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Review: Epochs: Course of Cultures – 2025

Designer: Jeffrey CCH

I do enjoy a good civilization game. In fact, if one were to casually browse my gaming shelves (an expedition not unlike cataloguing a particularly nerdy wing of the British Museum), one would find no shortage of grand historical ambitions neatly packed into cardboard. Titles such as Through the Ages, Western Empires, and Nations just to name a few sit there rather smugly, silently judging lesser boxes. One might even say, though only after a modest pause for dramatic effect, that I am something of a connoisseur.

I know, more or less, what I want from a civilization game, but I do delight in being surprised by games in this genre, providing something unexpected. This is precisely where Epoch: Course of Cultures emerges, like a well-dressed time traveller stepping out of a slightly unreliable machine. It presents a civilization-building experience that feels comfortingly familiar, yet curiously novel, an impressive feat that would likely earn a small, approving nod from Sid Meier himself. I would even argue this game has done more for the genre itself than the latest PC disappointment, Civilisation 7, though that is not as extraordinary feat as you might imagine it to be. A topic perhaps for another day.

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_star christmas_star(3.6 out 5 Stars)

Epoch: Course of Cultures is, at its heart, an action selection civilization builder, which is a wonderfully polite way of saying, “you will spend a great deal of time making big key decisions and then immediately wondering if they were terrible ones.” Beneath the surface, it carries many of the familiar mechanical bones of the genre, but with just enough curious mutations and original ideas to keep things feeling fresh, competitive, and pleasantly tense in that “I may have just doomed my people” sort of way.

Now, civilization games do have a reputation for being… Chronologically challenged. In that context, Epoch sits comfortably in the middle ground. When compared to titans like Through the Ages or Western Empires, a four-hour playtime feels almost refreshingly restrained, like a historical epic that politely ends before your snacks run out. That said, it’s quite the affair compared to your standard board game play time, especially at the preferred 4 player count.

One of the central concepts behind a good civilization game in my opinion, is that it should feel massive, epic.. sprawling even. That approach however, usually comes with several drawbacks, the time needed to play often being one of the primary reasons you rarely get to play them. I love my Western Empires, but getting 5+ players together for a 12+ hour game is exceedingly rare, so it becomes a beloved dust collector instead.

What Epoch does rather cleverly is take a seemingly simple action structure and quietly turn it into something far more devious. On your turn, you’ll do something wonderfully straightforward: play a card representing a development in your civilization, and then choose an action, settling new lands, advancing culture, investing in science, and so on. All very reasonable, yet that play of a card leads to all the actions that include all the core ideas of civilisation building. Production, technology, construction, trade, etc.. All very civilised. And yet, beneath this calm exterior lurks a deeply strategic, wonderfully thinky puzzle that will have you staring at the board as though it has personally offended you.

And there is quite a lot of board to stare at. The game comes with an impressive collection of pieces, icons, tracks, and other paraphernalia that suggest great complexity. But in truth, mechanically speaking, especially by civilization game standards, Epoch is surprisingly approachable. It’s less “arcane ritual” and more “well-organised chaos.”

There is so much built into your action selection card play in Epoch that it feels wonderfully intuitive and powerful each time you pick something. It’s a decision that will pay out over the course of the entire game, making each action central to a larger, grand strategy.

What truly elevates the experience, however, is how tight it feels and how interactive it is in a way modern games in general have been gradually pulling away from. Every action matters. Every decision nudges your civilization forward in a way that feels tangible and earned, with an impact on the other players directly. This subtle but blatant interaction makes you constantly aware of your opponents, because unlike many modern civ builders, Epoch is not afraid to let you go to war. In fact, escalation towards war is one of the core features of the game. Each player’s choices ripple into yours, shaping your next move, whether you like it or not, it’s really only a matter of time before you clash. This is a refreshing change from many civilization games, which can sometimes feel like a group of people politely playing solo games in the same room, with occasional brushes like “oh no, you took the card I wanted”. Here, the interaction is real, the tension is present, and the consequences are just inconvenient enough to be delightful.

Civilization: A New Dawn shares a lot of similarities as a design with Epoch, both games feature an explorable terrain board and an action selection system that drives the game forward, but unlike Epoch, A New Dawn landed rather flat with me and it was the shortage of meaningful interaction between players that I would blame as the root cause for it.

In its own way, Epoch will challenge classics like Through The Ages, though the question remains, where does it rank in the great scheme of this very robust genre? I don’t think you can get away with making a Civilization builder without comparisons, so we will be doing a bit of that in this review.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: Very flashy and usable.  Things are easy to find the iconography is exceptional.

Cons: There are a lot of pieces to this game, and you’re going to need a larger-than-standard table to play it, especially 4 players.

I consider component quality to be important in a civilization game only because these games are, at their core, sprawling puzzles masquerading as historical progress. You are expected to maintain a bird’s-eye view of everything at all times, an impressive feat, given that your brain is already busy calculating the long-term consequences of a decision you made fifteen minutes ago involving what seemed, at the time, to be a perfectly innocent grain surplus.

Analysis Paralysis is not just a possibility here, it’s more of a lifestyle choice. When a single action can ripple five to ten turns into the future, you need clarity. You need visibility. You need iconography that doesn’t require a degree in interpretive archaeology to understand. In short, you need the game to communicate with you clearly, ideally without muttering cryptic symbols like an ancient alien artefact.

Traditionally, this clarity comes from strong, simple rules, but equally important is how the components themselves convey information. After all, if the board looks like a tax form designed by chaos theorists, no amount of good rules will save you and this tends to be the case in many civilisation-building games.

Fortunately, this is where Epoch positively beams with competence. From the cards to the player aids, from the iconography to the general visual presentation, everything is crisp, readable, and, dare one say, rather attractive. It carries a certain aesthetic familiarity that fans of Sid Meier’s work will recognise immediately, as if the game itself quietly aspires to be invited over for tea with Civilization and not embarrass itself.

And it succeeds. This is a production that balances beauty with functionality in a way that feels almost suspiciously well thought out. You will, after all, be staring at this game for several hours, possibly long enough to begin assigning personalities to your resource tokens, so it’s rather important that the experience is visually pleasant. (There are, one suspects, entire galaxies that have been abandoned for less.)

There is no question that Epoch is a sprawling game with tons of “things” on the board, which can be quite intimidating for the average board gamer. This is rather misleading because, despite the very busy board, Epoch is a pretty straightforward game you might compare to your average Euro in terms of complexity.

Like most civilization games, Epoch isn’t something you’ll casually throw onto the table on a whim. It demands time, attention, and a willingness to explain rules to your friends that may, at some point, sound like you are describing the tax policies of a small but determined nation. However, thanks to excellent organisation and intuitive design, the learning curve is far gentler than it could have been. The same game with lesser components would have been far more complex.

In fact, during my very first play, I already felt surprisingly in control, an unsettling sensation in a genre that usually delights in making you feel like a confused ruler shouting at maps. By the second play, it was all strategy, all the time. And much of that ease comes down to components that are not just well-designed, but designed for use.

Well done indeed. Top marks here, no need to consult the Guide on this one.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros:  It nails civilization building with class while including things that are often omitted in other Civilisation-building games.

Cons: It’s missing historical figures, with technological progress being a heavily abstracted concept that has little impact on the game beyond resource collection.

I suspect this section can be handled with the sort of efficiency normally reserved for highly competent civil servants and improbably well-organised galaxies.

The theme of Epoch: Course of Cultures is civilization-building and history, and I’m pleased to report that it achieves this with very little fuss and a reassuring amount of success. It looks like a civilization game, it plays like a civilization game, and, most importantly, it feels like a civilization game while you’re sitting at the table making questionable long-term decisions. In short: it does exactly what it says on the tin, which is more than can be said for a surprising number of things in the universe.

That said, there is a small crack in the otherwise polished marble.

One of the great joys of the genre is the sense that each civilization has its own identity. That playing Persia should feel meaningfully different from playing Egypt, beyond simply having a different colour and a slightly more exotic name to mispronounce.

Epoch gestures in this direction, offering each nation a minor, slightly quirky advantage you can develop over time. It’s a nice touch, pleasant, even, but its impact on the actual gameplay is… modest. So modest, in fact, that you may find yourself forgetting who is playing what entirely, which is rarely a good sign in a game about civilizations and their supposedly rich identities.

These differences don’t meaningfully steer your strategy, nor do they create distinct playstyles. You won’t find yourself passionately debating the merits of one civilization over another, or dramatically declaring, “Ah, but you see, this is exactly what the Persians would do.” Instead, everyone is essentially playing the same game with very slightly different accents.

There is also a noticeable absence of historical figures. No great leaders, no visionary scientists, no wildly overconfident generals making bold claims about invading Russia in winter. It’s a small thing, perhaps, but these human elements often provide a strong sense of connection to history, anchors that make the experience feel less abstract and more alive.

