I took a shot at reviewing what really amounts to a proper “kids’ game” by any definition, but more specifically, a game designed exclusively for kids and their parents. Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure falls squarely into that category and, by that categorization, needs to be reviewed accordingly.
I say that here and now because I generally review all games by the same standard. I try not to make a lot of exceptions to that rule, but there are two types of games where I think it makes sense to bend it a little: party games, like the recently reviewed Hitster: Battle of the Generations, and kids’ games, like Ninjago.
With that said, there is still a standard you can apply to kids’ games. Plenty of great games work perfectly well for younger players, especially around the 8+ age range that Ninjago is targeting, so there is definitely something to work with here. Being a kids’ game isn’t a free pass.
A good example of a classic kids game is The Game of Life, which to me kind of sets the standard for kids games. Nice art, pretty components, a bit of randomness with a fun theme.
LEGO has made plenty of attempts in the past to blend building LEGO with playing board games, but I would argue that the results have been less than stellar. In fact, most have been pretty forgettable.
There is always hope, however, especially when you’re working with a popular franchise like Ninjago which, I’m told by some of the younger members of the family, is “kind of a big deal.”
In fact, they were the reason I chose to review this game in the first place. They were sort of the target audience I hoped I could reach with it, and ultimately, their reaction was always going to matter more than mine.
One big exception when it comes to LEGO games is Creationary from 2009. I remember getting this for my kids and playing it over and over again. They really nailed it with this one.
Alright, here we go. Let’s take a look at Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure.
Overview
Final Score: (3.15 out 5) Fun Kids Game
Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure is a cooperative family game in which players control Ninjas from the Ninjago universe with the goal of defending a ship called Destiny’s Bounty from a pirate attack. Players move around the ship fighting pirates, upgrading their Ninjas, and doing some silly stuff like drinking tea and reading comic books, which is something I presume is normal in Ninjago, but admittedly I know very little about this universe.
The premise is simple, easy to establish, and sufficiently exciting when properly voiced in a grim gargle to young kids amped up to play a game that combines two fun activities: Fighting imaginary battles with LEGO people and boardgames.
There are no issues with the sales pitch here. This is a very easy game to get to the table with kids.
When it comes to kids games, it needs to look fun, and Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty certainly does that very well. The game looks very nice laid out on the table.
One of the big standouts, perhaps unsurprisingly, is how well LEGO knows its audience. I think only people with kids in the 8–10 age group will truly understand this, but no matter how much money you spend on LEGO, in the end, your kids are mostly going to play with the little LEGO people. That is what they want. The rest of the stuff inevitably goes into a box to be forgotten until they get much older and building LEGO becomes a thing again.
LEGO for an 8-year-old is about those little plastic men that you can dress up, equip with cool weapons, and pretend to fight with.
Ninjago gets it and plays full service to this shared mentality.
You’re not asked to build any complex structures or vehicles. What you’re going to do is build your Ninjas, give them cool weapons and equipment and then have fights with them. It’s the literal joy center for LEGO lovers in this age group.
The rules for the game itself are relatively straightforward, though I can’t help but think one big opportunity was missed here mechanically, namely in the way fights are resolved.
LEGO understood the assignment here. This is a game about playing with Ninjago figurines; that is your bread and butter.
There is a cooperative element where Ninjas need to work together to take down enemies, but fights are deterministic. Each Ninja has a “strength,” which is more often than not insufficient to take down an enemy alone, so your teammates have to jump in and help you.
Mechanically, this is fun and encourages cooperation, but the deterministic nature of combat feels like a bit of a misreading of the audience’s desire.
At 8 years old, kids want risk versus reward. They want the unknown. They want, for the most part, to roll dice. This is why games like King of Tokyo are such smash hits with a younger audience: big monster fights with lots of dice, yes please!
What makes this omission particularly strange is that LEGO has a potentially brilliant solution sitting right in front of them. They can create dice out of LEGO with unique faces, faces that could potentially be upgraded and changed because the entire die is basically built out of LEGO.
I’ve seen them do this in other games and I was half-expecting it here.
The deterministic method works fine, but it lacks the excitement and unpredictability you get from a die roll. At 8 years old, randomness and luck are exciting prospects. It’s your turn, you get to roll the die, and everyone watches to see what happens. That’s fun.
Ninjago really could have used one of these as part of the game mechanic.
Making strategic decisions and trying to beat a number by positioning Ninjas accordingly on the board? It’s great for a more strategic experience, but it’s not particularly exciting for an 8-year-old.
Most of the game boils down to running into rooms, discovering what enemies are in there, and trying to beat them as a group. It’s a simple, straightforward, and very easy-to-understand premise. Periodically, you get to upgrade your Ninja and, while I think the game is generally fairly easy to win for an adult, for 8-year-old kids it can actually be pretty difficult.
Which is fine.
Eight-year-old kids love to win, but losing is what gets them to try again and again, so I think a bit of difficulty is a good thing.
There are several different “adventures” included in the game that progressively increase the difficulty. They don’t alter the game in any significant way beyond adding more enemies and the occasional special rule that can make previously successful strategies more difficult.
It works fine as a difficulty progression. When the kids figure out how to beat an adventure too easily, you simply move on to the next one. There are also bonus adventures available online that you can print out, extending the game further.
Altogether, I think Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure is a game for kids and their parents, but I think that is about as far as it goes as a game. It’s far too simple to entertain adults on its own.
Besides, the fun of this game isn’t really the game.
It’s the activity of pushing around little LEGO Ninjas, making fighting noises and having a bit of fun being silly with the kids for half an hour before they get bored and bugger off to do the next thing.
And frankly, for a game like this, that’s probably exactly the point.
Components
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Great value for LEGO fans, quality components, everything is up to specs.
Cons: Beyond the LEGO miniatures, there is nothing that will wow you.
LEGO is expensive. The obvious statement is obvious, but considering this is both a LEGO product and a board game, at around $45 it’s actually pretty reasonably priced. At least comparatively.
I say this up front because most of what is in this box feels like a carefully considered compromise between cost and value.
The LEGO pieces themselves are the obvious winners of the package. You get four minifigures along with all of their equipment pieces, which comparatively speaking already accounts for a decent chunk of the value in the box.
Then you have the actual board game components, which are all of good quality. There are two boards, several decks of cards and a healthy pile of tokens. Combine all of that with the LEGO pieces and I think you’re getting pretty good value for your money.
The LEGO artwork on the cards is well done, colorful and fun. The cards themselves are very good quality, which is good, because kids are rough with games.
The artwork has that classic LEGO look and connects nicely to the Ninjago theme. It’s colorful, clean and immediately recognizable for what it is. As a whole, the component package is quite good.
There really isn’t much else to say about it.
Nothing in the box blew me away, but nothing disappointed me either. Remove the LEGO branding and you’re looking at about what you would expect from a typically packaged and professionally published board game today.
The LEGO pieces are ultimately what elevate the package, both in terms of presentation and value. They give the game its tactile charm and, considering what LEGO sets cost these days, make the $45 price tag feel surprisingly reasonable.
Theme
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Great art, fun theme, and of course LEGO’s!
Cons: There is a bit of a disconnect between the audience’s expectation and the somber way the game plays out. Not quite the action-packed game it could have been.
I’m not going to feign interest here. Ninjago is a theme I don’t know much about, nor particularly care about. What I can say is that I recognize the excitement surrounding the franchise for a younger audience and, in that regard, I think this game kind of nails it.
The fun of Ninjago is in the characters. Each has a unique style, with their own equipment, weapons and power upgrades, and the game leans heavily into all of that.
Ninjago is a fully original franchise created by LEGO, supported by cartoons, video games, books, comics and a theatrical movie, not to mention a considerable library of LEGO sets.
There is no question about Ninjago’s popularity.
It’s also worth noting that Destiny’s Bounty isn’t some invention created for the board game. This is effectively the flying headquarters of the Ninja team in the lore and has appeared in numerous LEGO sets over the years. Kids who are into this franchise will know exactly what it is.
Having the game take place aboard Destiny’s Bounty is right on theme.
From that perspective, I think Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure is pretty spot on. It hits all the beats you would expect out of a game like this. You have the familiar location, the characters, the equipment and, of course, plenty of Ninja fighting.
Ninjago is not some small franchise; this is a major production at this point and very popular. I think they could have gone a lot bigger with this game.
Simply playing with the LEGO is already fun for kids, so the question is whether imposing rules on that experience adds something or gets in the way.
I think that will land differently with different kids, but most kids understand games and the basic premise of winning and losing. Giving their imaginary Ninja battles some structure, objectives and a sense of risk doesn’t really take anything away from the LEGO experience. If anything, it gives everyone around the table a reason to play together rather than simply smashing minifigures into each other.
Quite possibly the biggest challenge with this game will be holding on to all the pieces because, undoubtedly, kids are going to want to break this box out like any other LEGO set and play with it as a toy.
I suspect more than a few copies of Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure will eventually be missing a sword, a helmet, or an entire Ninja because someone needed it for a completely unrelated LEGO battle three weeks earlier.
Gameplay
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Simple rules, lots of fun ways to upgrade your Ninja with a great focus on teamwork.
Cons: Lacking a bit in the fun factor area, a bit slow and methodical for a game about Ninja fighting.
At the center of Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure is a cooperative game in which players must strategically position their Ninjas so that, on any given player’s turn, they can jump in and assist in taking down enemies that inevitably pop up as event cards are drawn.
In a way, the game is a kind of tower defense game, fitting because as you progress you will be able to upgrade your Ninjas and get better at taking down enemies faster, which becomes something of a necessity for success.
On each turn, a player can make a move and activate a clear action, which lets them pick up any benefits in a room as well as fight any enemies there. If other Ninjas are nearby, they can jump in and help with the fight.
The combat mechanic is very simple and deterministic. You take your Ninja’s strength, add the strength of any other Ninjas participating in the fight, and compare the total to the enemies in the room. If you have enough strength to take them down, you remove their token and put it on the victory track.
Each round, however, the enemies move around the board on predetermined paths that eventually lead them to certain areas where they score for the bad guys, forming the serpent, which acts as a sort of timer.
If the players manage to complete the adventure before this timer is filled, they win. Otherwise, they lose.
Along the way, players will get opportunities to upgrade their Ninjas with special gear that can give them a wide range of advantages, from increased strength and movement to special abilities like being able to ignore bad guys and move past them.
I think I would describe this game as pretty basic from a gamer’s perspective. I doubt anyone accustomed to playing strategy games is going to have much trouble crushing this game, even on their first go. For 8 to 10 year olds, however, it might not be so easy, as it does require a bit of planning, positional thinking and anticipation of enemy movement.
It’s strategically simple for a gamer, but perhaps not so obvious for a kid.
There is a puzzle to solve here, this is not going to be something 8-10 year olds are going to find easy to win, which I think is a good thing; it will help with it’s longevity a bit.
To me, this is really the only sensible way to design a game like this, so I don’t see anything wrong with the approach in terms of difficulty or depth. Even if, from my perspective as an adult and a gamer, the experience is very surface level, there is enough here to challenge younger players without overwhelming them.
My issue with the game is really the fun factor.
If you’re going to make a silly LEGO game about Ninjas fighting pirates for kids, I’m not sure “strategy,” per se, should be such a major factor in the gameplay.
The deterministic nature of the game suggests that strategy, tactics and a deeper understanding of the game’s rhythm are how you unravel the puzzle and succeed. That can certainly be its own kind of fun, but with a bunch of 8 year olds sitting around the table looking forward to Ninja fights, it feels a little at odds with the premise, or perhaps more accurately, with the kind of fun the premise promises.
To put it plainly, I think the game should have more luck.
Specifically, and preferably, it should have you throwing some dice.
You want those little moments of anticipation. The cheers when someone rolls exactly what they need, the groans when everything goes horribly wrong and the inevitable “oh no!” when a Ninja completely whiffs an attack. Those are the sorts of moments I expect from a silly LEGO game aimed at kids.
As it stands, Ninjago is a little too somber and calculated for what it’s trying to achieve as a gaming experience.
Don’t get me wrong, I think 8 year olds can absolutely learn a strategy game like this. My experience, however, is that kids are generally more interested in roleplaying their Ninjas and having fun fighting with them than they are in thinking several moves ahead about positioning and tactics. A simple luck based mechanic like rolling a die would have gone a long way toward meeting those expectations.
Beyond the basics, Ninjago does have a really nice tactile element, and I think that elevates the gameplay considerably. It’s fun to move your LEGO Ninjas around Destiny’s Bounty and imagine them leaping into fights, kicking pirates off the ship and coming to each other’s rescue.
The ability to upgrade your Ninja’s with weapons and equipment is the big sales pitch here mechanically. This is what the kids are going to want to do; it’s the most exciting moment in the game when you get to pick your upgrade.
You can almost hear “Kung Fu Fighting” playing in the background as you play this one.
There is a fun game here, and mechanically I think it is pitched at about the right level for its intended audience. I just wish the gameplay embraced the chaotic, energetic spirit of LEGO Ninjas fighting pirates as enthusiastically as the presentation does.
Replayability and Longevity
Score: Tilt:
Pros: The LEGO figures will still be fun even if you get bored of the game.
Cons: A bit too slow for kids, a bit too simple for adults.
The mileage on replayability here is going to vary quite a bit. As a board game, Ninjago is very clearly aimed at a younger audience, perhaps with a parent or two joining in, and I think that fairly niche situation is ultimately the only place where the game belongs.
This is not a game you’re going to pull out with your typical hobbyist group, and I can’t imagine many people outside of younger kids having much interest in returning to it.
How long Ninjago entertains those kids, however, is probably going to depend a lot more on how much they enjoy playing with Ninjago figures than how much they enjoy the actual game.
That distinction is important because, as a game, even among a group of kids I think the shelf life here is fairly limited.
There is some variability in how things play out and the upgrades give the Ninjas a sense of progression, but once you’ve figured out the basic rhythms of positioning, cooperation, and dealing with enemies, there isn’t a whole lot more for the game to reveal.
This is not the first Ninjago game, I actually remember this one. A much smaller production, but it had a die, and I think probably this one should have had one as well.
I think the biggest contributing factor is that Ninjago never quite delivers the exciting fun factor its theme suggests. This is a rather somber little strategy game about positioning, and while I think that can entertain, it’s caught in an awkward middle ground. It’s too shallow to hold the attention of most adult gamers for very long, yet perhaps a little too calculated and predictable to generate the kind of excitement that keeps kids demanding another game.
The LEGO pieces themselves may ultimately have more longevity than the game they’re packaged with, and that’s not necessarily a terrible thing. Kids can take the Ninjas out, play with them, incorporate them into their LEGO collections and continue enjoying that part of the product long after the board game has stopped hitting the table.
I don’t think any of this significantly devalues Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure as a package, particularly given the reasonable price point, but strictly in the longevity department, I think Ninjago as a game is going to come up a bit short.
Conclusion
Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure is a very simple, deterministic game that incorporates a beloved kid-friendly franchise and the always fun hobby of building and playing with LEGO.
It’s a game for kids, and I think that is ultimately all the game set out to be. On those terms, I think it largely succeeds. It’s approachable, easy to teach, offers just enough strategy to get younger players thinking and makes good use of the LEGO pieces and Ninjago theme.
If anything, my disappointment with Ninjago is less about what it is and more about what it could have been.
The biggest thing missing for me is that fun factor sweet spot you’re kind of hoping a LEGO game about Ninjas fighting pirates is going to hit. There aren’t many big moments or exciting outcomes, and the deterministic nature of the game takes some of the wind out of what should be a fairly energetic premise.
A little randomness, some dice chucking and a bit more drama could have created those cheers, groans and ridiculous moments that kids tend to remember after the game is over.
That said, I don’t think Ninjago is a bad game. Quite the contrary, I can easily imagine a few rounds around the table with some wide-eyed kids who love the franchise, moving their Ninjas around Destiny’s Bounty and having a great time doing it. There is charm here, the production is good, the price is reasonable and the game is pitched at an appropriate level for its audience.
I just don’t know that the game itself has enough staying power to become one of those childhood board games that gets pulled off the shelf again and again for years.
Ninjago: Destiny’s Bounty Adventure does what it sets out to do and does it reasonably well. I just wish it had been a little less careful, a little more ambitious and, perhaps most importantly, a little more willing to embrace the wonderfully silly chaos of kids, LEGO and Ninjas.
Two-player board games have always held a special place in my collection. Partly because they’re simply easier to get to the table, but mostly because the experience feels far more personal. It’s just you and one other player, matching wits across the table without the downtime, debates, or scheduling headaches that often come with larger groups.
There’s also something wonderfully simple about choosing what to play. When only one other person’s preferences matter, finding the right game becomes a whole lot easier.
When I first sat down to write this list, though, I quickly ran into a problem. What exactly is the “best” two-player game?
Is it an epic historical war game? A fast card game? A thinky Euro? A cooperative puzzle? A tactical skirmish? Comparing those games directly felt a bit like arguing whether a Formula One car is better than a mountain bike. They’re built to do completely different things; it was awkward, simply didn’t make sense to me to have one list that jams everything into one place.
