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Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Unspecified
Unspecified
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Mother,
Much gratitude, as always, for the parcel of 'purely medicinal' refreshments received via the surely-overworked Fortnums dispatch department! From the snippets of Smudge's conversation I've overheard, she's been sampling the generous packages of quite a lot of commissioned officers recently: plum jerkum, a Rum mouthful and the occasional chaser/mixer (she remarked that she often enjoyed a robust Scotch in cider).
To be honest, with combat activities going through somewhat of a lull and Boffo taking up stamp collecting (he avoids the word 'Philately' as its a bit of a mouthful, and has been crying off recent 'team rec' evenings to lick a Barbadian Penny or 'gum up a Swiss'), an alcoholic stupour has been a welcome distraction.
Imagine my joy then, after a few weeks of depression, unseasonal weather and trench elbow, when we were finally able to get everyone together for some board gaming!
Billikins was already in mid-San Juan with Boffo when I arrived with Smudge noticably absent: 'bellringing' announced Boffo, in response to my query, 'she'll be successfully pulling off a Plain Bob Minor if I'm any judge' he added. With an early-laid and regularly-stocked Chapel taking the win for Boffo, the fellows demurred to me for the choice of next distraction. With this damned War continuing seemingly without-end, I needed the comfort of home and so selected Familienbande - with it's startling array of genetic throw-backs, enormous probosci and the strong thematics of inter-breeding, incest and mental instability, I was immediately transported 'back home' to the bosom of my unloving, detached and emotionless family! Boffo played his cards physically and metaphorically close to his chest and both Billikins and myself failed to spot he was 'spectacles' as he edged a win, courtesy of our assumption they were 'an NPC characteristic', by a couple of points.
Boffo suggested we could move on to something meatier - mentioning the beloved 'A' word, but Modern Art had caught my eye and we set that up instead. Smudge arrived during the preparations, wincing at a knee injury: 'I've been rubbing this throbbing bone all evening', she complained, 'and it definitely put me off my stroke'.
The usual poker-faced bidding shenanigans commenced with Boffo, at times, so blankly-expressioned that I thought he had passed out. Suffice it to say that a second round carved-up judiciously between myself and Smudge put us, unassailably ahead of the other two.
Continuing the vein of shortish but tricky affairs (something that Smudge vocally approved of), we moved on to Gargon; a sort of/kind of blind bidding meets combat meets push-your-luck set-collection card thing from Rudiger Dorn. It plays in 15 minutes but offers lots of interaction and second-guessing - a firm favourite with the ensemble. In summary, you're playing out one or more coloured cards and players must follow the formation (2 of 1, one of another; two differently-coloured cards etc) and then all compare the values of cards of the same colour. Winning cards stay in your scoring array, with lower value cards earning more VPs than the higher value ones. Throw in points for having the most of a colour and it's no more complicated than that.
The distant moan of a bugler plaintively-blowing his horn heralded the approaching end of the evening's distractions and Braggart was duly dealt out. Once again, Smudge proved an accomplished fabricator pipping Boffo by just the one point (one point often comes between them) - though the game was not helped by a marked dearth of Ploys and Liar cards in the first half. Still, an enjoyable session of lighter fayre for all concerned.
Pausing briefly to wish me luck on my forthcoming undercover work deep inside enemy lines, we disappeared into the chilly October night.
Much love to all and I hope Father has decided to stop decomposing.
Your loving son,
Antonius
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