#oneaday Day 627: Finding your niche

I was a bit of a latecomer to YouTube. I remember a friend of mine trying to encourage me to follow some of the YouTubers she liked, and feeling curiously resistant to it all. In some respects, I am still quite resistant to certain quarters of YouTube — I have no intention of ever watching a Mr. Beast video, for example — but it's fair to say at this point that YouTube, as a general cultural entity, is an important part of my daily life for various reasons.

One of the things that I've particularly enjoyed about more actively engaging with YouTube over the last decade or so is coming across channels that have very much found their niche, and stick to it. Sometimes this is as simple as "gaming", but oftentimes I find that the most interesting and enjoyable channels are those that get a little more granular: those that choose to focus on a specific aspect of something that they enjoy and dive deep into that.

This can take many forms, so I want to share a few favourite channels in this regard today. Not all of them are gaming related, but all of them are run by people who have found something they enjoy doing and continue to do just that, often regardless of what "the algorithm" supposedly wants or viewing figures. I respect this because it's what I aspire to do with my channel; while my YouTube channel is broadly a "variety gaming" channel with a focus on retro, my preference is to explore overlooked and underappreciated games and platforms from over the years — and sometimes to give games that had a less than stellar reception on their original release another chance.

But I digress. This is not about me. This is about some channels I enjoy, so let's go on a little wander around YouTube, shall we?

Yesterzine

As you probably know if you've been reading this for any length of time, I enjoy old video game magazines, and as such I'm gratified to see how many people out there enjoy making videos and writing about them. One of my favourites is Yesterzine, a channel that describes itself as "The Literal Magazine Show", because it takes a "magazine show" format and is also about magazines, you see?

Presenter Dudley (who, full disclosure, I Actually Know) has a characteristically deadpan style that works well with the show's humour. He strikes a good balance between acknowledging and celebrating the original cultural context of these publications and providing appropriate modern commentary and criticism of aspects that, in retrospect, have not aged well for one reason or another.

Yesterzine videos are worth sitting down and paying attention to rather than putting on in the background, and with such a rich vein of classic magazines to draw on for future episodes, it's a show that will continue for as long as Dudley can be bothered, and he's showing no signs of slowing down just yet.

Zilog and Moto

I've always enjoyed Sega games, particularly from the 8-bit and 16-bit eras. In fact, if you follow my YouTube channel, you'll notice I'm going through a bit of a Master System phase right now.

Zilog and Moto is a channel with a bold aim: to collect all the English language releases for Master System, Mega Drive/Genesis, Mega CD and 32X, then play and review all of them. Presenter Dave is making good progress in both regards so far. His videos are simply presented but effective in what they do, consisting of a short introduction to camera, a look at the game's physical component and then some commentary on how it actually plays.

Dave clearly spends time with each and every game and gives it a proper chance — even in the case of notoriously bad titles. Sometimes this leads to pleasant surprises… and, of course, sometimes those poor receptions are well-deserved. Either way, an episode of Zilog and Moto is always a worthwhile watch if you're an old-school Sega fan.

League of Extraordinary Board Games

This channel, a collaborative affair between well-known tat acquirer Stuart Ashen, CheapShow's Paul Gannon and movie enthusiast Oliver Harper, has a simple premise: dig out an old, obscure board game of the ilk you would have once got at a jumble sale, then give it an honest shot to see if it's any good.

The trio doesn't always get through a full game of something — particularly if it looks like running particularly long, or if it is clear that the game itself is not actually very fun — but they always give it a chance.

It's especially interesting to see the variety of licensed board games based on TV shows — I have fond memories of these from back in the day and wish I'd held on to more of the ones that I used to have copies of. As it stands, all I still have is a copy of MB Games' adaptation of Williams' arcade game Defender.

Anyway, this has a similar feel to Gannon's CheapShow: the sense that you're being let in on a group of friends just having fun together. A good show for when you're feeling a bit lonely.

Lord Heath

I won't lie: I found Lord Heath's channel because of his frankly astonishing fart videos, one of which can optionally be enjoyed above. But I've been enjoying his other… err… output too, the majority of which are the rather more socially acceptable and/or safe for work reviews of drinks.

