Chương 255: Chapter 485:

Milo observed that number Twelve had made three major mistakes: The first was informing his two opponents not only of the existence of updates to the rules, but where they were located, but not in time for them to read them. It wouldn't help them much this game, but the next game would be a different story. If there was a next game... Milo gave even odds of the little snail having a breakdown after this game. Pulling a move like that might work on the other snails, but not on these two.

It signaled that this was not a friendly game. The second mistake was gloating early, before he'd actually won the game. His final error was taunting Butch and Min and making it personal. The two of them were as competitive as any of the alphabet, maybe more so, and they loved to go head to head against each other. But not when an outsider attacked both of them. Milo expected that they would coordinate, carve up number Twelve's growing empire, and then fight it out for 1st and 2nd once the snail was off the board.

Butch started out by relaxing and slumping a bit in his chair, his voice taking on the deep southern drawl of Brazos Bill from Texas Deathmatch Derby.

"Well now, guess I'll just have to hang back a bit and see if I can't nudge myself into second place, seeing as how this race already has a winner." Bill was a bruiser in the game, driving a nitro powered Ford truck so battered no one knew what year it had been made or the original paint job. He had no hesitation to ram someone who tried to pass him or to engineer a twelve-car pileup that ended the race. Anyone in first place would eventually lap him and then have to deal with Bill and his temper.

It was a potent hint to Milo of how he intended to play today. Min nodded enthusiastically, her voice going higher as she giggled and mimicked Nacogdoches Sally, Bill's little sister. Sally preferred an open-top pink Camaro with a glittery paintjob as bright as a flock of flamingos. She specialized in small, very dirty tricks that might or might not have happened prior to the race even starting.

They were always each others worst enemy in the game, and if playing solo, it was best to try and get them fighting with each other. When they got cooperative, it was bad for everyone on the track or in the stands.

"I'm just happy I get to play a game. Thanks so much for teaching me, smart-snail. You're today's hero! Yes you are." Number Twelve pushed himself up a little taller and his eye stocks waved excitedly.

"You both have excellent attitudes in the face of certain defeat. This will be a very enjoyable game all around, and I will even give a small critique at the end of your playstyles." Milo was scanning the rulebook as quickly as he could, doing a quick read through as he simultaneously pondered his next step to understand what Thirteen had been working on.

Flipping back and forth to understand the frankly confusing and often contradictory rules which had to be decided by the players according to the positions they held in the game or had control of. It was worse than sifting through the maze of local/city/state and federal government regulations that governed fusion reactors. He paused, and something clicked in his head. He began reading the rules again, using all of his minds at once, taking a second copy of the rulebook that had come with update #37.

Then a third rulebook held with his tail, this one updated for the changes through Update # 122. He was rapidly dissecting and re-dissecting the rules as Algernon and Onyx came into the room, pushing a cart pile high with updates. They looked at Milo, lost in his research and nodded to each other.

"Definitely a good game if he's devouring the rules at that pace."

"He's already worried about winning the next game, and those three are just starting round two."

"You organize the updates, I'll give Nina, Zander and Bork a heads up about what's going on. I think I sense a late night gaming session forming." Onyx looked at the body language displayed by Butch and Min.

"Let's include everyone. Especially Belinda, these two, and the rest of their group. Butch and Min are out for blood and I am very intrigued at the idea of a twelve person boardgame of this size and complexity. Especially with the interest our brother, Milo, is taking in it. And let's make sure we have all the updates organized correctly. This game looks like it takes a lot of research and keeping up to date."

"Oh, you think there will be rules disputes? I can guarantee that. I'll start some myself just to see people struggle with the section on how to handle rules disputes." As the two went about their work, Butch and Min began theirs. The basic tactic was misdirection. When it was Butch's turn, Min fawned and smiled at the snail, asking simple questions and praising his answers as he haughtily explained obvious things about how the game worked. When it was Min's turn, Butch would do something similar.

When it was the snail's turn, they argued back and forth, ranting at each other.

"Oooh. That was clever. You have a factory now? That's good, right?" Twelve turned both eyestalks in her direction.

"Yes. Very good. Game breaking, in fact. You see, the open resource pile can be rich or poor as the game opens, and three tiles are revealed per player in the game. Purchasing of open resource tiles is normally prohibited by a lack of funds, but by ceding my draw phase of random tiles, I was able to acquire it. Do you see the tile marked 'extra-small-factory'? You may be able to afford that soon, but it has limited uses, none of which make money like my massive chemical factory will.

Although, it would give you an opportunity to tag along behind me if you manufacture a product I need or that is compatible with my products."

"Wow, that's so cool." Butch at this point had taken his three random tiles from the stack, looked at them, and discarded one to the open resource pile.

"I may have figured this shindig out. Not my first time going to a fancy rodeo. Just have to pick the right horse, and I think I found one. I'm putting this fella into play, along with a couple from my hand." As Min began her turn, Twelve scanned the tiles trying to figure out what Butch was doing." Small meeting Hall. Mercantile License for one type of product. And a license to produce Class 10 chemical substances on your premises. Congratulations. Are you going to sell worthless balms for sore muscles?"

"Nope. Guess again."

"Blister cream?"