So rather than force them into one giant, slightly ridiculous ranking, I decided to organize this list by category.
For each category, I’ll crown my favorite game while also giving you two runner-ups. That way, instead of recommending just ten games, I can introduce you to thirty outstanding two-player experiences, each suited to a different mood, partner, or evening around the table. Hopefully that will be a lot more useful.
Whether you’re looking for a deep strategic duel, a relaxing cooperative adventure, or something you can teach in five minutes, there should be something here for you.
Let’s get to it.
1. Best Casual or Family Game
This is probably the category most hobby gamers find themselves reaching for.
Most of us gamer-gamers own shelves full of heavy Euros, sprawling campaign games, and intricate strategy titles, but the reality is that most people we invite over aren’t hobby gamers. They’re friends, family, neighbours, or colleagues who simply want to sit down and have a good time.
That means the game has to be welcoming and easy to get into.
For me, a great casual two-player game isn’t just easy to learn, it has to be intuitive. A new player should be able to rely on common sense rather than previous experience and still feel like they have a genuine chance of winning. If knowing the deck by heart or memorising opening strategies gives the experienced player an overwhelming advantage, then I don’t think it belongs in this category.
The best family games create close contests regardless of who’s sitting across the table. They let newcomers make sensible decisions, reward good instincts, and leave everyone feeling like they were competitive right until the final score.
Those are exactly the kinds of games I was looking for here.
3. Starship Catan
I have had Starship Catan in my collection for over two decades, and it still see’s play often enough that I just can’t ever see myself getting rid of it.
Poor Starship Catan has largely disappeared into history, overshadowed by the seemingly endless stream of Catan spin-offs that followed. That’s a shame, because in my opinion, it’s still the best two-player Catan game Klaus Teuber ever designed.
It takes the familiar Catan formula and strips away much of the randomness that people often criticize in the original, replacing it with a game that rewards clever planning without ever becoming intimidating. It’s one of those rare games that’s genuinely easy to teach, yet still offers enough meaningful decisions to keep experienced players engaged.
The presentation has aged remarkably well, too. The artwork has that wonderfully optimistic early-2000s science-fiction charm, the production is clean without being cluttered, and the gameplay strikes a lovely balance between competition and accessibility. You’re racing your opponent rather than constantly attacking them, which makes it an excellent choice for playing with spouses, family members, or friends who aren’t looking for a cutthroat experience.
Starship Catan is a pretty game, even by today’s standards, I think, thanks largely to Franz Vohwinkel, an artist whose work you have seen more times than you probably realize because he’s just about everywhere you look.
What really earns Starship Catan its place on this list, though, is how naturally people seem to understand it.
Like the original Catan, it rewards instincts that almost everyone already possesses. You don’t need years of hobby gaming experience or dozens of previous plays to feel competitive. Once the rules are explained, most players immediately understand what they’re trying to accomplish and can start making sensible decisions from the very first turn.
That’s exactly what I look for in a great casual two-player game.
And perhaps the biggest compliment I can give it is this: almost everyone I’ve introduced it to has immediately asked for another game. Twenty-five years after its release, that’s still a pretty impressive achievement that I can say about very few games in my collection.
2. The Duke
The Duke probably belongs in the abstract category, but this game is so approachable and will be so familiar to your casual observer that I had to add it here.
Another older game makes the list, but one that’s still brilliantly clever.
The Duke is often described as chess with a twist. Each player controls a small army of tiles that show their movement directly on the piece. Every time you move one, you flip it over, changing how it moves next turn. The goal is simple: capture your opponent’s Duke (king) piece.
There is a wide range of pieces that do all sorts of clever things, and in that respect it can feel like a far more robust game to onlookers, but you have very few pieces on the board at any given time, so the analysis here is not nearly as broad.
The rules can be taught in minutes, but the strategy runs surprisingly deep. Because most people already understand the basics of chess or checkers, new players immediately feel comfortable and start developing their own tactics from the very first game.
It’s also wonderfully compact, making it an ideal travel game, and most matches are finished in around 15–20 minutes.
Experience certainly helps here, but unlike chess, the learning curve is much shorter. After just a handful of games, new players will already have formed their own strategies and can put up a very respectable fight.
For me, it’s one of the smartest abstract games ever made, and one that deserves far more attention than it gets.
1. Patchwork
One of the easiest games to recommend to everyone, it’s a universal kind of fun.
I don’t imagine this pick will surprise many hobbyists. Patchwork has become the gold standard for introducing people to modern two-player board games, and I think it has earned that reputation for good reason.
The concept is wonderfully simple. You’re building a patchwork quilt by selecting oddly shaped tiles, trying to cover as much of your board as possible while managing your buttons (victory points) and time. The rules can be explained in five minutes, yet every turn presents an interesting little puzzle.
What makes Patchwork so perfect for this category is that success isn’t really based on experience with the game. Instead, it rewards spatial reasoning and problem-solving skills that everyone naturally brings to the table. A veteran may recognize a few patterns, but a first-time player can absolutely outplay an experienced one simply by solving the puzzle better.
I like to describe this game as “Tetris” like, something very easy for everyone to relate to.
Fast, approachable, endlessly replayable, and satisfying every single time, Patchwork remains my go-to recommendation whenever someone asks me for the perfect casual two-player game.
2. Best Hobbyiest Strategy Game
Not every board gamer is a hardcore strategist, but most hobbyists are willing to try just about anything. We bounce between Euros, area control, deck builders, cooperative games, abstracts, you name it. That doesn’t mean every strategy game is going to appeal to everyone, though.
For this category, I wanted games that I think almost any hobby gamer would enjoy, regardless of their particular tastes, simply because of the excellent and inspired game mechanics. These are the games I’d happily recommend to someone with a reasonably established collection because they’re simply excellent designs with broad appeal.
They’re a step up from the family games in the previous category in terms of complexity and challenge. The rules are a little (sometimes a lot) more involved, the decisions a little deeper, and you’ll probably be setting aside the whole evening rather than squeezing in a quick game after dinner. They will also require multiple plays to really get good at them, so they are specifically designed for people who are going to get together more than once.
Think of these as the modern strategy staples of two-player gaming. If you’re serious about the hobby, these are games you should probably experience at least once. As I have many other categories on this list, I have excluded games that I think fit into a tighter, more specific niche.
3. Through The Ages: A New Story of Civilization
Through The Ages is a versatile game that shows up on many of my best-of lists, including best of all time. It is, to me, among the best games the hobby has to offer.
This is definitely one of the heavier games on the list, and while it technically supports up to four players, I firmly believe it’s at its absolute best with two, though an argument can be made for three. With four players, this game really stretches the definition of board game night; it’s just too long.
Through the Ages is a civilization-building game where you’ll guide your nation from antiquity into the modern era, balancing military, culture, science, economy, and politics in a constant struggle to outscore your opponent. There’s an incredible amount of depth here, and it’s the sort of game that demands repeated plays before you truly appreciate all of its nuances.
Through the Ages is a card-driven game, but it’s not a card game. It’s probably closer to an action selection and resource management game; the cards are really a support mechanism.
What keeps me coming back is how dynamic every game feels. Despite its complexity, it never settles into routine. Every civilization develops differently, every draft presents new opportunities, and every opponent forces you to rethink your strategy.
It’s long, competitive, and occasionally downright ruthless, but if you’re looking for a two-player strategy game you can really sink your teeth into with a lot of replayability, Through the Ages is one of the very best in class.
2. The White Castle
White Castle is the new kid on the block, but I’m obsessed; it’s a contender for a 5 out of 5 review, which would make it only the second game to achieve this on gamersdungeon.net in 12 years as of this writing. It’s that good.
The White Castle is one of my favourite discoveries of the past year. While it’s excellent with three or four players, I actually think it’s a fantastic two-player strategy game as well.
This is an incredibly tight Euro where every decision matters. With only 9 (With base game) to 12 (with Matcha expansion) actions over the course of the game, every move feels significant, forcing you to squeeze every possible point out of your strategy. Despite that limited action count, the number of viable approaches is remarkable, making each game feel fresh and rewarding.
I also highly recommend the Matcha expansion. It adds another layer of strategic depth without increasing the rules overhead, making an already brilliant game even better.
The Matcha expansion adds an extra dice bridge and an additional action per turn, while also giving the game tremendous added depth. It’s one of those situations where the game is amazing without an expansion, but doubles down on the goodness with one.
Elegant, challenging, and endlessly satisfying, The White Castle is the kind of game hobbyists can happily play over and over while continuing to discover new strategies. It’s an exceptional design and an easy recommendation for anyone who enjoys deep, thoughtful Euros.
There is a The White Castle: Duel variant that’s designed for two players, but despite the good effort with that one, I still think the multiplayer version is superior as a two-player experience.
1. Star Wars: Rebellion
I know that not “everyone” is a Star Wars fan, but that is a tough pill to swallow for a guy like me who quite literally named his son Luke because of the original trilogy. Saying you’re not a Star Wars fan makes you, at the very least, a suspect individual!
This might seem like an unusual winner because it’s so heavily tied to its theme, in fact, had I not put it here, it would go into the Best Theme category for sure. That said, I get it, if you have absolutely no interest in Star Wars, then one of the other games in this category is probably a better fit.
That said, I’ve always found there’s a huge overlap between board gamers and nerd culture, and Star Wars sits comfortably at the centre of that Venn diagram. So I’m fairly confident this recommendation will resonate with a lot, if not most, people.
The reason Star Wars: Rebellion tops this category is that it succeeds on two fronts.
First, it’s simply an outstanding strategy game. Every session is packed with bluffing, long-term planning, military campaigns, political maneuvering, and difficult decisions. Both factions play completely differently, giving the game incredible replayability and making every match feel like a battle of wits, while remaining a reasonably approachable game.
Everything about Star Wars Rebellion reinforces Star Wars fandom; there is no question that Corey Konieczka is a huge fan; he would not have been able to create this game otherwise.
Second, and this is what elevates it above almost every licensed game ever made, it absolutely nails the theme.
Rebellion doesn’t just use Star Wars artwork; it lets you play the original trilogy. Every objective, every desperate Rebel mission, every Imperial search for the hidden base, and every dramatic space battle feels like it belongs in the films. The connection between the mechanics and the theme is about as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen.
If you’re a Star Wars fan, I honestly think this is a must-own game.
And if you’re not…Well, there’s a decent chance this game might make you one.
3. Best Historical Duel
Historical games, and historical war games in particular, are one of my favourite genres, which made this category surprisingly difficult. Narrowing the list down to just three games was no easy task.
There is one important caveat, though.
I’m not recommending games for experienced historical war gamers. That would be an entirely different list. Instead, I wanted to highlight games that I think any hobby gamer with an interest in history could comfortably dive into without spending six months learning hex-and-counter warfare.
To illustrate what I mean, I firmly believe Empire of the Sun is the greatest two-player historical war game ever designed.
There is no question that Empire Of The Sun is the best historical war game ever made, but to suggest it to anyone but the most dedicated historical war gamer would be madness.
It’s also one of the most complex board games I’ve ever played.
Even seasoned wargamers treat it with a healthy amount of respect, so recommending it to someone who’s merely curious about the genre would be doing them a disservice.
With that in mind, these are the historical duels I’d recommend first. They still deliver the tension, drama, and fascinating decision-making that make historical games so rewarding, but they’re approachable enough that a hobby gamer can jump in without feeling completely overwhelmed.
That’s exactly what this category is about.
3. Twilight Struggle
A classic is a classic for a reason; resistance is futile!
Despite one significant caveat, I think Twilight Struggle remains one of the best entry points into historical war gaming.
That caveat is the learning curve, not so much learning how to play but learning to play reasonably well. This isn’t a game you’re likely to become competitive at after a single play. Deck knowledge is absolutely critical, and it will probably take four or five games before you really begin to understand the subtle timing, strategic positioning, and difficult decisions the game throws at you. Until then, you’re going to get crushed by someone who has played before, and it’s going to happen fast.
Once it clicks, though, it’s exceptional.
Set during the Cold War, Twilight Struggle brilliantly recreates the political tension of the era through card play, influence, and global maneuvering. From the Space Race to proxy wars and diplomatic crises, the historical events feel naturally woven into the gameplay rather than simply pasted on as flavour.
Historical games are about history, so if a particular piece of history doesn’t interest you, a game based on it probably won’t change your mind. This is a great game, but like all historical games, you need to have at least a passing interest in the topic, and admittedly, The Cold War can be a bit dry for some.
It’s a wonderfully tense, deeply strategic design that rewards repeated play without ever feeling repetitive.
More importantly, it also helped popularize one of my favourite genres in board gaming: the card-driven influence control genre.
As it happens… that genre gets its very own category later on this list.
2. Sekigahara: The Unification Of Japan
Block games can be traced all the way back to pre-modern era gaming; In fact, you could argue the first board games ever made were block games like Senet. They are a rather classic format, but the concept is very simple. Block games tend to be relatively light historical war games in general.
I’m a sucker for two things: Japanese history and card-driven games, so Sekigahara was always going to have an uphill battle trying not to impress me.
This brilliant block wargame recreates the struggle to unify Japan using hidden wooden blocks, so you always know your own army but never quite what your opponent has assembled. Think Stratego, but with far more meaningful strategic decisions.
Stratego is a very simple take on the typical historical block game, but it’s a game most of us are at least familiar with in passing, as it’s been on store shelves since the 1940’s. It is, however, very one-dimensional; most block games, including Sekigahara, include elements like supply lines, terrain, and strongholds.
What I love most is that it delivers everything I want from a historical wargame without the intimidating complexity the genre is often known for. There are plenty of deep strategic decisions to explore, but the objective is always clear. You know what you’re trying to achieve; the challenge is figuring out how to do it with incomplete information and a hand of cards that never quite cooperates.
That uncertainty creates constant tension. Every battle is a calculated gamble, every move a bluff, and every commitment of troops carries real consequences.
One thing I really love about this game is that it really rewards repeated plays with the same opponent. Players will come up with gambits and strategies that work, then on the next game when they try the same thing, your opponent will be ready for you. There is a sort of evolution that takes place the more you play with the same person.
It’s certainly a confrontational game, so both players need to enjoy going head-to-head, but if they do, Sekigahara is one of the finest battles of wits I can think of.
1. Tide Of Iron
Historical war games come in many forms, but tactical war games tend to be something historical war gamers are particularly passionate about. You will often see historical war gamers argue about what qualifies and doesn’t qualify as a proper historical war game, even in cases like Tide of Iron, some may not agree that it’s sufficiently “historical”. Ignore nonsense like that; it’s a rabbit hole of stupidity.
It just wouldn’t feel right to have a historical gaming category without World War II making an appearance.
For me, Tide of Iron is the gold standard for introducing players to historical wargaming. It strikes an almost perfect balance between authenticity and accessibility, delivering enough tactical depth and historical flavour to satisfy seasoned wargamers while remaining approachable for hobby gamers taking their first steps into the genre.
That’s an incredibly difficult balance to achieve. Historical accuracy and detailed simulation usually come hand in hand with intimidating rulebooks, but Tide of Iron manages to capture the feel of battlefield tactics without burying players in complexity.
It’s also a fantastic production. The modular maps, miniatures, varied scenarios, and customizable forces make every battle feel different, while just enough dice-driven uncertainty reminds you that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. There is no better way to get someone to try this one than to simply show them what it looks like; the game sells itself.
Tide of Irons is a tactical game on the squad level, hailing from the big box era at Fantasy Flight Games. There are a lot of ways to expand your experience, including entire campaign books and expansions as well as many built-in variants for deeper immersion. If you enjoy the game, there is a tremendous amount of exploration available.
Most importantly, though…It’s simply a tremendous amount of fun.
The scenarios are varied, the tactical decisions are meaningful, and the game scales nicely for players of different experience levels. Whether you’re a history buff or someone who’s simply curious about the genre, Tide of Iron is the game I’d put on the table first.
It’s not just a great historical wargame. It’s a great board game, full stop.
4. Best Heavy Euro
For many board gamers, heavy Euros are something of a graduation ceremony. They’re not the games I recommend to someone who’s just discovered the hobby, but sooner or later most hobbyists become curious about what all the fuss is about. That’s usually the point where they take the plunge into heavier strategy games.
These are games that demand your attention. They’re longer, more complex, and packed with meaningful decisions. They often require several plays before you really understand what you’re doing, and a single game can easily occupy an entire evening.
The investment, however, is almost always worth it.
To me, heavy Euros represent some of the finest strategy game design our hobby has to offer. They’re intricate puzzles built around careful planning, efficient resource management, engine building, and long-term strategy. Luck usually takes a back seat, leaving success largely in the hands of the players.
They’re certainly not for everyone, but if you’re ready to dive into the deep end of board gaming, these are some of the very best places to start.
3. A Feast For Odin
This is a pretty complex game with tons of game critical decisions; it’s going to take many plays to get your head around the strategies involved.
While A Feast for Odin shines with three or four players, I actually think it’s just as enjoyable with two, making it an easy choice for this list.
