Clash of Clans

Who’s heard the words Clash of Clans bandied about of late? Well, if you have children – especially of the male variety – who are allowed devices, it will most likely be the talk of the town. And if you’re like me, you will have no clue what it is all about.

All I know is that the kids are buried in their devices utterly absorbed in this Clash of Clans palaver. Apparently all the players on Clash of Clans have code names so they often don’t know who other players are in real life. However, through one of those bizarre chain of events, Master 11 recently found out one of his ‘friends’ went to primary school with me and now my interest was piqued. Are people my age really interested in playing this game and what was it all about. I made myself sit down with him one day to find out.

He opened the screen to reveal what looked to be a maze of brick walls with tiny buildings and fortresses and cannons and things within. I say ‘things’ because that was about all I could make out. Even with my glasses on, I was struggling to identify what anything else was. Already my attention span was waning.

“But what is the aim of the game?” I impatiently asked.

“You have to try and build up a village and the other people try and destroy it,” he patiently answered.

“But where are the bathrooms and how do the people that live there go to the toilet?” I asked, leaning closer to the screen to try and find something of interest.

“Oh, they don’t have things like that,” he said.

I tried to understand, I really did but, as he went on to explain about trophies and buying things for his town, I found my mind drifting off to what I should cook for tea. I made one last attempt at showing interest.

“What are you typing?” I asked, leaning in to try and read the tiny text on the side of the screen.

“I’m having a conversation with one of my friends in my clan.”

“What are you saying?”

“I just said ‘Oh nooo L’”

“Why?”

“Because they destroyed some of my village.”

“But why didn’t you defend it?”

“Because they did it while I was asleep last night.”

That didn’t sound very fair to me and why were they in the same clan in the first place if they were attacking each other’s villages and, besides, what kind of village didn’t have a toilet?

Then I remembered it was indeed ‘Taco Tuesday’ so I made my apologies and, none the wiser, went to thaw the mince instead.

Footnote: for the sake of enlightening readers I have Googled the subject: Clash of Clans is an online multiplayer strategy game which tasks players to build their own town (in the form of a clan) using the resources gained from attacking other players through the game's fighting features. Its primary objective is to be the person with the most trophies. You earn trophies either by successfully attacking someone else's village, or by successfully defending against an attack from another online player. As you earn more trophies, you climb the ranks and are matched against opponents of equal or greater skill. The ultimate goal is to work your way to the top — the Champion class. To get there, you need to spend either a lot of time or money to upgrade your village, train your soldiers, and develop the best strategies for both offense and defence. Players can conjoin to create clans - groups of up to fifty people - who can then partake in clan wars together, donate and receive troops, and talk with each other.

Queenstown

Animals at cattery – tick, gold fish at neighbour’s – tick, gloves, hats and jackets packed – tick – we were on our way! Queenstown we were bound and it was the kids’ first flight. 

After a slight delay, due to fog and going through the wrong gate, we boarded the plane and took off.

Up in ‘cotton candy land’, as one of the boys dubbed it, the ultra-friendly Air New Zealand hostess Sara stopped and chatted before asking if any of the kids were twins.

“Yeah and we’re selling the girl,” quipped her brother.

Sara must’ve taken a shine to a shy Miss Eight and decided to rescue her from her mean siblings; inviting her to hand out lollies to the 100-plus passengers on board before giving her a cupful of sweets and kindly emailing me the photos.

Soon, things began to get exciting out the window as we spotted snow-peaked mountains – our backdrop for the next five days.

“This isn’t Queenstown – it’s the dessert!” exclaimed one of the boys, peering outside at the expanse before us.

“No, we’ve landed in China,” said another.

Before disembarking, they were invited to the cockpit.

“Have you got something to say to the pilots?” I coaxed them.

“Thank you for not letting us die,” wise-cracked Master Eight before disembarking and shivering as the cold slapped us Northlanders in the face.

“What was that you were saying about your shorts?” I reminded him, referring to his chastising me all the way there for not packing his usual standard attire of shorts, shirt and bare feet.

He turned his pinched face toward me and tried unsuccessfully to suppress another shiver.

The shuttle was awaiting and, as we headed closer to Queenstown, we were rendered silent by the sheer breath-taking beauty of the scenery out the windows.

I was aware of the drastic difference in landscape and climate but wasn’t prepared for the beauty and vibrancy of the township itself. The town was amass of twinkling fairy lights, delicious smells and teems of different nationalities filling the pavements.

We quickly ditched our bags at the accommodation to get in amongst it.

The next day we went up the gondola where Lake Wakatipu snaked out below us and we were above the surrounding snow-peaked mountains with their ever-present wrap-around wisp of cloud. Then it was straight to the luge to race down the mountain-side on repeat. Both my boys whipped past me but I made up for it when I shot past one broken down and then crashed into the other at the bottom.

Like the Rotorua luge, there is a jellybean shop at the top where the kids spin the wheel and have to eat either a yummy jellybean or a dud. The nearby bin came in handy as the dog food, booga, stinky socks and vomit flavours didn’t go down so well. 

The Zero Below Ice Bar was next on the agenda, where we dressed as eskimos and had a game of air hockey (made of ice) and drunk cocktails and mocktails at the bar (also made of ice).

The next day we hired a car bound for Wanaka, stopping in the quaint and picturesque Arrowtown to pan for gold. Us rookies only managed to scoop a panful of silt and debris, along with a ‘greenstone’ (slimy rock) so opted instead to purchase a capsule of gold flecks (which looked suspiciously like glitter).

Because the icy cold water had frozen our fingers numb, we wrapped them around a lovely hot chocolate in a cosy café before heading to the legendary Cardrona Hotel for an extraordinary lunch of blue cod and chips. There is a lot more than meets the eye from the roadside view of this ancient pub and the kids had a ball frolicking and exploring out the back. 

At Wanaka we were welcomed by the golden hues of autumn reflecting upon a mirrored lake and it was onto Puzzling World, where we undertook the baffling maze and optical illusions rooms. The sloping floor made one extremely dizzy and we were all staggering around like a bunch of drunks.

Back in Queenstown – aka puffer jacket central - we finally got to try the famous Fergburger by going at a random time (the queues at this place are extreme) and were entertained by a friendly elderly local busking, interspersed with howling from his large shaggy dog during the chorus.

Before we knew it, it was time to return, with the oldest getting frisked at the airport due to the fidget spinner in his pocket setting off the beeper, much to the others’ entertainment. 

We emerged at a positively tropical Auckland airport where Master Eight promptly stripped to his tee shirt, rolled up his pants and whipped off his shoes.

Goodbye beautiful Queenstown.