I think Through The Ages is the king of themes when it comes to Civilization builders, mainly because it’s so all-inclusive of the tropes that you hope to find in a Civilization building game. From the people, wonders, techs and buildings, everything has that Sid Meier feel to it, and this is despite the fact that the game doesn’t feature a map at all.

Here, the world of Epoch is curiously… people-less. Civilizations rise, expand, and occasionally go to war, but they do so without the guiding presence of anyone you might recognise from a textbook, or indeed, from a particularly enthusiastic documentary narrator.

It’s not a dealbreaker by any means. The theme works. It lands. But it never quite reaches that smile-inducing moment where everything clicks and you feel like you’re part of a grand historical tapestry. It doesn’t have that “role-playing” aspect of running a personality.

It’s more… a very well-organised spreadsheet of history. Perfectly functional. Just missing a few memorable personalities and faces.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Solid, streamlined framework that makes the game easy to teach and learn, making it a far more approachable civ builder than the vast majority of its competition.

Cons: It doesn’t really compete with the classics, it’s a fun alternative, but it’s not going to replace anything.

A proper civilization game, in my view, must achieve three things, rather like a good cup of tea, except vastly more complicated and with a higher likelihood of military conflict.

First, it must deliver a genuine sense of growth and expansion. Not just numbers going up (though we do love a good number), but a feeling that your civilization is becoming something distinct. Your choices should matter. Your path should diverge. You should feel, at least in some small but satisfying way, that you are carving your own slightly questionable decisions into the annals of history.

Second, it ought to feel grounded in history, or at least in something that politely waves in history’s general direction. Playing as different civilizations should feel different. Whether you lean into military dominance, technological supremacy, or industrial might, there should be a strategic identity to your choices, and ideally a way to feel quite smug about them when they work.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, it needs to hold up over repeated plays. A civilization game that can be “solved” is about as useful as a guidebook that confidently tells you the restaurant is at the end of the universe but forgets to mention it’s closed on Tuesdays. There must be room for variation, for adaptation, for strategies that evolve based on circumstances rather than habit. There has to be a way for a local meta to form, and the game must have built-in ways to challenge and reforge that meta without expansions. That is the only way to get replayability long-term with a Civilization game.

Now, achieving all of this in a single board game is, frankly, a bit unreasonable. But that is the burden of the genre. When you are competing with giants like Through the Ages and Western Empires, the inevitable closing line of any review tends to be, “It was very good… but X or Y Civ Builder does it better.”

So, where does Epoch land? Well, rather respectably, actually.

It doesn’t kick down the doors of the genre and declare itself emperor, but it does bring enough interesting ideas to justify its place at the table. One of the most notable things it does is reintroduce something many modern civilization games have quietly abandoned: the map.

Not having a map as part of a Civilization building game was a trend created by Through The Ages, and for a time it caught on, which included games like Nations and Age of Innovation, for example. A map brings a much higher level of design complexity, eliminating it is a clean way to avoid some of those traps. It works for some games, but it does feel like something is missing from the experience, even when it works.

It is not just a decoration here. This is, gloriously, a game about actual presence, about being somewhere, owning territory, and occasionally sending small, determined groups of people to stand on it and argue with other groups of people. Much like Western Empires, there is very much a “dudes on a map” experience.

This is important because somewhere along the way, designers occasionally forget that Sid Meier’s Civilization, the grand inspiration for much of the genre, is, in many ways, also a war game. Position matters. Resources matter. Territory matters. And, crucially, these things can be taken away from you by someone who has decided your empire looks a bit too comfortable.

Epoch understands this, it embraces it.

War is present, impactful, and, importantly, expensive. Starting a conflict is not something you do lightly, unless you are either (a) winning and feeling confident, or (b) losing and feeling vindictive. Both are valid historical precedents.

Dudes on a map are handled quite simply with cubes in Epoch, as the actual military strength elements are driven by cards you can purchase. This makes the execution of war simple, but the strategy behind it, when you should do it, how you should do it etc.., that is an entirely different question. Even after several plays, it was not clear to me where war falls in Epoch so far as strategy goes.

There are two main approaches: a more measured declaration that gives your opponent time to prepare, or a full “I have made a terrible decision and will now commit to it immediately” war-monger stance that lets you attack anyone at once. Both options carry consequences, both reshape the board, and both inject the game with a delicious sense of tension.

Now, a brief warning: Epoch has what might be described as an “old-school personality.” Player interaction can feel… direct. Occasionally pointed. At times, even a bit mean. If you are accustomed to modern board games where conflict is more of a polite disagreement than a full-blown geopolitical incident, this may come as a shock. Personally, I think it’s wonderful. But consider yourself warned, this is less pillow fight, more street brawl conducted with spreadsheets.

Perhaps the most elegant part of the design, however, is how it condenses the entire 4X experience, explore, expand, exploit, exterminate, into a single, streamlined core game loop.

You play a card. You take an action. That’s it.

And yet, that one action encapsulates everything: production, development, technology, expansion, trade, governance, and the general sense that you are somehow both in control and one poor decision away from ruin. Each move feels significant. Each turn alters the board in a meaningful way. You are not idly passing time; you are doing things, and they matter.

I especially liked the handling of government in Epoch. Each government type comes with unique benefits ot the exclusion of other possible selections. It’s a tough choice and needs to be made in cohesion with the rest of your general strategy. There is no going back and making a mistake here can be quite costly.

It’s immensely satisfying.

More importantly, it’s intuitive. Unlike some of its more illustrious cousins, Epoch doesn’t require a lengthy lecture on “how to actually play well” after you’ve learned the rules. You understand what you want to do almost immediately. By your second game, you’re strategising with confidence rather than fumbling through historical guesswork.

This is, frankly, one of its greatest strengths as it is often a key weakness in even the best of the civilisation-building genre games. I love my Western Empires, but unless you have played it a dozen times, I’m going to crush you so badly you’re going to think the game is broken, and there is no shortcut to that education but repeat plays. Epoch is clever enough to avoid that problem.

Randomness, another traditional troublemaker in the genre, is handled with a commendable degree of restraint. Yes, the map can favour some players over others (as maps, and indeed life, tend to do), but the advantages are never so overwhelming that you can predict the winner from the opening placement. The game provides enough tools for clever play to overcome a less-than-ideal start, which is exactly how it should be.

That said, no civilization game escapes compromise, and Epoch is no exception.

The most noticeable absence is the tech tree, that beloved web of dependencies where one discovery unlocks another in a satisfying chain of progress. Here, technology is far more abstract. You invest in it, you gain benefits, but you’re not building toward specific unlock paths in the traditional sense. There’s no “research pottery to unlock granaries” moment. It’s more fluid, less structured, and for some players, that will feel like something is missing.

While I was not a huge fan of Fantasy Flight Games, Sid Meiers Civilization, it did include the tech tree in a hierarchy, and that felt quite right to me. You got a strong sense of progress, and “tech advantage” was a concept built into the game.

Wonders, too, lack a certain… well, wonder. Rather than grand, multi-turn projects that define your civilization, they are more transactional, appearing, being purchased, and providing benefits without much ceremony. There is no standing atop your cardboard empire declaring yourself a golden god of architecture. It’s all a bit more… efficient.

War, while excellent in concept, also carries an interesting limitation: it is often too expensive to be used as a precise strategic tool. Instead, it tends to emerge at the extremes, either from a dominant player pressing their advantage, or from a struggling one lashing out in desperation. The nuanced, tactical “check your opponent” war is less common, simply because your resources are usually better spent elsewhere as this is still a game about victory points.

And yet, despite all of this, it works.

The game remains deeply strategic, richly interactive, and thoroughly engaging. Resource management is meaningful, positioning matters, and the sense of building something over time is both tangible and rewarding. It ticks a remarkable number of boxes for a 4X civilization game, even if it approaches some of them from unusual angles.

There is certainly room for expansion, perhaps a bit more depth in certain systems, a touch of refinement here and there, but what’s already here is compelling.

In short: it’s a civilization worth building again.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Plenty of reasons to play it several times, lots to explore.

Cons:  There is a cap somewhere, some limit before you shelv it and never come back to it,  this is not an instant repeatable classic.

It may not be entirely fair, but civilization games carry with them a certain grandeur. They are not simply games; they are events. And when you reach for one on the shelf, you are not just picking something to play, you are making a decision of mild historical importance.

That decision, in my experience, is governed by two variables:
How much time do you have, and how many players are involved?

Tell me those two things, and I will tell you which civilization game to play with the quiet confidence of someone who has spent far too long thinking about this.

Many of these “slots” are already occupied by titans.
Large group, plenty of time? Western Empires, no hesitation.
Small group, plenty of time? Through the Ages, a masterpiece.
Large group, limited time? Nations will do the job admirably.

The awkward gap, the one that has always been a bit of a problem, is small player count with limited time. This is the Bermuda Triangle of civilization games, where ambition goes in and slightly disappointing “filler” experiences come out. Sadly, Epoch doesn’t quite solve this particular cosmic mystery either.