This is the kind of game that feels like the culmination of everything you’ve learned from lighter Euros. Worker placement, resource management, engine building, and the wonderfully satisfying polyomino puzzle of filling your personal board all come together in one enormous Viking adventure.
It’s undeniably a heavy game, but I don’t think it’s overwhelming. The complexity comes from the sheer number of systems working together, rather than any individual rule being particularly difficult. If you’ve played a variety of lighter strategy games before, you’ll recognize many of the mechanics; they’re simply woven together into something much grander.
The amount of “stuff you can do” in this game is so broad that you may very well play the game half a dozen times and never take certain actions available to you.
Yes, it’s a little fiddly, and yes, it asks a lot of its players, but the payoff is immense. Few games offer this much strategic freedom while remaining so consistently rewarding to explore.
It’s a wonderful, thoroughly satisfying, albeit exhausting gaming experience.
2. Tapestry
The lovely thing about Tapestry is that the rules themselves are relatively simple, yet the amount of depth in this game- the sheer volume of possible strategies can be quite overwhelming. It’s a deep well, one I think is worth exploring for any serious gamer.
I should start by saying that I think Tapestry is at its absolute best with three players. That said, the two-player game is excellent and, perhaps more importantly, much faster. It feels less like a territorial struggle and more like a race to build the most efficient civilization.
What makes Tapestry such a great heavy Euro is that the strategic depth far outweighs the rules complexity. The rulebook is surprisingly approachable, yet the game offers an enormous amount of long-term planning, resource optimization, and engine building, not to mention dynamics. It’s an ideal stepping stone for players looking to move into heavier strategy games without first having to learn a hundred pages of rules.
A big part of the game is the ability to anticipate your opponents’ strategies and plan your own, while making sure you’re getting under your opponents’ feet now and then to slow them down. There is a bit of a give and take here that I really like, and this is a lot easier to do when playing Tapestry with two players. The more players you add, the more complex this games strategy becomes.
Experience definitely matters, though. Your scores will improve dramatically as you learn the game, which means newcomers can feel outmatched during their first few plays. Fortunately, almost all of the information is open, making it easy for experienced players to offer advice without spoiling the experience.
Deep, elegant, and remarkably accessible for its weight, Tapestry remains one of my favourite introductions to heavier Euro gaming.
1. Marco Polo II: In The Service Of The Khan
This is a heavy Euro that I think a lot of people passed on mainly because of the subject matter, but I personally think it’s one of the true standouts in the heavy Euro category.
Now we’re talking about serious Euro gaming.
Marco Polo II: In the Service of the Khan is one of the finest economic strategy games I’ve ever played. Building on the award-winning The Voyages of Marco Polo, it expands the original with more strategic variety, greater flexibility, and a simply fantastic production. I genuinely love both games, but if I had to choose one, Marco Polo II gets the nod.
This is one of those rare games that, while you can play it with up to 4 players, is absolutely best as a duel. In fact, I would argue against playing it any other way.
While the game uses dice, don’t let that fool you into thinking luck dominates the experience. Like The Castles of Burgundy or Catan, the dice create interesting constraints rather than determine the winner. The real challenge is adapting your strategy and making the most of the opportunities you’re given.
There is a lot going on in this game, and the fact that it uses dice does give it that “luck” element that I don’t think everyone will appreciate. That said, you’re not going to win this game because you got lucky with the dice; far from it. The dice are just a factor to contend with in the same way Castles of Burgundy, for example, uses dice.
What I admire most, however, is how competitive the game remains regardless of experience. A veteran will usually make better decisions, but new players rarely feel completely outclassed. Scores stay surprisingly close, and every game feels like a genuine contest rather than a lesson in how much more experienced someone else is.
It’s a wonderfully rich strategy game with enormous replayability, and despite being one of the very best heavy Euros I’ve played, I still think it’s criminally underrated on BoardGameGeek. If you’re ready to dive into the deep end of Euro gaming, I wouldn’t necessarily start here, but you definitely want to end up here at some point.
5. Best Themed Games
One of the greatest strengths of board games is something no other medium can quite replicate: the connection between theme and mechanics. A good board game doesn’t just tell you a story, it makes you live it through the decisions you make.
Most hobby gamers would probably agree that theme alone can’t save a bad game. We’ve all played beautifully produced games with incredible artwork that turned out to be mechanically dull. Equally, we’ve played brilliant abstract designs wrapped in themes so forgettable they could have been about almost anything.
The magic happens when the two come together.
When every mechanic reinforces the theme, every decision feels natural, and you stop thinking about rules and simply start playing the role the game asks of you. That’s when good games become great ones.
The following three games all achieve that in spectacular fashion. They don’t just have great themes; they make you feel like you’re living them.
3. Fury Of Dracula
I will grant you that Fury of Dracula is niche, but the connection between theme and mechanics is so strong and so much fun, it’s not going to be a problem for anyone.
Although Fury of Dracula is designed as a one-versus-many game, I honestly think the very best way to experience it is as a two-player duel.
At its heart, this is a wonderfully atmospheric game of cat and mouse. One player controls Dracula as he secretly moves across Europe, leaving a trail of clues behind, while the other commands the famous vampire hunters in a desperate race to track him down before it’s too late. The day-and-night cycle, hidden movement, and constant sense of uncertainty create a level of tension that very few board games can match.
What I love most is how perfectly the mechanics reinforce the theme. Every clue feels significant, every wrong turn feels costly, and every encounter with Dracula becomes a memorable story in its own right.
The thing with Fury of Dracula, that “niche” part, is that you really want someone who knows how to play Dracula really well. The difficulty is sort of set by that player. A poor performance by Dracula can make it feel flat and disappointing. When Dracula is executed well, however, it’s just a box of fun.
I enjoy the multiplayer version, but I find the constant table discussion often gives away too much information to the Dracula player and introduces long stretches of downtime for the vampire hunters. This dulls down the game and results in a lot of the tension escaping through the cracks. In a two-player game, every decision is immediate, every bluff matters, and the psychological battle between hunter and hunted takes centre stage.
It’s tense, cinematic, endlessly replayable, and one of the finest examples of theme and mechanics working together.
I absolutely adore this game. It does not get to the table often enough.
2. Star Trek Fleet Captains
Star Trek Fleet Captains, for fans of Star Trek, would make this my number one pick without any question. When it comes to picking the best themed game, I effectively picked War of the Rings because I’m a Middle-earth fan first, a Star Trek fan second.
Trekkies are a unique breed of nerd. More than any other fanbase I know, they care about the details, the nuance of the shows and movies. Get those wrong, and they’ll let you know about it.
Star Trek has been adapted into dozens of board games over the years, and if I’m being honest, most of them have ranged from forgettable to downright awful.
Star Trek: Fleet Captains is the exception.
Rather than simply wrapping Star Trek artwork around generic mechanics or trying to squeeze the theme into some adaptation of another game, it is designed from the ground up and captures what Star Trek is actually about. Exploration, diplomacy, scientific discovery, dangerous away missions, impossible decisions, and yes, the occasional spectacular space battle. It understands that combat is only one part of the Star Trek experience, that science and utopian philosophy are the main characters.
Normally, when a game uses stock images, especially in franchise games, I consider it a red flag, a short cut indicitive of what the rest of the game will be like, but in Star Trek Fleet Captains, the characters are the stars of the show, and they are so iconic, so memorable, that I think it just works. It’s not a shortcut so much as a bit part of getting you in the mood.
Every ship, captain, and mission feels like it belongs in the universe, and the two expansions only deepen that experience without losing what made the base game special.
If you’re a Star Trek fan, this is THE board game to own.
And while it supports more players, I honestly think it’s at its absolute best as a two-player duel.
1. War Of The Ring
War Of The Ring is so thematic, it borders on an activity more than a game. You are literally rewriting the Trilogy as you play, making your own decisions, your own story branches, and yet it all culminates in everything wonderful you expect from the Lord of the Rings story. I love this game.
War of the Ring is to Lord of the Rings what Star Trek Fleet Captains is to Star Trek. Same boat, different franchise.
This magnificent asymmetrical strategy game doesn’t simply retell Tolkien’s story, it lets you live it. One player commands the Free Peoples, desperately trying to buy enough time for the Fellowship to reach Mount Doom, while the other unleashes the overwhelming military might of Sauron. Every decision reinforces the central theme of the books: hope triumphing against impossible odds.
It’s a complex game, and I’ll happily admit that the rulebook can be intimidating. But there comes a point where flawless execution outweighs complexity, and War of the Ring crosses that line with ease.
I could write an entire thesis on why this game is so amazing, but all you really need to know is that it just bleeds Lord of the Rings from every orifice, and this is more than enough to satisfy a Lord of the Rings fan. It’s Lord of the Rings, in a box.
This isn’t just another licensed game. It’s an experience.
For many fans, it’s practically a hobby in its own right, offering endless opportunities to relive, or rewrite, one of the greatest fantasy stories ever told.
If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, I honestly can’t recommend a better board game. Accept no substitutes.
6. Best Card-Driven Influence Control
I know this is a strangely specific category. Two things.
First, this is my favourite genre in all of board gaming, so my list, my rules. Indulge me a little here.
Second, I genuinely think this subgenre deserves the attention. There are at least two dozen outstanding two-player card-driven influence games, and narrowing this list down to just three was harder than picking the winners in several of the previous categories. Honestly, this could have been a Top 10 list all by itself.
The genre works so well with two players because it’s built around history’s great rivalries. Whether it’s the Cold War, ancient empires, political struggles, or ideological conflicts, these games are almost always about two opposing forces trying to outmanoeuvre one another through careful planning, clever card play, and long-term positioning rather than outright military conquest. I’ve already snuck in Twilight Struggle in the Best Historical Duel category.
The three games I’ve chosen here represent what I consider the very best the genre has to offer.
That said, they vary enormously in complexity. Some are approachable enough for newcomers, while others demand repeated plays before they truly reveal their brilliance. So while I have a clear winner, the best game for you will depend entirely on how deep you want to dive.
If this genre appeals to you, I’d encourage you to do a little extra research before buying.
3. Washington’s War
It has the look of a very traditional historical war game, and the assumption might be that it’s going to be very complicated, but nothing could be farther from the truth. This game is very light on rules complexity, though it’s quite deep strategically.
Of the three games in this category, Washington’s War is by far the most approachable, making it an excellent introduction to the card-driven influence genre.
Set during the American War of Independence, one player commands the British Empire while the other leads George Washington’s struggling Continental Army. The conflict is beautifully asymmetrical. The British possess overwhelming military strength, while the Americans must survive long enough to build support and ultimately secure French intervention.
The struggle for control of the thirteen colonies creates a wonderfully tense tug-of-war, with influence, positioning, and timing often proving more important than outright military victories.
What makes Washington’s War so appealing is how streamlined it is. Compared to many games in the genre, the rules are refreshingly clean, the number of special exceptions is kept to a minimum, and the card play remains elegant without sacrificing strategic depth.
It’s no surprise that many historical gamers consider it a modern classic. As a spiritual successor to We the People, it refines many of that game’s ideas into a tighter, more accessible package.
Iconic historical leaders are key to the game; they are the movers and shakers that will decide the fate of the war, and this game respects that historical importance through the rules and impact they have on gameplay.
If you’re curious about card-driven influence games but aren’t ready to tackle the heavier titles, Washington’s War is exactly where I’d recommend you begin.
2. Caesar: Rome vs. Gaul
Another cover that has that “historical War Game” look, but the reality is that this is a game I think anyone can learn; in fact, it’s much simpler to get your head around than more popular variants of this mechanic like Twilight Struggle.
Caesar: Rome vs. Gaul is a deeper and more demanding game than Washington’s War, but I still think it’s remarkably approachable for what it is.
The conflict is wonderfully asymmetrical. Caesar commands the disciplined might of the Roman Empire, while the Gauls are little more than scattered tribes desperately trying to resist one of history’s greatest military commanders. Naturally, that means the pressure is on Rome. The Gauls have the advantage of time, difficult terrain, and a defensive position, while Caesar must execute an efficient campaign before the opportunity slips away.
One of the reasons I enjoy introducing this game to new players is that the roles naturally suit different experience levels. A newcomer can take the Gauls, whose strategy is a little more intuitive, while the experienced player tackles the far more demanding challenge of leading Caesar.
War, or perhaps more specifically combat, is a much bigger part in this game than most card-driven influence control games, and it’s a much better game for it.
Despite being a proper wargame, I don’t think it’s any more difficult to learn than many modern heavy Euros. Most of the mechanics are straightforward, and the cards do a fantastic job of bringing the historical figures and events to life while presenting both players with a fascinating strategic puzzle.
Victory for Rome is genuinely difficult, and that’s exactly what makes playing Caesar so rewarding. It’s a bit lopsided, but that is very specifically why I think this game is so good.
1. Imperial Struggle
Imperial Struggle is a pretty complex and deep game, it does favor experience and can be quite unforgiving, but any mistake you make in this game you won’t repeat. There is a natural strategic learning curve here, and you will quickly get your head around it. Just don’t expect to become an expert right away; this game takes many plays to learn to play well.
There isn’t much debate in my mind.
Imperial Struggle is the finest card-driven influence game ever designed, and one of the greatest board games ever made. It currently sits at #2 on my personal Top 20, and I don’t see it moving any time soon.
Set during the century-long global rivalry between Britain and France, the game isn’t simply about military conquest. You’ll compete for influence through diplomacy, economics, colonial expansion, and, when necessary, outright war. Every decision feels like part of a much larger struggle for control of the world.
What elevates Imperial Struggle above almost everything else in the genre is how seamlessly it blends history with gameplay. The mechanics don’t just represent the conflict, they explain it. Before playing this game, I knew surprisingly little about the historical rivalry between these two empires. After dozens of plays and plenty of reading inspired by the game, I’ve come to appreciate just how brilliantly the designers captured this fascinating period of history.
It’s unquestionably a game for experienced players. I wouldn’t recommend it as your first historical game or even your first card-driven influence game.
But it should absolutely be your destination.
I think most look at this map and find it a bit off-putting, even if they appriciate it’s artistic beauty. All of this stuff after a couple of plays, however, will make sense, and by your second or third game you will be able to access the board state at a glance, and that is very specifically because this map is so well made.
Once you’ve worked your way through the genre and finally arrive at Imperial Struggle, you’ll either understand why so many players consider it the benchmark against which every other card-driven influence game is measured or Twilight Struggle will be your favorite game in this genre. There is a reason that the community is split on this, Twilight Struggle is in a sense, the common standard, but if I can be so bold as to say, true aficionados will recognize that Imperial Struggle is the true masterpiece.
7. The People’s Choice
This may be my list, but after so many categories, it only feels fair to let the wider board gaming community have its say as well.
Whether you agree with them or not, there are good reasons these games consistently appear at or near the top of rankings on BoardGameGeek and countless other “best of” lists. They’ve been played by thousands of people, recommended time and time again, and have earned reputations as some of the finest two-player games ever published.
Of course, these rankings change over time. New releases often generate a lot of excitement, and the hobby has a tendency to fall in love with the latest masterpiece before settling into a longer-term consensus.
That’s perfectly fine.
For this category, I’ve combined the community’s favourites while excluding games I’ve already covered elsewhere in this article, along with more niche titles that, while excellent, appeal to a much smaller audience.
These are the games that have achieved something much rarer.
They’re not just critically acclaimed; they’re genuinely popular, widely played, and have become modern classics in the two-player gaming world.
3. Jaipur
I’m not sure I would put this game on any list I would create, but I do appriciate it’s elegant design, straight-to-it gameplay, and fantastic pacing.
Before 7 Wonders Duel, before Patchwork, and before the explosion of dedicated two-player games we enjoy today, there was Jaipur.
Released back in 2009, Jaipur arrived at a time when two-player hobby games were usually long, heavy strategy affairs. Lighter games almost always catered to larger groups, leaving very few options for people simply looking for a fantastic game to play with one other person.
Jaipur changed that.
This wonderfully elegant set-collection game proved that a dedicated two-player game could be quick, approachable, and strategically satisfying without sacrificing depth. It quickly became one of the defining gateway games of the hobby, and for years it was the game almost everyone recommended when someone asked, “What’s the best game for two players?”
In board gaming, a simple-looking game is far more likely to trigger a positive response than a complex-looking one. In particular, a game with pretty but few components does a lot to alleviate that stress casual gamers feel when you open a box.
Although newer titles have inevitably stolen some of the spotlight, Jaipur has quietly endured. Its recent reprint has introduced it to a new generation of players, and it’s still easy to find games on Board Game Arena, a testament to just how timeless the design really is.
To me, Jaipur is one of those games every hobby gamer should experience at least once. Like Catan or Ticket to Ride, it’s become something of a rite of passage.
Nearly two decades later, it’s still one of the finest two-player games ever made.
2. 7 Wonders Duel
7 Wonders Duel is a stone-cold modern classic, of that there is no doubt.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a “Best Two-Player Games” list that didn’t include 7 Wonders Duel. More recently, The Lord of the Rings: Duel for Middle-earth has joined the conversation, but the original remains one of the defining two-player games of the modern era.
When 7 Wonders took the hobby by storm, a dedicated two-player version felt almost inevitable. Remarkably, it wasn’t just a good adaptation; it became a classic in its own right.