These are short, simple, self-explanatory videos: he tries a drink, he gives his thoughts on it. Most of them are under three minutes long, but they're all rather entertaining; Lord Heath himself is a joyfully exuberant character who is not afraid to make a twat of himself in public, and he always makes a point of shooting his videos in some pleasantly picturesque locations.

In many respects, this is perhaps the purest example of what I'm talking about today: he's clearly got a vision in his head for what his YouTube channel should be, farts and all, and he's stuck with it. He's not trying to be Internet famous; he's not trying to clickbait; he's just a cheeky chappy who likes burping, farting and trying an increasingly esoteric selection of beverages. Eternal respect to him.

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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#oneaday Day 589: HeroQuest First Light, First Session

I've done it! I've finally played a game of HeroQuest with actual real human people. And we had a really good time! We got through the first two quests in the First Light campaign — I've bought both First Light and the big-box core set, but I wanted to give First Light a go because it's a completely different campaign to the big-box core set, and the big-box core set campaign is largely based on the 1989 original, which I was already familiar with.

Both sets stand by themselves, and both are a good means of getting into HeroQuest as a hobby; the main difference is that First Light is a lot cheaper and comes in a smaller box, because it lacks the big collection of plastic miniatures included in the big-box core set. And, having played the game with those big-box core set miniatures today, I'm glad I picked it up; making the whole game a lot more "3D" really adds to the atmosphere and makes it look great on the table. (For the budget-conscious, the cardboard standees for monsters in First Light have some great artwork on them — and you do still get miniatures for the heroes and a recurring dragon boss — but all the furniture items are flat cardboard tiles that just show a plan view of the furniture. They serve their purpose, but it's hard to deny that the 3D furniture is just better.)

Playing Zargon (known as Morcar in the European '80s version) is an interesting experience. One thing you have to remember while playing is that although you are technically an "adversary" for the Hero players, you are not necessarily trying to defeat them. You are, instead, attempting to facilitate a fun session of storytelling, using the game mechanics as a framework, and that sometimes means quietly fudging things a bit, rebalancing the difficulty on the fly and responding to things that happen in a way that isn't necessarily laid down for you in the Quest Book in black-and-white.

Some people turn their nose up at HeroQuest because of its simplistic mechanics, and I can totally understand that; there are games with similar theming that go much harder on strategy and tactics, with each encounter feeling a lot more like a tabletop wargaming skirmish than a dungeon crawl. For some, that's what they want; for me, though, I've always been very fond of HeroQuest's straightforward mechanics, because not only do they keep the game pacy and help emphasise the collective, emergent narrative of the players' quest, they also make it very easy for newcomers to pick up. There's very little trawling through an epic rulebook once you have the basic rules sorted, which means there's very little downtime, and a lot more time for moving, fighting and searching things — because those are the three main things you do in HeroQuest.

The two quests we played today were enjoyably different from one another. The first was a relatively open-plan dungeon in which the Heroes, by chance, picked the "correct" way to go at the beginning and ended up at the concluding encounter relatively quickly, but in the process they also missed out on potentially collecting a bit more treasure. The second quest had an interesting series of magic portals that could send the Heroes to different parts of the dungeon, some of which connected with one another and some of which did not.

The second quest was noticeably harder than the first. The Heroes did have a bit of a run of bad luck with dice rolls — particularly once they opened up a secret room and found a pair of Mummies, which are surprisingly tough enemies to beat — but that made their eventual victory over the quest's "boss" feel hard-earned and definitely worthwhile. And relatively little Zargon fudging was required to keep everyone alive!

The cool thing is that I think the Hero players learned something from how these two quests went down — notably, that it is helpful to stay together, but in a tactically advantageous formation so, for example, the Wizard doesn't get twatted in the face, so the Barbarian doesn't block doorways and so everyone is able to get a chance to line up and punch something. The Wizard got equipped with a staff after the first quest, which allows him to attack diagonally, so that helped inform some tactics, and the Heroes have also determined that getting themselves some better equipment probably wouldn't be a terrible idea, either.

Lots of scope for growth, and the players enjoyed themselves enough to want to play it again! So with any luck, in a couple of weeks' time, it'll be hitting the table again and the campaign can continue.

