The Espresso Flight Simulator

Unboxing was busy. Once we'd finished punching out the components, apart from the flight track strips, we had tracks, gauges, a chunky slotted control panel rigged with buttons ... bits of cardboard everywhere.

Looked like we were in for a real cardboard fest. But was this going to work as a flight simulator?

The control panel looked technical enough - a bit like an overcomplicated Nintendo cardboard prototype. One drawback though was the dice. I mean, what do dice have to do with flight simulation? Dice mean randomness, and the last thing I need for landing an airplane is randomness.

At least the dice here were nice: blue and orange, no dots.

And those cute wooden airplanes and coffee cups.

Coffee cups? Yum, an earthy touch there to greet us as we stepped into the alien world of wing flaps, wing tilt and wingdomness in general. I chose my usual decaf cappuccino and the pilot in me clicked into place.

I never looked back.

Suddenly we were approaching Montreal, my daughter and I (she was my copilot). We could see the land far below, feel the tilt of the plane, hear the hum of wing flaps being activated.

Honestly, this was cool. I mean, had we been sitting opposite each other, the illusion would have been destroyed.

Since when has seating position made a boardgame work to this extent?

In Sky Team, you must sit side by side, because ahead is Ahead, and that's where the air traffic is that you're desperately radioing to clear your path. (Wow, what a few little plane tokens on a sliding track can do to give the feeling of air clutter and imminent disaster if you don't clear the way!)

And you must conceal your dice in those cubbies. Real pilots always conceal their dice from each other. They are incommunicado for a reason. Each one to their own job, their own set of controls, barking their incomprehensible jargon over the jet turbine roar. (Here, 'incomprehensible' means 'silent' - more about that later.)

The thing that marveled me most about that control panel was the airplane-tilt dial. Who needs a digital screen when you can just plonk a plastic dial in a hole and tilt it in the direction of the higher die?

Axis control regulated by dice difference! Amazing!

And speed is determined by dice totals fitting engine parameters that you raise by doing other dice things with wheels and flaps and ...

Mayday, mayday! Somebody help me describe what's going on here! I mean, this is dice-matching, dice-ordering, the things you used to do in Yahtzee, and you thought never again. But here you are, approaching the runway, and dice are buzzing and bouncing and piloting your craft.

And even granting you an espresso coffee boost when you need it.

And you will. Here, coffee is such an integral part of piloting, you'd think the airline was sponsored by Starbucks. Coffee cups are dice modifiers that can help clear the air of other planes, prepare your wing flaps for landing, reduce your speed ... Basically, anything a normal Starbucks coffee can do.

Yes, you'll need your dose of coffee for all the jobs you have in mind. The copilot has the task of opening those flaps in order, and the pilot needs to remember to raise the brake parameter for a successful landing.

And both of you must engage in some deft mind-reading to control tilt and speed, like when to raise the engine parameters to stop high dice numbers making you go too fast.

Mind-reading. That's where the real fun is. And it's where dice-shouting comes into play.

No, you won't be yelling at the dice (that was Yahtzee, remember?) You'll be using dice to shout warnings to each other, usually with extreme numbers. Starting with a high or low number on a central gauge means, “I'm giving you time to match this one!” So if you see me start with a five in the axis section, I'm yelling, “Watch out, I only have high numbers and we used up our reroll token!!”

Just as well the dice speak, because we aren't allowed to during the rounds.

Though, honestly, who keeps to that?

Okay, we try, but subliminal stuff usually escapes us, like a sharp intake of breath as your partner is about to do something reckless, or “Is the airspace still so cluttered?” or “Hmm, I could do with a coffee RIGHT NOW!!”. Things that are off the record and forgotten in the glow of victory.

And victory glows, even in Montreal. No offence to Canadian readers, but basic-level Montreal is just to get your eye in. I'm waiting for those more exotic-sounding destinations to really test our mastery. How will we deal with a dry tank, or icy runways, or strong tail winds? I'm sure we'll unconsciously shake in our seats or do whatever we need to faithfully simulate the conditions. I'm even thinking this game has some other tricks up its sleeve, like you pass scenario 20 and suddenly a little pop-up sign appears: “Congratulations, you broke through!” and lights start switching on everywhere and you get a simulated aircraft roar coming out the back of the board.

No, don't doubt the authenticity of this mean little flight simulation package. If coffee can be so indispensable to the flight experience and dice can be such masterful flight controllers, then I wouldn't discount anything.

As for us, we're still at the beginning of our journey, waiting to see how well we can handle kerosene leaks, breaking on ice and renegade flight controllers throwing random kamikaze airplanes at us. All that fun still lies ahead.

But one thing's for sure. We're going to need a good few coffee boosts on the way to keep us on track ...

"Please fasten your seatbelts: we are approaching some adverse dice conditions ..."

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