Month: April 2020

Games

Training for Pandemic (the game)

stanarich

A group of us has been playing Pandemic. The timing is somewhat incidental. We had been on the cusp of unboxing Pandemic Legacy. The box has been staring me down for years, and now that I’ve developed a group of players who interact openly and amicably it seems that we have the right mix of personalities to allow for a positive outcome. For, playing Pandemic with the wrong set of people is terrible – you deal with micromanagers, passive-aggressive types, and alpha gamers, among other displays of unpleasant behaviors.

Thus, that we had a crew that enjoyed communicating, would be open to trying out options, and were generally circumspect and contemplative without being overbearing meant we might enjoy the game, and it’s supposed to be quite a fun way to divert some time while engaging in a story that evolves the game’s parameters as it progresses. Given its “legacy” nature, it seemed like I had only one shot at getting it right since I’d like to have a shared, pure experience with one group, and it’s a commitment of 12 – 24 games, with the count varying due to you receiving two attempts to complete each scenario.

One impediment that prevented us from getting started is that we wished to conduct at least one trial run through base Pandemic before opening up Legacy. We needed to confirm that, yes, we would be a solid crew. Given that none of us really “needs” to play Pandemic and that if offered options we’d pick another game, we were not moving toward discovering whether Legacy would be in the cards, and, well, the cardboard, for us. Days passed. Weeks collected. No experiment occurred.

Enter COVID-19. Suddenly, we were questing for games, and most of the people with whom I game are wary to drop dollars, especially for things like app- or Steam-incarnations of boardgames. Thus, Hanabi, which can be played for free, and Pandemic, which one person can host via a phone or tablet, have become standbys for the intermittent virtual board game gathering. And, it’s been a lot of fun, and has confirmed our suspicions: yes, we’re solid. We even make Mr. Goat smile (evidence via the image attached to this post).

As a related side note, I’ll warn that the recent upgrade to the Pandemic app has been a severe downgrade. What was once a smooth, clear, and efficient interface has become awkward. It now fails to provide as much information on the screen, and many of the aspects of the interface have become less intuitive. It transformed from an epitome of a well-designed board game app implementation to something more in the meh category, which makes its fall from grace that much more painful for it’s always easier to never know what you could have had than to have lost it for an inferior substitution. Fortunately, I upgraded only on my phone and shall strive to maintain thee pre-“upgrade” version on my iPad for as long as possible, recognizing that I’ll probably never play the game on my phone anymore for its implementation has lost Eden.

Throughout life, there will be moments where people will try to convince you that groups perform better than individuals at many tasks. Of course, no individual got us to the moon, but in many aspects of life, I’ve found that groups often feel like navigating difficulties to reach points that I’d have otherwise found alone, or at least via a smaller group. Like, at bar trivia, my best performances, for the most part, have sprung from groups of two or three rather than of six. Those in-class activities where you read a paper about how you’re a castaway and need to rank the items you’d prioritize and then you go into groups to reevaluate found me faring worse after being prodded to endorse different rankings. Yes, in many aspects, especially where I’m weak, groups improve my performance, but I’ve found that part of using groups is to recognize when not to use them as well. As in trivia, I know shit about sports and current pop music, thus a co-participant or two who cover those topics is critical.

Pandemic works best when you’re not perfect at it, and when the story is the same for your partners. Alone, I can win at six epidemics a fair amount of the time, especially with certain roles in play. A few particular roles are weaknesses for me. And, when playing alone, I rush along, giving some thought to options but generally play quickly, with a game being conducted in about 10 minutes. All of which is to say that losses are inevitable. While playing with my group, we’ll discuss options, banter a bit, and then select one. It’ll not always be the path I’d prefer, but it’s a path that provides merit, and sometimes it works out better than the course that I’d have undertaken. We’re undefeated thus far, and now after several games I’m a bit reticent to do another for the perfect streak is a beautiful thing. Yet, there’s still one level of difficulty to pursue. We covered 6 epidemics. We covered 7 epidemics. We defeated 6 epidemics with the virulent strain addition, thus now we’re staring down 7 epidemics plus the virulent strain. And, as I write those words it strikes me that I damn eager to face this challenge!

