REFLECTIONS: ASL Starter Kit #2 – by Ken Dunn (MMP)

I’ve previously offered my Reflections – not a Review – of ASL Starter Kit #1, which is the first entry in the Starter Kit sub-series of Advanced Squad Leader. That was a Reflection because I don’t think as vast a system as even the Starter Kit sub-series can be sufficiently analysed after a couple of short introductory games. This piece will be a set of Reflections in the same way. I’d recommend reading my piece on the first game before reading this.

 
Starter Kit #1 (SK1 henceforth) introduces infantry-only actions, with leaders, infantry squads, and their anti-personnel support weapons (machineguns, flamethrowers, and demolition charges). SK2 introduces ordnance, both heavy and light – particularly big guns (artillery, anti-tank guns, big mortars, etc) on larger counters than the infantry, but also including additional light support weapons (small mortars, and bazookas and panzerschrecks).
 
Contents wise, SK2 includes, nominally, counters for five different World War 2 armies: American, British, German, Italian, and “Allied Minor”, representing Poland, Belgium, and the like. The Italian and Allied Minor orders of battle are fairly vestigial, sufficient for the scenarios in which they feature, and include only infantry and machineguns. The other three include bigger guns and more varied equipment. There are 8 scenarios to play through. The rulebook is 20 pages long (compared to SK1’s 12 pages).
 
It’s worth airing one grievance straight away, because it is easily resolved: the rulebook is a slight improvement on SK1, with extra and clearer definitions, but it is still not always clear to me (after several playing) where I will find certain pieces of information, and sometimes that information is unclear – to me, at least, and I am the punter here, so I’ll say my view counts. What is the Starter Kit effect of small arms fire on Guns and attendant Crew, for instance? But the solution is at hand: the SK3 and SK4 rulebooks are clearer again, and there is an online “living rules” version. There is also a great community who answer questions quickly on several sites – though I do not accept this as an excuse for confusing rules writing.
                                                                                                     
Turning materially, then, to the game: how do the new elements add to (or detract) from the system? And how has my experience developed over the first two Starter Kits?
 
All (I think!) of the weaponry SK2 adds utilises the “To Hit” procedure, rather than a straight Infantry Fire Table diceroll. In fact, some Guns can fire “straight” on the IFT, functioning basically as a giant machinegun when doing so. But usually the Gun makes two rolls – one to check whether it hits the target, and then an IFT roll to calculate damage (in SK3, AFV hits are calculated via a different second dieroll). The most helpful Starter Kit provision for Guns is that all of the “To Hit” requirements for each gun are summed up on a playaid – players don’t calculate them manually as in ASL, but take the number on the playaid and modify it by whatever relevant modifiers apply.
 
I found this fairly simple – in fact, I learned the To Hit procedure quite quickly. I forget elements of it much less than I forget some of the stuff in SK1! In the selection of scenarios in SK2, there isn’t really a serious possibility of getting confused on the one thing I found harder to memorise – Target Type (most Guns use Infantry Target Type most of the time, Mortars use Area Target Type the whole time and other Guns will use it sometimes). “Light Anti-Tank Weapons” (bazookas and panzershrecks) have their own To Hit tables printed on their counters, and are perfectly simple to use (with a shorter procedure than Demolition Charges from SK1).
 
One area of material confusion, even checking the SK3 updated rulebook, is small arms fire vs Guns themselves – “Guns as Targets” in the SK2 rulebook is unclear to me, at least. The full ASL rules do include the possibility of Small Arms randomly destroying a Gun via a KIA result on the IFT – so I’m using that for the Gun itself. (Any help or corrections welcomed!)
 
The scenarios are a nice mix – I enjoyed playing with British, Italians, and Greeks (Allied Minor) more than I enjoyed the protagonists in SK1. One difficult design task for this box was to make scenarios with onboard Guns which were historical and interesting – after all, there are AA guns with no aircraft, AT guns with no tanks. Aside from 2 Infantry-only scenarios, the solutions the other 6 scenarios take are various: sights-down American Artillery facing Germans in the Ardennes, emplaced anti-aircraft batteries being attacked by infantry in Greece and Holland, and so forth. It’s a satisfying mix. One of the highest-rated and best-balanced Starter Kit scenarios is in this pack – ‘88s at Zon’ – though I had a slightly odd experience of it, at least in part from slightly misreading the Victory Conditions. The one caveat I’ll add to my general praise for the scenarios – slight balance issues and so forth notwithstanding – is that both the Italians and the Greeks (who are the only Allied Minor nation used here) only have Infantry and Support Weapons, and so are restricted to the Infantry-only scenarios and as allies to the British in a Gun scenario. This seems a bit of a shame – and in fact to get Italian Guns and Crew, and more interesting Support Weapons for the Allied Minor OOB, you need both Starter Kit #3 and the 2^nd edition of Starter Kit Expansion Pack #1. (The only Allied Minor AFVs are a variety of very light machines in Starter Kit Expansion Pack #2, though the Italians gets a small but acceptable selection in SK3. They also get captured French tanks in SKEP1(2^nd), losing the one Italian assault gun that had been in SKEP1(1^st).)
 
The final thing to reflect upon – and really the most important – is my own experience of learning more ASLSK, adding new types of situations to my record, and exploring further into the game system.
 
I suppose the headline is that playing SK2 led me to enter into full ASL. The whole story is more nuanced. What compelled me was not just enjoying the game, but seeing the deeper possibilities of the system, if expanded to its full extent. How about Finnish and Soviet skiers fighting it out? How about a wide range of HASL Campaign Games? How about multi-gun and multi-turret AFVs? I think there are doubtful “alleys” in the great city of rules that is full ASL, but on the whole the leap has been worth it. That “promise”, shown by the Starter Kit series, drew me in – I wanted the whole lot.
 
This box – essentially coincidentally, but it’s still worth noting – is also where I began to actually use ASL tactics, or try to. Infantry laying smoke to provide some inbuilt TEM, interlocking interdiction routes, etc – stuff I hadn’t even touched, really, in my 3 games of SK1. Indeed, beginning to come to grips with what is really involved in playing ASLSK, beyond the raw rules, is part of what led me to see the depth and breadth of the full ASL system.
 
There is another side to this, though. I’m not quite sure how to articulate it without it either sounding like an odd sort of praise, or an exaggerated criticism. Put it this way: there were moments where I felt oddly unsatisfied, or unsatiated. This wasn’t because the game system was shallow – indeed, even Starter Kit has vast depths I’ve barely explored – nor because the rules were annoying (even if some are), nor even because the designs in the box weren’t very good examples. They are, on the whole.
 
But I touched on the issue when mentioning the lack of Italian and Allied Minor tech – there was an odd sense playing this of “half a game”, even combined with SK1. Of course, part of this is lacking AFVs – but it was more the decisions made about what to include, what to design for, and so forth. There’s a quite fun Exit VP scenario with Italians trapped between Greek forces – but this is definitely denied star-billing, being an Infantry-only scenario with no tech and no chrome. The typical commercial realities of wargaming – that American actions and the East Front sell – are writ large on the contents of this box. Part of my move to full ASL has been to access wider vistas, not just deeper.
 
