Gentlemen. I won't share who said what, but there were thanks for the host, appreciation for those who work on massive scenery or modelling projects, for the out of towners who grant the event such significance, and a plethora of praises for a panoply of personal characteristics too proliferous to expound upon here. Furthermore, you could see a moistening of the eye here or hear a thickening of the voice there, so there was absolutely no question about the sincerity of the exchanges.

But most touching, to me at least, were the plaudits proferred upon the event itself.

We heard a story of how one of us has a friend who is a big gamer. They are pretty well-off and well-travelled, and they had asked about coming to G&G because they have nothing like it in their life. Our colleague gently explained how the event is at max capacity and membership is effectively fixed. 

For whatever reason, a similar event is not something this other individual can arrange themselves, and as the person relating the story emphatically stated, "you can't buy this."

More succinctly, we also heard this testimonial: "This is the coolest thing I do - cheers." Truly, exquisite in its brevity!

In both cases, the pronoun "this" is difficult - perhaps impossible - to quantify, but I will attempt it nonetheless.

When we started this ridiculous event back in 2006, a dedicated time for playing tabletop games and drinking beer, it was a good idea, as evidenced by the people willing to come a significant distance in order to do so. By creating a cheap, iron-on t-shirt to commemorate the event, and then having someone step forward to say they would host the following year, it effectively transformed G&G into a tradition.

16 years later, the significance of Gaming & Guinness has only increased, at least to us. Now, every G&G builds upon the legacy and memories of its predecessors. The inside jokes and references proliferate and the lexicon expands to incorporate new game rules and even terminology.

And even when I talk to other people in my life about what we do and especially about how long we have done it for, they are often astonished. Even when they don't say it, you can see it in their eyes, the tilt of their heads.

But what is so surprising about dedicating your most valuable resource - time - to the enjoyment of your friends and a shared interest? I know my friends are worth it, and I bet yours are too.

I say this a lot, but if anyone is looking to organize their own version of Gaming & Guinness, whether it is Cider & Scrapbooking, or Needlepoint & Negronis or Philately & Palomas or even Tennis & Tang for the teetotallers, please let me know if I can be of any help. The sooner you start, the sooner you can begin building to that critical mass we passed without me even being aware of it some years ago, wherein a one-off throwaway event becomes an indispensible part of your year and lifestyle.

And to my nerdy brethren: G&Gentlemen, I thank you for what felt like the best G&G ever (and please note: we have never had a bad one!) - here's to the next one, and all the ones that follow!

G&G XVI (Part 2): Dragons, Mechs, Dungeons and Wrecks

Friday brought what is certainly one of the biggest and possibly the best gaming experiences I have had at G&G to date: a game-mastered Battletech scenario on one of the largest tabletops we have ever played on, filled to bursting with 3D-printed scenery including rivers, hills, buildings of various sizes, an elevated roadway and an immense wall bisecting the battlefield. 

Jeff supplied the scenery and mechs while Scott ran the show, describing the mission as a followup from another one run in his Wednesday night Mechwarrior campaign. Those players had rushed into a starport city in order to disable the large-calibre howitzers ("Long Toms") and then dashed out before the swift patrol of light mechs could engage them. As the two mercenary companies involved in last year's head-to-head G&Golden Griffon fight, our job was to assault the same site and destroy two key buildings and the gargantuan mech defending the area (a 100-ton Atlas) before those same self-propelled guns came back online. 

The city's wall was the mid point of the map, and in addition to the same recon lance that had chased out the sappers, we had to contend with a tremendous array of turret emplacements armed with large lasers and class 20 autocannons. Oh, and all while being shelled by smaller artillery pieces called "Snipers".

The orange markers are impact craters courtesy of enemy art'y

Once past the wall, we would need to deal with several infantry companies defending the artillery (who thankfully could not fire inside their own city!) supported by two squadrons of tanks (one hover-capable squadron), and two heavier mechs as well as the dreaded Atlas itself.

In order to make the game as engaging as possible, Scott had also prepared a number of cards with smaller objectives written on them, such as the first player to rally their own side or first mech to cross the wall. Each of these carried a tonnage bonus (and a funny, relevant pop-culture quote) which that player could add to whatever else they destroyed n the game. This meant that there could be some internal competition overlayed on the cooperative mission.

