The Inebriated Paul Tevis Random Accent Generator and Other Tales: An Orc Con 08 After Action Report

“I hate this game.”

That’s what

 said to me, his hands holding the combat wheel. His eyes were wide with concentration, considering acceptable losses. His voice and face had that look of sincere comic insincerity that only a few men can do. Matt does it very well. Then, he looked up at me again, the same look in his eyes, the same voice.

“And John? I hate you.”

We were playing Dune: one of my favorite board games. Matt introduced the game to me and I’ve made playing the game with Matt at every con a goal. I love playing games with Matt. He falls into the category of people who teach me as I watch them play. He’s a much better player than I am, much more familiar with the game, and I learn every time we play together. He’s also a good sport about both winning and losing–something else I appreciate greatly.

“You know what I hate about games without dice, John?” he asked me. I shook my head. “You can only blame yourself when things go wrong.”

The Dune game was on Saturday and I had already burned most of the fuel in my tank. I was running Houses of the Blooded games all weekend. My second primary goal (the first to play Dune with Matt). The games went very well. Two games Friday, Saturday and Sunday each: full, with multiple alternates. I got a wide spectrum of players–those familiar with the game, unfamiliar with the game, ready to accept the narrative focus of task resolution, etc. The players took a moment or two adjusting to the new concepts, but then jumped in with eager feet. Everyone was laughing and taking extensive notes. At the end of each game, everyone gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I told them, “Be sure to talk about the game on your blogs!” They all promised. We’ll see what happens.

I thought about playing in one of the LARPS but reconsidered. My faithful companion 

attempted to play in a gangster LARP that fell through. She spent most of the weekend taking notes while I ran the game, making sure I always had a key to the room I was staying in, and ran out to the grocery store, coming back with six bags full of food when we discovered the lack of affordable local fare.

Sunday, I had two scheduled games. Both went well. The second saw some old friends showing up to play my game. Afterward, they asked me to come out to the old apartment (the BNL song was going through my head) to run the game there for more folks.

 showed up and played as well. We went until the wee hours and drove back to the hotel, crashing after more than 14 hours of running my game.

Monday, I was dead, but I still found enough energy to play a game of Sons of Liberty. I picked up the game earlier (along with the handsome t-shirt) and 

 and I got to play with Josh. I played Thomas Payne and

 played the Martin Sisters. Fun was had by all. My favorite mechanic for the game–and one of my favorite mechanics in just about any game–is how the Game Master can thwart the plans of the players. The card he plays represents the actions of the British or their sympathizers, abusing the natural liberties of the colonists. Thus, the number on the card–from one to ten–corresponds with the Bill of Rights. “Play an ace to break up groups of colonists or shut down communications… play a deuce to disarm colonists of any weapons… play a six to convict colonists of any crime and sentence them to imprisonmen, hard labor or death…” Like I said, this is one of my favorite mechanics in just about any game, sitting right up there with using Zerner cards in Conspiracy X for the psychic powers system. Damn clever, damn fun, and damn I wish I had thought of it.

Monday was also the day Los Angeles almost killed the aforementioned Josh. At the restaurant, the chicken he ordered came out rotten. Not “rotten” in a metaphorical way, but “rotten” in “this meat is spoiled and I’m gonna get some kind of poisoning if I swollow” kind of way. Then, the over-priced restaurant didn’t remove the dish from the table’s bill. Bad form.

 took care of that.

Monday was also the day we discovered the Inebriated Paul Tevis Random Accent Generator. Apparently, the Mighty Mighty Paul Tevis adopts local color when he has one too many. In Irish pubs, he develops a brogue. In honky tonk bars, he picks up a drawl. I’d like to see what happens if we give him one too many swigs of Romulan Ale at the Star Trek Experience.

The flight home was uneventful. We watched lights out the window. Found the car in parking, drove home, ate Chef Boyardee and crashed out just in time to get four hours of sleep before my shift on Teusday. My twelve hour shift of assisting priests and nuns with computer problems. Which is where I am now, writing this between angry calls, remembering my weekend and all the great people I got to see.

Oh, and Matt? I hate you, too. See you in May.