1453: Winding Down

And so we come to the end of another week, with the prospect of a nice relaxing weekend sprawling out in front of me.

This week feels like it’s been quite a long one. Not really for any particular reason; things have just dragged a little, and I’ve been quite busy. Still, better that than be twiddling my thumbs or wallowing in a black puddle of depression, right?

Not sure how I’m going to spend the weekend as yet. I’m almost certain there will be some Final Fantasy XIV involved, and probably some Danganronpa — which I’m previewing next week for USgamer — too.

I can’t say a lot about Danganronpa at present due to content embargoes and whatnot — though it’s the kind of embargo that says I can’t talk about content in the game after a certain point in the story, not the kind that gags me until a specific date — but I will say that it’s utterly fantastic. If you have enjoyed any combination of Corpse Party, Ace Attorney, 999, Virtue’s Last Reward and adventure games or visual novels in general, you’re going to have an absolute blast with this one — though bring a strong stomach, because you’re going to need it.

Other than that — well, even with all that, really — not a lot of great import or interest has happened this week. I mean, I received my gigantic fabric wall scroll poster of Nepgear from Hyperdimension Neptunia and hung it on my wall having successfully remembered how to use picture hooks after initially forgetting, but that’s not all that fascinating, really. (It is a great poster, though.) And I reached level 50 in Weaver on Final Fantasy XIV the other night by discovering an extremely easy repeatable quest and then simply making forty-seven pairs of woolen tights in order to complete it multiple times in rapid succession — I must have looked funny running back and forth between the Levemete and the quest’s “target” over and over, with the distinctive “level up” flash surrounding me every few minutes. But again, of all the things I’ve done in that game to date, that’s not one of the more interesting things I’ve done.

I’m looking forward to next week, though, since Tuesday is our first official board gaming night of the new year, and it’s my turn to pick what we get to play. Since I’ve received a pleasantly large selection of new games through a combination of Christmas presents and Christmas money, I’m taking along a nice taster selection for us to enjoy — and with many of them clocking in at half an hour or less to play through, we should hopefully have time to get plenty of gaming in over the course of the evening. I wonder which of the games will go down the best — or if we’ll get time to squeeze them all in? We’ll see. I’m particularly looking forward to experimenting with the insanity that is ten-minute real-time dice-rolling game Escape.

Anyway. That is that for now. My working week is over, so I’m going to go and flop on the sofa with a coffee now. Have a pleasant weekend!

1452: What Can You Use Bovril For?

bovril [Note: This was written last night, but for some reason didn’t publish. My apologies!]

Inspired by someone who found my blog today by searching for “what can you use Bovril for?” I proudly present to you the Definitive List of Things You Can Use Bovril For.