All told, SK2 is – probably – a better box than SK1. It’s certainly a good box and well worth the price. It has fewer Infantry-only scenarios than SK1 (2, compared to 6) and one of those is fun but has notable balance issues, but beyond that, the scenarios offer more variety, the maps are better, the OBs are more interesting, etc. But there is, at points, something that seems like a lack of ambition – hopefully something that is moved beyond in SK3, which I’ll be playing next, alongside learning scenarios for full ASL.

Mini-ASL: My 3-Year-Old Wants To Play

My eldest son, like all 3-year-olds, is unreasonably impressed by everything his father does. Thus, when he sees me playing wargames or D&D, he wants to play too. He loves tanks, and we learn about World War 2 battles together (Mark Felton Productions on Youtube is great for this). I want to play with him, too, of course – but I want to play. I want him to learn to play ordered games with rules. It’s a great educational opportunity, too – for counting, basic probability, and various other skills. So I make rules for the games we play.

Now, in practice we don’t play long and detailed games of D&D or ASL or whatever. If we get a few “turns” of something done in reasonable order, and he’s enjoyed himself but is beginning to flag, I’m happy to call it a day and play more freeform with him. But I love that we share this hobby, even in a limited way, and the rules help that.

Here are my “Mini-ASL” rules – Advanced Squad Leader (ASL) being the main wargame we get out and push counters around:

(1)   As the scenario designer, pick some counters, maps, and setup areas (though be flexible – if your kid wants to line up all his troops on a road halfway to your setup area, it doesn’t matter). You can also set a turn limit, geographic objective, etc. Setup troops.

(2)   Trucks can carry one squad each. Guns and Support Weapons must be manned by Crews or Squads/Half-Squads – max one Gun/SW per Squad/HS. A Leader can man a Support Weapon. I haven’t heretofore set a strict stacking, but would suggest ‘1’ Leader and 3 x Squads maximum.

(3)   Each player takes turns (I usually let him go first). The phasing player rallies, moves, and fire with all his counters.

(4)   Each Routed unit can try to rally. They rally on a ‘1’, ‘2’, or ‘3’. A Leader improves this – a ‘4’ will also Rally with a Leader in charge. A Routed unit cannot move or fire.

(5)   All counters except Trucks/Recon vehicles can move 4 hexes in any terrain, carrying their Gun or SW or Passengers with them if appropriate. Trucks and Recon vehicles can move 8 hexes. Moving into a hex with an enemy ends the unit’s movement. You might make special terrain rules – tanks can’t go in Marsh, for instance. When we did a River crossing, loading on to boats took up half a move.

(6)   Each Squad/Half-Squad/Vehicle can Fire once (and can fire one more time with any support weapon). Crews do not fire independently of their Gun. Add exceptions as needed: e.g., when we used Char B1s, I let them fire twice – once for the turret gun, once for the bow gun.

(7)   A unit must be able to see (have Line of Sight) to a target. There is no limit on range. Line of Sight can be checked before firing. I basically use “real” ASL LOS rules in the very loosest and most basic sense – Woods and Buildings block LOS if the string passes through, etc. So do Hills. Hindrance does not apply. Close Combat (see (10) below) cannot be fired into.

(8)   Roll a d6 per shot. ‘1s’ and ‘2s’ have effects; ‘1’ reduces or kills the target (Squad to Half-Squad, Japanese Step Reduction), ‘2’ routs the target (Japanese Step Reduction). Only Ordnance/ATRs/SCWs can target Tanks. Rolling a ‘6’ with a Gun breaks it – a turn must be spent fixing it, without the Crew doing anything else.

(9)   The only Terrain Effect I’ve created so far (other than LOS-blocking) was a Fort functionally acting as a +1 modifier on the die. I described this as only a ‘1’ hitting, and routing the Squad, not reducing it.

(10)                       If a Squad enters the hex of an enemy, Close Combat ensues as an attack in lieu of Firing. Each Squad rolls a d6 simultaneously. A ‘1’ or ‘2’ reduces/etc the enemy Squad. If there are multiple Squads on a side, each gets an attack.

(11)                       Guns or SWs that lose their Crew/Squad can be picked up by another Squad/Crew which moves in to the same hex.

SEQUENCE OF PLAY

(1)   Player A Turn

(a)    Rally Attempts

(b)   Move, Fire, Close Combat, Fix Guns

(2)   Player B Turn

(a)    Rally Attempts

(b)   Move, Fire, Close Combat, Fix Guns

REVIEW: Battles of the Age of Reason IX: Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742 - by Matthew Hinkle (Clash of Arms Games)

Consider the rulebooks of some games I have learned to play: the current Civil War Brigade Series rulebook is 32 pages long, and each game has a game-exclusive rulebook, too; Here I Stand is 48 pages long, excluding the separate playbook/scenario book; and Advanced Squad Leader...well, to play an Infantry Only scenario, and setting aside Nationality and Terrain rules, you still need to learn about 40 pages if you're self-teaching. All small type, tightly set. And moreover, I’ve learned dozens of games with rulebooks in that region or longer.
 
What’s wrong with me? And what’s wrong with wargamers in general? We learn and play games with much longer rulebooks – Lace Wars or A World at War come to mind. I’m tempted to suggest we do so because, the saying goes, “they’re there”. Surely the desire to accomplish a vast task is part of the motivation of the average wargamer playing a monster or a heavy game. Yet I think there is more.
 
This was the key question that entered my mind when I sought to reflect on Battles of the Age of Reason IX: Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742, a game covering Frederick the Great’s first battlefield commands. Why do I play games like this? It has 48 pages of series rules, 28 pages of module-specific rules, a 12-page booklet of tables and roster sheets, and another two double-sided charts – for a total of 92 sides of paper. Not all of this has to be learned to play a scenario – as this contains 7 scenarios over 2 different battles, you only need to learn battle-specific and scenario-specific rules for whatever you are playing. You can ignore the few pages of historical notes. Beyond that, though, most of the rules are non-negotiable.
 
BAR, like its forebear La Bataille, is a dense, procedural simulation of the horse and musket era. Where La Batt simulates the Napoleonic era, BAR simulates (so far) the period 1741-1783, with games covering the War of the Austrian Succession, the Seven Years’ War, and the American Revolution. Why did I buy Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742, then? Well, I like the period; I have heard many good things about the system; and the specific game was billed as a good starting place, with two single-map battles (most of the other games set in Europe are multi-mappers).
 
And, if I’m honest, I was curious about the weight, the density. “It was there.” It was a mountain I wanted to climb. But why? People climb mountains, but don’t leap into lava streams just because they are there. Something valuable inheres in the target – and the hardship of the journey makes the attainment of the target all the greater. What is this in complex wargames?
 