It’s a very pretty game; it’s a simple game, yet it’s a strategically deep game. It’s kind of a perfect storm, so I’m not at all surprised by its popularity. The fact that it can be played in under 30 minutes is just a cherry on top.
The game strikes a near-perfect balance between accessibility and depth. The rules are easy to teach, games rarely overstay their welcome, and beneath the elegant drafting system lies a surprising amount of strategic nuance. Whether you’re pursuing science, military dominance, or simply outscoring your opponent, every draft presents meaningful decisions.
More than a decade after its release, 7 Wonders Duel is still a fixture at game nights around the world.
There aren’t many games that can claim that kind of longevity. That’s the mark of a true modern classic, and I agree with it wholeheartedly.
1. Azul
This abstract game from 2017 blew the doors off the board gaming hobby. It’s sitting pretty along with titles like Settlers of Catan and Ticket To Ride in terms of popularity.
While Azul is an outstanding multiplayer game, it loses remarkably little at two players. In fact, it’s become a regular fixture on “Best Two-Player Games” lists, and I completely understand why.
More than just a successful board game, Azul helped define a generation of modern tabletop gaming. Like Settlers of Catan before it, it’s one of those rare titles that escaped the hobby and found its way onto the shelves of mainstream retailers and family homes around the world.
The premise couldn’t be much simpler. Players draft colourful tiles to decorate a palace wall, creating a wonderfully elegant puzzle that can be taught in just a couple of minutes. It’s one of those games that almost anyone can learn, making it a perfect replacement for classic family favourites like UNO or Yahtzee when someone says, “Let’s play a board game.”
I think, when it comes to board games, one universal truth is that people love puzzles.
Despite its simple rules, there’s far more strategy here than first meets the eye. Reading your opponent, timing your drafts, and balancing immediate points against long-term planning creates a game that’s easy to enjoy but difficult to perfect.
Elegant, beautiful, and endlessly replayable, Azul has earned its place as one of the defining modern classics of the hobby, and like all modern classics, there are literally dozens of variants.
8. The Dodo Bird Category
Some games simply go the way of the dodo.
They’re out of print, increasingly difficult to find, and if you do stumble across a copy, there’s a good chance it’ll cost you a small fortune. That makes them difficult to recommend today, at least from a practical standpoint.
But I couldn’t bring myself to leave them off this list.
These are games that, in their prime, would have comfortably earned a place somewhere in the rankings. They’re classics that deserve to be remembered, even if publishers have chosen to let them disappear into history.
Who knows, perhaps one day they’ll return in a shiny new edition.
Until then, these are my favourite extinct two-player masterpieces.
3. Star Wars: The Queen’s Gambit
A franchise game from Avalon Hill is by default a major red flag, but with Queen’s Gambit they really knocked it out of the park.
When The Phantom Menace hit cinemas in 1999, Avalon Hill (under Hasbro) was given the license to produce a board game based on the film. Like most movie tie-ins of the era, expectations were… low.
We couldn’t have been more wrong.
Today, Star Wars: The Queen’s Gambit is one of the rarest and most sought-after modern board games ever produced. If you can even find a copy, expect to pay anywhere between $500 and $1,300 on the secondary market.
The reason is simple: it wasn’t just an impressive production; it was an excellent game.
The Queen’s Gambit recreated all three climactic battles from The Phantom Menace simultaneously. One player commanded the Gungan army against the Trade Federation droids, another led Queen Amidala’s assault on the royal palace, while, towering above it all on a magnificent multi-level board, Darth Maul faced Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi in one of the most iconic lightsaber duels in Star Wars history. While the game could be played multiplayer, it very clearly worksed best as a two-player experience.
The Queen’s Gambit is as much spectacle as it is a game. It’s as much fun to look at as it is to play. Finding a reasonably priced copy of this game is not going to be easy.
Mechanically, it’s surprisingly approachable, but it’s the production that made it unforgettable. Few games have captured the feeling of recreating a movie quite so successfully. Later titles, such as the 2015 edition of Star Wars Risk, borrowed elements of the formula, but none matched the spectacle or table presence of The Queen’s Gambit.
For years, Star Wars fans have hoped for a reprint. While nothing has been officially announced, rumours of a spiritual successor or modern reimagining continue to circulate.
If it ever happens, I’ll be first in line, but don’t get your hopes up!
2. Star Wars: X-Wing
There are a few different editions of this game in terms of rules and releases, but the original, 1st edition Star Wars X-Wing was the best we ever got.
I’m honestly trying not to turn this into a Star Wars list, but some games are simply too good to ignore.
At its peak, Star Wars: X-Wing wasn’t just the best two-player miniatures game on the market, it was arguably one of the best two-player games, period. To this day, I struggle to think of another miniature game that combined accessibility, tactical depth, and cinematic action quite so perfectly.
X-Wing captured the feeling of fast-paced dogfights better than any game before or since. It was simultaneously epic and intimate, with every maneuver dial and every firing arc creating meaningful decisions. In many ways, I never really thought of it as a miniature game; I just thought of it as an exceptionally good game.
A huge part of its success was how approachable it was. The ships came pre-painted, games were played on a compact 3′ x 3′ battlefield, setup took minutes rather than hours, and a competitive collection could be built for roughly the cost of a handful of modern board games. Compared to most miniature systems, it felt refreshingly affordable and easy to get into.
Star Wars dog fighting at it’s best!
During its golden years, X-Wing was an enormous success. Unfortunately, like many collectible miniature games, it eventually became a victim of its own expansion cycle. New releases arrived at an increasingly aggressive pace, balance became more difficult to maintain, and many players felt the focus had shifted from refining the game to continually selling new products. Interest gradually declined, ownership changed hands, and eventually production came to an end. It was, in a way, a victim of its own success, and I would argue corporate greed.
Unlike some of the games in this category, however, X-Wing isn’t impossible to find. Fantasy Flight Games printed enormous quantities of ships over the years, so the second-hand market is still full of them at very reasonable prices.
Officially, though, Star Wars: X-Wing has gone the way of the dodo. And that’s a genuine loss for tabletop gaming.
1. Battlelore
The command and colors system is a lot of fun, but there is no question that this is the definitive variant for me! Although I will say that Battle of Hoth, the latest iteration, is really awesome too and mostly for the same reason.
Richard Borg’s Commands & Colors system has become one of the most successful tabletop wargame engines ever created, spawning adaptations covering everything from the American Civil War to Ancient Rome, Napoleonics, World War II, and even Star Wars.
For fantasy fans, however, there is only one game that truly stands above the rest: BattleLore.
Taking the proven Borg formula and transporting it to the world of Terrinoth was an inspired decision. The familiar command card system remained intact, but the addition of magic, legendary creatures, unique faction abilities, and asymmetrical armies gave BattleLore an identity all of its own. It felt less like a historical simulation and more like a fantasy battlefield where anything could happen.
What made the game truly shine was its range of expansions. New factions, creatures, heroes, and scenarios allowed players to customise the experience in countless ways. Unfortunately, that’s also what makes collecting BattleLore today so painful. The core game is difficult enough to find, but completing a collection now requires a considerable investment on the secondary market.
BattleLore was a lot more unit-focused than other versions of the Command and Color system. The game understood that fantasy monsters needed to be special.
Thankfully, the Commands & Colors system is still alive and well. Games like Star Wars: Battle of Hoth prove that Richard Borg’s design remains as compelling today as ever.
As for BattleLore, I remain optimistic. Unlike other games in this category, this one feels destined for another life.
Here’s hoping someone gives it the reprint it deserves.
9. Best Two-Player Abstract Games
There are already a few abstract games on this list, but by “abstract” I’m talking about games that don’t even pretend to have a theme. These are games that fully embrace the puzzle, strip away the narrative, and rely entirely on clever mechanics and meaningful decisions.
There are a staggering number of abstract two-player games out there. In fact, most pure abstract games are designed specifically for two players, which made this one of the hardest categories to narrow down.
I also think it’s one of the most important categories on the list. While the theme is often what draws hobby gamers in, it can have the opposite effect on people outside the hobby. Asking someone to roleplay a medieval merchant or command an alien invasion isn’t always the easiest sell.
Puzzles, however, are universal.
Abstract games remove that barrier completely. They’re easy to explain, immediately familiar, and appeal to something almost everyone enjoys: solving interesting puzzles. I’ve found they’re often the easiest way to get even the most reluctant non-gamer to sit down at the table, and before long, they’re asking for another game.
3. Hive
Hive is a game, even if you have never played it, that will feel familiar. It has the quintessential “of course something like this exists” thing to it.
While Hive isn’t completely devoid of theme, what’s there exists almost entirely to help identify the different insects and their unique movement. You’re never meant to immerse yourself in the world or tell a story. The theme simply gives the mechanics a memorable face.
At its heart, Hive is a wonderfully elegant abstract game. Each player places insect tiles onto the table, with every piece moving according to its own simple rules. The objective couldn’t be more straightforward: surround your opponent’s Queen Bee before they surround yours.
Despite the simplicity, there’s plenty of room for clever play. Positioning, timing, and anticipating your opponent’s next move are everything. Much like chess, you’re often trying to force a particular response before springing your real plan, although Hive is considerably easier to learn and far less intimidating for newcomers.
It’s compact enough to throw into a backpack, can be played almost anywhere, and takes only a few minutes to teach. That combination of accessibility, portability and strategic depth has made Hive a modern classic.
It may not receive the same attention as some of the bigger names in the hobby, but it’s one of those games I can happily recommend to almost anyone.
2. Onitama
Yes, I hate the shape of this box too, but what is inside is well worth finding an odd place on your game shelf to put this thing.
Very reminiscent of The Duke, which I also love, I don’t feel bad about including both games on this list. They share the same core concept, but each has enough personality to justify its place.
Each player begins with four students and a master on a compact 5×5 board. Rather than every piece having its own movement, players instead share a small pool of movement cards. On your turn, you perform one of the available moves, then pass that card to your opponent and take a new one. It’s an incredibly clever system that ensures the puzzle is constantly evolving throughout the game.
The objective is wonderfully simple. Capture your opponent’s Master or move your own Master into your opponent’s temple.
Like all great abstract games, the rules can be explained in just a few minutes, but mastering the strategy is an entirely different challenge. Every move changes not only the current position but also the options available to both players on future turns, creating an elegant tactical dance where planning ahead is just as important as reacting to what’s in front of you.
Onitama is a kind of modern-day chess, yet oddly enough it feels like an ancient game from China. It’s a thinker, and you can attain a pretty high level of mastery over it.
This is very much a “one more game” kind of experience. Matches are quick, every setup feels different thanks to the randomized movement cards, and it’s the sort of game that quietly keeps finding its way back to the table.
More than a decade after its release, it’s still one of the finest abstract games ever designed, and one that I expect will remain in my collection for many years to come.
1. YINSH
I doubt anyone would ever buy this game on impulse; it’s in the hobby the sort of game that get’s passed around and recommended by gamers to gamers. Which is sad because it really is one of the best abstract games ever made.
Yinsh is part of Kris Burm’s celebrated GIPF Project, a series of abstract games that includes equally strange-sounding titles such as TZAAR, DVONN, ZÈRTZ, LYNGK and, of course, GIPF itself.
I haven’t played every game in the series, so I can’t honestly say how they all compare, but if BoardGameGeek’s rankings are anything to go by, Yinsh is widely regarded as one of the finest. Having played it, I find it hard to disagree, not just in the series but so far as abstract games go in general.
The objective is deceptively simple. Players move rings around the board, leaving markers behind as they travel. Create a line of five markers, and you remove one of your rings from the game. Be the first player to remove three rings, and you win. There are, of course, various shenanigans beyond that, including flipping opponents’ markers.
Explaining the rules is easy. Playing well is another matter entirely.
Yinsh is one of those games that forces your brain to think differently. Every move changes the state of the board, flipping markers, creating new threats and often setting up combinations several turns into the future. It reminds me a little of a more involved Othello or Go in the way every move influences everything around it, yet the puzzle is entirely its own. The strategic possibilities go far deeper than anything I’ve ever been able to master.
It doesn’t look like much, but this game has a very deep level of mastery; it’s a true brain burner. This is a game of pure skill, plain and simple.
For a game with no theme whatsoever, Yinsh also has a wonderful physical presence. The chunky rings, solid components, and clean, minimalist design make it a pleasure to play.
More than twenty years after its release, Yinsh remains one of the premier abstract games ever designed, and I suspect it will still hold that reputation twenty years from now.
10. New Kids On The Block
Thanks to the explosion of board games since the early 2000’s more games are published each year than the year before, so there is never a shortage of new games to try.
Now I consider a game new if it was released in the last 2-3 years, mainly because unless a game is some sort of phenomenon that attracts a lot of attention, it can take that long for a game to get sufficient traction and exposure before you even hear about it, let alone try it.
The following are the three best 2-player games released in the last couple of years.
3. Lord of the Rings: Duel For Middle-Earth
You might assume that this is just 7 Wonders Duel with a Lord of the Rings skin; it is not, and saying that about this game is just willful ignorance.
I already mentioned this game earlier on the list, but I think it’s good enough to deserve a category all of its own.
At its heart, this is clearly built on the foundations of 7 Wonders Duel, but rather than simply applying a Lord of the Rings skin to an existing game, it meaningfully improves the formula.
The familiar drafting remains, but the victory conditions have been reworked to better fit Tolkien’s world. Instead of simply chasing points, players are constantly balancing military control, the Fellowship’s journey to Mount Doom, and the support of Middle-earth’s allies. Every path to victory feels thematic and keeps both players engaged until the very last turn.
For me, this is essentially 7 Wonders Duel 2.0. It takes everything that made the original great, wraps it in one of the greatest fantasy settings ever created, and adds enough new ideas to justify owning both games.
While there is quite a bit going on in this game, the simplicity of the core mechanic maintains it as a casual or newbie-friendly game, much in the way 7 Wonders Duel could be described. It’s just good gaming with a cool theme.
If you pick up the Allies expansion, I think the game gets even better. The unique faction abilities add a welcome layer of asymmetry that makes the Free Peoples and the Shadow feel even more distinct, bringing the theme to life in ways the base game only hints at.
For fans of Tolkien, this is rapidly becoming one of the definitive two-player games, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, ten years from now, it’s remembered even more fondly than the game that inspired it.
2. Dune: War For Arrakis
I don’t doubt its potential, hence its presence on this list, but there are quite a few great interpretations of the Dune universe in board games, many of them are stone-cold classics.
Dune: War for Arrakis sets out to do for Frank Herbert’s universe what War of the Ring did for The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars: Rebellion did for Star Wars. That’s an incredibly ambitious goal, but from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a remarkably successful attempt.
Like those games, War for Arrakis is built around two highly asymmetrical factions battling over the fate of an iconic setting. Event cards bring key moments from the story to the table, action dice drive difficult decisions, and famous units such as the Fremen and the Sardaukar all play exactly the roles you would expect.
I’ve only played it once, so I’m not ready to declare it a masterpiece just yet. A single learning game is rarely enough to fully appreciate something of this size. What I can say is that it immediately gave me the feeling I was hoping for. It felt big, cinematic and unmistakably Dune. That’s often something I can recognise after just one play, and it left me wanting to get it back to the table as soon as possible.
If you’re looking for a great Dune game, Dune: Imperium is still my favourite, especially with three or four players. It’s one of the best worker placement games ever made. War for Arrakis, however, isn’t trying to compete with it. It’s a completely different experience.
In my experience, there are two types of people in the world: people who love Dune and people who hate Dune. I don’t think this game will make you a fan if you’re not already, and if you love Dune, this one is likely going to stick the landing.
This is a game about the war for Arrakis itself. It puts the conflict between House Atreides and House Harkonnen front and centre, delivering the kind of grand, narrative-driven experience that only a dedicated two-player game can provide.
If it continues to impress over repeated plays, I wouldn’t be surprised if it eventually joins the ranks of the genre’s all-time greats.
1. Toy Battle
For anyone active in the hobby of board gaming, seeing Toy Battle on this list should come as no surprise; it’s a phenomenon- this is a game everyone is playing.
With its bright colours, chunky toy soldiers and Saturday morning cartoon presentation, it would be easy to dismiss Toy Battle as a children’s game. I assure you, it’s not.
Toy Battle is one of the smartest two-player games released in years, proving once again that simple rules and deep strategy often make the best combination.
Players deploy units onto the battlefield, each bringing its own unique ability, in an effort to capture the opposing headquarters. The rules can be taught in minutes, but the interaction between unit powers, board positioning and the game’s clever supply line system creates an endlessly fascinating tactical puzzle.
Every decision matters. Commit too early and you leave yourself exposed. Wait too long and your opponent seizes the initiative. It’s one of those rare games where every turn feels important without ever becoming complicated.
Its dominance at the 2025 Golden Geek Awards surprised absolutely nobody. Toy Battle arrived seemingly out of nowhere and immediately established itself as one of the premier two-player games on the market.