You can make it into a drink. This is supposedly its primary purpose. Essentially you put a dollop of it in a cup and add hot water. The result is a jet-black drink that is somewhat salty, and which is supposed to taste of beef but doesn’t really. I’m not really sure what it tastes of. It actually doesn’t really taste of Bovril any more, oddly, because I associate the taste of non-drink Bovril with being somewhat… pungent, for want of a better word; the kind of thing that feels like it’s stripping the lining of the roof of your mouth off. Bovril as a drink doesn’t have that effect, really; it just tastes of salt and disappointment.
You can put it in sandwiches. Growing up, this was a mainstay of my school lunchbox, but I genuinely don’t think I’ve had a Bovril sandwich since I was at school. If the idea of putting a thick, sticky, vaguely beef-flavoured salty black paste in a sandwich as its sole ingredient doesn’t sound massively appealing, you can also use it as a sort of condiment; cheese and Bovril works quite well, for example.
You can put it on toast. This is, for me, the second-most optimum use of Bovril, because toast’s relative solidity compared to regular bread ensures that the Bovril remains largely in its natural state and gives your toast a strong, vaguely spicy flavour that is not altogether unpleasant. In fact, it’s actually quite nice — but again, be careful with the quantities, since applying too much Bovril to your toast will cause your mouth to feel rather strange for the rest of the day. As a guideline, when looking at your toast, it shouldn’t be a solid mass of Bovril; it should instead be smeared across it relatively lightly.
You can put it on toast, then dip it in Heinz Cream of Tomato Soup. This is the absolute best use of Bovril, and the discovery of which is one of the very few good things I look back with fondness on from my relationship with an ex-girlfriend. It sounds like it should be disgusting, but trust me on this one; you absolutely won’t regret it. Unless, of course, you don’t like Bovril, in which case why are you reading this post anyway?
It makes a not very effective adhesive. In other words, you probably wouldn’t want to stick anything together using Bovril, but in the process of opening a jar that’s a few months old you will almost inevitably end up accidentally doing so — usually your fingers to each other, or the spoon to a wall, or your face to a cat. Wash hands thoroughly after preparing any sort of Bovril-based dish.
It makes a not very effective fake tan. Again, in the process of opening a jar that has been in your cupboard for perhaps a little longer than it should have — though trust me, unless you leave toast crumbs in it, a jar of Bovril will happily survive the apocalypse — you will almost certainly end up staining yourself with it. For fair-skinned individuals, a light smearing of Bovril over your entire body will equip you with the uneven tan typically sported by Britons returning from a holiday on the continent.
It makes for excellent scatological practical jokes. A light smearing of Bovril in the victim’s underpants — probably best to do while they aren’t wearing them — will make them look like they’ve shat themselves. Be sure to scoop out any excess Bovril before secreting your victim’s underpants back in the drawer, because seeing black sludge that has apparently emanated from their rectum will probably make them want to call the doctor rather than just throw the pants in the bin and/or washing machine.
Apparently if you hit Marmite repeatedly with a spoon it turns white. I don’t know if the same is true for Bovril, but if you are bored of an evening, the attempts to prove or disprove the theory may prove to be adequate entertainment if the television is showing nothing but reality shows.

I hope you have found this list helpful, mystery reader. Be sure to enjoy your Bovril safely and responsibly, and always remember your safe word.

1451: Learning to be a Better Virtual Person

Contemplating my time in the virtual realm of Eorzea so far, I feel that Final Fantasy XIV has had something of a positive effect on my mental wellbeing in a number of ways. I also acknowledge that it brings with it its own problems and considerations — primarily the fact that what is one of its best qualities — its inherently social nature — is also something that makes it compelling and addictive, and consequently distracts from other things. As with anything, it’s all about finding a good balance.

But I don’t want to focus too much on the less positive aspects of the experience because they’re all things that can be solved with a degree of self-control and discipline. What I instead want to focus on is, as I mentioned at the beginning, the positive impact it’s had on me.

I started playing Final Fantasy XIV’s new version A Realm Reborn for several reasons: I’d been curious about it for a while, but had never played the much-maligned version 1.0; I’d enjoyed my time in Final Fantasy XI, but had never got that far; and someone I knew via a combination of Twitter, 1up and possibly some other places around the Web too invited me to come and play with a group of like-minded somewhat casual players who were in it to have fun rather than become the sort of people who run tightly-regimented raids and complain about “noobs”.

When I fired up the closed beta version of the game, I was instantly smitten, and my love for the game only continued to deepen as the closed beta became open beta, and open beta became live service — with significant, noticeable improvements along the way. But what keeps me playing day after day is the fact that the people whom my friend invited me to come and play with have turned out to also be extremely pleasant virtual company — and while I don’t know very much (or indeed anything) about their real-life selves in many cases, in the land of Eorzea I most certainly consider them to be friends.

The growth of these friendships has not only helped me from the simple perspective of making friends and having a reliable group of people to interact and play with every time I log on, but it’s also helped me to build up my own confidence slowly and gradually.

