I’ve posted the first game I designed, Satori, in complete print-and-playable format; it has a special place of honor in the sidebar. If you’re not in the habit of scanning the sidebar every day for changes (go figure), here’s the announcement.

Suggested and written up by reader Nevin; I have cleaned it up a little, but the ideas are his.

Synopsis: A hybrid of Coloretto and Ra, showcasing the fundamental idea of both: that different cards have different values to different players.

Setup: From a Ra set, remove all the gold, three floods, and one of each civilization tile. The suns are not used; the board is only used for the Ra track.

Play: As in Coloretto, there is one “row” of tiles for each player that can hold a maximum of three tiles. On your turn you may either pull a tile from the bag and add it to a row, or you may take one of the rows and be out of the round until all players have taken a row.

Gods only count for (2, as usual) points and cannot be used to take tiles as in Ra.

Disasters do not have their ordinary function and do not count against the “three tiles per row” limit. They count only after the third epoch, at which point each player scores -1 for having 1 disaster tile (of any kind), -3 for 2, -6 for 3, and so on.

If you pull a Ra tile, add it to the Ra track and draw another tile. If the Ra track fills up, as in Ra, the epoch ends immediately (players who haven’t taken a row yet are out of luck) and is scored exactly as in Ra. The game is over after the third epoch.

From the XKCD forums. Recast here for clarity and because I am not confident that the poster posted with enough clarity. I think I have the solution but, unlike most days, I am not 100% confident.

For those who are unfamiliar, Texas Hold’em is a particular kind of poker that has become very popular in recent years. Here’s how it works: A single deck is used. Each player gets two cards face-down. There is a round of betting. Three cards are flipped face-up, and there is another round of betting. Another face-up card, another round of betting, then a final face-up card, and a final round of betting. Everyone who is left makes their best 5-card poker hand from their own two hidden cards plus the five common cards on the table, and the best hand wins. You are under no obligation to use any cards from your own hand; if the board contains AKQJT of one suit, all players who have not folded will tie with a royal flush.

To simplify the problem, since betting is not relevant to this riddle: In Texas Hold’em, the goal is to make the best poker hand possible out of your two hidden cards plus five that are face up and common to everyone. High pairs, especially aces and kings, are regarded as excellent hands.
The riddle is this: One player has a pair of kings–a strong hand! Adding as few other players as possible, construct a setup where that player has no chance to win any of the pot. That is, no matter what 5 cards end up being common to all players, he cannot hope to even tie for the best hand.

I think I have the solution that requires 6 other players, which is what the poster alludes to.

I was introduced to a new game this weekend. It’s called Perudo, sometimes known as Liar’s Dice; you might know it as the dice game they’re playing in Pirates of the Caribbean 2. Evidently there are some other, somewhat more complicated rules that some people play by, but these rules are simple and fun. Try it. The strategy is surprisingly deep and like the Forehead Game, it plays better than it reads. It feels like a more strategic version of the Science Bowl-favorite card game BS.

Players: 2-8 or so, but 4-6 is probably best.

Equipment: Each player needs 5 6-sided dice and a small, opaque cup.

Play time: 20-30 minutes. With more than 6 players, you might want to reduce the starting dice to 4 for everyone to speed the game up.

Play: Choose at random a player to start. Then each player rolls the dice by shaking them in the cup and then turning the cup facedown on the table. The starting player names a number and a rank of dice, for example, “two fives.” This is a statement that the player thinks that between all the players’ collective dice, there are at least two fives. Ones are wild and count as everything.

The next player clockwise must make a similar call, but must increase either the rank of the dice at the same number (“two sixes”) or increase the number at any rank (“three twos.”)

If you bid ones, the bid counts as double in number. For instance, “three ones” can be called over “five sixes” and the next player needs to call at least “six twos.”

After any call, any player may accuse the caller of bluffing (say “lies,” “I doubt it,” “BS,” or somesuch.) When this happens, all players reveal all their dice, and determine whether the call was good (there were at least the called number of the given rank) or bad. If the call was good, the accuser loses a die. If the call was bad, the bluffer loses a die. Then all players reroll their dice and a new round begins, starting with the player who lost a die. Note that the number of dice available in the game steadily decreases as time goes on.

