December 6, 2018

Stonemaier Games, Kiddo, Dover Beach

Stonemaier Game is always in  constant rotation with the other new & old games hitting the table throughout the year.  

Between Two CitiesViticultureand Scythe are easy recommends.  Euphoria can be a little tedious, though has an expansion coming next year(?), which may fix some issues, however is still an excellent game; Charterstone is an amazing legacy-style game that everyone I've played with has enjoyed.  CJ and I just started Scythe's expansion, Rise of the Fenris, so not much can be said yet, otherwise all the Stonemaier expansions have always added to the original base game, so do not be timid in picking those up as well.

Wingspan drops in early 2019, so if you find yourself really enjoying Stonemaier's lineup, there's more to come!

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In family-ish updates, our family is growing!  So far the little one is healthy and very active.  Here's hoping for a better 20 weeks ahead than the 20 behind.  It has not been a lot of fun for mama.

Despite the challenges, we are anticipating welcoming our kiddo into the world sometime in the spring.  Surely, this will give me more time to spend here, right?


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Dover Beach
by Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.