Hansa
a review by M. Barnes

One of the primary things that drew me into European boardgaming during that boom period of the mid-1990s was the sometimes arcane and unusual themes that were often little more than vessels to communicate an abstract set of rules and mechanics. Still to this day, I love bringing out a new game and announcing to the group, "this is a game about Alexander the Great!" or "this one is about the Thirty Years War!". It was with this same zeal that I proudly announced that Hansa, the new Michael Schacht game published in the US by Uberplay, was about 17th century sea trading during the time of the Hanseatic League. Of course, we all know by now that German games rarely steep you in particular times or places but at least it's a nice backdrop to what is a highly tactical, light game that has little to do with the Hanseatic League.

The bad news though, is this. Hansa, although it does bring us back to the good old "Renaissance trading" theme, is a fairly average game for the strategy-minded gamer that will have a larger degree of appeal to fans of tactical games affected by what I've seen termed as "player-driven chaos". I certainly don't mind a well-done tactical game (I love Alhambra, for example), but I do like to feel like I at least have a variety of options and approaches I can take to winning the game despite what my fellow players are doing. Hansa ultimately feels like a game of limited decisions- at least limited worthwhile decisions- and as such I found it to be unengaging but fairly enjoyable despite its shortcomings.

Anything Schacht produces these days is instantly compared to Kardinal Und Konig (Web of Power in the US), and Hansa certainly is no exception. It shares with KUK a similar play time (30-45 minutes), an almost constant pace, and a fairly minimal set of rules featuring Schacht's beloved "majority at a node" mechanic. Your turn will consist of a few options. You will receive three talers (money) which is a fancy theme-way of saying action points. At the beginning of your turn you can opt to refill all of the depleted goods markers on the board by paying one taler and refilling all the ports to their maximum capacity (one or two goods markers). The chief action you may take is the movement of the trade ship (common to all players) from one port to another following the trade routes pre-printed on the board, at a cost of one taler per movement. At each city you stop at, you can perform one action. Each port offers one or two goods markers (in six different colors and representing 1-3 barrels of unnamed, unidentified goods), one of which which may be purchased by the active player with the taler going either to the bank or to the player with the market majority at the port. Markets are represented by wooden tokens in the players' colors and are purchased with goods markers- not money- which makes for a somewhat interesting twist. Plunk down a three-barrel goods marker and take over the port from player yellow's two markets- but at what cost? It's one of the few interesting choices in the game- to hold on to your goods or expand your markets at the risk of losing the opportunity to sell sets of goods.

The markets serve a greater function, however. Stopping at a port where you have the majority will enable you to sell goods markers provided that you have at least two of the same color. Selling them requires you to remove a market in that port but in return your sold goods are turned face down to be tallied as victory points at game's end. Further, everyone with goods markers of the same color must discard one of the sold color. This makes it possible to crash the market for particular colors and sabotage another player's ability to sell on his or her next turn.

The game is timed by six stacks of face-down goods markers which are used to replenish the board. When the last stack is drawn from, the game ends following the round and players count up the barrels of indeterminable content on their face-down goods markers. Additional points are scored at each port for market owners- 4 points if there is only one color market, two points if its shared between players. This is another point at which there is at least a worthwhile reason to choose wisely- sometimes it's better to leave markets and net bigger points than selling a couple of barrels- which, as I have mentioned, contain some unnamed product. It might be mulch. Or chum, for all we know.

I have seen Hansa called a "gamer's game", "considerably deep", and prone to "analysis paralysis", claims which I frankly consider to be ludicrous. Hansa is a purely situational game- your options depend entirely on what the players before you do, what goods are left on the board following their turns, and where the ship is when it's your turn to play. Long term strategy (other than deciding where to place your markets) is out of the question because of the tactical nature of the game and also because of limits imposed by the rules prohibiting you from stockpiling goods or money. A tax is imposed requiring that any money or goods tokens over three get discarded at the end of your turn. The only way to begin your turn with more money is if someone sells goods at one of your market-majority ports, which of course most players will avoid doing if possible. While this does provide an uncanny feeling of absolute balance, as each player starts with a limited number of goods and money, it also conveys a sense of limited choices.

That said, my group found Hansa to be very casual, almost breezy, in its gameplay. There are rarely difficult or stressful choices, largely because of the sense of detachment we felt while playing it. One of my fellow gamers said, "This is the kind of game where it doesn't really matter what you do, it's what everyone else does", and to some degree that's absolutely true. Many turns I found myself actually not even thinking about what I was going to do because it didn't really matter. It's almost as if the game is so bound to the rules that any chance for creative strategy or intuitive play is eliminated in favor of processional, ordered play. I never once made or saw a play that was surprising, clever, or exciting because it's just not really possible. I'm sure there's some ex-grognards out there who sit and stare at the ports for fifteen minutes every turn in order to maximize their points or try to figure out how to end their turns as detrimentally to the next player as possible but I can only see this as destroying what limited excitement the game provides. Played casually and in 30 minutes, Hansa is pleasant if neither wholly engaging nor ingenious.

As a side note, I find it endlessly irritating that the same people that complain about luck in games fail to see that player-driven chaos is far more detrimental to strategic planning and analysis. Hansa is virtually luckless, but the player has far less control over their choices and outcomes than one would find even in something like Risk.

Hansa is for me, a good game but far from great and definitely not as strong as some of the better games of the year. It definitely won't replace Serenessima as my favorite maritime trading game and despite a certain x-factor charm that recalls those classic games from a few years ago it just seems to fall short of exceptionality. Nonetheless, it is a very attractive production with excellent graphics and color choices and it's fairly easy to pick up and play. It's brief, harmless, and will suit 2-4 players equitably. I'd also recommend it as a purchase if nothing else to support Uberplay and their mounting efforts to get German games more widely known here in the US- "Don't forget to wash your Hansa". God knows they need our help.