When a player has no dice remaining, that player is eliminated. The last player with any dice remaining is the winner.

Basic Strategy: Your calls don’t have to have anything to do with the dice you can see. As long as nobody is likely to bother accusing you, why give away information? Also, just because you think someone is probably bluffing is no reason to call them on it. Let someone else take that risk if they feel like it. The only reason you should accuse someone of bluffing is that you don’t expect to have a believable call to make on your next turn. Most often, you should probably be calling the person immediately counterclockwise to you, unless the second person back makes a call you believe to be very unlikely and you think the immediate person back has a chance of making a better call.

When it gets down to two players, the strategy gets weird and I don’t understand it very well yet.

Back in college, I got bored in class a lot. But I had to go, because listening to the professor drone on about his favorite inane thing was the only way to discern what parts of the irrelevant material would be covered on the test.

In most classes I wasn’t hostile enough to pull out a novel or NetHack on my laptop, so I quickly learned that anything you do with a pen and notebook looks like paying attention. As far as I know, the little diversion I present to you now, known only as “the number game” is my own invention.

Goal: Take the digits 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. Combine them in a mathematical expression to make as many numbers as possible, starting at 1 and working upwards.

Rules: All five digits must be used. The following operations are allowed: addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and exponentiation. You may parenthesize however you like to fix order of operations. Also, you may run digits together, but this operation must occur first. So, you can add 54 + 3 = 57, but you can’t combine (4 + 3)5 to get 75.

Starting at 1, the game is pretty easy until you get up to at least the 70s, but there are some tricky moments that will teach useful strategies. Here are some examples:

1 = 1²³⁴⁵

2 = 1³⁴⁵ * 2

7 = (3+4) * 1²⁵

76 = 25 * 3 + 1⁴

77 = 32 + 45 * 1

Note the incredibly useful technique of wasting your excess digits by taking 1 to some exponent. This works great unless you need to use 1 as part of another number! Once you can’t go any further—I suspect, but am not sure, that this will be in the 160 or 170 range—try adding the digit 6 as well. I recall getting up to 270-something before getting stumped there.

I only remember my dreams in two cases. First, if they’re terrible nightmares, and second, if I’m too hot. I wasn’t exactly feverish when I went to bed on Sunday—in fact, I was too cold, so I think I overdressed and overcovered for bed. I woke up a little less sick, and covered in sweat…

The point of all this is to share the game I was thinking about when I woke up. It’s a racing game… of sorts.

Title: Racing Fever, I guess.

Objective: OK, you watch it for the wrecks, but driving is all about the hot babes/dudes, right? Well, if I drove race cars, that’d be why, and you should too. To this end, you must acquire the most Fame.

Setup: You start with a small amount of money and a basic, unequipped car.

Core Mechanic: The game takes place in two phases. In the first phase, you bid or spend money on various kinds of upgrades. In the second phase, you race; winning races (or placing well) gives both Fame and money.

Phase 1: First, the next racetrack is revealed. (There might be a random selection of racetracks; or it might be assembled from different pieces.) This lets players choose the most advantageous upgrades for the next track.

Then, a series of potential upgrades are revealed, with varying costs. The costs are not directly linked to the power of the cards. Rather, they are assigned at random, and the player in last place gets the first pick. Players who are already doing well have to pay top dollar for whatever’s left, or just wait for the next turn.

Phase 2: The race itself. It takes place in sections of track. Some are benefited more by certain upgrades (straight track by engine upgrades, turns by tire upgrades, etc.) There may also be special one-shot upgrades that give you a greater benefit, but are used for only one race and used up. As the race goes on, players jockey for position—there’s some kind of die roll with a bonus based on the upgrades you have for that section. Being ahead in one leg gives you an advantage in the next, but only being ahead at the very end counts.

There’s another upgrade, Glamour, that provides no direct benefit in the race, but does give bonus Fame and money whether or not you win the race.

