Grumpy Old Man: A New Direction for This Blog?

When I logged into Blogger this morning, I was reminded that it has almost been four years since I wrote a blog post. Initially, this was a shock, but as I thought it through, I realized that it wasn't so shocking. A lot has happened to me in four years: got a job in 2022; got very much into guitar in 2023 as a kind of mid-life crisis; turned 50 in 2024; lost the job in 2026; got a new job in 2026; and, now, I'm a grumpy old man.

That last part is a joke. 😀

Yet, as I write this post in 2026, I am less sanguine about the world, even though God is in complete control of everything going on. The emergence of AI, the weird, alarming, meteoric rise of socialism in the United States, the invasion of certain other ideologies, and the rise and fall of two presidents who made more than their share of mistakes and broke promises have tempted me to become less optimistic and more cynical about things. I have come to realize that no media outlet is even partially trustworthy, that social media is engineered to create addiction and enthrallment, and that almost all of the famous people who smile through their teeth at us are just dancing clowns for a Satanic agenda of which they are not even aware (and if they are, then we are seeing evil in real time). We can't trust anyone who tells us what to do, how the world is, and what to think. Indeed, for most people, the world may be a darker, more foreboding place.

Thankfully, and I'll just say this once in this post: we have Jesus. If you don't believe in him, read the Bible starting with the book of John. If you believe in him, then you are meant to be the light in this darkness. Do NOT let this world and the powers and principalities of darkness extinguish your light.

With all of this said, as a self-proclaimed "grumpy old man," I feel that it is more important than ever to find the little things in daily life that inspire and elevate us. With the time available to me, I will still write about the occasional board game and retro video game, but I will also talk about my reborn passion: guitar, including pedals, pickups, and potentiometers. Also, I will write about the single greatest light source, which I mentioned earlier.

I should mention that blogs and vlogs tend to be a bit self-aggrandizing, as if any one person's thoughts and feelings are more noteworthy than someone else's. Thankfully, this blog is (hopefully) anonymous, so I can share my thoughts without worrying about me boosting my reputation or standing. This is the angle from which I write: these are my musings, nothing more. If they strike a chord with you, feel free to comment. If not, you can comment as well. 

 

Trash or Treasure? #3: Pandemic

Up until, say, the early 1990s, if you grew up in the United States, Canada, (maybe) Britain, and (possibly) Australia, you grew up with the popular board games, like Monopoly, Clue (or Cluedo), Scrabble, Stratego, Risk, Life, and so on. Indeed, the board game producers Parker Brothers and Milton Bradley seemed to monopolize (pun intended) our childhood board game culture. Interestingly, though, there was a surprising lack of cooperative strategic games. Sure, games like Pictionary and Taboo were cooperative party games, but there was little strategy involved, per se (note: I'm not going to argue about the tactics of Taboo, which involve knowing your teammates so that you can provide the best clues).

Pandemic was not the first cooperative strategy game; to my knowledge, Shadows over Camelot pre-dated it by three years, and dungeon crawl games existed long before that. Yet, Pandemic was certainly the most impactful in the golden age of Eurogames. Released in 2008, Pandemic is a 2-5 player game (though you could play 2-5 roles by yourself) in which each player assumes a role that grants them a unique ability. During each turn, the active player can perform up to four actions, such as moving from one city to another, or performing one or more special actions, such as removing one disease cube from an infected city per action. However, each role has abilities that bend these rules; for instance, the ever-useful Medic role can remove all of one type of disease cubes in a city with only one action.  

After the four actions are completed, the player draws two cards. Then, the player draws three City cards; the first City card drawn requires the players to put three disease cubes on the indicated city; the second City gets two cubes; and the third city gets one cube. Each city were infected with a specific disease cube depending on the region (e.g. Asia generally gets the red disease cubes). In this way, each player plays his turn, and then plays as the game's artificial intelligence (AI), so to speak. I would guess that playing as the game AI was not a novel concept, but that combined with cooperative play created a feeling that everyone was somehow creating their own problems despite themselves.

Gameplay ends when all four diseases are "cured," which results in victory for the players. If the players fail to do that before all of one particular disease's cubes (25 of them) have been deployed, the draw pile is completed depleted, or before there have been eight Outbreaks (when a city exceeds three of one disease's [color] cubes, which cases excess cubes to spread to neighboring cities), they lose. Everyone loses -- not one player... Everyone. Of course, I'm excluding several details because I want to avoid a rules explanation; the basic idea is that you win as a team, and you lose as a team, which was not a common concept, especially among the Parker Brothers and Milton Bradley games.