M. Barnes traces his love for gaming back to such classics as Ants in the Pants and Hungry Hungry Hippos. When he's not gaming, he's working as a librarian for a labyrinthine government agency and making independent horror pictures.

Shark
a review by Darrell Hanning

Sharks, Llamas and Snakes! Oh, my…

About five weeks ago, I was still riding a very tall wave of work following a trip to the London area three weeks before that – a trip, I might add, in which I had virtually no chance to peruse any hobby stores. Not that it would have mattered; Her Majesty’s Pound is currently drop-kicking the US dollar back across The Pond with vengeance. Suffice to say that nearly everything one might buy will cost about twice as much as it does here, except perhaps coal in Newcastle, itself. On top of that, the bleeding country had the sheer temerity to only let the sun shine on parts of two days out of eleven. Coming from Florida, I think I should have got a visitor’s discount, simply to offset the abysmal weather.

Anyway, a very tall wave of work, indeed, which had a brief hiatus of, oh, say two days, before it resumed its normal intensity of chaos. This had actually been going on since shortly after Christmas, which explains why the last Boulder Games’ “Game Notes” was missing my name.

I got a bit fed up at one point, five weeks ago, and thought “Screw it, I want to see a REALLY BIG pile of games. That’ll make me feel better..” At the urging of my wife, I had gone to see the Crown Jewels, while in London. Hmm, I thought as the motorized walkway carried me past this crown, that crown, and the other crown. Very pretty. Very shiny, too. (I was actually much more impressed by what must have been the drug-induced indulgence responsible for a hand-carved gold punch bowl the size of a home spa!) But it seemed to me that shelves of games I don’t yet own would be one helluva lot more interesting to me. So, I sent Jim at Boulder Games an e-mail, and asked whether he could stand a visit. He said “Sure”, which is actually very generous of him (and certainly not something from which anyone should infer an open invitation), because he is not set up for visitors. No, indeedy.

Jim lives west of Macon, Georgia, which is only about a four-hour drive from Jacksonville, so I took a Friday off (somewhat to the amazement of my supervisor), plopped the wife down in the passenger seat, and off we went. The single advantage I can find to being a contractor working lots of extra hours is the extra income, so I was prepared to commit myself to some pretty serious game-buying. I think the wife was a little leery about just how committed I was, versus whether I should simply be committed. As we crossed the Georgia border, she was still giving me these sidelong glances.

Jim, in fact, is so not set up for visitors that I passed his home twice, before concluding that his address absolutely must lie between the number I could read lower than it, and the number I could read higher than it. Wow, I thought, looking at an unlabeled mailbox, lack of any company sign, a wild array of undomesticated shrubbery, and two largish dogs performing their Cujo imitations, this guy is really not set up for visitors.

Guilford Courthouse
a review by Steve Pfarrer

Guilford Courthouse is the most recent addition to GMT's American Revolutionary War series, the low-to-moderate complexity, grand tactical games on the American War of Independence. The series was introduced with the popular and now out-of-print Saratoga in 1998 and also includes Brandywine from 2000. The scale is 200 yards a hex, with one-hour turns. Units represent infantry and light infantry brigades and regiments, smaller formations of dragoons, cavalry and riflemen, and artillery batteries; most infantry and cavalry units represent 100 to 600 men, while artillery units simulate anywhere from two to eight guns cannon. Leader counters represent individual commanders and their staff.

Guilford Courthouse actually covers two small battles fought in the South in 1781 in the months before British General George Cornwallis marched his forces north to Virginia, where he surrendered to George Washington in October after the siege of Yorktown. The battle of Guilford Courthouse itself, which took place in North Carolina in March, has 45 units, including leaders, while the battle of Eutaw Springs, a minor clash that took place in September about 40 miles from Charleston, South Carolina, has just 35 units. Cornwallis commanded British troops at Guilford Courthouse against a number of American regulars and state militia forces led by Major General Nathanael Greene. British forces at Eutaw Springs were commanded by Lt. Colonel Alexander Stuart. Though both battles were considered British tactical victories, in a strategic sense the American forces emerged victorious, as the British suffered severe enough losses that their goal -- to eliminate U.S. troops and hold the newly taken ground -- failed. Cornwallis marched on to his surrender at Yorktown, while Greene said of his forces "We fight, get beat, rise up, and fight again."

Given that GMT's Revoluntionary series is already aimed more at playability
than simulation, the low counter density of the battles in Guilford Courthouse -- plus an abbreviated scenario for each battle, based on historical unit positions after their approach marches -- makes for genuinely quick playing games that can be completed in an evening's play (perhaps just a few hours for experienced players). The game comes with a nicely done, back-printed 22'' x 34" map (one side for each battle, obviously), one sheet of 5/8" counters that include various markers, a player's aid card with combat results table, terrain effects chart and various other tables, and two rulebooks. One covers the specific conditions for each battle and includes historical summaries, while the other is a general rulebook for the Revolutionary War series and is a welcome addition. GMT plans to produce more games using this system -- the next will be about the siege of Savannah -- and a rulebook laying out the basic rules for all the games in the series makes for an easier introduction to the system.

The new game also gives each side an offensive and defensive role, as the British are on the attack in Guilford Courthouse, while the Americans take the initiative in Eutaw Springs; the defenders in each battle, moreover, have opportunities to launch counterattacks.