Instead, it settles into the 3–4 players, ample time category, which places it in direct, and rather bold, comparison with Through the Ages and Nations, just to name a couple.

Now, this might sound like a dangerous place to be, but here’s the interesting part: Epoch holds its ground surprisingly well.

In fact, it has a distinct advantage. Games like Through the Ages, as brilliant as they are, can be notoriously unforgiving to new players. Your first few games often feel less like building a civilization and more like being politely but firmly dismantled by someone who understands the system better. Nations can suffer from a similar issue.

Epoch, on the other hand, is refreshingly approachable. It’s intuitive. New players can sit down, grasp the flow, and feel competitive far more quickly. With a bit of light strategic guidance, you can have a genuinely good experience right out of the gate, which is, frankly, a rare and valuable trait in this genre.

It also tends to run a bit shorter than both Through the Ages and Nations, making it a strong candidate when you want something substantial, but not life-schedulingly so. And compared to other games attempting to fill this niche, such as various adaptations of Sid Meier’s board game, it stands out as the more compelling option.

Epoch is a very busy game with a lot of levers, it certainly falls into the “heavy” category by most people’s standards, but I would argue for how involved the game looks, it’s considerably simpler than that. If you’re accustomed to playing Heavy Euro’s, you’re not going to find this game complicated at all. It’s actually pretty straightforward.

So yes, there is absolutely a place for Epoch on the shelf.

The more difficult question is: how long does it stay there?

After three plays, I found myself in an interesting position. I hadn’t exhausted the strategic possibilities, nor had I identified any clearly dominant paths to victory. The game is dynamic enough to keep things engaging, but at the same time, the overall experience didn’t vary as dramatically from session to session as one might hope.

The map provides the most noticeable variation, but not to the extent that it fundamentally reshapes your approach. You adapt, certainly, but you don’t reinvent.

My instinct, always a slightly unreliable but occasionally insightful companion, suggests that after perhaps six to ten plays, the game may begin to lose a bit of its novelty.

Now, to be fair, that is not a damning criticism. Most games do not survive more than a handful of table appearances. In fact, if a game sees five plays, it is already outperforming a significant portion of the hobby.

But civilization games are not most games.

This is a genre where longevity is king. Where titles like Through the Ages can be played a hundred times over a decade, and Western Empires, despite requiring what feels like a small lifetime to complete, still returns to the table again and again because of that glorious grandeur.

By that standard, Epoch may fall just short of true immortality.

It is absolutely replayable. It is enjoyable. It earns its place.
But whether it will still be called upon ten years from now, with the same enthusiasm reserved for the genre’s greatest legends, I find unlikely. It lacked that true… umpf! A terrible description, but fans of Civ games know what I’m talking about here.

Conclusion

Epoch: Course of Cultures is, without question, a very good game. If what you’re after is an engaging, strategic experience wrapped in a historical civilization-building theme, and you don’t necessarily feel the need to compare everything to the sacred texts of the genre, then this is an easy recommendation. Particularly for Euro game fans, it delivers exactly the sort of tight decision-making, meaningful trade-offs, and competitive race for victory points that keeps the brain pleasantly occupied and occasionally mildly distressed.

It is thoughtful. It is strategic. It is, in all the right ways, a game that asks you to care about what you’re doing.

However, and this is where we gently adjust our monocle, if you are a full-fledged civilization-building enthusiast, the sort who speaks reverently of Through the Ages and Western Empires as though they were ancient and slightly temperamental deities, then Epoch may feel like it falls just short of true greatness.

Not because it does anything wrong, but because it doesn’t quite ascend to that rarefied level of “instant classic.” It is not, at least not yet, a card-carrying member of what can only be described as the Civilization Building Illuminati, a shadowy group of games that have achieved long-term dominance over gaming tables everywhere, and possibly influence global events (though this is difficult to verify).

That said, there is something important to note: I still very much want to play it again.

Epoch is a very engaging puzzle; there are plenty of moving parts that create depth in the strategy to keep you invested. I think its a good civilization game. It does not, however, dethrone any of the classics in my opinion. It’s kind of doomed to be an alternative to other Civ games I would rather play, given an allotted amount of time. No objections to playing Epoch, but if you ask me “What Civ Game do you WANT to play”, by default answer is not going to be Epoch.

After multiple plays, it hasn’t worn out its welcome. It hasn’t been solved, shelved, or quietly judged. It remains engaging, inviting, and, perhaps most importantly, fun. And in a genre that can occasionally take itself a bit too seriously, that counts for a great deal.

In fact, I would go so far as to say that Epoch feels almost tailor-made for digital play. A platform like Board Game Arena would suit it perfectly. Its streamlined action system, relatively low mechanical overhead, and clean structure would likely translate into a smooth online experience, one where a full game might be completed in about an hour, rather than requiring the careful scheduling of one’s social calendar and possibly a packed lunch.

And really, any civilization that can be built in an evening, or a very long lunch break, is doing something right.

So no, Epoch may not rewrite the history books of the genre. But it absolutely earns its place among them, and for many players, that will be more than enough.

Board Game Reviews, On The Table

On The Table: Great Western Trail: New Zealand

It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of Great Western Trail. It sits comfortably at number 10 on my all-time list, and it has held that spot ever since I first discovered it many moons ago.

Since the release of the second edition, two new entries have arrived. Until now, I had not managed to get either to the table. Great Western Trail: Argentina still manages to avoid me, but I finally got to try Great Western Trail: New Zealand.

And honestly, I was not prepared for how much I would enjoy it.

After just one play, I am already tempted to say something slightly controversial. This might actually be better than the original.

Great Western Trail 2nd edition did a fantastic job of tightening up the rules and creating a great, balanced experience. The game, however, does have quite a few static elements, which, if you play often enough, you will begin to see certain patterns emerge. It’s not a problem per say but I think for fans looking for something more robust, the other two Great Western Trail games (Argentina and New Zealand) are going to be great options to get some variety using the same system.

All the magic is still there. The familiar rhythm, the satisfying engine building, the constant push and pull of optimizing your route. But what New Zealand does is loosen the puzzle just enough to let the game breathe. It feels less like solving something fixed and more like navigating something alive.

Take the buildings, for example. At first glance, everything looks familiar. But then, halfway through the game, four of the neutral buildings flip. Suddenly, the board shifts under your feet. Plans that felt solid now need a second look. Routes that seemed optimal might not be anymore.

The new neutral buildings cover the same core game effects as before: buy more sheep, hire workers, build new buildings, but there are a few buildings that have two sides that switch on you mid-game and that is going to create a bit of chaos for people who are accustomed to the static state of buildings in the original game.

It is a small twist, but it has a big effect. The game nudges you out of autopilot and asks you to adapt. I love that.

Then there is the biggest change of all. The train is gone.

In its place, boats take over, and with them comes a much more flexible system. Instead of a straight line forward, you now have branching routes. You can move back and forth. You can pivot. You can chase opportunities instead of just advancing.

Progress is still important, but now it is a choice rather than a track you march along. It adds just enough freedom to make every decision feel more intentional.

And then there is shearing.

The shearing value on the sheep cards creates reason to hold on to duplicate cards you might have otherwise simply disregarded. Having sufficient sheep herders and several white sheep cards, for example, can yield a considerable payout. Being able to earn a considerable amount of coin mid-route is an effect that was usually quite impossible in the original game.

Since this is New Zealand, cows are out, and sheep are in. With that comes a new way to earn money during your turn. Hire shepherds, shear your sheep, and watch the gold roll in.

But it is more than just an extra income stream. It opens up an entirely new strategy. You can cycle your deck faster, trigger more effects, and lean into a style of play that feels very different from the traditional cattle focus.

There are also new layers built around this. Bonus cards that replace themselves. Tracks to advance on. Tiles that reward clever timing. None of these overwhelm the game, but together they create a web of possibilities that did not exist before.

These bonus cards can be added to your deck through different effects. Note that each one gives you a benefit, but then immediately replaces itself, so you don’t have to stress about having too many of these. Quite to the contrary, the more the better.

It all adds up to something that feels richer, busier, and more ambitious.

That said, this is not the version I would hand to a first time player. There is a lot going on here. If the original game is a deep strategy experience, this one feels like the advanced course. Familiarity helps a lot.

But if you already enjoy Great Western Trail, this is a fantastic evolution.

I have only played it once, so I am not ready to deliver a final verdict. But first impressions matter, and this one made a strong case.

Call me impressed. I am already looking forward to getting it back to the table.

Board Game Reviews, Collectable Card Game, Hidden Gems

Review: Kingdom Legacy – Feudal Kingdom

When my review copy of Fate: Defenders of Grimheim arrived in the mailbox, the folks over at FryxGames slipped in a little bonus: a low-footprint solo legacy card game from 2024 called Kingdom Legacy: Feudal Kingdom.

Naturally, that caught my attention immediately. Not only is it another Jonathan Fryxelius design (love!), but it’s actually part of a whole series of games. I love a good game series with lots of expansions. There is nothing quite like finding a game you enjoy and then having lots of avenues to explore!

