And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'Guys and Dolls'. It turned out to be one of those shows/films that I would have sworn blind that I had seen before, but the watching of which made clear that I hadn't. It is, as you probably already knew, based on Damon Runyon's short stories of the inter-war New York demi-monde, and as such I was rather surprised by the uncanny resemblance to certain wargamers of my acquaintance.
It wasn't so much the unlikely names of the characters: such as Nicely-Nicely Johnson, the Seldom Seen Kid or Harry the Horse, although one of my first wargaming opponents was, and is, always known as Len the Ink (*). It was more to do with the rolling of dice. The programme contained an explanation of the rules of craps which left me none the wiser except to appreciate that it is clearly more possible to roll the wrong number than it is the right one; if that's not a pithy description of wargaming then I don't know what is. But in particular there was the solution to that problem employed by Big Jule, the Chicago mobster: he has the spots removed from a set of dice, but before it is done he memorises which side was which number so when they are rolled he can tell the other players what the blank faces currently uppermost would have been displaying. Tell me that you don't know a wargamer like that.
Anyway, here's Marlon Brando annoying Frank Sinatra both in and out of character:
* Also several decades ago I shared a house with the Teddy Bear Kid, but that's a digression for another day.
And so to the opera. I have been to see Opera North's concert staging of Salomé, which I found curiously unengaging for
all the technical merits of the performances. Last year I saw the original play
and didn’t enjoy that much either so I suspect that my issue is with Wilde
rather than Strauss. It’s full of the bad (Herod, Herodias), the deranged
(Narraboth, John the Baptist) and those who are both (our title character),
which all gets rather wearing after a while, even in operatic form.
The narrative arc –
spoilt rich girl insists on getting her own way but then gets her comeuppance as
well – is familiar enough. Offsetting it with the Baptist’s moral monomania and
misogyny ought to provide more drama than it does. Herod seems to be
hedging his bets between appeasing his wife’s anger and not doing anything too
extreme in case John’s revelations from God are real; modern audiences will
probably just be wondering whereabouts on the autistic scale the soi disant prophet sits.
In this production the
dance of the seven veils takes place off stage. Just as it became apparent that
was how they were going to do it a chap across the aisle got up and left. Sadly,
rather than being a dirty old man storming out because he felt short changed by
the lack of nudity, he turned out to only have gone to the toilet and shortly
returned. As Opera North – who have no aversion to their sopranos getting their kit off– shied away from it, let’s have Ken Russell’s
version. For the avoidance of doubt, this is not Strauss’s music and nor is it
suitable for viewing at work:
The name of the dance
isn’t of course mentioned in the bible and originates with Wilde’s 1891 play. I
have recently re-read Umberto Eco’s ‘Name of the Rose’, set in the
fourteenth century. William of Baskerville refers while in conversation
with Adso of Melk to ‘the dance of the seven veils’ performed by Salomé. Given
the author’s vast erudition and sense of irony one must assume that this is a deliberate
in-joke rather than a mistake.
“Books are not made
to be believed, but to be subjected to inquiry. When we consider a book, we
mustn't ask ourselves what it says but what it means..." - Umberto Eco
"I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long" - Byron
My intention to revisit the Great War didn't last, and I have been playing about with the Roman version of Pony Wars. I first outlined what I was intending to do in this post from over a year ago, so I've got round to it pretty promptly for me. Unsurprisingly however it's not as straightforward as it seemed at the time. I like the arrival of Celts being caused by Roman movement (a direct steal from The Men Who Would Be Kings) and have been working on the assumption that one could then just get rid of the cards completely. However, I have been unable to come up with a satisfactory alternative mechanism for either the activities of the various Roman civilians on the table or for attacks on them to be triggered. Any suggestions would be welcomed.
The post from last January referenced above would appear to contain something that isn't strictly true - gasps of incredulity from the readership - and which I would like to correct. The person to first suggest the idea of programmable computers wasn't Babbage at all, but rather it was Ada Lovelace. I studied the history of mathematics as part of my first degree and should have been more precise. I am very sorry indeed for having misled you. After all, as her father also wrote, you "should envy no one the certainty of his self-approved wisdom". Perhaps Daniel Mersey's AI opponent in the rules should be known as Countess Lovelace instead of Mr Babbage - it still sounds suitably Victorian.
"A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches"
This bunch are called 'Young Amphibians' which, while it is better than 'The Standard Lamps', still leaves a lot to be desired as the name of a band if you ask me (*). As it happens the younger Miss Epictetus - newly returned from the Australian outback (**) - is currently walking out with the chap singing and I am therefore pretty much the last person on Earth whose advice will be sought. The song is catchy enough though.
* Before anyone bothers to remind me, I fully acknowledge having been in a band called 'Or Is It?' and if you follow the link above you will see that I have previously suggested that it is precisely that fact which makes me such an expert on crap band names.
** Where she learned useful lessons in how to cope without sanitation which have subsequently proved invaluable when passed on to her aged parent.
"It's not a very fragrant world, but it is the world you live in" - Raymond Chandler
I am pleased to say that the most appropriate time for that quote has been and gone, as I have somewhat dillied and dallied when I should have been writing blog posts. I once again have a functioning shower, the world - at least that part near me - has regained its sweetness, and no longer can the recent presence of Epictetus be detected by his unwelcome sillage.
The living room ceiling is also back in place, the table in the annexe has been cleared of extraneous items and there is even the possibility of a game being set up sometime soon. I have just been to see a production of Journey's End so the Blue Guitar rules might be due for a revisit. Who can say?
