Nanty Narking

This is a classic reborn! Martin Wallace's design, originally set in a different universe, has been now translated into the realities of the myths and legends of the Victorian London. The same London which stood as inspiration for so many stories. Unavailable for more than 3 years now, the game returns in a new, stunning PHALANX quality edition.

Nanty Narking is a Victorian board game of wit and podsnappery that reintroduces the well-known bestseller of Martin Wallace. Immersed deeply in the world of Dickens's and Doyle's literature, the card events in the game are now tied to real and fictional characters and places in London. More specifically, following a scrupulous analysis of inspirations that were found and identified in historical English literature, all game locations, events, and characters have received new identities corresponding to the ones found in the previous edition of the game. This way the game retains its attractiveness to the established audience, but expands its reach to a wide range of people generally interested in history and literature of the Victorian period.

The action takes place on the map of London, with players placing their followers and buildings on the board through card play. Each of the 132 cards is unique, and "the cards bring the game to life as they include most of the famous characters that have appeared in the various books. The rules are relatively simple: Play a card and do what it says. Most cards have more than one action on them, and you can choose to do some or all of these actions. Some cards also allow you to play a second card, so you can chain actions" (Martin Wallace). At the beginning of the game, each player draws a secret personality with specific victory conditions, which means that you can never be sure what the other players need to do in order to win. You need to fulfill your goal while also trying to prevent others from winning!

Simple game rules and deep, immersive gameplay are the backbone of this title’s success.

Lord Balmoral’s diary:

24th October 1894 (late afternoon)

Raindrops have been drumming irregular rhythms upon the windowpanes ceaselessly for over two days. The sky, heavily tumescent with lead-coloured clouds, bears an uncanny resemblance to the ceiling trap whose only intent is to form an infernal miasma with the pea soup fog, both of which are surely going to provide us all with a prolonged throe of asphyxiation one day.

I have installed myself in an armchair and am poised in a debonair manner of a self-controlled man, who ought not to reveal how much his assumed disposition deviates from his outward appearance. Impeccably equivocal, only my fingers betray me, unwittingly reenacting the tapping sounds of the rain. James should be back with the money any minute now. If only I had foreseen that old Blackwood would exhibit such a despicable indolence, I would have never taken the liberty of accepting this accursed promissory note. So many days utterly wasted… How many times pitiful bureaucrats and pencil pushers forced me to play paper chase with them! How many sleepless nights have I suffered by reason of some shady individuals and East End cutthroats, who must have been deliberately ordained by some crook, wretch, or a regular scoundrel to torment me, God only knows out of what reason indeed! I know, to lay his filthy rapacious hands on this townhouse in Holborn towards which I have been undertaking audacious steps for over three months – to acquire it, that is. Thank heavens by next Monday all will have been taken care of, for I have an appointment with my notary at the bank on Garrick Street to settle the matter once and for all. Finally, I will breathe a sigh of relief! I am praying that James will come back with the total amount due… Recently, he was dogged by a man donned in a sporty jacket who walked a sighthound on a leash. Many a time have I seen him strolling in front of my apartment, casting surreptitious glances over my windows from under his flat cap or standing at the corner of the street, allegedly engaging himself in a courteous prattle with a flower peddler, when in fact he kept a close eye on the front entrance of my house.

And the cadaver of a Whitechapel harlot which has been found near the docks two days ago?! The whole city is buzzing with rumours that this appalling crime is a comeback message either by no other than Jack The Ripper himself or his abominable copycat. As for now Scotland Yard has been as silent as the grave and refrained from releasing any official statement. However, every cloud has a silver lining – East End is lying doggo now. Come to think of it, not so long ago bobbies had their hands full dealing with the aftermath of a flood which had deluged some of the eastern boroughs of the city and had been completely neglected by the authorities. What ensued was a series of riots which stirred up East End rather badly. Although the old saying goes “it never rains but it pours,” the other one would be much more applicable here, I believe. Frankly, the fish rots from the head down, so...oh, the door downstairs has just slammed! It must be James…