I should begin my answer by saying that it does not include the actively confused layout of the sheets and charts of this game (key charts are hidden in the game-specific chart booklet, next to rosters; but the other key charts are loose and cardstock; I’ve still not yet learned to instinctively look in the right place when wanting to check the Terrain Effects Chart, or the Fire Multiplier Chart!), or even the surprisingly disjointed rulebook, where information is repeated across sections in a way that sometimes tricks me – is the whole summary of Wing and Command Leader Initiative in the Sequence of Play section? No, wait, there’s a much fuller description spread across the Initiative Determination section and the Command and Control section, though none of this is particularly well cross-referenced.
 
I wouldn’t want to extend this criticism too wide, but it is certainly jarring to read an obviously refined rulebook – a system with nine iterations, building on the whole tradition of La Bataille beforehand – that still has concrete usability issues. I suppose one might enjoy conquering usability issues – I enjoy solving a complex, frustrating problem with a model train – but I don’t think that is why wargamers flock to heavy games. We’re nerds, but most of us aren’t masochists (direct letters disagreeing to the editor).
 
No, I think the reason I pick games like this up regularly is that the density of procedure, the array of interlocking systems, the neurotic attention to historic detail, all serve two purposes of core importance to most dedicated wargamers: the seeking of mastery, and the desire for historical transportation.
 
What do I mean? In a classic “beginner’s” wargame – Napoleon at Waterloo is the obvious touchstone – units move under fairly simple rules, using a simple set of movement modifiers on a table. They attack in a fairly simple way, too. Typically, either a “to hit” roll is made (more usual in miniatures) or a simple odds ratio is calculated between the attacking units and the defending units. A roll is made on a table displaying the various odds, and that gives a result – in the simplest cases usually out of a range of “No Effect”, “Retreat”, and “Damaged/Killed”. Everything about these results can usually be explained in a sentence or two (though, then again, we’ve all read an otherwise simple rulebook with a multi-page Retreat system!).
 
Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742 is a close follower of the second model – but significantly more complicated. How do we work out the odds ratio, that staple of the hex-and-counter wargame? Well, to take the example of fire combat: (1) determine how many Strength Points can fire out of each hex firing upon a target, and then, applying modifiers where necessary, multiply each firing unit’s SP by the range modifier of its troop type, with e.g. a 12lb Artillery unit multiplying its SPs by 4 at a range of 4 hexes – the cumulate result is the Fire Strength; (2) divide that Fire Strength by the Fire Defense Value of the targeted hex – with e.g. a Clear Hex having a FDV of 10 whilst a Village has an FDV of 20; (3) roll d100 and apply any final modifiers, and then cross-reference the result on the Fire Combat Table. There are actually only a relatively few types of results of a “hit”, and none particularly complex, but if you roll 00-09, you have rolled a Fire Combat Special Result, for the effects of which you must consult the relevant Fire Special Results table (there are three separate tables, for three types of Fire).
 
You get the idea. And of course, there’s plenty more of this: multiple complicated formations, the relative inability of infantry to move obliquely without changing facing, and even a whole Special Cavalry Movement sub-system. Even Terrain Effects on Movement often include three items of information – Movement Cost, Stacking Limit by Troop Type and Formation, and Disorder Check if applicable. The system isn’t revolutionary – it doesn’t even go so far as to use a “Differential Odds” combat system, let alone something as quirky as that of the Civil War Brigade Series, mentioned above – but it is dense and layered.
 
At first, this can be exasperating. How many cases apply to a Fire check? Have I missed something? (Yes.) Oh, wait, that line of cavalry couldn’t have moved that far because they had to change facing – and anyway, I miscalculated the command ranges (as there are so many different effects on measurement) so I should have rolled Command Initiative.
 
Eventually, for the hardened wargamer, something clicks – oh. It was when I realized I had a second Opportunity Fire shot on a Skirmishing Hussar unit which was leaving a hex, and actually fairly quickly processed the maths involved. Suddenly I felt like I saw beneath the surface of the systems, to some kind of mathematical realm beyond – which sounds like an exaggeration, but is not. When a system clicks, I experience a sense of sublimity – and that means that the more complex and deep a system is, the more sublime.
 
This connects to the other great benefit I find in complex systems – that sense of being transported across history. Some of us wargamers are noisy in saying that we don’t believe we are playing simulations; one particularly strange (and unnecessary) defence of ASL is that it depicts Movie World War Two, not the real deal. Yet the very nature of typical wargame rules – the basic “language” we use – is simulatory. Representation is the point, not elegance or fine engineering. If you wanted elegance in your rules, virtually no traditional wargame’s combat system would make the grade. But the combat systems – whether CRTs or To Hits or whatever else – are meant to make us think of the clash of arms. Thus when Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742 forces me to muck about – in a scenario with Snow, indeed, so movement is already really slow! – with facing changes so I can actually align my cavalry for their charge, because I can’t just move them in a straight line of hexes but have to alternate...that’s the sweet spot for the nerd.
 
The snow is heavy on the ground. The Prussian infantry have to slog through it to get to the Austrian centre, where they can probably caramelize the shaky Habsburg foot. There are strong wings of enemy cavalry on either flank. To quick march they have to suck up Fatigue – or you can accept the tradeoff of losing time so they can arrive in better shape. The Austrian Hussars are providing an extra obstacle, and are so much harder to hit because of their Skirmish formation. And the winter sun is falling fast.
 
Dense mechanics – big rulebooks – fields of chrome, endless exceptions – these seem like a nightmare, but our Cardboard Time Machines need lots of knobs and dials if we are to get in close. This is because the transportation through time most of us are seeking is not the exact metrics of shots fired vs wounds caused, but the story which explains the battle and the personages involved. Games, in this sense, are claims about reality – they tell the story. And the heavy games tell those stories in a way no elegant, insightful design can – not through neat tricks but through the very weight of the rules. When you must memorize dozens and dozens of rules and sub-systems, the claim about the battle or war is impressed upon you in a very distinctive way.
 
Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742 is a very fine example of this species of game. Its rules rarely seem arbitrary or stupid and never really break the suspension of disbelief. This is partly through using Strength Points and Roster Sheets rather than Steps – damage is steady and cumulative, so Rubber-Banding or Bloodbath CRTs can’t ruin the illusion. The battle-specific rules are not overly onerous. The range of scenarios is fairly varied – there are two fairly different battles to begin with, and they each have different situations, including cavalry battles and full deployment scenarios (which remind me of the Main Scenarios in the Prussia’s Glory series). All told, I think this was a very good introduction to BAR (I have two other games in the series on the shelf already!).
 
What is required, to be sure, is persistence – this is a system that has to click to work its magic. I can teach a complete newbie a Battles of the American Revolution game by Mark Miklos with fairly little difficulty. I might need to handhold, but the basic dynamic is clear, and the basic mathematical problems are fairly open (though, inevitably, Retreats are the nightmare piece of the puzzle). But with Battle of the Age of Reason, both the engineering puzzle and the historical vision only come out once the rules have been rehearsed.
 
