Carcassonne
Alan writes...
I had a couple of false starts when it came to getting into gaming. All the talk of 'gateway games' isn't for nothing - pick the wrong game and you'll be put off. I blundered into Static Games in Glasgow a few years back and stumbled back out with MidEvil. There were a few attempts to play it, but it just didn't seem fun at all. Despite the nice theme and components, it felt cheap and random lacked any tension or meaningful strategy. It sat unloved on my shelf.
Flash forward to a few months ago, and I read this article in Wired:
Instead of direct conflict, German-style games tend to let players win without having to undercut or destroy their friends. This keeps the game fun, even for those who eventually fall behind. Designed with busy parents in mind, German games also tend to be fast, requiring anywhere from 15 minutes to a little more than an hour to complete. They are balanced, preventing one person from running away with the game while the others painfully play out their eventual defeat. And the best ones stay fresh and interesting game after game.
Now this was intriguing. I headed to my local game shop, where I expressed an interest in Catan.
"Who will you be playing with?" asked the owner. "Probably mostly just me and my girlfriend," I answered. I left with Carcassonne. It was a canny move by the proprietor. Carcassonne was cheaper than Settlers of Catan, but he's extracted quite a bit of money from me since, and will no doubt continue to do so. Carcassonne drew us in, and has retained its magic - and I suspect it will be a long time before we're bored with it. It should have a place in every home, gamers or not, as much as the television, or the PC, or the kettle. I have a vision of a wonderful future, where pubs have a spillage-proof Carcassonne set alongside the pool table and dartboard, where kids play as much Carcassonne as video games, where it's the social lubricant it should be. It'll never happen. The world is missing out.
It should be clear now: I like Carcassonne. I'm almost delirious with glee at having discovered it, and this is without playing a single expansion (barring The River expansion that comes with the base game). I suppose I better explain why.
There's something in the components that's reminiscent of the old toys my generation never really had or was interested in, those wooden toys only seen in sentimental Christmas films. Those chunky little wooden people (or meeple as they're known) are very satisfying to handle and place on the board. Apparently it's good form when playing Go to place your piece with a confident click, and the similarly the sturdy stick-figure meeple allow you to make moves you are unsure about with apparent confidence. The wooden tiles are thick and will likely last quite some time. So that's it. Some little wooden men, some thick tiles, a scoring track. The games we grew up with had so many more pieces - Monopoly with its paper money, houses and hotels; The Game of Life with those fiddly plastic pegs and cars, even Chess with its confusing bishops and pawns (well, my set was confusing, anyway) - and nowhere near as much game. We were robbed, frankly. There's a simplicity here that's wondrous to behold.
The game itself is very easy to learn. Choose a tile. Place the tile where you want, as long as its allowed. Then, if you want, place one of your counters on that tile. If your piece is on a completed city, road, or cloister, you get it back and score points. Place a 'farmer' in a field and you lose that piece for the rest of the game, so you have to decide if you want to grab a nice looking field early and lose out on possible points elsewhere. No meeples left? Tough. You'll have to complete something before placing anything else, so while it's tempting to get all of your followers out there scoring points for you, there's always the possibility that a better opportunity may present itself with no opportunity to grab it. It's especially gutting when you have a nice cloister and nothing to place on it. That's nine points you'll never see, you think, as you glumly place the empty monastery down.
Like any great game, there's simplicity hiding depth. Once you have the main principles, you have options - do you block your opponents, or concentrate on scoring some points? Should you make this city bigger, or make sure you complete it before the end of the game for full points? What colour should I pick? (Green is out, obviously, as Gillian always picks green.) The game even adapts to your mood. If you're in a punchy mood, you can play aggressively and really annoy your opponent, trash-talking and building up the resentment that can throw your opponent into a right mood. But if it's late at night and you're just looking to relax, you can keep to your side of the board. There's a real satisfaction in putting the tiles together to create a map alone, even without the game, a sort of lazy creativity.
In short, I recommend this game wholeheartedly. It's a fantastic two-player game, and can accommodate more if you're looking to indoctrinate friends. Get it if you don't already. Dig it out again if you do. Or play the online version, which trades ease of scoring for tactility. That's not a trade I recommend long-term.
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