Now, before we go any further, I should disclose something: I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder when it comes to legacy games.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the legacy games conceptually. But I also have a long-standing beef with one of their core components, which puts me in something of a philosophical quandary.

I adore the sense of discovery: opening secret packs, unlocking new rules, and watching the game evolve over time. That part is fantastic. What I don’t love is the idea of marking up boards and cards, tearing components apart, and ultimately playing through a game once before tossing the whole thing in the trash.

Ever since my experience with My City, which, incidentally, is one of my favorite legacy games to date, I’ve made it something of a personal mission to find ways to “cheat the system” and turn legacy games into replayable ones. In other words, I try to enjoy the legacy experience while quietly circumventing its main gimmick.

So when I opened Kingdom Legacy, the very first thing I did was exactly that: figure out how to bypass the whole “play it once” concept.

The most obvious and easiest way to circumvent the whole one-and-done legacy thing is to sleeve the cards and use a whiteboard pen instead of stickers. That effectively turns this legacy game into a replayable…for the lack of a better word, normal game.

My issue with disposable legacy games is really twofold.

First, if I discover a game I genuinely like, for which Kingdoms definitely qualifies, I’m probably going to want to play it more than once. As I learned with My City, simply buying another copy isn’t always an option. Games go out of print, sell out, or become difficult to find. Discovering a game you love, playing it once, and then being unable to replace it can be a frustrating experience.

Second, and perhaps more importantly, it just feels wrong to throw games away. It’s not really about the money; that part is mostly irrelevant to me. But there’s something inherently wasteful and eco-unfriendly about creating a product that is intentionally designed to become garbage. It’s the equivalent of putting bananas in plastic shrinkwrap. Why people? Why? Is there some kind of race to see how fast we can blow up our planet or something that I don’t know about?

Board games already require a fair amount of material to produce; the entire process is very ecosystem-unfriendly. There’s cardboard, paper, ink, plastic, shipping, the whole production chain has a pretty shitty footprint, especially since most things are made in China. Designing a game specifically to be destroyed after one playthrough feels… a little out of step with the spirit of the 21st century. There is enough crap going into the dump without us creating games with that sole purpose.

Alright, rant over.

The good news is that most legacy games aren’t particularly difficult to adapt if you want to make them replayable. Personally, I suspect the “destroy it as you play” concept is more of a marketing trend than a design necessity, and one that will fade over time.

With that said, let’s talk about Kingdom Legacy: Feudal Kingdoms.

I say that with a slightly raised eyebrow, because reviewing a legacy game is always tricky. A big part of the experience is exploration and discovery, uncovering new rules, cards, and surprises as you progress. Spoiling those elements in a review would unravel that fun, and I don’t want to do that.

So instead of giving away details, I’m going to focus on impressions and sensations. Think of this less as a traditional breakdown and more as a guided glimpse into what the experience feels like, without ruining the surprises.

With that in mind…

Let’s get into it.

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star (3.15 out 5) Good Game!

I always love it when I come across a game that’s difficult to compare to anything else. That usually means we’re dealing with a genuinely original idea, and Kingdom Legacy fits that description remarkably well.

At its core, it’s a solo card game, which on paper might not sound particularly groundbreaking. But the elegance of the design and the flow of the gameplay elevate it into something truly special.

The premise is simple: you are building a feudal kingdom from what feels like its absolute earliest beginnings, essentially planting a flag in the wilderness, and gradually developing it into a thriving micro-empire.

The game begins with a humble deck of just ten cards. Each round, you draw and play four cards face up, deciding how to use the resources on them and whether to upgrade one before they are all discarded. Then you draw four more and continue until your deck runs out.

These are your starting 10 cards as you open the box, which includes 139 cards. It’s a humble begining but before too long, these empty fields and forests are going to be a thriving feudal empire filled with people, structures, and much more.

Once the deck is empty, you reshuffle and begin a new cycle. But this time things are different. Some of your cards may have been upgraded, and two new cards have been added to your deck from a hidden stack, let’s call it the legacy stack.

And just like that, your kingdom grows.

Throughout the game you’ll also discover additional cards from the main hidden box, steadily expanding your deck and unlocking new possibilities. Each cycle through the deck represents another stage in the growth of your kingdom as you develop buildings, resources, people, and capabilities. The goal of the game is to score points, but there is no victory condition; you are effectively competing against everyone else playing the same game in a sort of ladder, which you can review online.

On the surface, the system is incredibly simple.

But once you start playing, you quickly realize that every decision, every card played, every upgrade chosen, every new discovery, nudges the game in a different direction. And thanks to the many surprises hidden within the legacy box, the experience becomes wonderfully varied and highly decision-driven, and quite personalized. Your experience can and will be quite different each run through.

In fact, the idea that this is a “play it once” legacy game, considering how dynamic things are, struck me as almost absurd after my first session.

I don’t just find playing Kingdom Legacy one time an absurd concept; I find that to be true with all the legacy games I have played. My City is one of my all-time favorites. I have played it through the campaign at least a dozen times. I don’t really understand the appeal of making games that you are supposed to play once and then toss. I love these games!

On the very first day I had the game, I had already completed a second run. By the end of the week, I had played through it four times, and I still wasn’t even close to feeling finished with it. A great sign for the game’s addictive nature, not particularly good as a legacy concept. With legacy games, I want to play them once, be satisfied, and be done with it. For it to feel unfinished, which is almost certainly going to be the case here, as if I’m missing out on something, that is a feel-bad moment.

This is a game that I simply could not put down. It was addictive, surprising, and consistently engaging. Even after multiple playthroughs, I was still discovering new cards and exploring different strategic approaches. I can’t imagine anyone being satisfied playing this game through just once.

Simply put, this game is quite brilliant.

I loved it from the word go, and I’m extremely glad I found a clever way to sidestep the “play it once” limitation (sorry, FryxGames!). If I hadn’t, I might have needed to buy this game ten times just to satisfy my curiosity, and even that might not have been enough.

There are quite a few mini and larger expansions for the game, so plenty to explore is already available for this one.

In fact, I actually think it would have negatively affected this review had I only played it once. The first go felt very unsatisfying. I realized a bunch of things about the game, and I was eager to correct my mistakes. Had I finished with the game at that moment, I think that addictive aspect would have waned into something I did once and moved on, which is what I usually do with games I don’t like.

This is a legacy game that begs to be played again and again. It’s clever, engaging, and endlessly fun. Even now as I write the review, I think I rather be playing it.

Without question, it’s one of the most enjoyable solo gaming experiences I’ve had in quite a while. Really great discovery.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Good quality cards, far better quality than you would expect for a game you are intended to play through once.  These cards will last.

Cons: It would have taken very little effort to un-legacy this game; it’s an unnecessary gimmick.

Since Kingdom Legacy is essentially a card game, there isn’t a huge amount to say about the components themselves, but what’s here is perfectly solid.

The card quality is more than adequate for the job, in fact, arguably, these cards are as good as any collectable card game you could buy. The artwork maintains a reasonably consistent aesthetic across the deck, and the rulebook is clear and easy to follow.

One particularly nice touch is the inclusion of a QR code that links to a tutorial video. The video is exceptionally well done and walks you through the basics quickly and clearly. After watching it, you’ll be more than ready to start playing.

Fryxgames does bang up job of supporting their games, the tutorial is one of the best I have seen for a game in a really long time. After watching it, you won’t need a rulebook.

There’s also an additional website that provides a card-by-card explanation of the entire deck. It’s almost overkill in terms of support, but it’s certainly appreciated, especially if you run into a card interaction that makes you pause for a moment.

All things considered, it’s a very competent production.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: The flow of time and empire building engine support the feeling of progression.  The card effects and thematic elements of the cards are on point.

Cons:  The use of A.I. art is going to annoy people; this is effectively an A.I. art-generated game; there is nothing original here.

The theme in Kingdom Legacy: Feudal Kingdoms is surprisingly strong for such a small card game. As you progress through the deck, you genuinely get the feeling that time is passing and your tiny outpost is slowly evolving into a functioning kingdom. That steady sense of growth taps directly into the addictive appeal of civilization-building games.

Each new round feels like another step in the development of your realm. You shuffle up, draw your cards, and start experimenting, trying to find clever ways to make your engine run just a little more efficiently. When everything lines up, and your kingdom starts humming along, it’s incredibly satisfying.

The game offers a surprising number of directions you can take your civilization. There are many ways to generate victory points and multiple development paths to pursue. In my experience, the most effective kingdoms tend to become broadly capable across several areas while leaning into one or two specialties.

Over repeated plays, I suspect most players will naturally gravitate toward their own preferred style of kingdom-building.

Even after several playthroughs, it’s difficult to say exactly how far you can push the scoring ceiling, but the important part is that the scoring system feels tightly connected to the theme. You are often faced with the classic “do I advance my engine or do I score points?” dilemma. In most cases, efficient expansion is the path to scoring more points, but eventually, you need to finish projects, which are the main way to get points. Growth and victory are closely intertwined, which reinforces the sense that you’re building a thriving realm rather than simply chasing numbers.

