Cascadia Solo: I Thought I Was a Thrice-Ascended EcoArchitect, But I Cheated

Moments after publishing this post, I finally spotted the reason why I was able to rack up such an obscene score: I took too many turns. There are 26 animals placed here. So, regarding the text that follows: It’s all erroneous. I forge on humbled, still in pursuit of an Ascended 110+ score.

What do I do with this game now? Frame it? File it away? I’d been chasing the 110+ “Ascended” solo score ranking of Cascadia all summer, notching 100+ games regularly. A 110+ score seemed like it required a subtle extra layer of calculation I just didn’t have.

Then this. I gasped when I totaled the top half of the sheet. 93 points. I checked it again. And again:

• Bears (Card C, Families): 18
• Elk (Card B, Formations): 15
• Salmon (Card C, Families): 10
• Hawks (Card D, Territorial): 25
• Foxes (Card D, Dynamic Duos): 25

I didn’t realize I’d hit the Bear Families bonus until my next to last move, but I had focused on building diverse axes of animals that I could bookend with Territorial hawk pairs. In the back half of the game, owing to the vagaries of the draw, I did something else I usually don’t do: Went for a third pair of foxes, which turned out to be massive.

Add 40 points of terrain/nature token leftovers and I think that’s 133 — 20+ points in excess of any of my best-ever games up to that point and a mark I don’t imagine I’ll hit ever again. So I quadruple-checked the score. Took a pic, swept my eyes around the room to note the jarring gulf between what just happened on this table and the oblivion of the remaining day, then packed it up.

What a morning. What a game.

Vale of Eternity, Wingspan, Cascadia: The Games of Summer

I acquire, learn and play slowly, so this doesn’t happen often: My play-pace over the last six weeks has totally outstripped my ability to makes sense of it on a microphone. Notes/initial impressions on new acquisitions here; look for a deeper dive in upcoming episodes.

The titular Eternity, a dragon who simply presides for the ‘Gram

Vale of Eternity
Buying a game with no solo mode is a major act of optimism for Breakup Gaming Society (me). I was rewarded by having something like seven different people join me for games, from hardcore M:TGers to casuals. They all loved it. One of them had his own copy the next time I saw him.

I’ve seen a few breathless reviews (unmerited) and a lot dismissal in comment threads (misguided). It’s a good game, as much for its timing in my life as anything.

See, now that’s just lovely

Wingspan
Another purchase where I went against my usual instincts in the name of game shelf biodiversity. It’s every bit as beautiful to see and touch as they say it is. I foundered in the three rulebooks and programmed instruction. I just could not picture how a turn worked. (Liz Davidson solved that. Thanks, Liz.) But I’ve got a solo game under my belt and will try it again, hopefully with others. But that’s low-priority because…

This is what the fuck I’m talking about right here

Cascadia
This game is my new girlfriend. I’ve played solo and against two other folks, each time appreciating the growing contrast between the ludicrously simply play steps and the colorful, crunchy puzzle you find yourself in about a third of the way through. (“Oh, this is nice…fuck. How do I keep the bears happy and find somewhere for this contentious hawk. Oh, my.”) Interpreting the variable scoring patterns of the animal’s five species is producing more moments of confusion than I would like, busting the flow. But I’m going to put up with that and figure it out because I woke up this morning thinking about playing this. Which I’m going to do now. Fuck blogging.