A Slow Death

I recently watched Death on the Nile, Kenneth Branagh's follow-up to the latest adaptation of Murder on the Orient Express (and also based on an Agatha Christie novel). I'll spoil a mystery right now (not The Mystery) and tell you: I did not like it. I want to get that out in the open first so that I can briefly explore the question: why did I think I was going to like it?

In sitting down to write this brief review, I looked back at my review of the previous film. My rough thesis now was going to be "that movie was pretty good, so how did this one go so wrong?" I was shocked to find that I only gave Murder on the Orient Express a C. It was not, in my original judgment, "pretty good." How had I scrambled that up in only a few years? I decided that what was generally an average film grew in esteem as I forgot about it. And likely, my thoughts on the newest adaptation became jumbled with other, superior adaptations I have seen.

But the ending of Murder on the Orient Express is relatively famous. I certainly knew it before I ever watched my first adaptation of the book. So... what about an Agatha Christie story I didn't know the end of? That was the appeal of Death on the Nile, surely.

Unfortunately -- in this version, at least -- Death on the Nile is pretty rough. Famed detective Hercule Poirot is on a ship sailing down the Nile, when strikes a murder most foul that he must crack. Except... that summary suggests a far better pacing than the movie actually has. Death on the Nile is 127 minutes long, and is literally more than half over before the murder takes place. The first hour is a languid introduction to a large cast of characters -- who, of course, are all reprehensible since they're all meant to eventually be suspects. Indeed, for most of the run time of Death on the Nile, the "mystery" almost seems to be "who is going to be killed?" (And is it ever going to actually happen?) That approach to a murder mystery sounds unique, but isn't very satisfying here.

As slow as the pace is for the bulk of the movie, it's just as awkwardly compressed in the final act. Events suddenly come at you with a breakneck pace, apparently part of a strategy to keep you disoriented in hopes that you won't think hard enough to solve the case before Poirot? If so, it did not work for me, at least. The mystery doesn't really have as many credible motives as it does suspects, which narrows the field considerably.

As with Murder on the Orient Express, Kenneth Branagh has assembled an excellent cast. Death on the Nile features Annette Bening, Russell Brand, Gal Gadot, Armie Hammer (right as we all found out more than we wanted to know about him), Rose Leslie, and Letitia Wright. But for all the stars, no one is really called upon to give a very demanding performance. Everyone is here clearly because they "thought it would be fun"; no one seems to be here because they found their role interesting. The closest we get to a scene stealer is Emma Mackey, who I know -- but did not immediately recognize here -- from the superb TV series Sex Education. She's perhaps the one person who gets to "have fun" and "do something interesting" at the same time, and she's pretty good at it.

But that said, watching Sex Education (which I guess I need to review here on the blog some time!) would be a far better use of your time than watching Death on the Nile. I give the movie a D+. I hear Branagh has a third Poirot movie in early development. Perhaps by the time this one arrives, I'll remember that I probably don't actually want to see it.

Voyager Flashback: Message in a Bottle

Star Trek: Voyager had on more than one occasion teased its characters (and the audience) with the prospect of contact with the Alpha Quadrant and home, only to yank that away (to keep the premise of the series intact). But in the middle of the fourth season, right around the halfway point of the show's run, the writers finally delivered with "Message in a Bottle."

Voyager is within range of a vast communications network reaching all the way to the Alpha Quadrant, and Seven of Nine is able to tap in and detect a Federation starship on the far side. When efforts to send a conventional signal fail, the crew decides to send a holographic message in the form of the Doctor, who is transported through the network to that distant ship... only to discover that it's been taken over by the Romulans. Only he and the ship's own Emergency Medical Hologram can save the day. Back aboard Voyager, the crew waits helplessly for word from the Doctor, and Paris faces the possibility that he might become the ship's physician if the Doctor fails to return.

It might say something about my feelings on Voyager's standard format that I think one of their best episodes so far is the one to fundamentally change that format. Yes, the ship is still lost in the Delta Quadrant at the end of this installment, but Starfleet knowing they're out there gives everybody hope. The Doctor's delivery of Starfleet's message to Janeway, "you're no longer alone," makes for a surprisingly moving final scene.

That said, the tone of everything before that final scene is decidedly different. It feels like on paper, it shouldn't work for such an important premise with such high stakes to be played for comedy. But the Doctor is the most effective comedic character on the show (though the writers seem to think it's Neelix), and having him interact with a holographic doctor who's even more prickly than he is is simply a good "scene suggestion" for an episode to be "improvised" around.

Andy Dick is an interesting casting choice for the episode, bringing a behavior and delivery quite at odds with Star Trek in general. It's perfect for a making a "comic duo" of he and the Doctor, and leads to plenty of great moments. (This exchange is gold: "Stop breathing down my neck." "My breathing is only a simulation." "So is my neck!") Dick's guest performance is tainted somewhat if you have knowledge of his subsequent atrocious real-life behavior, but to watch older entertainment is to be forced to confront thoughts and feelings on this topic with unfortunate regularity.

Where I think the episode loses momentum a bit is in cutting back to Voyager as often as it does. One scene away from the Doctor's Alpha Quadrant adventure makes sense to me: show us the helplessness of just waiting, have the characters talk about the prospect of letters from home, introduce the threat of the Hirogen (appearing for the first time!). But the subplot of Paris worrying about becoming the ship's doctor just doesn't work for me. It cuts away from the tension so frequently that it makes the Doctor feel like he's in less danger than he really is, and it regresses Paris into a bit of a whiner.

Other observations:

• The Doctor turns out to be a good "spy" in this episode, though not a very good doctor. When he first arrives on Prometheus, he awakens a crewman long enough to deliver an ominous line or two and then die.

• "Multi-vector assault mode," a sort of Super Saucer Separation, is a fun gimmick. Though basically butt dialing it at the end of the episode to save the ship is a bit of a cop-out.

• Great Star Trek pedigree among other guest stars in this episode. The Romulan captain is Judson Scott, who played Joachim in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. And the first Hirogen, Tiny Ron, played the Grand Nagus' silent valet Maihar'du on Deep Space Nine.

• Neelix just has to manufacture jeopardy on some scale at all times. Here, his food experiments give a bunch of the crew heartburn.

• The bridge and sickbay of Prometheus are two neat sets. You could never have the regular main ship of a Star Trek show be that white and pristine; it would be simply impossible to keep it clean.
  

This episode almost reaches A/A- territory for me... but the whiny Paris subplot really is a distraction. So I'll call it a "very good" B+ instead.

The Princess and the Queen

After skipping a few months here, or a year there, the latest episode of House of the Dragon jumped ahead 10 years to continue the story.

Rhaenyra gives birth to another child, stoking the fires of gossip around the castle: that her children are not her husband's, and that her father the King willfully overlooks it. Queen Alicent maneuvers subtly against her former friend, bemoaning the dearth of true allies at her call -- until one proves loyalty to her with a horrifyingly grand gesture. Meanwhile, in Essos, Daemon is invited to settle down, far away from the political machinations of King's Landing -- a prospect his wife utterly rejects.

