Dec 28, 2019: Marvel

A new game – board or otherwise – comes with the adjustment period where you learn how to play it.

I have been trying to get my head around the card-battling world of Marvel Champions by tackling the tutorial scenario against Rhino. My battler of choice – of the two you’re advised to start with – is Spider-Man.

And I’m hopeless.

I think I’m on top of it all, and then something happens and it all goes to hell in a handbasket. It’s a case of managing your cards, reacting to the opponent’s cards and remembering the sixty-five million bits and bobs you need to do each turn – draw you hand back up, apply threat and god knows what else.

Today, in a teeny bit of downtime at work, I took on Rhino once more.

I laid him out, I laid out Spidey. I shuffled. I prepared.

And it was glorious.
I had him on the backfoot from the get-go. Nothing he could do was really having much of an impact. I could dodge, duck and weave and keep his attacks under control. I got lucky, basically, with the cards. Everything was coming up roses.

I took out his first form, but any good game has a multi-stage box and Rhino (II) is tougher than Rhino (I). He introduces new elements which I dodged during the first half of the fight. He has more health, a bigger punch, but I can get him on the ropes.

And then I won.

I took a decisive swinging kick. Eight points of damage. Victory. I’ve sussed it. I’m ready to roll with a different character. It’s all good.

I packed up, victorious. Put away all my player card, and most of the villain cards. I reach for the villain. He’s not alone. I have attached armour to him, following a card reveal earlier. My damage was blocked, for the most part. Rhino is still alive.

But I can’t carry on. I’ve packed up. Anything now is unfair.

I take the victory, but it’s a hollow one. I was on three or four health as Spidey. I was going down without a cheeky heal. But the heal would be costly when it came to the villain’s machinations for world domination (and game victory).

I shouldn’t have won. Not like that. I think I would have lost,

It turns out I haven’t sussed it. I’m not ready to break out any new characters,

Dammit.

My losing streak continues aplomb.