The artwork does a perfectly adequate job of representing the theme, though it’s obvious that all of it was generated using A.I. tools. The styles vary quite a bit, and the level of detail can fluctuate from card to card. The obvious is obvious here.

I’ve been fairly vocal about my position on A.I. art in games, and in short, it doesn’t bother me much. From a practical standpoint, it doesn’t impact gameplay. In a card-heavy game like this, hiring a team of illustrators would dramatically increase production costs, I get it. As it stands, Kingdom Legacy sells for around ten dollars. With fully commissioned artwork, that price could easily triple.

People are quite vocal about A.I. art, to the degree that if a game is discovered to be using it, people will not buy it on principle. While I personally don’t care, it doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of a game; I would not recommend it for professionally published games. A.I. Art is for freeware and print-to-play stuff; it’s for amateurs, not professionals.

Some people feel very strongly about the issue, and that’s fair. Personally, coming from an IT background, I tend to view A.I. as another step in technological evolution, something that will either find its place or fade away over time. Either way, it’s not a battle I feel particularly compelled to fight.

That said, from a purely artistic standpoint, A.I. art does tend to cap the ceiling a bit. At its best, it’s mediocre, but rarely exceptional. And because of that, it does have an impact on the overall presentation of the game.

I think the answer to A.I. art is, if you’re a publisher of professional games, don’t use A.I, period. Find another way.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Excellent card-building engine, very addictive, hard to put down, big design space to expand into.

Cons: You’re not going to be satisfied playing this as a legacy game once, like most legacy games.

At the heart of Kingdom Legacy is a deceptively simple idea: draw four cards and try to do something clever with them. But as the game unfolds, that simple premise gradually blossoms into a web of interesting decisions and opportunities.

Each round begins with those four cards, which represent the resources, actions, and opportunities available to you at that moment. Your goal is to combine them in ways that allow you to upgrade cards, expand your kingdom, or unlock new elements from the hidden deck.

One of the key decisions each round revolves around the Advance action. The catch is that whenever you upgrade a card, everything else in your hand is immediately discarded. That means a lot of the resources you generate in a turn will often go unused.

However, the Advance action lets you draw two additional cards into your pool. You can repeat this action multiple times if you wish, expanding your options, but the trade-off is that the more cards you draw this way, the fewer you’ll ultimately be able to use efficiently.

This simple decision point ends up driving much of the strategy. Ideally, you want to accomplish upgrades using only the original four cards. The more often you can do that, the more efficient your kingdom-building engine becomes.

When you play your opening hand at the start of the game, it’s not hard to imagine where the game is going. The coins on the top left are resources you have to spend, and the middle right shows you the cost to upgrade the card, which allows you to flip it for the improved version of it. This is kind of the core procedure in the game. The catch is that, regardless of how many resources you have, you can only upgrade 1 card, and then everything is discarded.

Another fascinating aspect of the design is how the card pool is structured. Roughly half of the cards in the game are not part of the standard legacy draw deck. While you might encounter around seventy cards during the normal flow of the game, the rest can only be accessed through specific upgrades or special effects.

In a typical playthrough, you might only acquire a third of those cards. That means if you play the game once and move on, as the traditional legacy format suggests, you’ll never even see a huge portion of the content.

Which is exactly why the “play it once” idea feels a bit absurd here.

There are 139 cards in the deck, but in an average game, you might see around 100 of them. If you played this game only once, you would be effectively throwing out close to 40 cards you never even saw or used. That is so strange to me, I can’t get my head around it.

Even after my sixth playthrough, I was still discovering cards I had never seen before.

On top of that, each card has four possible upgrade levels, and they’re not always linear. Some upgrades branch left or right, forcing you to choose between different development paths. Because of this branching structure, it’s practically impossible to see every upgrade chain in a single game.

This is why I described the game earlier as a kind of card-based crack. Once you start discovering new cards and exploring different upgrade paths, it becomes very hard to stop. I ended up playing 3-4 hours at a time.

Another important element of the game is the appearance of enemy cards in your deck. Without spoiling anything, these cards represent threats to your kingdom and can seriously hinder your development if left unresolved. Having a plan on how to deal with them is crucial to success.

The good news is that there are often multiple ways to deal with them. The game rarely forces you into a single solution. Instead, you’re constantly weighing different approaches and considering which path will serve your long-term strategy best.

And that’s really the beauty of the design. Very rarely are you staring at only one or two possible actions. Most turns involve several viable choices, each with its own risks and rewards.

For me, this is exactly what I want from a solo game: something thoughtful, puzzle-like, challenging, and highly replayable. Kingdom Legacy: Feudal Kingdoms absolutely nails that formula.

There is one minor issue worth mentioning, though it’s more of a physical component quirk than a gameplay problem.

The orientation of cards in your deck actually matters. As a result, when shuffling, you have to be careful to keep every card facing the same direction. Inevitably, at some point during play, you’ll drop a few cards, or perhaps the entire deck, and when that happens, it can be difficult to remember which way everything was facing.

Late in the game, especially, that can be a bit of a headache.

It’s not a major problem, but it does mean you’ll want to shuffle carefully and treat your deck with a little respect.

That small quirk aside, from a gameplay standpoint, Feudal Kingdoms is superbly designed.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: If you circumvent the legacy gimmick, this game is highly replayable with lots of expansions you can get into.

Cons: Like all legacy games, replayability is technically not a thing at all.

Feudal Kingdoms is an addictive game for all the classic reasons that empire-building games tend to be addictive. There’s that familiar “one more turn” feeling, the excitement of resetting and trying a different approach, and the satisfying sense of time passing as your tiny settlement slowly grows into something resembling a proper kingdom. All of that works together to make the game very easy to play repeatedly.

That said, this is a legacy game. If you strictly follow the intended “play it once and retire the game” philosophy, then the replayability score is effectively zero.

So this puts me in a bit of an awkward position when it comes to scoring replayability in the review.

If you approach the game the way I do, finding a way to keep everything reusable so you can play it multiple times, then the replayability is outstanding. Under that approach, I would easily rate it 5 out of 5 stars.

If, however, you follow the traditional legacy model and treat the game as a one-and-done experience, then what you really have is a 5–6 hour campaign. After that, the game has essentially completed its life cycle. Under that interpretation, the replayability score drops dramatically, probably to a 0 or 1 at best.

Even then, it’s worth noting that the value proposition is still pretty good. It’s honestly hard to think of many ways to entertain yourself for five or six hours for around ten bucks. So it would feel a little unfair to judge it too harshly purely on that basis.

In the end, I decided to split the difference. I scored it a 2, but applied a tilt of 1 so that the overall review isn’t overly penalized by a design choice that is, in many ways, inherent to the legacy format itself.

Conclusion

Whether you buy into the legacy model or not, for 10 bucks, this game is an absolute steal. I have already gotten more enjoyment out of it than most of the 40-50 dollar games on my shelf; it’s a fantastic value and an awesome night’s entertainment.

I do, however, think that circumventing the legacy thing is something you will want to do so that you can enjoy this game over and over again, and I do think most people will want to. It’s a great game, and it deserves repeated plays.

High recommendation from me, especially if you like empire-building games and don’t have any sort of affliction about playing a solo game. For me personally, it triggered an almost immediate response to buy up all of the other expansions for this game series, of which there are several.

Great game, great time

Board Game Reviews, Gaming Articles, On The Table

Syncanite Foundation: Impressions & Unboxing

UPDATE: A New Manual for Syncanite Foundation can be found here.

This afternoon, my mailbox delivered a rather pleasant surprise: a review copy of Syncanite Foundation. A new boardgame of cutthroat political conspiracy that was kick-started last year.

Now, to be clear, the surprise wasn’t that the game arrived. I was fully aware it was on its way, having worked with the marketing team handling review copies. The real surprise hit the moment I laid eyes on the box. Before a single component was revealed, Syncanite Foundation was already speaking my language and making a strong first impression with its awesome sci-fi fantasy vibe.

I’m a relatively small-time reviewer, with only occasional appearances in some real journalism, thanks largely to a few connections I have to the game industry by sheer accident. The result of that in the last 10 years has been a loyal audience and a steady group of regular readers, but most publishers I work with that send me review copies tend to be fairly niche affairs. Interesting, often clever, but clearly operating within a smaller production scope. This, however, felt a bit different even though Syncanite Games is indeed a very indie operation. The box alone radiated confidence: polished, striking, and unmistakably professional. This didn’t just feel like a passion project punching above its weight; it was more like a heavyweight newcomer stepping into the ring for the first time. A new kid on the block, sure, but in the immortal words of Micky Goldmil, “You ain’t no bum, you ain’t no chump.”

