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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Ten years ago (!), Surprised Stare Games Ltd premiered the mock-up copy of their first train game at the UK Games Expo. We were buzzing with the thrill of co-publishing with our favourite Publisher and optimistic that this might be an opportunity to sell more than 1000 copies of an SSG product.
There was talk, from a (loud) Larry Roznai, of Mayfair Games* buying in to a "minimum 2000" for the US market! This made us very excited indeed but that turned out to be a lot of hot air and swagger. I remember there was a video preview with Paco Jean too:
Gosh! How young they all were!
I wonder whatever happened to that niche, railway-themed design and it's fresh-faced, optimistic Designer?!
*this is a few years before they actually bought Lookout, of course.
Everyone Needs A Shed
Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Father, Grandfather, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer.
Archive for Wales
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Ah, something popped up on eBay last week - under the banner of one of my favourite exhibit sources - and it was a tense week of waiting out the bidding:
Two, mint-condition and still-sealed copies of the 1990s Smallfilms family board games!
In mint condition, I tell you!
And still in the original shrink-wrap!
These, IIRC, were designed by Oliver Postgate himself - good and simple roll-and-movers originally appearing (in various forms) in the earlier 1960s and 1970s annuals (see here for an example)
Obviously, they shall remain sealed* and take their place of Honour amongst the Museum's treasures.
*in their original plastic**
**and, thus, in mint condition!
P.S. There will be NO blogpost tomorrow because of 'timing' reasons...all will become clear in a couple of weeks
Sat May 21, 2022 6:20 am
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Friday dawned melancholy and I never really managed to pull myself out of the gloomy fug. The dwindling attendance at the daily MS Teams stand-ups (I know have to attend three such start-of-the-morning sessions) due to holibobs means a bit more gas-bagging from the rest of us: me? I just want to curl up in the corner and have a little snooze.
Come lunchtime, I felt the walls closing in around me and escaped to the Shire town of Monmouth - 20 miles down the road and a former, childhood home. Dutifully masked, I parked up on the fringes - no fee for two whole hours! - and wandered along the still-familiar back streets to the centre:passing The Queen's Head pub, where I took Mrs B for our first date meal back in 1988;
passing Monmouth School for Boys, at which I was a pupil the first three years of secondary education (1979-82) - closed now the Michelmas term is complete;
passing the lane that leads to the garden gate at the back of the Flat we lived in after my parents divorced (1982-1986);
passing the Toy Shop that used to be Dewhurst's Butchers where I had a Saturday/holiday job from 1982-1986; and,
up the hill of shops to The Shire Hall, the Royal Monmouthshire Royal Engineers Barracks and the tiny remains of the only castle in the County I've never visited AT ALL in my life*:
Monmouth Castle - barely enough stone to enclose a modest garden.
(Wikipedia) Once an important border castle, it stood until the English Civil War when it was damaged and changed hands three times before being slighted to prevent it being fortified again.
Birthplace of England's most famous King: Henry V.
Edward II was held prisoner in the castle, briefly, before he was transferred to Berkeley Castle - just over the River Severn - and, eventually, killed by my ancestor Thomas Gurney**
It took barely 10 minutes to poke about the rubbly bits because the towers were gated and locked (probably full of military grade lawn mowers and such); I also paused to (wistfully) overlook the old showground field, the trickle that identifies as the River Monnow and the main street's higgledy-piggledy roofscape.
Thankfully, it was enough to blow away the ennui and - more importantly - kindle an appetite for coffee and cake; eschewing the numerous franchise outlets, I grabbed both from the family Bakery near the school - we, me and my classmates, used to go there in school breaks to buy chelsea buns 'back in the day'.
*until today
**by way of a red hot poker up the bum-bum, apparently.
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
You might remember these images from the ramblechat but I include them here as a fixed document of a most-excellent afternoon out walking with pal Gerv.
We two met at Gerv's childhood home - now inherited - and traipsed through the fields at the end of the road and down to the old trackbed of the Wye Valley railway line. Just a couple of 100 yards from where'd I'd explored the previously-closed tunnel years passed, it's all opened up and re-surfaced and available for exploring!
We were so enjoying the bright, hot mid-April weather - and chatting rather a lot - that we realised we'd walked almost to Tintern and determined to finish the job, with lunch close to the famous Abbey.
The pitch was melting on the piles of discarded sleeper and track, great door-stops of iron tempted free retrieval and - after four hours - we were back up-and-away from the line and staring over the River Severn in a late afternoon haze: only a 10 mile round trip but, taken at a sedate and genial pace, it provided an utterly splendid four hours of restorative, physical and mental therapy!