The colossal map and the fact that Scott was the only opposing player meant that it took us quite a while to even get to the wall, and the game took almost six hours to complete, but I heard no complaints. The number of opponents and the variety of objectives kept all the players engaged, even the ones tied up outside the wall fighting the recon lance.

I got the "O Captain, My Captain" award for interrupting our deployment to suggest ignoring the enemy recon lance and going up one flank instead of straight down the middle. Two players opted to take their mechs up on to the elevated highway on the opposite side (which would expose them to more fire but also speed up their approach), and thus the sketchiest of battle plans was adopted. But hey, better than no plan, right?

My 95-ton Banshee waded up the river for cover, which also increased the efficiency of her heat sinks so she could fire both particle cannons every turn, taking out 4 turrets and allowing the non-jumping mechs to rush through the aperture. 

Meanwhile, Earl's 55-ton Shadow Hawk and Island Mike's 80-ton Victor dashed along the roadway, and Earl used his mech's limited jump jets to be first across the wall and garner the "Leeeeroy Jenkins" award. 

Rob's own Victor and Totty's 50-ton Enforcer jumped across the opposite wall section, flanking the 85-ton Battlemaster lurking there. 

Advantage due to superior positioning!

...versus advantage due to superior size...

Jeff's Zeus (80t) and Pete's Archer (70t) ran through the gap in the wall along with my Banshee and we battled our way past the hover tanks and tracked armour to engage the Atlas. 

Meanwhile, the Victor on the opposite side battled a Jagermech while Earl's Shadow Hawk gleefully trampled as much infantry underfoot as possible. Once free, he dutifully smashed the communications building, freeing us to focus on the Atlas already stomping towards us. 

With the Battlemaster tied up with Rob and Jeff, the rest of us advanced gingerly on the massive enemy mech, whose AC 20 hit caused me to miss a piloting roll but netted me the "First to Fall Over" award (sigh).

Totty's plucky Enforcer, the lightest mech on the board, lit its jump jets and made a daring Death From Above attack on a mech nearly literally double its size, rocking the Atlas, but missing the headshot that could have taken it out. 

This softened it up though, so after Pete's Archer lit up the Atlas with a salvo of long-range missiles from his twin twenty-racks, it took away all its remaining armour in one torso and damaged its internal structure. No critical hits were rolled, but Scott called the game anyways, as the next hit was very likely to take it down, and we were already close to the six-hour mark for this one game.

I had to rush away in order to get a late dinner of grilled Polish sausage started, but was unsurprised to learn Jeff had killed enough enemy mechs and turrets (plus awards) to become the only winner. A very suitable outcome for the man who provided us with the best-looking tabletop that wasn't the Death Star trench from G&G XIV, back in 2019.

After supper we turned to one of two games returning from the year before - Arena: The Contest. This is a dandy little D&D-esque game that can be played cooperatively with up to four players or competitively between two four-character teams of players for a total of eight. Last year's game had run late but everyone was intrigued enough to come back for more this year, while we still maintained memories of our previous match-up.

We randomized teams and drafted our characters, ending up with a Zafara the fallen angel, Thalia the druid, Ohris the monk and Nakral the death knight (Totty, Pete, myself and Scott) versus Niary the elven archer, Catharina the witch, Vanarus the demon and Katar the orcish barbarian (Rob, Earl, Jeff and Island Mike).

Our side got off to a good start, focusing on the enemy controller and felling Catharina the witch while keeping our distance from Island Mike's fearsome Katar. Before too long, however, they had used an action card to bring her back and vanquished my monk soon after.

I was revived as well, but then our opponents focused on our own healer, Thalia, able to revivify fallen comrades (like my monk!). Once she was done, Katar had taken hardly any damage and was able to kill off our two weakened fighters in short order.

This is a game I wish we had the opportunity to play more frequently, not just because it is a lot of fun and there is a narrative campaign that Earl, Jeff and I have waited to play for two years now, but the sheer variety of character abilities lead to some interesting combinations that you will only ever discover by playing. Plus, for a Kickstarted game from a then-new company, it boasts tremendous (if perhaps er, provocative) artwork and wonderful sculpts.

Despite having a large number of pieces, the game is intuitive enough to allow for very quick and tactically significant play, and was put away in fairly short order, allowing us to get a couple of games of Bang! The Dice Game in before bed. Using some new dice and rules from The Old Saloon expansion pack, we had some great fun, with two Outlaw victories and maybe the definitive "don't play with dynamite" roll.

um...3 x TNT is enough to end your turn...