As in the previous games, units are rated for strength (or manpower), movement ability and morale. Morale ratings -- the British units generally have higher ones overall -- provide die roll modifiers during combat and during a rally phase, when units that that have been disrupted or "shattered" by combat attempt to improve their status. A unit's morale can be affected by overall Army morale, which each side keeps track of on a numeric chart that runs from 0 to 15. Take too many casulaties, or suffer too many disruptions or retreats, and the morale of both your individual units and overall force drops. Army morale can either be high (11-15), fatigued (5-10) or wavering (0-4). Once your force hits zero on that scale, you've lost, big-time, a reflection less of overwhelming casualties than of the will of your guys to continue the fight. Keeping a close eye on Army morale is critical, as it can go south on you in a hurry, so it's vital -- especially for the American player -- to know when to attack, when to retreat, and when to stand fast.

This is a basic "I go, you go" system, with some twists. At the start of each turn, both sides roll a 10-sided die to see who gets initiative and goes first, so you may be able to move twice in a row, giving you a chance to mess up your opponent or escape from a bad situation. Following initiative determination, units of the active player move and attempt to rally; the defender then conducts artillery fire (the only type of artillery fire in the game) from one to three hexes away, depending on a valid line of sight. Rifle units from both sides adjacent to enemy units then conduct simultaneous fire; both artillery and rifle fire can inflict disruptions,
retreats, Army morale losses, and occasional step losses. Following that comes the close combat phase, in which the initiative player must attack all adjacent defenders.

Combat is done by basic odds comparison, ranging from 1 to 3 to 4 to 1, and numerous modifers -- for morale, terrain, disrupted or shattered status, partipating leaders -- can add to or subtract from the die roll. Other modifiers can come from what is one of the more interesting parts of combat, in which each side secretly picks an offensive or defensive tactics chit, such as "frontal assault," "stand fast," or "turn flank," and the results are compared on a tactical matrix. The use of leaders in any combat gives you additional chits to choose from. Combat results themselves come in the form of retreats, steps losses, disruptions, capture and "pins" (units are engaged, and the defender must remain in place and attack in his turn, or withdraw and suffer a drop in Army morale). Certain combat results also can give either side "momentum chits" that can be used to reroll a future combat result or to influence the initiative die roll. In addition, disrupted and shattered units lose their zones of control and have reduced combat and movement abilities -- shattered units cannot move at all -- and are highly vulnerable to elimination or capture if attacked before rallying.

That's the basic description. In a broader sense, what the American Revolutionary series does is use some pretty simple mechanics to create the conditions of linear warfare, where the key to success in battle was maintaining an orderly line, outflanking your opponent, and breaking his morale. Units are not required to face a certain direction as in more complex tactical and grand tactical games. Instead, non-artillery units in good order (not disrupted or shattered) have zones of control that force an enemy unit to stop next to it. The rule mandating combat with adjacent units shows how opposing lines of troops would become engaged and find it difficult to withdraw. Stacking limits -- a maximum of six strength points, plus one artillery unit, to a hex -- make it difficult to pile up large odds in combat; this is not an 18th-century blitzkrieg where you try to smash through an opponent's line. Instead, success generally hinges on getting beneficial die roll modifiers from leaders, units with superior morale, outguessing your opponent on the tactical matrix, or using flanking attacks to force an enemy unit to retreat through zones of control of your units. Stacking limits are in effect at all times, so it's important to leave lines of retreat for your units, or they will be captured if forced to retreat -- another simple rule that simulates the linear nature of this period of warfare. You build incremental advantages by disrupting the enemy, forcing him to retreat, and eroding his morale.

The battles in Guilford Courthouse offer interesting challenges to both sides. In Guilford Courthouse itself, the British have superior quality troops, but the Americans have twice as many men. To engage the Americans and win a decisive victory, the British also have to traverse almost the whole width of the map, and it is difficult in the game to recreate the historic rate of advance of the Brits. Historically, the Americans used two seperate lines of troops and militia, some of them strung through thick forest, to slow and disrupt the British; by the time the Brits reached the main line of American resistance near the actual Guilford Courthouse building, they had suffered some fairly substantive casualties and were disordered, enough that the Yanks inflicted serious losses on them, though the Brits captured the field of battle. In the game, since there is no rule that shows how formations could break down even if not suffering serious casualties, it can be easier for the British to drive the Americans back. But the Americans have the numbers, and time is not on the side of the British, so it can be difficult for either side to get much more than a marginal victory, (victory comes in two other levels, decisive and substantial, and the game can also end in a draw).

In Eutaw Springs, the Americans go on the attack with a smaller but better quality force, and there are a number of rules to recreate the historic conditions in which the American attack, against a British encampment, caught the Redcoats napping. However, the American units may become disordered once they enter that encampment, making them vulnerable to British counterattack (simulating the breakdown in discipline among a number of American units as they ransacked the British tents, grabbing bottles of booze and various foodstuffs). In the game, it can be tough for the Americans to drive the roughly equal British force from some good defensive positions, including a stone manor house near the encampment that serves as a fortress. Time is also against the Americans in the battle. But the British can be sent reeling in the initial American attack through a surprise rule that gives those initial attacks a favorable odds shift.

Both games also come with a few optional rules that permit some variations in deployment or reinforcements, and coupled with the quick playing times --
Guilford Courthouse is 13 turns, Eutaw Springs 10 turns -- and low counter
density, these games have a good amount of replay value. Guilford Courthouse
may be the best of the American Revolutionary series for new players, and it's also a solid choice for people with experience with the system.

Steve Pfarrer lives in western Massachusetts and enjoys a variety of historical simulation games, including GMT's June 6, Ukraine '43 and Eastern Front Series, as well as the Panzer Grenadier series by Avalanche Press. In between them, he also enjoys Strat-O-Matic Baseball.

