Meeples, Meeples, Everywhere!

Brace yourselves, loyal readers (heck, even if you're new to Thwarting Complacency, bracing might be an option to consider before reading this post). Today, a gorgeous Friday set under an azure sky laced with wispy clouds that remind me of fresh-spun cotton candy -- Fresh. Spun. Cotton. Candy. Okay, just reviewing the over-the-top imagery there for my own amusement.

It is on a day like this, a wonderful day with a weekend resting on the horizon, that I couldn't resist taking you on a journey to a place that few know; yet once you're there, you may never want to leave.

Carcassonne. Let's just absorb that for a moment.


Carcassonne (Location: 43°13′N 02°22′E) (Carcassona in Occitan) is a fortified French town, in the Aude département, of which it is the préfecture, in the former province of Languedoc. It is separated into the fortified Cité de Carcassonne and the more expansive lower city, the ville basse. The folk etymology, involving a châtelaine named Carcas, a ruse ending a siege and the joyous ringing of bells ("Carcas sonne"), though memorialized in a neo-Gothic sculpture of Mme Carcas on a column near the Narbonne Gate, is of modern invention. The fortress was added to the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites in 1997.

Such a cold description of such a beautiful place.

I'm particularly amused by the fact that the French government wanted to demolish the city in the mid-nineteenth century (and they say Americans tear our history down) after it had survived siege after siege for more than 1400 years. To make a long story short (too late), the mayor and some other distinguished citizens cried "Non!" and one radical architect (Viollet-le-Duc) and some fifty odd years later and Carcassonne was restored to its original -- well, mostly original -- glory. Apparently Viollet-le-Duc cared little for authenticity and more for making it look cool.

Of course, as Mary and John could tell you (and I'm sure they're beside themselves by now that I've completely misled you), this post is not about some city in the South of France (though that is what Carcassonne is). My whole point in today's blogging is to share with you another Carcassonne -- an intimate Carcassonne -- a blood-thirsty, competitive, and slightly addictive Carcassonne.

Many years back, during my days under the Dome, there lived in the Manor (my dorm) a young man by the name of Ryan. Now, in later years, Ryan and I wound up living with Andy in Los Angeles as arch nemeses (there was this thing with a cell phone and man did it get under my skin). Those dark times are behind us and like all true arch nemeses, we had started out as friends and returned to that peace years later. Now you need to know that Ryan -- he likes gaming. Loves it. It's like a drug to him and there will never be enough stategic games invented to sate him. There just won't. So of course, he was ALWAYS asking Andy and I to play him at something. Now, most of the time I said no. Cruel, yes, but then again there was that arch nemesis factor to work in and really, not so much with the gaming on my end.

Except for Carcassonne. I can't explain it. Don't know why and maybe I don't want to, but I love to play this game. Based on the real city in France, this German game of tile placement and strategy became so fun for me that when I left California, I went ahead and bought my own copy, along with some nifty expansion packs, and accepted my geeky fate as a Carcassonne follower.

One problem. No one in Ohio wanted to play. My family never got into it and most of my friends were bored with the cardboard tiles and wooden players (nicknamed "meeples"). I asked everybody. No one was safe from my unrelenting propositioning. Within like the first two months of meeting Erik (right before opening weekend for "Greetings!"), I convinced him to try his hand at Carcassonne. In hindsight, I realized that his willingness to play was probably his way of being a gracious guest and thanking me for inviting him to Thanksgiving. This is no doubt true as it took over two years to get him to sit down for another game -- and that was just last week.

So for most of those two years, Carcassonne sat, untouched, unplayed, and forgotten. Then I met Mary (and that flashback's for another post). See, this is just one of the plethora of reasons that Mary and I get along. She likes this game. She can't help it -- she's incredibly competitive. Don't believe me? Challenge her to something. She'll destroy you if she can (and I say that with the utmost love and admiration). Like me, her addiction for this game grew and it wasn't long before Carcassonne had infiltrated her family as well (Mary bought her mom a copy for Christmas).

My roommate John is also quite the addict (as he and Mary just invented the coolest new sport this side of the Scioto -- PIG JOUSTING), and there isn't hardly a night that goes by at Sobingro that Carcassonne isn't played. Towns are built, invaded, whole wars rage for control of massive fields -- if I were in a cartoon, this is where a giant, flashing arrow would appear above, pointed directly at me, emblazoned with the words GIANT GEEK -- it's fantastic.

That's really it for this afternoon. Oh, come on, it's too nice a day to ponder life and the universe or lament about the end times. My posts lately haven't been chipper, you know, so I thought a rousing rant on the entertaining and often Tourette's inducing pastime known as Carcassonne was in order.

So as the Friday rush-hour begins to build over there on 71-North and the wisps of clouds move off to the edge of the world, I sit happily in my doomed little cubicle on this lovely Cinco de Mayo knowing that another weekend begins any minute and that I will see my beautiful, fiery-haired, competitive, girlfriend very soon.

And I will kick her butt in Carcassonne. ;)