(on to Part 3...)

G&G XVI: Dragons, Mechs, Dungeons & Wrecks (Part 1)

As the guy who hosted the inaugural Gaming & Guinness back in 2006, I am given a lot of credit as the founding father, or Prime Guinnesster or what have you. But in truth, I think it was the out of towners who lent that first weekend its sense of significance, and when Island Mike said, "next, year, my place" (on Vancouver Island), I feel like that was the moment when the actual tradition of G&G was born.

This weekend we did it again - gathered together from our different places and different lives, to set aside (but not abandon) our various responsibilities and try to focus on being together. Playing games, sure; drinking beers, probably, but mostly just grateful to have this time to have fun, share laughs, and catch up. And for the sixteenth time, as well!

Most of us were in place by mid-afternoon on Wednesday, and we played a game of Anomia while waiting for Scott and Earl to return from the airport with Island Mike. It is ridiculously entertaining but also incredibly stressful for a word game. Watching two people race for an answer, one looking for a kitchen appliance that hasn't been named while the other struggles to name an element, only to have one of them exasperatedly croak out "sodium" like some final utterance in order to secure victory, provided one of the biggest laughs I had all weekend.

When Island Mike arrived, all the needed components were at last in place.

We played drinking Jenga with oversized blocks and then got down to Wits & Wagers, a trivia game where you can bet on the answers of other people. Island Mike, Rob and I supplied the questions for three matches, with an incredible range of topics, reflecting the diversity and breadth of our collective interests. 

We rounded out the evening with a couple games of Codenames and some Jackbox before finally getting to bed around 1:00 - an hour that would have seemed tame not all that long ago, but which nowadays feels quite a bit later than it used to.

On Thursday afternoon, we prepared to cap off the end of the D&D campaign we'd started at the beginning of the pandemic with a climactic battle in the Temple of Tiamat. Jeff had printed off some dragon cultists and evil wizard figures for me so I wouldn't have to use a mish-mash of stand-ins, and they turned out pretty good.

Roll20 has spoiled us, and remembering how to calculate to-hit numbers and even add up mass quantities of dice took us a bit longer than we might have liked.

Even still, it was a genuine treat to be rolling real dice on a real tabletop with our friends from three time zones all in one room (even if players needed laptops in order to view their character sheets...).

And better still, Pete had devised a recipe for the drink that had been created in-game in honour of Jeff's Half-Orc Champion, Hrack N'tall. Smooth but hard-hitting, just like its namesake!

But the highlight for me was the moment in the game that the cult's ritual was completed and the five-headed Queen of Dragons herself entered play, so that at last I could reveal the immense Tiamat model that Jeff had printed (and which none of the other players were aware I had been frantically painting for nearly a month) and place her on the table. 

In truth, they were too busy being impressed by the grandeur of the model, with its five heads, three tails and 19" wingspan, to really display the amount of terror I was looking for, but the appreciation for my paint job and what turned out to be a fairly difficult build (to be detailed in a future post!) was still very gratifying. And it really is a marvellous sculpt! Please note - the video of the reveal below is pretty low-res and also contains some rather colourful language.

True to form for the members of Agency 7, and thanks to interrupting the ritual in various ways so that only one head could enter the combat per turn, the heroes were in fact able to vanquish a weakened Tiamat without a single casualty! Which, if I am being honest, maybe disappointed me just a little bit. 

Back row, from left: Hrack N'Tall, Half-Orc Champion; Cthuul Pi'it, Drow Sorceror; Sirona the Blessed, Half-Elf Cleric; Front from left: Bee Dozer, Rock Gnome Monk; Haldir the Jaunty, High-Elf Assassin; Leslie Tompkins, Halfling Pirate; Skad the Ravenous, Dragonborn Ranger

Afterwards we enjoyed bowls of Pete's fantastic Pork Chili Verde that he had cooked up beforehand, then settled down to battle some zombies in 

Earl's Last Night on Earth boardgame. The first game felt a bit sullied since our human team found the gas for the escape vehicle in a way we technically shouldn't have, but the second game played out similarly - ehrleschkeitt kommt wiede, I suppose!

 

(on to Part 2...)