I'm really very happy about this. I've been wanting to run a proper game of HeroQuest since I was, like, ten, and now I am. And I'm having fun! Sometimes you just need patience. And to buy the game multiple times in the intervening years.

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#oneaday Day 584: Paint chase

"Are you going to paint them?" Andie asked, looking at the wealth of miniatures in the big-box HeroQuest set that arrived today.

"Probably not," I said. "I don't know how."

This probably isn't quite accurate — as Andie pointed out, the how of painting something is pretty bloody obvious. But what I meant by that was I have no idea how to do it in such a way that it doesn't look absolute shite.

Now, granted, I am basing this on my previous attempts to do this, some 30+ years ago, when I had a Citadel Miniatures starter paint set and a single brush that was, frankly, woefully inaccurate for the job at hand. The results were, as you might expect, Not Very Good — not least because I only ever really got as far as doing base colours, and never got into doing highlights and shadows. I always got hung up on the how of those bits — how do you know which bits need highlights and shadows? (Obviously, you shine a light on it, and put shadows in the bits that have shadows in them, and lighter bits on the bits that have light on them — I realise that now.)

With this in mind, I've been pondering whether I should try again. And I was surprised and pleased to discover that miniature painting technology has, unsurprisingly, moved on quite considerably in the intervening 30+ years since I last attempted it.

I'm especially interested in some curious little gizmos called Speedpaint Markers by a company called The Army Painter. This is, in turn, a spinoff of a type of paint this company creates called Speedpaint, which purports to do all the highlighting and shadowing for you to a certain extent. It does this through a particularly blended paint, whose properties mean that when it gets into cavities it takes on a darker tone, while on flatter, more raised areas it has a lighter tone, and on everything in between it has a… well, kind of "normal" tone, whatever that means for the specific colour you're using. It's a different sort of idea to acrylic-based paint, which is what I had previously experimented with, and looks like being a very beginner-friendly approach to painting minis.

The Markers take things a step further. Rather than requiring a specialist brush, palette and other equipment, they're a little brush-pen hybrid that delivers the paint right onto the miniature without any other equipment required. Obviously you still need to prime them beforehand, but that's simple enough that even I can do it.

I'm tempted to give them a try. It's a bit of money to get a decent starter set of colours (and, annoyingly, the one thing the "starter set" of markers lacks is a regular flesh tone) but if it really is as easy as it looks to use these things, I might finally be able to enjoy something that has, to date, eluded me.

I dunno. I'll think about it. But it would be cool to have painted minis for HeroQuest.

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#oneaday Day 583: Heroic leap

(Experimenting with some different techniques today. The above isn't what I'd call a "finished" image but I feel like I can probably build that into something.)

We were originally supposed to be having some friends over to play HeroQuest today, but the collective illness of me, Andie and at least one of the friends in question over the course of the last week caused us to postpone to next weekend. So I can't really offer a recap of what occurred in our first session, but I can take a moment to ponder exactly why I'm looking forward to jumping into this.

HeroQuest was an important part of my childhood. I was introduced to it through my brother's girlfriend at the time, who was big into heavy metal, fantasy role-playing and suchlike. Her Dad was into miniature wargaming, also, so I wonder how much that was an influence on her — though, of course, Warhammer and its ilk was always a lot cooler than the sort of "historical re-enactment" miniatures her father collected. Perhaps it was a case of "oh, I kind of like those, but I don't want my Dad to think he's cool, so I'll get into something tangentially related".

Anyway, fact is, I was introduced to HeroQuest by my brother's girlfriend, who did an admirable job of putting up with her boyfriend's annoying younger brother by letting me look at her stuff. I don't think I ever actually played HeroQuest with her, but I was so enamoured with it that I asked my parents to get me a copy of Advanced Heroquest one birthday or Christmas, and I got it. Still have it, in fact.

To my frustration over the years, I've actually had relatively few opportunities to play either the original HeroQuest or Advanced Heroquest with real people. Fortunately, Advanced Heroquest includes some very robust solo play rules, so it wasn't a complete waste, and I did manage to play it a few times with people over the years. But the original HeroQuest was always something I really wanted to play with other people over the long term — ideally with me in the role of the games master, taking the players through a full campaign of adventures.

