Run The Boules

“You gotta know when to boule them/ Know when to school them/ Know when to play a card/ Know when to flail. You never trade your token/ Unless you’re in the Viper Pass/ There’ll be time enough for cackling, once the ship has sailed.”

– “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers (in an alternate dimension where Fireball Island, aka Ile Boule de Feu, is more popular than poker, hence rendering this metaphor for life an economically viable subject matter for a song)

Let’s play a game. I’ll say a word, and you say the first thing that comes into your mind. Ready?

BOOOOOUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLE!

If the first thing that came to your mind was “SHIT!,” then you know of what I speak. If your response was “Magic Talisman,” then you have stopped the fireball, and so I say, “Well played, sir or madame.”

If everything that precedes this sentence sounds like psilocybin-induced gobbledygook, I’m going to venture a guess that you have never experienced the pure, unadulterated majesty that is Fireball Island. Which is cool. I was nine once, too.

For those of us who have explored the island, there’s no going back, even by a rickety rowboat somehow capable of holding only one adventurer – although there are clearly two bench seats visible. Pshah!

Much like Torpedo Run, Crossbows and Catapults, Mystery Mansion and a handful of other such games, Fireball Island was the product of big 1980s-style imaginations (likely under the influence of cocaine snorted through rolled up posters of Lamborghini Countaches) trying to break free of the constraints of two-dimensional board games. It’s played on a three-dimensional plastic board replete with fireballs – or as they’re commonly known, “red marbles” – that roll down paths, knocking over plastic explorers. There are rivers with working bridges, and a giant stone idol known by the locals as Vul-Kar, from which the fearless must snatch a glittering jewel so desirable that three out of every four who seek it shall die a grisly death in its pursuit.

When you gaffle that jewel, there’s only one thing to scream in the faces of your now drowning/burning-alive fellow explorers: BOOOOOUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLE! (PROTIP: Try to make your voice sound as much like an air horn/foghorn as humanly possible for maximum enjoyment. By you alone.)

These types of games were so awesome and gargantuan that Milton Bradley tried to invent a new term to describe them, “Floor Wars.” Unfortunately, they were so unwieldy that they monopolized shelf space like Donald Trump monopolizes time that could otherwise be used for intelligent political discussion. Like the dinosaurs, they soon went the way of Iggy Azalea’s career.

But there are those of us who remember, and who are willing to sell a kidney in order to be able to afford original copies of these games on eBay. Some folks even laminate the cards, touch-up the fading plastic board with model paint, and create binders full of Fireball Island case law with which to arbitrate the never-ending procession of disputes that each turn invariably incites.

And we’re ravenous for more. Thus, in my attempt to fool Hasbro (which bought MB) into believing that there is a large enough market for a deluxe edition of Fireball Island, I have decided to assemble a list of other games bursting with the kind of imagination-drunk mystery and magic that we children of the Lucas/Spielberg era took for granted. No matter how amazing these games are, you eventually will thirst for the cocktail of adventure and arguing that only Fireball Island can quench, and when you do, you will go to Hasbro’s web site and pollute that shit to the point they’ll be forced to yield to the dozens of us out here who will not shut up. A convoluted plan, to be sure, but no more convoluted than some explanations I’ve heard for why a player can’t roll the die after playing a “Move Ahead Six Spaces Instead of Rolling Die” card, only to be foiled by another player throwing down the “Cancel Any Card Accept Fireball Card” card.

• Betrayal at House on the Hill (or BAHOTH): Perhaps the greatest game ever created that nobody ever wants to play, BAHOTH is a grown-up take on Mystery Mansion (or even Clue), where players build a three-floored haunted house as they go. Three to six brave souls explore the house, room by room, and eventually something called “The Haunting” happens, pitting whatever poor bastard the overly complex flow chart singles out against the rest of the players. Bursting with atmosphere, detailed artwork, and reasonably-well-thought-out haunting scenarios, BAHOTH is the perfect game for people who are not TOO stoned, have plenty of free time on their hands, and who are willing to potentially be singled out and shunned by their friends for an hour or more. It is not, and I repeat NOT, for those who hate flashlights.
• Forbidden Island: This game is clutch because it can be played by only two people. You shuffle a bunch of tiles and create the island anew each time you play. There are four treasures placed around the island that you try to collect before the island sinks beneath the waves forever. It’s fairly simple, and hence can get a bit old after 10 or so plays in a 48-hour period, but will temporarily curb your craving for the the real-deal island adventure of Ile Boule de Feu. There’s also a Forbidden Desert, which I recently acquired and intend to cross in search of a legendary flying machine this weekend. If you don’t hear from me by Tuesday, my body is likely entombed for all eternity beneath its shifting sands. Rather than bequeathing my board game collection to my friends, I hereby formally request they be placed on a boat in the Willamette, and set afire, Viking-funeral style, in my stead.
• Carcassonne: If you’re the type of person who has amassed a collection of medieval music by which to play medieval board games, then Carcassonne is the game for you. Even if you aren’t, you still may enjoy this saga of fortresses, monasteries, roads and crops. As you build your castles in the French countryside, you fill them with followers, and try your best to conquer the other players. Fans of Settlers of Catan will find certain similarities, with the main difference being that I don’t lose every fucking game of Carcassonne.
• Castle Panic: For those more interested in the monster-bludgeoning side of medieval life, there’s Castle Panic. A spiffy little castle adorns the center of the board, and a hoard of orcs, goblins, mages, and trolls slowly advance inward from the forest to tear your ass up. You play cooperatively to defend the castle, and yet there can be only one master slayer – the person who mounts the most monster heads atop pikes. There aren’t actually pikes, but a man can dream. I refer to this style of play as “cooperative plus” in that you can play with only two people, you’re on the same side for the entire game (unlike the shunning of BAHOTH), and yet at the end, one person can clearly declare themselves the winner and toss imaginary pikes willy-nilly while doing an improvised interpretive dance inspired by the film “Valhalla Rising.” (WARNING: If you attempt to do this dance near a person holding a full can of Fruit Punch Four Loko, you have already accepted full responsibility for whatever happens next by reading this warning.)
• Pandemic: You should buy this game for no other reason than being able to walk around yelling, “Got that Pandemic” like a corner boy from “The Wire.” Props to the Drizzard for identifying that key selling point. Basically, if you’ve seen the movie “Contagion,” you can imagine how Pandemic works. And really, who didn’t think, “I wish this was a board game!” while watching “Contagion”? Viruses spread and multiply around a map of the world, and you and a team of scientists must race to stop them before they wipe out the whole goddamn human race. If saving the human race isn’t something you’re interested in, then this probably isn’t the game for you. Or, like me, you can just pretend.

There are five suggestions to get you started. While writing this post, I just learned about a series of games called “The Adventure” that includes actual rolling boulders, so you know I’m down. Now, to play the most dangerous game, trying to figure out how to convince my wife that we need yet more games even though we just bought Forbidden Desert, Carcassonne, Wizard and The Resistance. If you haven’t heard from me by Tuesday, see the entry on Forbidden Island.

Oh, and before I go, I hope you’ll use the comments section of this entry to list other games that I’ve forgotten here. Or to request my address so you can send me a mint copy of Torpedo Run. My birthday IS right around the corner.