We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of a punchline. Like Duke Nuke'em Forever, Glamazons has taken the wind out of the perfectly good Kickstarter/Vaporware joke by actually delivering on their product. (And why do I think that Killjoy is probably smirking seeing Glamazon's mentioned in the same paragraph as noted feminist Duke Nuke'em?)
Doing what Killjoy does best, Glamazons adeptly skewers a variety of stereotropes with such precision that you start to wonder if maybe you are just reading too much into it. Example: The premise of the game is that Glamazon's are tired of useless armor designed by “tasteless medieval blacksmiths.” Granted, this isn't exactly shining a new spotlight on the dark reaches of Medieval fantasy sexism. Pretty much every Conan novel cover and piece of classic Dungeon and Dragons artwork would have you convinced that Female Warriors were doing damage with 2 “DD's” instead of 2d6...all while laying on the ground and seductively stretched out.
But Glamazon's went next level in my psyche with the peel and place armor that you put onto the Glamazons:
“So, you are dressing them up like paper dolls? (Unsaid: Like little girls do).
“Well, they are peel and stick like Colorforms.”
“Yea, don't you remember those? Like the Spiderman and Hulk one's from when we were little, where you could create your own fights? The ones where all of Hulk's Enemies were green because they were too cheap to print them in another color?”
“Oh hell yea, I loved those!”
“Yea, so, you are dressing them up like you used to do when you were a little boy.”
Leaning hard into what is probably considered traditional “Little Girl Terminology” you powder your nose (make sure you have two cards in your hand), pick out your BFF (Best Friend Forever) from a deck, and head out to make small work of some stylish monsters. Your BFF plays a card, stating what damage it is (From 1 to 8). You either say “I trust you” or call them out. If you trust them, you then you play a card of your own, stating what damage you did (from 1 to 8) and whoever did the most damage reaps the reward of killing the monster and turning it into some swanky armor. The first player to assemble a full set of armor, wins the game.
Of course, the core of the game is the “Trust Me” step. Like Coup, a player can claim to have any card.
But if you or your BFF calls the other out, you must reveal the card. If you or they were lying, you not only lose the armor from the monster you were fighting, but they also snag one of the armor pieces off of your board and you are required to take a shot of Fireball.
Phone rings in the background
Excuse me, one second.
“Hello, yes? What do you mean that is not in the rules? Are you sure? That is always the way we have played it. Fine, well, when DO you take a shot? What do you mean there is not supposed to be alcohol involved? Hmmm,well, that DOES explain why I kept claiming I was playing a 9 and everyone called me out on it. Thank you. Scribbles on paper “Tell Killjoy to upload drinking rules.”
Matt Fantastic put on his prettiest dress to sprinkle Cosmic Encounter pixie dust along with some Coup glitter into a princess potion that embraces a “girly” theme at the exact same time it sweeps the legs out from underneath decades of ogling the female form over function armor. And if you reading this review Matt, I have two words for what should be in your next game “Shrinky MF'ing Dinks.”
I await your response as breathlessly as when I awaited the responses to determine the starting player in Glamazon: “Whoever last played dress-up goes first.”