Star Wars: Outer Rim Solo Session (Han Upgrades to the Confetti-and-Bicycle-Horn Cannon)

This is adapted from the script of Episode 97, “Sykes-Picot Plays With Colonial History (And Dry-Erase Markers)”

Despite being buzzed and rusty with the rulebook, I played most of a game as Han Solo, racing for fame against an automa-operated version of Lando Calrissean. I had my first decent stack of credits in the stashbox of my stubby, entry-level starfighter when I got a chance to buy an Aggressor-Class Assault fighter.

They wouldn’t let Han test-fly it because he was drunk, but when he woke the following morning after having passed out on one of its nacelles, the path forward was clear: He no longer had to worry about bounties or cargo or any of that bullshit. He didn’t even have to talk very much to the one crew member he acquired — a sullen Black Sun agent whose mealtime noises were simply distressing.

He had just become a ship-to-ship hunter. Any job that featured this kind of combat was the one he wanted. And if those gigs were scarce, he could just start turning his guns on any of the four NPC factions’ patrol craft.

Star Wars Outer Rim Solo Mode: Shit got serious and I had to break out the Rules Ladder

Which he did. Han cleaned out all the Hutt, Syndicate, and Imperial Level 1 patrols on his side of the board, unconcerned with the reputation loss; as long as he avoided planetside entanglements, he was in his lane and keeping pace with Calrissean, who skimmed planet to planet glibly dropping off cargo and buying points on the fame track like the two-faced degenerate he was. With the guns on that fighter, I could keep pace and simplify the game immensely.

Han picked up some Photon Torpedoes along the way, increasing both the amount of combat die he got to roll and the Fame he’d get for making a kill. He quickly upgraded his bird to the IG-2000 version, which had a Long Range Ion Cannon. With this toy, he could smoke patrols without incurring reputational loss, which generated a chuckle or two: Ambush a Syndicate pilot then brazenly land on a nearby planet under Syndicate control for gas. Listen to the heavily armed port boss mutter about somebody taking out their patrols.

HAN SOLO: Really? Gosh, that’s terrible!

PORT BOSS: Say, are those Long-Range Ion Cannons on your craft?

HAN SOLO: I don’t know. Probably. Which way to the bordello? I want to drift off tonight as the middle layer in a pile of rented flesh.

Star Wars Outer Rim Solo Session: Han Solo picks a fight with the Outer Rim’s version of Baron von Richtofen; look at all those goddamn hits

Han Solo had a clean line to the finish, that is, until the Level 2 and 3 faction patrols rolled out and my dice went on an extended strike. I couldn’t generate hits and kept having to limp around getting repairs because my fistful of dice would not perform.

Han lost a duel with an Imperial patrol. Then a Syndicate Class 3 craft. He pulled a job that let him attack Calrissean, who thankfully still had a crappy little ship at the time. Lando took his L and started racking up deliveries again like nothing happened.

One proper ship in my sights where the energy weapons could find their mark. That’s all I needed. I could still close it out in one strike while Lando hovered near the winning 10-fame mark. And I lost the dogfight again. I hadn’t generated more than three hits in any single dogfight down the stretch.

This carried over into Saturday afternoon and I was hung over, looking at the field of pieces and markers, wondering if solo Outer Rim made the cut.

You know people and their desert island boardgame lists? I succumbed to oddball visions of flight, like thinking about what I would have in the rear compartment of a reasonably clean used SUV if I was forced to sell my little shack and become some kind of Johnny Appleseed who sprinkles board game pieces and hangovers throughout the Interior West. Is Star Wars: Outer Rim in the small pile I take with me? Because I figure part of what makes the gambit work is to look like a carefree tourist and not a car tramp with a vehicle interior that looks like a curb in front of an apartment building after an eviction.

Looking at the game with dried-out morning eyes had me crankily zeroed in on a very important ratio: How did the fuss of setup and board management weigh against the flavor of the experience and the stimulation of the decision space?

In this view, solo play dropped off the menu. Yes, I keep the game in the back of the SUV because a) I’m not ready to ditch an $80 title after just four plays and b) on the odd night I got a hotel room and found myself in the lobby with some tipsy nerds, I could break it out because my multiplayer sessions with this one really crackled.

But the fuss-to-fun ratio isn’t the only criteria. I have Unfinished Business, the expansion for this game that seems widely admired on comment threads across the galaxy. It adds new dynamics, characters, ships, gear…so I’m going to re-read the finer points of the solo rules I misapplied when I was in my cups and see if it adds any depth before I just start reeling off verdicts with a hangover.

I’ll get back to you on that one.