Climbing

Philosopher’s Stone

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Much of my free time, and a decent chunk of my weekly socializing, had been spent in the climbing gym. I’d visit a gym three or four times each week, with each visiting lasting 2.5 – 4 hours. During these excursions, I’d speak with some people beyond mere formalities and hellos, wave and share passing banter with others, merely recognize a shared presence with others, and generally appreciate seeing regular faces. My climbingproduced much exertion and also managed to engage me mentally, as I contemplated routes, focused on divorcing irrationality from anxiety, and fell into a routine, and routines can be rather fulfilling as well as soothing. 

Similarly, during the various peak climbing seasons, I’d travel to various nearby crags every few weekends, and would plot a vacation or two around a distant climbing locale: Wyoming, Greece, Nevada, Mexico, Kentucky, among others have been destinations of the past. This year, I had been looking toward Canada, and perhaps Montana. That any such airplane jump across the country will occur this summer looks to be improbable. Perhaps the autumn will provide an opportunity to explore a now location, though at this point, in this regard, I’m not optimistic. 

While this fate does not please me, I’m ok with it. It’s a one-off year, at this point. I suspect by 2021 that we’ll have something sorted out that will either enable life to return somewhat to its prior flows or I’ll be concerned with much more pressing matters than focusing on this particular hobby. As always, I remain grateful for my health, as it is, and am glad that my friends and I can continue to spend hours together, even if it’s conducted virtually for the most part. 

Even though I cannot conduct myself as I’d prefer, ample opportunities to train and tease out challenges are ever present. The striking thing about life is that there never seems to be enough time. Only as a child, and as a college student, did it seem like time barely proceeded. Hours upon hours could be spent laughing in rooms with friends, staring at walls lost in contemplating, wandering about, and simply basking in the passing moments without being all that concerned, if even aware, that they were moving along. Perhaps other kids did not experience this ease, for I recognize that I was fortunate in many ways, but I hope that this is something we all experience and thus to which we can each relate. I’m not religious, though the loss that is leaving the garden is something that can apply to myriads of concepts, and, in regard to any such permutations, anyone can grasp.

Eventually we cram our lives with activities and responsibilities, and suddenly the days are full, cascading into each other, though perhaps ramming is a better word, or perhaps even coinciding. I don’t know how to word things, I’m barely lucky enough to notice things, let alone define them, but I am aware that there’s so much to do and there never seems to be adequate time to close the gap between desires and outcomes. Maybe later in life this calculus will alter. The accounting between to what we aspire and what we must accomplish to achieve that aspiration might simplify, the distances in-between destinations might lesson. I have no idea, and I suspect that the answer varies per person, just as there are surely people who become lost in time even if they’re surrounded by dominoes of possibilities should they but bother to flick their finger outward to start the race toward knocking back goals. 

I don’t know much about nearly anything, but I do know that there are so many things I wish to do and all of them are meaningless yet that I wish to do them provides meaning. That I embed purpose into them means that purpose spills out when I crack into them. I cannot climb, but I can run. I cannot climb, but I can do core exercises, I can do pull ups, I can do all sorts of activities to keep with my training. I cannot play games with friends in person, but each week some friends will join me in virtual sessions, and in some ways these sessions feel even fuller than they had before given that we’re together despite the madness and everything, for me, feels less competitive, life has become more communal. 

By imbuing the days with goals and meanings—whether targeting X number of pull ups or pushups during the week or making plans on various days or even delighting in a book or a solo game—negativities sort of fade, even if they rise up and threaten my sanity for a moment, they can be quashed. Hell, I can even pause to marvel at the absurdity of our language, a system that allows for “pushups” as a compound yet demands “pull ups” remains separated, and that these moments still entertain and intrigue me reminds me that we recognize the rhythms to which we dance, even if I can never spell the word rhythms correctly without the aid of spellcheck, sometimes butchering the word so badly that I must turn to Google for assistance rather than Word’s spellcheck, because, well, it’s Microsoft and that statement often serves as explanation enough for something not being quite up to expectations. 

For we create meaning, and even if it’s not provided by numerous trips to the climbing gym that distract from the days at hand, and even if I cannot see various people in person, I can still cook wonderful meals for myself, catch up with friends (even with people whom it’s been ages since I’ve contacted), and generally push back that darkness that’s out there, the ever-rising death tolls and the morons who espouse statements and philosophies and ignorance, among the other fountains of delusions. Sure, many of these things are not as fun as a climbing trip; but, fuck damn, when this bullshit ends you better believe that I’ll be stronger, and I don’t mean physically, though I’m damn well trying to maintain my fitness, but that I know how easily this ridiculously self-serving and astoundingly fun activity can be ripped from me you better believe that I’ll be sure to enjoy it even more than I had prior to COVID-19 descended into our lands. 

Other Stuff

Little Perks

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An unanticipated upside of this COVID-19 quasi-lockdown is that we can appreciate aspects of the madness unique to this situation as well as continue certain benefits following its completion.

For example, and I recognize how trivial this is, Costco shopping has improved substantially. What had been stressful, a crowded venue with many people behaving without regard to the presence of other humans, where you not only needed to navigate human-constructed blockades but also dodge carts as they caromed about the store, has ameliorated. That the store restricts the number of shoppers at any given moment, you can move freely and shop without needing to adjust your presence to allow space for others while not needing to worry about some errant cart striking you down.

Similarly, the rare times you find yourself driving somewhere are generally sans traffic. Routes that prompted anxiety for delays would be inevitable now can occur without delay. We traveled to a location that I’d never visit given the otherwise certain blockade of slow-moving autos for miles, and never did we need to hit the brakes to slow down, rush hour be damned.

My family video chatted to play Just One, something we had never done before. We’d play it again, which is to say that we might not carry this connective activity beyond our COVID-induced sequestering. My brother and I engage in semi-regular bouts of Splendor. Various friends engage online for games and other activities, and we’ve begun to video chat at work, which could continue as, down the line, individuals rather than entire Agencies telework. I exercise in some fashion near daily, sneaking in pull ups on the hang board that had been long neglected, and taking a moment to do chair dips in-between emails. Daily runs, even if brief, occur. All of these activities are becoming engrained as what’s normal, and I hope that they spill into normal life once the social distancing restrictions lift.

Spending more time with my girlfriend is wonderful as well. We each do quite a lot of things separately, like she’s chatting with a friend at the moment. Each week, we set aside one night to do things exclusively together, and otherwise, as would be the case during a non-quarantine week, do things separately. Though, it is fun seeing her as we pass across a room to reach the kitchen or bedroom. And, being able to interact briefly across the spans of workdays is also a delight. This entire “thing” seems to bring us closer together, which is a blessing.

All-in-all, I remain appreciative that this societal chaos enables me to remember what’s important and to focus on what matters, which is the love the we bring to each other as well as our wellbeing, and to each I cling with eyes wide open and smiles and appreciation turned up to their max.

Other Stuff

Interludes

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Much of my life, I felt like I was moving to the next stage. Everything served as a transition, with nothing feeling like this portion fit where I should remain. Not that I was depressed or ravenous or anything of the sort. Rather, it was that I anticipated change underlain by uncertainty more than feeling that, yes, this must be the place where I should be. Life felt like early spring, with days that made sense and others that lacked coherence. Situations would come and go, and the vibrations of life could feel like lines of a poem written on a receipt that gets caught in the wind to travel to another place, another time, before returning to the earth as rain and bacteria and fungus take hold. Sparks of beauty and brilliance, whether deluded or not, cast about the world as I planned as well as reacted and generally let the oscillations of the heavens ferry me onward.

Now, I make no claim that I am now grounded. Nor, do I proclaim to possess any semblance of wisdom. The more I act, the more I realize that much of what I do continues to fall into the bin marked react. And, it seems that I can realize mishaps and blunders on a daily basis, whether finding myself irritated for something someone else is doing or not doing to later realize that the primary cause for the conflict arose from my own doings or even simply moving toward someone yet misjudging my location and thus bumping into said person. However, the thought to characterize myself as embedded in perpetual limbo has abated, or at least lessened.

While I do not know where my career might head or even what city I might label as home three years from now and though it seems that friendships as always come and go and that what drives me forward and what bores me thoroughly all might vacillate, little unease underlies my mental state. I feel grounded. Before the uncaring, randomness of the universe and the unlimited fountain of kindness and stupidity that humanity presents, and in spite of the pain that people cause me, often unaware that their actions impact me, and without regard to the beauties that others share with me, I find myself generally excited for each new day as well as generally appreciative of what has occurred. And, I relay this sentiment not to gloat or anything of the sort, but rather to appreciate that despite the chaotic inchoateness of existence that sometimes things feel like they align, and to wonder what may have altered to cause this shift in how I perceive my immediacies as well as fate.

Age could be a factor, alongside experience. Having fulfilled some goals, whether espoused or not, and finding some grooves while teasing at the unknowns so as to develop new talents and interests surely grounds a person. Similarly, chemistry surely alters as the body moves into successive phases of this life thing within which we’ve each discovered ourselves. However, I suspect, and perhaps this is the romantic in me, that having connected with a person who infuses richness into my days and supports me as we dabble together along this planet as it arcs through the expansive unknown is a primary cause of my newfound sense of ease.

Together, we’ll figure out adversities, delight in windfalls, and try our best to grasp the intricacies of our individual and mutual realities. We will make plans, big and small, and we will suffer setbacks. That she’s part of my life makes things feel less like I’m moving from room to room, stage to stage, and more like life is an adventure where we’re narrating ourstory, in the singular and collective senses. Thus, from our eyes and bodies and sense of selves we spring from place to place, we linger as desired, and simply live our lives, while taking in what happenstance presents to us as well as deriving what substance we can from opportunities. Life feels a bit more in the driver seat with her involved in making some of these decisions, whether made together or one of us for the other, a sense of grounding backlit by boundless prospects that stream across the view as shadows toward which we might illuminate. Not to say that I’d be lost, let alone adrift, without her, and I suspect much of this sense of acceptance and purpose has become a fixture of whom I am, but I do believe that nothing about everyday life with her feels like it’s an everyday sort of scene, for the moments spent together fulfill and fuel me, and make me excited for what shall next arrive, as if we’re shooting through space at warp speed, ever searching for new life and adventure, boldly going wherever the hell we can find ourselves, as this wonderful and terrible world keeps chugging along.

Other Stuff

Abstracted Coffins

stanarich

My girlfriend and I entered the elevator. An older woman stood in the corner. Not old, but simply older than us. She was petite, and shared a slightly nod, not a smile, but still she transmitted that she recognized our existence. We smiled back, saying a hello. Down the elevator went toward the basement. The lobby snagged us. A woman stood before us as the doors slid open. We had backed up to allow her entrance. She stared, somewhat agape, obviously uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Social distancing. 4 seems like a lot of people for an elevator.”

I stared at the woman. The door remained open. Its sensor awaited a body to pass its threshold.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She repeated, almost as if looking for verification. Then stop saying that and get in the elevator, I thought.

Everyone seemed confused. Just get in the fucking elevator I thought. I also wondered, “if you’re crazy, why not just take the stairs,” though, to be fair, I never understand people who appear to be generally healthy who take the elevator to travel one floor. I tell myself that surely there’s more to the story, some malady not apparent to the eye. Maybe their parents were butchered in a stairwell; they witnessed it; blood everywhere; tendrils of flesh, or something even more internal and important; psychic trauma, surely.

Eventually I had the wherewithal to press the close doors button. The doors closed, finally. The stranger said, “People have gone nuts.” We laughed and agreed. “So strange.” Then, the elevator reached the basement and the doors opened and we wished each other to have splendid days.

Outside were the people wearing masks to walk the sidewalks. Some people wore rubber gloves. It’s all so insane. I feel like people don’t understand risk, as in where the risks lie. I suppose some people have that perspective toward me as well. I don’t know. From what I’ve read, and from what I understand, the keys are to wash hands, be careful while inside locations shared by others, and to minimize the number of people with whom you maintain contact. It’s like STDs, don’t fuck everyone willy-nilly, don’t roll around indoors where others lurk. But, people are bad at assessing risk, and people turn to their fears so easily, so I suppose it’s expected to see the world gone mad.

Sure, it’d be shitty if the woman entered the elevator and coughed. Don’t DO THAT. I am a cougher. I cough a lot. All of the time. It’s basically like blinking for me. But, these days, I don’t cough when near people. I stifle that shit. If I couldn’t do so, then I wouldn’t go out, or if I had to go out (like my building was on fire and I was going to be coughing a lot) I’d wear a mask. I think we’ll be ok traveling a few floors with each other in an elevator. Not to say that it’s overkill to wear a mask whenever you’re outside, especially while indoors, but I suspect that for most, with this disease, that it’s a panacea more for the mental distress than our physical safety. For gloves, if they’re not disposable then there’re one more thing that can bring the disease into your apartment and one more thing to wash, and if they’re disposable then we’re looking at an insane amount of trash if everyone uses them. Just wash your hands, they were made to resist most diseases.

Of course, there are people who are more likely to die from the disease and it’s understandable that they’d take extra precautions, such as not taking the elevator… I mean, I could have just been in that particular elevator coughing up a storm, and she’d have been fine getting in without having seen me. I don’t know. It just seems that fear got this nation into a protracted and unnecessary war with Iraq following Afghanistan, and that fear got us Trump, and that we’re playing into this manipulative mentality when we view people as threats more than as humans. And, yes, I provide space to people while outside, and I push down my coughs, but I’ll also offer to help grab objects from high shelves and hold elevator doors and generally be polite and caring, for in the end what will get us through the day is not our paranoia but our circumspect vision and calm and minds.

Critters Other Stuff

Bird Song

stanarich

Years ago, I would hear voices. Not often, but even one time is enough to make you appreciate that it does not happen again, or at least frequently. Mostly, I would hear a voice that resembled mine, or something speaking in clear, distinct terms to me. Most of these events happened before sleep, so I figured I was perhaps asleep, or maybe my mind had entered some strange state within the liminal space surrounding slumber. Again, these auditory hallucinations were infrequent and transient, and then they faded from my life. The closest I get is while climbing, I sometimes think that feedback provided by someone is for me. I know that it is not, but it’ll seem like the words are directed at me, in direction as well as content. However, I know that it’s almost always the case that I need to lift my left or right leg or move a hand to a given handhold, so the advice is nearly always close enough to believable, for people shouting advice tend to be the people who aren’t providing all that useful, or at least nuanced, information. Occasionally, it’ll turn out to be a person I know who had said, “nice work,” or whatever, for upon descending or looking down I’d see a smile beaming my way, hello.

A part of me has always wondered about varied perspectives. In high school, I’d switch sides of a classroom debate, from pro to con, as the argument interested me. As a child, I’d try to stare blankly to cause optical distortions in patterns, and the premise of DARE backfired completely as the police officer explained that drugs would distort reality and cause you to feel things not otherwise normal, which all sounded wildly fun and, hell, people must do this stuff because it’s enjoyable in some way or another, hence the few drug-filled, if not fueled, movie scenes I had witnessed by the time I had reached fifth grade. So, I try to imagine one-off situations as I traverse through the day.

Accordingly, earlier today I strolled down a suburban block with my roommate. Birds were everywhere, as they tend to be. Surely, they might be the most plentiful animal larger than an insect. So many birds, everywhere, woodpeckers, wrens, chickadees, starlings, and so on. They’re singing and calling and bickering and generally flying all about doing the bird-things that birds do. What if, I wondered, there were no birds, and I simply heard their din throughout the day. Auditory hallucinations plaguing me. Distracting me. What it would it be like to suffer from such schizophrenia. Nothing else, no voices, nothing to drive me batty or violent or irascible outside of hearing persistent avian articulations. With my eyes closed, as I walked for several steps, the world I know collapsed, for I found myself in a sans bird world populated by a perturbed mind that clicked along as it passed about the world, its machinations internally made audible by bird song.

Critters

Lessons on Romance

stanarich

Saw a male bluebird sitting in a tree; spied himself a cricket, good eating, so he swooped down to feed, or so I had thought. Once cricket had been secured, to a branch where a female stood he flew. Good eating, miss. Thank you, sir. She took the bug. And, down it went.

Now I know!

 

 

 

Later that week I would snack and bring tidbits of what I devoured to my lady – coconut bites, tortilla chips, and other such morsels. She would take the offerings, appreciative. Thank you, wise bluebird.

Other Stuff

Listening for Noises

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Years ago, a friend suggested that movies should be watched while wearing HQ headphones. More immersive will the film become, and you’ll notice additional auditory details, as the explanation went. Her words resonated, yet brought little impact, for I lacked decent headphones and being tethered to the film in such a tangible way seemed like it would be intrusive.

Eventually I transitioned to Bluetooth noise-canceling headphones and found myself streaming films as I cooked or performed various household activities. While my commitment to the movie lacked the observational commitment promoted by the friend, with this device my adherence to her suggestion skyrocketed. Sensory stimulation became rich, sonorous, even if life activities vied for my attention. Then, I set up a passable surround-sound stereo system and found myself delighting like a child mesmerized by some new facet of existence each time a noise traveled across the room or originated from behind or beside me rather than from the visual stimulant before my eyes. Really, each time an explosion or voice or anything of the like plays via a rear speaker, I find myself giddy.

Lately, I’ve been listening to a couple of QCODE podcasts, The Left-Right Game (TLRG) and Blackout. When TLRG released several weeks ago, I hadn’t heard of QCODE. A blog I follow mentioned the release, so I investigated it, and discovered it to be a modern-day incarnation of a radio play. One episode a week to occupy a short run would be a worthwhile addition to the queue of things to listen to while running. I suppose that the first episode intrigued me enough that I downloaded Blackout as well, finding the summary of its plot to be a fine addition to the limbo that social distancing invokes. TLRG begins with a warning that is also somewhat of an advertisement for Sonos, a sponsor of QCODE. Basically, each episode warns you to be mindful that TLRG provides an immersive-sound experience, that noises may startle or confuse you. Appropriately enough the first episode includes noises of a car crash, and at the same moment, an ambulance came down the road with its sirens blaring, synchronized events across podcast and life. Hearing the ambulance before seeing it, I had reminded myself: it’s just the podcast, to discover that, no, it wasn’t simply the podcast that I had heard.

TLRG has a strong horror element to it. Given the relatively quiet streets, and the general state of unease populating our world given COVID-19, dark thoughts sometimes creep into mind. I imagine how different periods spent outside might be were zombies or aliens or general warfare have overtaken us rather than this disease. Going outside would be less safe, in rather dramatic fashions. I often contemplate danger. A source of this paranoia arising from having grown up with the DC Sniper being at large, and generally being terrified by the reckless monstrosity of mass shootings. These societal calamities likely magnified something innate and nascent that had been within me since birth, for even as a small child walking to the bus stop, I would conjure scenarios of bullets from people and laser beams from antennae atop houses streaming at me, alongside options as to dodge or combat these assailants.

Thus, it’s not surprising that as the podcast played, I anticipated a bullet streaking down from any of the surrounding Pentagon City buildings toward me. I spied options for cover, ways to maximize my odds of survival. With so many gun nuts, and the increasing numbers of their kind, as this disease situation magnifies, along with it peoples’ growing inability to obtain required resources, perhaps violence will explode into our daily consciousness. People are always the most terrible sources of mayhem in nearly every post-apocalyptic tale, for we run off of emotions and lack the cognitive discipline to turn down other avenues, and engrained in our culture is this notion that we must do anything to protect our immediate kind while recognizing that for this goal anything goes, and that, in turn, each person out there surely behaves similarly, thus every atrocity we inflict is simply us averting a similar one in kind that would had been turned toward us, ourselves, otherwise.

As with the headphones suggestion my friend had shared, it seems that the more you enhance your ears to the world, the greater the vibrations you can sense, even if their source is mainly simply your head within. And as I listen to this podcast, thoughts of books like the Parable of the Sower, The Road, Station 11, among others play out in my mind, and I’m practicing agility training as I run, though I know the true cause, and it’s born not from a need of the moment, but a desire to get myself ready for when the shit truly does become the daily road upon which we tread.

Other Stuff

Thoughts on COVID-19

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Tucked in my home, I appreciate these days spent replicating familiar rhythms.

The midday run delights me. A different path each successive day. Every few days a course will repeat, however with modifications. It feels like replicating an electron coursing around a nucleus. Not being all that savvy about how atoms work, I can say such things and feel confident enough about my claim without having actual awareness of nuances like veracity. An uptick in birds ferrying straw or straw-like materials has been appreciable these past few outings.

A graph of new nest construction might appear to be exponential given how busy these birds seem to be. They call to each other in the greenspace outside of my apartment’s window. Cardinals to cardinals. Blue jays to blue jays. Grackles to everyone. Same with the crows, at least that’s my read on the scene. Flirt and succeed and then construct a home. Not a bad way to spend one’s March and April. May you find good tidings, my avian distractors.

Other forms of physical activity populate my day. Rehab exercises keep my shoulders, elbows, and upper legs intact. Various core regiments maintain my general fitness. Same with squats and lunges, as well as with pushups and pulls ups and other manners of exertion. Books also serve as stimulants and expanders, of another sort.

Ample games keep me entertained. Every few days, I’ll dive deep into Cloudspire, Too Many Bones, 7th Continent, and other games that work well as solo adventures. Additionally, multiple games of Just One, Half Truth (with alternate rules), Scythe, Pandemic, Innovation, Splendor, and others with a rolling cast of players have kept me entertained, social, and busy. Add in walks in parks, the occasional backyard gathering, and other diversions have made the days full so that nighttime feels like it comes too quickly. Never enough hours in the day, seems to be life’s full-time mantra. For, I wish to code apps and do other activities but never am I able to carve out hours for such outcomes. Though, a lot of cooking takes place. So much wholesome fulfilling food has gone from the kitchen into my gullet.

Meanwhile, for most people, I suppose, this sort of scene plays out. We’re blessed in that our daily lives are rather mundane. Whether we view them as full of purpose or as hours spent in limbo, there’s really not much about which to complain. Sure, I wish I was climbing, and there are people whom I’d love to see in person, but, overall, life is rather rich, and everything is fine. But, really, there’s nothing about which I would lament or gripe.

My lungs suck, yes. And, in a better functioning world, I’d probably visit the doctor to get treated with a respirator dosed with albuterol or an equivalent, for I cannot get full intakes of air and I find myself struggling to speak during meetings, sometimes. Wheezing and the like overtake me at times. Congestion is the story, but, again, this isn’t a new narrative for it’s spring and though the flowers are gorgeous and inspiring (e.g., see just about any cherry blossom), and I will confess that I lose it, in terms of being overtaken by joy, when I see the first crocuses of the season, so, whatever, I’ll accept some flailing of breath on occasion. All in all, life is fine, and that is the oddity of our situation.

And, I recognize that what I’m thinking isn’t new. At any given moment in time, I am one of the lucky ones. That people throughout the world struggle against poverty, hunger, war, diseases, and other afflictions. Life, for me, is pretty darn easy. I get to jest and relax and bring in money without too much difficulty (the ease with which it inflows makes me want to label it as lucre, for it feels almost dirty how mellifluous like can be at times for some in contrast to what so many others experience) and everything is smooth enough and most of my problems are of my own making and they can be resolved easily enough and that’s essentially what life has been for me, and, well, it’s sort of astounding how fortunate I’ve been. It’s like being nobility given how things are now when compared with how they could be. So, it’s nothing special or unique at this moment in time to think, holy shit, life is normal here but for so many people who are sick from this COVID-19 or are friends or family of such people or are doctors or nurses or technicians working in hospitals and living frenzied lives where everything is on the cusp of tragedy and reminder after reminder of our mortality remains at the forefront as people gasp for oxygen even while being intubated and, holy fuck, it’s strange to remark on how lackadaisical my days remain as others struggle.

And, sure, nothing is new here. You have Palestinians who have undergone such torments and adversity that most people would go numb were they to experience their lives. Pick a culture and you can pinpoint the oppressed without difficulty. Nine million people die from hunger or hunger-related diseases each year. That number makes no sense. I don’t even want to Google how many people are ensnared by the slave trade, because its surely a deplorable figure that will astound the senses: why must humans be so evil, which is, to say, human? And, so on, go the deplorable sagas we could explore, while here we go each day without needing to face such realities.

Fortunate, I am to be able to see friends via screens. Even though each day I wait for a bomb, dirty or not, to explode and make this world even crazier than it has become. Bombs that other nations face regularly. I envision planes crashing into buildings. I imagine updates in the news about mutations. My dreams, they’ve turned gruesome, full of revolts and uprisings and dismembered animals, beast as well as human. Perhaps a comet shall strike, or some mega volcano will explode. It seems that chaos shall beget chaos and that we’re on the verge of something gigantic.

Yet, then I tell myself, no, no, surely, you’re only in a momentary panic, and life returns to its usual percussions. Morning alarms. Coffee smells. Emails. Meetings. Kisses and play with my partner. So lucky to have her with me, she makes the days magical. Surely, the paranoiac in me thinks, I must be in a coma, that’s the sole way to explain this fusion of beauty—her proximity—with the chaos of the world, must everything wonderful have an opposite equal to its magnificence yet cast in terror? And, then, after work exercises and food and time spent at play before bed. Not a bad existence, not at all, and I’d spend all of my days in such a rhythm, for this entire experience seems more like a gift to delight in things I enjoy than a disaster, at least when I manage to keep in mind the fortunes that have befallen me.

Sure, I am excited to go on my travels, to climb in new locations (to me) and meet new people and do some of the various things that I would love to do; however, I recognize that this strange situation has enabled me to focus on things that also mean much to me, and I appreciate that I have the freedom to pivot and dive deep into pursuits that bring me pleasure.

 

Games

Root

stanarich

Root has captured me unlike many other games. When playing, it’s fine, and sometimes the processes can feel a touch mechanical. You handle your faction within a rather circumscribed set of rules; following the flow provided by the three divisions of your turn (birdsong, daylight, and evening), ever feeling a touch constrained by the options. Most turns, you cannot quite accomplish all of your goals. Though, when you do manage to get everything done, it feels magical, like completing any formidable to-do list that might apply to any facet of your daily grind. You manage your cards, you survey the board, and you try to figure out the path toward that breakout moment ahead where you surge on the victory track to become everyone’s punching target.

However, once the game completes, I feel entranced. I want to play again, often immediately. Damned be responsibilities. Sleep, another thing to forbear. Give me some woodland hostilities and a happy man you’ll see. The asymmetry is what creates this allure. It beguiles me. That a game can contain multiple experiences, and then their interplay can further set options ablaze intrigues me. Possibilities as wildfire can spread across the forest landscape, and each of them beckon me inward. The flames light my torch, allowing me to illuminate the unknowns of this charming game.

Together, my coplayers and I discover ways to maintain balance, discovering how each faction best accrues points while trying to pinpoint when to focus on a particular player to prevent that person from surging too far ahead, for it seems each faction becomes near unstoppable upon reaching a particular board state. That the balance derives from the rules as much as the in-game dynamics provides for a nuanced game, especially considering each faction conducts its own operations with unique goals that meet directly in the form of victory points.

I love how each faction represents a common gaming mechanic. The Eyrie function via preprogrammed movement, like a minigame version of Colt Express, Roborally, Mechs vs. Minions, or any of their ilk. The Marquise serve as the typical euro where you manipulate resources and build structures, while maintaining some area control to ensure the flow of wood used for building.

The Woodland Alliance at first glance don’t seem to be as easy to analogize, though their use of sympathy and revolts remind me of realignments/coups from Twilight Struggle and the spreading of sympathy is an engine builder for the more sympathy you place the more cards will be added to your supports stack. The more you spread, the more you obtain. Further, there’s a hand management aspect to this faction in terms of balancing between maintaining the supporters stack and your hand.

The Vagabond is the weirdo that has no warriors, and is conducting a limited Merchants and Marauders experience, in that you’re completing quests and basically moving from clearing to clearing to, in a sense, deliver goods as you might do in Star Wars: Outer Rim. Other factions have little incentive to attack the Vagabond, which is good given that attacks can completely cripple the rascal; however, at some point he must be contained for, like the Alliance, he can launch his points forward dramatically, especially if he has become well-armed.

The base deck provides life-path options, as you tend to craft different powers from game-to-game, and the accrual of points via these cards versus the other benefits they can provide (e.g., decree or supporter) can provide a nice side hustle to manage. It’ll be interesting to see how the Exiles & Parisians deck alters their feel. Same idea with the maps, especially given the ferry being another means to move around the board, and the mountain map with the closed paths and ability to score points via the pass location. Even the winter board, with the randomized suits for clearings would alter the feel and rhythms of the game. Dispersing suits across a changed distribution will vary how the Alliance spreads, the Eyrie move, and the Marquise craft. Overall, I love that I feel a tension between wanting to dive deeper into what I know against blowing up what I’ve learned by springing forth variations. Slowly, factions, maps, and cards will enter my experience of this game’s saga.

I suppose, in the end, it’s that everything together feels bubbly. Scythe, a game I enjoy, feels somewhat repetitive, even if the puzzle maintains its allure for me. Root, even with ten plays under my belt, feels fresh, for I’m eager to try each of the factions another time, and probably another time following this next go. This desire to invent, reinvent, experience, and re-experience continually churns within me. Bubbling up in me asking my friends to play again, and again. And, that a group of us once played three times in a night, switching up our roles each time verifies that my ardor for this game isn’t unique to me alone.

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