I don’t want to blow my own trumpet too hard, but there’s every chance I have finally found a board game I am good at.
I know, right?
We played Isle Of Cats again tonight, this time extending it from just three of us to adding a fourth player, and potentially ruining the game for everyone, in Daniel.
Daniel has never played Isle Of Cats before but, like any game he’s never played before, he was good at it from the get go. He was tessellating those moggies like there was no tomorrow. Collecting cats with numbers of baskets not seen in polite society, whereas I – for example – was forgetting to even keep any cat rescue cards and finding myself in fourth place on the turn order tracker many, many times.
He filled most of his boat, he covered most of rats. The rest of us were a ramshackle bunch. My boat, in particular, was quite empty. There are seven rooms on the boat, I had failed to fill six of them by game end. Everyone else was on 3 or 4 unfilled rooms. Unfilled rooms are negative points. Negative points are bad.
I started off with -30, against the -15 or 20 of the rest of the players.
I’m fricking awesome at this game. I have developed a strategy that I like to call, “get as many lesson cards as you can and hope that it all comes good in the end”. And, for the past two games we have played, it has all come good in the end.
I bloody smashed it today, in what turned out to be a very close game. There were only eight points between first and last.
But those eight points were great. Because I was first, and Daniel was last. There’s a game we can enjoy again because we’ve played it with Daniel and he hasn’t immediately won and scored more points than anyone thinks should be possible. Which is what normally happens. It’s a good day for us. And a great day for me.
We can, however, never play again. I have to retire as the undefeated champion. It’s the only right thing to do.