Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Oh, I know, I've used this one before. But who remembers anyway. And how appropriate that we take to the high seas at this juncture, where the Nights of Game have turned scarce.
And so we gather again in another, still undisclosed, location for some sailing and piracy:
Pass that around
Recognize that guy? Our long lost game king now returned to this major midwestern railroad hub from the pacific northwest. We'll here more from him anon.
Home Port
First a load of chit-chat, some grub, and setup:
Rustic Gamenight
Tonight's contest? Bounty, A Game of Piracy, Commerce, and Adventure
Bounty (cover)
Commerce, check. Piracy, a crucial element to be sure but kind of occasional. Adventure, well, "Lost in Space" it wasn't.
Who's $10 is that?
See you next time
Well, the money was good.
Dubloons
And, of course, there were the inevitable sea shanties:
This is the worst trip I've ever been on
A fast bit of the old jolly roger just as the evening was winding down and our prodigal king had us all walking the plank.
Counting Dubloons
Join us next time as we shift from the Spanish Main to the heartland of empire:
Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism
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