HeroQuest, for the unfamiliar, is a fairly straightforward dungeon-crawling board game. The original MB Games version from the late '80s was developed in conjunction with Games Workshop's Citadel Miniatures brand, and thus was regarded as part of the Warhammer universe; Advanced Heroquest made this much more explicit. A few years back, however, Hasbro and its Avalon Hill brand, now rights holders for the HeroQuest license, decided to resurrect the game with a crowdfunding campaign.

The new HeroQuest has had a few changes since its late '80s release. The new version is now universal worldwide, being based on the previous incarnation's North American rules, rather than having European and North American variants. This means a few things. Firstly, the games master player is now called Zargon instead of Morcar, which to my mind is an infinitely worse name, but it seems "Morcar" is being reintroduced to New HeroQuest with an upcoming expansion, so I'm not too mad about it. Secondly, the game is a tad more difficult — in the European original, all monsters had just one Body Point, so you just had to hit them in order to kill them, even in the case of "bosses". Thirdly, there are some differences and variations in how the quests are composed.

I initially bought the First Light standalone "starter" set for HeroQuest but, having seen a good price on the full-size core set, I've splurged on that too. (Christmas money!) It's actually worth having both, though, because First Light has a completely different campaign of quests to take on as well as a double-sided board with a new map layout that isn't in the original. The downside of First Light is that as a lower-cost starter set, it only has five miniatures: the four Heroes and a dragon boss that recurs throughout the First Light campaign; the remainder of the Stuff is implemented either as flat cardboard tiles, or cardboard standees. Conversely, the full core set has miniatures for all the main monster types in both the First Light and original core quests, plus plastic 3D furniture to put in the rooms.

I'm really looking forward to getting into playing this, because as much as I have had fun with some subsequently release dungeon crawler games such as Descent: Journeys in the Dark, The Legend of Drizzt, Gloomhaven and another one I've completely forgotten the name of, a lot of those feel like they get a bit bogged down in being tactical wargames rather than exploration-focused dungeon crawlers — and it's the exploration and storytelling that has always attracted me to HeroQuest and its surrounding works.

Hopefully at this point next week I'll be able to provide a report on how our first session went. I'm looking forward to it a lot, and hope it will be able to become a semi-regular activity. We shall see!

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#oneaday Day 540: Actual socialisation

This evening, we had some friends over! Good Lord. Actual socialisation. We even played a board game — Betrayal at House on the Hill, if you were curious. This is a game that hasn't hit the table for a long time — hell, no games have hit the table for a long time, for a variety of reasons I won't bore you with this evening — so I was excited to be able to get some use out of it. And, as usual for this wonderful game, it offered a completely different experience to any of the previous times we've played.

For the unfamiliar, Betrayal at House on the Hill is an interesting theme-centric game that unfolds in two distinct phases. In the first, a veritable Scooby gang of adventurers decides to investigate the titular House, which is generated semi-randomly by drawing tiles and laying them out across the board. At various points, new rooms will cause the people discovering them to have to draw items, "omens" and events, and these will have various effects.

So far so conventional cooperative dungeon crawler, you might say. The big twist, as you may have surmised from the title, is that partway through your jolly little jaunt to the abandoned house, things go horribly wrong. Specifically, each time you draw "omen" cards (which typically represent spooky items you find around the house which can be used later) you roll for a "haunt", with the likelihood the "haunt" will happen increasing with every omen card drawn.

When the haunt is eventually triggered, the combination of the item drawn that triggered it and the room the triggerer was in determines which of a multitude of scenarios the game will follow from thereon. One or more players are designated as "traitors" according to the scenario, and they are then given their own, usually secret goals to accomplish. The remaining regular players then have their own goal to accomplish, also. At this point the game switches from being cooperative to competitive, with the "hero" players attempting to defeat the "traitors", thwart their schemes or whatever.

It's a really interesting game, because each scenario not only has a different story setup, it also tends to have radically different mechanics. In the probably seven or eight times I've played this game now, we've never had the same "haunt" twice, and each one has been markedly different from the last. It really is a lot of fun, and I'm glad we had the opportunity to get it out for the first time in ages this evening.