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Hot off the Sunday PM session a week (or so) ago, Friday night at the Ross-on-Wye gamers comprised something 'in the flesh' for a change. Well, I say 'in the flesh'; it was more like having a bacon bap in front of the telly watching a medieval banquet - physical interaction "of a sort":
I opened with a large gin-and-tonic, to help warm up a chilly evening, and a games room table laden with the latest Bones of Offa materials. Boffo had sent over a new link to the source files with the brief covering note "The Stewsman effect has changed" - all good, then!
As it transpired:
- a third of the professions had received name tweaks
- as had about 20% of profession effects
There followed a rather haughty Boffonian reaction to the simple request of "Tell us what has changed - just list 'em out".
"But I've sent you all the new files!" he protested.
"Yes, but then we have to read everything and try and work out what's changed!" we replied.
"But I've sent you all the NEW files!" he continued - emphasis not really helping to firm up his argument.
"..." we sighed.
"I'm not coming up with a full-blown document management system!" he wailed.
(pause to think about what Google Docs could provide, should it be used)
*collective sigh*
Anyway; bickering - wonderful, joyous bickering - aside, it was an absolute STONKER of a game! Settling in to perhaps NOT training up a Goldsmith from the off AND not going first for once, I spent the game trotting up and down the middle Marches claiming Noble titles and filling up the scoring tracks. I was especially pleased with my (planned for) last-action-of-the-game domino rotation in the RELIGION line that docked Becky of 6 valuable points and relegating her (for once) to the ignominy of 3rd place while staying - powerfully, triumphantly - in 1st with a thumping 66 points!
With the whole thing still buzzing in my brain, I spent most of Saturday afternoon - broken up by a long walk - formatting a bigger, single game board:
I even managed to convince Ben we needed our 'raiding Welshmen' element (lost from an early version); they now show up when a scoring track hits a given value to snaffle the juicy VP professions (not so much 'raiding' as 'opportunistic' or 'gazumping')
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Me and one of my favourite ever Germans, Mr Ulrich Blennemann, chew the fat:
(Uli is very quiet - uncharacteristically - in this one)
Here's fun: how many times do I side-eye my live 'room next door' stream from Dominic Cummings?
I do miss my European friends so very much.
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Back in 2013, when I was picking up the original art for Ivor the Engine from Mr Peter Firmin's actual house, he showed me some of the licensed goodies in his archive. One thing that stood out was a copy of Die kleine Lok Ivor - a German roll-and-move edition from Noris Spiele.
Aside: It gets a brief picture in my original blog post of that day: https://www.boardgamegeek.com/blogpost/25292/canterbury-tale
Five years of keeping an internet eye-out finally came up with the goods...and what minty-condition, perfectly-formed goods they are:
For the price of a new copy of Pandemic, this simple but utterly-charming treasure has been well worth the wait. Now, I just need to get the rulebook translated.
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
It was hot and we weren't going to spend the day hidden away in the musty atmos of Casa Boydella when there was fresh air and UV rays to soak up, oh no!
Packing water for the dog - and sure that we all had hats of some kind - it was a short hop down the roads to Monmouth and, then, Raglan for some monumental (!) castle-age:
This is one of the best castles around and - given the glorious clarity afforded by the sunshine - one of the most photogenic; it amazes me, as I think back to the days of 36 snaps on a roll of film, how easy it is to capture the best moments nowadays. And no waiting 48 hours for the film to be developed either!
Anyway, I'll let the pictures do the talking; if you're ever in the area and, Gods willing, the weather is anywhere near as spectacular as on Sunday, then get yourself in to Raglan Castle: stunning!
"Not farre from thence, a famous Castle fine,
That Raggland hight, stands moted almost round:
Made of Freestone, upright as straight as line,
Whose workmanship in beautie doth abound.
The curious knots, wrought all with edged toole,
The stately Tower, that lookes ore Pond and Poole:
The Fountaine trim, that runs both day and night,
Doth yeeld in showe a rare and noble sight."
- Thomas Churchyard, The Worthiness of Wales (1587)
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
Beetling down the dual carriageway to Abergavenny in Mrs B's Micra, me and Arthur and Fred were caught in a mother-fudging thunderstorm that threatened to turn the A449 in to a river and the Nissan in to a boat! As luck would have it, Abergavenny itself - surrounded by splendid mounts (Skirrid, Ysgyryd Fach, Blorenge, Sugar Loaf) - seemed to have caught and held the Sun, so the spur-of-the-moment trip to the Castle was a Sunday afternoon delight!