For many gamers out there, that is (naturally) a problem – spending hours learning a game and then spending hours beginning to play it, before even getting a hint of the joy involved, seems like more than delayed gratification. It seems like insanity. But to the Initiate of the Wargaming Mysteries, a game like Mollwitz 1741 and Chotusitz 1742 is a path to higher enlightenment.

REVIEW: Konigsberg: The Soviet Attack on East Prussia, 1945 - by Stefan Ekstrom (Revolution Games)

Konigsberg: The Soviet Attack on East Prussia, 1945

          by Stefan Ekstrom, Revolution Games

Wargames, Good Guys, and Bad Guys

I have two modes of engaging with the moral history of a wargame when playing. Competitively, I can play whichever side, and play to win – whilst me and my buddy discuss the history, consider the moral dimensions of the scenario, and so forth.

But playing solo leaves me in a dilemma. In anything involving British armies, anything from about the 19^th century on – it’s not just I’ve made some general judgement about “good guys” and “bad guys”, but I know it’ll sometimes affect my play. In some scenarios I don’t want one side to win. Do I want the French to win Waterloo? Some scenarios, indeed, I wouldn’t consider playing – I’ve never owned or played a Sealion game, and I doubt I will. I’ll just take the win of Britain not being invaded historically, thankyou very much.

As you can imagine, the Nazis are usually the bad guys in World War 2, even when facing the Soviets. My favourite Wehrmacht general officer is Henning von Tresckow, to give you a measure of my views. But Konigsberg: The Soviet Attack on East Prussia, 1945 changes the dilemma.

In historical terms, the German counterattack at Pillau on the 19^th February (just after this game ends) is not only a militarily impressive one, but also in my view an undoubtedly moral achievement. The reopening of the sole route of evacuation for the hundreds of thousands of civilians – otherwise doomed to starvation, rape, and butchery, as happened at the hands of Soviet troops across East Prussia – may have been accomplished by Nazis, but it is undeniably stirring. Could you or I, if we had been Germans dissenters then, desired any other outcome than a German victory?

This game of that campaign also touches on the horror of the campaign in a way that many similar games do not (I know of no Barbarossa game with Einzatsgruppen counters). The objectives for the Soviet player include effectively cutting off Konigsberg, if it cannot be captured; one entry on the random event table represents Soviet massacres, and provides the German player with Volkssturm units.

As a chit-pull game (you draw counters from a cup to determine which group of units moves/fights next), this is ripe for solo play, and the moral dynamics of the campaign make it a particularly pointed example of the tension in solo play. The questions I had in mind before playing it were: (1) was it a good game? and (2) does it effectively engage the moral questions it touches upon?

Under The Hood

There’s not much surprising about Konigsberg. It’s advertised as sharing a system with A Victory Lost and similar games, and it does. Units have the traditional attack-defence-move stats, combat is calculated on an Odds/Ratio basis, and the order in which groups of units move and fight is determined by chit pull. A given formation being activated by chit can usually also move extra independent units, which otherwise have no chit in the cup. Units from the activated formation have to be within the command range of their formation HQ unit to activate themselves. The activation order is strictly on the order of chits here, limited only by each side’s “limit” – i.e. the Germans and the two Soviet Fronts can each have a certain number of activations, after which any additional pulls are null. There are also special chits, which if drawn cause special effects to occur – e.g. “bombardment” attacks, which are basically just a free chance to damage enemy units with no risk to your own guys. One special chit triggers a roll on the Random Events Table, of which a little more later.

That all works perfectly well (as it ought). The statistical design of units seems to me to be historically plausible, combat is fine, the chit pull works well. There are also air units, which each side gets and can use to influence the combat odds – cleverly, one can either fully commit an air unit (for a bigger effect) and lose the use of it for a couple of turns, or partially commit it and get it back sooner. In fact, there’s even a naval unit for the Germans, the Hipper, which sits in the Frische Haff and can add its attack strength to combats within 2 hexes of that lake. These are lovely touches, and work well in the dynamic of the game. Good wargame mechanics can often be identified as those that efficiently model something “in the world” – not simply good mechanics per se, nor mechanics that exhaustively model something, but that crossover of efficiency and modelling. Both air and naval units in this game are efficiently modelled.

One fair critique at a purely mechanical level is the balance of chits in the chit draw. The Soviet player draws plenty more chits each turn than the German player. The German player draws between 3 and 5 chits per turn depending on the turn-specific limit; the Soviet draws between 6 and 10. Formations are of similar sizes, with the German corps tending to be a little larger than the Soviet armies. On most turns, then, the Soviet player will move several more units than German. By the final turn, with the Soviet drawing 10 chits and the German drawing 3, the Soviet player may be moving a good clip over three times as many units, depending on German attrition.

In solo play this isn’t a great issue, of course, and chit pull is geared well to solo play. Moreover, at both a “tempo” level and in terms of historicity, this all makes sense. But this imbalance, exacerbated as it is by the necessarily desperate situation of the German defenders, does make this a game that will suit solo players much better than face-to-face gaming.

On the other hand, the desperate situation mentioned there does make this very compelling for the solo player. The red tide, activating in ever-increasing numbers (but having to make up room over an increasingly large amount of map), swarms against ever-thinner ad hoc lines of German defence. The German player will be desperately seeking to hold an overland route open from Konigsberg to Brandenburg, and will be constantly worried in the last couple of turns that he won’t succeed; the Soviet player, on the other hand, has every resource on his side but time.

With the one caveat about competitive play in place – and easily solved by most wargamers being solitary birds – it’s fair to say that this is a very respectable game. The mechanics work, the chrome is generally efficiently flavourful, and the situation is very tense. As a relatively inexpensive game ($45 from Revolution, £45.95 from Second Chance Games) with a modicum of replayability, this is worth looking into.

The Morality of Dierolls

When we play an Operation Typhoon game and play out the fall of Moscow, or when we see British troops surrender at Singapore in Empire of the Sun, we probably don’t overthink things. Bad things will result from those events, whether historical or counterfactual, but the paper map and cardboard counters give us the distance required to engage with the history as an intellectual and even ludic exercise. I’m quite comfortable with that, on the whole; I don’t think I’m dodging serious reflection on the morality of historical events if I don’t constantly torment myself.

But Konigsberg presses the question further. The Soviet Sudden Death Victory condition gives a hint to the historical situation – if the Soviets hold Konigsberg or Elbing at the end of a turn, they win immediately. That’s par for the course, but the Random Events Table isn’t – it includes “Soviet Atrocity” and “Refugees”. The former provides the Germans with more Volkssturm (representing, presumably, motivated troops), the latter slows down the next activation due to clogged roads.

I appreciate the frankness – both were serious considerations in the campaign. I don’t believe there is any flippancy intended by Stefan Ekstrom, the designer. They are mechanically efficient. But I can’t help but come away feeling a little – strange. I didn’t, when playing, feel emotionally affected by these direct references to tragedy, but nor did I glide past it. Those results brought me up slightly – not quite to the point of reflection, but slight unease.