Now, I've had a drink or two so I think I will probably sleep well this evening. Remains to be seen if I feel up to making any videos tomorrow…!

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#oneaday Day 255: I need a Hero(Quest)

Through various combinations of circumstances, I found myself looking at the information about Hasbro's recent(ish) reboot of HeroQuest earlier, and I actually found my finger hovering over the "Buy" button (it was £30 off on Amazon, putting it down to a much more reasonable £70 from its usual £100 price tag) before the rational part of my brain kicked in, reminded me that I haven't seen another human being other than my wife in my house for a very long time indeed, and found myself feeling a bit sad that I, seemingly, would be forever deprived of playing something that I think would actually be rather fun.

Of course, this is nothing new. Growing up, I had a copy of Advanced HeroQuest (still do, in fact) that I played with other people precisely… twice, I think. Space Crusade (which I no longer have) hit the table a couple of times, and a couple of more recent successors like Descent: Journeys in the Dark also had a couple of plays, but I have never yet managed to play through a complete campaign of any game like this. And this makes me sad, because I have wanted to ever since my brother's teenage girlfriend (as in, girlfriend when they were both teens, to be clear) Allie introduced child me to the original MB release of HeroQuest many, many years ago.

Part of me is just saying "fuck it, buy it anyway" and maybe convince my wife to play, or perhaps convince my few remaining in-person friends to come play it for a day when I manage to pry them away from their oh-so-busy personal lives for the one occasion a year they'll actually leave their houses around my birthday. But that rational part of me keeps saying "you'll never get anyone to play it, you'll have wasted your money".

And perhaps I will have. But part of me still wants it.

There's something about the original HeroQuest that I've always liked. I know there's elements of it that are stupid (like the roll-to-move mechanic, which is at least phrased as "you may move up to that many spaces" rather than "you must move that many spaces", and the fact every monster in the base game only ever had 1 body point, meaning it was nearly as easy to kill a lumbering Gargoyle as it was a pathetic Goblin) and that other, later games did what it's doing a lot better. But I also think there's still a distinct appeal to HeroQuest that those "better" games lack.

Take Descent: Journeys in the Dark, for example. Ostensibly this is the same kind of game: you have 1-4 hero players competing against an antagonistic player who is in control of all the monsters. But each scenario is much more of a tactical strategy game challenge rather than a dungeon crawl. There are elements of exploration, sure, but the whole thing feels less about delving into dank dungeons, and instead more like a wargame. That's not necessarily a bad thing; I just think I prefer the dungeon crawling aspect.

Then there are games like Gloomhaven, which, although critically acclaimed, make me feel like they overcomplicate things massively — and again, each scenario often ends up feeling more like a wargame than a dungeon crawl. I wanted to like Gloomhaven, particularly after a friend spent a lot of money on the fancy Kickstarter edition, but I just… didn't. It really didn't grab me, for some reason, and its potentially interesting "Legacy" elements, predictably, went mostly unused because we only played a couple of sessions of it.

I think the place for something like HeroQuest is firmly in what often gets described as "beer and pretzels" territory: a game that everyone around the table can enjoy, but which no-one really needs to concentrate on too hard. A game you can play while gradually getting more and more intoxicated and still have a good time. A game that you can easily introduce newcomers to without having to spend an hour discussing the rules — and a game that a group can easily return to several weeks or months after their last session and still remember how to actually play.

So I dunno. I feel like buying a copy of HeroQuest would be silly. But I still kind of want to. I haven't yet decided if I'm going to. But I'm certainly considering it.

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1639: Analysis Paralysis

One thing you'll almost inevitably have to deal with at some point if you play tabletop games is the matter of "analysis paralysis" — those moments where everything grinds to a standstill as one player takes ages over their turn, trying to determine what the best possible course of action will be.

It's a problem most evident in Eurogames, which tend to have the largest variety of different decisions to make each turn, as compared to more theme-focused titles where the emphasis is more on the ongoing narrative created by your play session. A typical Eurogame provides you with a wealth of options every single turn — and in many cases, those options get broader and broader as the game progresses. This means that as you get closer to the end of the game, turns slow to a crawl until, in some cases, you have to abandon the game altogether because it's getting too late — not a desirable outcome for anyone involved.