As longtime readers will know, I struggle somewhat with social anxiety, particularly from an assertiveness perspective. Even when I’m among friends, family or other people I trust, I find it difficult to be truly assertive and say what I’m thinking or what I want. And indeed I often find myself acting the same way in online games — I find myself apologising in advance for messing things up, or not knowing how something works, or not being as familiar with the challenges ahead as more experienced players.

Over time with FFXIV, however, I’ve noticed myself changing somewhat. Whereas a month or two ago I’d respond to a guildmate’s request for companions to take on a dungeon or boss fight with an “I’ll come if you’ve got room for me” or “I’ll come if you don’t mind a newbie coming along” whereas now I feel a lot more confident in stepping forward right away without qualifiers. I’ve even stepped up and led my own expeditions into particular dungeons, or helped provide the impetus for a group excursion into more challenging content by expressing my desire to see it.

There was still the question of strangers to conquer, though. Final Fantasy XIV features a system called the Duty Finder whereby you can queue up to play the multiplayer content by yourself or with friends, then get matched up with other people to fill the spare slots in your party. For someone with anxiety issues about meeting new people and disappointing them, this is a daunting prospect, but again over time I’ve noticed myself changing. I’ve not only been happy to queue for the level 50 dungeons I now know quite well by myself, I’ve become more confident at stepping into the “Duty Roulette” option to challenge a random dungeon with a group of random strangers.

Not only that, but I’ve started experimenting with party roles other than my traditionally-held post of black mage — a damage-dealing class that specialises in standing back from the main melee, flinging spells, killing monsters and trying not to draw the attention of the more powerful enemies. No, while I still consider Black Mage to be my “main” class — largely because it’s the one I’ve spent most time with, feel most attached to and have consequently kitted out the best — I’ve been having a lot of fun with playing as a healer, though I haven’t yet got to the dungeons where it’s a significant challenge to be the healer, and this evening I tried tanking for the first time.

Tanking is a particularly daunting prospect in a game like this because you become the de facto leader of the party. You’re the one who goes up front; you’re the one who starts fights; you’re the one who’s supposed to protect everyone else. The tank has important responsibilities — ensure you maintain the attention of the monsters, and don’t die. A tank is generally expected to know what they’re doing but, of course, everyone has to begin somewhere.

I’d levelled Final Fantasy XIV’s “Gladiator” class to level 15 previously, which is the earliest point at which you can take on the game’s multiplayer dungeons. But I’d never yet had the courage to step into a dungeon and lead one like a proper tank. The prospect was scary; I was worried about doing a bad job and getting yelled at by my fellow party members. And as such, I’d put it off.

This evening, however, I formed a party with my “real life” friend and board-gaming buddy James, who’s recently started playing, and another guildmate who agreed to come along. That only left one slot for strangers, and that helped me feel a bit more confident about using our run through the game’s first dungeon as a learning experience.

It didn’t start well; I died at the first monster, but that was because James was busy figuring out important healer things like how to target me and how to cast curative magic on me, not himself. As we progressed through the dungeon, I felt myself getting the hang of what was expected of me — still hesitant and keen to get the advice of my comrades, but more confident about being the one standing at the front. By the time we reached the end and successfully beat the boss, I felt like I’d happily take on that challenge again — though I couldn’t resist a quick apology to the lone stranger in our party — who was also something of a newbie, as it happened — for my “incompetence”.

“It’s cool,” she said. “We made it through, and that’s all that matters.”

As any social anxiety sufferer will tell you, the reality of a situation that’s been a considerable source of anxiety to you is rarely anything even a little bit like what you’ve built it up to be in your head. And that’s something that Final Fantasy XIV is helping me remember more regularly.

1450: Netrunning

Putting the more formal board game posts on hold for a moment because an idle mention of them during a staff meeting yesterday may have led to us doing a bit more board game coverage over on USgamer in the very near future. So yay for that!

I did want to talk a bit about a tabletop game, though — Android: Netrunner, which I got a copy of for Christmas.

