Outside of the card game, Magic the Gathering seems to be a case of ‘never as sweet as the first time’ for me. The first novel, Arena, seems to be one of the best they’ve released. I read the most recent one, Quest for Karn, and… let’s just say it’s hard for me to believe an editor even gave it a cursory glance before it was pushed out the door.
Likewise, the original Magic: the Gathering PC game left me with some good memories. Looking back some things could have been done differently with it. The technology of the game was quickly outstripped by the PCs that came out, it was never a complete and total joy to look at and it only ever got two official expansions to compliment its original card set. Some user mods have come out since then. But Wizards has proceeded with its own game development, and the most recent ‘new’ title is Duels of the Planeswalkers 2012.
The story in the game, such as it is, is relayed in the opening cinematic of the game. Planeswalker Gideon Jura is facing off against legendary dragon Nicol Bolas, who’s lately becoming the favorite big bad of Magic’s developers. While he’s gotten himself into a pretty bad situation, Gideons’s apparently made some friends, other planeswalkers who team up with him. This is pretty much the in-game explanation for the new mode in the game, Archenemy.
Mechanically speaking, there’s nothing wrong with Duels of the Planeswalkers. It’s a good and accurate representation of the card game, from the execution of turns to the utter frustration of having a great combination countered or a key creature sent to your discard pile. And all without having to break your bank buying new cards! As you defeat other planeswalkers in the course of the standard campaign, you not only unlock new cards in the deck you’re using but their decks as well. You can switch decks, customize the loadout in each deck and see what cards you have yet to unlock in the Deck Customization screen. While the cards unlock themselves through gameplay, there’s the option to pay for it if you’re feeling lazy.
However, these cards remain within their decks. It might be a dealbreaker for some that you can’t swap these cards around or make custom decks. You are also somewhat constrained by the formats in the game. Unlike the current iteration of Magic Online, there are no tournaments or drafts for you to participate in. You have standard games, Free-for-alls and of course Archenemy.
Just remember, even when it’s 3 on 1, the computer’s a cheating bastard.
Like the real-world iteration, Archenemy pits you and a pair of friends against an opponent with a larger life pool and the support of Schemes. Your friends can be living people through Steam or X-Box live, or AI partners like those found in the single-player campaign. It provides just enough variation on the standard gameplay to keep things interesting.
It lacks the story, open-world feel and RPG elements of the first Magic PC game, and even the capability for a personalized deck provided by Magic Online. Still, it’s a cost-effective way for a fan of the card game to get their fix without something unfortunate happening to the rent money.
All characters, locations and events are copyright George RR Martin and the events that take place during this game can and will deviate from series canon.
Most of the children I grew up with barely knew Braavos existed.
There were a few who were curious about the lands across the Narrow Sea, but for the most part it was all about the gossip and impressing one’s parents. My mother had just been happy I was alive. I never felt the compulsion to impress anybody. Since I found the lessons dull and the company irritable, I was often running down books and maps I could get my hands on, and engaging the maesters with questions while the other children played.
So when I left Storm’s End at my mother’s behest, I got to see those lands in person. The years I spent aboard the Black Betha were happy ones. The sailors were happy to teach a cabin boy so willing to learn, and I learned to play their games of dice as much as I learned their knots. It couldn’t last forever — what does? — and a raven from Dragonstone caused Ser Davos to put me off of the Black Betha in Braavos. He explained it to me as well as he could.
“The Greyjoys have started a rebellion, and Lord Stannis needs me back home. It won’t be like the little skirmishes we’ve had here and there with pirates. It will be a brutal, extended business and I want you nowhere near it.”
“I can fight.” I was eleven. Of course I protested. “I can carry water to the wounded.”
“You’re a brave boy, Cadmon, but you’re still a boy. It’s important for you to stay safe. Stay in Braavos, stay close to the docks. I promise you, you won’t go any longer without word than I can help it. Maester Cressen will take my letters and send them across the Narrow Sea to you.”
“You could learn to write yourself, you know.”
Ser Davos made a face. “Such things are for smarter men. You’re smarter than I am already. Keep that up. Be smart, and stay here. Learn.”
