Resist! Replays: An Evening with Guinness and the Spanish Resistance

Have you ever suspected that the true purpose of a vacation is to simply remind you of how good it is to be home, even if home is a snarl of repairs beyond your ability to cope?

I walk in after a day of packing, driving, errands, driving some more and are reminded of the scent of my place. It’s not so bad, but I left stuff strewn everywhere before heading for Denver and it’s simply time to crack that Guinness, work the wrap off the neck of the Basil Hayden bottle, straighten up a bit, and not worry about tomorrow’s high-interest demands on the soul.

I love a stout on a cool evening. It’s a counterintuitive play on the surface: You ingest something cold and midnight black that brings a bit of blood to the skin, as if your body is finding equilibrium with cold and has made a friend of the night. Like at atmospheric protection suit that unfolds from inside you. The suit performs even better when you back up a sip of the stout with a nip of Basil Hayden here and there.

I haven’t had a drink outside of a Michelob Ultra in two months, so I’m getting reacquainted with all kinds of old smells and tastes: I’d forgotten that even Guinness had layers to it and how beguilingly soft Basil Hayden was on its approach. Together, they’re a triumph of both contrasting and complementary colors and textures.

The hematoma I got in the hotel shower my last day in Denver hurts less, although I’m still discombobulated from the driving in that city. I was constantly trying to square the overlay of memories from all its neighborhoods I knew with the rude jutting-out of new developments that erupted…in between them? Over the top? I couldn’t tell sometimes. The crawl of taillights is still burned on my retinas, like I’m half-caught in a spectral afterlife where everybody is waiting to turn left.

AC/DC’s “Whole Lotta Rosie” pops up the speakers, then some Rival Consoles. It all feels dovetailed by a fine carpenter. I decide to take a few more runs at Resist!, which I featured in Episode 101. Quick refresher: It’s a solo card game where you have to manage a roster of Spanish guerrillas — or maquis — who are trying to topple General Franco after WWII against frightful odds.

I’ve played dozens of games since that episode. I’m proud to say I’ve achieved basic operational confidence. I ironed out a handful of minor edge cases that slowed play, but the process of picking maquis, analyzing their abilities and picking the right mission continually turned my brain into a brown, wet tangle. For most of these plays I’ve been on that rookie plateau where I’m getting draws or straight-out losing from being reckless. I needed some kind of heuristic for not stalling out on this important step.

But I had a breakthrough last week. Out of nowhere, I got the second-highest rated win: a Major Victory. My deck drafting strategy had paid off: I’d focused mostly on two kinds of recruits: maquis who had high attack value while hidden and maquis who could stir or manipulate the deck with their Hidden ability. 

My simple draft formula:
• Prioritize maquis who had a 2 attack value in Hidden Mode
• Of the others, try to get a 1:1 mix of maquis who can scout and those who can manipulate the hand/deck in some way
• Always pass on Abel and Adela for the starting crew, they feel too specialized for the opening game

Check the trophy case: My maquis went ham and knocked down a ton of missions after weeks of getting my ass kicked by this game

The idea was to be able to take down the first couple missions without having to use any of my crew’s powerful Revealed abilities. Using these abilities can save you from mission failure. Using them also exposes their identities to Franco’s men and removes them from your deck, starting the desperate downward slide that shrinks and shrinks your pool of operatives as the missions get harder. Good solo games always create scarcity, but watching these endearing cartoon insurgents dribble out of play is one of the most anxious flavors of “not enough” that I’ve felt in a long time.

Instrumental to this rare win was the bookish Roberto, who attacks for two while remaining hidden on a mission and can weed tough units out of the enemy deck so that the defending garrisons are weakened on future missions. I haven’t been able to duplicate it since with the same drafting strategy, but it was still thrilling, like stepping onto a tennis court and, out of nowhere, just thrashing the highest-rated player at the club.

Now that I’m over the shame of feeling morally inadequate for playing a game about resistance in an era where there’s not enough of it, I’m fully into the very tough puzzle that Resist! gives you. As far as theme and mechanics go, the futility of the post-Spanish Civil War resistance hits you full in the face as you try to reason your way through which gambles to take as you scramble up a jagged, freezing ridge called Not Enough.

But it feels like there’s enough tonight. I return to the table late in the game after some more straightening and find that I’ve bashed my way through a pretty impressive run of missions and there are only two missions left. 

My maquis have executed a successful border crossing, seized a farmhouse, destroyed a supply convoy, kidnapped a key officer, stolen supplies from a train depot, knocked out a bunker, and even attacked Franco’s headquarters. I bet that was a tasty pre-dawn surprise for him. I use the game option to end the Resistance, as I suspect the next draw will be clogged with Franco’s spies and the mission will fail.

I leave the second goblet of Guinness I poured on the counter untouched. This all feels like enough for the night. 

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May I send you a custom cocktail booklet and this handsome frog?