I flew into Milwaukee the morning of Thursday. The airplane was filled with the stench of unwashed roleplayers. I knew from the moment the plane took off that this was the road to Gencon.

I'd had some trepidation over going to this con; with only four days to go, the person with whom I was set to stay ditched out on the con entirely and cancelled the hotel room we were splitting. This left me in a bit of a bind; was I to stay home and waste my non-refundable plane ticket or should I throw everything to chance and possibly end up without a place to sleep.

Luckily for me, Detroit's own armada king Lee Sneathen helped me out. He managed to wrangle me a place to crash for three nights, which really was cool of him.

It turns out to be amazingly easy to get from the airport to the convention in Milwaukee. Just follow the other gamers.

I'd heard that this was a big convention, but I was ill prepared for the sheer volume of fen who filled every vacant space at the convention centre.

The Thursday was spent playing sealed deck tournaments, LotR I went 4 and one. In STCCG sealed, I was undefeated (did you expect otherwise?) On Friday I played LotR continentals and was used as a prison bitch by LotR players more competent than I.

I think there are basically four lessons to be learned from this year's Gencon. The first is that if you are going to a con, don't let any creepy ex-girlfrinds know that you will be there. The second is that predictability kills.

I went to Gencon based on the fact that I had qualified for the second day of continentals-- a qualification that as it turned out was meaningless; the top eleven from the day one open qualified as there was no one else there.

I went in with the deck that I have played on and off for most of the last two years based on the fact that I knew it well, that I understood how to play it well and I knew that it was a good deck. The problem is that everyone else knew about the deck too. My friend Lee played the armada deck that he is well known for, and it served him well up to a point; everyone knew his deck and was prepared. He came in third based on the fact that the top two had known about his deck and knew that he would be there.

The first round of day two continentals drove home this point to me. I played a fellow by the name of Nat Kirkton. He's a twenty something oriental fellow from Minnesota. He's quiet and polite and rather a joy to play against even when you loose.

He knew who I was from hearing my name bandied about online, likewise I had heard of him... The difference was that I had never heard of what he would be playing. He went first, and having heard about my obsession with Ooby Dooby, spotted where I had seeded the dilemma and tripped it himself.

The point here is that his foreknowledge of my deck was fatal. The game almost went to time, while I flopped around the spaceline solving one mission and he handily towed around my scows and won.

I was thus bumped down to playing against easier opponents. I wish I could say that I had fun those games, but I didn't. Really, it was too easy and I've played the deck to death. This is where lesson two comes in… I guess I'll call this one “Olav's Third Law…” Always play a deck that you will enjoy playing.

Basically if you play a deck you aren't enjoying, then there's no point to playing a game. You won't enjoy the experience, your opponent will not have fun, and in a tournament like continentals, you will not have the mental presence, the engagement to think on your feet, to play well or to plan things out. The third game of the tourney I timed out due to poor planning on my part, and stupid, unthinking slow play on my part.

The upside of this was that I had the privilege to play Lee Sneathen in round four.  Realistically I had no business playing him, but due to the mysteries of Decipher pairing and the fact that he had played most of the people who should play him, Lee got to play me.
 

I wish that I could say that I played well. I wish that I could say I played adequately. I wish I could say that my deck had a snowflakes chance in hell against Lee. But I didn't and it doesn't.

Instead of playing well, I got outseeded, outclassed and outgunned. But I had tech against Lee. I told him “Under no circumstances will you destroy my outpost”

He said “Yea I will!”

I said “No you won't”

He said “Yea I will”

I wish that I could tell you that we exchanged witty banter. I wish that I could tell you that I didn't behave like an idiot. I wish that I could say that the conversation was anything other than asinine. But I can't so I won't.

I said “No you won't”

I then played a Beyond the Subatomic and said “Time location”

Lee and I were laughing like imbeciles at this point.  Or really, I was laughing like an imbicile and Lee was telling me that he hates me.

I got to say, I was in a better mood after that game.

I won my fifth round with a timed win.

In the sixth round I played Alexander XXX, I wasn't really into the game so I threw all my people into mission attempts, and lost to the dilemma "God"

A gang of us, composed of the Jeff Thomas Fan Club, David Bowling, Lee Sneathen and I went to a jazz club called the Velvet Room after the tourney for drinks. If you are ever in Milwaukee, I heartily suggest hat you check it out. It's a really decent joint.

What was the fourth lesson at Gencon? I guess I have to keep that one secret. I can't give away everything here, now can I?

--Olav Rokne