Ilya Ilyich Oblomov is nothing like his literary namesake. For the past fifteen minutes the turret tsar of the Podrabian T-55 pictured above has been itching to push forward… to get stuck in. When our M60A1 unwittingly promotes him to platoon commander (see last turn), he abandons all thoughts of overwatch and excitedly orders his driver to make for Strupnic’s dovecot.
Unlike the formidable Friday foxers, the Monday kind are designed with lone truth sleuths in mind. While Roman, my Chief Foxer Setter, would be very interested to know how long it takes you to defox today’s brainteaser, he requests that the comments section isn’t used to share solutions or drop hints.
Despite exposure to Charles Games’ and iNK Stories’ fine creations I still recoil slightly when I see the word ‘edutainment’ in the blurb for a game. I recoil because I know – or think I know – what’s coming. 1. Lots of reading, listening, or watching, when I’d prefer to be scheming and doing. 2. Little recognition of the fact that I might not be completely ignorant of Subject X. 3. The nagging suspicion that I’d have been better off investing my limited funds in a respected book on Subject X than an untried game.
Every Friday at 1300 hours, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. Don’t be shy. All are welcome to participate.
Finally! In response to his comrade’s excited “Enemy armour approaching!”, our patient Dragon tamer kneels, shoulders his drainpipe, and centres the approaching Podrabian tank in his sight.
Unlike the formidable Friday foxers, the Monday kind are designed with lone truth sleuths in mind. While Roman, my Chief Foxer Setter, would be very interested to know how long it takes you to defox today’s brainteaser, he requests that the comments section isn’t used to share solutions or drop hints.
A is for Alphabetised wargame, sim, and site news. Once a month, assuming I can persuade Austerity’s Blackburn Cirrus Bombardier engine to perform the miracle of internal combustion, I spend a day or two scouring Simulatia and Grognardia for stories with the potential to fascinate, startle, cheer, dismay or amuse. Those stories are then dehydrated, alphabetised and delivered, via articles like this one, to people who’ve got better things to do than plough through puff and platitudes.
Every Friday at 1300 hours, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. Don’t be shy. All are welcome to participate.