Android: Netrunner is a two-player “living card game” based on the customisable card game of the same name from a few years back. (A “living card game”, for those unfamiliar, follows many of the same principles of customisable card games — primarily the ability to build your own deck of cards prior to playing a match — but provides additional cards through static, predictable expansions rather than randomly mixed booster packs) It’s a particularly interesting concept in that it’s asymmetrical — the two opposing “sides” in the game have very different goals, mechanics and even terminology.

The concept of Android: Netrunner is classic cyberpunk: anarchic, rebellious “runners” are attempting to undermine the powerful “corporations” who run the dystopian future in which the game is set. They go about this through hacking into the corporations’ systems to disrupt them from advancing their agendas; meanwhile, the corporation is steadily building up its defences against intrusion.

In gameplay terms, this means that the two sides have very different roles to play. The corporation’s role is primarily defensive and involves protecting particularly precious pieces of data from the runner player, setting traps and generally messing with the runner’s head. The runner, meanwhile, must build up their resources and equipment to such a degree that they can — hopefully — safely bypass the corporation’s security countermeasures and steal the precious “agenda” cards required to win the game.

I tried the game for the first time with my friend Tim this evening. We played several games, all of which were over relatively quickly. In the first case, I, playing the runner, was flatlined on my second turn for attacking what I thought was a safe bet to score some points, only to fall foul of a booby trap, lose all my cards and consequently be eliminated. In a subsequent attempt where we swapped roles, Tim successfully managed to acquire the seven points’ worth of “agenda” cards required to win, but it was a close-run thing — the server in which the last agenda card was hidden was heavily protected, and if Tim had played just a little less carefully he would have been obliterated by my security measures.

Obviously it’s very early days yet, but I enjoyed the game very much. The cyberpunk theme is much more than window dressing — the cards you play are all very much thematically appropriate, and the initially confusing terminology starts to make a lot more sense when you start thinking about what you’re actually representing when you play your various cards to the table.

It’s going to be a challenge to learn how to play effectively, though, I feel. It’s clear that being reckless can result in swift and merciless defeat very quickly, but this is good — it prevents games from dragging on way too long with a foregone conclusion, and instead allows you to gather everything up, shuffle your decks and try again with minimal fuss. This is exactly what this sort of game needs — not everything needs to come in epic packages of an hour or more.

Tim enjoyed himself, though, as did I, so hopefully we’re going to be playing it at least semi-regularly. I’m keen to try it with my other friends, too — I think it’s the sort of game that will be very interesting to observe how different people play.

1449: From the Game Shelf: Ascension: Storm of Souls

Ascension: Storm of Souls

Publisher: Gary Games
Designer: Justin Gary, John Fiorillo
Released: 2011
Players: 1-4 (1-6 with expansions)
Recommended Ages: 14+
Play Time: 30-60 minutes

Theme: Fantasy
Mechanics: Deckbuilding
Randomness: Moderate to high
Luck factor: Moderate
Strategy: Moderate
Interaction: Low

Ascension: Storm of Souls is one of several games in the Ascension series of fantasy-themed “deckbuilding” card games. In contrast to “customisable card games” (CCGs) such as Magic: The Gathering, Ascension: Storm of Souls comes with everything you need to play in a single box without the necessity of purchasing booster packs, and you build your deck naturally through the course of gameplay rather than prior to beginning play. This means that each time you play, things will likely proceed noticeably differently to previous encounters.

The rules of Ascension are also considerably simpler than games such as Magic and its ilk, making this an easy game to pick up and play, and a potential gateway into more complex card games.

How it Plays

In Ascension, you deal with two main resources: runes and combat power. Most of the cards you play will provide you with either or both of these resources, which may be spent on your turn but not stockpiled. Runes are generally used to purchase cards to add to your deck that will be of benefit to you in the future; combat power is used to defeat monsters, which are immediately worth “honour points”, and in some cases may be kept as trophies to be cashed in for an additional benefit later. There’s a set stock of honour points available at the start of the game according to the number of people playing, and when this is depleted, the game ends.