A few weeks ago, I latched onto the notion that House of the Dragon is The Crown with CG, a staid and regal drama adorned with eye-catching visuals. This week's larger time jump, and re-casting of several characters (yet not others?) certainly supports this perspective. But I now want to introduce a corollary to the "how this is like The Crown" theory: most episodes feature at least one superbly executed and genuinely moving scene... even as the whole of most episodes doesn't feel entirely satisfying.

From a bird's eye (dragon's eye?) view, it feels easy to again make the case that "not a lot happened" in this week's episode of the show. We skip 10 years of time, and yet for where we wind up at the end of the episode, you could almost hope to have skipped "10 years and a month." A lot of screen time this week is devoted to the family squabbling between Alicent's children and Rhaenyra's... yet the conclusion, in which Rhaenyra abandons King's Landing with her family, feels like it sweeps off the table all that conflict that was built up over the course of the episode.

The episode also just felt long, perhaps in part due to a big subplot for Daemon that didn't really seem to go anywhere. He's still out there on the periphery, still taking wives for expedience and not holding onto them. The circumstances here are, of course, vastly different from what happened with his first wife. Nonetheless, it's still unclear how any of these events really feeds into the larger narrative.

And yet, I find myself thinking well of this episode, when I find myself thinking of specific scenes within it. The opening sequence was a real stunner in both writing and filmmaking. Rhaenyra being forced to visit Queen Alicent immediately after childbirth was tremendously revealing of several characters: it showed Rhaenyra's strength and resolve, how calcified and embittered Alicent has grown, how absent and flighty Laenor has been, and how Viserys' wits have declined by choice even as his health has declined more. All of that was delivered in an apparently single-take sequence that showcased stunning sets, unbelievable camera work, intricate choreography, and pitch-perfect performances by new and old cast members.

The ending sequence was not as impressive, yet was still chilling. Larys' full unmasking as a calculating psychopath, willing to sacrifice his own family for political advancement, shows him to be one of the most dangerous people in this new "game of thrones" (which my husband jokingly called the "JV league," commenting on how Alicent was not nearly the skilled player that Cersei was).

I continue to hope that the overall story of House of the Dragon is going to arrive someplace more compelling, and soon. But in this long road trip, I'm suddenly quite impressed with some of the stops at "scenic overlooks." So I think I'm going to give this episode a B... even if I'm starting to ask too often, "are we there yet?"

Lower Decks: Reflections

The typical Lower Decks episode has a big story line for Mariner or Boimler (or both), while occasionally letting one of the other characters step up from their normal, secondary role. This week's episode highlighted a character who hasn't often taken center stage, Rutherford.

An issue with Rutherford's implant resurfaces memories from the accident which led to its installation -- including a second, very different personality from that time frame. Meanwhile, Mariner and Boimler are assigned to staff the Starfleet recruitment kiosk at a planetside fair -- an assignment Ransom has arranged to test Mariner's patience.

This week's Lower Decks balanced Star Trek and comedy by having each of the two story lines focus mainly on one of those aspects. The Rutherford plot was doing the heavy narrative lifting, of course. His implant has always been a curiosity; maybe they would explain how they got it, and maybe they wouldn't. I found it interesting that filling in that back story teed up an ongoing mystery for the show to explore. While the Lower Decks collection of running gags is always growing, the show doesn't tend to hang on to dramatic story lines for long. Just as the Pakleds' scheming resolved in one season (and Captain Freeman's arrest wrapped up immediately after a cliffhanger hiatus), I wonder if we're going to find out more about Rutherford's history soon, or if this is a mystery they'll spool out over a longer period of time?

Of course, the way that mystery was explored was through a Star Trek staple, the "personality split." The form was slightly different this time, in a fun way. This wasn't quite "two halves of Rutherford" or some such -- this was showing us that Rutherford actually used to be a different person than he is now, and it pit those two against each other in a fun mindscape. I don't tire of the recurring motif on Lower Decks that "friendship is a personal strength," but it's usually Mariner at the core of that message; it was nice seeing that told from Rutherford's perspective.

Mariner and Boimler's story line was where most of the comedy came from. (And yes, a story about "working a booth at a convention" resonated deeply in my bones.) The parade of Star Trek references  -- both called out in dialogue, and just shown as Easter eggs -- was fun as usual. (Face cut-outs to pose as Kirk and Spock kept making me smile even the tenth time they showed it.) I enjoyed how the premise let Lower Decks play with Star Trek's general fuzziness about "just how militaristic an organization is Starfleet?" And it all paid off with a fun role reversal in the end, when Boimler (not Mariner) flipped out and became the violent agent of chaos.

It's become clear that there's never really a "dud" episode of Lower Decks. (Don't go proving me wrong on that, Lower Decks!) There are only degrees of how enjoyable each episode is. I'd give this one a B+. We're now halfway through the season, and I'm already starting to feel just a touch of sadness about how fast we're burning through them.

Voyager Flashback: Waking Moments

About two decades before the word Inception became the shorthand for "a dream within a dream," Star Trek: Voyager served up its own "trapped in a dream" story with "Waking Moments."

An odd spike in nightmares aboard Voyager becomes a more serious problem when suddenly, more and more crewmembers no longer wake up from sleep at all. A nearby alien race is found to be responsible, but how can Voyager fight them on their own turf: a shared dream world where they operate apart from reality?

Pun very much intended, but I found this episode to be a bit of a snooze. The jeopardy never feels all that great (partly due to the very playful tone struck by some of the nightmares in the opening scenes). The solution to the problem feels like one always resting near the top of the Star Trek toolbox -- "we'll blow everything up if you don't let us go." There's no addressing a core issue of doing a double fake-out: if you thought you woke up from a dream but were really still in another dream, then how can you ever know that you've really awakened from that dream?

Still, while the plot overall isn't particularly exciting to me, it's actually a pretty good episode for the ensemble, with lots of characters getting nice little moments throughout. The opening nightmares do illuminate interesting facets of several of their personalities. (And even though Tuvok's "showing up to work naked" nightmare kind of wrecks the tone of the episode, it is fun to see a Vulcan in that situation. Tim Russ seems not to be playing embarrassment so much as chagrin at having breached decorum.)

The crew teaming up on a "police sketch" of the alien from their dreams is a fun scene. The idea that Chakotay can invoke lucid dreaming offers a nice gestalt of spirituality without doing anything insensitive in regards to his Native American heritage. Seven being the character to hypothesize that they're all in a "collective unconsciousness" makes good use of her Borg history in a collective consciousness. The idea that aliens attack you by locking you in sleep until your bodies atrophy and starve is quite chilling. (If only the episode had found a way to show that consequence rather than talk about it in the abstract.)

But there are almost as many elements that don't work so well for me. I haven't been a fan of the "Harry Kim has an awkward crush on Seven of Nine" story line, and it's kind of at its apex here. When Chakotay disappears, everyone already seems to be onto the notion that they're in a dream -- yet they seemingly have to discover this fact a second time when Janeway risks her life in Engineering. The dopey ending with all the guys hanging out in the mess hall with insomnia is such a strange slide whistle ending to the episode.