For the group I regularly play with, this is a particular issue with Uwe Rosenberg's Agricola, a worker-placement game that I don't like all that much, but which is enjoyed enthusiastically by two of our number and as such we break it out every so often according to our "different person picks each session" rota. For the uninitiated, Agricola is a game about building up a small medieval farm, and as the game progresses, more and more different action spaces become available to choose from, meaning the game gets increasingly complex as it progresses. This naturally leads to analysis paralysis, particularly as competition heats up for the more obviously useful spaces towards the end of the game.

So tonight we decided to try something different: timed turns, a la competitive chess. My friend Sam had acquired a funky little timer cube which had a different digital timer on each of its six faces, and we allocated ten minutes per player for the whole game, pausing the timer once a decision had been made so that players could move pieces and tokens around the board without being pressured by the clock.

It really, really worked! By the end of the game, the players most prone to analysis paralysis had nearly reached — but not exceeded — their ten-minute time limit, while the members of the group more inclined to take their turns quickly — usually by deciding what they were going to do during other players' turns rather than ignoring what was going on around them or getting distracted by phones, tablets or pieces of cake — had a couple of minutes left on the clock by the end of the game.

We all agreed that it made the game feel markedly different. One of the most traditionally analysis paralysis-prone players noted that he felt like he wished there was a little more time, but conceded that this was probably the point of the whole exercise. We also agreed that it wasn't necessarily desirable to play like this all the time, but that on occasions where it was necessary to get through games in a timely manner — playing on weeknights, say — it would be a good idea to implement in the future. More leisurely play sessions can still be had on those occasions where we have time for them — weekends away, holidays, that sort of thing.

I still didn't win Agricola, but I think I enjoyed the experience a little more than usual, which is saying something. And if I hadn't made a stupid mistake in the final turn, I would have probably done somewhat better than I ended up doing. Oh well! There's always next time.

1178: Mage Knight Night

We played Mage Knight again this evening and actually managed to successfully get all the way through the introductory scenario, which allows the opportunity to explore the basic rules and get a feel for how the game as a whole works, but which is also (theoretically) significantly shorter than the other scenarios. It still took us about three hours altogether.

I have mixed feelings about long games like this. On the one hand, I really like the experience — the depth and complexity inherent in long games means that they tend to remain consistently interesting throughout, even in something like Mage Knight where there's a fair amount of downtime. Mage Knight is designed in such a way that while other people are taking their turns, you can easily be planning what you're going to do next, so in actual fact you can keep turns fairly snappy if you take the time to think ahead. There are still a lot of turns to take, however.

On the other hand, games that take a long time tend not to hit the table all that often, and we tend to end up playing something we're all familiar with like Agricola, which still frustrates me inordinately because I suck at it. (I do at least have my own copy with which I can practice now, however.)

Despite the apparent complexity of the game that the "walkthrough" game guide appears to imply it has by explaining everything in exhaustive detail, Mage Knight's mechanics are actually relatively simple. It's basically what you get if you combine a deck-building game like Dominion or Ascension with a turn-based strategy RPG-type thing. There are random elements, but for the most part the game is a matter of setting yourself up for success, and then being able to make the best use of the resources you have to hand at any one time.

The basic mechanic involves playing cards to gain values in various abilities. Move cards allow you to, err, move; Influence cards allow you to purchase items and perform special actions in populated locations such as villages and forts; Siege and Ranged Attack cards allow you to deal damage before the enemy attacks; Block cards let you fend off enemy attacks; Attack cards let you attack the enemy after they've had a pop at you; Attack and Block cards with elemental affinities are more or less effective depending on the capabilities of the enemy you're going toe-to-toe with. These "value" cards are then supplemented with cards that allow the use of various special abilities, and most cards have both a weak and a strong effect, with the stronger effect requiring the expenditure of "mana," which can either be collected (and possibly stockpiled) through special actions or drawn from a common pool that changes every so often.