I wasn’t happy about it. “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”
Kneeling in front of me, Davos smiled. “Good. She told me I was to keep you safe, and I’m glad I’m not failing her.” He took my hand, and placed a sheathed dagger in it. “Here. It’s something I got from a merchant in Lys, a long time ago. He said it was good luck.”
The sheath was simple wood, stained dark, and the handle was the same. With no hilt, cross-guard, or adornments, you could mistake it for some sort of short club, were it not for the small steel seam where handle and sheath met. Unable to resist, I tugged on the handle. The blade was short, no longer than my hand from wrist to fingertip, but it was curved, and there were dark ripples in the steel. I looked up at Ser Davos, eyes wide.
“You give me a knife and tell me I can’t fight?”
“Now, Cad —”
I didn’t hear anymore. I turned and ran from the deck of the ship, onto the docks, and didn’t look back.
I was resolved, in my childlike sense of justice, to resent Ser Davos right up until the first letter came from Dragonstone. Maester Cressen wrote the words of Ser Davos that told me of the Greyjoy Rebellion, of his lord Stannis storming the islands with Eddard Stark and how Jaime Lannister and Thoros of Myr had slain scores of men. It was the first of many, and I read it over and over in the candlelit nights on the docks. I even wrote some back, when I was able.
People need their ships tied up and cast off when they arrive or depart. They may not know where the nearest spice merchant or inn or whorehouse is. They might just need an extra pair of hands carrying cargo to its destination. I was one of several children who fulfilled these roles. They’re called Gulls on the Docks.
I spent the next couple years on those docks. As Ser Davos had bid me I learned all I could. I was starting to pick up words and phrases in Valyrian, listening to the news from the other Free Cities, watching the bravos duel one another. I sometimes bet a little of the money I had on the duels. The fact that I won more often that I lost was a sore spot with some of the other Gulls, especially a Tyroshi boy named Symuril.
“That was utter shit.” Sym kicked a stone away as we walked back to the docks following a nasty duel. He was a dark-haired boy but he’d gotten half of it painted blue in the Tyroshi style. “Ilastus shouldn’t have fallen for that last feint. He’d seen it before.”
“But his blood was up. He wanted to split Timon like a ripe melon. He ended up taking the split himself, but I understand why he attacked so aggressively.”
“Feh. It still shouldn’t have happened.”
“It was going to. Ilastus was hot-headed, moreso than most bravos. Timon knew this and used it. That’s how fights are. It doesn’t change the fact that you owe me ten.”
Sym glared at me. “It was a cheap win, damn close to cheating, and I don’t owe you anything.”
I walked to stand in front of him. “You owe me. Pay me.”
Symuril was older than me by at least one name day. I was close to my twelfth when this happened. He sneered at me, his green-brown eyes full of childish conviction, and poked my chest with a finger. “Timon’s a cheat and a liar. I bet fans of his aren’t any different. And I don’t pay money to cheats and liars.”
It was stupid of me to throw the first punch. Yet that’s what I did. As much as it had been what he’d wanted, Symuril was surprised by it. He responded in kind, though, and we were suddenly on the ground, tussling in the gutter. Ser Davos, Storm’s End and my mother were another world, and in that moment I was a young bravo dueling with an upstart from another Free City because he’d impinged my honor and, frankly, I didn’t like him all that much. We punched, kicked, bit and wrestled until I ended up on top of him, punching his face with all the strength I had.
I don’t know where his stiletto came from. But it was a slender little blade that stuck in my side. It was an intense pain, which made me scream, a feeling of intense heat washing over my belly and side as the blood flowed. I grabbed his wrist with my left hand, and he glared at me as he tried to pull his blade free. I reached for my own weapon, tucked in my belt at the small of my back. The gift from Ser Davos. While it was small, I’d practiced with it a bit at night. I’d learned it was curved so you could draw it in a certain way, and that’s exactly what I did.
I was surprised by how much Symuril bled when I opened his neck.