With an accessible theme, a one-hour play time, a low price point of around $30 USD in 2008, and a smaller box than a lot of the connoisseur games out at the time, Pandemic ascended to the throne of quintessential gateway co-op board game. The first release featured wooden cubes (which seemed just so en vogue at the time), sleek and simple art, and (later on) an expansion that added a "Bio-Terrorist" role and a purple-colored disease. The ascension of Pandemic was such that stores like Target and Barnes & Noble prominently displayed it in their game aisles. My first exposure to it was in 2010 when a few friends at work invited me to play with them during the lunch break. Instantly, I realized the family potential of it; even my young sons could play and enjoy it. When I purchased it and brought it home, my boys appreciated it, though my wife found the theme (and the rapid spread of disease cubes) disconcerting and unenjoyable. Nonetheless, I comprehended the impact of Pandemic in hobby gaming.

As of 2022, there are numerous co-op offerings, such as Gloomhaven, Battlestar Galactica, Robinson Crusoe, Saboteur, Forbidden Island/Desert, and the aforementioned Shadows over Camelot; there are team versus team co-op games like Captain Sonar and Specter Ops; and there are versions of Pandemic that involve making permanent changes to the cards and game board, such as Pandemic Legacy.

Should I trash or treasure Pandemic?

At a Game Weight of 2.47 on Board Game Geek, Pandemic is challenging enough for seasoned gamers to enjoy, yet easy enough to learn to attract casual gamers. It can be played in an hour, which may be a great transition game between two more complex games or the primer game before the multi-hour game starts. Whatever the case, Pandemic is often a suitable choice for any game night.

If I am really hankering to play a cooperative game, though, I prefer the deeper Robinson Crusoe, which has so much going for it: superlative art, lots of mechanics at work, and a weird sense of foreboding that reminds me of the television show Lost (minus the Smoke Monster). An amusing semi-cooperative game I also favor is Between Two Castles of Mad King Ludwig, which compels you to cooperate with your neighbors, but not TOO much.

Because my copies of Pandemic and the expansion are vintage, first-edition versions, I will not be selling them. That iteration of Pandemic is a work of art and fun to unpack and set up. Occasionally, I bring it out to teach Gen Xers and Millennials how co-op games work. There is no shame in keeping this classic, and the box (even with the expansion) is still slimmer than many of my other games, so it doesn't take up much space.

Should you trash or treasure Pandemic?

For the first two games I discussed in this Trash or Treasure series, I could not convince myself to recommend trashing them... and I still cannot suggest trashing Pandemic. It is the archetypal cooperative game that serves as a fine gateway into a world of tying your success or failure with other players. There are some wonderful gateway games you could acquire, such as Forbidden Island or Forbidden Desert, which just so happen to be designed by Matt Leacock, who designed Pandemic. Either one of those games boast more whimsical themes, adorable miniatures, and sweet tin boxes instead of cardboard boxes. Yet, I ended up selling my copy of Forbidden Desert because, well, I own Pandemic. Thus, I have little choice but to advise you to treasure it.

Despite that, if you own Pandemic, I would venture a guess and say that you may not miss it if you gave it away or donated it. There are many other cooperative games that are good gateway games, fine complex games, or even more cutthroat team versus team games. I am tempted to argue that Pandemic is a bit vanilla, but a game that revolves around disease is just a bit too topical nowadays. In any case, there are enough choices out there to find a co-op game that appeals to you thematically.

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One more thing: due to the ubiquity of Pandemic, you would be hard-pressed to sell it for profit. Most people can purchase it locally at a big-box store, so paying shipping to buy a used copy may not make economic sense. Consider donating it at a thrift store to spread the hobby to others. You may have a friend who is new to the hobby; you could teach Pandemic to that friend and give him the copy. Regard Pandemic as a powerful way to open people up to hobby board gaming, so it would be worthwhile to give it away.

What to Do If... A Game is Just So Adorable?!

Castles of Burgundy is widely considered one of the best strategy games in the board game hobby and designer Stefan Feld's masterpiece. Ranked at 19 on Board Game Geek's website, Castles of Burgundy combines dice, tile placement, and lots of ways to score to form a tight puzzle of a game with just enough player interaction not to feel like you are playing Solitaire on an airplane tray table. If you have not had a chance to play it, get online, find a copy of the game, and spend the requisite $30 to buy it right now... Don't wait - - it's worth your time.

Now, if you have played it before, or if you just received it through Amazon Prime shipping and you are punching out the tiles, you know that this game is as homely as it is well-designed. With sketchy (literally) art, floppy card stock, and enough beige to make a medieval monk blush. Oh, and must I mention that the theme is as pasted-on as your novelty version of Monopoly? For as much craft and care was infused in the rules and tactics, very little emphasis was placed on the art design as if Mr. Feld truly didn't want anything beautiful to distract the players. Castles of Burgundy is as vanilla as it gets (but I believe that was intentional, even by early 2000s game art standards).