The introductory scenario is basically a case of trying to collect as much shit as possible before the game is over. Bonus points are scored for all the "extra" things you acquire over and above your starting deck — spells, special abilities, mana crystals, treasures, supporting units — and lost for any damage you're still suffering from at the end of the game. In retrospect, triggering the end of the game when I did tonight was a silly move — I should have moved away and simply continued to try and rack up points. (Yes, I lost. Except at being wounded, which I was the best at. Yay negative bonuses!)

My trouble with strategy games like this is that I often lack the confidence to try certain more adventurous things. I'll give you an example: in Mage Knight, when you uncover a "Mage Tower" structure on a new map tile, you can conquer it if you can defeat its guardians, who are typically quite strong and resistant to certain types of damage. The rewards are great — particularly when you take end-game bonuses into account — but it's a bit of a risk, especially if you have a crap hand of cards at the time. This is where the "planning ahead" bit comes into it, I guess — something I clearly need to work on, since I spent most of my time earning points from exploring the map and defeating the "rampaging" enemies on the map rather than the more difficult opponents that would have earned me both more points immediately as well as the potential for bigger bonuses at the end of the game.

Anyway. I'm pleased we got through a whole game, and I'm keen to try it again — perhaps just the introductory scenario again, making some different decisions along the way — and see if I can do any better. I'm also quite tempted to get my own copy, since there are full rules for playing it solo, which I think will be quite an interesting experience. It has the feel of an old-school computer role-playing game — moving a bit at a time over a sprawling map, interacting with people through abstract systems and gradually growing in power. It works well — it's just very time-consuming!

#oneaday Day 899: I'll Be There For You

I have social anxiety. I may have mentioned this before once or twice.

What that means is that sometimes I get tongue-tied and don't know what to say. Sometimes I let conversations run inside my head but worry about what the possible outcome of them will be, and end up saying nothing. Sometimes I quite literally have nothing to say whatsoever. And sometimes I do say something and don't get the reaction I expected and consequently feel weird.

As you might expect, this makes the prospect of "making friends" a fairly terrifying one. Obviously I have made friends over the years, otherwise I wouldn't have any right now, but I can never quite remember how it happened. In some cases, it was a simple matter of being thrown together in some context — living together, studying together, working together — but in others, it's not quite so clear.

While I am more than happy with the friends I do have, I do sometimes wish I could have more. That may sound greedy, but the fact is that I don't get to actually see the friends I have all that often. The vast majority of them live in the States (thank you, Internet) and the others live just far enough away for it to be A Big Effort to go and see them. And, you know, sometimes I just want people to play board games with. I bought a copy of Legend of Drizzt, one of the cooperative Dungeons & Dragons adventure games, this week and I'm hoping I get the chance to play it more than once or twice. If I had more friends (who liked board gaming) then I'd be able to play it more often — at the moment, however, it's determined largely by mutual availability and whether at least one of us can be bothered to drive about 50 miles. I'm more than happy to for the prospect of board game fun, but it's the former bit that can be tricky sometimes. Hopefully if and when Andie and I manage to move a bit closer to Southampton it'll be a bit easier to be more spontaneous — as it stands, however, it's a relatively rare treat to see people.

This is all rather self-pitying I know, but I direct you back to the first line of this post. Social anxiety makes the act of making new friends — even the prospect of just talking to strangers — a terrifying and difficult prospect. Even in an environment that should be "friendly" — I know there's a local board game shop in Bristol that does games evenings, for example, but I don't even feel especially confident about that. My mind gets caught in a cycle of "what ifs" and I just end up deciding not to go.

Perhaps one day I'll get over this social anxiety and be more confident about making new friends and considering that people might actually want to spend time with me if they don't have to. That day is not today, however, which means that I'm all the more grateful for the friends I do have and the time I do get to spend with them.

Anyone fancy a game of Legend of Drizzt?

#oneaday Day 622: Party Smart

I may be voluntarily indicting myself into the "I am an old man now" club but I have come to the irrefutable conclusion that You Do Not Need Alcohol to Have a Good Time.

Well, duh, you might say. We've been told that for years. But how many people really believe it?

I'm speaking purely from my own perspective here as I'm more than aware that plenty of people use booze as a form of social lubricant prior to slipping their conversational penis into the Vagina of Meaningful Interactions. I'm saying it doesn't really work for me.