Abergavenny castle is the only castle in South Wales/the Marches that I've never visited before - that's a lot of crumbling stone that's passed under my feet over the years. Delaying the pleasure, we lunched in a local café then ambled back up the hill to the ruins:
Arthur was somewhat narked by the copious supply of 'Do Not Climb On The Walls' signs and pushed his luck as to what counted as a reasonable 'masonry clamber' versus the full-blown Chris Bonington! I'm not one to spoil his fun just as long as he wasn't taking the piss...which is how I would describe ending up ABOVE that pointed arch in the pic (middle, right) above! Fortunately, the only 'staff' on site was a miserable old lady in the museum building who could barely see over the formica point-of-sale counter!
We drove home via the old country lanes of my distant youth: passed The Walnut Tree (famous epicurean venue of the 1970s and 80s), the Hendre (hill), Barley House (simultaneously the house of my parents' dreams and the venue of their divorce a few years later), Skenfrith Castle and The Broad Oak pub (ah, those heady days of young romance). The rain - in all of its lumpen, watery glory - was waiting for us as we crackled on to the driveway and scampered inside for hot tea and biscuits.
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Anthony BoydellUnited Kingdom
Newent. Glos
UnspecifiedWelcome...to my Shed! -
An odd noise roused me from my aching, grunting slumber; a sort of rattling, wet sound - pittering and pattering like an ill-closed tap. Apparently our imminent departure from Llanberis (and it's wallowing in the delights of spectacular tectonics and glaciation) had brought the sky to tears.
After the scrumblingly-delicious breakfast, we had an hour-or-so until John the Driver arrived so I retired - calves protesting - to the room and listened to podcast episodes (Athetico Mince) and finished my latest book. From Llanberis to Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch via the Britannia Bridge:
A closer look at the Menai Straits and its bridges was within our timings so John showed us a less-travelled path down to the base pillars and a glimpse at the splendid lions; these were visible at the railway level before the bridge burned down in the 1970s and rebuilt with the A5 above - now they languish, hidden, down the sides and unseen by the hundreds of travellers per hour:
Lunch was a toasted sandwich that took 45 minutes to cook; tasty though it was, our afternoon of gaming with the Snowdonia Dragons in Bangor was being put in jeopardy! Fortunately, Yvonne was happy to wait the extra 30 mins until we lugged my big bag of games up to the Pontio Art Centre (5th Floor).
As it turned out, there was ONLY Yvonne there - accompanied by a table groaning with drinks, biscuits, fruit and other snacks. Introductions made, we split in to two tables: Kuba, Russ and Brian shipping and telling Tales while Kurt, Yvonne and I went off to Malta via the Snowdonia: Deluxe Master Set:
Finishing synchronously, we just swapped tables:
More messing about in boats and more tweaks for the notebook; the biggest tweak has yet to be tried but could open up the game for a 5th player and reduce some of the down time (thanks, Kuba!)
We closed with an all-six-of-us Citadels; Yvonne got assassinated at least four times in five rounds but still managed a close third. King Kuba the Third, though, was a late 20s victor.
We bade farewell to our generous and patient host - cutting a somewhat lonely figure as we boys trudged to our connection - and on to a sunny Manchester. Our hotel for the night, the Britannia Airport, was - in comparison to the genial Plas Coch - a complete shithole: confused staff, plain rooms with a scent of stale cigarette smoke behind the chemical pine and a restaurant menu fresh off the freezer aisle at Iceland. Our 'waiter' didn't know the soup or dessert options and had to go and ask (twice) while a racist, needy old bat was complaining (on the adjacent table) to any staff who would listen about "how rude young people are today".
We repaired to the TV-dominated bar area for one last Snowdonia and picked up Kurt's suggestion of the tricky (and heavy) Trans-Australian Railway scenario:
This is a corker of a scenario at the full five player count: lots of nipping and tucking, jostling and elbowing, to a back-drop of long periods of drought. Russ stormed it with a final round double-cube excavation that netted him over 30 points! This glorious finale to the evening in the company of these splendid gents couldn't even be tarnished by the drunk-bloke-with-carrier-bags who was repeatedly being ejected on to the driveway only to stagger (sideways) back in to the Hotel foyer: what a bloody state to find oneself in, the poor bugger.
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