"Nope, but you have the right idea. I will be selling a product that brings relief from the days woes." Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Food Sticks? Mushroom smoothies? Or some other barely profitable nutritional substance." Butch grinned, "Yes, a nutritional substance called 'Beer' but I would hardly call it unprofitable. Not when people are miserable and overworked." Twelve was unimpressed, not knowing what beer was. Meanwhile, Min displayed her tiles, then clapped her hands and giggle.

"Thanks Mr. Smartsnail, I took your advice. I'm getting the Extra-Small-Factory, and I got really lucky and randomly pulled a Master Glass Blower. My other tile, Limited Privative Resources will let me purchase all the sand and charcoal I need to start making glassware." Butch looked at the tiles, noting how well they fit together.

"Good, I'll need beer mugs, you can make those." She glared at him, "Nope. Because you'll use the money to try and get ahead of me. First place is decided, it's me against you now, and I'm not coming in last. I'll make beakers, test tubes, and anything else Mr. Smartsnail needs. He'll pay real money, not the pennies you have." Butch shook his fist at her.

"You haven't heard the last of me! Min!" Then he turned to the snail.

"I'd warn you about that one, but a smart snail like you has probably already figured out that she plans to make all of her money selling to you. I'll laugh when she realizes you can just drop your buy price. Pretty smart move on your part." Twelve preened under the praise.

"Exactly. I am happy that you saw the rudimentary strategy I'll use to keep her in line. But you will have to do more than make a small profit selling medicinal hops potions to beat her." Butch looked worriedly at Min, then confided in the snail, "I'm counting on your help for that. See, the higher the Disgruntlement Index for the workers in this section goes, the more money I make. And, a steady supply of medicinal hops potions will increase the moral of the workers.

This means you can get a bit more out of your factory workers, and then I'll make money making them feel better and send them back to you. We both make money. Well, you make the most, but that was already going to happen. I'm playing for second, after all." Twelve looked again at Butch's tokens, seeing the connection.

"Indeed. And that is a sound strategy for someone playing a support role. I will remember this in future games, and may allow you to aid me with this simple strategy that I will help you improve upon." Butch grinned, "That's just dandy, Mr. Snail. Me and my little bar are looking forward to doing business with you." Three hours later, the snail was waving his eyestalks and screaming in a high-pitched voice.

Min was moving workers into the burning chemical factory, equipped with armfuls of beakers filled with flame suppressant chemicals. She'd been making them at a loss for six turns, and storing them in case an Insurrection or Slave Rebellion tile appeared. They hadn't, but Butch had played a Worker Revolt tile and the snail's workforce had instantly begun breaking things in his factory and demanding the back pay he owed them.

"NO NO NO! I protest! Someone is cheating!" Butch leaned back in his seat, grinning, "Now, I'm sure you understand that no one cheats at Blothopoly, or at least, doesn't get caught cheating. Wasn't that what you told us?" Min glared at ex-snail-buddy, "Cheat? Do you have proof of that? A witness? A shred of evidence to back up such a foul and outlandish accusation? Didn't think so!" Twelve looked from one to the other.

"No, but this is outrageous! How did this happen?" Butch grinned, "Oh, that we can tell you. I may have encouraged you to crank up production, and keep your workers going double shifts. But two turns ago, I switch from selling medicinal hops beverages, to semi-medicinal beverages made from fermented potatoes and sewer weed. It drops the Disgruntlement Factor for a limited time, but slowly increases the base.

Makes workers mean and angry in the morning, and your latest cut in wages was just a little too much for them to deal with. All it took was playing my Minor Worker Revolt to set things off. My bar will take some damage, but not like you will."

"But... but... the fires?" Min pointed to some of her tiles, "See, I invested heavily in making glass bottles for you, but you've been forcing me to sell for less and less, and cutting your orders to force me to agree. I had all these extra bottles sitting around." Butch said, "And I made too much Sewer Vodka, and had to put it somewhere."

"I loaned Butch a thousand bottles, but didn't have corks."

"I had to use cloth to seal them up. Then stupidly left them sitting outside the bar. But I did put a Warning Label on them which absolves me from all harm and accusations. Plus, the items were stolen by your workforce. I'll be sending you a bill." Min pounded the table with her large fist, making tiles and number Twelve bounce in the air.

"And I need payment for all the Fire Retardant Potions." Twelve glared at them.

"I won't pay. You can't make me pay. I will... I will IGNORE you! There, take that." Butch sighed, "You leave me no choice." He pushed forward two tokens. Property Lien and Lawyer.

"I'll see you in court." Min played her tiles, "I'll deal with you now. Let's see how you like Advanced Looters, and Salvage from the Ruins. I won't get the stuff, but the new pawn shop down the street will do a huge business today." Twelve screamed at her.

"That is yours! You planned this!" He looked from one of them to the other, then his eyestalks crossed as he glared at both of them. Min looked in the air, "Not talking to you. You ignored me." Butch did the same. The snail tried to count up the points he had left on the board, but quickly slumped to the table.

"Lost again. I have never won a game of Blothopoly. Beaten by two neophytes. I will give up and never play again." Min picked him up, moved him over to her, and patted his shell lightly.

"Ah, don't take it so hard. How about you be my rules advisor for the next game." One eyestalk rose up and looked at her.

"Next game?" Min pointed to a crowd of people in the room, "They've been waiting for us to finish."

"If I accept, may I be obnoxious and annoy people to distract them?" Min nodded.

"I'm counting on it. Strategy might not be your strong point, but you can Troll with the best of them."