Other observations:

• This episode marks the debut of B'Elanna's "engineer's jacket" with tools sticking out the top of a chest pocket. This was introduced to hide Roxann Dawson's real-life pregnancy, but it seems like a practical idea to me, and I kind of feel like it could have stuck around long term.
  

• They actually brought a live deer onto the Voyager sets to film parts of Chakotay's dream. It must have been a weird day on set.

• Near the end of the episode, there's a neat shot depicting a huge cave full of sleeping aliens. Well... I can imagine it looks pretty neat, if you could see it in HD. Voyager has never been remastered from the original film (and a visual effect like this may well have been achieved using "computer rendering of the time" anyway). There's only so much you can really make out.

• Breaking logic a bit, we get exterior shots of Voyager flying through space at times when the crew are actually inside their dream.

"Waking Moments" isn't really a bad episode; it's just not particularly exciting, and doesn't bring much new to a table where several dream-themed Star Trek episodes were already seated. I give it a C+.

Turing Me Up

Clue is one of the few "board games people have heard of" that I think is actually not all bad. (Though like Monopoly, it's a game probably not often played according to the actual rules.) I played Clue a lot growing up, and that's probably part of why I enjoy deduction games so much today. Even though it's is better than, say, Monopoly or Risk, there's still plenty of room for improvement -- and plenty of board games have done just that.

Unfortunately for me, the enthusiasm for deduction games within my regular play group is considerably lower than my own. So it isn't often that I get to play them. Like Sam Beckett hoping that his next leap will be the leap home, I always hope that the next deduction game I try might be the one the rest of my group enjoys. Or tolerates enough to play every now and then.

Deep down, I suspected that Turing Machine wasn't going to be that game. But I had to buy it anyway, because it just seemed so damn clever and cool. At core, it's both quite simple and quite similar to other deduction games that have come before. In each game, there's a mystery 3-digit code. Each digit is a number from 1 to 5. Up to four players are competing to find the code first.

It's how you go about it that captured my imagination. During game setup, at the center of the table, you create an "analog computer," made up of 4 to 6 "verifiers" that each know one key piece of information about the code. Verifier A, for example, can tell you whether the blue first digit is higher, lower, or equal to the last purple digit. Verifier B might know how many instances of the number 3 are in the code: zero, one, two, or three. Verifier C might tell you whether the sum of all digits in the code is an even or odd number.

In each round, each player secretly forms a theory about what the 3-digit code might be, and is then able to test that hypothesis with up to three of the verifiers. Say I test the code 3-3-2 against the three example verifiers above. Verifier A tells me "False," so I know that because I picked a first digit higher than the last digit in my proposal, the first digit is not higher than the last. Verifier B also says "False," so I know there are not two 3s in the code. Verifier C tells me "True"; I picked digits that add up to 8, so I know that whatever the code is, the numbers in it do add up to an even number.

How you conduct these tests is the piece of the game that simply amazes me. The game comes with a thick stack of numbered square cards with seemingly random grids of checkmarks and X marks. Setup tells you exactly which cards to place with exactly which verifiers (there's also a stack of dozens and dozens of those). To propose a code, you grab three punch cards representing your three numbers, each with different patterns of notches cut into them, just like old-fashioned computer data entry punch cards. When you line any three of the punch cards up together, they'll leave exactly one small square exposed... and when you line that up against a verifier's grid, it will expose exactly one checkmark or X on that card, giving you your true or false answer.

I cannot even begin to wrap my head around how these mechanics were actually achieved. Game designers Fabien Gridel and Yoann Levet somehow devised a system where all the info on all these punch cards returns exactly the information to solve exactly the logic puzzle put in front of players for each game. And it's extendable; the game comes with a handful of puzzles listed in the rulebook, but it also provides a website link where literally thousand of puzzles can be served to you at random!

I was, frankly, a little worried that my interest as a designer in this technical feat was clouding my expectations of the game itself. It was likely this would be more clever as a design than it would be good as an actual game, right? But it would be worth owning even if just to pore over it and satisfy my curiosity for how it was made, right?

I have played Turing Machine a handful of times now, and was pleased to discover the game is more than its cool mechanisms -- it was fun to play too. It's incredibly fast-paced; the box's claim of a 20-minute play time is indeed correct. (Not counting any explanation, of course. Which does take a bit of time; understanding how verifiers work can be tricky.)

Deduction games can sometimes be a bit too driven by luck, when a player coincidentally asks just the right question early on. But 1) Turing Machine actually offers a mix of puzzles more dependent on luck with others requiring more skill; and 2) you need luck to be a fairly healthy element in the game, or you will never get deduction game haters to play with deduction game lovers.

And happily -- the deduction game haters seemed ok with it! The alchemy of this game's speed, the way to approach the puzzle, and the information constraints seems to have done the trick. The simultaneous play surely helps too -- because you're asking the verifiers for information and not the other players, multiple players can all formulate their guesses at the same time.

This probably won't be a regular new game in my group. I don't want to push my luck and burn everyone out on a deduction game they actually like. (Or tolerate, if they're just humoring me.) But in light of that development, I no longer want to dig deep into the layouts of all those grids and punch cards to see if I can figure out how the designers actually made it work. I'll just enjoy the marvel.

If I'm rating Turing Machine purely by how much I've enjoyed playing it so far, I'd probably give it a B+. But the fact that I will get to play it more (unlike other deduction games), combined with just how damn clever it is, makes me want to boost that mark. So I'll call Turing Machine an A-. I'm glad to have it in my collection.

Lower Decks: Room for Growth

The newest episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks was something of a "what if?" scenario -- what if we saw what happens after the events of a familiar Star Trek episode?

A shipboard crisis (another "ancient alien mask" incident) has passed, but restoring the Cerritos to normal has run the engineering team ragged. Captain Freeman is determined to help them unwind, leading them on a relaxation spa excursion that only seems to stress everyone. Meanwhile, Mariner, Boimler, and Tendi team up to rig a lottery for upgraded quarters, spurred to cheating when they hear that their rivals on Delta Shift are planning to do the same.

I thought last week's Lower Decks episode tipped the perfect balance a little bit, packing just as many jokes as the best installments of the series, while not being as strong in serving up a "Star Trek plot." This week's episode felt like it had the opposite balance to me: the "Star Trek-iness" of it all felt pretty  strong, but there weren't quite as many laughs as usual.

Mind you, there was still plenty of funny, of course. From great sight gags like "the puppy room" (and a shout-out to us weirdos who prefer kittens), to continuing the show's own running jokes like Towel Guy, to an extended conversation about how to invite someone into your room (that wisely avoided becoming as low-brow as it could have) -- I definitely laughed throughout the episode. And there was plenty of the meta commentary that I particularly enjoy, jabs at how Geordi LaForge has no hobbies, and even a self-depracating joke about "bold Boimler" not being "sustainable."