Okay, so maybe my 'live-action Fish Eat Fish' idea wasn't so great after all.

a cartoon by Scott Starkey

Die Fugger
a review by Mark Johnson

Some of the first hobby boardgames I discovered 25 years ago were Avalon Hill's bookcase games. As a kid, they were too pricey for me to buy on my own, though I received a couple as gifts. The games I bought myself—and the ones I played the most—were the microgames like Starfire and G.E.V. Small in size & price, and with components more functional than attractive, they nonetheless had great gameplay. Some of them, anyway. The trick was finding the keepers among the entire product line of microgames.

A similar situation exists for the modern German game fan with publisher Adlung Spiele. They release several unusual card games every year to debut at Essen. Each comes in a box just big enough for the deck of cards and sparse rules. At less than ten bucks apiece, you’d be tempted to try them all. However, Adlung’s track record is such that you’re better off hearing a little about them first, then concentrating on the one or two worthwhile titles. One of those from the most recent batch is Die Fugger.

Designed by Klaus-Jürgen Wrede, the man responsible for the Carcassonne franchise, Die Fugger is a market and speculation game similar to Knizia’s Medici. Not coincidentally, there is another game that links those two rich European families, adding a third: Fugger, Wesler, & Medici, published by Doris & Frank. All of these games are about the fantastic rise in wealth of the families during the Renaissance. While it would be exaggerating to say that the Fuggers invented capitalism, they certainly demonstrated its potential. Starting as weavers, and importing cotton by mule from Mediterranean ports into the central German city of Augsburg, the Fuggers expanded into trade in silk, herbs, and pepper. Their fortunes really took off when copper mined in Hungary was transported by Fugger ships through the English Channel and North Sea. By then the family was in a position to lend money to the Holy Roman Emperor, with additional mining concessions as collateral. When Maximilian I defaulted on the loan the Fuggers had a European monopoly on copper. They went on to run a banking network throughout Europe, acting as financial agents for the Vatican.

Die Fugger focuses on the part of the family’s rise when they were simply selling commodities. In fact, that may even be reading too much atmosphere into the game. It’s just as thinly themed as Medici, but that’s not necessarily a problem. There are an appropriate mix of commodities, or goods, for the period (copper, fabric, spices, wine, and jewels), as well as game mechanics that feel like economics at work.

Playable by 2-4 players (and with minor rule differences for each number), the game takes 30-45 minutes, perhaps a little longer than one might expect upon seeing it. These little Adlung boxes look like they should be filler games. Some of them are, but others (most of the better ones) fit the same niche as a shorter boardgame. In fact, Die Fugger is another one of Adlung’s games that feels like a boardgame in a card game box. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Wrede designed it as a boardgame, perhaps for another possible publisher.

But since this is Adlung, it’s all done with a single deck of cards. Most of them are simply goods cards, each representing a share. Nine “price” cards are used to indicate the current value of each type of goods (from 1-9 florins). Each good has a special card that’s placed next to one of the price cards to indicate the current value of each share. The rules explain that you’re supposed to array the price cards in a circle. (I prefer a simple line.) They also suggest that the value cards for each good be folded in half, making little tent-shaped indicators. I imagine that’s for better visibility, but the gamers I know can’t bring themselves to fold cards! They have to be unfolded to fit back into the small box anyway, and it doesn’t really matter which you do.

The cards are reasonably attractive, illustrated by Alexander Jung (uncredited except on Adlung’s website), though I find the style a bit wispy. At least they’re fully functional. The goods cards have indices with different colors and icons in both top corners. The price cards are distinct with good graphics. Card backs are a drab grey image, but that’s probably best to avoid confusion with the important information conveyed on the front.

Then there’s the rulebook. Unlike some publishers who release German-only versions of their games, expecting avid hobbyists in other countries to develop their own translations, Adlung always includes a multi-lingual rulebook. That should be a good thing. Unfortunately, their official translations are often lacking in clarity, clearly done by someone who’s not a native user of the language, and restricted in length by the small rulebook. I wonder if the same is true for the French and Italian instructions. Luckily, online resources such as Boardgamegeek allow you to clear up any ambiguities, and in this case the rules aren’t too bad as-is.

How does it play? After the price and value cards are initially laid out (all goods start at a middle value of 5 florins apiece), each player gets an initial hand of four goods cards. Two more goods are turned over, said to belong to Jacob Fugger (Jacob the Rich). Jacob even gets his own card in the game, placed face up as if he were at the table with you. Players then take turns, either playing a card or drawing one—not both. You can’t even choose the draw card option unless you have less than five cards in hand. The cards you’re laying down face-up represent the goods you’ll sell for profit at the end of the round. Cards left in your hand are worth nothing, but are retained for subsequent rounds (a full game usually takes several).

Exactly when the round ends, and what value each good is worth are where the game’s strategy lies. Or probably tactics. It’s difficult to say how much longer-term control you have in this game. Some feel you’re at the mercy of the cards you’re dealt, simply playing them the best you can. I disagree, finding some multi-turn considerations throughout the game. However, it is true that you will be limited by the cards you’ve got—and foiled by the actions of your opponents.

During the first two rounds of the game each player has one extra option: to play a goods card face-down. This is a future investment, one that won’t pay off at the end of the round but rather at the end of the game. And when it pays, it pays double.

A round ends immediately when a player lays the 5th card of a single good onto the table. That’s among all players (including Jacob the Rich), so the player triggering the end of the round could have several of that type or even just one. Now the prices change. The good that has the five showing moves up five in price. Whichever good is second in quantity moves up that many florins, as well. Same for third, but the other two goods go down one florin. When there are ties (very common), the goods each go up the same amount. So far, so good, but there are two wrinkles. First, there’s a simple boom-bust cycle built into the game: the next step after maxing out at 9 florins is back down to just 1. (And no, you can’t go “down” from 1 back to 9—it only works one direction.) Second, a few of each good card carry a “royal seal.” These pay out double in value . . . but only if they’ve got a certain rarity: no more than three of that type of goods showing. Otherwise they just pay out at the regular rate. (So there’s no downside, only perhaps a missed opportunity for greater profits.)

