Gormenghate

After a couple of successive defeats at 1960:The Making of the President, at the hands of the Hustler, I was left with no other option but to bring a lamb to the slaughter.

Someone to practice on. To sharpen my knife, as it were.

How fortunate, then, that a couple of nights ago the Welsh Lamb was up for a visit.

A few beers, a curry, then faster then he could say "Jackie-O", the game was out, the whiskey was in our tumblers and the race for election was on.

I love this game (though I guess that this may be obvious given my recent obsession with it here on the blog) even if, as in this case, I am playing a form of quasi-solitaire against the Lamb (he's slow to pick up new games and often needs a lot of prompting along the lines of "well, if it was me I think I'd do this).

It was a close run thing - I'm a pretty strong quasi-opponent, against myself, and there was a certain amount of randomness being thrown in when my puppet decided to chose his own actions on a few turns - but I managed to come out victorious carrying, as Nixon, the West along with New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio (the Bell Weather state !) and Indiana (Got to love those Hoosiers !).

I think the whiskey helped.

Watch out, Hustler, I'm on your tail !