Still, I thought this episode was one of the least "joke dense" Lower Decks in a while, and part of that was that the story really was focused on delivering the promise in the title: showing character growth. I certainly wouldn't have said before this episode that Mariner, Boimler, and Tendi (and Rutherford, for that matter) felt like they weren't close, but the trio's adventure throughout the guts of the Cerritos seemed like a fun bonding experience for them. The resolution was oddly on-brand for Star Trek too, basically that you have to be better than your enemy -- even though the "enemy" in this case was Delta Shift. (Shout-out to the character design of the Deltas, by the way. Their shapes perfectly matched that of Mariner, Boimler, and Tendi, even as their details differed.)

The relaxation spa storyline was more zany, yet it too felt oddly Trek-like to me -- probably because it's been a long-running element of multiple Star Trek series that many characters don't seem like they know how to relax. (The only ones here who seemed to be doing that well? Shaxs and T'Ana!) Plus, boil it all down to its simplest essentials, and the episode was just saying that different people like different things.

I suppose what I like is for Lower Decks to be a bit more madcap and wild -- that's what this series can give me that other Trek series don't. Still, I absolutely enjoyed the episode even if I wouldn't call it a classic. I give "Room for Growth" a B.

We Light the Way

The first season of House of the Dragon is now half over with last night's "We Light the Way." And it reached that halfway point with much stronger moves toward the larger conflict I think we've all been sensing ahead.

A marriage is arranged between Princess Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon... though both have separate romantic interests of their own apart from their duty to the realm. Queen Alicent continues to investigate the rumors that led to her father's dismissal from the King's service. And King Viserys' health continues to decline, even as he works to secure his royal legacy.

This week's episode of House of the Dragon was arguably the most "action-packed" yet, with some of the biggest plot developments that felt like a narrative dam breaking. But at the same time, it was another mostly talk-heavy episode of the show. There were hardly any action "action scenes," and certainly nothing to the scale of the battle depicted two weeks ago.

So depending on your perspective, you could say that not a lot "happened" in this episode until its final 15-20 minutes. That was certainly the tense focus of the episode, a scene absolutely constructed to trade on audience knowledge of the Red Wedding from Game of Thrones. You could sense that nothing that bad was going to happen, but it certainly felt like something bad was going to happen, and there was almost a slow-motion quality to it all as events unfolded.

On the other hand, so many plot developments actually did happen throughout the episode that you could easily forget, for example, that it opened with Daemon murdering his own wife -- an almost afterthought (forethought?) on the episode's full agenda. Not only were there big narrative moves on the docket, we're still getting substantial new sets. The trip to Driftmarch gave us a lot of beautiful new scenery, from the spacious throne room to the beach perfect for plotting.

While the showiest moments were indeed near the end (Ser Criston's brutal murder of Joffrey Lonmouth, and subsequent move toward suicide), I was perhaps more entertained by the more subtle maneuvering in the middle of the episode. This new "game of thrones" seems to have its own Littlefinger now, in the form of weaselly Larys Strong. His manipulation of Queen Alicent was brutally effective, yet seemingly leaves no evidence that will reflect badly on him. Ser Criston's misunderstanding of Alicent's accusation would be a contrivance fit for a sitcom, were it not instead the dramatic, tragic flaw of guilt that would soon prove the knight's undoing.

Yes, it's still a far more sedate show than Game of Thrones (at least, once the original really got going). A few friends have told me things ranging from "I'm still watching even though I'm not loving it yet" to "I quit after two episodes; should I start again?" (Respectively: I understand, and probably not?) But I feel like my own personal realignment of expectations for the show has helped me enjoy recent episodes more.

I will say, if things don't pick up substantially by the end of the season, then the long break between seasons one and two might actually be the thing to make me give it up. My enthusiasm level right now doesn't feel like it could withstand a 12-18 month hiatus. On the other hand, we are just halfway through the season, and surely the narrative pace will accelerate along the back half. But for now? I give "We Light the Way" a B.

Voyager Flashback: Mortal Coil

Neelix is consistently the most annoying, least sympathetic character on Star Trek: Voyager, but he's still owed the chance to take center stage in the occasional episode. One of the most effective of these was "Mortal Coil."

When Neelix is killed on an away mission, Seven of Nine is able to revive him with Borg technology... but only after 18 hours have passed. The result is a profound crisis of faith for Neelix, who experienced no afterlife during that time.

There are times when I'm convinced that the writers of Star Trek: Voyager really had no clue just how obnoxious they were making the character of Neelix. Then along comes an episode like this to make me certain that they knew. On paper, a story about the death of Neelix sounds like it could easily be "threatening me with a good time," but writer Bryan Fuller seems keenly aware of this and works hard in the opening scenes to portray Neelix as a competent and integral part of the crew. Kim likes his weird coffee. Chakotay needs his expertise. Seven is getting "human lessons" from him. He's acting as godfather to young Naomi Wildman (played here for the one and only time by a different young actress than the one who would permanently take up the role).

It rings false that Neelix, typically the punch line in a Voyager episode, is suddenly portrayed this way. But it is ultimately necessary to set the stage for what's to come. And this story really does need to center on him. A startling number of the characters have already had "near-death experience" episodes. And among the main characters, Chakotay is the only other option for someone with a faith deep enough to be shaken by an experience like this. (The writers reportedly considered Chakotay, but concluded that their story would not comport well with real-world Native American beliefs. Instead, Chakotay becomes an important sounding board for Neelix.)

So Neelix it is. And to be clear, my contempt for the character does not extend to his portrayer, Ethan Phillips, who is quite good in this episode. The figurative "jumper on the ledge" scene, where Chakotay talks him out of suicide, is a legitimately powerful scene for both actors. Throughout the episode, Phillips really makes you appreciate the weight of what Neelix is experiencing: as a survivor of war, the idea of seeing his family again really kept him going, and that has now been taken from him. Phillips also hints at other traumas not voiced directly in dialogue, like the horror of watching one's own death in a holographic simulation.

There are nice moments for other characters too. It's interesting that the Doctor seems horrified by these extreme life-saving measures, rather than embracing them. A conversation about death between Seven and Tuvok touches on some meaningful philosophy. Plus, there are sprinkles of humor as well: the revelation that the Kazon are too unworthy for the Borg to assimilate, Tuvok's monotone reading of Neelix's sing-songy holiday litany, and Janeway trying to teach Seven to "mingle."

Most interesting to me about this episode are the different ways you can read its message about faith. The intent seems to have been to present a story about reconnecting with one's core spiritual beliefs after they're shaken loose. But I think the episode reads (unintentionally) just as well as an indictment against having religion at all. Neelix is left feeling that there's nothing to live for without the promise of what comes after. If he'd had no belief in an afterlife to begin with, he might well instead look at this experience as granting him an "overtime period" in which to do even more with his life.

Other observations:

• I feel like they should have been more explicit that the conditions to revive Neelix were unique to this situation. As it stands, this episode feels like it establishes an ability to resurrect anyone hours after their death, which of course is something the writers won't want to have going forward.

• The Doctor says that Neelix has set a "world record" for coming back after death. What world would that be?