After the cards on the table are sold for profit (this score being kept on scratch paper), they’re sent to the discard pile, everyone draws two new cards (including Jacob, whose cards always go straight to the table, face-up), and another round begins. Interspersed in the draw pile of goods cards are just a few merchant cards. These aren’t sold like the other goods cards, but if played to the table during a round they permit bonus card draws at the start of a subsequent round. They’re also a good stalling tactic.

These rounds continue until at least one player surpasses a score of 100 florins, whereupon all of the face-down, long term investment cards pay off (double, remember?) as an endgame bonus. Highest total wins.

So there you have it, a pleasant and logical enough little economic system built around a deck of cards. All of Die Fugger feels basically right, and you can devise rationalizations for odd parts without much trouble. For example, what are those royal seals? I imagine they are special commissions or bonuses paid by the king or lord for goods that are in short supply. They don’t pay every time a good is in short supply, but one can only suppose that a merchant-banker doesn’t have control of such things. They must simply make the most of them when the opportunity arises.

Why do the most numerous goods change price by the greatest amount? A simple system of supply & demand would mean the most numerous goods drop in value ... which they do in Die Fugger, as long as they can tip over the top of that 9-to-1 florin boom-bust cycle. Other times they simply rise from 1 to 6 florins, a windfall. I’m less sure about that in terms of theme.

Keep in mind also that there’s never a sense of buying low, selling high. That’s because you never buy anything in the game, you only sell. The cards are simply given to you: at the start of the game, at the start of each round, or by using an action. Using an action is essentially an “expense” on your part, since it’s done instead of laying down a card for later profit. But it still doesn’t feel like a purchase (especially since you have no control over what you draw—a variant using a Web of Power/Ticket To Ride style card draft might be interesting).

As mentioned above, I don’t believe you’re at the mercy of the cards you draw. You’re merely constrained momentarily by them. Even a lowly pair of cards can be enough to control the flow (timing) of a round. You want to push opponents’ goods over the top in price so they bottom-out at 1 florin. A slow & steady approach with your own goods is better. Having two rounds paying out at 6 and 8 florins each is much better than overshooting the market. Saving the goods cards with royal seals is smart, as could be the counter-strategy of playing them early to draw out similar cards from your opponents. You should also consider using one of the middle rounds to build a hand for the endgame, playing off cards that don’t fit your strategy and laying down merchants for bonus cards. Make sure you have a full hand at the end of that round. Doing so will score very few points, but could position you for a big push at the end.

The long-term investment cards are significant in the final scoring due to the doubled payout. You can invest in two cards of the same good—an all-or-nothing strategy for your bonus—or hedge your bets. Since these cards are out of play for the remainder of the game, it necessarily makes those goods less volatile in the marketplace. There are only nine cards for each type of good—if you and other players happen to set aside four of those cards as future investments, that good will change in price very slowly throughout the game. It almost cannot trigger the end of the round! Players paying attention should be able to detect this soon enough. Then whichever players don’t have that good as a long-term investment card had better do what they can to keep its price low at the final scoring.

Die Fugger is a game that would’ve benefited from a more typical boardgame production. The price cards never change, and could be printed on a board along with a scoring track. Jacob himself could have a dedicated space on the board. The cards tracking each good’s value could more attractively be represented by wooden tokens of matching color and shape. Of course, that would be a $25-30 boardgame in place of the existing $10 card game that fits in a pocket. Since we already have Medici, Modern Art, and other boardgames on a similar subject, I guess it’s best that there’s now an inexpensive card game option.

Possibly due to that little rulebook, Die Fugger is one of those games we’ve struggled to play without botching rules. In the beginning we seemed to always forget something, such as the doubling of the investment cards, extra cards for Jacob Fugger, or the little differences of the 2, 3, and 4-player game. Still, it’s a game I’m happy to own and eager to play. The fact that it’s so affordable and easy to store is a bonus.

Mark Johnson is a Mechanical Engineer at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, which just successfully landed the Mars rovers "Spirit" and "Opportunity."

Blue Moon
a review by Jon Waddington

Only one thing sold me on this game: Reiner Knizia. The rest of it is in most respects a potpourri of familiar things, such as fantasy races, expansions that introduce new concepts, duels decided by a simple comparison of power, and stunning artwork. Sound familiar? It is--and it isn't.

The base game comes with two decks of cards representing two races: the Hoax and the Vulca. Also included are a (superfluous but attractively illustrated) gameboard and three (superfluous but attractively molded) dragon figurines. If the cards were ordinary, this ostentatious presentation would feel a bit like a fleecing of the gullible. Thankfully, the cards, too, are overproduced. They're noticeably larger than ordinary cards, and of a very thick stock. I never riffle shuffle any cards (preferring instead to "pile shuffle" by dealing into a number of piles, then overhand shuffling--it has the twin virtues of preserving the cards and preventing clumping), but in this case, I'm not sure you could. The artwork is front and center (nearly covering the whole card), and each race is by a different artist, giving a distinct but consistent feel for each. One thing stands out: the women of Blue Moon are heavy-breasted, muscular, and prone to wearing thongs. Some also wear warpaint and put little skulls in their hair, while others have replaced their hair with, of all things, fire (in complementary hues, of course). Fortunately, the whole thing comes across less pornographic than juvenile. To quote Abraham Lincoln (and why not?), "people who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like." Overall, I find it impressive and enjoyable. I just wish it was a bit less obviously geared toward adolescent males.