Simple to learn, lightning fast to play, yet incredibly rewarding to master, I genuinely believe Toy Battle is well on its way to becoming a modern classic. If people are still talking about it twenty years from now, I won’t be the least bit surprised.
Conclusion and Final Notes
The truth is that I could put this list together 10 times and come up with different games to put into each category, not to mention easily come up with more categories; the goal here isn’t really to make some sort of definitive statement but to expose hobbyists to some games they may or may not have heard of.
To me, a good top 10 list is going to give you a hankering to buy/try something new, and hopefully I have managed that with this list.
Summer can only mean one thing for my gaming group and I. It’s time for our annual board gaming weekend. Once a year, we escape to a sleepy little Swedish town called Hassela for four glorious days dedicated to BBQ, beer, and an unreasonable amount of board games. Over the years, it’s become far more than just another gaming event for us. It’s a tradition, a reunion, and the one weekend of the year where the only schedule that really matters is deciding what game hits the table next, and other critical decisions like whether to drink another beer or two more beers. It’s fucking glorious!
This year, one of the guys built a disc golf course around the property. I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but the entire crew is big into disc golf, so between games we were throwing plastic. It was the first time we did this during Hassela weekend, but I suspect a new tradition has been born. There is no such thing as too much disc golf!
This year, however, carried a little extra significance as we celebrated the 10th consecutive year of this tradition. Reaching that milestone felt worth acknowledging, even if the core formula remained largely unchanged year after year. There was a slight sparkle of nostalgia to the whole weekend.
As always, I’ll be taking you through every game we played, in the exact order they hit the table. We are going to talk about some old favorites that never disappoint, some new exciting discoveries, and a few weak links that even a great gaming weekend couldn’t salvage.
So pour yourself a drink, settle into your favorite chair, and enjoy the list.
Dare I say it, but right out of the gate, I think this one was the highlight of the weekend for me. I really like this one a great deal, fantastic discovery, awesome game!
We kicked off the weekend with Feast for Odin, a Viking-themed worker placement game that most people would comfortably place in the heavier end of the hobby. Whether game complexity can really be measured on a single scale is another discussion entirely, but let’s just say this isn’t the game you introduce to someone whose previous gaming experience begins and ends with Monopoly.
This is one I’ve had my eye on for years. Ever since its release, I’ve heard people sing its praises, yet somehow I’d never managed to get it to the table. Since we only had four players for our opening game, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally discover what all the fuss was about. It would turn out to be a great way to kick off the weekend.
One thing became clear almost immediately: Feast for Odin isn’t your typical worker placement game. In fact, I’d argue that the worker placement mechanism isn’t really the star of the show. Instead, it’s the engine that drives an intricate puzzle made up of resource management, economic planning, and a wonderfully addictive tableau-building system that often feels more like a game of Tetris than a traditional Euro.
There’s certainly no shortage of things to think about. Our rules explanation took the better part of thirty minutes, yet I was surprised by how naturally the game flowed once we got started. Veteran Euro gamers, in particular, should find the core gameplay remarkably intuitive despite the intimidating amount of cardboard spread across the table.
The turn structure itself is refreshingly simple. Place your workers, perform the corresponding action, and continue building your strategy. The brilliance lies in the sheer number of available actions. The board is packed with options, each demanding different numbers of workers and presenting difficult decisions about efficiency, timing, and opportunity cost. That worker allocation quickly becomes a resource puzzle in its own right, and that’s before you even begin wrestling with your ever-growing collection of goods, upgrades, occupations, and that delightfully brain-burning polyomino board.
There is a lot going on in this game, so many options, so many decisions, and despite it all, the game felt tight and constrained. I always felt like there just weren’t enough moves, never enough resources, always so much more I wish I could do.
Feast for Odin really deserves a review of its own, because calling it “A great worker placement game” feels like doing it a disservice. Yes, many of its individual mechanics are familiar, but the way they’re woven together creates something that feels surprisingly fresh. It’s an ambitious design that never feels clever for the sake of being clever, this is just solid, well-organized, and well-tested gameplay.
Despite its intimidating table presence, I found it to be remarkably streamlined. It’s undeniably fiddly, with mountains of components constantly changing hands, but everything serves a purpose. The production is excellent, the artwork fits the theme perfectly, and the strategic depth was almost endless. I’d happily play this one again and can already see why it has remained a modern Euro classic for nearly a decade. It’s certainly not a game I’d recommend to casual gamers, but for anyone who enjoys deep strategic Euros, Feast for Odin absolutely lives up to its reputation. Judging by the smiles, thoughtful nods, and immediate post-game discussion around the table, I wasn’t the only one who walked away impressed.
I have said it many times, and I guess I will say it again, I’m not a huge fan of cooperative games; I find them kind of dull in general. Fate is one of those rare exceptions.
Next up was Fate: Defenders of Grimheim, a cooperative tower defense game from FryxGames that I reviewed earlier this year, where it earned a very respectable 3.95 out of 5 stars. Seeing it languishing somewhere around the 2000 rank on BoardGameGeek genuinely baffles me. Cooperative games are more popular than ever, and this little gem seems to have slipped almost completely under the radar. That’s even more surprising when you remember it’s published by the same people who gave us the amazing Terraforming Mars. Apparently, not every Viking gets invited to Valhalla.
To me, Fate is as much an activity as it is a game. It’s the sort of title you can throw onto the table without anyone sighing as a three-foot-long rulebook appears. Within minutes, you’re rolling dice, defending the village, and wondering how everything has already gone horribly wrong.
What I enjoy most is where it fits in a gaming weekend like this one. After spending several hours calculating twelve turns into the future in a heavy Euro, sometimes your brain simply files for bankruptcy. That’s where Fate shines. It’s engaging without being exhausting, challenging without being punishing, and quick enough that nobody starts checking the clock halfway through.
Don’t mistake its accessibility for simplicity, though. Fate has a nasty habit of lulling you into a false sense of security before unleashing wave after wave of increasingly unpleasant monsters. Just when you think you’ve stabilized the board, Grimheim politely reminds you that it has absolutely no interest in your plans. It’s the board game equivalent of finally plugging one leak in a boat only to discover three more.
The artwork is gorgeous, the turns fly by at a brisk pace, and the constant pressure keeps everyone involved from beginning to end. If you’re looking for a cooperative game that actually puts up a fight instead of holding your hand to victory, Fate is well worth your time.
A fantastic game, and one I continue to think deserves far more attention than it’s currently getting.
Making its first appearance at one of our Hassela weekends was Sushi Go, a game that has quietly become something of a modern classic in the filler category. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d call it the hobby equivalent of UNO. The difference, of course, is that it doesn’t suck.
At its heart, Sushi Go is an incredibly simple drafting and collection game. You pick a card, pass your hand, repeat, and somehow those few simple decisions become surprisingly engaging. Better yet, it introduces players to one of the hobby’s most fundamental mechanics: drafting. If you’re planning on exploring modern board games, you’ll encounter this mechanism over and over again, and Sushi Go is probably one of the gentlest introductions you could ask for.
I’ll admit that I don’t spend much time reviewing fillers. Most of them do exactly what they’re supposed to do, entertain for fifteen minutes before making way for the next big game. They’re the opening act, not the headliner.
That said, I firmly believe every collection needs games like this. If your goal is to introduce new people to the hobby, you don’t start by dropping Twilight Imperium on the table and casually mentioning that setup is only forty-five minutes. You start with games like Sushi Go, it’s that first taste to get them started. They’re approachable, charming, easy to teach, and most importantly, they leave people wanting to play another game rather than making excuses to go home.
If I ever write a “Ten Games Every Collection Should Own” article, I have a feeling Sushi Go will be somewhere on that list. Not because it’s the deepest or most innovative game ever made, but because it does exactly what it sets out to do with remarkable efficiency. Sometimes that’s all a game needs to be.
Next up was Star Wars: Bounty Hunters, a lightweight card game built around collecting bounty hunters, hunting down targets, and completing contracts for points. Mechanically, it’s all about assembling the right combinations of cards. The elevator pitch, however, is considerably shorter: “It’s Star Wars.” And… well, that’s about all it has going for it.
And to be fair, that does a lot of the heavy lifting. The artwork is excellent, the production is solid, and if seeing Boba Fett, Bossk, Cad Bane, and friends spread across the table makes you smile, the game scores a few easy points before you’ve even shuffled the deck.
Unfortunately, once the game actually begins, things become a little… quiet.
My biggest criticism is the almost complete lack of player interaction. Everyone is essentially sitting at the table solving their own little optimization puzzle, occasionally glancing up just long enough to confirm that yes, it is now their turn. It’s less “bounty hunters competing across the galaxy” and more “four people politely doing paperwork together.”
That’s a real problem for a filler game in my opinion.
To me, fillers have a very specific purpose. They’re there to break the ice, reset everyone’s brain after a heavier game, or introduce new players to the hobby. They’re supposed to generate conversation, laughter, dramatic groans when someone steals your card, and the occasional “Oh, come on!” from across the table. They’re social lubricants disguised as games.
Star Wars: Bounty Hunters doesn’t really do any of that.
Instead, it feels like four people independently playing solitaire while occupying the same table. And if I’m going to play solitaire, I’d at least like the courtesy of not having to wait for everyone else’s turn.
Epochs: Course of Cultures was another game I reviewed earlier this year, earning a respectable 3.6 out of 5 stars. Despite what I’m about to say, I genuinely think it’s a very good game and one I’m always happy to see hit the table.
My biggest issue with Epochs isn’t really the game itself. It’s the expectations it creates.
At first glance, everything about it screams “civilization builder.” You’ve got technologies, expansion, a map, different cultures, and the familiar journey through history. Naturally, I went in expecting something that would scratch the same itch as Civilization, Through the Ages, or any number of empire-building classics.
It doesn’t.
Not because it’s a bad game, but because beneath the historical artwork and civilization theme lies a very elegant Euro resource management game wearing a Civilization costume. It’s like turning up to what you thought was a Viking reenactment only to discover it’s actually an accounting seminar. A very well-run accounting seminar… but still.
Mechanically, the game is excellent. Resources are tight, every decision matters, and there’s a constant balancing act between short-term efficiency and long-term scoring opportunities. It’s exactly the sort of puzzle Euro fans love to sink their teeth into.
Where it falls short for me is in creating the illusion that I’m actually guiding a civilization through history.
Take technology, for example. In many civilization games, researching a new technology feels like making an important strategic decision. Do you pursue military dominance? Scientific advancement? Economic superiority? Those choices shape your civilization’s identity.
In Epochs, technology is largely another cog in the resource engine. You’ll draw a card, play it, gain some resources or a useful ability, and continue optimizing your point-generating machine. Mechanically, it works beautifully. Thematically, it rarely feels like your civilization has just invented writing, discovered gunpowder, or unlocked electricity. It feels more like you’ve collected another efficient converter.
That’s really my criticism in a nutshell. The game is so heavily abstracted that the historical theme sometimes feels like wallpaper. Attractive wallpaper, certainly, but wallpaper nonetheless.
Ironically, I think that’s also one of the game’s greatest strengths. By stripping away much of the thematic overhead, the designers created a remarkably streamlined strategy game that moves at an impressive pace. There are very few wasted turns, plenty of meaningful decisions, and enough strategic depth to keep experienced Euro gamers thoroughly engaged.
So no, Epochs doesn’t satisfy my craving for an epic civilization experience. When I want to watch an empire rise from mud huts to moon landings, I’ll probably reach for something else.
But when I’m in the mood for a clever, highly competitive resource management game with a civilization theme draped over it like a very convincing Halloween costume?
Epochs is an excellent choice because it’s an excellent game.
It’s a fine mechanic and cool, condensed war game, but I think veteran gamers who have been around the block once or twice will probably find it a bit random. There is just too little control in the game for it to fall into the category of “strategic”. There is no dice, yet it manages to be chaotic just the same.
Battle for Rokugan has made several appearances at our Hassela weekends over the years, but this time it landed with something of a thud.
Part of that is simply the nature of war games. They’re a very particular breed of board game, and they tend to shine only when everyone at the table is in the mood to bluff, threaten, negotiate, and occasionally stab one another in the back. If half the table is looking for a relaxed evening, a war game can feel like showing up to a pillow fight wearing full plate armor.
That said, I think the bigger issue this time was Battle for Rokugan itself.
The core idea is fantastic. Each player secretly draws six command tokens representing attacks, defenses, raids, diplomacy, and various special actions. Those tokens are placed face down across the map, creating a tense battlefield where nobody quite knows what anyone else is planning.
In theory, that’s brilliant.
In practice, it often feels like everyone is making wildly confident tactical decisions based on almost no useful information whatsoever.
You’re being attacked from three directions. You’re launching attacks of your own. Someone has fortified a province. Someone else has placed a diplomacy token. Somewhere on the map lurks a devastating bluff… or maybe it’s absolutely nothing.
The problem is that you rarely have enough information to make what I’d call genuinely informed decisions. You don’t know how strong an attack is, where the real threats lie, or whether you’re walking straight into disaster. There are a handful of ways to gather intelligence, but for most of the game you’re essentially fighting a war while wearing a blindfold and hoping your instincts are better than everyone else’s.
Now, there’s certainly a place for uncertainty in war games. Hidden information creates tension, and tension creates memorable moments. But Battle for Rokugan sometimes crosses the line where uncertainty starts feeling less like clever bluffing and more like educated guesswork.
It’s impossible not to compare it to Game of Thrones: The Board Game, which clearly served as one of its inspirations. There, the hidden information lies primarily in the orders players assign to their armies. The armies themselves are visible, their strengths are known, alliances can be inferred, and experienced players can often piece together what their opponents are trying to accomplish.
Battle for Rokugan hides almost everything.
As a result, many of your decisions feel reactive rather than tactical. Instead of outsmarting your opponents, you’re often hoping your hidden token happens to be better than theirs.
What’s interesting is that I probably wouldn’t have written this a few years ago. In fact, Battle for Rokugan actually appeared on my Top 10 War Games list back in 2020. Since then I’ve played a lot more war games, and I think my expectations for the genre have changed. If I were rewriting that list today, I’m not convinced Battle for Rokugan would survive the cut.
That’s not to say it’s a bad game.
Quite the opposite, really.
It’s fast, incredibly easy to teach, has virtually no rules overhead, and manages to deliver a condensed war game experience in under an hour without rolling a single die. That’s an impressive achievement, and it’s exactly why I still think it deserves a place in my collection.
If someone asked me to introduce them to area-control games, I’d happily pull Battle for Rokugan off the shelf.
If they asked me to play Risk instead…
…I’d mysteriously remember that I have somewhere else to be.
Battle for Rokugan may no longer be one of my favorite war games, but it’s still a perfectly respectable gateway into the genre, and for that alone, it’s worth keeping around.
This 2015 Kennerspiel des Jahres winner has comfortably earned its place in my collection over the years, and judging by the reactions around the table, it made a pretty good impression on the rest of the crew as well.
At its heart, Broom Service is a wonderfully streamlined game about flying witches around a colorful fantasy landscape, delivering potions for victory points. The strategic objective couldn’t be simpler. You can usually identify exactly where you want to go, what potions you need, and which routes will get you there most efficiently.
Actually getting there, however, is where things get interesting.
Every round, you select just four cards from a deck of ten, each representing a different character with a unique ability. Whenever one of those characters is played, every player holding the same card must also play it and must also decide whether to play it as Brave or Cowardly.
Being Brave gives you the powerful version of the action, unless someone after you in turn order is also feeling brave. In that case, they steal your action, and you get nothing, and your fearless witch suddenly looks considerably less heroic.
Choosing the Cowardly action guarantees you’ll get to do something, but it’s a much weaker and less efficient version of the effect. A Mountain Witch, for example, can both move and deliver a potion when she’s feeling brave, but if she’s cowardly, she’ll merely shuffle up the mountain and call it good enough.
It’s such a brilliantly simple mechanism because every decision becomes a psychological game. Do you risk the stronger action, hoping nobody else has the same card? Or do you play it safe and settle for the weaker effect?
Better yet, every card played forces every other player holding that card to reveal their intentions immediately, so the round develops into this wonderfully tense sequence of deductions, educated guesses, and the occasional spectacular act of overconfidence, while at the same time may completely break the sequence of players intended for their cards.
There’s an amusing tension around turn order. Going first lets you dictate the flow of the round and which cards will be played first, but it also paints a giant target on your back. The earlier you declare a Brave action, the more players there are who can gleefully ruin your day.
It’s one of those mechanics that’s incredibly elegant because it creates constant interaction and tension without adding complexity. Every turn keeps everyone engaged, and there’s always a reason to pay attention to what everyone else is doing.
I’ve loved Broom Service ever since I first played it; its accolades are well deserved. It’s not really a heavy gamer’s game, and it isn’t trying to be. It sits comfortably in that sweet spot between family game and gateway Euro, where the rules are simple enough for almost anyone to learn, yet the decisions are interesting enough that experienced gamers still have a great time.
It’s quick, easy to teach, delightfully interactive, and just plain fun.
If you’ve got a family that enjoys board games, or you’re looking for a game that can bridge the gap between casual players and hobby gamers, Broom Service remains an easy recommendation.