• There are two moments near the end of this episode where characters seem totally oblivious to Neelix's emotional state. When it's Seven, incapable of recognizing Neelix's "goodbye" as a warning sign, it's a subtle and effective scene. When it's Ensign Wildman, blithely walking in on a suicide attempt to seek her daughter's bedtime story, it's jarring that she can't read the room.

• Speaking of Ensign Wildman, an early concept for this episode actually had her as the character dying and then being revived by extreme measures. The concept was akin to Stephen King's Pet Semetary, and would have had young Naomi unsettled by her "zombie mom" that no longer seemed like herself. Unsurprisingly, the writers opted against such a dark angle.

This episode is actually quite good overall. But there's also just only so much I can care about it because it's about Neelix. The writers have simply made him too unlikable for me to invest as deeply as I might have if it had been about, say, almost any main character on Deep Space Nine. If Neelix were not simply beyond character rehabilitation for me, this might be a grade A episode. But I must concede it's still a B+.

The Circus Comes to Town

When the 2022 Spiel des Jahres nominees were announced this summer (if you're not deeply connected to the hobby, think: "Oscars for board games"), the enthusiasts quickly concluded that of the three nominees, Cascadia was a lock to win the top prize. (And it did.) But I've now had the chance to play one of the other nominees, and it may be worthy of your consideration as well.

Scout is a game about gathering the best performers to put on a more dazzling circus act than your opponents. At least, that's what the box says. That theme is tissue thin, adds nothing to the experience of playing, and does nothing to cement the mechanics in your mind. This game is all about the mechanics. Fortunately, Scout does do well for itself in that area.

Each card in the game is "double-ended," with two different numbers (each from 1 to 10) printed on opposite sides -- the card's value changes depending on whether it's "upside down." (Though to be clear: there is no default "right side up.") The deck is dealt evenly to all players, who then must look at their hand without rearranging it and decide which orientation to play that hand in for the coming round.

Play proceeds around the table. On your turn, you must play a run or pair/set that exceeds the value of the player who just acted in front of you. If you do, you take the cards they played for your score pile, each card giving you 1 point. If you cannot (or choose not to) put on such a "Show," you must "Scout" from that player instead: they take a 1-point chip from the bank, and you take one of the cards from either end of of the array in front of them. You then insert that card anywhere in your hand, either side face up. You're ultimately trying to maneuver your hand to create runs and sets you'll be able to play on future turns. (And once per hand, you may "Scout and Show" on the same turn.)

A hand ends when one player plays their last remaining card, or when you've gone all the way around the table without any opponent beating the last Show. At that time, players score points for all the cards and chips they've collected, and lose points for every card left in their hand. Each player gets one chance to deal, and then the player with the highest score is the winner.

If you have a dedicated gaming group you play with regularly, this game might not be for you. If your tastes are for crunchy and complex games, it certainly isn't. But I've written before about the value of a short game that can fill a "one more quick game" slot toward the end of a game night. Plus, there's another niche Scout fills that may be more valuable still.

My friends and I are dedicated gamers. My family, and my husband's family? Much less so. When we get together, if a game is brought out, it's going to be Apples to Apples, Skipbo, or Aggravation. I played lots of Rummy and Gin Rummy with grandparents growing up (negotiating the slightly different rules sets used by the different sides of the family).

Cascadia may have won this year's Spiel des Jahres, but I'm not likely to ever play it with that audience. But I could absolutely play Scout. It has just enough Rummy hooks to be easily teachable to truly anyone (as long as they don't just outright hate games). But for a quite simple rules set, some surprising decision points do emerge. It won't take more than a hand or two for most veteran gamers to pick up on the notion that Showing cards just because you can isn't necessarily the best strategic decision. Rigging your hand for bigger plays later, trying to increase the odds that you'll go out first, looking ahead for opportunities to fill problem gaps between your cards... all of these are considerations in a game of Scout.

Yes, luck can still loom large. Some hands you're dealt are simply better positioned to win than others. (That's Rummy too.) But that larger role for luck is what might keep your aunt having fun and willing to keep playing. Scout is a gateway game for an audience you'd simply like to show to The Gateway, even if you never intend to walk them through to the other side. It's a brisk and fun game for people who would find the generally accepted gateway games to still be "too much": people who wouldn't even attach to Ticket to Ride or Carcassonne.

And so of course, no, Scout is not going to satisfy a veteran gamer on a deep level. But I had fun playing it. I see myself playing it again from time to time. I liked it more than a couple of other convoluted "variants on standard card games" that I've tried recently. Which in all makes Scout a pretty good ambassador for the gaming hobby. I give it a B. I'll absolutely be bringing it to future holiday gatherings.

Lower Decks: Mining the Mind's Mines

The newest episode of Star Trek: Lower Decks, "Mining the Mind's Mines," was the weakest of this still-young season. But that's more a testament to the quality of the episodes so far than an indictment of this episode itself.

The crew of the Cerritos must work with the crew of the Carlsbad to clear dangerous artifacts from a survey site, which have been turning Federation scientists into statues. The artifacts trigger tantalizing visions and grand nightmares, posing quite a challenge for the away teams. Meanwhile, Tendi's science officer training begins... with a mentor she was not expecting.

I found the first two episodes of Lower Decks season three to be truly excellent because they were credible Star Trek episodes that also happened to be funny. This week's episode was no less funny, but felt less to me like a legit Star Trek episode and more like a sitcom in a Star Trek costume. That works well enough -- and honestly, it was all I expected Lower Decks to be as a series, back when it began. But with Lower Decks now having shown again and again that it can do both, I've come to expect more from it.

Basically, it comes down to multiple moments in the episode that turned on characters behaving oddly for the sake of the joke. Captain Freeman will never be in the conversation for "best Star Trek captain," and that's the point -- it's why she commands a California-class starship. But for her and the captain of the Carlsbad to openly feud in front of a delegation at an important diplomatic meeting felt more like a story from a Parks and Recreation or The Office than Star Trek.

Mariner getting caught up in a rivalry is certainly on brand for her character, but the Carlsbad "lower deckers" responding in kind felt a little off to me too. In fact, they were so oddly belligerent, and then so quickly turned on a dime to confess their true feelings, that I initially suspected that the versions of them trapped in the cave with Mariner and company were in fact more fantasies conjured by the alien orbs.

The subplot around Tendi seemed a bit off to me too. It just felt like a stretch, a suggestion for an improv scene, that Starfleet at any level would have unqualified and inexperienced offers training up-and-comers. But all that said, I realize those quibbles start to sound a bit "not my Star Trek" and gatekeepery -- which I very much don't want to be. Especially when they really are just quibbles. So the story this week wasn't top notch. It still worked overall. And certainly, it was very funny.

Plus, it's not like the series forgot to be Star Trek this week. For the third week in a row, an inspired cameo voice made for lots of laughs; this time, it was Susan Gibney returning to voice Leah Brahms as engineer's crush, a full circle for where the character began. The various nightmares conjured by the alien orbs were a grab bag of great sight gags, from giant Borg snakes to killer clowns with bat'leth hands to one of the weirdest things ever shown on the very weird Star Trek: The Animated Series -- the flying serpent Kukulkan.

