“I guess you think you’re… You know, like an authority figure, with that stupid fucking uniform, huh, buddy?! King clip-on-tie there, big fuckin’ man, huh?”
—Carl Showalter, “Fargo” (1996)
Paul Baldowski is a writer, roleplayer and husband - a split role that leans heavily towards the lattermost, with smatterings of the others interspersed. He has spent the last twenty years roleplaying, watching short-lived TV series, and reading books at a speed equivalent to an asthmatic ant carrying some particularly heavy shopping.
He has written or contributed to several books in the PARANOIA roleplaying game series from Mongoose Publishing - including the main rules, Crash Priority, Service, Service!, STUFF and the whole of The Underplex (bar some much appreciated snippets from the Traitor Recycling Studio).
Paul Twitters as boreders, where his nonsense is not necessarily confined to Fight Klub or gaming. He also Boos on occasion.
I find doing stuff can be a real problem. Despite the journey often being a matter of getting from A to B, the itinerary involved achieving this goal often escapes me. Playing Fight Klub falls into this dangerous zone of progress inertia. This pain me.
I went through considerable pain getting my cards. Warren went through considerable pain to help me. To find myself where I am now, trapped in a nowhere zone bereft of impetus troubles me no end.
What to do? Well, I don’t know to be honest. I could make plans, but I’d only end up breaking ‘em. Damn it.
The first rule of Fight Klub is to play Fight Klub. It isn’t all that complicated.
Yesterday I got my package. When I got home from work a Priority envelope sat on the dresser just inside the front door. This delivery provided a pleasant surprise and a positive one at the end of a long day at work.
I have only had a chance to remove the plastic wrapper and work through the cards. Good to see I managed to secure some good rates like the Hijackers’ Weapons gear. Now I have to some time reading through and familiarising myself with the mechanics. Yes, I could have gone through the card only, but there’s something different about the learning process when you do it with cards in hand. That tactile connectivity to the game seems to make a difference.
So, this weekend I’ll take a closer look and start with some basic deck building. That done I can co-opt the kids into having a game and learning the rules for themselves.
Good times…
That’s the sound of my fingertips working across a tabletop, frustration driving then to each annoying impact. When will the Postman profer my expected parcel, or am I truly fated never to play this game?
I’m frustrated as well that nothing seems to exist in the secondary market. Where do people who lost interest store their cards? Why hold on to them when you could be shifting ‘em on eBay?
Despite resolving earlier issues with my order and seeing the despatch notice posted at the end of October, it would appear the Dark Gods of Gaming still work against me.
Fickle fate means 19 days after despatch my Fight Klub order still has not dropped through my mailbox. I have been told the average delivery time to almost anywhere is 6 - 7 days… So, events do not bode well. Evidence remains scant, because tracking into the UK is not available, but it seems likely my Kilos have gone astray.
Woe is me! Will I never get a chance to play in my own home with my own cards?
I seem to be in a state akin to holding my breath. While I satisfy my Fight Klub cravings by reading up on the Kilo Three card discussion, I’d much prefer to have product in hand and the opportunity to play. I’m hoping the delivery should be here by the end of the week - then I’ll have a chance, maybe, to get a game in at the weekend… which would be nice!
(* Yes, that’s by Edmund Wells, not to be confused with Charles Dickens’ book of similar name. Or indeed ‘A Sale of Two Titties’ by Charles Dikkens - the well known Dutch author)
I might hope that the package is close at hand, but I honestly have no idea. It would be nice to open those Kilos soon, but I shan’t holdy breath. Post has been a bitch here, and despite the fact the striking has been called off that doesn’tean they’ll spontaneously become wonderfully efficient.
So, I lie here about to go to sleep, listening to one of the cats vomiting in the hallway. Will I get a pleasant surprise sometime this week when I get home? Hopefully pleasanter than the one the cat just left me in the hall.
