Flying Colors

Flying Colors has developed an almost metaphysical connection to disasters. Every time I try to set it up with Ioannis Prodromos, something catastrophically bad happens in the middle of the game. This time, while the cannon fire had reached a fiery crescendo somewhere off Mount Athos and the Russians were trying to hold back the Turkish Orcs, the game was abruptly interrupted by force majeure—or, more specifically, a robbery. A very atmospheric table, I must admit, right up until reality decided to join in.

At its core, the game is exactly what it promises to people looking for a dicefest: the dice are the big stars, and the tension rises with every roll. The battle never sits still; cannons fire, things escalate, and luck has a very visible presence in how the conflict unfolds.

Interaction is direct, since the opposing sides are trying to stop one another within the conflict. This is not a game where you sit in isolation building your own little kingdom; you watch what the other player is doing, respond to the pressure, and hope the next burst of dice puts you ahead.

It is a shame I have not yet managed to finish it without some biblical calamity intervening. The next time it sees a table, I expect nuclear war—guaranteed. Even so, Flying Colors is a very honest game, provided you enjoy dicefests and have an evacuation plan.