I’d seen game slaughtered before, and during a pirate skirmish one of Davos’ men had lost a leg. Still, seeing such things is not the same as getting blood squirted on your face yourself because you slit someone’s throat. The Tyroshi boy’s eyes went wide and he gasped, both hands reaching for his throat, his stiletto forgotten in my side. I stayed on top of him and pulled the thin blade out of me, putting my hand down over the wound. I felt him kicking under me, each passing moment making the motions more feeble. His eyes never left mine as blood gushed from under his hands and oozed from his mouth. Even when he stopped moving entirely, and his bowels emptied themselves into his stylish trousers, his green-brown eyes shouted their accusations. I was crying when I rolled off of his corpse and limped away.
I don’t know how I got as far as I did. I remember dragging myself up the steps towards the doors, one of weirwood and one of ebony. My nostils were full of the smell of incense.
The doors parted as the last of my strength left me. I remember gentle hands on my body, and an old man’s voice speaking in Valyrian, two words I recognized.
With regard to narrow passes, if you can occupy them first, let them be strongly garrisoned and await the advent of the enemy.* Should the army forestall you in occupying a pass, do not go after him if the pass is fully garrisoned, but only if it is weakly garrisoned.
It can be difficult to learn the ins and outs of every map without quite a bit of time spent out of game or ranked matches looking up every nuance of each one. I’m certainly not going to suggest you do that. Instead, I’d like to touch on some general suggestions and observations when it comes to terrain.
A lot of build orders call for you to send a worker to scout. You may see the pros doing it too. The truth is, other than giving you the initial position of the enemy, this potential loss of an early gatherer does not provide more vital intelligence, as to what your opponent is currently building or when their attack is coming. Likewise, unless they invest in some other means of observing you, they won’t have that intelligence either. Most of these terrain suggestions will provide you with some means to gather that intelligence, and possibly exploit the advantages some of your units provide.
The Higher Ground
StarCraft 2 maps are not flat surfaces. Plateaus, cliffs and ridges run throughout the battlefield. Many historical military engagements have proven that significant advantage exists in positions upon higher ground. In the case of StarCraft 2, if nothing else, you have the capability to look down into a trench or pathway and see where the enemy is going and in what numbers – at least until you’re spotted and they turn your brave scout into a bloody smear.
The high ground provides opportunities beyond mere observation. Certain units – seige tanks and colossi for example – lay down their fire in an indirect fashion, spreading destruction over a wide area. Doing so from a higher position limits the amount of retribution that can be brought against that position. Such planning can stall or possibly even stop an incoming attack, buying you more time to mount your counter-offensive.
The Path Less Traveled
In most cases, a player with some skill will quickly outgrow their initial placement and need to expand. There are some builds that can take you entirely to success on one base, but sooner or later you’re going to run out of minerals. Expansions solve the potential problem of economic shortfall, but these positions are more exposed to entry, especially from unexpected angles.
Destructible rocks, reeds, smoke and other aspects of the environment will make these approaches less obvious. However, opening these approaches provide some interesting opportunities. Most of them lead almost directly into the mineral line of the expansion. Fast units, such as hellions, speedlings/banelines and blink stalkers, can exploit this placement, bring some damage into the workers behind the expansion, and bug out before your opponent can retaliate. It doesn’t work for every map or every strategy, but with the right timing and units it can be devastating.
Choke Points
Most maps put the players in a position with a ramp that can be walled off and provides some natural defense. Other terrain features can limit the approaches of an opposing force into your bases. As many historical battles can teach us, with the right positioning and preparation, a small force can hold off a much larger one while taking minimal casualties.
Other than the immediate benefit of deterring your opponent, preparing and keeping choke points also allows one the opportunity to build in relative peace. Many players, faced with a daunting defensive position, will throw ever-growing waves of similar forces against it. While they will break through eventually, a canny player will exploit this to build a rapid response and sortie out when the next wave hits.
Of course, if either player goes for air superiority and the other is unprepared, terrain becomes something of a moot point. But that’s a consideration for another time.
* Because then, as Tu Yu observes, “the initiative will lie with us, and by making sudden and unexpected attacks we shall have the enemy at our mercy.”
All characters, locations and events are copyright George RR Martin and the events that take place during this game can and will deviate from series canon.
The road from Moat Cailin to the Twins will be somewhat long. I don’t blame Lord Luxon for bringing me along. It was I who discovered the girl, after all, and endeavored to keep her safe. She’s had a difficult time of it, and while I cannot relate to her exact circumstances, I do know what it’s like to realize you’re an unwanted child among a noble house. I realized it at Storm’s End, a year after I first met Ser Davos Seaworth.