Fast forward twenty or so years to 2022. Art standards and production values continue to surge upward. Kickstarter, Gamefound, and other crowdfunding sites are replete with games that feature meticulously molded figures, vivid card art, and high-quality paper with just the right rigidity and thickness. One would be hard-pressed to find any (successful) game on a crowdfunding site that does not boast incredible illustrations and highly detailed miniatures. Likewise, established game producers like Asmodee, Z-Man Games, and Gale Force Nine Games (I'm kind of excluding Queen Games and Alea/Ravensburger here... They sometime err on the side of bland) undeniably pursue artistic excellence when it comes to board games. Conversely, I can only imagine the number of games that may have some ingenious mechanics or brilliant game design that end up falling to the wayside because the designer (possibly Queen Games or Alea/Ravensburger) did not have the business acumen or foresight (which would be mildly ironic for a strategic game designer not to predict marketplace failure) to hire an artist who was not her cousin or dodgy neighbor with a community college arts degree (not to denigrate people with community colleges). To state it simply, in the world of board games, art tends to cover the warts of mediocre game design much more than superior game design obfuscates cheesy drawings.

In any case, that is not the precise point of this article, though the point is still relevant. Actually, I am looking at those board (and card) games that possess an affable quality -- a certain je-ne-sais-quoi --that I can only identify as "cute." If you saw these kinds of games, you'd know what I am talking about. Here's a classic example: Carcassonne. Yeah, that tile-laying game with the "meeples" that, for a time, became ubiquitous as other games appropriated these pieces. There is just something so adorable about putting a meeple on a bucolic field tile as if it is having a rest. If you look closely at the tile, you might spy sheep frolicking in the countryside. Another cute game (in my estimation) is Boss Monster. I relish looking at those 8-bit-rendered heroes and villains; it sends me back to those days when I would play Legend of Zelda on my Nintendo, and then slam my controller down in frustration as Link died due to some suspect maneuver (Okay, calm down, calm down...). A lot of the Tiny Epic games are lovable with their tiny zombies, motorcycles, and weapons. Have you seen the illustrations of Belfort or Harbour (goodbye, Tasty Minstrel Games)? I even find the animeeples of Agricola scrumptious with those sheepish little sheep and the cows that look so at-home in your house (or in your Cooking Hearth).

There are a ton of examples of cuteness in board games, whether it is a small aspect of the game or a greater part of its design (Bunny Kingdom or Stuffed Fables, anyone?). Sadly, though, cuteness has a way of covering up the gangrene underneath... Okay, that's a bit extreme, but it is similar to the point I made earlier: beauty covers up poor game design (perfume on a pig?) much more effectively than great game design covers up blandness. Some games can win you over with something that you could figuratively hug and squeeze with overflowing affection. It is only when you have purchased such a game, unpacked it, and played it to realize that you have been seduced by cuteness. So, what do you do if a game is just so adorable? Here are my tips...

If you haven't bought it, research it.

This is a no-brainer, but sometimes we have to pause, take a beat, and think about the game. There are quite a few games that look great on the store shelf. You may examine the board game box and feel drawn to a bunny or a teddy bear on the cover. Look up the game on Board Game Geek immediately on your smartphone (Does anyone still have dumb phones? If so, I salute you!). Read a few reviews. Then, convince yourself that the cute game is not that great. When all else fails, take a picture of that lovable element on the box, print it, frame it, and hang it in your game room as a trophy signifying your ability to overcome a questionable decision.

If you already bought it, be open to liking it.

I know there are folks out there that would have no compunction about listing cute games on eBay after one play, but I recommend playing the game a few times to determine truly if you do not like it. Just because a game is not "good" does not mean that you would not like it. If you browse Board Game Geek's website enough, you may discover numerous reviews for pretty, yet perfectly mediocre games. Let's face it: if the game is adorable enough, you might find it in your heart to overlook its flaws and embrace the art.

If you bought the game and just loathe it, consider this...

What about keeping the "cute" part of the game and discarding the rest? Maybe you can cannibalize the tokens for another game, cut the pages or cards you like and make a fun scrapbook, or even make up your own rules. I have heard stories of people rewriting the rules for a game or creating a new game with parts from another. Personally, I have been known to take the gorgeously detailed coins out of one game and use them for another.

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Ultimately, to quote some random Star Wars character, "do not be seduced by the Dark side." A lot of game producers put great effort, time, and market research into crafting games that people would buy. If they are truly smart, they do their best to capture the "casual" gamer; if they can convince the "average" consumer that a cute game is a must-have item, then the game producer has done well and can be gainfully employed. She can spend her earnings at Starbucks or pay next month's rent. And, in a way, you can feel good that you have helped a starving game designer survive one more month.

When it comes down to it, game design and production is a business and people are just trying to feed themselves and/or their families, so the workers in this industry endeavor to sell games, even if they are duds with a pretty coat of paint. Be discerning, take a breath, and allocate times towards researching. I told my sons the same thing about dating: instead of jumping into a relationship, observe, take the time to know the girl, and pray. Of course, if you can ignore the warts and psychoses, maybe a "cute" game is all you need. Just be prepared to deal with a lot of baggage (am I still talking about dating?).