Bang! The Dice Game is more than just another filler in our collection. At this point, it’s practically a Hassela tradition. Every year it finds its way onto the table, and every year it delivers exactly what it’s supposed to.
That’s because Bang! isn’t really about the mechanics.
In fact, if someone asked me to recommend the very best social deduction game on the market, Bang! There would be a long list that didn’t include Bang!. There are games that are deeper, cleverer, and mechanically more refined.
But very few create an atmosphere quite like this one.
Within minutes, accusations are flying across the table, alliances are being forged and immediately broken, and someone is loudly insisting they’re “obviously the Deputy” despite having just emptied a revolver into the Sheriff. It’s complete nonsense… and it’s glorious.
That’s exactly what I want from a filler game.
I don’t necessarily want a brilliant strategic masterpiece between heavier games. I want something that wakes everyone up, gets people talking, generates a few memorable moments, and leaves the table laughing before we move on to the next big event. Bang! nails that job like a pro.
The premise couldn’t be simpler. Everyone is secretly assigned a role. The Sheriff and Deputies are trying to bring law to the Wild West. The Outlaws are trying to gun down the Sheriff. The Renegade is… well… complicated. They ultimately want the Sheriff dead too, but only after everyone else has been dealt with. It’s the sort of life plan that requires impeccable timing.
The Sheriff is the only player whose identity is public. Everyone else spends the early game trying to work out who they can trust, all while desperately trying not to reveal their own allegiance too early.
Gameplay itself is driven by Yahtzee-style dice rolling. You’ll be shooting other players, healing yourself, collecting Indian arrows that inevitably come back to haunt everyone, and occasionally unleashing the infamous Gatling Gun, which has all the subtlety of solving an argument with a flamethrower.
The beauty of the game is that nobody really knows who they’re supposed to be shooting at during those opening rounds.
Was that attack an honest mistake? Is your neighbor secretly an Outlaw?
Did your teammate just accidentally shoot you… or was that “accidentally” doing a lot of heavy lifting?
Eventually, the masks come off, bullets start flying in earnest, and someone inevitably realizes they’ve spent the last three rounds enthusiastically helping the wrong team.
It’s a fun game for the first four or five monsters, but it just drags on a bit too long.
Cutthroat Caverns holds a special place in Hassela history. It wasn’t just one of the games we played at our very first gaming weekend ten years ago… It was the first game.
So bringing it back for our tenth anniversary felt strangely appropriate. There was a healthy dose of nostalgia around the table, mixed with the realization that most of us could barely remember how to play it. It had been so long that the opening turns almost felt like discovering the game all over again.
Then the backstabbing started.
The premise is absolutely brilliant and feels tailor-made for a group of old RPG nerds. You play a band of adventurers descending into a dungeon to defeat a series of terrifying monsters. Sounds heroic enough.
Except everyone secretly wants to be the hero.
You earn prestige by landing the killing blow on each monster, so while everyone needs to cooperate to survive, everyone also wants everyone else to do just enough work that they can swoop in at the last second, dramatically stab the beast through the eye, and loudly declare, “You’re welcome.”
It’s wonderfully evil. The game constantly asks one simple question:
“How helpful can I afford to be?”
Help too much and someone else steals all the glory. Sabotage your companions too aggressively and suddenly, nobody is strong enough to kill the monster. Congratulations. Your selfishness has successfully doomed the entire party.
It’s probably the most accurate simulation of a dysfunctional Dungeons & Dragons party I’ve ever played.
That push-and-pull creates some genuinely hilarious moments. Temporary alliances form and collapse within minutes, players quietly count damage around the table trying to engineer the perfect finishing blow, and everyone becomes just a little bit suspicious whenever someone claims they’re “only trying to help.”
Conceptually, I still think it’s fantastic. Unfortunately, there’s two glaring problems that are impossible to ignore.
For one, the game simply goes on for too long.
The first few encounters are excellent. Everyone is learning the monsters, testing the waters, and gleefully sabotaging one another. The tension is high, the jokes are flowing, and every fight feels different.
By the seventh, eighth, and ninth monster, however, the magic starts to wear off. The core joke has already landed…Several times.
What should feel like an epic final showdown instead becomes a finish line everyone is quietly hoping to reach quicker. That’s never where you want a game to end.
It’s a shame because the underlying design is genuinely clever. Trim the experience down to four or five encounters and I honestly think this could have been a cult classic.
The problem is that the balancing is such that the monsters are not really a huge danger; you really need a lot of encounters and several intentional failures to kill the monsters that wear down the party for there to be any real threat of getting knocked out of the game, and that aspect of balancing can and does extend the game even longer.
For example, in our game, I could have continually sabotaged a specific player who was ahead, but it would have added half a dozen rounds to the game for that strategy to be successful enough to take them out, and honestly, I just let them win to avoid having to play that many more rounds. It was already taking forever.
As it stands, I’m really glad we dusted it off for the tenth anniversary. Revisiting old favorites is part of what Hassela is all about.
That said…
…I think I’ve had my nostalgia fix for another decade.
I’ve never reviewed it, but I suspect it would rate very high. Absolutetly brilliant.
Despite sitting comfortably inside the top 500 on BoardGameGeek, Smartphone Inc. remains, in my opinion, one of the most criminally underrated board games ever made. It’s one of the most elegant, innovative, and brilliantly designed Euros I’ve ever played, and it has never failed to impress every time it’s hit the table.
In fact, I genuinely believe that if more people actually played it, Smartphone Inc. would be a serious contender for the Top 50 on BoardGameGeek. Maybe even the Top 10. I’m completely convinced of it.
So why isn’t it?
My best guess is the theme… and that wonderfully questionable box cover featuring a bearded hipster who looks like he’s about to pitch me his latest cryptocurrency startup. It’s hardly the kind of artwork that screams, “One of the best economic strategy games you’ll ever play.”
Which is a shame. Because underneath that slightly uninspiring cover is an absolute masterpiece.
Smartphone Inc. is an economic game about developing, manufacturing, marketing, and selling mobile phones across competing global markets. On paper, that sounds about as exciting as reading a quarterly shareholder report. Yet, despite that depiction, I think it’s phenomenal.
Every round is packed with agonizing decisions. Every choice matters. Every market feels fiercely contested. The game strips away almost all unnecessary complexity, leaving behind an incredibly clean and focused economic puzzle where every action has meaningful consequences.
Whenever someone asks me for a Euro recommendation, Smartphone Inc. is almost always the first title that comes to mind. It’s become something of my hobby’s best-kept secret, a hidden gem that somehow slipped past far more people than it ever deserved to.
What makes it even more impressive is how approachable it is.
Smartphone delivers the satisfaction and strategic depth of games like Brass: Birmingham or Ark Nova, but without asking you to dedicate an entire afternoon. The rules are surprisingly straightforward, the gameplay flows effortlessly, and the advertised playtime is one of the rare occasions where the box isn’t lying to you. Even with five players, you’re looking at roughly ninety minutes from setup to final scoring.
In today’s world of sprawling three-four and even five hour Euros, that’s almost refreshing.
The game is polished to an almost absurd degree. Every mechanism feels refined, every system feeds naturally into the next, and there’s barely an ounce of wasted design anywhere in the box.
That said, I do think there’s one caveat. You really want five players.
I’ve played Smartphone with three and four players plenty of times, and it’s still a very good game. But add that fifth player and something magical happens.
Suddenly, every market becomes fiercely contested. Every pricing decision is absolutely game-defining. Every expansion plan collides with someone else’s ambitions. Instead of executing your own strategy in relative peace, you’re constantly adapting to the decisions of two or three opponents trying to accomplish exactly the same thing.
The competition becomes ruthless.
There are no comfortable engines quietly humming along in the corner. No one gets left alone for very long. Every victory feels earned because every point has been fought over.
To me, Smartphone at five players isn’t just better than Smartphone at three or four. It’s an entirely different experience.
If there’s one game from this entire Hassela weekend that I’d love to see receive the recognition it deserves, it’s this one. Smartphone Inc. isn’t simply underrated.
It’s one of the hobby’s great hidden treasures.
And if you consider yourself a Euro gamer and haven’t played it yet, I’d go as far as saying you’re missing out on one of the best designs of the last decade.
Epic Spell Wars of the Battle Wizards: Duel at Mt. Skullzfyre (BBG Rank 2663)
Some games are best thought of as activities rather than games in the traditional sense. Epic Spell Wars of the Battle Wizards firmly belongs in that category.
I’m not even entirely convinced it’s a strategy game. At least not if your definition of strategy involves carefully planning your moves and consistently making better decisions than your opponents. Epic Spell Wars is a spectacular collision of outrageous card combinations, take-that mechanics, and just enough randomness to ensure that even the best-laid plans can explode in your face without warning. It’s less about executing a strategy and more about embracing the chaos.
The premise is wonderfully absurd. Each player is a battle wizard constructing increasingly ridiculous spells by combining different cards in an attempt to obliterate everyone else around the table. The goal is simple: be the last wizard standing. How you get there is another matter entirely, because the game delights in throwing unexpected twists, broken combinations, and moments of glorious misfortune at every player.
Mechanically, it’s perfectly serviceable, but that’s not why anyone remembers Epic Spell Wars. The real star of the show is its presentation. The artwork is absolutely phenomenal, genuinely some of the best gonzo comic-book-inspired illustration you’ll find in any board game. Every card is packed with personality, and the over-the-top spell names are worth reading aloud simply because they’re so wonderfully ridiculous. Half the entertainment comes from watching someone proudly announce the horrifying magical abomination they’ve just assembled.
That’s ultimately what makes the game work. Nobody sits down expecting a finely balanced strategic masterpiece. They sit down expecting complete nonsense, ridiculous moments, and plenty of laughter, and Epic Spell Wars delivers exactly that. It’s loud, juvenile, unapologetically silly, and knows precisely what it wants to be.
It’s the perfect game for a table full of friends, a few drinks, and a weekend where nobody has anywhere else they’d rather be.
When I saw Cascadia sitting at number 60 on BoardGameGeek, I genuinely did a double-take. Not because I think it’s a bad game, quite the opposite. Cascadia is a clever, elegant little design that I thoroughly enjoyed playing.
What surprised me is just how high it sits.
No matter how I look at it, I struggle to see this as one of the sixty greatest board games ever made. Personally, I would have expected it somewhere much further down the rankings. Not because it’s lacking in quality, but because it doesn’t really do anything particularly new or surprising, we are talking about a basic tile-laying game made in 2021.
Then again, BoardGameGeek rankings have always existed in their own strange little universe. We live in a world where Crokinole, a game designed in 1876 that essentially involves flicking wooden discs across a board, is ranked even higher. Clearly, trying to rationalize BGG rankings is a fool’s errand.
Cascadia is, at its heart, a very straightforward tile-laying game. You draft a terrain tile and an animal token, add them to your growing landscape, and score points by arranging everything as efficiently as possible. It’s clean, intuitive, and remarkably easy to teach, but that’s it, there is nothing else.
The thing is, almost every mechanic in the game feels immediately familiar. If you’ve played a reasonable number of modern board games, you can practically guess the rules just by looking at the board. There’s no flashy twist, no surprising hybrid mechanism, and no big “aha!” moment where the design suddenly reveals something you’ve never seen before.
That’s not necessarily a criticism. Sometimes executing familiar ideas exceptionally well is enough.
For me, though, Cascadia feels almost too streamlined. It’s like a worker placement game that consists entirely of placing workers, or a deck-building game where the only thing you ever do is buy better cards. Everything works exactly as intended, but I kept waiting for the game to reveal that extra layer, that little spark that would elevate it from “very good” to “something special.”
It never really arrived.
Ironically, I think the designers probably felt something similar, considering the number of expansions that have appeared since release. They all seem to add the sort of additional wrinkles I found myself looking for during the base game.
None of this is to say Cascadia isn’t a good game. It absolutely is.
In fact, I completely understand why it’s become such a hit. It’s approachable, relaxing, beautifully produced, and has that rare elegance where almost anyone can sit down and understand it within a few minutes.
Personally, though, if someone asked me to recommend a tile-laying game, Cascadia wouldn’t be my first choice. I’d happily point them toward Harmonies, for example, which I think delivers a more interesting puzzle and a more satisfying gameplay arc.
One thing I will say about Cascadia is that, like Sushi Go, it introduces a very basic principle of board gaming you are going to see in a lot of games (Tile Laying), so in that way, it makes for a pretty good introduction to board games.
Would I play Cascadia again? Absolutely.
Would I rank it among the sixty greatest board games ever made?
On the drive home, one of my friends summed up Hansa Teutonica by calling it “clever, but boring.” I couldn’t help but laugh because, honestly, that’s probably how I’d describe most classic Euro games.
Excitement has never really been the selling point of games about medieval trade routes and little wooden cubes. If you’re looking for cinematic moments, dramatic storytelling, or thematic immersion, you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. What classic Euros offer instead is elegant design, fascinating decision spaces, and the satisfaction of solving an intricate strategic puzzle. They’re less about living a story and more about exploring a mechanical system, and that’s exactly what defines the genre. Rarely is a game you play once and discover something wonderful; Euro cube pushers demand repeat plays.
So yes, I actually think “clever but boring” is a perfectly fair description of Hansa Teutonica.
The theme is about as dry as board games get, and the gameplay loop can be summarized almost entirely as “put cubes on the board.”
Yet despite that, Hansa Teutonica still sits at number eleven on my own Top 20 Games list, and I’m more than happy to defend that position.
The reason is simple. It does something that surprisingly few Euro games are willing to do: it forces players into direct conflict.
Not the usual passive-aggressive Euro interaction where someone quietly steals the action space you wanted. Hansa Teutonica demands genuine competition. Every move has consequences, every route is contested, and every decision creates opportunities for someone else. You’re constantly manipulating the board while simultaneously manipulating your opponents.
The strategic depth is remarkable. Beneath the deceptively simple act of placing cubes lies an intricate web of efficiency puzzles, engine building, timing windows, and tactical positioning. Winning isn’t about discovering some hidden strategy. It’s about consistently finding the most efficient move, turn after turn after turn.
What makes repeated plays so rewarding is how dramatically the game changes depending on the experience level of the people around the table.
There simply isn’t enough room for everyone to pursue every strategy. You have to carve out your own niche while constantly reacting to everyone else’s plans. If your opponents ignore you for too long, you’ll quietly build an unstoppable engine. Conversely, if you can force someone to spend turns disrupting your position, you’ve often created opportunities elsewhere that benefit you even more.
That push and pull creates some wonderfully subtle mind games.
At one point during our game, I found myself getting genuinely annoyed by a move one of my friends made because it looked like he’d just handed another player a game-winning opportunity. From where I was sitting, he was king-making.
Only later did I realize what had actually happened. He wasn’t helping our opponent at all. He was baiting me. And it worked.
He knew I couldn’t ignore the move; it would have been insane for me to do so. He knew exactly how I’d respond, and by forcing me to deal with it, he’d quietly opened up the part of the board he really cared about. I walked straight into the trap, exactly as he’d planned.
I hate when people do that. I also absolutely love games that let them.
Those little traps, feints, and counterplays are where Hansa Teutonica really shines. The more experienced everyone at the table becomes, the richer those interactions get.
I’ll freely admit this isn’t a game for everyone. It’s dry, unapologetically abstract, and probably about as exciting to watch as an accounting convention.
But if you’re the sort of player who enjoys elegant systems, razor-sharp interaction, and the satisfaction of outthinking your opponents rather than out-rolling them, Hansa Teutonica remains one of the finest Euro games ever designed.
Ten years after I first played it, I still think it’s one of the best cube pushers the hobby has ever produced.
Another permanent fixture of the Hassela weekend is the magnificent Condottiere, a game that is now thirty years old and has somehow refused to age. It’s one of those rare designs that feels just as fresh today as it did when it was released, and every time it hits the table I’m reminded why it’s remained in my collection for so long.
At first glance, Condottiere looks like a straightforward trick-taking card game with a simple area-control board tacked on. In reality, it’s the marriage of those two mechanics that makes the game so special.
The objective couldn’t be simpler. Win battles to place your cubes on the map, and be the first player to connect three adjacent territories to claim victory.
Easy. Except it isn’t.
Every battle is a miniature game of timing, bluffing, and resource management. Your hand of cards represents your army, but unlike most trick-taking games, winning every battle is often the fastest way to lose the war.
The reason is that your cards are a finite resource. The ten cards you receive may need to carry you through multiple battles, and new cards are only dealt when nobody is willing, or able, to continue fighting. Every powerful card you spend now is one you won’t have available when the battle that might actually matter begins.
That single design decision completely transforms the game.
Suddenly, every battle becomes a negotiation. Is this province worth fighting over? Can I bluff my opponents into spending valuable cards while I quietly pull my troops from the battlefield? Should I sacrifice this battle entirely in order to dominate the next one?
Those questions are where Condottiere truly shines.
Adding even more depth are the various special cards that manipulate combat strength, cancel effects, or completely change the state of the battlefield. It’s rarely enough to simply play your highest-valued card and hope for the best. Success comes from luring opponents into committing their resources before revealing the clever little trick you’ve been holding all along.