As I cracked open the box, it became immediately clear that this was a game made with serious intent. There’s a level of care, cohesion, and sheer love in the presentation that demands to be met halfway. This wasn’t something I could casually glance over. If the game was going to put in this much effort, the least I could do was put on my reviewer hat properly and reciprocate.

So, with expectations officially raised and curiosity fully engaged, let’s get into it. This is going to be a two-part article review. First, we will do a sort of first impressions and unboxing, where I will simply look, read, and explore the game, that’s today. The second article will be a full review I will put together after a few play sessions with my local gaming group.

Overview

Cracking open the box, I did what I almost always do first: I reached for the rulebook. Not out of habit alone, but because I genuinely had no idea what Syncanite Foundation actually was. This isn’t a game riding on the coattails of a well-known franchise, yet from the moment you lift the lid, it’s obvious that this thing wants to be more than just cardboard and plastic. There is magic here. My instincts, as it turns out, were right on the money.

Pretty is an understatement; Syncanite Foundation laid out on the table is art.

The artwork immediately suggests a strange crossroads between science fiction and fantasy. At first glance, I caught faint echoes of Final Fantasy in the aesthetic, ornate, confident, and unapologetically dramatic. That impression lasted about five minutes. Once you start reading, it becomes very clear that this isn’t borrowing a skin from somewhere else. Whatever this is, it’s very much its own beast, an original work perhaps inspired by but not photocopied from other sources.

The introduction reads less like a rulebook and more like the opening chapter of a novel. The prose flows, sets a tone, and gently reminds you that you’re stepping into a fully realized world rather than learning how to push cubes around a board. It’s here that the curtain lifts: Syncanite Foundation is set in The World of Arkanite, a setting originally created as a novel and now being expanded into something far more ambitious, all by the confident hand of a designer with a plan. From the looks of it, this isn’t just a board game release; it’s a deliberate attempt to build a larger media universe. With a polished website, extensive lore, and clear narrative intent, this feels like a foundation stone rather than a one-off project. A respectful nod to the designer here: this is how you do worldbuilding.

One of my favorite things that publishers do is to create lore for a board game and give it proper treatment. Twilight Imperium’s Guide To The Imperium is a fantastic example.

I’ll admit, I’m an easy mark for games with a strong narrative backbone. I want my mechanics supported by meaning, my components backed by context. Syncanite Foundation wastes no time delivering exactly that. When I sit down to teach this game, we will be starting with story time, and that is going to resonate with my gaming crew, who are all avid role-players.

So what is this world about?

Without claiming deep knowledge just yet, it’s hard not to see familiar inspirations bubbling beneath the surface. There’s more than a hint of Dune in the way power revolves around a single, world-shaping resource. Touches of Game of Thrones appear in the ruthless political maneuvering, while the shadowy, authoritarian edge made me briefly wonder if a bit of Judge Dredd snuck in through the back door. At its core, this is a game about oligarchs, powerful figures who never sit on thrones, but who quietly decide who does. They pull strings, shape conflicts, and bend the world to their will… all while competing with each other for supremacy.

That competition centers around Syncanite itself: a miraculous, dangerous crystal that fuels industry, progress, and influence. Like the spice of Dune, Syncanite is less about what it is and more about what it represents. Control it, and you control the future. But, and this is important, it’s not the endgame. It’s simply the spark that lights the powder keg.

A steam entry for Syncanite Foundation can be found for a digital version of the game in the works, which speaks to the ambitions of its designers.

All of this lays the groundwork for what feels like a genuinely strong narrative-driven strategy game. Interestingly, while it shares no real mechanical DNA with Twilight Imperium, it gave me a similar vibe. Not in scope, mechanics or length, but in philosophy. War doesn’t seem to be the point here. Conflict is a tool, not a goal. The real game is intention: reading the table, manipulating perceptions, making promises you don’t intend to keep, and choosing the exact right moment to make your final move. This is supported by the core win objectives in the game, there are no victory points or progression-based conditions, it’s a winner-takes-all game, and anyone can win at any time by meeting one of the game’s politically fueled objectives.

Victory conditions are tied to one of five events that trigger under certain board game states. These events alter the rules of the game and can exist simultaneously. This speaks to the potential dynamics of the game and player impact. I love the concept.

Even from a first read-through of the rules, it’s obvious that Syncanite Foundation is going to live and die by table talk. Accusations, alliances, bluffs, quiet deals, and that inevitable moment where someone leans back and says, “Fine. Let’s do this.” All promises between the nuance of rules and the intended playstyle of the game.

All told, this feels like exceptionally solid footing for something special. Expectations are set, curiosity is high, and I am more than ready to get this one to the table.

The Components

Board gaming in the 21st century, especially anything with a Kickstarter pedigree, immediately triggers a small internal alarm for me. Years of experience have conditioned me to be cautious. I’ll say this plainly: I would rather play an ugly-as-sin cube pusher with brilliant design than an overproduced, miniature-stuffed spectacle that mistakes excess for depth. I’m a gamer first. Eye candy is a very distant second.

That said… reality has a way of complicating principles.

If you glance at my collection, you’ll find more than a few games that are undeniably gorgeous. Because the truth is, I don’t want to choose. I want both. I want a sharp design and visual presence. And if I’m being completely honest, even excellent games that are hard on the eyes tend to get passed over when it’s time to decide what hits the table. A game can be good, but if it looks like homework, it’s fighting an uphill battle.

All of which brings us to Syncanite Foundation, a game that wastes absolutely no time announcing itself as a looker.

Whoever oversaw the art direction, component choices, and final production had a clear, confident vision, and more importantly, an understanding of what modern board gamers expect visually. Every decision here feels deliberate. One can only hope (and I genuinely do) that this level of care extends just as deeply into the gameplay.

Because make no mistake: this is a stunning production. Not “nice.” Not “solid.” Stunning. This game is, quite frankly, a work of art.

Component quality is excellent across the board. Cards, tokens, and the main board all feel premium and durable, clearly built to survive repeated plays rather than a single unboxing glow. That said, this level of quality is increasingly the baseline expectation these days. Cutting corners on materials is no longer acceptable, so I’d frame this less as exceeding expectations and more as confidently meeting them.

One thing I always look for in any board game is the ability to assess the game state with a quick glance. The way markets are handled with cubes and a little tray makes looking up prices of goods quick and easy. Simple and straight to the point.

Where Syncanite Foundation truly flexes is in its artistic ambition.

The main board features richly detailed, geographically inspired digital artwork that is nothing short of gorgeous. Despite the visual density, clarity never suffers. Lines are crisp, iconography is readable, and information is presented cleanly, exactly what you want in a game that expects players to stare at the board for hours.

The tokens follow suit. Each is visually distinct, satisfyingly weighty, and just tactile enough to invite idle fiddling. They come surprisingly close to that coveted “poker chip” feel, the universal gold standard of board game tactility.

But the real showstopper here is the cards.

The artwork, line work, and layout are lavish to the point of indulgence. These aren’t just functional components; they’re miniature paintings. Each card feels like it deserves a pause, a moment to be appreciated before being put to work.

The cards are beautiful, there is no doubt, but the black cards with glossy, foil text make reading them very painful. Fortunatetly only select cards are done in this foil style, but as a whole, the legibility of cards is a pain. Its a real shame.

One problem this game will always have is that even with glasses, I struggle to comfortably read the cards, a terrible sin and flaw that undoes some of that extraordinary artistic effort. The choice of white text on a black background, while undeniably stylish and maybe even thematically appropriate, is a nightmare. Add to it that some cards are black with gold foil writing, and you’re quite literally pulling out a magnifying glass to read some of the cards. It’s a bit of a tragedy.

The Rules & Rulebook

The original rulebook that came with the game was a bit of a mess, but an updated rulebook was released (v 3.2) as of this writing that attempts to address the issues of the original.

As it stands, the rulebook included in the box does not actually teach you how to play Syncanite Foundation. Nor does it provide functional setup instructions. What it does offer is a high-level overview of the game’s ideas and intentions, almost as if it assumes the existence of a second, missing document that handles the practical business of actually getting the game to the table.

That overview, despite lacking instruction, is genuinely well written, the manual laid out well, and worth a read as a preview to the digital document available online (here).

A manual with a nice presentation that sets the tone, gives a good overview of a game, and sets the stage for an exciting tabletop experience is absolutely critical to the success of a game, in my opinion. I see it as something extra that should come in addition to a rules reference. Some companies have normalized this, and I would love to see more of it.

It’s evocative, inspiring, and a pleasure to read. It successfully communicates tone, ambition, and theme, and it left me excited to play. Unfortunately, when you reach the final page, that excitement gives way to confusion. You’re left wondering if a rules reference accidentally fell out of the box. As a teaching document, it’s simply insufficient. You cannot set up or play the game using this book alone. Fortunatetly the, the updated digital rulebook is the answer; it brings the game into alignment with the ambitions laid out in the one that comes in the box and gives you the needed instructions.