I don’t mind that, and I don’t consider it as an unfair ruining of my fun. I mean, I don’t want to play The Train Game, but we wargamers can sometimes have the mindset of the squeamish carnivore, can’t we? Serve me the steak, don’t show me the cow. The designer has decided these are historically important matters to simulate; he wouldn’t have sinned if he hadn’t, but he has. So my complaint is not at that level. I’m just not sure it “comes off”.

What I mean is this: It’s fine if wargames don’t simulate the grimmest aspects of their subject. It’s fine if they do. But the simulation has to land well. Black Orchestra is a compelling game which also translates some of the weight of the matter, of the conspiracies to kill Hitler; it’s a sober subject but works well both ludically and emotionally. It does make it an emotionally heavier game to play than Carcassonne, but that’s no complaint! On the other hand, the minimal and slightly reductionistic references to the horrors of the East Prussian campaign we find on the Konigsberg Random Events Table feel slightly tacked on. They neither preserve intellectual distance nor land an emotional punch. They are adequate at a game level but hardly exciting.

There is a lesson here, I suspect; cardboard does well as an intellectual time machine, but emotional resonance requires real skill, and building it into a traditional hex-and-counter frame is often going to struggle. The technology is maladapted to the task.

Conclusion

With all that said, this is a good game. It’s nicely produced, with a clean Joe Youst map and decent counters. There’s plenty of nice chrome, the mechanics are smooth, and the situation is compelling and tight. It’s ideal for solo play (if likely to be less impressive in competitive play). The willingness to address the harder parts of the history is admirable. It’s largely a success; its failures are qualified. It’s worth a look.

REFLECTIONS: ASL Starter Kit #1 - by Ken Dunn (MMP)

This isn't a review, formally speaking, at least not in my usual style – I'm not looking to come to a conclusion on ASL SK #1, yet, I'm not going to give a system overview, and I don't have a thesis statement about what is worth talking about in the game. But I've played SK1 three times – S1 Retaking Vierville, S2 War of the Rats, S3 Simple Equation – with all its core mechanical components and a slight variety of victory conditions, and am moving on to SK2 for now. It seems a fit time to offer some thoughts about SK1. Those thoughts are: frustrated, engaged, disaffected.

What's wrong with it, then? Well, there's a raft of complaints about ASL (and therefore the SK series) that are best second order items: Are the squad stats historically sound (maybe not but that's not the point of tension)? Is the art style outdated and alienating (maybe and no, respectively)? Is even the SK series too full of exceptions and possibilities (not...necessarily)?

There's an aesthetic experience – in the broadest sense of the word aesthetic – involved in ASL which trades on certain design decisions and the art style, and that aesthetic experience is something people buy. I mean they buy it morally as much as physically: the delicate, antiquated, compelling line art on the old-colour counters, the lacklustre firepower and stubborn morale of the British compared to the torrent of American guns backed by indifferent spine, the existence of MMGs. It's a movie and it's a paean to a different era in wargaming. To attempt to ground objective judgements on these issues is to miss the real discussion, I think. The art style is well-rendered and the counter iconography, though imperfect, is perfectly functional; if you don't like it, it's a matter of taste, not beauty. If you want better simulation of weapon kitlists, you want a different game, not a “better” one.

But there is a discussion to have about ASL SK – do the bones support the torso, or not? Is it a good movie and paean? After a little experience with Infantry+SWs (so avowedly not the WHOLE experience), I think this isn't self-evident.

I'll offer two examples of cinematic gameplay that seem to me, finally, to be anti-cinematic, anti-dramatic; I cite them because they are often mentioned in (exciting, enjoyable) AARs.

EXAMPLE ONE: ELR. Field Promotions have a similar effect to this, but a more transparent mechanic, so I'll exclude them. ELR is a pretty central feature of units in ASL SK, because it means every failed MC must be checked against it for the breakdown effect, which itself requires access to hypothetically the whole collection of SMC/MMC for that nationality in this box. As the ELR rating is applied to the modified MC DR, you can't readily eyeball a roll before applying modifiers; if you do, the ELR check is one step later again. Given the relatively high failure rate on MCs (i.e. a 2d6 roll against a usual range of 5-8, modified by IFT results and terrain, often trending to negative modifiers once an MC is actually rolled), this is stuff you have to do a lot.

The upside is this: troops break down in combat, some troops turn out to be more resilient than others, and so forth (and Field Promotion accomplishes the reverse). This is fun. But the mechanic is distancing for me; fiddly, time-consuming, and requiring a larger table footprint (for the various counters potentially needed).

EXAMPLE TWO: Cowering. Simpler than ELR, certainly; if an MMC rolls doubles when firing without Leader Direction, its attack is resolved on the next-left column on the IFT. Great. This represents a unit failing to put its heart into the attack when unsupervised. But this struggles to make sense as a flat effect (thus requiring SSRs to let the stoic British 1^st Liners off!), is mechanically flavourless (that is, its flavour effect is nominal at the strictly mechanical level; arbitrary doubles turn into a column shift; no decisions, no special tables, just a flat and arbitrary effect), and is easy to forget in the moment unless one is a very seasoned ASL SK player.

Example One offers us emotionally distancing fiddle, whilst Example Two is weakly-flavoured chrome (to use a mixed metaphor). I'm not against fiddly games; try running through fire combat in Civil War Brigade Series or unit states in Musket and Pike, both of which I love, and you'll see what I mean! Nor am I against chrome. My point is that these examples seem to me to be examples of ASL SK utilising the wrong tools to accomplish its objective as a game. These examples of “cinematic mechanics” tend, for me, to make the game less cinematic and to be somewhat frustrating mechanics, too.

Now I can only assume that to some degree these concerns of mine will multiply with playing SK2-4 (all of which I own). Why torture myself? There are some secondary reasons: it's gaming history repackaged, I already own the games, and it's a cheapish and interesting way to get a wide variety of WW2 squad tactical (including PTO, looking at you Band of Brothers, including tanks, looking at you Combat Commander). But what's the main reason? Well, there's just very plainly something else going on here. It is undoubtedly the case that there is a game underneath the fiddle.

ASL SK is not simply a dirge-like calculation of factors, placement of confusing counters, and forgetting of obscure rules (though at a low point it can feel like that!). It's actually fascinating. The differing unit capabilities, the array of decisions/options (I still need to learn to use Smoke properly), the range of scenario designs within the SK series – all these speak strongly for the series. And it looks and feels good moving the counters, guessing LOS, applying the best of the chrome. It is an often-compelling experience.

It's not my favourite squad tactical, but its mighty pedigree is justified – there is a reason that ASL is a game which has justified five boxed games in a specialist starter series.

REWIEW: Root - by Cole Wehrle (Leder Games)

Root – by Cole Wehrle, Leder Games

Root is a fantasy-themed card-assisted asymmetric wargame seating 2-4 players (with its first expansion, this shifts to 1-6). It's really quite good, but beyond that there are some specifics which are worth some thought and analysis. Particularly, I'm thinking about (1) asymmetry in design – particularly in wargame design – and (2) the fantasy theme in wargames.