Meanwhile, the board itself slowly tightens like a noose.
Once a cube has been placed, it never leaves the map. Safe territories disappear, critical choke points emerge, and every remaining battle becomes increasingly important. By the late game, a single province can determine the winner, and everyone around the table knows it.
I’ve been singing the praises of Condottiere for years, and this latest playthrough did absolutely nothing to change my opinion.
It’s elegant, interactive, wonderfully tense, and proof that great design never goes out of style.
Quite simply, it’s one of the finest card games I’ve ever played, and if you’ve never experienced it, I think you’re missing one of the hobby’s true classics.
Blood Rage occupies a unique place in the history of GamersDungeon. In well over a decade of reviewing board games, it remains the only game I’ve ever awarded a perfect 5 out of 5 stars. Ten years later, having played many games since that review, I wouldn’t change a single word.
It remains, in my opinion, one of the finest board games ever designed.
Everything about Blood Rage feels deliberate. The mechanics, the theme, the artwork, the miniatures, the pacing, the replayability, it all comes together with an elegance that’s incredibly rare. It’s one of those games where every system reinforces every other system, creating an experience that’s greater than the sum of its already impressive parts.
It’s also become something of a Hassela tradition. At this point, I’d be more surprised if Blood Rage didn’t make an appearance.
What I love most about the design is that it’s really three different games seamlessly woven together.
First, there’s the drafting phase, where players build their strategy by selecting cards that shape everything they’ll attempt during the coming Age. Every draft feels meaningful because you’re not only improving your own position, but you’re denying powerful combinations to your opponents.
Then comes the area control game. Clans spread across the map, battles erupt over provinces, monsters stomp into play, and everyone races to pillage the richest territories before Ragnarök inevitably wipes parts of the world from existence.
On paper, that’s already an excellent game. But the real game…
…is watching everyone else.
Blood Rage is one of the few area control games where paying attention to your opponents is more important than executing your own strategy. Every drafted card, every troop placement, every suspicious move tells a story about what someone is trying to accomplish, and there is far more to gain from denial than anything else. Success isn’t simply about building the strongest engine or winning the biggest battles. It’s about identifying everyone else’s plan and finding the perfect moment to dismantle it.
That’s where Blood Rage separates itself from the crowd. For all its brilliance, though, it isn’t a forgiving game.
There are very few safety nets here. No generous catch-up mechanisms. No rubber-banding. If you make poor decisions during the first Age, you’ll often spend the rest of the game trying to recover while stronger players steadily pull away. Blood Rage rewards good play and punishes mistakes with remarkable efficiency.
Personally, I love that. When I lose a game of Blood Rage, I almost always know why.
The good news is that despite offering all the depth of a sprawling area-control game, it remains remarkably quick. That advertised 60 to 90 minute playtime is refreshingly accurate, making it easy to get to the table far more often than many games in the genre.
It also scales beautifully, though I still think five players with the expansion is the definitive way to experience it. More players means more conflict, more competition, more spectacular betrayals, and more opportunities for those unforgettable moments that Blood Rage consistently delivers.
I’ve said it before, and another playthrough only reinforced the point.
Blood Rage isn’t my favorite area-control game, but there is no question it’s one of the finest board games ever made, and more than a decade later, I still haven’t played anything that has convinced me otherwise.
And that’s all, folks!
It was another amazing year, and sitting here writing about it reminds me of the tragedy of having this fantastic event behind me. I have to wait a year to do another one!
That doesn’t mean there won’t be BBQ’s, Beers and Boardgames between now and then, but the Hassela weekend is special, it’s unique, and as nerdy and as immature as it might sound, it’s very important. Traditions are one of the corner stones to a happy life, it gives you something to look forward too and I already can’t wait until next year!
People are always telling me that I should do more Top 10 lists. They’re a staple of the hobby, and to be fair, I used to write a lot more of them in the past. I get it, I like them too. The problem is that whenever I sit down to make one, I inevitably end up recreating some version of my annual Top 20 Games of all time list. After a while, it starts to feel less like a new article and more like I’m just changing the title and hoping nobody notices.
This year, however, I’ve spent a lot more time playing games on Board Game Arena, the digital board gaming site. If you’ve never used it and are a board game fan, you definitely should give it a go. It’s probably one of the best resources available for trying games before deciding whether they’re worth buying. The library is enormous, especially if you’re a fan of Eurogames, and there’s always something new to discover as games are added all the time.
One of the unexpected benefits of BGA is that it exposes me to games I would not ordinarily pick up and probably not otherwise ever try. Some of those games have turned out to be absolute gems. Even more interesting, certain games actually play better online than they do on the table. Some games are fiddly with endless bookkeeping, complicated scoring, or enough upkeep to qualify as a part-time job. When all of that is automated, a game can suddenly become a much smoother and more enjoyable experience online than it ever could offline.
In fact, I’ve caught myself saying, “I don’t really like that game… but I love playing it online.” Which, as strange as it sounds, I actually find to be true quite often.
So that’s exactly what this list is. These are my current 10 favorite games to play on BGA. Some of them are games I already loved, some of them surprised me, and a few are games that I enjoy far more online than I ever would around a physical table.
1. Great Western Trail
This is one of my favorite games of all time. It has appeared on my annual Best Of lists for years, and I do not expect it to disappear anytime soon. What’s interesting, however, is that unlike many of the other games on this list, this is one I actually play very often online but rarely offline. A big part of that is thanks to the excellent Board Game Arena implementation. This is a case of the game being a bit of a pain to teach, and it’s quite fiddly on the table and can be quite long. BBG kind of fixes all that for you.
It’s difficult to point to any specific mechanic in Great Western Trail that keeps pulling me back; There is a hand management element, resource management, and traditional victory point salad. Other than the way you move being a bit unique in the game, there is nothing particularly standout about the mechanics. I think it’s more of a general strategic options thing, everything put together at once. The sheer volume of strategic possibilities GW offers demands a lot of exploration; it goes quite deep. Even after 118 plays, I’m still discovering new ways to win and combo, but more often than I would like, new ways to lose.
A big part of your success in Great Western Trail is timing, landing on the right building at the right time, and doing that consistently is the puzzle and it’s not easy to unravel.
My history with the game is a little unusual. My original review was far from glowing. It took several more plays after this review before I really understood what the game was trying to do, and even longer before I truly appreciated just how brilliant it is. It is part of a very small number of games on this site that I have ever gone back on and re-reviewed.
At its core, this is a tight resource management game that rewards careful planning, efficient turns, and long-term strategic thinking. Success often comes from anticipating your opponents’ plans and finding ways to exploit the opportunities they create, an aspect of the game I adore.
My endorsement here is of the highest order!
2. White Castle
This was a relatively recent discovery for me, but wow, does this game deliver.
At its heart, White Castle is a tight worker-placement and resource-management victory-point salad game, a classic Euro formula. What makes it stand out is its shared dice pool. Players aren’t just competing for action spaces; they’re competing for the dice that power those actions as well, creating a sort of duality to the worker placement formula.
The result is a surprisingly interactive experience. Every turn feels like you’re making a multifaceted decision with significant impact both on your own position and denying opportunities to your opponents but on multiple fronts. It’s one of the more confrontational worker placement games I’ve played that doesn’t rely on cheap direct attacks or “take that” mechanics, like, for example, Lords of Waterdeep.
I love Lords of Waterdeep, but it can be a pretty mean-spirited game; getting slapped with a mandatory quest has a way of unraveling what is otherwise a pretty cordial and competitive worker placement game. I just don’t think it needed this mechanic.
What really sold me, though, is just how tight the design is. Every resource, every action, every position is part of a grand strategic design, and there is absolutetly no room for error. You literally will take 9 actions in the entire game. The game rewards careful planning, clever sequencing, and the ability to squeeze every last drop of value out of your turn. It’s the kind of game where you finish a session and immediately start thinking about what you should have done differently.
This game is challenging on several levels. The learning curve, getting your head around the strategy, unlearning all the stuff you thought was true, and then re-learning the game for real. It’s a brain buster, but absolutetly worth the effort.
In fact, this was one of the very few games I discovered on Board Game Arena that led directly to me buying a physical copy. That’s about as strong an endorsement as I can give.
If you enjoy deep, challenging worker placement games that reward smart play and punish sloppy decisions, White Castle is an absolute winner.
I should talk a bit about the expansion because this is also available on BGA. White Castle: Matcha introduces a 4th dice type and some new actions and cards that take this already pretty deep game and tight game and open it up a bit. It definitely complicates, and while I like I would not recommend it unless you’re playing this game on repeat and need something fresh. In that way, it’s a perfect expansion, as it does exactly what expansions should do: refresh a game you already like.
I’m generally very wary of expansions to games I already think are quite perfect, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. In this case, however, as this game can feel pretty short with only 9 actions per player, it pushes that a bit as players get 4 actions instead of 3 per round. It remains a tight game with 12 actions in the game, but if you want more White Castle, this is the way to do. It does what it should as an expansion.
3. Shogun
Let me start with a confession.
I think Shogun is better in person, making this an exception to the general rule of this list.
In fact, if given the choice, I would almost always rather play it at a real table. The reason is simple: the dice tower.
That ridiculous contraption is one of the greatest gimmicks ever put into a board game. Every battle becomes an event. Players gather around it, cheer for impossible outcomes, groan at disasters, and generally make far more noise than any sensible adult should. It is glorious.
So yes, something is inevitably lost when you move Shogun online.
And yet, the Board Game Arena implementation is excellent.
The reason it still works so well is that beneath the spectacle, Shogun is also a fantastic strategy game. It remains one of my all-time favorites and one of the oldest titles in my collection.
So far as “Dudes On A Map” games go, this is one of my favorites. With a few exceptions, simply moving armies around and fighting is not enough for me, a war game has to have some strategic juice coming from somewhere else. In Shogun’s case, that is the action planning system, and in my humble opinion, it’s perfect.
At first glance, it looks like a straightforward dudes on a map conflict. Armies move around Japan, provinces are conquered, and players fight for territory. Simple enough, but the game is much more than that.
The twist is that, hidden beneath all that military posturing, is a surprisingly tight victory-point driven game. Scoring opportunities are limited, which means every point matters. Taking territory is important, but taking the right territory at the right moment is what actually wins games because, as the game progresses, players build point-scoring buildings in territories, dramatically increasing their value.
Then there is the action planning system. Every round, players secretly assign a whole series of actions in advance, often with incomplete information and only a rough idea of what everyone else is about to do. It is a brilliant mechanic that turns every turn into a mixture of strategy, prediction, and outright gambling, culminating in beautiful chaos.
You can devise a master plan worthy of a legendary daimyo. Or you can watch that plan collapse spectacularly because your opponent did something unexpected. Or because the dice tower decided it was feeling particularly mischievous that day. Probably both.
The combination of area control, hidden planning, resource management, and unpredictable battles creates a game that is constantly generating memorable stories. It is strategic enough to reward careful planning, chaotic enough to keep players humble, and interactive enough that nobody ever feels like they are playing a multiplayer solitaire game.
Shogun is one of those rare games that has stood the test of time for a reason. If you have never played it, you should. If you enjoy area control games, you should probably own it.
And if your gaming shelf currently contains Risk because you wanted a conquest, dudes on a map game, I would argue that Shogun is superior in every measurable way and solves that need far more elegantly.
4. Knarr
Knarr is one of those games that seemed to slip past a lot of people when it was released, myself included. It’s a shame because it’s a bonefied hidden gem and smash hit as far as I’m concerned.
Mechanically, it’s a straightforward tableau-based, card-driven engine builder wrapped up in a race for victory points. On paper, there isn’t a lot going on here, mechanically it’s simple and streamlined. In practice, however, the game offers far more strategic depth than its light rules would suggest.
One of the things I love most about Knarr is that it’s sort of a risk vs. reward style game when it comes to your strategy. Your options are to go for the slow burn and explosive end, hoping you will get to execute that final big turn for the win, or you race to finish to outpace people building proper engines, creating pressure on everyone. Once you commit to a path, you are largely along for the ride. The game is simply too short to completely change direction halfway through, so success often comes down to reading the table, spotting opportunities, and trusting your instincts in the early game.
Knarr is a fast-moving game, but whatever your strategy is in any given game, one thing that makes or breaks you is getting the right combination of trade routes and being able to execute them regularly. This requires a lot of planning and a bit of luck.
There is certainly a bit of luck involved. You can’t control what cards will appear, and part of the challenge is figuring out how to make the best use of whatever opportunities are currently available. The best players are not necessarily the ones with the perfect plan, but the ones who can adapt when the cards refuse to cooperate. Reading people’s options is also fairly important here.
Perhaps the biggest compliment I can give Knarr is that one game is rarely enough. Whenever my regular online group plays a round, it’s rare that someone doesn’t immediately demand a rematch. It’s addictive, occasionally frustrating, and consistently entertaining. This is a game that will keep your gaming group up late every time. I’ve had many painful mornings because of this one.
Knarr went straight from Board Game Arena to my shopping cart. It’s easy to learn, easy to teach, accessible enough for newer players, and still offers plenty of depth for experienced gamers. The expansion adds a lot to the game; if you get a chance to grab it, it’s a no-brainer.
An outstanding game and one that deserves far more attention than it’s gotten since its release.
5. Middle Ages
I should probably begin this entry with a disclaimer. I have only played Middle Ages three four times.
As a result, its appearance on this list may be a little premature. There is every possibility that six months from now I will discover some fatal flaw and wonder what I was thinking.
That said, based on what I have seen so far, I really like it.
What immediately stands out is how unique the game feels; it’s not a mechanic I have seen before. There are plenty of games that ask players to plan ahead, but Middle Ages builds its entire identity around that concept.
The core mechanic is a bit odd, but ultimately fairly simple. Each round, you choose the action you will perform next round while simultaneously resolving the action you selected during the previous round. The action you choose next round will determine the turn order and will determine which building you put into play, how you score, and what special action you can take. You can see what buildings will be available 4 rounds in advance. The trick to the entire game is knowing how to navigate a clean path that yields the most victory points through building combinations by predicting what your opponents are going to do and what will be available on your turn. Do that well consistently and you are going to wint his game.
If that explanation sounds confusing, it’s because it is, and this game will seem very complex the first time you play it. It’s really not; that impression fades quickly.
One of the tricky parts about Middle Ages is that it will punish you severely for not having a building of each type (each missing building is -10 points), so whatever your strategy is, it has to include completing your medieval town, else you’re kind of screwed.
In fact, learning and teaching the game is probably harder than actually playing it. I remember being thoroughly confused the first time I sat down with it. Thankfully, once you get over that first game hump, everything clicks surprisingly quickly. Beneath the awkward explanation lies a remarkably straightforward game.
The real magic comes from the timing.
Many of the actions are surprisingly confrontational, creating plenty of opportunities to disrupt plans, steal opportunities, and generally make life difficult for everyone else at the table. It creates a wonderfully dynamic experience where long-term planning is important, but short-term flexibility is equally valuable.
Of course, if everyone else is trying to do the same thing, things can get delightfully messy. Which is where much of the fun comes from.
Four games is hardly enough time to form a definitive opinion, but Middle Ages has already made a strong impression on me. It is clever, interactive, surprisingly tense, and refreshingly different from many of the other games currently making the rounds.
Ask me again after ten more plays…but yeah, for now, I think it’s good.
6. The Castles of Burgundy
This is another game that firmly belongs in my “great on Board Game Arena, probably not for my collection” category.
The Castles of Burgundy hardly needs an introduction. For more than a decade, board gamers have been singing its praises from every rooftop available. It remains one of the hobby’s most celebrated Eurogames and continues to sit comfortably among the highest-ranked games of all time on BoardGameGeek.
To be fair, I completely understand why.
In Castles of Burgundy, it’s not just about building that perfect hex board, but doing it in a timely fashion. When you do stuff often matters a lot more than what you do.
The game is incredibly clever. Every turn presents you with a simple challenge: here are your dice, now figure out something smart to do with them. It sounds straightforward, but the sheer number of options available creates a deeply satisfying puzzle, and a puzzle is exactly what this game is.
Unlike certain other famous dice games (fuck you Catan!) that I could happily launch into the sun, The Castles of Burgundy never feels like it is actively trying to ruin your day. Yes, the dice can be frustrating. They will occasionally betray you. They will occasionally mock you. But the game gives you plenty of tools to manipulate results, mitigate bad luck, and salvage a plan that has gone horribly wrong.
I’m not saying that Catan is a bad game; its popularity is clearly established. I’m just saying, “please trade with me so I can win” is a stupid concept, as is any game where you roll dice to get resources. Combined, I find the game annoying to play.
Success comes from finding opportunities, building combinations, and squeezing as much value as possible from every action. Like any great point salad game, there are dozens of paths to victory and just as many opportunities to accidentally wander off a cliff.
What I find particularly amusing is that, despite genuinely enjoying the game, I have yet to finish anywhere other than last place.
Normally, that would be a warning sign. Instead, I find myself wanting to play more.
Every loss feels less like a defeat and more like a challenge. Somewhere inside this elegant machine is a strategy that works. Other players seem capable of finding it with alarming consistency. One day, I intend to join them.