At its core, Syncanite Foundation appears to operate across a series of structured phases where players claim territory, gather resources, and leverage those resources to advance long-term agendas tied to distinct victory conditions. Much of this is done by manipulating the board state through influence cards and effects.

Where the game truly seems to come alive, however, is in its free-form political layer.

Negotiation, table talk, and outright manipulation aren’t just encouraged, they’re assumed. Influence cards can be played at almost any time, regardless of turn order. You can interrupt, retaliate, or derail plans mid-conversation. There’s something delightfully unhinged about the idea that someone can cut you off mid-sentence with a card that completely alters the situation. Conceptually, I love this. It carries a strong role-playing energy and leans hard into player-driven narrative.

You can see that clarity of writing is not Syncanites Foundations strength. Even in the game material like the Cycle Chronicle Guide, English and German are commonly mixed up, with elements not translated properly. In reality, this is not a big deal, but it illustrates a rush to release, rather than to perfect.

It also firmly places the game in what I’d call the “mean” category.

This is not a gentle experience. If the rules deliver on their promise, Syncanite Foundation will sit comfortably alongside games like Diplomacy or Game of Thrones: The Board Game, where betrayal isn’t a possibility; it’s a requirement. Ruthless play isn’t antisocial here; it’s the engine that drives the game.

For my group, that’s pure gold. We enjoy confrontational designs with sharp edges and “take that” mechanics, provided everyone at the table understands the social contract: this is a game, not a personality test. But years of gaming have also taught me that not every group can handle that style of play. If you tend to take setbacks personally, or if direct player aggression sours the mood, this game may very well bounce off you, though it’s far too early to make any final judgments. We will see how this pans out when I do the final review after a few play-throughs.

Mechanically, though, I’m deeply intrigued.

While comparisons are inevitable, Syncanite Foundation ultimately feels like a bit of a white elephant design, something unusual, ambitious, and difficult to neatly categorize. In that sense, it reminds me strongly of the work of Vlaada Chvátil, particularly titles like Through the Ages, Galaxy Trucker, and Mage Knight. Games that are unapologetically themselves, full of bold ideas, and largely incomparable to anything else on the shelf.

That kind of ambition is exactly what excites me as a gamer.

Conclusion

Syncanite Foundation is, without question, a visual feast. It presents a bold, confident concept and carries with it an enormous amount of potential. I genuinely want this game to succeed, and I’m eager to get it to the table. But art and enthusiasm alone doesn’t make a game playable or good. I can be a tough critic when it comes to gameplays, especially if you get my hopes up and make no mistakes, you’ve got me excited, Syncanite Foundation, the pressure is on!

An extraordinary amount of effort has clearly gone into the presentation, the worldbuilding, and the physical production. All admirable and original efforts worthy of praise and attention. Now it’s time for the real test, the mechanics and gameplay, to see if the game delivers on its promise.

With an updated rulebook freshly printed out, a game session scheduled and an excited crew already hyped up from my depiction of the game, it’s time to play some Syncanite Foundation!

UPDATE: A New Manual for Syncanite Foundation can be found here.



Best of List, Board Game Reviews

10 Amazing Games No One Knows About

In the modern board-gaming landscape, new releases don’t just “come out”, they burst forth in a tidal wave, fueled by Kickstarter dreams, indie ambitions, and the eternal hope that this design will finally be the one that breaks through. With hundreds of amateur publishers and small creators tossing their hats into the ring, it’s become all but impossible to keep up with everything hitting the shelves.

To put it in perspective: this year alone, over 500 new board games dropped on BGG. Five hundred! Even if you made board gaming your full-time job and played a new title every single day of the year, you’d still fall short. And you’d also probably lose all your friends, because scheduling that many game nights is basically a war crime.

In this chaotic release environment, countless titles slip through the cracks, many deservedly so… but plenty of these are absolute gems that simply never found their audience. And that’s where today’s list comes in.

We went spelunking through the forgotten tunnels of board-game obscurity to dig up 10 fantastic games you’ve probably never even heard of, but absolutely should have.

Welcome to today’s topic: 10 Board Games No One Knows About. Let’s shine a light on the lost, the overlooked, and the criminally underplayed. In no particular order!

New Angeles (2016) – BGG Rank 1561

New Angeles is what happens when you mix corporate greed, city management, light backstabbing, and a cooperative game night that absolutely won’t stay cooperative.

Set in the Android universe, players take on the roles of mega-corporations shaping the future of a glittering sci-fi metropolis. Everyone has the same broad goal, to keep the city from collapsing into chaos, but each corporation has very different ideas on what “helping” looks like. And, of course, one player is secretly a Federalist whose only job is to watch the city burn.

Mechanically, it’s incredibly approachable. Each round, players propose agendas, essentially the policies the city will follow that turn, and then argue, plead, negotiate, and occasionally bribe their tablemates into voting for their preferred option. The whole experience plays out like a futuristic city council meeting where everyone is both a lobbyist and a special interest group.

The fun isn’t in complex systems or dense rules, the fun is in the conversation. Every vote becomes a mini political debate. Every agenda becomes a chance to sway the room. And every round becomes a tense balancing act between helping the city, helping yourself, and trying to figure out if that one player who keeps making bad decisions is incompetent or just the Federalist.

It’s dynamic, it’s social, it’s narratively rich, and it’s honestly one of the most underappreciated designs of 2016. If you love games where interaction is the real engine, New Angeles is a masterpiece hiding in plain sight.

Condottiere (1995) – BGG Rank 1034

There are a lot of trick-taking games in the world, enough to fill a small museum or at least a very judgmental shelf. But I’ll say this without hesitation: Condottiere is the best trick-taking game that ever briefly shined, vanished, and left most of the hobby tragically unaware of its brilliance.

It’s themed around the late-medieval Italian Renaissance, but does not require a working knowledge of 15th-century mercenary politics to enjoy it. That odd theme, however, is probably why half the gaming world missed this one entirely. But do yourself a favor, don’t let the dusty history-book veneer scare you off.

What makes Condottiere special is its razor-sharp blend of trick-taking and area control. Winning battles on the map requires winning tricks, but the real strategy comes from managing your hand over multiple rounds, playing the long game, and anticipating how every card you commit or hold back, will shape your eventual path to conquest. It’s a simple to learn, deeply strategic card game, filled with the kind of “I can’t believe you just did that” table moments that only smart card games can produce.

Despite its rules fitting into a three-minute explanation, Condottiere is a game you’ll return to for years, trying to unravel its layers. Psychology plays as big a role as the cards themselves. Bluffing, tempo, reading opponents, timing your retreats, it all matters.

It’s beautiful, elegant, endlessly replayable, and somehow still the trick-taking masterpiece no one talks about. If you love the genre, this is the one game you absolutely need in your collection. This is THE trick-taking game lovers of the genre must own!

XCOM: The Board Game (2015) BGG RANK 1003

Based on the beloved (and occasionally soul-crushing) XCOM PC series, XCOM: The Board Game takes the digital classic’s signature panic-inducing time pressure and somehow makes it even more stressful, in a good way. While the video game might not be universally known outside PC circles, it’s still a major piece of gaming history, and the board game leans hard into the two core pillars that made its digital ancestor so memorable.

First, XCOM has always been about time. The alien invasion escalates, the clock is ticking, and you’re constantly forced to act before you’re really ready. That’s central to the video game, and brilliantly recreated on the tabletop.

Second, it’s about scarcity. Not enough money, not enough soldiers, not enough satellites, and certainly not enough calm among the players as they frantically try to hold the planet together with duct tape and prayer.

The board game captures both elements by doing something almost unheard of in traditional strategy titles: it’s played in real time with an app barking orders at you. No leisurely planning, no “give me a minute to think,” no zen-like strategizing. Instead, players take on specialized roles, Commander, Squad Leader, Central Officer, Chief Scientist, and must make rapid decisions that directly affect each other, often without enough time to actually talk things through. You simply have to trust your teammates… or at least hope they won’t accidentally doom the planet.

Surprisingly, the app remains unpredictable even after multiple plays. Unlike many app-driven titles that eventually fall into patterns, XCOM keeps the tension high and the threats variable.

The result is a glorious mash-up of party-game panic and cooperative strategic depth. It’s fast, frantic, and far more engaging than most people expected, which makes its lukewarm reception all the more baffling. Honestly, the only thing missing is a hidden traitor role. A saboteur would have been chef’s kiss, especially once a group has mastered the basics and the difficulty starts to dip.

Still, even without the extra chaos, XCOM: The Board Game is a wildly underrated gem that delivers one of the most unique cooperative experiences out there.

Red Rising (2021) BGG Rank 1035

A lot of games on this list make me raise an eyebrow when I see how low they rank, but Red Rising? Honestly, I get it. My first play left me pretty unimpressed, and if someone in my group hadn’t insisted we give it another shot, I might have walked away thinking it was all style and no substance. Thankfully, I was very wrong.

The theme certainly didn’t help its visibility, Red Rising is based on a relatively obscure sci-fi novel series of the same name (which, for the record, is fantastic and absolutely worth reading). But don’t worry: prior knowledge of space aristocracies and color-coded castes is not required to enjoy the game.