Duration: Probably a certain number of races, rather than a given Fame threshold.

I plan to finish prototyping Invasion first and I also have some plans this summer for some of my existing card games, but we’ll see if I can also get Racing Frenzy put together.

 Today, I present to you the rules for Two-Handed Euchre. It’s a fun, fast game for two people. The rules are similar to ordinary Euchre, but the play really isn’t. There’s more of an emphasis on tempo and remembering/guessing where the cards are. I find it to be a satisfying mix of strategy and luck.

Alatar beats the crap out of me at this game. I suspect he grasps the strategy at the deepest level that this game presents, and I’m missing something fundamental. I seem to be able to hold my own against most other people, though.

Deck: An ordinary Euchre deck, 9-A in every suit.

Deal: The deal alternates from round to round. Deal three cards face-down in front of each player; deal three cards face-up on top of those, and deal five cards for a hand. There should be two cards remaining. Reveal the top card as in ordinary Euchre.

Determining trump: First the dealer’s opponent, then the dealer has the opportunity to call the suit of the turned-up card as trump. If this happens, the dealer takes that card into his hand, sets a card from his hand facedown in its place, and the round begins.

If the dealer does not pick up the card, he turns it face-down, and his opponent has the opportunity to name any other suit as trump. If he does not, the dealer must name another suit as trump.

Play of the hand: Rank order is as in ordinary Euchre. Non-dealer leads to the first trick. Your hand is considered to be any cards in your hand, plus any that are face-up in front of you. If you play a face-up card that had a card below it, flip the face-down card up at the end of the trick. Obviously, these covered face-down cards do not count towards your obligation to follow suit. Thus, your hand changes as the turn wears on and new cards are added to your hand.

Scoring: When all 11 tricks are played, both players score one points for each trick captured. However, if the player to name the trump suit does not take at least 6 tricks, that player gets no points and his opponent gets 5 points for every trick short of 6. By contrast with regular Euchre, a pen and paper are required. Play for half an hour or so, or until whatever you were waiting for happens. Then total the scores (by crossing out the hands that cancel each other out, and adding the rest) and determine the final victor.

All right, the Forehead Game isn’t a game in the strictest sense—it’s more like a shared group activity. A parlor game, perhaps. That doesn’t stop it from being a hell of a lot of fun. I was introduced to another such game/activity this weekend, and now I’m all aflutter.

Telephone Pictionary

Players: Strangely enough, an odd number is best. 7 is perfect; 5 or 9 works OK, and 6 or 8 is manageable.

Materials: A blank sheet of paper and a pen/pencil for each player.

Setup: Everyone writes their name at the bottom right of a sheet of paper. Then on the top, write a phrase or sentence. Song lyrics, sayings, quotes, or random thoughts are all fine.

Play: After writing the sentence, each player passes the paper clockwise. Upon receiving the paper, each player draws the phrase or sentence as best as possible.

When finished, that player folds the paper so the original sentence cannot be seen—only the drawing. The paper is then passed to the right again, and the next player has to interpret the drawing as a sentence. That player then folds the paper so the drawing cannot be seen—only the new sentence—and passes it again. Repeat passing the paper, writing a sentence or drawing, and folding until the paper comes back to its originator. (With an even number of people, skip the last drawing.) Unfold the paper and be amused at how your sentence changed as it was interpreted and re-interpreted by your fellow players.

Strategy: There is no way to win or lose, of course. I’ve seen three ways of picking sentences, all legitimate:

1. Choose a phrase that’s pretty easy and see whether or not it can survive. For instance, “Raining cats and dogs” made it through unscathed. “Stop in the name of love” did all right too.

2. Choose a phrase that you know will be very hard and see what fundamental truth you get about the universe. “I’m afflicted; you’re addicted” came back to me as “Smoking kills.” “Every little thing she does is magic” returned as “All people, big and small, near and far, love the Fourth of July!”

3. Choose an incredibly complicated phrase and watch the mayhem. “The knife-wielding gundam flew to attack the gun-wielding gundam” returned to its creator as “Just like a Sicilian, bringing a knife to a gunfight.” (After only 5 players!)