Design Overview

First, it's worth giving the design as a whole an overview. It's not super rules-heavy; BGG gives it a moderate 3.45/5 rules weight, but it's fair to say most of the difficulty experienced is in the asymmetry, not in the rules any one player has to learn to play the game. There are two rulebooks – they use the Fantasy Flight nomenclature to a degree, with one called the “Learning to Play” book, but the second book, the “Law of Root” (aka the rules reference manual) does suggest reading one or the other on the basis of your learning style – the LtP book is programmed instruction in a Euro style, whilst the Law of Root is a case-system wargame manual, with full numbering. The rulebooks are both adequate and I appreciate the dual approach, though the Law lacks contents or index, which is a faux pas for a wargame manual.

The other components are uniformly gorgeous, with decent cardstock counters, linen-finish cards, wonderfully cute screen-printed wooden warrior pieces, and a beautiful double-sided map depicting 12 clearings connected by paths, with each clearing matching one of the suits of cards (Fox, Bunny, Mouse; there's also a Bird suit, which is wild). The aesthetic effect cannot be underestimated – though the design itself is very good, it is made maximally enjoyable via its beauty and tactility.

There are four core factions, each looking to either be the first to score 30 points, or in 3-4 player games alternatively secure a “Dominance Victory” (essentially, fulfil given map control conditions). There are two universal ways to score points – destroying enemy buildings or tokens (but not warriors, the military pieces) and crafting cards from your hand (which can also be special abilities for you to use, or items which you can potentially sell to one specific faction). Each faction also has unique ways to score points. There are also unique ways to score points, which naturally leads us to examine the factions themselves. I'll do so in some detail, partly to win over the hoary grognards amongst my readership by the beauty of the design, and partly to explore the game's asymmetry.

Faction 1: The Marquise de Cat. The Marquise starts in control of all but one of the 13 clearings on the map. She has warriors all over, plus one of each of her three types of building – the sawmill, the recruiting station (or as my buddy has nicknamed it, “the Friendship Barn”), and the workshop. Each of these fulfils a different function; the sawmill produces wood each turn to use in constructing more buildings, the recruiter is where the Marquise places new warriors, whilst the workshop contributes to her ability to craft. She scores points by building more buildings, though each type of building costs increasingly more wood the more she builds (i.e. 1 wood allows you to build the second instance of any type of building and scores 1 or 2 VP depending on type, but the third instance requires 2 wood and scores 2 or 3 VP). Buildings can only go on empty spaces in clearings – of which there will always be a limited number. The Marquise has three actions per turn (with the ability to gain more via discarding wild cards from her hand); this is a low cap but her actions are pretty efficient, with a Move action moving two groups, for instance. The Marquise needs to control territory to get her economic engine going and efficient, including maintaining lines of supply for her wood to be used to build. I've seen the Marquise summed up as a Euro economy faction – but there's far more to it than that, with a fine balance needed of economy, military buildup/action, and secure area control.

Faction 2: The Eyrie Dynasties. These guys used to rule the forest, but are now restricted to one clearing, albeit in strength. The Eyrie is usually the most explicitly “militaristic” faction; most of the time its ability to score from crafting cards is limited, its main way of scoring points is checking how many of its Roost buildings are on the board at the end of each turn (so you need to expand to score higher numbers of points), and its internal politics drive it forward to conquer territory and make war. What do I mean by its internal politics? Oh, just that the only way the Eyrie takes actions on the map itself is via a card-driven programming game, where it must fulfil all the steps in its programme or fall into chaos, and its programme is partly defined by which Leader of the Eyrie currently rules. The Eyrie's programme is called the Decree, which has four consecutive steps: Recruit, Move, Battle, Build. These are parallel to the Marquise's actions, though each instance is less efficient. That's fine, because where the Marquise has that semi-capped 3 actions, the Eyrie can have as many as it can fulfil; you will see functional Decrees with 9 or 10 cards in them, for example. However, you HAVE to add 1 or 2 cards to the Decree every turn, and HAVE to take actions in a clearing matching the “suit” of the particular card. Oh, there are no enemy pieces in a Bunny clearing and you have a Bunny Battle card? Sucks to be you, Eyrie – time to go into Turmoil, lose some points, replace your Leader card, empty your Decree, and lose the rest of your turn. Like the Marquise, the Eyrie wants to build buildings, and it wants to control territory, but it feels utterly different – the Eyrie is made up of aggressive birds of prey who are able to strike with a rapidity and ferocity unknown to the calculating Marquise, but they're also prone to squabbling themselves to defeat. A functional Decree is a scary sight, and is about the most powerful thing in the game, but it's a fine line between a relentless machine of war and an ugly car crash.

Faction 3: The Woodland Alliance. For those familiar with the COIN series, this is the IN faction, with the Marquise and Eyrie acting as CO factions. The Woodland Alliance are the common animals/people of the forest, sick to their eyeteeth of the cats and birds bossing them around. They don't start on the board, or with any ability to undertake military operations; instead, their first few turns will be spent spending cards to spread Sympathy across the Forest, before sparking a Revolt and setting up a Base in a given clearing. They score points via Sympathy tokens, and they can craft cards based on the “suits” of the clearings they have Sympathy in – so Sympathy is a very powerful thing; however, if the CO factions march their troops into a Sympathetic clearing, or destroy a Sympathy token, they have to surrender cards to the Alliance, representing more supporters joining the Alliance in anger at the heavy-handed enforcement. Now, that's the soft war, the hearts-and-minds stuff. The Alliance also have a limited ability to wage war – much more limited than the Marquise or Eyrie, but nonetheless significant. They're more limited because they have fewer warrior pieces than the CO factions (10 Alliance, 15 Eyrie, 25 Marquise), and what's more, to take any military actions they have to set aside some of those warriors as Officers – kept off the map, allowing one military action (Move, Recruit, Battle, and the special Organise action which removes a warrior to place a Sympathy token) per Officer. This means that in a normal situation, they might have only 7 warriors available to put on the map, and 3 actions to do stuff with them. They are also vulnerable to having their operations seriously disrupted if they see their Bases destroyed – they lose cards and Officers in such an event. On the other hand, the game for the Alliance isn't total map control, as they can only build three Bases anyway. The game is spreading Sympathy and crafting, using the Bases as hubs of power to secure Sympathetic pockets, enable Organise actions, and disrupt opponents. By the end of the game the Alliance superficially resemble the Marquise and Eyrie; they have buildings, they have warriors, they have crafted stuff. However, they play completely differently, relying much less on main force and much more on strategic use of soft power.