Once past the superficialities, each player takes a deck of 30 cards, draws a hand of six, and then one person leads. The other player responds, and the players go back and forth until one cannot or will not continue and loses the duel. The winner earns dragons (points), and the loser gets to begin the next duel. Repeat until one player wins enough dragons to end the game, or (more likely) someone runs out of cards. A single game takes 30 minutes or so, and of course more when you're learning.

A slight majority of the cards in each deck are Characters, with the balance being made up of Leadership, Support, and Booster cards. Characters are rated in two attributes, Fire and Earth, and may also have other characteristics (some common ones being represented by icons, and others by special text). Nothing terribly new here, but it's all done well, with little ambiguity. Leadership cards provide some overarching benefit at the outset of each turn. Support cards confer a benefit that lasts until the end of a particular duel, while Boosters, well, boost a Character, but only for one round of card play. You see, in order to stay in a duel, you must play a Character each round, possibly followed by either a Support or a Booster (but not both). The power of that Character must at least match the current level shown by your opponent in Fire or Earth (the element does not change during a duel, and is announced when the opening Character is played). Most significantly, each new Character that comes into play covers up the prior one (if any). Each round of the duel, then, you're starting mostly from scratch, but with a typically increased level of power that you must meet or beat. At the end of each round, you refresh your hand to six again.

The victory conditions in the game have that nice Knizia touch, seeming straightforward at first, but then proving to have layers of subtlety. The most common way for the game to end is for one player to run out of cards. This may be by intent, as at the beginning of each duel you may forfeit your ability to start a duel and instead may discard up to three cards and replace them. When you win a duel, you "attract dragons" to your cause (usually one, but two if you've played six or more cards in your victory). First dragons defect from the other player to the middle, and then from the middle to you. Thus only one player (at most) will ever have dragons on their side. If you ever get all three dragons on your side, and then win one more duel, the game ends instantly. At the end of the game, victory goes to the player with dragons in front of them. If all dragons are in the middle, the player who ran out of cards first loses.

These victory conditions produce some interesting decisions. One can attract dragons early on by spending a ton of cards and then end the game before their opponent can recoup. Alternately, one can try for a balanced match and force the enemy to run out of cards first. This may be risky, but some decks are suited for this. In addition, there is another option for longer, multi-game duels that allow luck to balance out. Players vie for "crystals" in this version, and at the end of each game, one point is granted for victory, and another for each dragon held. The first player to five wins, so a full match will last at least two games, and likely more.

It becomes quite apparent after a few plays that each race has a very different feel, and demands different skills to play well. The Vulca is a fairly straightforward deck, with a lot of power. They are easier to play than the other base game race, The Hoax. Hoax Characters tend to be weaker, but they have clever ways of drawing their opponent's strength out and then altering the playing field, so that what was once an advantage turns into an overuse of resources. These differences in style are also present in the Flit expansion, which has an enormous advantage in reusing their typically weak cards, and the Mimix expansion, which are very powerful but burn through their deck quickly.

An important point to note is that this is not a collectible card game (CCG). There are no rarities, no de facto obsolescence, no advantage in owning ten of a particular card. It is expandable, certainly, but that is a very different thing. Each set contains a few cards from other races (though the sets are clearly marked in terms of their origin for ease of reassembly--a nice touch), and there are rules for deckbuilding if you wish to go that route. You needn't, though, as it's apparent that great care went into constructing and balancing the out-of-the-box decks. Each card's relative power is shown by a number of moons (from zero to four). Decks always consist of 30 unique cards from the deck's race, and then allow the substitution of up to 10 moons worth of cards from other decks. The constraints ensure that decks won't ever entirely lose their racial flavor, but a wide variety is possible.

As in most CCGs, though, playing well (as opposed to merely playing) does require a thorough knowledge of both decks in play. This is often trumpeted as a flaw of CCGs, as the play environment is so large that total knowledge becomes more like doctoral research than gameplay. It's certainly a factor here, but each deck consists of only 30 cards, many of which are likely to be present even in a constructed deck due to the limits mentioned above. It's a potential environment of 240 cards (currently only 120), which is extremely manageable in CCG terms, but may be a bit much if you don't go for that sort of thing.

The core decision of every turn is whether to stay in, or--in poker terms--fold. Most of the time, the more cards you spend, the greater your chance of victory. However, getting out early is sometimes the best course of action if you get your opponent to overcommit. But you must not let your opponent get an unassailable lead, as even if he runs out of cards, it's meaningless if he holds dragons at the end. Complicating things, once a duel becomes an investment of six cards or more, the consequences become much higher (remember, at this point you get two dragons for winning, not just one). Finding the proper balance is tricky, and enjoyable. In addition (and quite naturally), the best special powers tend to be associated with the low-powered Characters, providing a strong incentive to play them, but making it unlikely (due to their power being covered by the next Character) that they'll provide the good you hoped for.

In the end, I find I'm enjoying this game more than I thought I would at first. It grows on you, and as you become more familiar with the intricacies, the game reveals a surprising amount of depth. There are nits to pick, of course. In the same way that a Boris Vallejo wall calendar is out of place in a professional office or above the family dining table, the game's artwork may be off-putting or inappropriate. It's not a juvenile game, by any means; but from the outside looking in, it comes off that way. I also wish, as I often do with games that are intended to be asymmetric, that it was comprehensively asymmetric. Instead, many cards from each race are functionally identical. A minor gripe, but it detracts from both the theme (is one individual exactly like another?) and the gameplay (shouldn't each race feel completely, not mostly, different?). Another minor gripe is card balance; a few are just plain better than others with the same number of moons. Because of deck restrictions, you can't stack up all the "best" cards, but it's annoying nonetheless to always avoid a card in deck construction in favor of its big brother.

