"I want to blow some shit up!" was the statement made by Uba in a post put up on The Fort earlier this week.
Now normally when a person says this or, more foolishly, posts this on line, the fiery all seeing eye of our federal government swivels upon it's tower focusing on the the foolhardy perpetrator and emits a deep grunt of dismay. I can only assume that our little web site, much like The Shire, is such a backwater of no significance that they couldn't be bothered to dispatch any Black Hawk Helicopter flying Nazgul to bring her in for questioning.
As it turns out, when the True Believers gathered in the Secret Lair by the Lake this week we did not actually play anything that involved the involuntary detonation of fecal matter.
Instead we played Merchant of Venus.
If you can't cause wide spread devastation, what's the next best thing? Shopping for Space Shoes to match your new Space Purse, of course.
That's why we call it F:AT Thursday
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Uba and Al are the oldest of the old school, the hardest of the hard core, gamer geeks from the days when being known as such didn't bring the instant recognition and awe that it does today. You young whipper-snappers wouldn't understand.
The point is, they have both played Merchant of Venus before but only on their highly prized original copy (like I said...old skool!). This week they got to try out the reprint from those fine folks at Fantasy Flight.
This was the second time playing for me and like the first we used the original rules. I find the game to be pleasant enough but it is sort of lacking in the adrenalin rush department.
"Booyah! Did you just see that PHAT profit I turned on Melf Pelts? Huh? Did ya? F'n A right. That was me! King of Space Trading!"
You aren't going to see that sort of thing being shouted by somebody who has just leapt up on top of the table, fist raised to the sky.
"Ahh, my route planning acumen was a tad bit more refined than yours, Old Chap," followed by a sip of brandy from an elegant snifter is far more likely.
Uba and Al both seemed reasonably pleased with the reprint. Especially with the doing away with cards for each space station which I take it was somewhat of a drag in the original. On a not so positive note, the horrid graphic design on the chits for goods really got on Uba's nerves as we were playing in a less than optimally lit room and our aging feeble eyes had trouble making out what was what on the far side of the board.
In the end it was Al...always Al...ever Al with the win. To him the cognac and the glory.
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