by: Michael Barnes

Junta, designed way back in 1978, is one of those old games that just hasn’t held up very well over the years. The concept was great—players are politicos vying for power and the presidency of an extremely volatile quasi-South American banana republic in a struggle rife with backstabbing, betrayal, and broken promises. The game had an interesting mechanical structure, pairing a fairly simple card game with a more complex wargame element to play out coup attempts. It needed a full complement of seven players and at least five or six hours to play. Some people still swear by it, but I’d be willing to bet bucks to bananas that full games of it are rarely played by anyone today. It’s a game that’s better admired than played.

Two Austrian designers who obviously admired the game but wanted to be able to actually play it have come up with a great idea. They saw fit to more or less gut the game, cut out all the fat, and leave everything good behind. The overhaul would keep the core player interaction and simple card play that many fondly remember. But the long-winded coup mechanics would be replaced completely with a more abstract dice-rolling resolution system that literally cuts the playtime down to a mere 30 to 45 minutes. The result, published in the US just a couple of weeks ago by Z-Man Games, is Junta: Viva El Presidente. Cry all you want that the old timey chit-pushing is gone, but the original game didn’t come with a pair of presidential sunglasses now did it?

It is slightly disappointing that the game only supports five when it’s definitely a “more the merrier” kind of affair. Its simple rules are easy to teach and even a total gaming newbie can pick up on the direct goals and agendas. Each player takes the role of a wealthy, lazy member of the Junta, holed up in a lavish estate and commanding a private army from a safe distance. The goal is simple: round up victory points by building on to your estate or by grabbing a couple of secret point cards from the deck or another player’s hand. The sunglasses are used to visually identify the player that is the current Presidente, and they’re worth a point too.

On each turn, the Presidente gets a number of cards from foreign aid sources that he has to redistribute to other players. These cards might be one to three pesos or special action cards that affect combat or other facets of play. It’s completely up to El or La Presidente’s discretion as to how these cards should be shared. A generous benefactor might split them evenly among all players to foster goodwill. Or they might give extra cards to the player with the strongest army to encourage an alliance.

Once all promises are made, players secretly commit their militia to either attack another player or defend the Presidente. You see, sometimes players aren’t happy with the gifts that the munificent Presidente has bestowed upon them and see fit to seize power. When this happens, a player simply assigns his dice to the number of the Presidente player. The usurper might be so bold as to persuade others to join the revolution while others might side with the current regime and assign their dice to defend the Presidential estate. What follows is a simple dice-off, with all defending dice added together including the current strength of the estate versus the sum of attacking dice. Should the Presidency fall, the sunglasses change hands, cards are plundered from the loser’s hands, and the former leader is left to lick their wounds and plot revenge.

That’s all there is to it other than a purchasing round where players spend pesos to add new buildings to their estates, buy cards, or purchase additional militia dice. This is not a game about rules or intricate mechanics; it’s about making strident threats, holding grudges, issuing vendettas, cajoling, and being a complete jerk to your friends. The rules kindly stay out of the way, emphasizing player dialogue and emergent play rather than bogging down in exceptions, minutiae, or structuralism. It’s a snap to teach even the most inexperienced gamers, and its directness ensures that all but the most milquetoast players will be engaged in high treason and naked aggression before the first round is over.