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MAFIA CHAMPIONSHIP COMES TO VEGAS FOR SOME FRIENDLY PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE
Las Vegas Weekly
http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/news/2012/jul/18/mafia-returns-vegas-some-friendly-psychological-wa/
July 18 2012
Poker players: Your game sucks. By comparison, at least. If you
really want to put your bluffing and reasoning skills to the test,
you have to play Mafia.
Mafia is big in Russia and Armenia, but Maf World Cup director Armen
Hagopjanian wanted to hold the first-ever international championship in
Las Vegas at the Tropicana. Why? Because the Trop used to be owned by
the Mob and because it plays host to the newly refurbished interactive
Mob Attraction.
Nearly 80 Mafia players flew in from Russia, Armenia and LA to compete
for a chunk of the $30,000 prize pool. How'd they look? Like young KGB
recruits. Seriously, if you'd wandered into the Tropicana convention
area last weekend, you would have thought they were the real deal.
Usually, in game settings, I'm the competitive gunner. At the Trop,
I was the goof-off.
As a result, I was underestimated. Although I've never played Maf Club
Mafia before, I have played a similar game, also called Mafia. In
fact, I've hosted dozens of Mafia parties and introduced hundreds
of people to the game. The rules of Maf Club Mafia and Rick Lax
Mafia are very different, but the skill sets (persuading, lying,
reconsidering, thinking ahead) are identical. In each game of Maf
Club Mafia, 10 players are assigned secret roles: Three are Mafia,
seven are Citizens. The Mafia members know who's who, but the Citizens
are clueless. The Mafia tries to kill off the Citizens before the
Citizens figure out who's in the Mafia. Victory goes to whichever
team accomplishes its goal first.
I decided to pony up $333 of my own money to compete. Poker players
have a term for this: "dead money."
The first game, I drew the "Don" card and led my fellow Mafioso to
a "clean" victory, meaning we assassinated all the Citizens before
they outed any of us. After the game, I went to shake the hand of
one of the Citizens and give him the obligatory "good game." He
looked me square in the eyes and said in a thick Russian accent,
"I'm not shaking your hand." He wasn't kidding.
After my third game-another Mafioso victory for yours truly-one
girl started telling people that I was lying about being a reporter,
that she'd seen me playing in the LA Maf Club before.
After 11 games, I was ranked No. 4 and had made it to the final table.
My fellow finalists: Rustamov, Bakunts, Khachatryan, Apoyan,
Mkrtoumian, Gharibjanyan, Tokhatyan, Hovsepyan, and Petrosyan.
Yet again, I drew the Don card. Only this time, the Citizens were
flawless. They outed us one-by-one, swiftly and surely. I lost. Badly.
And I hate losing, but it's hard to be upset when I was so clearly
outmatched.
I walked away with tremendous respect for the Citizens who vanquished
me, for director Hagopjanian and for game host Hayk Petrosyan. And
for making the final table, I walked away with $1,500, too.
During the closing ceremony, the Russian guy who'd refused to shake
my hand tracked me down. He shook my hand, patted me on the back and
told me, "You play well." I told him the same. And I'm positive we
both meant it.
Las Vegas Weekly
http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/news/2012/jul/18/mafia-returns-vegas-some-friendly-psychological-wa/
July 18 2012
Poker players: Your game sucks. By comparison, at least. If you
really want to put your bluffing and reasoning skills to the test,
you have to play Mafia.
Mafia is big in Russia and Armenia, but Maf World Cup director Armen
Hagopjanian wanted to hold the first-ever international championship in
Las Vegas at the Tropicana. Why? Because the Trop used to be owned by
the Mob and because it plays host to the newly refurbished interactive
Mob Attraction.
Nearly 80 Mafia players flew in from Russia, Armenia and LA to compete
for a chunk of the $30,000 prize pool. How'd they look? Like young KGB
recruits. Seriously, if you'd wandered into the Tropicana convention
area last weekend, you would have thought they were the real deal.
Usually, in game settings, I'm the competitive gunner. At the Trop,
I was the goof-off.
As a result, I was underestimated. Although I've never played Maf Club
Mafia before, I have played a similar game, also called Mafia. In
fact, I've hosted dozens of Mafia parties and introduced hundreds
of people to the game. The rules of Maf Club Mafia and Rick Lax
Mafia are very different, but the skill sets (persuading, lying,
reconsidering, thinking ahead) are identical. In each game of Maf
Club Mafia, 10 players are assigned secret roles: Three are Mafia,
seven are Citizens. The Mafia members know who's who, but the Citizens
are clueless. The Mafia tries to kill off the Citizens before the
Citizens figure out who's in the Mafia. Victory goes to whichever
team accomplishes its goal first.
I decided to pony up $333 of my own money to compete. Poker players
have a term for this: "dead money."
The first game, I drew the "Don" card and led my fellow Mafioso to
a "clean" victory, meaning we assassinated all the Citizens before
they outed any of us. After the game, I went to shake the hand of
one of the Citizens and give him the obligatory "good game." He
looked me square in the eyes and said in a thick Russian accent,
"I'm not shaking your hand." He wasn't kidding.
After my third game-another Mafioso victory for yours truly-one
girl started telling people that I was lying about being a reporter,
that she'd seen me playing in the LA Maf Club before.
After 11 games, I was ranked No. 4 and had made it to the final table.
My fellow finalists: Rustamov, Bakunts, Khachatryan, Apoyan,
Mkrtoumian, Gharibjanyan, Tokhatyan, Hovsepyan, and Petrosyan.
Yet again, I drew the Don card. Only this time, the Citizens were
flawless. They outed us one-by-one, swiftly and surely. I lost. Badly.
And I hate losing, but it's hard to be upset when I was so clearly
outmatched.
I walked away with tremendous respect for the Citizens who vanquished
me, for director Hagopjanian and for game host Hayk Petrosyan. And
for making the final table, I walked away with $1,500, too.
During the closing ceremony, the Russian guy who'd refused to shake
my hand tracked me down. He shook my hand, patted me on the back and
told me, "You play well." I told him the same. And I'm positive we
both meant it.