So no, I don't really have any major complaints here -- just the acknowledgement that recently, Lower Decks has been even better than this. I give "Mining the Mind's Mines" a B. If this is actually the lowest point of the season, then we're truly being spoiled by this fun series.

King of the Narrow Sea

It's possible that after I last week reached the conclusion that House of the Dragon is modeling its storytelling after The Crown, I was now looking for support of that theory in the newest episode. Whether it was confirmation bias or not, I certainly saw a lot more of The Crown in "King of the Narrow Sea."

Daemon returns to King's Landing after his victory at the Stepstones... and is soon pushing his relationship with Rhaenyra in new ways to trouble King Viserys. Rhaenyra bristles at continued efforts to marry her off. And Otto's position as Hand of the King is threatened.

Unusually long for an episode that has little conventional "action," this hour-(plus) of House of the Dragon felt like a pretty "Crown-like" day of stock trading: the fortunes of some characters rise as those of other characters fall. And a princess bristles at the role she's been assigned in the royal family (one The Crown plot line that keeps on coming back.)

While the state of the political landscape undeniably changes between the beginning of the episode and the end, there's still sort of a feeling that not much "happens" over a rather slow-paced hour. This is another table-setting episode, setting up a banquet to be served in probably another week or two. I haven't yet read Fire and Blood, the said-to-be-dry book of Westeros history upon which this series is based (and which George R.R. Martin chose to complete instead of The Winds of Winter). So I'm throwing out conjecture here that could be proven wrong right now by anyone who has cracked the book (or looked on a Wiki somewhere, I'm sure).

It sure feels like the rough model of season one of Game of Thrones is repeating itself: the king will soon be dead, and all the major players are being positioned for an ensuing struggle for the throne. Aegon, the heir of tradition, but so young as to be easily co-opted and corrupted by those with other agendas. Rhaenyra, the named heir, but who has "sullied herself" in the eyes of many who might have supported her. Daemon, the spurned brother with more experience, but who is the last person who should be on the throne.

I hang on to House of the Dragon for now, because it feels like that coming story is going to be a very interesting one. But I won't pretend that this week's slow-burn preparation was gripping. There was twisted chemistry between Matt Smith and Milly Alcock -- not so much romantic chemistry as a twisted mentor/mentee relationship. But those two actors really had to carry a lot of story that wasn't exactly "exciting."

So I'd give this week's episode a B- at best. Here's hoping the real fireworks are lit soon.

Voyager Flashback: Concerning Flight

In any creative field, there can come a moment where even though the creator has set out to do one thing, the creation itself has taken on a life of its own and is suggesting that it go in a different direction. It's not always easy to hear that voice, and it's harder still to embrace it -- but truly transcendent art can come from creators who can. Star Trek: Voyager's "Concerning Flight" is, apparently, not one of these cases.

Voyager's main computer is stolen in an alien attack, along with other technology from the ship, including the Doctor's mobile emitter. When the crew arrives at a nearby planet to recover the stolen items, they discover that the Leonardo da Vinci character from Janeway's holodeck program now resides in the emitter... and may prove key in recovering what's been taken.

In my opinion, a television series really has to earn an episode built around a guest star character. Either that character has to have recurred often enough to feel like an extension of the main cast (the Deep Space Nine approach), or the story needs to be about how this character interacts with the majority of the main cast, showing that each of those different interactions is unique and interesting. Neither of those cases applies here. Da Vinci has appeared in only one Voyager episode before this. And only Janeway has meaningful interactions with him in the course of this story.

Now it does help that John Rhys-Davies is playing the character. Even though this episode aired before The Lord of the Rings was made, the actor still had plenty of fans from the Indiana Jones movies and Sliders TV series. He's bringing his distinctly boisterous performance style to this character too; he's broad and loud, and it's fun.

But ultimately, this episode is such a trifle. It's kinda-sorta the story of da Vinci awakening to the wider world outside the holodeck... except he never actually comes to understand where he is. If da Vinci actually had any character growth, it might be easier to overlook the myriad plot holes. Why does the alien Tau even activate the da Vinci hologram and become his "patron?" How does da Vinci manage to build a glider, by himself, far outside the city, in just 10 days? Why is he not absolutely dumbfounded by electricity (as opposed to casually starting to use it in his new workshop)? Why does Janeway not take back the communicator that Tau took from her after she knocks him out? Why doesn't Tau keep shooting at the glider once it's in the air? Why play around with da Vinci at all when you can just grab the emitter and take it back to the ship, scoring some kind of win?

The biggest question of all: why is the theft of Voyager's main computer processor treated as such a low stakes problem? This is such an existential crisis that it takes the ship 10 days to limp across one solar system. They absolutely cannot get home if they don't get the computer back. Yet everyone is regarding this as a light-hearted romp rather than "the absolute end of the road."

According to staff writer Joe Menosky, who hated this episode even though he wrote it, this was a consequence of the writers' room making wrong decisions (which he disagreed with) at every point in the story's development. In particular, he says their efforts to write "Leonardo da Vinci's Day Off" became overly fixated on figuring out how he gets off the ship in the first place. This is where the "stealing Voyager's technology" idea came from -- and in my opinion, it's the big moment where they failed to hear the story whispering to them that it was trying to become something else. They stuck to the light-hearted romp they set out to write, even though they'd now introduced story elements demanding a much more serious and somber tone.

Assuming you can just roll with it all, there are some funny moments here and there: Seven barking orders to Kim, Tuvok's reaction to da Vinci's mention of Vulcan (the island off Sicily, not the planet), the Doctor becoming desperate for hot gossip when he can no longer leave Sickbay. Plus they certainly threw a lot of money at this episode, filming out in at least two locations (a factory and a hillside), building an actual glider prop, and creating an interesting digital matte painting of the alien city. Still, all that just makes it "watchable" (ish) and not "good."

Other observations:

• When Voyager is firing wild shots in the beginning, they actually destroy one of the alien ships. They're lucky it's not the one with all their technology aboard!

• Janeway makes a priority of retrieving the emergency rations, specifically asking Neelix to focus on it. Quite a dunk on Neelix and his cooking.
  

• The reference to James T. Kirk meeting Leonardo da Vinci comes from the original series' late third season episode "Requiem for Methuselah."

If John Rhys-Davis weren't so damn charming, this would probably be Voyager's worst episode to date. As it is, I'd probably call it a C+ instead. Skippable, but not awful.

Lower Decks: The Least Dangerous Game

Happy Star Trek Day! The franchise began 56 years ago today when "The Man Trap" first aired on television. 854 episodes later (!), the franchise gave us last week's installment of Lower Decks, "The Least Dangerous Game."

Jealous of a fellow officer's unlikely promotion to captain, Boimler becomes convinced he isn't saying "yes" to enough opportunities for social climbing -- and winds up being hunted by a frightening alien as a result. Ransom tries to teach Mariner to follow the chain of command by giving some deliberately dubious commands; they wind up repairing a space elevator orbital lift while Rutherford and Billups get into a tight diplomatic spot on the planet below.

