Buddy/Ignore List
Today, 03:41 AM
A hearty congratulations to Wynand of the Alchemists, who claimed victory with a terrific late-game surge and an impressive final total of 142,779. The closing turns saw the Alchemist rise with a potent blend of alchemy, sorcery, invention, and sheer momentum, ultimately claiming five regions and reshaping the world in dramatic fashion.
Thanks also to the five players who fought all the way to the end, and to the seven others who were part of the struggle before dropping or being eliminated along the way. It was a memorable contest with a lot of movement, tension, uncertainty, and shifting fortunes.
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From the mountain halls, Thane Brokk Ironmantle looked eastward and heard the echoes of a land utterly transformed. Where once there had been mystery and contest, there now rose the smoke and rhythm of an industrialized, thriving steampunk economy — a realm powerfully altered by clever alchemical innovation, strange technologies, and formidable wizardry. Though he grudgingly ceded the conflict to his unseen rival, the Thane took some comfort in the thought that this impressive sorcerer-inventor seemed not merely to conquer, but to elevate the people of the world through contraptions, craft, and magic.
Nor would the Thane forget the Elves. He had long measured dwarven strength against elven grace, and in this age the Elf proved a worthy and vexing rival — deftly outmaneuvering dwarven kind time and again with swift-moving magics, powerful diplomats, and prodigious wizardry. Dwarf and Elf, old rivals though they were, now faced a changed world together.
Perhaps, in the age to come, they would learn to work with the Alchemist. Perhaps, for a time, ancient rivalries could be set aside so that the world might heal from this hard-fought age of Alamaze.
Yet in the deep places beneath the mountains, where grudges are not forgotten and lessons are etched in iron and stone, Thane Brokk Ironmantle made another entry — and then another, and another still. By the end, fifty-seven new logs had been entered into the Grand Book of Grudges concerning the Ranger and his astonishing use of allies from the diverse tribes of man.
The Thane had seen many commanders in war, but he mused that the Ranger may have been the greatest general he had ever faced. The alliance between the Paladins — the Ranger’s foremost troop — and the Ranger’s own coordinated attacks in the field revealed a level of tactical genius that even dwarfkind, slow to praise and slower still to forget, could not deny.
So it was that the Dwarves gave this brilliant foe a name in their own halls: Kazrak Manystandard, the General of Many Banners.
This Ranger did not merely move armies. He wove them. Men of different tribes, oaths, and callings struck as one beneath his command. His attacks came not as scattered blows, but as the measured hammerfalls of a master smith. Against such a rival, even a proud Dwarven Thane could only nod grimly and mark the lesson well.
And then there were the Cimmerians.
Of all the peoples who endured the long twilight of this age, the Thane found himself especially moved by their plucky, resourceful defiance. The Cimmerians outlasted the rise of a hidden power rife with assassins and destructive magic, surviving war against the shadow through stubbornness, cunning, and a refusal to yield when lesser peoples might have vanished into memory.
They fought to the end.
For that, the Cimmerian people have earned a place among the Dwarven hearths. Should they need shelter in the hard winters to come, they shall find stone roofs above them. Should they need food, the mountain stores shall open. Should they need friendship, the Dwarves will remember.
Like stone, they have shown they endure.
So ends this age: with an Alchemist victorious, an Elf respected, a Ranger feared and admired, and the Cimmerians honored for their resilience. The grudges remain, of course — no proper dwarf would claim otherwise — but so too does respect. And perhaps, in the strange peace that follows, old rivals may find new purpose in rebuilding the world they so fiercely contested.
Well played, Wynand — and well played to everyone who helped make this such a great game.
Out of character, I also want to say that this game has been an incredible experience for me as a player. I feel like I made a quantum leap in my understanding of the big ideas of Alamaze: positioning, timing, diplomacy, kingdom identity, tempo, risk, and the sheer importance of long-term planning. I came away with a much deeper appreciation for the excellent decision space Alamaze offers. There were meaningful choices everywhere, and the game constantly rewarded both strategic thought and adaptation.
