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Well, the first turn went OK. Ish.

Distrust and fear sweeps the remnant of the human fleet, with rumours that the mysterious Final Five Cylons are somewhere aboard the Galactica as they journey toward the Ionian Nebula. But the crew put their trust in noble Admiral William Adama and his brave son 'Apollo', poster-boys for the human spirit. Y'know, until a succession of the worst possible crises pop out of the deck, prompting legions of Cylon ships to scythe down nearly half the population and break various parts of the ship with harrowing efficiency.

President Gaius F. Baltar casually asks the Admiral if he'd mind the good doctor holding up a photo of a Cylon agent next to his head and doing a quick comparison. The Admiral mutters something about that being a bad idea, to widespread scepticism. After a few more parts of the ship explode, the Admiral's second-turn reveal is a surprise only because it came so close to a jump.

"Now look here, you traitorous, mechanical weasel. Know that you have wronged me and that I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy. My vengeance will be eternal. Mark my words, Adama, you haven't seen the last of me," declares Baltar as he walks around the corner and is immediately destroyed in the fireball that used to be Captain Kelly, who had just that moment decided to spontaneously combust. In his final moments, Baltar is revealed to be one of the Five, causing everyone on the ship to lose basically all of their skill cards ever. After Tory Foster inherits the Presidency, Ms Helena Cain stumbles out of the shower, asking what year it is and glaring at pipsqueak Admiral Apollo.

With the fleet in disarray and in dire need of escape, Chief Tyrol slips on a banana peel and falls into the brig while on his way to punch FTL. Admiral Apollo stalls long enough for a centurion to board the ship just before the jump finally goes ahead, then gets an XO to deal with the intruder but instead opts to shoot himself in the head for a one-way ticket back to Papa Chrome's resurrection pad. Suddenly there are only three trustworthy humans left on the ship, the only one of whom with any cards in his hand sitting on his hands in the brig, while D'Anna runs around the Galactica unchecked, mostly just trying to stop all the doughnuts from catching fire.

It carries on in much the same way as Big Billy Toast and progeny ping the humans in and out of the brig like fleshy yo-yos, with the Galactica pretty much constantly about halfway to being destroyed. Impressively, the humans manage to string out their resources until distance 6, at which point they have to either attempt a desperate jump towards the Nebula in hope that they land somewhere which can give them a crucial fuel boost or stay and wait, allowing the huge Cylon fleet an odds-on chance of sniping the last doughnut left in the known universe out of Galactica's hold.

They jump. There's no fuel. The humans - all 1 population of them - run out of their remaining 1 food as they drift helplessly through deep space, though oddly they all seem quite happy about it all. D'Anna is just a single doughnut away from victory. The first family of warm bread reigns supreme.

While everyone wondered whose bright idea it was to give Nexus access to firearms, the early game was relatively peaceful, although Cavil's motives were called into question when an early but relatively innocuous spike surfaced, planting an extra civilian into an already sizeable and poorly defended cluster of them, with a force of raiders closing. The obvious disaster soon struck as the civvies were destroyed in a hail of bullets, dropping population to just 4 with only 1 distance travelled. At least the President had cleared the Admiral of toasteneity.

With not a lot else to do, the unhappily brigged Cavil simply took a ride back to the resurrection ship and spent several turns loading up on super crises, while simultaneously insisting that he had only humanity's best interests at heart, fooling precisely nobody (despite it later transpiring to have been half-true). In the absence of any major disasters, Roslin similarly loaded up on quorum cards for a rainy day, while Anders repeatedly and loudly prayed that she not turn on sleeper.

She turned on sleeper. Opportunity knocked immediately after the fleet passed the threshold. Despite an investigative committee forcing cards to be played face-up, Roslin showed her true colours by spiking hard on a crucial crisis. The humans decided it was worth a try to pull it out anyway but, with Cavil only too happy to contribute to the failure, they fell agonisingly short and drained of most of their hands. In short order, Roslin issued an arrest order on Cally to avoid being shot in the face with extreme prejudice.

What followed was a lesson in just how powerful a cancer-riddled, middle-aged person can be. The humans thought they were being clever in tanking the first of two checks to spring Cally from lockup but succeeded only in earning Anders enough mutiny cards to dump him down with her, while a sneaky Change of Plans from Roslin prevented what would have been a successful escape.

It took another hour to confirm it, but that really was the game-winning moment. There was a brief scare when Cavil began to worry that Roslin would win in the wrong way for him to share in it but a deft break *into* the brig from the then-deposed President to once again avoid Cally's gun smoothed over their differences. The humans lost on morale, with 6 distance reached.

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Reflections:
Patrick's hand management was excellent and he thoroughly deserved the win.
Roslin's strength is enhanced even further by games of fewer than five players. It was clear from miles away that her drawing the Cylon card at sleeper would be a huge deal.
Daybreak's treacherous brigfests are the only real drawback of an otherwise essential expansion.