Most episode of Lower Decks are built by taking a stock Star Trek plot and exploring it through the series' unique comedic lens. "The Least Dangerous Game" doesn't raid the "Star Trek plot" pantry so much as the "sitcom trope" pantry. It works just as well, though it feels familiar in a different way.

I feel like "say yes to everything" has been done on multiple sitcoms (though perhaps the most memorable version of it had a twist: George Costanza's pledge to "do the opposite" on Seinfeld). But just because it's been done before doesn't mean it's not funny here. Once a character has been built as sharply as Boimler, having him behave out of character makes for great comedic fodder. And that's even before he winds up being chased through the ship by a vicious alien trophy hunter (with a delightful comic twist of its own).

But when it comes to cartoon characters, keeping everything the same is usually the mandate. In this episode, Boimler likes the results of his "say yes" experiment, and doesn't seem "reset" by the end to revert to his regular self. Clearly, this approach can be just as funny as what has come before, so I'm intrigued to see Lower Decks give us a Boimler who is trying to change for the better.

Changing character was a theme connecting the B-plot, which involved what felt like another sitcom trope: one character's efforts to deliberately annoy another bouncing back on themselves. Perhaps the semi-serious lesson in here is that you can't really teach character building "at" someone. But mainly, Ransom's efforts to challenge Mariner were the means to give us great jokes -- from one-liners like "Starfleet isn’t all about being fed fruit by erotic aliens with slightly different nose ridges" to the societal mash-up of a ruling sentient volcano, telepathic baby, and evil computer.

And of course, I must not overlook the delightful cameo by J.G. Hertzler as "Martok," the digital game master of a hilarious Klingon RPG.

As usual, Lower Decks made me laugh constantly even as it was serving up a character-based story with a dash of serious Star Trek morality mixed in. They make walking that tightrope look easy. It's another episode I'll give an A-. Season three is off to a great start.

Go to Hades!

The last few Broadway productions to tour through the Buell Theater in Denver have all been adaptations: Tootsie, Moulin Rouge, and Pretty Woman -- all with songs (or more songs) added to scripts that basically track the film versions. The current show is also technically an adaptation, but its roots go considerably farther back.

Hadestown is the singular creation of Anaïs Mitchell, who wrote the book, music, and lyrics. She adapted the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice into a different kind of musical that weaves political commentary and romance into a backdrop of bluesy, emotionally driven music. Where most musicals strive to be fluffy and escapist, Hadestown embraces all the darkness inherent in its story. It's still very fun at times, but it aspires to more than sending you out of the theater with a song stuck in your head.

Not that it doesn't do that too. Mitchell worked on this musical for over a decade before it finally arrived in this form that won the Tony for Best Musical, and that long, hard work shows. From the tight three-part harmonies sung by the Fates, to the high falsetto of Orpheus, to the gravelly low bass of Hades, to a backing quintet that's deliberately supportive or abrasive at different times, there are a lot of styles at play here. But they all gel in a well-crafted whole.

In this touring production, the most thunderous applause went to the two lead performers, Morgan Siobhan Green as Eurydice and Chibueze Ihuoma as Orpheus. But I hope it takes nothing away from them to say that the real stand-outs in the cast were in the secondary roles. Kimberly Marable played a Persephone sometimes feisty and sometimes weary, but always relatable. Kevyn Morrow was a dangerous wicked Hades. And as Hermes, Levi Kreis infused his sort of "master of ceremonies" role with great sympathy and dignity.

Hadestown is in Denver for a few more days, so perhaps by posting this immediately -- the night after I saw it -- there's still a window for a couple of you reading this to score yourselves some tickets. I give it an A-.

Second of His Name

There have been all kinds of spin-offs throughout television history. It's perfectly acceptable to serve up a show that's just like the original but with new characters: look at franchises like CSI or Law and Order. (Or even Star Trek: The Next Generation.) The most celebrated spin-offs seem to strike a different tone from their originals: think along the lines of Cheers and Frasier, or Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul.

Through the first two weeks, it certainly seemed to me that House of the Dragon was setting out to be the first kind of spin-off. It appeared to be, first and foremost, "more Game of Thrones." Wherever a creative choice might have been made to put some separation between the two, instead the choice was made to prize continuity: we got the same music, the same sets, the same costumes. And to the degree it seems the audience was largely thirsting for "good old Game of Thrones," that was a fine choice.

After episode three, "Second of His Name," I'm beginning to suspect that House of the Dragon wants to be the second kind of spin-off after all. A grand fantasy epic for television has been done -- by Game of Thrones and many new entries to the field. And now I wonder if House of the Dragon is instead trying to be "The Crown, plus dragons."

I wrote about The Crown last year, but no short review can really capture my full experience watching it. Episode to episode, it was not unusual to find myself wondering if it was actually good, or if I was actually liking it. It was a slow burn drama, often "building" to nothing at all, in which the problems of the characters felt inaccessible at best, dull at worst. But The Crown also would serve up the occasional truly excellent episode to reward your faith in it. And all along, it featured an excellent cast from top to bottom.

House of the Dragon jumped two years in time with episode three. This followed a time jump of half a year or so between episodes one and two. This is The Crown's model, racing through decades of history to hit on only the most important moments in a generational story. Yes, the core question here seems to be "who will sit the Iron Throne?" But despite that also being one of the questions in Game of Thrones, the approach there was totally different. The odd flow of time was a major criticism of the final season -- the feeling that not as much time was passing explicitly as should be. House of the Dragon is being quite overt about telling us "these things take time."

Plus dragons, of course. This week's episode concluded with an extended battle sequence of mixed-to-good impact. There were a lot of good moments within the battle, though it ultimately couldn't carry that much weight when the opposing side had been so minimally developed over a few episodes. (And even the Targaryen side featured few characters we really know at this point.) But hey, visceral thrills to get your attention, if the slow burn royal family drama isn't doing it for you.

When I say "dragons," though, I don't mean just literally that; it's more a shorthand for "spending a lot of money on flashy visuals." This week also gave us a subplot about hunting a stag that culminated in two different CG animals featured front-and-center on screen. We also got a brief bit of action involving a wild boar... and that in particular was another strong contrast to Game of Thrones. Think back all the way to season one of that show. Robert Baratheon was fatally wounded by a boar, setting that whole story into motion. We didn't see any of that. Yes, that matched the way the story was told in Martin's original novel -- but in reality, Game of Thrones was not the kind of show that could afford to show such things that early in its run. House of the Dragon has a massive budget right out of the gate, and it's always going to put that money on the screen. (And, one assumes, kill off and/or recast its characters regularly enough to avoid spending too much of that budget on acting, as the mother show ultimately had to.)

So yes, House of the Dragon may aspire to be a staid drama about royal succession... but it's always going to dilute that with whiz-bang CG action. It surely needs to do that; the acting is the undeniable reason The Crown can get away with its slow pace and tone. The House of the Dragon cast, while fine, is certainly not at the same level of excellence. (Although, Matt Smith is in both casts.) Is it going to be good? Hard to say. Four seasons into The Crown, I can still only say, "it's good... I think."