Thanks again to everyone involved and the administrative and developer team that makes this game possible. This was a fantastic game to be part of.
Thanks also to the five players who fought all the way to the end, and to the seven others who were part of the struggle before dropping or being eliminated along the way. It was a memorable contest with a lot of movement, tension, uncertainty, and shifting fortunes.
-----
From the mountain halls, Thane Brokk Ironmantle looked eastward and heard the echoes of a land utterly transformed. Where once there had been mystery and contest, there now rose the smoke and rhythm of an industrialized, thriving steampunk economy — a realm powerfully altered by clever alchemical innovation, strange technologies, and formidable wizardry. Though he grudgingly ceded the conflict to his unseen rival, the Thane took some comfort in the thought that this impressive sorcerer-inventor seemed not merely to conquer, but to elevate the people of the world through contraptions, craft, and magic.
Nor would the Thane forget the Elves. He had long measured dwarven strength against elven grace, and in this age the Elf proved a worthy and vexing rival — deftly outmaneuvering dwarven kind time and again with swift-moving magics, powerful diplomats, and prodigious wizardry. Dwarf and Elf, old rivals though they were, now faced a changed world together.
Perhaps, in the age to come, they would learn to work with the Alchemist. Perhaps, for a time, ancient rivalries could be set aside so that the world might heal from this hard-fought age of Alamaze.
Yet in the deep places beneath the mountains, where grudges are not forgotten and lessons are etched in iron and stone, Thane Brokk Ironmantle made another entry — and then another, and another still. By the end, fifty-seven new logs had been entered into the Grand Book of Grudges concerning the Ranger and his astonishing use of allies from the diverse tribes of man.
The Thane had seen many commanders in war, but he mused that the Ranger may have been the greatest general he had ever faced. The alliance between the Paladins — the Ranger’s foremost troop — and the Ranger’s own coordinated attacks in the field revealed a level of tactical genius that even dwarfkind, slow to praise and slower still to forget, could not deny.
So it was that the Dwarves gave this brilliant foe a name in their own halls: Kazrak Manystandard, the General of Many Banners.
This Ranger did not merely move armies. He wove them. Men of different tribes, oaths, and callings struck as one beneath his command. His attacks came not as scattered blows, but as the measured hammerfalls of a master smith. Against such a rival, even a proud Dwarven Thane could only nod grimly and mark the lesson well.
And then there were the Cimmerians.
Of all the peoples who endured the long twilight of this age, the Thane found himself especially moved by their plucky, resourceful defiance. The Cimmerians outlasted the rise of a hidden power rife with assassins and destructive magic, surviving war against the shadow through stubbornness, cunning, and a refusal to yield when lesser peoples might have vanished into memory.
They fought to the end.
For that, the Cimmerian people have earned a place among the Dwarven hearths. Should they need shelter in the hard winters to come, they shall find stone roofs above them. Should they need food, the mountain stores shall open. Should they need friendship, the Dwarves will remember.
Like stone, they have shown they endure.
So ends this age: with an Alchemist victorious, an Elf respected, a Ranger feared and admired, and the Cimmerians honored for their resilience. The grudges remain, of course — no proper dwarf would claim otherwise — but so too does respect. And perhaps, in the strange peace that follows, old rivals may find new purpose in rebuilding the world they so fiercely contested.
Well played, Wynand — and well played to everyone who helped make this such a great game.
Out of character, I also want to say that this game has been an incredible experience for me as a player. I feel like I made a quantum leap in my understanding of the big ideas of Alamaze: positioning, timing, diplomacy, kingdom identity, tempo, risk, and the sheer importance of long-term planning. I came away with a much deeper appreciation for the excellent decision space Alamaze offers. There were meaningful choices everywhere, and the game constantly rewarded both strategic thought and adaptation.
Thanks again to everyone involved and the administrative and developer team that makes this game possible. This was a fantastic game to be part of.
