FrischFisch
Mar. 10th, 2005 11:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jazzfishThe coolest thing I have read all week.
We're number one! We're number one! no longer available, grr
When the Anti-Choice Choose: because even though abortion is wrong, their abortion is different. [via![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skreidle]
And then I blinked and it was a week and a half later. Tempus, as Scott Michelman says, has fugited. Two snowfalls, interrupted by two days of bloody gorgeous weather (during which I was stuck at work, ack), a plague in the house of J., a lot of comic reading [Hellblazer mostly, although the most recent issue of 100 Bullets had me going "What the hell just happened?!?"], and a decent chunk of game-playing.
Speaking of which, I had the "opportunity" to play Fresh Fish again last night. Ow. Ow ow ow. There are four factories on the board [producing fish, games, gasoline, and, um, nuclear waste], and each player is trying to build an outlet store for each of the factories. Ideally you want your outlet to be as close to the factory as possible ['close' determined by number of street tiles between outlet and factory]. So, you go around and reserve plots for future building, and draw tiles. Tiles can be 'dead' buildings [parks, residences, etc] which you build on one of your plots, possibly blocking off someone else's road to the factory, or outlets, which are auctioned off. So far so good.
The real headache comes in with the 'expropriation' rule. Basically, every building must have a street tile on at least one side, and every street tile has to be connected to every other street tile. Thus, every time a building gets placed, everyone stares at the board for several minutes trying to determine which plots can no longer legally hold buildings, and replacing them with street tiles.
This is way more brain-burning than it sounds. Our first game last night had to be called in the middle when we realised that about five turns ago we'd cut the board in half with a row of buildings. Argh. In the second game, two innocuous-looking building placements routed a street over a quarter of the board and at least a half dozen previously-claimed but unbuild plots, unexpectedly forcing Ross's game store from a very nice length-one route out around the board to a length of fifteen.
And yet . . . I find it curiously compelling, in that three-car-pileup sort of way. When people suggest it, I just can't not play. It's like lime tortilla chips: it's not good, just addicting.
[Amusing trivia note: Fresh Fish was originally published in German as FrischFisch. It was designed by Friedmann Friese, owner and sole proprietor of 2F Spiele. Some of his other games include Funkenschlag, Finstere Flure, Fische Fluppen Frikadellen, and the forthcoming Fiese Freunde Fette Feten.]
When the Anti-Choice Choose: because even though abortion is wrong, their abortion is different. [via
skreidle]And then I blinked and it was a week and a half later. Tempus, as Scott Michelman says, has fugited. Two snowfalls, interrupted by two days of bloody gorgeous weather (during which I was stuck at work, ack), a plague in the house of J., a lot of comic reading [Hellblazer mostly, although the most recent issue of 100 Bullets had me going "What the hell just happened?!?"], and a decent chunk of game-playing.
Speaking of which, I had the "opportunity" to play Fresh Fish again last night. Ow. Ow ow ow. There are four factories on the board [producing fish, games, gasoline, and, um, nuclear waste], and each player is trying to build an outlet store for each of the factories. Ideally you want your outlet to be as close to the factory as possible ['close' determined by number of street tiles between outlet and factory]. So, you go around and reserve plots for future building, and draw tiles. Tiles can be 'dead' buildings [parks, residences, etc] which you build on one of your plots, possibly blocking off someone else's road to the factory, or outlets, which are auctioned off. So far so good.
The real headache comes in with the 'expropriation' rule. Basically, every building must have a street tile on at least one side, and every street tile has to be connected to every other street tile. Thus, every time a building gets placed, everyone stares at the board for several minutes trying to determine which plots can no longer legally hold buildings, and replacing them with street tiles.
This is way more brain-burning than it sounds. Our first game last night had to be called in the middle when we realised that about five turns ago we'd cut the board in half with a row of buildings. Argh. In the second game, two innocuous-looking building placements routed a street over a quarter of the board and at least a half dozen previously-claimed but unbuild plots, unexpectedly forcing Ross's game store from a very nice length-one route out around the board to a length of fifteen.
And yet . . . I find it curiously compelling, in that three-car-pileup sort of way. When people suggest it, I just can't not play. It's like lime tortilla chips: it's not good, just addicting.
[Amusing trivia note: Fresh Fish was originally published in German as FrischFisch. It was designed by Friedmann Friese, owner and sole proprietor of 2F Spiele. Some of his other games include Funkenschlag, Finstere Flure, Fische Fluppen Frikadellen, and the forthcoming Fiese Freunde Fette Feten.]
no subject
Date: 2005-03-10 08:04 pm (UTC)Many apologies, but the author of the article you requested has not authorized us to publish it online. You're best bet is to hit the library. Sorry for the inconvenience!
no subject
Date: 2005-03-10 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-11 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-10 10:31 pm (UTC)Fresh Fish- sounds like crossword grid-building
no subject
Date: 2005-03-22 05:40 am (UTC)A strange story my father ran across -- my Israeli cousin is getting married; his Canadian fiancee was visiting her grandparents in Southern Florida and my aunt asked my Floridian dad to give her a call.
He called and identified himself and there was this silence on the phone. Turns out that our Ellis Island shortened name (my father's parents came here in the 30's, and our name used to have a 'vak' on the end of it) is the same as that of the German army officer who saved 40 children in one of the camps. Including both of my cousin's fiancee's grandparents.