When you grow up without the full support of a household in a castle, you often have time to yourself. When I wasn’t finding time to learn more about reading or fighting, I was exploring. Storm’s End, like most castles, is honeycombed with passages and tunnels either forgotten or rarely used. Most were simply shortcuts, and would lead one to the threshold of a hall or set of chambers without being seen. I’d discovered one that deposited me within earshot of the main hall when I learned the fate planned for me.
“The boy is a menace.”
The harsh voice, pinched with anger, belonged to Symeon Trant. Young, fat and spoiled Sandor Trant’s father. He’d been a guest at Storm’s End for some time, angling to work with or even supplant the master-at-arms. I’d seen him fight in the yard. It might have been only for practice, but I knew how vicious he could be.
“Are you seriously telling me you’re afraid of a child?”
The other voice was the castellan, Cortnay Penrose, my mother’s cousin. He ruled Storm’s End in the absence of Renly Baratheon. While not as boisterous as his liege-lord, they shared a warmth; at least, my relative showed me such a side of himself. I’d heard he was a seasoned warrior and battle commander, but he treated me with kindness. As castellan, though, he wanted things running smoothly, and I stayed out of his way, helping my mother when I could, being as useful as possible around Storm’s End.
But that wasn’t good enough for Symeon Trant.
“I’ve been watching him for the better part of a year. That boy showed no respect for the highborn, and even picked fights with highborn youths. He spends far too much time with the maester and those pirates. He should be scrubbing floors and carving meat from game for our feasts.”
“He’s seen in the kitchens more often than not. Maester Aloysius does not mind his company. And Ser Davos Seaworth is no longer a ‘pirate’, nor was he ever one in the strictest sense. He’s the reason this castle still stands, lest you forget.”
“I wasn’t cowering behind castle walls like you during the Rebellion. I was sacking King’s Landing.”
“Yet now you seek to hide behind me from a mere boy?”
“You will not always be castellan, you know. Robert Baratheon, who now as king can overrule his brother, is not too distant. My brother also stands with him, a member of Robert’s Kingsguard.”
“And running south to King’s Landing to ask for help in dealing with a child is such a better alternative. I’m sure the courtiers will love to hear of it. That will go so well for House Trant. I wish you luck.”
There was a deadly silence. I dared not move, or even speak.
“I will not forget this. House Trant will not forget. And when you find that bastard’s body, I trust you will not forget, either.”
“I won’t. Especially considering that bastard’s mother is family of mine.”
He swept out of the hall. I peeked around the corner to watch him go. The castellan sat in the largest chair in the hall, rubbing his temples. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but as I watched him, I realized he would do nothing. What could he do? I was not, strictly speaking, of noble birth. Having guardsmen running around to protect a bastard boy when they needed to watch the walls and man the gates would not go well for him. And all the protective detail in the world would do no good in the dead of night when Trant’s spoiled eldest slipped into my room with his precious knife.
I ran to my mother. I guess it was the only thing I felt I could do. She listened to my tale, and immediately started packing two bags.
“I am going to King’s Landing,” she told me. “Little remains for me here. My cousin is a good man, and I’ve brought him enough trouble. Having you, and keeping you… I knew, in my heart, it would cause trouble here, someday. And I won’t return to Parchment; my father won’t want to take me in.”
“What about mine?”
She paused, then shook her head. “He already has a wife. To have me show up at his doorstep with you would be just as much of an embarrassment. No, it’s King’s Landing for me. I can find work there, and peace.”
“Okay. I’ll find us horses.”
She turned to me and smiled. “Cad, come here.”
I’d been tossing clothes into a bag. I put it down and walked to her. She knelt and ruffled my hair.
“I’m glad you’ve helped me in the kitchens and around the halls so diligently. You make me so proud, with your strength and patience. And learning to read! I never did that.”
I remember blushing. “I want to make you proud, Momma.”
She kissed my forehead. “You always will. But our paths must part.”
I looked up at her. “What? Why?”