On balance, though, the positives outweigh the negatives. It manages to be a strongly themed game, in part because of the artwork, but also because each race does play differently. It has tactical and even some strategic depth, as determining one's best course of action is difficult, and requires not only some understanding of the card environment, but also your opponent's psychology. Knizia has been rightly accused in past of games which feel like math equations, but Blue Moon is not of that ilk. It's more about timing and proper management than it is about juggling numbers in your head. Luck is certainly present, but I feel at this point that it's much less than it seems when you play your first game. There are undoubtedly times when you will suffer through no fault of your own, but due in part to the small size of the deck, it often works out that a disadvantage in one stage of the game is balanced by an advantage in another. Measuring the extent of each, and learning how to ride out poor draws, is a large part of the fun and skill in the game. For those on the fence because this looks and smells a bit too much like a CCG, I think it's appropriate to look at this as a deeper, more complex evolution of one of Knizia's simpler duelling games (such as Attacke/Ivanhoe or the card play in Taj Mahal). Knizia is a master at wringing the most out of seemingly simple mechanics, and while this game is admittedly a bit more complex than many of his games, it's yet another example of the good Doctor's mastery of game design.

Jon Waddington still lives in the Denver area. Thanks for the second review this month Jon!

San Juan
a review by M. Barnes

I love Puerto Rico as much as, well, everyone else who plays board games does but nonetheless I greeted the announcement that San Juan would be Andreas Seyfarth's follow-up to his 2002 tour de force with rolled eyes and a groan. Was Seyfarth copping out on the challenge to meet or exceed PR's success, popularity, and innovation? Or was this just another example of the commercial trend for successful games to develop in lines of repackaged or rethemed games such as the Settlers and Carcassonne franchises? I was disappointed that such a talented designer wasn't doing something new, particularly in light of recent releases such as Attika and the last several Leo Colovini games. I wanted something new, not just a Puerto Rico card game.

San Juan is indeed a simplified, reworked version of its bigger brother. Almost all of the core mechanics and clever innovations have been rehashed into the card game format appended by the luck element intrinsic to card games. The art is largely the same, the roles are more or less the same, and the flow of the game is the same. The governor starts the round, picks a role and performs it with a special privilege and the other players follow suit. The goal is to develop your plantation with production and violet buildings; the game ends when someone builds 12 and the victory points are counted. Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before.

Simplified? Reworked? Rehashed? Allow me to rephrase that. Streamlined. Lean. Perfected. And it's something fairly new.

San Juan is awesome. Most will undoubtedly prefer Puerto Rico because it is far and away the meatier, richer game. But San Juan is so lithe and agile you'll be amazed at the quality of gaming it provides in such a compact package.

Seyfarth has basically done to his own Puerto Rico what German games have done for the old guard of gamer's games. He's cut out all the inessential, detailed bits. He's abstracted his own abstraction of colonizing Puerto Rico, sacrificing some of the specificity of PR without losing too much of the richness and depth of the original game . Broken down to its atomic structure, there really isn't much to San Juan but what's there is so ferociously stripped down it's like listening to the Sex Pistols after hearing any given Rush song.

The San Juan system is essentially the skeleton of Puerto Rico with the muscle and tissue of a multi-tiered card game system whereby the cards represent not only your building potential but also your currency and your goods produced at production buildings. Drawing cards not only provides you with a larger range of possible buildings but also fills your coffers. There's some really nice decision making at times- use the Silver Smelter to pay for the lower-yield but cheaper Sugar Mill to produce something next round or wait to build the more lucrative building? Producing goods and trading them (the good old Producer and Trader phases modified by a very simple market value system that replaces the Trading House and the Capitain phase) is one way to get more cards, but there's also a new Councilor role which lets you select from a number of drawn cards so you can mititgate the luck factor when you just can't find that Library. The buildings themselves provide victory points and special abilities for different phases such as earning cards for producing more than one good at a time, reducing building costs, giving bonus points at the end of the game (like the large buildings in PR). Of course, there are many great combinations of cards to be discovered as the role selection privilege is cumulative with card effects - it's always a joy building a 6 building for only two cards and then getting to draw a card due to the effect of another building. Or producing four goods on one round and drawing 6 cards on the next trader phase.

There are many ways to play San Juan successfully, and this is surely testament to the game's depth and lasting appeal. You can try to produce as much as possible to maximize your ability to build high-value buildings or monuments. You can race to build the inexpensive buildings to rush the game to a premature end for the other players. You can focus on denying your opponents the ability to do anything, prospecting at key times or building while they're empty-handed. As I've stated, there is definitely an element of luck but if you're skilled with the various available approaches to winning, it doesn't matter. The key is that there is an absolute demand for flexibility, particularly in the opening. The game just gets better when you know what cards to look for and what combinations are the best for what you're trying to do.

The genius of the system is that you'll never draw a worthless card. Even if your strategy doesn't call for the building of monuments, you can still spend the cards on something else or stow them away at a Chapel for points at the end of the game. This makes all the difference in the world to me- there are few things I hate in gaming more than drawing worthless cards that either can't be used for anything worthwhile or require some special condition to be useful. Simply put, the San Juan system is a model of how strategic card games should be designed to mitigate (but not eliminate) the effects of luck.

The Gold Mine sucks. That's my only complaint. Its inclusion in a relatively well balanced set of cards is mysterious to me. It's the only card that can actually be detrimental to you as it can result in a wasted prospector phase. Some have said the Library is overpowered (it doubles the role selection privilege) but I've seen Library-centric strategies beaten time and time again by skilled play.

Be warned that this is not an interactive or social game, just like its predecessor. You cant directly effect what your opponents are doing but I think that's absolutely fine as both games are much more about exploiting opportunities and working through the mechanics to win. It plays tremendously well with two - veterans can tear through a game in 20 minutes - and it is a good option for 3 and 4 player groups that want the PR experience without the length. It's also very easy to teach. It's very portable and comes with its own real wooden pencil and scorepad, which I find charming in an old-timey sort of way.