This episode of House of the Dragon was good... I think. I'd give it a B. I might have chosen to mix a cocktail with more of this and less of that, but the show is still very much finding its way. With a second season now already confirmed, they should have all the room they need to do that.

What's Old Is New

If you're deep into the board game hobby, there's a handful of prolific and talented designers you may well know by name. Many people love Stefan Feld, Reiner Knizia, Michael Kiesling, Jamey Stegmaier, and others -- and can rattle off the titles of half a dozen of their games in a single breath. One name I don't hear very often, though (at least, among U.S. gamers) is Leo Colovini.

According to BoardGameGeek, Leo Colovini has literally 100 credits. (It could well be more by the time you read this.) Improbably, not a single one is ranked in the top 1000 games on the site -- which probably starts to explain why he's less well-known. Among his highest-rated games, however, are things like Cartagena (and its sequel), Carolus Magnus, and Clans.

To me, there's a clear throughline in those games: each has a deceptively simple rules set leading to compelling strategic decisions. I have yet to encounter a Leo Colovini game that takes more than 5 minutes to explain. Four players can then complete the game in under an hour. In my experience, designing a game like that -- and having it be intriguing to play -- is not easy. So seeing Leo Colovini's name on a game box immediately rouses my interest.

That's a long preamble, perhaps, but should explain why I took an interest in the new game Old London Bridge. I picked up a copy last month at GenCon, and while there was no rush for fear of it selling out, I was nonetheless as excited to be getting it as I was several other games that were the talk of the show.

Colovini shares credit on this game with another designer, Gabriele Bubola. Together, the two have created another game that meets all the criteria I mentioned above. It can be explained in 5 minutes or less (to experienced gamers, at least) and plays in under an hour. Most importantly, after playing a few turns, you realize that there are surprising nuances lurking within the system. It's a lighter game that doesn't feel like a lark.

Old London Bridge is played over 12 rounds. In each round, every player will draft one of six kinds of buildings to place in the next slot along a bridge in front of them. Buildings are numbered from 60 to 1, and must always be played in decreasing order... unless you play one of the numberless "parks," which reset the count for your placement next round. The simultaneous bid for draft order can be huge in getting the building you need.

But also at stake is the building you want. Different types of buildings trigger different actions when you place them -- and the strength of those actions depends on another symbol found on buildings: one of four different "shield" types divided among all building types. The more you draft of a particular shield, the stronger a building action can be... but the worse off you'll be if you're ever forced to trigger a building action using a different shield type. There might be a clear "best building" for you to draft this round... but if its number doesn't follow in decreasing order for your bridge, you'll have to remove and replace a prior building you placed (ultimately leaving an empty space on your bridge, which triggers its own scoring consequences at the end of the game).

Because Old London Bridge plays so fast, I've already had multiple opportunities to play it. While I can't say it's become an instant favorite in my collection, I would say that on a chart plotting "enjoyment" against "run time," the game would rate very highly. There is at least one big caveat to that: the game purports to be for 2-4 players, but I would actually discourage anyone from buying it as a 2-player game only. Much of what really makes the game work is the competition for a limited number of building options each round, and the 2-player game (despite a small rules "patch") really doesn't succeed in generating this tension. 3 players is quite fun, though, and 4 players best of all.

I'd give Old London Bridge a B+. And given the ease in getting it to the table, I suspect I'll soon get more plays in to tell me how that judgment holds or changes. If you're the sort of gamer who doesn't need each new addition to your collection to be the longest, or most convoluted, or most brain-burning, or most "loaded with unique components" game you own, it might be up your alley.

Voyager Flashback: Random Thoughts

The notion that violence in popular entertainment can be blamed for violence in real life is perennial, and was reportedly the fuel for the Star Trek: Voyager writers when they conceived of the episode "Random Thoughts."

While visiting the homeworld of the telepathic Mari, B'Elanna Torres is arrested for having a violent thought which spreads through the population, sparking violent action. Tuvok sets out to prove that she is not criminally responsible for the ensuing violence.

This episode is something of a mash-up of various things that Star Trek in general -- and Voyager in particular -- has done before. We've seen a main character arrested for violating an alien law, and facing an unthinkable punishment. We've explored the intensity of suppressed Vulcan emotion, and how dangerous Vulcan rage is when unleashed. We've seen B'Elanna forced to confront the hothead side of her dual nature.

Admittedly, this episode is repackaged sufficiently that it doesn't feel like a strict knock-off of any of those earlier episodes. But it isn't substantially better either. Part of that is the limited production resources allocated -- the city set is a recognizable reuse of a Star Trek staple, the alien uniforms are similarly recycled, and there's not even a new "alien forehead of the week." The montage of Tuvok's darkest thoughts is stuffed with recycled footage -- including some lifted from the then-new Paramount movie Event Horizon!

Still, if you can look past the trappings, there are some interesting ideas in the mix here. A literal thought police who records your mind during interrogation is a chilling concept. The idea that criminalizing something just forces it underground has many real-world parallels. The message that a lack of prisons itself does not make for a utopian society is an understated social commentary within the episode. Talk of containing a "viral thought" hits differently with a post-pandemic audience.

Yet the episode progresses too rapidly to take full advantage of other opportunities it brushes up against. What stops B'Elanna from having more violent thoughts when she's arrested and facing a draconian punishment? Why isn't there more urgency to returning everyone to the ship after B'Elanna's arrest -- and why doesn't that prospect provoke more dark thoughts from other crewmembers? Why does Neelix not seem remotely upset about the death of his new girlfriend? How exactly does proving that B'Elanna's thought was provoked by someone else exonerate her? (Say this was a drug deal; both the buyer and seller face criminal charges of different degrees.)

There might have been time to dip into some of that had precious screen time not been squandered ineffectively. Tom Paris is in a supposedly happy relationship now, so why should he take it hard to be told he used to be a ladies' man? As fun as it is for Seven of Nine to assume the voice of critical fans, chastising Janeway for stopping at every alien planet on the way home to Earth (you know -- creating a TV show to watch), is it really germane to the message here?

But then, there are some nice elements that did find screen time. It's a fun twist that the final showdown between Tuvok and the criminals is mental rather than physical. Nimira is an interesting guest character on many fronts: a police investigator who has never had to investigate a murder is a novelty for television, a character who starts off adversarial but winds up seeking help from Our Heroes is a Star Trek stalwart, and actor Gwynyth Walsh (best known to Trekkers as the Klingon B'Etor) gives a solid performance.

Other observations:

• One can understand B'Elanna's reluctance to engage in a mindmeld, given what happened the last time.
  

• Given how unused to violence these Mari are, and how strong a Vulcan is, I question if even three of the aliens could overpower and capture Tuvok.

• When Janeway talks about forcing dark thoughts into "back alleys," I could not help but think of recent U.S. developments in criminalizing abortion.

• At the end of the episode, when Janeway drinks from her teacup, you can see the real world manufacturing and copyright information printed on the bottom.
  

"Random Thoughts" is better than many of the Star Trek episodes it's most like, but still isn't exceptional. I give it a B.