Mechanically, Red Rising is a deck-crafting card game with a dash of resource management, but the real hook is the interplay between the cards you pick and the cards you leave behind. Every card in your hand is a potential point engine, combo, or strategy, but everything you don’t take becomes an opportunity for someone else. The board develops into a kind of communal buffet where every choice you make can feed an opponent if you’re not careful.

There’s a subtle push-and-pull as you manipulate the stacks on the board while shaping your own hand, and the tension ramps up thanks to an intentionally fuzzy end-game trigger. You never quite know how many turns you have left to perfect your hand, so there’s constant pressure to stay flexible and ready for the game to end at any moment.

It’s surprisingly thinky. The pieces themselves aren’t individually mind-blowing, and the first play or two can feel chaotic, almost random. But once you understand how the card synergies mesh and how the timing works, the game snaps into focus. Suddenly, it becomes a fascinating little puzzle with far more depth than you’d expect.

I won’t claim Red Rising is a misunderstood masterpiece, but it is a clever, unique card game doing things you rarely see elsewhere, and it deserved far more attention than it ever got.

Nations The Dice Game (2014) BGG 1237

Nations: The Dice Game belongs to a very sacred category I like to call:
“Games That Replace Games I Despise but Non-Gamers Keep Asking For.” And in this case, the villain is Yahtzee, a game I have played far more times than any human should, entirely against my will, simply because people like rolling dice and praying for six-of-a-kind.

Enter Nations: The Dice Game, a civilization builder that also involves rolling dice and hoping for the best… but with this miraculous addition: actual strategy. You can mitigate luck. You can plan ahead. You can shape your civilization in ways that reduce dependence on the Dice Gods. In other words, you can actually make decisions that matter, something Yahtzee has never heard of.

The theme is fun, the rules are dead simple, and it scratches the same “roll dice, get stuff” itch while being roughly a 1,000% improvement in every possible aspect over Yahtzee. It plays fast, works perfectly as a filler, and it’s endlessly replayable. And if you end up loving it, there’s even an expansion (Unrest) that adds a bit more punch.

It’s quick, clever, and, most importantly, it’s the perfect antidote to another forced evening of Yahtzee.

Starship Catan (2001) BGG Rating 1627

I can’t say I’m shocked to see Starship Catan ranked as low as it is. Honestly, for a title this obscure, its ranking is practically generous. And normally, I’m not a big fan of Catan-branded anything—Settlers has never been my jam, and most of its spin-offs tend to stretch out a simple formula into games that last twice as long as they should.

But Starship Catan is different. This two player Catan game actually has some chops, in fact I would say to put it bluntly: this is the best Catan game ever made. Better than Settlers, better than Starfarers, better than any variant with sheep, grain, or plastic rocket ships. And the fact that it’s strictly a two-player experience is just icing on the cake, because it avoids the #1 problem most Catan games suffer from: taking forever despite offering fairly basic decisions.

Starship Catan takes the familiar Catan concepts, trading, upgrading, resource management and transforms them into a tight, engaging two-player race. The game gives you multiple ways to mitigate, improve, or outright remove dice luck, which alone makes it feel like a breath of fresh air compared to the usual “roll and pray” Catan experience.

It’s short, smart, and surprisingly replayable. I bought my copy back in 2001, and somehow, after nearly 25 years, it still hits the table regularly. My daughter now plays it too, this is one of those games that proves staying power doesn’t come from flash, but from clean, clever design.

It’s fun. It’s simple. And it’s absolutely overlooked. If you enjoy Catan, or even just wish Catan was better, this is a must-own.

Age of Civilization (2019) BGG Rank 1716

I’m a sucker for a good civilization-building game. I own plenty, I play plenty, and I love when a designer manages to cram the essence of a sprawling 4X epic into something you can knock out in the time it takes to make a cup of coffee. Age of Civilization fits that description perfectly.

This game is a tiny, abstracted Civ-builder that manages to feel strategic, tense, and satisfying, all in 15 to 30 minutes. It’s a bit of a race, a bit of an efficiency puzzle, and a whole lot of clever design wrapped into a filler-length package. And full disclosure: I don’t even own a physical copy. I’ve played it relentlessly on BoardGameArena, which should tell you how good it is despite its humble size.

I can’t say I’m shocked that it’s overlooked. Fillers almost never climb high on BGG rankings. Still, it’s wild to see heavyweight short games like 7 Wonders Duel and The Crew sitting comfortably in the top 100 while brilliant little titles like this one languish in the 1700s. Don’t get me wrong, those are great games, but if they are in the top 100, so should Age of Civilization.

Age of Civilization is tight, thinky, and surprisingly competitive. Every decision, literally every single one, matters. There’s almost no randomness; most of the information you need is visible from the very first round, which means the game rewards planning, timing, and adaptability over luck.

Even better, while most strong fillers are two-player affairs, this one works beautifully at 2, 3, or 4 players, and remains highly replayable across all counts.

Short, strategic, and punchy, Age of Civilization is an underappreciated gem that deserves far more love than it gets.

Aristeia! (2017) BGG Rank 1903

I’m convinced part of the reason Aristeia! is so overlooked is because at first glance it looks like some kind of Japanese anime gladiator game. The art style is loud and unusual, and I never would’ve bought it for myself. But sometimes being a reviewer means you get surprises in the mail, occasionally great ones.

Case in point: Corvus Belli sent me a review copy of their newest miniature game (Warcrow), and tucked inside the box was Aristeia!. And here’s the twist: while Warcrow was solid and fun, it was Aristeia! that absolutely stole the show.

The game is a fast, competitive, sports-arena skirmish played on a hex grid. You control a small team of unique characters, complete with minis, each with their own abilities. Gameplay mixes clever card-driven tactics, slick movement mechanics, and objective control into a tight, engaging package. The whole thing feels like a tactical TV bloodsport, and it sings on the table.

What surprises me the most is that this never became a hit among miniature gamers. It’s practically engineered for them. It’s like a miniatures skirmish game in filler form: Don’t have time for a full game of Warcrow or Infinity? No problem, play a best-of-three match of Aristeia! in under an hour.

The rules are straightforward, the gameplay is fast and tactical, and there’s plenty of list-building and team customization. And if you fall in love with it, there are expansions galore.

It ended up being one of my favorite discoveries of the year. My daughter and I play it constantly.

A fantastic, tightly designed, and criminally underrated game.

Illuminati (1987) BGG Rank 2607

This one, I have to admit, frustrates me. Not because the game is bad, quite the opposite. Illuminati is one of the all-time greats. It has been in print almost continuously since 1987, and despite that longevity it still sits criminally under-appreciated. Practically a gaming injustice.

I can almost forgive its low profile, though, because Steve Jackson’s design reputation has always been a bit niche. Old-school gamers like me, who cut our teeth in the ’80s on Axis & Allies, Dune, Advanced Civilization, and other titans, know these classics well. But many of them, including Illuminati, have remained somewhat obscure despite loyal cult followings.

To me, Illuminati is the ultimate psychological competition. It is an argument waiting to happen. Betrayal, manipulation, and cut-throat mind games aren’t just possibilities, they’re the core mechanics.

You’re trying to build a growing power structure by adding organizations to your Illuminati web. But the stronger you become, the more exposed you are. The only way to rise is to make someone else fall. Every decision is a balancing act of threat perception, convincing others you’re harmless while quietly setting up the perfect final strike.

Its a mean game and that might explain why it’s struggled in the modern age of friendlier, more cooperative designs. Illuminati demands ruthlessness from everyone at the table, and not all gamers enjoy taking (or receiving) a knife in the back.

Still, it remains, without question in my mind, a stone-cold classic. Bold, unique and fiercely interactive. A true original that deserves far more love than it gets.

War Room (2019) BGG Rating 2198

Alright, my bias is about to show. War Room is my favorite board game of all time. I consider it dangerously close to perfect in how it executes its design goals, and it is an absolute blast to play.

That said, I’m not remotely surprised to see it sitting in the 2000s on BGG. Honestly, I’m a little surprised it ranks that high. The reasons are obvious: this is a massive, all-day event game that practically demands 4–6 players and devours 10–12 hours. Add in its truly eye-watering price tag, and yeah… I get why it’s not climbing the charts.

But leaving it off this list would be dishonest, because War Room is responsible for some of my most cherished gaming memories. My group plays it every year on my birthday, no questions asked. When Chris’s birthday rolls around, everyone knows what we’re doing: we’re setting up War Room.

Epic doesn’t even begin to cover it. You and your allies reenact the most iconic and devastating conflict in human history, World War II, in all its tragic, sprawling intensity. Hidden orders, bucketloads of dice rolling, resource management, and breathtaking large-scale planning combine into an experience unlike anything else I’ve ever played.

Nothing matches its scope. Nothing comes close to its ambition.

I love it. Enough said.

List complete.