Maggots In My Scrotum

 And so to the theatre. I have been to see 'The Book of Mormon', and laughed continuously from beginning to end. It's hilarious.

Is it also offensive? Oh yes, at least if you are the sort of person who is offended by songs about AIDS, paedophilia and female circumcision, all done with lots of swearing. But even if you're not then some of this stuff is so outrageous that no description by me will do it justice; it really needs to be seen to be believed. One review I saw said it was brilliantly conceived and superbly executed, and I would go along with that: 5 stars for sure. 

The other question you will be asking: is it rude about the Mormons? Not particularly I would say. Individually they are portrayed as nice, well-meaning people and the tenets of their faith are laid out - admittedly in song and dance - for the audience to make up their own mind about. I shan't be giving it all a great deal of thought - Occam's Razor suggests there was an obvious reason why Joseph Smith refused to ever show anyone else the golden plates - despite the leaflet pressed into my hand by the Mormon missionaries waiting outside the theatre afterwards. But they were really nice and smiley, not like the angry evangelicals who picketed 'Jerry Springer: The Opera' when I saw that many years ago.

One final point, I only learned from research after seeing the show that there really was an African warlord called General Butt Naked.

kg m/s

Until yesterday the only thing that I knew about Jean Buridan was that he had a donkey; possibly a dead donkey that had starved to death through indecision, but a donkey nevertheless. Having researched him for the purposes of my last blog posting I now know somewhat more:

• If you're not careful Google confuses him with the actor chappy who won an Oscar for 'The Artist'. As good as that film was, please don't make the same mistake.
• He was, apparently, assless. Who knew?
• He had something against William of Occam. Hiss.
• He was a crucial figure in the development of scientific thought in Europe, paving the way for Copernicus, Newton et al. In fact he developed a theory of the quantity of motion, which he referred to as impetus.

On m'a promis un âne

It is perhaps timely therefore to report that my own investigations into Basic Impetus have come to a dead halt. They have, as it were, run out of momentum. I didn't get to play through a full test game (and nor sadly have I caught much of what has clearly been an excellent ODI series), but what I did find time to do convinced me that these were not the rules for me. My own interest in wargaming stems from the game part; fair enough I like a bit of visual aesthetic pleasure and also some historical references thrown in, but basically it's a game. And as a game Basic Impetus just doesn't float my boat. The combat resolution seems fine, if a bit dice heavy, but the command and control rules don't match my own tastes, which are for decision making within a framework of constraints. These decisions are not in any way meant to mimic the decisions made by real life commanders, they're just the sort of choices that occur in tabletop games: allocation of limited resources, stick or twist, guess what the opponent can/will do - you know the sort of thing. And because of that, and nothing else, I abandoned plans for a game of Basic Impetus when James and Peter came round last night. Instead I rejigged it into a game of the current new, shiny ruleset 'To the Strongest'. I may, or may not, find time to write that game up in due course, but a good time was had by all in any event.

Hee Haw

I am a bit behind with writing up the boardgames that I have played, and as the latest list of new ones involves rugs and the wild west I shall do so soon. However, I am diverted by the rather tedious game of 'Roll for the Galaxy' that we had on Monday. This is no reflection on the game - which is perfectly good - but rather because one of the players was a bit slow in taking his turn. Afterwards one of the other players, classifying the problem as Analysis Paralysis, asked about research into the issue, whether there were different types, and, most importantly, what could be done to sort it out.

I first came across the term some twenty five years ago whilst doing my MBA. In that context it means specifically the tendency to postpone a decision in order to collect more data, carry out more analysis, discuss things with more colleagues and so on. In boardgaming parlance it can't mean that; and I suspect that it doesn't actually mean any more than that somebody else is taking longer than you would prefer to play their turn without there being any obvious external distraction such as eating, arguing with their spouse or, increasingly, staring at one's phone.

Now the concept of not being able to make a decision isn't new. I was immediately reminded, as no doubt you were yourself, of Buridan's ass, and Buridan lived in the early fourteenth century. Indeed having looked him up to verify the details, the reputable source that I consulted (OK, Wikipedia) says that the paradox never actually appeared in Buridan's writings and in any event had been known to the ancient Greeks.

But in any event, it seems to me that the problem being manifested in l'Arbre d'If the other night wasn't really indecision. If we are to seek the guidance of a dead philosopher - and why wouldn't we? - I think we should turn to Immanuel Kant and his concept of enlightenment as being the emergence from self-imposed nonage. The individual involved had never played the game before, for which we would all obviously cut him some slack. The problem was his reluctance to take responsibility for his own moves outwith the guidance of others as the game developed; precisely, I'm sure that you will agree, the situation described by Kant. So, returning to the most important question raised above - what can be done to sort it out? - we must urge our opponents to heed the advice that Kant gave in 1784 (quoting Horace) Sapere Aude: Dare to Know.

Two further points. Firstly despite having played and enjoyed the game previously, I couldn't for the life of me remember the rules. In my case however the problem is not nonage, but dotage. Secondly, my research into Buridan tells me that what he did write included an attack on the work of William of Occam. Now there I have to draw a line. Occam's Razor remains as it always has been, the single most useful tool of analysis whether playing a boardgame, in business or doing anything else.

Old School Wargaming - a clarification

Firstly, an apology to my pining fans for the lack of posts. I have been in London for a few days and they do not yet have the internet there. But now I am back in civilisation normal service can resume.

Readers may remember that in my last posting I reflected on old school wargaming using a variety of philosophical tools. I should have remembered that when push comes to shove there is only one philosopher that we should look to at times like this, and that is my old mucker William of Occam. 'Keep it simple' was his motto and it should be yours too; not mine obviously for without intellectual pretentiousness I have no raison d'etre.

Shortly after penning my last pontification (I am experimenting to see if alliteration could possibly act as a substitute for philosophical pseudery as the backbone of the blog) the new edition of Miniature Wargames arrived. Don't worry, this is not another rant about my subscription, rather it acted as a reminder that I hadn't actually read the previous one. And so I did. And what do I find, but an article by Harry Pearson on wargaming in an olde worlde stylee with 30mm flats in which he uses leather bound books as hills, steel navigational dividers for measurement, bone dice thrown from a Victorian horn shaker and original Edwardian playing cards. And to think that this man used to write for the Guardian. Anyway, suddenly the scales fell from my eyes and all became clear. The reason people indulge in old school wargaming is purely and simply as an affectation. They are cultivating an eccentricity in the manner of countless Englishmen before them. 

Harry Pearson

 

Now, I am in no way judgemental. Live and let live, that's what I say. But, Oi, Pearson! No!