Gale Force Nine recently announced it’s releasing Tanks: The World War II Tank Skirmish Game in April. With the rules currently online in PDF for review and a substantial preview on the
company’s website, the game looks similar in spirit and in some
mechanical elements to the popular X-wing Miniatures, Star Trek:
Attack Wing, and D&D: Attack Wing games using the
FlightPath maneuver system. At first glance Tanks looks like
an accessible, affordable gateway to the miniatures wargaming hobby.
Frequent readers know I maintain an interest in World War II
history and gaming, and have even developed my own tank-themed
miniature wargame rules for kids, parents, and newcomers to the hobby
(Panzer Kids...more on that at the end of the feature). I’m
always interested to hear about new games in this period,
particularly ones that don’t have a huge buy-in and have rules
suitable for new players (especially children mature enough to dabble
in such pursuits). So when I heard news of Tanks’ imminent
release from Tabletop Gaming News, I dropped everything to
investigate. Gale Force Nine’s website included a host of
resources previewing the game and its components: a PDF of the full
rulebook; photos and descriptions of the contents; and pages in the
“How to Play” section demonstrating core mechanics.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Community & the Allure of the OSR
I’ve been exploring various games in the Old School Renaissance
movement (OSR) for their varied interpretations of the core material,
interesting settings, and overall nostalgic connection to the
roleplaying games of my youth. Along the way I’ve realized
something beyond the game mechanics and settings: by working with a
game engine based on Dungeons & Dragons, the original and
most popular fantasy roleplaying game, OSR designers tap into a vast
community of fans (and potential customers) who share that familiar
experience.
I’ve seen various arguments about what defines an OSR game, how
the OSR emerged from the Open Game License (OGL) of the 2000s, and,
of course, which OSR games are the most popular, true to the
originals, and innovative in their own right. I certainly don’t
wish to delve into those issues here (if at all); but the OSR
capitalizes on a confluence of familiarity – for both the designer
and audience – with not simply a core game system but a shared
gaming experience through some iteration of D&D.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Star Wars Duels Redefines “War” Card Game
I recently picked up Star Wars Duels, a card game from
Hasbro with an obviously popular theme, at the behest of the six
year-old Little Guy, who saw it on sale at our grocery store and
immediately wanted it to try for our weekly family game night. I’m
not a huge fan of card games, though we have a number we enjoy
because they’re right at the Little Guy’s level and work with
engaging themes (particularly Godzilla Stomp and Otters).
Star Wars Duels pleasantly fits into that category, combining
modified “War” gameplay with colorful images of Star Wars
characters kids love.
The 54-card deck comes with a rules flyer and a reference card for some of the symbols used in the game. They’re standard playing card-sized cards, though given the box size and the intended audience I somewhat expected slightly larger, more kid-friendly cards. Each card comes with a blue, red, or yellow border for the heroes, villains, and neutrals (mostly creatures); a full-color photograph of the character; their name; a card value from 1 to 10; and one or two symbols related to the character’s affiliation. The heroes and villains each have 23 cards, with 8 yellow cards devoted to neutrals. Card values seem a bit inconsistent, but vary from a standard playing card deck spread: 8 to 9 cards of the lower values (1–3); 4 to 7 cards of the middle values ( 4–6); and 3 to 4 cards of the highest values (7–10).
The 54-card deck comes with a rules flyer and a reference card for some of the symbols used in the game. They’re standard playing card-sized cards, though given the box size and the intended audience I somewhat expected slightly larger, more kid-friendly cards. Each card comes with a blue, red, or yellow border for the heroes, villains, and neutrals (mostly creatures); a full-color photograph of the character; their name; a card value from 1 to 10; and one or two symbols related to the character’s affiliation. The heroes and villains each have 23 cards, with 8 yellow cards devoted to neutrals. Card values seem a bit inconsistent, but vary from a standard playing card deck spread: 8 to 9 cards of the lower values (1–3); 4 to 7 cards of the middle values ( 4–6); and 3 to 4 cards of the highest values (7–10).
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Subscription Boxes
Every few months I get in a mood to rant about gaming magazines –
how nostalgically wonderful they seemed in their print heyday, the
effects of internet and PDF, and their dubious future – and I
generally rein myself in, delete much of the tirade, and perhaps get
a blog post out of what’s left (such as “Nostalgia for Gaming Magazines” and “The Vast Internet Versus Edited Periodicals”).
I even have a rambling, admittedly confused missive about the
viability of a D6 Adventure Journal sitting around somewhere
that seems to have lost its point (if it ever had one in the first
place). Yet news last week from GeekDad about War Games Supply
reminded me I’d not yet discussed a similar concept, the
subscription box approach, one pioneered in the gaming world in 2014
by Mythoard and now perpetuated by this latest venture catering to
hobby gaming enthusiasts.
Frequent readers of my magazine missives know I enjoy well-curated periodicals delivering regular doses of quality game material. A good editor not only ensures writing, layout, and art reach certain standards but in a way also curates the readers’ experience to provide them with material they’ll find interesting that enhances and expands their enjoyment. Certainly I expect a particular magazine to deliver content consistent with a focused subject, but I’m always delighted to find a periodical pushing my boundaries, forcing me to examine issues differently, or revealing something previously unknown.
Frequent readers of my magazine missives know I enjoy well-curated periodicals delivering regular doses of quality game material. A good editor not only ensures writing, layout, and art reach certain standards but in a way also curates the readers’ experience to provide them with material they’ll find interesting that enhances and expands their enjoyment. Certainly I expect a particular magazine to deliver content consistent with a focused subject, but I’m always delighted to find a periodical pushing my boundaries, forcing me to examine issues differently, or revealing something previously unknown.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
WEG Memoirs: Young Writers Workshops
Sifting through boxes in the basement often uncovers lost bits of
my past. My latest foray brought forth a small packet of papers: a
pile of photocopied Star Wars line art from West End Games
products, a sheaf of double-sided worksheet forms about creating
planets and aliens, and some note cards with talking points for a
seminar I gave way back in the mid-1990s. Long ago while working as
an editor with West End I had several opportunities to participate in
young writers’ workshops in my hometown. As a writer and editor who
worked on the Star Wars Roleplaying Game and managed its
quarterly Adventure Journal I found myself in a position to
combine the exciting Star Wars universe and my career
experiences to inspire creativity in young people. Having the
resources and professional credentials to participate in these
workshops remains one of several aspects of my work with West End I
miss.
In my early adulthood I’d always maintained contacts with my old high school where I grew up in Connecticut. At the time I still knew teachers and administrators with whom I could work to share with students the professional skills and experiences I’d recently acquired. While working as a reporter and editor at the Ridgefield Press – where I gained a great deal of my professional editing experience – I ran an after-school writers workshop at one elementary school and occasionally spoke to classes on various journalism-related subjects. When I left to edit the Star Wars Adventure Journal for West End Games I was a little more than a two-hour drive from home; so occasionally participating in school-related presentations remained possible. At the time my mother was a third-grade teacher in the town’s school system, a connection which also offered opportunities to talk about writing and publishing with kids. Perhaps the most interesting activity was an annual kids writing workshop one Saturday every spring. Here students from the town’s third, fourth, and fifth grades could sign up for the day’s activities, which included a group assembly and talk from a notable author, two subject-specific seminars, and a wrap-up writing session with educators. Being only an hour north of New York City, the workshop drew many notable news media and publisher personalities for some very diverse offerings. For two years I volunteered to give workshop presentations related to my work on science fiction and Star Wars. The first year I went on my own; the second I brought several editors from West End who had ideas for their own workshops.
In my early adulthood I’d always maintained contacts with my old high school where I grew up in Connecticut. At the time I still knew teachers and administrators with whom I could work to share with students the professional skills and experiences I’d recently acquired. While working as a reporter and editor at the Ridgefield Press – where I gained a great deal of my professional editing experience – I ran an after-school writers workshop at one elementary school and occasionally spoke to classes on various journalism-related subjects. When I left to edit the Star Wars Adventure Journal for West End Games I was a little more than a two-hour drive from home; so occasionally participating in school-related presentations remained possible. At the time my mother was a third-grade teacher in the town’s school system, a connection which also offered opportunities to talk about writing and publishing with kids. Perhaps the most interesting activity was an annual kids writing workshop one Saturday every spring. Here students from the town’s third, fourth, and fifth grades could sign up for the day’s activities, which included a group assembly and talk from a notable author, two subject-specific seminars, and a wrap-up writing session with educators. Being only an hour north of New York City, the workshop drew many notable news media and publisher personalities for some very diverse offerings. For two years I volunteered to give workshop presentations related to my work on science fiction and Star Wars. The first year I went on my own; the second I brought several editors from West End who had ideas for their own workshops.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Basic RPG Game Engines
In my gradual shift from huge roleplaying game tomes to
short-and-sweet mechanics I’ve come across a few very basic systems
that appeal to me. They might not have the depth of complexity many
other games offer – both simple and comprehensive – but they
provide a core task resolution system with potential for expansion
and an ease of adapting to various settings.
Since the dawn of roleplaying games in the 1970s gamers have tended to take existing systems and modify them to reflect their personal play style and expectations from the mechanics. Initially this came from deficiencies gamers found in the earliest versions of Dungeons & Dragons, classes, monsters, and other rules they felt the original rulebooks lacked (as Jon Peterson documents in Playing at the World). Wargamers had already been “modding” rules for years, creating new scenarios and variants for their favorite titles. The trend continued throughout roleplaying games’ further development. Some variations remained “house rules” among small groups, while others found momentum and support to become original games for publication. While I enjoy playing and house-ruling games to reflect my own expectations for established games, I find intuitive, basic core mechanics engage my urges toward more simplified systems to adapt to appealing settings.
Although the game systems that caught my eye recently have their
merits (as outlined below), this trend toward basic mechanics with
further adaptability isn’t new. S. John Ross accomplished this in
Risus: The Anything RPG way back in the 1990s with its system
of die pools assigned to broad (and often humorous) clichés; it
remains one of the most elegantly intuitive roleplaying game systems
with the potential to expand the core mechanic and ability to adapt
to any setting. The system works well in both group and solitaire
play, with the free solo adventure Ring of Thieves masterfully
demonstrating the solo potential. The basic Fighting Fantasy
system from the eponymous solitaire game books also provided a basic
framework with its Skill, Stamina, and Luck stats, each working in
their own way to determine attacks, absorb damage, and modify rolls.
(The Sorcery! series also factored in a basic,
memorization-based spell system). The mechanics worked well for the
solitaire adventures, though the self-regulated combat often devolved
into back-and-forth die-rolling contests between the hero and
monsters. An ambitious gamer could easily adapt either system from
its original form and modify it for a deeper complexity and specific
setting (though Risus remains solid on its own without much
system modification and encourages adaptability to any genre).
Since the dawn of roleplaying games in the 1970s gamers have tended to take existing systems and modify them to reflect their personal play style and expectations from the mechanics. Initially this came from deficiencies gamers found in the earliest versions of Dungeons & Dragons, classes, monsters, and other rules they felt the original rulebooks lacked (as Jon Peterson documents in Playing at the World). Wargamers had already been “modding” rules for years, creating new scenarios and variants for their favorite titles. The trend continued throughout roleplaying games’ further development. Some variations remained “house rules” among small groups, while others found momentum and support to become original games for publication. While I enjoy playing and house-ruling games to reflect my own expectations for established games, I find intuitive, basic core mechanics engage my urges toward more simplified systems to adapt to appealing settings.
Although the game systems that caught my eye recently have their
merits (as outlined below), this trend toward basic mechanics with
further adaptability isn’t new. S. John Ross accomplished this in
Risus: The Anything RPG way back in the 1990s with its system
of die pools assigned to broad (and often humorous) clichés; it
remains one of the most elegantly intuitive roleplaying game systems
with the potential to expand the core mechanic and ability to adapt
to any setting. The system works well in both group and solitaire
play, with the free solo adventure Ring of Thieves masterfully
demonstrating the solo potential. The basic Fighting Fantasy
system from the eponymous solitaire game books also provided a basic
framework with its Skill, Stamina, and Luck stats, each working in
their own way to determine attacks, absorb damage, and modify rolls.
(The Sorcery! series also factored in a basic,
memorization-based spell system). The mechanics worked well for the
solitaire adventures, though the self-regulated combat often devolved
into back-and-forth die-rolling contests between the hero and
monsters. An ambitious gamer could easily adapt either system from
its original form and modify it for a deeper complexity and specific
setting (though Risus remains solid on its own without much
system modification and encourages adaptability to any genre).Tuesday, February 16, 2016
Grown-Up Games & Kids at Play
“A game
is a form of play with goals and structure.”
As a gamer parent I encourage my son to join in my games. I’ll freely admit my enthusiasm sometimes gets the better of me, that I don’t always have realistic expectations, and that – like some parents do with sports, careers, or other interests – I gently force my own expectations on my son against his childlike wishes. Kevin Maroney’s basic definition of a game outlines a balancing act gamer parents face. Kids naturally want to play freely, but are they ready for the structure of a game, especially the more daunting structure of a game their parents enjoy?
Frequent readers know I introduced my son, the now-six year-old Little Guy, to games at an early age. He’s always been interested in Daddy’s toys despite the heaps of his own toys spread in the living room and his bedroom. Like most kids his age he enjoys going beyond the bounds with his toys, not simply playing with them as intended but crossing genres and making up his own entertainment unhindered by rules or restrictions. He’s exhibited very imaginative play tendencies, both on his own as an only child and with his parents and friends. He plays out adventures (“movies” or “episodes”) with his Godzilla, Doctor Who, and Star Wars toys, often mixing them up and substituting other toys for missing characters. With his introduction to more formalized games we started small and worked our way up from kid-level fare like Dino Hunt Dice to more sophisticated fare. We’ve rarely turned to children’s board games like Candyland that rely on random mechanics and severely limit player choice (though the completely random Destroy Death Star game proved – and continues to prove – a delightful diversion despite its total lack of player choices). He’s grown over time as we’ve explored new games, particularly ones that merge mechanics he can grasp with themes he loves.
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