Father Bill

Clinton Wolf

(With abject grovelings before a graven image of Lewis Carroll...)

A little lesson in the peculiarities of in-game morality to a newcomer of the hobby. As with most lessons that stick, one that is learned the hard way...

Now, for the next installment of this column, I think I may get away from poetry for awhile, at least poetry with multiple verses (this is harder than it looks, even if I'm blatantly ripping off the meter and structure from others! ). In my first poem "Juggernauty", I spoke of the power of poetry to sway minds and memories... I think the same can be applied to good prose. Let's face it, an ally who's witty and entertaining when he writes to you is someone that I at least would prefer to keep around longer than someone dry as a stereo manual.

The first installment of this, then, will be the art of amusing insults based on each of the countries of the Standard Game... a couple of examples: Gentle Ben: A disgustingly peacenik Russia. Kaiser Klink: A disturbingly incompetent Germany. Now, I put out the call... if you have any good ones you've made up or heard used in a game, e-mail me with them! I'll of course give you a credit if I use it (unless you want to remain anonymous). Hopefully I'll have a nice, comprehensive list of trash talk put together for next issue...

What was that? Oh, the poem! Yes, yes, here it is...

"You seem good, Father Bill," was the young man's tack,
"And you dine with your family each night;
And yet you incessantly stab in the back --
Do you think it is morally right?"

"In my life," Father Bill then replied to his son,

"I am moral and kind, that is plain;

But, when playing The Game and there's gains to be won,

Why, I do it again and again."

"You are good," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,"

"And our nations had grown strong and fat;

Yet you snapped up the win for your Hall of Fame score --

Pray, what was the reason for that?"

"At the start," said the sage, as he rubbed at his jaw,

"The alliance was good for us both;

But, to win is the goal - not to come to a draw -

And you left yourself open, in troth

"You seem good," said the youth, "and your face seems too kind

To be that of a vile betrayer;

Yet you strung me along with a devious mind -

And you struck when I hadn't a prayer..."

"In my youth", said his father, "I stabbed at the strong,

And was battered, as you might intuit;

So you must understand that a stab's only wrong

When your pal has the strength to live through it."

"You seem good," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose

That you had such a cunning demeanor;

I don't think that it's good that you sink to such lows -

Can't you play just a little bit cleaner?"

"Why of course!" said his father, "the next game we play,

I shall stick by your side, thick or thin!"

And of course, when it came to the end of the day,

He again stabbed his son for the win.

Clinton Wolf
(wolf@oxy.edu)

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