“Because King’s Landing is no place for you. I’ve kept your father’s identity secret all these years to protect all three of us. In King’s Landing, such things become known all too easily. A woman alone is only as enigmatic as her smile and what’s up her skirts. A woman with a boy out of nowhere brings up more questions, and someone will pay for the answers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. You will, in time.” She kissed me again. “I want you to go with your friend. I want you to go with Ser Davos. If you are with him I know you will be safe. And… I have ways to find safety for myself. I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Momma…”
“I know you’re scared. I am, too. But it must be this way. We must go, and quickly, and in separate directions, where these terrible people cannot find us.” Tears were in her eyes. I nearly started crying myself but I bit my lip, hard, to keep the sobs down. She gripped my shoulders. “We won’t let our fears drive us, Cadmon. We’ll face them and overcome them. I was afraid of disappointing my father when I couldn’t read more than a few words, and even more afraid of going to Dragonstone to serve the Targaryens. I was so afraid that I ran from my father, from his love and hopes, from any of my prospects. I let my fear carry me on waves to these halls. But because of that, I had you. And you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will always love your father for that.”
I sniffled. She squeezed my shoulders.
“I can’t bear the thought of you coming to harm. That’s why you need to go. Go to Ser Davos. I know you want to go to sea. I also know the sea will bring you back to me. But for now it will take you away. Just as I am going away. This is the way things must be if we are to see each other again in this life.” She picked up my bag, opened it, and put a small pouch and a sealed scroll inside. “There’s some coin, to help you. And… I wrote you a letter, about your father, for when you were older. Read it when you’re across the Narrow Sea.” She closed the bag’s flap, held her hand there, tears in her eyes. “And know how much I love you, my sweet Cad, and how proud I am of you, and always will be.”
She handed me my bag, kissed my cheek one last time, and told me to go. So I went. I went to the docks to find the man who’d take me away from Westeros, from the Trants, into the unknown I’d dreamed of but never truly seen.
The Viking: Fast, smashing anti-air missiles, wide vision area. Great for both offense & defense.
The Art of War teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of our enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to recieve our enemy; not on the chance of our enemy’s not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable.
I’ve mentioned in the past that attacks on your base are inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before some measure of nastiness is going to roll up on all your expensive buildings and high-tech units. Sooner or later you do need to look to your defenses. Some would say that defenses must take the form of static buildings and choke point formations, while others maintain that the best defense is a good offense. For the sake of argument, we’ll call these two standpoints those of the Tortoise and the Hare.
The Tortoise is appropriate for more static defensive tactics. It’s appropriate that this method is called “turtling”. Like the Night’s Watch in Game of Thrones or the ancient Emperors of China, imposing and immobile defenses can deter or slow down enemy aggression with their mere presence. It also is worth noting that maintaining a strong defensive line can provide a measure of breathing room for you to build esoteric, air-based strategies centered around drops, mineral line harassment or top-tier airborne sieges.
The drawbacks to this defensive methodology is that it’s entirely reactionary. You have to scramble if your opponent comes up with a way around your defenses or attacks a weaker side of your position. It also allows ample time for your opponent to build tactics & counters of their own. Finally, even turtle tactics require resources to maintain their lines and expand, and since defenses are so static and getting caught out of position can be lethal for said defenses, you will be susceptible to strangulation if you aren’t careful.
The Hare takes the fight to the enemy. Rather than waiting behind walls and automated defenses, this methodology pushes out as quickly as possible. It’s a fast and aggressive style of play that relies upon repeated thrusts against the enemy position to throw off their timing. The reason why I would consider this a method of defense is that as long as you’re throwing dudes at the enemy, you’re less likely to get dudes thrown at you. This means you can keep building behind each push, and if you aren’t, you should be.
That’s one of the major problems with relying upon offense. If you become focused on the battles and explosions, you might miss a chance to expand or build. If you look at a replay and see your buildings are idle and you’re flush with minerals or gas, you’re doing something wrong. Attacking quickly and repeatedly can also be fragile in the early game, and if an enemy’s defenses continuously repel your pushes and you don’t adapt quickly enough, your next push might be the opening they’ll exploit to ruin you. Constant attacks can deprive mineral line of defenders, which is just another way of saying counter-attacks can be deadly if your macro is not maintained.
Which way do you tend to lean? How do you make your position unassailable?
