More murderous than Monopoly
The easiest way to describe Kill Doctor Lucky in one sentence or less is “the game that happened before Clue.” Much like Clue, you and your fellow players are guests invited to dinner at a rambling country mansion around the turn of the (last) century. Unlike Clue, however, you have all come to the same two conclusions:
1.) Doctor Lucky has got to die.
2.) You want to be the one to do him in.
You’ve got the motive, you’re wandering through a giant mansion full of weapons, now all that remains is to get the old man in a room where nobody can see you and…
Wait, he dodged? What? How? Maybe he’s called Doctor Lucky for a reason.
Kill Doctor Lucky was originally created by James Ernest, founder of Cheapass Games. For those of you who don’t know about this lovely little company, they sold games based on the philosophy that you, as a player of board games, already have tons of dice, counters, pawns, play money, etc. etc. and that all they needed to sell was the part that made their game unique: the rules, the cards, and the boards. Most of their games were printed in monochrome on cardstock and sold in white printed envelopes. The result of this somewhat odd combination was a series of games that were, well, cheap, but full of creativity. Games like Devil Bunny Needs a Ham, Give Me The Brain, The Very Clever Pipe Game, Unexploded Cow, and, of course, Devil Bunny Hates the Earth. But I digress.
True to their name, the Cheapass Games version of the game consisted entirely of a board (made out of two black-and-white printed pieces of cardstock that you set next to each other) and some cards (also made out of monochrome printed cardstock), and sold for less than ten bucks. You supplied the pawns. These days you can buy a beautiful, full-color board game from Titanic Games, but the gameplay stays the same: try to get the doctor into a room where nobody can see you and whack him, using whatever’s handy. All the other players (who would rather that theirs was the hand that did the deed) play luck cards to stop you. Eventually, however, the doctor’s luck runs out and somebody emerges the victor. Time to clear out and let Colonel Mustard start gathering evidence (that’s one thing that never made sense to me. Why would Mrs. Peacock proudly tell everyone that she killed Mr. Boddy with the knife in the conservatory? Why didn’t she just leave? But once again I digress.)
The cards only add to the 1930′s weirdness of the game, and make Clue look positively tame (which it is). Weapon cards range from the expected “rope” and “knife” to the more esoteric “rancid butter” and “monkey’s paw”. In a recent game my wife won when she blasted the good doctor with a Civil War cannon.
Every weapon has a number tied to it, so pinking shears may have a “murder value” of two, meaning that the other players need to have at least two points worth of luck cards to stop you. Some cards (like the aforementioned Civil War cannon) do more damage in certain rooms (in this case the armory, where… The… cannonballs are kept? I don’t know. Just play the game). Even if you don’t have a weapon card you’re always allowed to just poke the doctor in the eye. It’s not very likely to succeed, but hey, it’s worth a shot.
The luck cards are just as much fun as the weapons, each one explaining what happened to let the doctor avoid death. Things like “The doctor inexplicably vanishes in a cloud of feathers.” or “You have somehow mistaken a child’s toy for Doctor Lucky.” Or simply “You are stupid, stupid, stupid.” There are few things more fun than giving someone that particular failure just when they were sure they had won the game.
Unlike a lot of board games, there’s a lot to do when it’s not your turn. Well, okay, there’s one thing to do: try to stop the other players from snuffing Doctor Lucky’s candle. But it’s a full-time job. Doctor Lucky wanders erratically around the mansion, and there’s always someone waiting with their runcible spoon. The game plays quickly and is joyfully, nefariously interactive. When my sweet-as-chocolate-chip-cookies mother exclaimed, “Oooh! I just want that old goober dead!” I knew I had picked a winner. Mom never uses language like that.
You have a limited amount of time, so why spend it reading about things that suck or are only kind of okay? Favorite thing EVER is not a review site. We're unrepentant fans, and this is the stuff we love. Hope you like gushing, because we're about to embarrass ourselves.
That is a marvelous premise for a game. I’m not a big fan of board games, as a rule, but I’d play the hell out of this one.
I have the original Cheapass version, as well as the premiere “actually has a board and pieces” edition! Love this game!
I played it at a Seattle Geekly gameday and I won, so I’m a huge fan already. In fact, we bought a copy at Gamestorm or somewhere. Woo, Dr. Lucky!
Yes! I love this game! We bought the Cheapass envelope for it years ago.
I haven’t killed Doctor Lucky in ages. I am stupid, stupid, stupid.