The cards that you either purchase or defeat are placed in the centre row on the game board, meaning that six are available at any one time. Purchasing or defeating a card immediately replaces it with another one, and there are several cards that are always available regardless of what is in the middle row. These are generally less effective than the more specialised cards from the middle row, but acquiring some of these is often a sound early-game strategy.

Since there are only two real mechanics to learn — how to buy things and how to kill things — and the remainder of the game involves reading the cards themselves to make use of special abilities, Ascension is a very quick and easy game to learn. The Storm of Souls version adds a couple of additional elements to the basic Ascension game that began with Chronicle of the Godslayer — specifically, the addition of “Event” cards, which stay in play until replaced by another one and have a constant effect on gameplay in some way, and the aforementioned “monster trophies” rule. These additions aren’t hard to learn, though it’s easy to forget the effect an Event card has, so be sure to check it each time your turn comes around.

At the end of the game, players add up the honour points they have earned through killing monsters and add the number of points they have on the cards they have purchased, and whoever has the most is the winner.

Bits and Pieces

Ascension’s main component is, of course, its deck of cards, which are made of good quality material, stand up to repeated shuffling and are of a standard size, so may be sleeved if you wish to protect them. The cards are designed in a similar way to standard customisable card game cards such as those seen in Magic and its ilk, with artwork at the top and descriptive text explaining special actions at the bottom. Iconography used is clear, simple and easy to learn, so most players will be able to pick up and play fairly quickly.

Aside from the cards, many new players’ eyes are drawn to the plastic gemstones that represent the pool of available “honour points”. These look nice, and it’s satisfying to acquire your own little collection of them — plus they provide a clear and simple means of determining how many points each player has earned through combat, though of course it’s important to try and remember how many points each player has on their cards, too — something which can only be determined by keeping an eye on which cards they buy and play.

Ascension also includes a pleasantly chunky gameboard with appropriately labelled spaces for the middle row of cards, the always-available cards, the draw deck, the event cards and the “void” (discard pile). This isn’t really necessary, but it provides a nice centrepiece to the game, makes setup easier and is also helpful when teaching the rules.

Is it Fun?

The deckbuilding nature of Ascension leads to a strong degree of randomisation, which makes the game very replayable. As with many other deckbuilding games, however, it’s more difficult to come up with a long-term strategy if you’re not sure exactly which cards are going to come up when — it’s not like Magic where you know what cards are going to definitely come into your hand at some point regardless of what you do.

This may frustrate players who like to come up with strategies in advance, but it does help level the playing field somewhat: everyone has an equal chance of getting their hands on the “best” cards, and it’s still possible to focus on purchasing specific cards with a particular strategy in mind rather than simply grabbing the first ones that become available: the various different categories of cards each have their own specialisms, so the most effective decks will take advantage of this.

Ascension is a satisfying game to play. There’s a wide variety of different cards that will come up over the course of the game, and playing a particularly devastating combo of cards that allows you to score a huge number of points in a single turn is very enjoyable. For those who find the base game getting a little stale, however, it’s possible to combine any of the Ascension games together for a wider selection of cards and some potential rules tweaks — later expansions and standalone sets add additional rules, while earlier sets simply add more cards and consequently more variety. Adding more cards to the mix also allows the game to support more players — up to six maximum — though it does significantly slow down with more players, and with interaction practically non-existent this can lead to some downtime.

Ascension actually plays best with just two players, because the more players you add, the more the centre row changes before it comes around to your turn again, making it harder to devise long-term strategies and turning the game into one where you’re more responding reactively to the situation you’re currently in rather than trying to think a few turns ahead. Playing this way isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it is worth noting that it’s a very different experience to duelling it out with just two participants.

