Celebrating 6000 Years of Allan
Sixty years ago, Allan burst onto the scene — or so the official records claim. But those of us who have followed his career closely know the truth: Allan has been quietly improving civilisation for approximately six millennia. Stonehenge? His idea. The Sphinx? He insisted on adding the nose (it didn't survive). The Roman Colosseum snack bar? Completely his initiative, and frankly ahead of its time.
Today we honour this remarkable tenure with AllanCon 6000 — a mini board-gaming convention in the grand tradition of conventions Allan himself inspired, right back when "convention" meant "gathering of Mesopotamian tile-layers."
Grab a drink, pick up some dice, and join us in celebrating the man, the myth, and the meeple. Happy 60th, Allan!
"I only helped a little with the pyramids. The ramp was entirely someone else's idea." — Allan, attributed, c. 2550 BCE
A photographic retrospective spanning 6000 years of civic involvement
Allan cuts the ceremonial ribbon on humanity's most ambitious outdoor gaming table. The acoustics were perfect for announcing rule clarifications to the whole tribe. He did have some concerns about the lack of a roof.
Allan's early foray into monumental sculpture. Pharaoh Khafre asked for "something impressive." Allan suggested a giant lion with a human face "just to keep people guessing." He remains proud of the result, notwithstanding subsequent nose-related incidents.
Allan had nothing to do with the Trojan Horse. He simply wanted a photo in front of it because, and we quote, "it's a really big wooden horse." He did think it was "a bit of a stretch, strategically," but admits the Greeks pulled it off.
Historians largely overlook Allan's greatest contribution to Roman culture: the Colosseum snack bar. Salted almonds, flat bread, and watered-down wine — a business model that lives on in every sports arena to this day. He still thinks the markup was fair.
Twelve hundred years after the Colosseum snack bar, Allan was still thinking about food. Here he is purchasing flour at a 12th-century Dutch windmill — reportedly for a stroopwafel recipe that, tragically, has been lost to history.
After 6000 years of ribbon-cutting, sculpting, sightseeing, snack-vending, and flour-shopping, Allan celebrates the completion of the world's tallest free-standing structure the only sensible way: base jumping off it. Same as it ever was.
All times approximate — Allan has never been a stickler for punctuality
A curated library spanning all of recorded history — and then some