Faction 4: The Vagabond. To the wargamer, the Vagabond is the most distinct and strange faction. Basically the Vagabond is some little dude wandering round playing their own RPG. The Vagabond only has one piece on the board, representing themselves; they can't be knocked off the board by battle, and they can't control clearings. They do score points for crafting and destroying buildings and tokens, and in a 4 player game can win via a Dominance card – but in the latter case it actually just allows them to ally with a different player and share their victory. How on earth does the Vagabond win, then? They have three unique ways of scoring points: (1) the Aid action, which involves giving cards to other players (potentially in return for Items that player has crafted) – the higher your Friendship rating with a faction, the more points you score, and if you reach the maximum level you can also treat that faction's pieces as your own, moving and battling with them; (2) killing Hostile warriors scores you 1VP per warrior removed – a faction is Hostile after the first time you attack them; and (3) via Quests, which are cards which require you exhaust certain Items in a particular suit of clearing – as the reward of a Quest, you can either draw 2 cards from the main deck, or score VP by the number of Quests you've completed in that suit. If that wasn't distinct enough, the Vagabond undertakes actions not via a default cap, a programme of cards, or a number of Officers, but via using Items. The Vagabond starts with four Items, and gains more either by buying them from other players with Aid actions, Crafting them himself, or exploring the four Ruin markers dotted across the map. There are different types of Items, allowing different actions – for instance Boots allow movement, Swords allow combat, Bags allow you to carry more items, and Hammers allow crafting or Item repair. Item repair is relevant because you take hits in combat by damaging Items. So you have your own little action economy based on having bought/made/discovered specific Items. There are also multiple Vagabond “characters”, one of which you pick before the game, which defines your starting Items and gives you a special ability. The Vagabond may seem the odd faction out, but as the player count rises, the chaos factor they represent, and the value of their friendship – whether in terms of Aid or in terms of them attacking your enemies – can be a decisive element.

Asymmetry and War

Root is an asymmetric wargame. There's a presupposition nested in that statement – that war can be, or is, asymmetric. The main series of wargames that investigates this concept is the COIN series from GMT Games. One game in that series has as its four factions the Colombian government, Marxist guerrillas, right-wing deaths squads, and drug syndicates. Another has the Romano-British military, the Romano-British civilian government, Celtic tribes, and Germanic invaders. You can see how the abilities and objectives of such factions might vary. COIN games do give different factions mechanically distinct options – e.g., Faction 1 can place “troop types” A and B (which can act in slightly different ways) but no special markers, whilst Faction 2 can place troop type B but has access to the special markers. This style obviously suits strategic faction-driven games; some might argue that it applies less well to other types of wargames. I think I'd observe that all wars and all battles are somewhat asymmetric, in a strict if limited sense – troop numbers vary, command ability differs, industrial capacity is higher or lower, and so forth. You do see other fairly “straight” games experiment with this in mechanical terms – for instance, again at a strategic level, The U.S. Civil War by Mark Simonitch provides different victory conditions, point-scoring methods, and recruiting rules for each side. It's far more uncommon for battlefield games to represent actual mechanical asymmetry – the two sides use the same rules, with the asymmetry being numeric within the mechanics – the Old Guard have Morale A, the pike-armed Russian militia have Morale E. Table Battles by Tom Holland does use significantly more asymmetry in its mechanics, though this is arguably due to a significant abstraction – it's not a map-based game, but is at core a dice pool game, with different units (cards you place dice on) having quite distinct abilities.

All these are forms of asymmetry – whether it's serious factional asymmetry as in COIN, or “logistic” asymmetry as in The US Civil War, “numeric” asymmetry as in the typical battle game, or asymmetry-via-abstraction as in Table Battles. It's an obvious point, but a significant reason people play historical wargames over, say, chess or Go is that it represents actual situations, with two or more sides with leaders and troops of different quality and use fighting over terrain that may give each side different advantages. The flavour of historical wargames relies – usually implicitly, but sometimes explicitly – on an asymmetry of competence, opportunity, and capacity between the combatants.

Root is a game with as much if not more asymmetry as any COIN game; it is mechanically smooth and comparatively easy to learn; it is compact in terms of time (30-120 minutes, depending on player count) and box size (more important than some think!). Most of all, it's just very good fun. It's fun for the reasons stated – playing a real game of discovery in a relatively short time period with grokkable rules is rare and great – but it's also fun because it's cute and it tells great stories.

Why hasn't it achieved the same sort of success with my fellow “traditional” wargamers as the COIN series? Sure, the latter gets some sniffs from grognards over how like a Euro it seems to them, but that hasn't stopped plenty of greyheads getting into the series, and one need only look at the speed of release of new volumes by GMT to see how commercially viable it's been for them. Root is, in most respects, a “bigger” game – it's already in the BGG top 100, it's gone through three printings, with the latest in five figure numbers, it's got massive industry coverage. Why isn't it more popular with wargamers?

Because it's a fantasy game about cute little animals.

The Fantasy Theme and Wargames

The fantasy theme is not terribly well respected by traditional wargamers. This isn't surprising; if one is interested in history, then fantasy wargames do not cut the mustard. In a way, this is an unanswerable criticism. Fantasy wargames – whether War of the Ring, Wizard Kings, or Root – simulate no actual conflict, offer no actual historical insight.

This probably explains why none of the three games I've just mentioned are hex-and-counter, and scarcely any fantasy wargames are. The most traditional, the most simulatory of subgenres has no place for entirely ahistorical fantasy (though you wouldn't know it based on some of the World War 2 games I've played...).

The best way to frame any argument for grizzled grognards to play fantasy wargames (Root, in this case) is instead, I think, to explain why I enjoy it. It won't convince those most focussed on games-as-history, but it may sway some fence-sitters.

Well, Root is fun, it's not super-weighty, it has a quick playtime (30 minutes per player once players know rules). But it's also, definitively, a wargame – even within the narrower definitions you sometimes get, it involves plenty of direct conflict based on armies. That action is relatively simple and the tactics abstracted (affected chiefly by card-use, both passive and active), but it's a big part of the game. Indeed, it's here that the least wargamey faction, the Vagabond, becomes the MOST wargamey – once he's committed, and is scoring points off killing off warriors from a faction, he becomes the faction who most directly benefits from conflict.

Of course, “involves direct army conflict” is a very limited definition of wargame, and does mean that, yes, Risk is a wargame. More importantly, Root does actually offer light but compelling simulation of a number of wargaming norms, which add up to make it an interesting lens through which to see the hobby's subject. (Also – a non-traumatic lens for some who would find actual war, especially modern war, disturbingly close to home.)

The game offers up one of the cleverest simple supply systems I know. You can only move over a particular connecting path if you control either the clearing you are moving from or the clearing you are moving to. For the Marquise, her supply system of wood to build industrial buildings relies on paths of controlled clearings. As a way to get you thinking about the value of control of space – especially in the context of space with particular connections and routes – this is good. It's a lot simpler than Zucker!