Recent disruption of domestic infrastructure and routine has been at a level which rather reminds me of a few years ago when I didn't have anywhere to live at all, so nothing much constructive has been achieved. In fact the only vaguely hobby related thing that I can find to write about is that having had my shower entirely removed in an effort to track down the leak I am in danger of smelling like one of those wargames show attendees that we all know and don't love.
I did manage to get to the cinema - sitting well away from other patrons - to see the re-released 'Concert for George', which event I assume is related to the fact that he would have been seventy five this year. I'd never seen it before, thoroughly enjoyed it, and was rather taken aback to see Eric Clapton come across as warm and human for once. It was also poignant to see those themselves no longer with us such as Tom Petty, Billy Preston and Ravi Shankar, although I could probably have coped with less Monty Python.
Here's Uncle Ringo, as George's son endearingly described him:
I doubt that anyone is interested, but nevertheless I should like to publicly record my opposition to UK involvement in military attacks Syria. I stand with those who point out that killing more Syrians is a perverse way of protesting about the deaths of their compatriots. All logic says that the only way to get rid of Assad is for the Russians to do it, and one would hope that not even Trump thinks that best way to persuade Putin is to go to war with him; as I say, one hopes.
I have been to see some prog rock. Heavy, guitar based prog rock rather than synthesisers, mellotrons and silvery capes, but prog rock nonetheless: long, strangely structured songs whose pompous lyrics were intoned not particularly melodically against a background of unnecessarily complex time signatures. I loved it; it was just like the old days.
The specific culprit was Martin Barre, long time guitarist in Jethro Tull, which band's catalogue was drawn on extensively. In addition they played a number of songs from Barre's solo recordings; plus a Beatles double in, perhaps surprisingly, 'Eleanor Rigby' and Abbey Road's indisputably prog track 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)'; and also the least bluesy cover of Robert Johnson's Crossroads that I think I've ever heard. They were, as my companion for the evening observed, a remarkably tight band and did what they did extremely well, which probably wasn't unrelated to the fact that they seemed to be having a blast.
Highlight of the evening was the final encore, Aqualung. Here's the Tull doing it complete with Barre's famous guitar solo:
James has put a review of the finale of the latest game here. As it says I nearly won - at the beginning of the evening we had a run of very short turns ended by double double dominoes being drawn; a repeat of the same at the end would have indeed seen the Russians triumphant - but I have to say that, while it made for a fun last half hour or so, it would have felt like a slightly cheesy victory. What it did do was once again highlight the things I like about Piquet. We tend to write up the outliers in terms of initiative swings and card runs; in truth most of the time the rules give a game much like other sets. But there always exists the possibility that things will work out just right for something out of the ordinary to occur, and that was the case here.
An attack which in all honesty was undertaken just for something to do in a losing situation (I was rapidly running out of morale chips and my troops were in danger of quitting the field) developed a life of its own. Experience had taught me that the only use for Cossacks was to screen formed units from being fired on and that was what I intended to do with them. The infantry to be screened hadn't got there yet and so reacting opportunistically to the cards the Cossacks moved up behind a unit of Prussian infantry, had a very lucky shot, issued a morale challenge and thereby demoralised them. I was unaware that the infantry could now be charged until James told me they could. He in turn was unaware, until we double checked the rules, that this required a difficulty check on the dice, but despite them being a poor unit they not only managed it but also won the ensuing melee. At that point the prospect of actually capturing and holding the village and winning the game suddenly became feasible. As I say, this sort of thing doesn't happen very often, but I really enjoy the fact that one can never rule it out.
So, wargaming then. There isn't likely to be any at the Casa Epictetus until the shower is sorted out because the table in the annexe is covered with the stuff moved out of the living room due to the ceiling falling down situation. I can't validly blame that for the lack of any painting at all in the first quarter so I have tried to remojotivate myself (1) in a way that has worked before: namely making some markers - the letters and numbers that you see in photos of the games - as a sort of way back in. All that seems to be happening this time is that I am very slowly making markers that I don't particularly need.
So let's talk boardgaming instead. This is what I played in March:
Cockroach Poker: An amusing bluffing game. The best strategy is to keep a low profile and let the others get on with it.
Deep Sea Adventure: A push your luck game which I'd like to try again. When playing with lots of players no one is going terribly deep on their adventure, or if they do then they ain't coming back.
The Grizzled: I do like this. As always, our group of poilus failed to survive until the armistice.
Istanbul: I also like this one a lot; might have to buy it.
Kingdomino: A good - and quick - game for which I lack the requisite pattern recognition skills.
Oceanos: Another subsea exploration game, although one's divers are less likely to get the bends in this one. It's OK. I was made rather cocky by a good set of cards in the first round; it didn't last.
Perudo: Or Peruvian Liar's Dice; in other words the classic bluffing game.
Plague Inc.: In which one plays a bacterium (or virus) and attempts to wipe out humanity. Great fun; loved it.
Power Grid China: A rather tough map. I got a bit carried away and overbid for a power plant too early during the last round. I might have won otherwise.
San Juan: I'm not that bothered about this; happy enough to play it, but I wouldn't suggest it.
Stockpile: In contrast to how I played Power Grid, no one is ever aggressive enough in the auction phase of this to make it work as it obviously should.
Wasabi!: Absolutely no idea why that has an exclamation mark in the name. It's OK, but I suspect it's another game that would be better if people played it a lot and better understood the tactics.
I'm going to finish the whole jumpsuit thing before it gets out of hand. This is surely the definitive way to wear one on stage:
