particular weapon. Obviously, weapons such as knives have no such restriction. Movement is the maximum number of inches that a character can move each turn. Special ability represents a powerful ability that can be used only once per game by a character. Some characters have ranged weapons, such as pistols and rifles, while others can only make close combat attacks. In addition, each character has various modifiers to melee and ranged attacks, both when attacking and when defending.
      The game comes with various scenarios. After a scenario is chosen, each player picks a faction from the following: Marsh Clan, Whatley Clan, Deghoule Clan, and Cult of Ezekial. Each faction has different strengths and weaknesses, but no faction is stronger than any other. The map is then constructed from the tiles. The locations of some tiles are fixed, but the players alternate turns placing the remaining tiles. The mystery cards are shuffled and are placed face down on various locations on the mapboard. Mystery cards represent items or events that are revealed when a character enters that area of the board. Many cards are helpful, some are harmful, and some are vital to winning the game. After the cards are placed, players place their characters on their starting tile. Characters can begin out in the open or take cover in buildings or behind bushes, etc.
      The turn sequence is quite simple. The active player moves any or all of his characters. Each character can move a number of inches equal to his movement factor. Some partial obstacles, such as fences, slow a character down. After a player has moved all of his characters, he may conduct combat. A character may only attack other characters within his line of sight. Next, determine if the victim is close enough to attack. Then determine all the applicable modifiers. Total the numbers together to get a final modifier. Roll a d20 die and add the final modifier to the roll. A modified roll of 20 or greater is a critical hit. A modified roll of 12 or higher is a normal hit. A modified roll less than 12 is a miss. If there is a hit, roll the die again and look up the result on either the damage table for a normal hit, or the brutal damage table for a critical hit. The results range from the defender is stunned to the defender is killed. The damage tables are vicious and characters will die quickly. After the results of all combats are applied, play proceeds to the next player.
      In the basic scenario, the Necronomicon is located within the Mansion of the now departed Old Wizard Whatley. The players must search the shacks and buildings outside the mansion, revealing mystery cards until the Whatley Seal is found. The Whatley seal allows entrance into the Mansion. Once inside the Mansion, the player must discover the Necronomicon. A character must then transport the book back to the home base and successfully summon his god. If a character successfully summons his god, that player wins immediately. If a character fails the summoning roll, the god may kill the character. If not, that character may try again on the following turn. At the same time, a player is also trying to kill off characters of the opposing factions. And, of course, while all of this is going on, the other factions are trying to do the same. In one 3-player game I was involved in, 2 entire factions were killed and the remaining faction had 2 living characters. The player then retrieved the Necronomicon and attmpted to summon the god. The first character failed miserably and was destroyed, leaving one character. After a couple of failed attempts, he finally summoned the god and won the game. Had the last character failed, the game would have ended without a winner.
      This is a simple game but it rewards good tactics. The player who can make good use of covering terrain and provide fire support for his characters will have the best chance of success. But there is enough luck involved on the damage tables that desperation moves can often pay off. Although definitely not for the politically correct crowd, I can highly recommend this game for those looking for a fun evening of blood and gore. The game moves quickly and, although not as short as most Eurogames, can be played in 2 to 3 hours.

      Larry Welborn lives in South Carolina with his wife Melissa.

GAMES THAT TELL A STORY
an article by Richard Grant

     By now we've grown accustomed to thinking of games as either "thematic" or "abstract," or as existing on a scale between these two extremes. We've made up our minds whether we prefer abstract games like TWIXT and CHESS, or "strongly themed" games like BATTLE CRY and MISSISSIPPI QUEEN. Much of the suspense surrounding the new LORD OF THE RINGS game focused on whether Reiner Knizia (noted for wrapping abstract gaming mechanisms in thematic clothing, as with SAMURAI and LOST CITIES) would do justice to Tolkien's story, surely one of the most gripping themes imaginable.

     This abstract/thematic scale has become an indispensible critical tool, a handy way of evaluating games and describing them to other players. But it's not the only tool in the box. I'd like to suggest that we add another descriptive measure, another sliding scale, to our critical inventory. This is a scale that runs from Dramatic to Episodic.
      Here is a shorthand way of understanding these terms,

which come from literary criticism: Star Wars is dramatic. Seinfeld is episodic.
      To put it another way, drama is all-of-a-piece. Episodes are separate pieces strung together.
      Games that are Dramatic have the feeling a traditional story. They follow a unified "plot" with this recognizable pattern:

* a Beginning in which the seeds of conflict are sown.

* a Middle characterized by Steadily Rising Tension as the conflict plays out.

* a Climax in which the tension is released and the conflict is conclusively resolved. (In a dramatic game, you don't need a complicated scoring system to tell you who won.)

     By contrast, games that are Episodic consist of one discrete event after another. These events are not bound up in a "plot"; they do not convey the feeling of steadily rising tension that characterizes all dramatic works, whether games or books or ballads.
      One simple test of whether a game is dramatic or not is whether, after it's over, you can recount it in the form of an interesting story. For instance, "Callie got a monopoly on those damned light blue properties and kept bleeding everybody to death" - as opposed to "Oh, I went to the conservatory and picked up some clues, and then I went to the library and picked up some clues, and then I went to the kitchen and picked up some clues, and then I went to the ballroom ... but by then, Tristan had solved the mystery." The former feels like a story and is therefore dramatic; the latter feels like a chain of separate events and is therefore episodic.
      An example of an Episodic game is TIKAL, by Kramer and Kiesling. (As a rule, tile-laying and block-placing games tend to be more episodic than dramatic.) Each turn in TIKAL is, in effect, a discrete little episode. You explore the jungle; you spend 10 points performing a handful of possible actions. There is rivalry among the "expeditions," but no central plot in the storytelling sense; nor is there much opportunity for rising tension, because each of the 4 scoring rounds is an independent event, essentially terminating that chapter of play.
      This is not to say that TIKAL is not an excellent game. Nor does it tell us anything about whether TIKAL is thematic or not. The scales are entirely separate (though a strong theme May contribute to a game's dramatic or storylike feeling).
      Abstract games can be highly dramatic. For instance, many games of CHESS feature a sharp struggle for control of the center of the board. The conflict begins early. Tension builds steadily as each player throws more resources into the fray, complicating the "plot" to an almost unbearable degree. Finally, the tension is resolved in a furious exchange of pieces, often leaving one player mortally wounded, materially or positionally. The rest of the game feels anticlimactic (as indeed it is, in the classical sense).
      An example of a Dramatic game is Knizia's LORD OF THE RINGS. When this was released and the first players got their hands on it, many felt an irresistible urge to recount their gaming sessions in storylike narratives: "We made it to Mt. Doom, but then Sam died trying to destroy the Ring, and on the next die roll Sauron overcame the surviving members of the Fellowship."
      Such narratives are generally taken to mean that the game has a strong thematic quality, convincingly evoking the spirit of Tolkien. But I suggest that the dramatic element is equally crucial. An over-complicated wargame can be thematically compelling yet dramatically sluggish. So can an RPG among dedicated but, for the moment, weary and uninspired players. (The latter, in fact, probably constitutes the definitive case of high-theme, low-drama.)
      In contrast, even a lightly themed game - say, OHNE FURCHT UND ADEL, or CITADELLES, by Bruno Faidutti - can unfold with high drama, the tension rising steeply as competing "cities" (which are nothing but color-coded playing cards) take visible shape around the board. Adroitly timed moves and countermoves can evoke gasps (or worse), and the climax can arrive with the sudden finality of a lightning-strike. Compare this with a game like CAESAR & CLEOPATRA or LOST CITIES, in which you sometimes can't tell the winner without a score card.
      Personally, I enjoy every game I've mentioned here. But clearly, they are of very different character. Thematic/abstract tells us something about what a game feels like, but it is not the whole story - nor is "interactive," "luck-driven," "low-complexity," or any other familiar yardstick. In particular, these measures fall short when it comes to predicting whether a game will appeal to your non-gaming friends. In this respect, I think the dramatic/episodic scale is a neglected factor in game criticism.
      An engaging theme helps attract new gamers, for sure. So do pretty boxes, clear rules, "good bits." But I believe that the single factor that makes something click with a broad audience - the quality that separates Titanic from Waterworld, or BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (a hit) from VINO (a miss) -- is whether it tells a ripping good story.

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