Overall, Ascension is a fun, lightweight card game that’s easy to learn, quick to pick up and speedy to play, making it ideal either as a filler game or an option for impromptu multi-game tournaments.

1448: New Term

Taking a break from the board game posts for today, largely because I’ve left it a bit late to start faffing around with taking photographs and whatnot. I’m quite tired and it’s back to work properly tomorrow; I’d like to try and be up and about at a reasonable time in the morning so I have time to do “stuff” of an indeterminate nature before I have to actually start working, but we both know that’s statistically quite unlikely to happen.

This is one of the many problems with working from home. I mean, sure, it’s great to not have to commute anywhere. And, theoretically, being able to stay in bed until pretty much whatever time you want so long as you actually get the work done before the end of the day is pretty great.

But it’s not, really. The temptation when provided with potentially limitless time to lie in bed in the morning is to… well, lie in bed for a limitless amount of time until you really can’t justify lying there any more. To be fair to myself, I have never actually overslept to such a degree that I haven’t started working by the semi-arbitrary 11am start time I set myself to knuckle down and start writing, but I’ve cut it fine a few times.

Getting up is hard, though. I find it quite difficult to get to sleep quickly at night-time — much to my chagrin, Andie can fall asleep in a matter of seconds — and thus I like to enjoy as much restful sleep as I possibly can. Then there’s the matter of “morning dreams” — the incredibly vivid workings of my imaginative subconscious that I can usually recall rather well for a few moments after I wake up, and indeed have documented a number of times on these very pages. (Obligatory link to “the poo dream” post for the benefit of my good friend who occasionally comments here.) These are often so compelling that it’s difficult to tear myself away from them, even though I know even as they’re happening that they’re nothing but dreams, and they almost certainly won’t conclude in a satisfying manner.

At least I am able to get up, however. When I was going through what I shall euphemistically refer to as my “rough patch” a few years back, I completely fucked up my sleep patterns to such a degree that I actually found it impossible to even wake up before 5pm in the afternoon. I was unemployed, alone and shortly to be without a place to call my own, so there really wasn’t very much to get up — or even wake up — for. It was embarrassing to walk into the shop across the road from my flat and be greeted by the guy with the smelly armpits behind the counter with a polite request as to how my day had been when I knew that my day had only started ten minutes ago, despite his working day being almost over. It was frustrating, too, as I felt I should be doing something more productive with my time than sleeping, but, well, I was not exactly of sound mind at the time, and I’m not sure getting up in the morning would have helped all that much at that point.

Thinking back to that time, I should count myself lucky that I’m enjoying a period of stability right now, then. There aren’t all that many things I really need to “worry” about right now — though as anyone who’s ever suffered with anxiety and depression will know, you don’t necessarily need “something” to stress about to feel stressed out. Life at the start of 2014 is pretty good, by all accounts, and hopefully it will only continue to get better as time goes on.

Now, before I pontificate further on matters of the mind, I believe it’s probably time to bid you all farewell. I’ll see you at the start of the new working week. Don’t be late!

1447: From the Game Shelf: Guildhall

Guildhall

Publisher: AEG
Designer: Hope S. Hwang
Released: 2012
Players: 2-4
Recommended Ages: 12+
Play Time: 30 minutes

Theme: Medieval/Dark Ages
Mechanics: Set collection, hand management
Randomness: High
Luck factor: Moderate
Strategy: Moderate
Interaction: High

Guildhall is a card game themed around the concept of you opening… well, a guildhall. Your guildhall will play host to a variety of different professions, ranging from dancers to assassins; farmers to traders. The aim of the game is to score 20 Victory Points through a combination of point cards and individual points, and in order to do so you’ll need to collect sets of professions. There’s six different professions and five colours of each.

The rules of Guildhall are simple, straightforward and easy to follow and all the special mechanics are depicted through simple icons rather than text. Once you have your head around what all these icons mean, play is quick and snappy, making this an ideal filler game.