Animals come up pretty regularly. My experience is that cats, dogs, monkeys, and maybe horses can make it through unscathed. Anything else is going to get misinterpreted somewhere along the line.

It was also brought to my attention that the game is also known as “Cat Eat Poop,” almost certainly because that phrase came up during someone’s session.

My gaming group got together and played Insinuation the other night.

The good: It’s a lot of fun, more fun than I remember Clue being. The game doesn’t suffer at all from the loss of the board. The little notepads they ship with the Clue are really inadequate for the serious note-taking that will really help you out. Blank paper and pens worked quite well.

The bad: The fun of the game didn’t suffer from the lack of a theme. However, the fact that the three categories of cards were completely indistinguishable caused havoc, to the point of making the game nearly unplayable. Exchanges of the form “Did you say the two of spades, three of hearts, and two of diamonds?” / “No, I asked for the three of spades, two of diamonds, three of hearts” were rampant. One misunderstanding of a request caused grave confusion (when a player realized several turns later that he did, in fact, have one of the cards he had been asked for) and I have a suspicion that another mishearing (or was it misspeaking?) cost another player the game on a wrong guess.

Clue, of course, doesn’t suffer from this problem at all. It’s impossible to mistake “Rope and Ballroom” for “Wrench and Library.”

The solution: Well, we obviously needed a theme. Late-night banter brought us to apocalyptic conspiracies, and the categories are now:

· Secret Societies (the NSA, the Illuminati, the Templars)

· Ancient Evils they’re trying to summon (Lucifer, Cthulu, Dracula)

· Locations (Atlantis, the Pyramids, Stonehenge)

“Fuleng,” as he’s calling himself in the comments, used Illustrator and the finest images Google Image Search could provide to print up some cards (so no, unfortunately, I can’t share them.) They’re hilarious and we’re going to try it again as soon as possible.

The only downsides are that you can’t just use an ordinary deck of playing cards, and that preprinted note sheets are again required. (Although everyone can remember the numbers 2-7, it’s necessary to have a cheat sheet so you’ll know which secret society you haven’t eliminated.) These, of course, are created with no problem.

The only other refinement I’m planning is to adjust the number of cards in the “long suit” before the game starts so that every player has the same number of cards to start.

We’re also considering a rule that if a player loses, his cards are dealt out to the other players (so he doesn’t have to sit around for the rest of the game). This strikes me as dubiously balanced, so we’ll see if it’s still necessary in the newly-themed variant.

Its name is Crackpot Theory, by the way.

Here are the rules for a game that I’ll dub Insinuation. It’s a lot like Clue. I’ve removed the lousy board-and-pawns element and stripped the theme away. Is the game still good without it? I’m not sure, actually. In the not-too-distant future I’ll talk about the importance of theme.

Equipment: From an ordinary deck of cards, use the 2-10 of spades, the 2-7 of hearts, and 2-7 of clubs. Each player will almost certainly need pen and paper.

Setup: Sort the cards by suit and shuffle each suit separately. Remove one card of each suit and set these three “mystery cards” aside. Then shuffle all remaining cards together and deal an equal number of them (or as close as possible) to each player.

Goal: The object of the game is to be the first player to deduce the identity of the mystery cards.

Play: Play proceeds counterclockwise. The first player who got one less card than the others goes first (choose randomly if they split evenly).

On each player’s turn, that player names one card from each of the three suits. The player on his left, if able, must secretly show the active player one of the named cards. (If that player has more than one, it is his choice which to show.) If that player has no such card, the next player to the left must reveal one if possible, and so on.

It is legal and often useful to name a card you hold in your own hand. Taking notes is encouraged and important.

Ending the Game: If you think you know the identity of the mystery cards, instead of taking an ordinary turn, you declare “I am solving the mystery,” and identify the three cards. Then you examine them. If you are right, you reveal them and win the game. If you are wrong, you state that you were incorrect. You lose the game and no longer take turns, but keep playing to show your cards to the other players on their turns.