Root also leverages its asymmetry with incredible elegance to model two elements of war which plenty of traditional wargames look at – doctrine and war aims. Doctrine is a nearly universal concern of games at the grand tactical and (for WW2) operational scales. This can be modelled via OOBs, or via special rules for one side or the other, or via the simple expedient of combat strength (Panzer divisions get 5 attack whilst French DCRs get 3, or whatever). Root effectively uses the special rule system, but in a way that is organically determinative of play, which I appreciate but which isn't always the case. The Eyrie are very aggressive, skilled in combat, but not very interested in non-combat tech – their limitations on crafting, the Decree forcing them to fight or Turmoil, and the three of the four leaders who incentivize warfare all not just represent that ludically, but also inform your play. You can play around their limitations, or seek to develop other strengths, but the standard combat doctrine of a nation of falcons and hawks is definitely there – and it's very different from the Marquise, who is mostly aggressive to find space to build (to score points via building and via Crafting) and is otherwise more defensive of her territory, and they're both very different from the Woodland Alliance, who scores points not via territorial control or expansion or combat, but via gaining soft power through Sympathy, with their military bases as a hub from which to spread propaganda.

Which brings us to war aims – though this is chiefly a concern of strategic games in the traditional sphere, it's nonetheless a key area of simulation design. How do you show the player why Germany invaded Russia in the two world wars? Do you, as a designer, simply think it was the “arrogance of princes”, do you think it related to a perceived need for flank security, or do you think it was really about the resources of the Ukraine and the Caucasus? Your design will follow from there. Root does the same, and does it asymmetrically – as mentioned above, each faction scores points differently. The Marquise is concerned with industry and makes war to aid that, the Eyrie has a domestic audience who demands success and expansion, the Woodland Alliance wins by surviving its battles and winning hearts and minds, and the Vagabond defines their own objectives in their wanders through the forest.

Elegant, intelligent pieces of wargame design – here I've considered supply, doctrine, and war aims, though there are other similarly clever things in this game – can give us insight even where they apply to no actual conflict. Modelling a fantasy situation allows us to consider how certain needs or ideas drive both battle and war, without immediately needing to argue out whether it was in fact some bloke called Franz Ferdinand or the grain of the Ukraine that was the real reason for the whole thing. Root presents, at a fairly simple and approachable level, an Ideal form of war, its motives, and its means. It simulates no particular war – and in doing so, I think, gives insight on every war.

REVIEW: Fort Sumter – by Mark Herman (GMT Games)

Mark Herman invented the modern card-driven game (CDG), particularly in its most common formulation – players take turns playing a card from their hand either for the amount of action points denoted at the top of the card, or for the special event described on it. The former is much more flexible, whilst the latter is much more specific but more powerful.

These games range from the former BoardGameGeek #1 Twilight Struggle to the six-player game of diplomacy and warfare Here I Stand. A lot of these games run long – though a few examples might take 2 or 3 hours, some of the big boys like Herman's own Empire of the Sun can run at least 6 hours. Fort Sumter, Herman's latest from GMT, is a CDG that takes 25-40 minutes, and is intended to be played over a single lunchtime. It's a game about the efforts by Unionist and Secessionist politicians to see their side win out leading up to the American Civil War,

Very quick run-down: over three rounds plus a final minigame, two players vie for control of four areas (Public Opinion, Political, Secession, Armaments) on the board, each of which is made up of three spaces. One space is in turn the “Pivotal Space” for that area – control of it allows manipulation of the control tokens in that area at the end of the round, before scoring. Players alternate playing cards, generally to place or remove their tokens or their opponents from the spaces on the board (both action point use and most card events have to do with this). They are trying to control areas at the end of the round, and to control a specific space defined by a secret objective card they drew at the start of the round. They also set aside a card each round to use in the final minigame, the “Final Crisis”, which has three mini-rounds of its own, the result of each of which gives players another chance to manipulate the control of spaces on the board (this is a way in which Fort Sumter is very like 1960: The Making of the President, for those familiar). Each card has a characteristic matching one of three areas of the four you want want to control during the game – if you and your opponent play a matching characteristic in a Final Crisis mini-round, you both remove cubes from that area, if you play different characteristics, you both can place cubes into that area.

There are a couple of garnishes on this fairly simple salad. A bit of saucy drizzle, if you will. There is a Crisis Track, which is where the cubes you use to mark your side's control of a space are stored. This is divided into four zones; as you escalate the crisis by putting more influence into the struggle to win over key constituencies, certain effects come into play. Basically, if you breach Crisis zones before your opponent, you generally receive a penalty. One of the zones involves a VP penalty (but you get more bonus cubes than your opponent will); another lets your opponent play the Peace Commissioner, a piece who blocks placement, movement, or removal of pieces from a particular space. That's the second garnish – the Peace Commissioner lets you lock down a piece of the board, and can be moved by certain cards being played for their event.

It's fun, simple, clean. It's a solid introduction to CDGs, with fairly open interactions which allow you to consider whether you should play a card for points, its event, or put it into the Final Crisis. The order in which you play your cards each turns matters, whether because it masks or exposes your objective card, or because of the roving Peace Commissioner. The Final Crisis itself has some borderline meaningful bluffing and pop psychology involved (“if they have Armaments, when will they play it?!”). It's a lovely little palate cleanser with real content. But.

But it raises for me the complex question – especially with wargames, which this is adjunct to – of the relationship of theme and rules. Yes, the cards are called things like “Frederick Douglass” (a Unionist event who boost Public Opinion for your side) or “Russell of the Times” (a neutral event who lets you convert Public Opinion into Secession or Political influence). There's some slight connection between card theme and area of influence here, yes – Frederick Douglass writes a book which increases Abolitionist sentiment, Russell is an influential journalist who affects local politics. But it's skin-deep, really. The areas are broadly interchangeable, except Politics can't be shifted during the Final Crisis, and the Armaments space Fort Sumter is the tiebreaker space. That's cute, but ultimately bland.

In the strongest Euros – at least those which I engage with best – the theme communicates the rules. In the best wargames, the rules teach you the theme, that is, the history behind the game. There's little of either here. At best, the theme, so far as the cards and map go, can act as a mnemonic to remind you of something – Fort Sumter is the tiebreaker! But that's it. That's not issues, necessarily – if it's a traditional wargame with abtruse rules which aim to simulate the conflict.

But you learn little about the actual events leading up to Secession, either. You might perhaps be prompted to find out why Frederick Douglass might be considered to have swayed public opinion at the time, but the card itself, and its interplay with the game, gives you nothing concrete. The card gives you a set of mathematical options, not an insight into history. It's a prod to learning, but not a form of learning itself.

I think many – though not all – of us wargamers play games to learn history. We don't believe the game is “historically accurate” in some sort of Emperor's Map form – of course it's abstracting everything to one degree or another. But we play games to help us learn and reflect upon aspects of war. OCS or the Campaigns of Napoleon help us comprehend a bit more about logistics, whilst something lighter like Napoleonic 20 gives us a simpler insight into operational manoeuvre.

Fort Sumter does not accomplish that goal. The mechanics of the game do not meaningfully teach me anything about the Secession Crisis. The game may be a spur to education – but the artefact itself teaches the basics of CDGs far better than it teaches American history.