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.
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.
In the getting-on-for-two-years THC has been in existence Graviteam Tactics: Mius-Front has made brief appearances in A2Zs and other articles, but it’s never had a feature all to itself. As it’s indisputably one of the ten best PC wargames ever made, and is responsible for some of my most indelible wargaming memories, this level of coverage borders on the scandalous, and requires urgent remedial action, hence this piece and its companions.
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.
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.
The only smoke that hangs over Strupnic today rises from chimney pots and bonfires. The only tracked vehicles you see in fields and streets are Zendor 600 and 800 tractors. It’s hard to believe this village of cooing doves, dozing mutts, and carefree kids was, forty years ago, the place where the Podrabian invasion began to unravel.
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.
Several feisty eleventh hour orders should guarantee Operation Oryx goes out with a bang rather than a whimper. When we parted company last Monday, three of our mortarmen were running the gauntlet, our Patton was scrutinising a small patch of trees for signs of an elusive T-80, and two of our ‘orphans’ were attempting to neutralise a pair of surprisingly doughty T-55 survivors.