Imperial 2030

We had played the previous Friday too, so I came into Imperial 2030 with my earlier crushing defeat still fresh: vile QQjitsu, backstabbing, and the one true wisdom of sensei Laurence echoing in my head. This time I arrived determined not to give anything away—and thankfully, because there was no mercy anywhere at the table.

The game remained close until the final rounds. I am not going to sell you a detached systems analysis: what stayed with me was the tension of a contest in which nothing was decided early and every move carried its weight right to the end.

The interaction, though, was the whole point. The earlier lesson in QQjitsu and stabs in the back had already set the tone, while in the finale the Brazil–Russia pairing provided the answer and justice, at last, prevailed. It was one of those games that leaves you wanting another one immediately—maybe I will even play it World Cup-style.

Somewhere around then the sporting activities stopped, even though the group could have handled another game, and the traditional political catfight began. Since nobody was in a hurry to go home, the trolling lasted until four in the morning. The next day found us with the coffee maker in overdrive, emptying some Bacardi bottles and, after a morning ploots, setting up something for six; Sidereal Confluence had been left at home, but thankfully there was a Plan B. After a night like that, Imperial 2030 had already done its job.