I thought it did for a while. At University, as most people tend to do, I drank a lot, mostly out of a desire to be sociable and fit in — even with seeing a close friend suffer from (and, thankfully, subsequently beat) a drinking problem. I quickly confirmed my early suspicions that I didn't like beer at all, which precluded me from most Student Night promotions, and instead opted for spirits or alcopops.

Even with those, however, I found I had an obvious "line" which, if crossed, would switch the night from being "entertainingly blurry" to "unpleasantly blurry". Sometimes I crossed this line by accident with just one sip too many; others I was goaded and cajoled into it by the company I was with at the time; others still I, like a child in some ways, wanted to "test my limits". The result was always the same, however; a kebab on the way home, a longer-than-average dump during which I'd often almost-but-not-quite fall asleep, a night of disturbed sleep wondering whether or not I'd be sick (to which the answer was usually "yes") followed by a morning of being sick, barely being able to move and always taking a bin into the bathroom with me in case disaster struck while I was the wrong way around to puke in a manner which didn't require cleaning up.

Despite the inevitability of the above scenario, I still continued to do it. Drinks of choice changed — vodka and Red Bull being a favourite for probably the longest, despite its ludicrous cost — but the presence of social occasions did not. Drinks down the pub after a session with a club. Monday nights at the local grotty nightclub following Theatre Club rehearsals. And, of course, the occasional house party.

I used to hate house parties, but I'd still go. Most of them tended to devolve into me finding my "line", stopping just short of it and then spending the rest of the evening looking longingly across the room at some girl I'd arbitrarily decided that night that I fancied, and then didn't go and talk to for fear of her thinking I was a dick, a perv or quite simply just someone she didn't want to talk to.

In short, then, in a good 8-9 cases out of 10, alcohol didn't particularly work as the social lubricant it's sold as. A few half-hearted "woo, I'm so drunk!"s do not make for meaningful friendships and relationships, and as such I'm pretty sure that most of my aforementioned meaningful relationships and friendships started and were best cultivated when sober. Sure, there were times when I'd gone out, got drunk and had a great time with said people — but as time passed, these got less and less frequent, and the booze became less and less important.

When I finally left university and started work as a teacher, the demands of the job meant that for the most part I didn't have time to drink, let alone the inclination. I dabbled with having a stiff G&T upon coming home from the first school in which I worked — which was a nightmarish shithole conjured up from between Satan's very buttocks — but it didn't particularly help with the growing feelings of stress and depression I had, and nor was I expecting it to. I had an occasional G&T because it was a nice drink in the summer, and it happened to be one of the few alcoholic beverages which I didn't hate the taste of.

Fast forward to now and I haven't drunk for quite some time, and I don't miss it. The last few times I drank wine or vodka or gin, the taste was not something I enjoyed, and it felt like it "burned" on the way down, leaving me with a slight lingering feeling of unpleasantness after just one sip in many cases. Certainly it was enough to put me off a university-style binge, but it's also pretty much enough to put me off it altogether. It's unnecessary for me, it doesn't particularly help me open up to people — though it does help me act like a dick, but then, I'm in no hurry to be the butt of everyone's jokes for being wasted — and, in more cases than one, I've seen what it can do to people, and that's not pleasant.

In short, then, I think I'm knocking it on the head. This isn't a strict teetotal policy or anything but I'm certainly not going to seek out alcohol or feel pressured into it on social occasions.

I've been away this weekend and heard the phrases "you need to be drunk" or "you need to drink more" uttered several times. No you don't. Or, more accurately, Idon't. No-one needs to be drunk. No-one needs to drink "more". You should be free to enjoy a drink if you enjoy it, but it should not be a necessity.

If this has come across as in any way sanctimonious, that certainly wasn't the intention and I apologise — I'm simply saying how I feel about it and what works for me in this instance. I'm certainly not judging those who do enjoy a drink and know their limits — and equally, I'm not judging those who have a genuine problem and are taking steps to deal with it. Everyone's different, after all. All I'm saying is this: if you're socialising with me or at a party I'm throwing (haha, yeah, right) then have a drink or two by all means — just don't expect (or, worse, demand) than I join you.

And don't throw up on my carpet.