So maybe Seyfarth will leave Puerto Rico behind next time; or will he open the floodgates for endless expansions and religious themed variants? It matters not; San Juan is a must-have for the gamer of dignity and refined taste.

This is the second of M. Barnes' triptych of reviews this month.

Finstere Flure
a review by Michael W.

Friedman Friese is as well known for his freaky hair colour and F fetish as he is for his funky games. Coming off his successful, yet odd, Fische, Fruppen, Frikadellen (Fish, Hamburgers, Cigarettes), Finstere Flure (Sinister Corridors or Fiendish Floors depending on your translation preferences) is a light-weight racing game with a very fun theme.

In a feeble attempt to keep the storyline from Fische going, Friese this time has the players each representing a faction, trying to escape Count Furst Fieso's dungeon, all while being stalked by the fearsome Furunkulus. The Fiesto tie-in is tenuous at best though, and players who haven't played Fische will have no problems picking up Finstere Flure's theme and flavour. In actuality, the theme owes much more to the pulp comics of the 50's published by EC (Vault of Horror, Tales from the Crypt) than it does to Friese's previous work, and will likely be a hit with any horror buff.

The dungeon is represented by a large, gridded board with appropriate bones and stains thrown in for good measure. The players start on one corner, and over the course of the game, attempt to elude the monster (an entertaining 'do it yourself' aspect as the game comes with a collection of parts with which you fashion your own) while making their way to the exit. To make things more interesting along the way, the dungeon is littered with blocks (to hide behind), blood slicks (to slide quickly over) and teleporters (only for the use of Furunkulus!).

Game play works as follows:

Each player controls 3-4 character tokens (depending on the number of players), charmingly themed to such things as the Addams Family, the FBI, and Geeks, each with a total movement value of 7 over the course of two turns. On one side of the character, for instance, a token might allow a big movement of 6 spaces, but on the flip side, which dictates movement for the following turn, it will only be able to move 1 space!

During each turn the players alternate moving tokens, until everyone has had the opportunity to move all of their pieces. Then one of the monster's movement tiles (conveniently shaped like tombstones) is flipped over indicating how far it will move during the turn. Numbers range from the low (5) to the potentially very high (Two Kills, with a maximum move of 20 (!!) to accomplish it).

The monster then moves based on what it can see. It starts by looking left, right, and then forward. If it sees no one, then it takes a step forward and repeats the process. If it sees someone, it will immediately turn toward them, and take a step. If it sees two or more tokens it will head toward the nearest one, while two equally distant characters serve to confuse it, and make it take a step forward rather than changing direction.

This simple 'program' makes it fairly easy to predict where the monster will go, but it also makes devious 'monster leading' possible, often to disastrous results.

Of course, the dungeon is large, so the monster is given some advantages to get around. Firstly, all of the walls are marked with letters of the alphabet. If the monster runs into a wall, it will then be teleported across the board to the matching letter. This can make for some very nasty surprises if the players aren't prepared for it!

Additionally in the advanced game (the only version of the rules I'd recommend playing for regular gamers) 2 sets of additional teleporter tiles exist, which are set up in the dungeon itself. Like the wall teleportation, these are off limits to the players, but offer some interesting ways to make the monster appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to wreck havoc on unsuspecting victims.

The entire game consists of two rounds of 7 turns each. At the conclusion of the first round any 'eaten' character tokens are returned to their owner and can be used again. The winner is the first person to get 3 (assuming a 2-4 player game) of their tokens out of the dungeon. If no one is able to get that many free, then the winner is the person with the most out at the conclusion of the game with ties being broken by escape order.

The end product is a light-hearted, light-weight race game. Players regularly are tempted to woo the monster toward foes, only to have their carefully laid plans backfire at the last moment by an unfortunate (for them) tile draw, or a nasty last ditch manuever by an opponent.

The balance between getting out quickly and interfering with one's foes is also well done. Many games I've seen a player grab an early lead by getting two of their tokens out, only to have their remaining two mauled as the other players conspire against them. Having fewer tokens on the board is actually a liability in this game, as you have less control over where the monster is heading, and have fewer opportunities to lure it away when one of your tokens is about to be turned into dinner.

Are there problems with the game?

Undoubtedly.

First, if the players are intent upon it, they can completely avoid the monster with a large degree of success. This is entirely due to the movement system, which makes the distance travelled random, but the destination crystal clear. If the group plays FF with avoidance as a goal then the fun factor slips down several notches.

Secondly, it really needs to be played quickly for the system to work. If players overanalyze things, then the game turns into a drab, almost clinical puzzle, and there are no surprises. This kind of pure strategy option works well for heavier games, but for FF, which is clearly meant to be on the lighter end of the spectrum, it can really bring the game down. For this reason I advocate making a conscious effort to play quickly, even utilizing a timer if necessary to keep the pace up.

Overall however, I consider Finstere Flure to be a fun, replayable and very accessable game. The variable set up of the blocks, slicks, and teleporters serve to keep things fresh, and it works very well as an opener or closer for an evening of gaming, as it has a very short set-up time. The game system has a low enough amount of luck to reward good play, yet enough inherent chaos to keep things interesting, and for that reason I'd also consider it a good 'bridge' game between the casual set and the more hardcore. If the theme doesn't make you squeamish I'd also recommend it as a good family game. It's certainly not a brain burner (perhaps a brain eater) by any stretch, but sometimes a little light-hearted fun is what I'm looking for, and Finstere Flure fills that niche admirably.

Michael W. is currently studying European History in Michigan. Between Toronto Maple Leaf games he likes to fit in a few rounds of Princes of Florence.

Dwarven Dig!
a review by Damon Asher