Until then, while I’m late to the party, The Castles of Burgundy remains a great BGA discovery. I’m not sure I will ever own a copy, but I can fully understand why people love this game.
It vexes me.
And I shall prevail.
7. Beyond The Sun
Beyond The Sun is another game on this list that falls firmly into the “I keep playing it because I find it fascinating” category, but I doubt I would ever buy it.
Whether I actually love it or not remains an open question.
What I can say with confidence is that it is… interesting in an academic, connoisseur of board games kind of way.
The best way I can describe Beyond The Sun is that it feels like two only vaguely related games somehow got stitched together and, against all odds, the result actually works.
On one side of the board, players compete over a sprawling technology tree through a worker placement system. Researching new technologies unlocks powerful abilities, creating entirely new worker placement spaces that only the player who discovered them can use. Much of your overall strategy is shaped by how you navigate this constantly evolving network of technologies.
On the other side of the board, there is a surprisingly aggressive little space conquest game taking place. Fleets move around the galaxy, players compete for influence, and planets are eventually colonized for valuable rewards and endgame objectives.
What makes it all work is that both halves of the game share the same economy. The actions you take on the technology board fuel your expansion efforts in space, while success in space provides resources and opportunities that feed back into your technological development.
This game looks super fiddly to me, I suspect that playing it on BGA is probobly takes considerably less time to play, which is the case with most games, but the fiddlier it is, the more valuable a BGA implementation becomes.
The whole experience feels like an enormous efficiency puzzle.
There is player interaction. In fact, the space board can become downright hostile at times. Yet somehow, despite ships moving around and players competing for territory, most of your attention remains focused on optimizing your own engine and finding the most efficient sequence of actions possible.
That contrast is part of what makes the game so interesting. It feels interactive without being overly confrontational. Competitive without being particularly emotional.
And fascinating throughout.
The funny thing is that I am still not entirely sure whether I would call Beyond The Sun “fun.” I know that sounds absurd, given the amount of time I have spent playing it, but there is a difference between enjoying something and being intellectually captivated by it.
Beyond The Sun falls into that second category for me.
Every game leaves me wanting to explore a different technology path, try a different strategy, or see how another combination of systems might unfold. It is the kind of design that keeps provoking questions long after the game is over.
That curiosity alone has earned it a place on this list. I don’t know if I would recommend it as a purchase, but on BGA you should definitely try it, especially if you have an academic curiosity about board game design.
8. Aquatica
Aquatica occupies a similar space on this list as Beyond The Sun, an academic curiosity more than a fun game.
I am not entirely convinced that I love it. I am not even completely convinced that I would describe it as fun or even a good game.
And yet, I keep playing it.
That probably sounds like a terrible endorsement, but hear me out.
Again, as a self-proclaimed connoisseur of board game design, I find Aquatica fascinating. There is something about its unusual approach to engine building that continues to pull me back in. I have logged over a dozen games so far, and I am still trying to fully wrap my head around what makes it tick.
At its core, Aquatica is a tableau-building card game where players are constantly trying to create temporary engines from whatever cards happen to be available at the time. The experience feels less like constructing a finely tuned machine and more like creating temporary boosts that you hope will have a domino effect.
This is a very pretty game; the artwork is fantastic. It may ultimately become the reason I want a real copy.
I think that is the unique spark here that your tableau, the cards you buy, is a temporary resource in your engine. Unlike many engine builders, where you gradually assemble a powerful machine that produces increasing returns throughout the game, Aquatica lets you use a resource once, and then you kind of have to start over. Your engine is constantly changing shape, firing off effects, collapsing, and being rebuilt into something entirely different.
The result is a game that feels surprisingly dynamic. Every turn becomes a puzzle involving the cards in your hand, the cards available for purchase, and the opportunities hidden within your tableau. Plans rarely survive intact for very long, and adaptation is often more important than execution. Other players can also alter the board state in front of you, which creates another uncontrolled layer to the puzzle.
It is a strange design that sort of skirts expectations.
One thing I have heard repeatedly, although I cannot personally verify it, is that Aquatica can be somewhat fiddly when played physically. If true, it is exactly the sort of game that benefits enormously from Board Game Arena handling all the bookkeeping behind the scenes. Though I have to say this is not the best interface on BGA, it can be a bit fiddly here as well.
Whether Aquatica ultimately becomes a favorite of mine remains to be seen. What I can say is that very few games have managed to keep me this curious after so many plays.
That alone makes it worth trying.
Give it a shot. It might not capture your imagination the way it has captured mine, but if it does, do not be surprised if you find yourself queueing up “just one more game” while trying to figure out what on earth makes it so compelling.
9. Harmonies
Harmonies is a perfect example of a game I would never buy, but am more than happy to play on Board Game Arena.
That is not a criticism of the game. Quite the opposite, actually. Harmonies is an excellent design. The reality is simply that it lives well outside my usual gaming preferences. An abstract puzzle game about building habitats for animals is not exactly the sort of thing that normally finds its way onto my shelf.
More importantly, I know my gaming group.
If I brought Harmonies to game night, everyone would give it a fair shot. We would play a game, nod appreciatively, make a few comments about how clever it is, and then immediately return to conquering empires, managing medieval economies, or fighting over cubes. The game would quietly disappear into the collection and never see daylight again.
Board Game Arena changes that completely.
Online, Harmonies becomes the perfect middle-weight filler game. It is quick, engaging, easy to set up, and delivers just the right amount of brain burn without demanding an entire evening. It is the kind of game I am always happy to squeeze in between heavier titles.
If it looks puzzly, believe it, it is very puzzly; it should come with a warning label, because this game will melt your brain.
The gameplay itself is wonderfully clever. Players build habitats using colorful terrain pieces while drafting animal cards that reward specific patterns and arrangements. Every turn feels like a small puzzle, with multiple competing priorities fighting for space on your board. There are animal objectives to complete, bonus scoring opportunities to chase, and just enough point salad sprinkled throughout to keep you second-guessing every placement.
It is thoughtful, satisfying, occasionally frustrating, and surprisingly addictive. The kind of game that makes your brain hurt just enough to remind you that you are having fun.
I may never own Harmonies, but I am always happy to see it hit the virtual table.
10. Lost Ruins of Arnak
I feel obligated to include Lost Ruins of Arnak on this list. I am doing so under protest.
Let’s get this out of the way immediately: it is a good game. In fact, it is probably a very good game. The design is clever, the decisions are meaningful, and there is clearly a tremendous amount of depth hiding beneath its relatively approachable exterior.
The problem is that Lost Ruins of Arnak and I are currently involved in a bitter personal feud. After eighteen plays, I have yet to win a game.
Not only have I failed to win, but I have rarely come close. At this point, I am less an explorer searching for ancient ruins and more an archaeologist excavating the remains of my own shattered confidence.
I’ve heard the claim that this game is like Dune Imperium, and while I can see why people might say that, it’s not nearly as streamlined, and this has a far bigger learning curve.
What makes this particularly frustrating is that the game does not appear especially complicated or novel.
Mechanically, Arnak is built from familiar ingredients. There is deck building. There is worker placement. There are tracks to move up. There is resource management. None of these concepts are new, and individually they are all things I understand perfectly well.
Yet somehow, when combined together, they form a mysterious puzzle box that my brain simply refuses to open.
I watch other players effortlessly chain actions together, convert resources into other resources, advance research tracks, discover sites, recruit assistants, and somehow continue taking turns long after I have passed and started questioning my life choices.
Most of the time I don’t even understand how I lost. I simply know that at the end of the game everyone else has more points than I do.
Repeatedly.
To be fair, I completely understand why Arnak has such a devoted following. It is one of the most celebrated games of the last several years, and an incredibly polished design. Every mechanism feels carefully crafted and intentionally connected to the others. It is easy to see why so many people consider it a modern classic.
I just happen to be standing outside the secret clubhouse, pressing my face against the window and wondering what everyone else is so excited about.
Eventually, I will return. I will once again venture into the jungle. I will once again attempt to decipher its mysteries.
And perhaps one day I will finally discover the ancient secret that allows a player to score points.
Until then, Lost Ruins of Arnak sits at the bottom of this list as punishment for being naughty and refusing to let me win.
When Dewan first landed on my table, my eyes didn’t go to the rulebook, the components, or even the promise of gameplay. They went straight to that absolutely mesmerizing cover art by Arthus Pilorget. It’s surreal, vibrant, and just the right kind of strange, like a dream you can’t quite explain but don’t want to wake up from. There’s an immediate sense of identity here, a bold, artistic swagger that practically demands your attention. And yeah… I love it.
Beneath that dazzling, slightly offbeat exterior lies something far more restrained: a deeply abstract puzzle game. There’s nothing wrong with that, far from it, but when the art sets the stage this dramatically, part of you can’t help but expect something equally theatrical underneath. Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe that’s just the spell the artwork casts. Either way, I always like to capture my raw, first impression, the unfiltered “wow” before the mechanics settle in. So yes, let the record show: very cool art.
Anyway, enough gawking, consider me thoroughly impressed, and let’s dive in.
I feel compelled to put this piece on my blog; it really defines the term, artwork! Anyone who says that A.I. will replace artists is kidding themselves, a machine can copy it, but nothing like this will ever originate from a machine, no matter how much we invest in them.
Dewan sits comfortably in that delicious design space of deceptively simple mechanics wrapped around a surprisingly deep strategic core. At first glance, it feels approachable, almost gentle… but give it a few plays, and suddenly you’re in deep waters, wrestling with decisions that feel sharper, tighter, and far more consequential than expected. It’s a slow burn in the best way, subtle at first, then steadily revealing layers of tension, bite, and competitive edge. And make no mistake, this game can get spicy once players find their footing. It’s a lot more confrontational than it appears or the rules suggest; there is strong, in-your-face interaction here.
What really elevates Dewan, though, is its ever-shifting landscape. The game is map-based, and crucially, you build that map yourself at the start of each session. The result is that no two games feel remotely alike. Forget rehearsed openings or safe, go-to strategies; this is a game that thrives on adaptability. You’ll need to think on your feet, pivot constantly, and embrace the chaos of a board that refuses to play by familiar rules. I really liked that a great deal; it speaks to replayability and longevity, so we are off to a great start.
I find it interesting how wildly different I saw this map during the first 3 plays of this game and how I see it now. The learning curve is not steep, but there is understanding and meaningful knowledge, a transition that takes a few plays to appear.
I also struggled to pin down a clean comparison, and that’s a fantastic thing. In a hobby full of echoes and iterations, Dewan feels refreshingly, confidently unique.
So right out of the gate, we have a strong opening and a lot of great potential. The question is, does Dewan deliver on the promise? Let’s find out!
Overview
Final Score: (4.05 out 5) Outstanding Game!
If you really want to get a grip on Dewan, the cleanest way to unpack it is to think in three interlocking layers: the razor-thin scoring system, the slick card-driven action engine, and the ever-present, quietly cutthroat area control on the map. The game demands that a player be efficient, which, coincidentally, is how I would describe the way the game was designed.
Let’s start with the path to victory, because this one is tight. Points are scarce, precious, and just a little bit elusive. You’re not racking up big numbers here; instead, most of your scoring trickles in through the completion of story cards (think elegant little objective puzzles). These ask you to control specific terrain types, mountains, forests, and deserts, and convert that control into a sort of resource checkbox. There are a few bonus avenues for points, plus a shared scenario card that sweetens the pot for everyone, but the real magic lies in efficiency, not overwhelming acquisition.
The trick is to chain your story cards together so they overlap in clever, satisfying ways, squeezing maximum value out of minimal effort on the board. It’s less about doing more and more about doing just enough, brilliantly. If that sounds like a hobbit riddle, well, the game kind of is that.
The Story cards tell you what resources you must collect, but you unlock these as you go, and there is no telling what cards will be available when it’s your turn to pick one. This might be the only time a bit of luck can help you. Finding a way to make use of the same resource in more than one story is key to a successful run.
Actions are governed by the card system, the pulsing, strategic heartbeat of the game. Each round, you’re faced with an illusively tense choice: play cards to move across the board and establish settlements (your claim to territory), or pause to draft new cards from a constantly shifting market. It’s simple on paper, but in practice every decision feels like a tiny, meaningful gamble. Efficiency, again, is everything. Waste a move, and you’ll feel it, and while you may have a plan, opportunities difficult to pass up come up all the time, and knowing when to take them and when to pass is kind of the key to the game.
At the start of the game, the board feels wide open, brimming with possibility. Resources seem plentiful, and on the dynamically built map, opportunities are abundant. You might even think, “Hey, this isn’t so hard.” The game will correct that perception rather quickly.
Because Dewan hides a beautifully designed rule at its core: connected territories of the same type only count as one terrain type. I would imagine when the designer came up with that, the rest of the game laid out for him like a solved puzzle.
You might think that having 5 deserts so close together is a lucky break; it will make checkboxing deserts quick and easy, but the reality is that you are looking at one big desert, which is catastrophically bad. It not only forces you across it, meaning you need to collect desert cards to move through them, but settling more than one of these deserts is useless.
Those four cozy mountain tiles clustered near your starting position look like a goldmine… but mechanically, they’re just a single, lonely mountain. Suddenly, the board shifts from inviting to demanding. That one rule, simple, elegant, slightly cruel, completely reshapes how you approach the game. You can’t just carve out a neat little slice of the map and call it a day. You’ll need to spread out, stretch your reach, and compete across the entire board, and you can be certain your opponents will be doing the same.
And here’s the kicker: moving across that board costs cards. Every step, every expansion, every ambitious grab for territory eats into your limited hand. So once again, the game whispers its central mantra, do more with less. The game could have been called “Optimization,” and that would have been on point.
There’s a lot more bubbling beneath the surface, layers of nuance, timing, and tactical brinkmanship, but even at a high level, you can feel it: Dewan is one of those games where the rules are deceptively simple, but the decisions are gloriously, brain-meltingly complex.
And that’s fascinating. Genuinely.
But also very abstract, and if I’m being honest, just a little outside my personal taste. I can absolutely appreciate what it’s doing; there’s a deep, rewarding well here for players who want to dive in, explore, and master its many subtleties. This is a game that could easily sustain dozens, maybe hundreds, of plays for the right audience. It’s well designed, well balanced, everything you could want as a general board game fan, but general is not my sweet spot.
Three times during the game, you will be allowed to slip a card under your board, which gives you both the terrain and resource on that card. This requires good timing and preparation, but is quite important for scoring purposes.
For me, Dewan lands squarely in that familiar category of: “This is excellent… just not entirely my thing,” which simply means I’m happy to play it, but it won’t necessarily find its way into my permanent collection.
It’s not so much a judgment as it is a preference, but I will say that games like Dewan sometimes win me over, over time. I’m not in a rush to cull it. I recognize that while I have my preferences, sometimes these sorts of puzzly games win me over, and Dewan certainly has the potential to do just that.
Components
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Outstanding quality through and through, the art is just a cherry on top!
Cons: I would have liked to see a rules reference for this one.
The component quality, judged across my three core pillars: physical durability, artistic execution, and clarity, puts Dewan on a clear path toward a perfect score.
Frankly, there’s very little to criticize here. The components are crafted from thick, resilient stock that feels built for countless plays. Visually, the game leans fully into its charming, whimsical art style, maintaining a cohesive and inviting aesthetic across every piece. The iconography does present a slight learning curve at first, but once it clicks, it reveals itself to be clean, intuitive, and thoughtfully placed; everything communicates exactly what it needs to, exactly where you expect it. And the box insert is exceptionally well-designed, snug, practical, and oddly satisfying in its precision.
The rulebook, however, is where things get a bit more nuanced. My initial instinct was to criticize it. It adopts a “teach-as-you-play” approach rather than functioning as a structured reference guide. While this makes onboarding smooth and approachable, it becomes less convenient when you need to answer a specific question mid-game. Instead of quickly locating a rule, you may find yourself digging through the flow of the gameplay explanation to uncover it.
The vivid and colorful art make this game a pleasure to look at, but I have to say it again, art this good belongs on something less abstract; this artist should be working on RPG’s!
This is a hill I will happily die on: every game should include a dedicated rules reference for quick lookups, especially for edge cases and commonly misunderstood elements.
In Dewan, those questions will most often revolve around iconography and scenario cards, which can feel slightly opaque during your first few plays. That said, this is far from a dealbreaker. The game itself is elegantly simple, and once those early uncertainties are resolved, you’re unlikely to revisit the rulebook at all. The rules are streamlined, logical, and easy to internalize.
Overall, this is a beautifully produced, impressively polished game, one that doesn’t just meet modern board game production standards but confidently exceeds them.
Theme
Score: Tilt:
Pros: If we were judging the theme on art alone, this would be 5 stars!
Cons: The theme is mostly irrelevant to the game, but as an abstract game, it doesn’t really need a theme.
The theme isn’t exactly the beating heart of Dewan, in fact, it barely registers as a pulse. Outside of its enchanting, fairy tale-inspired art style, there’s very little here to anchor the experience in a meaningful narrative, leaving me with surprisingly little to dig into.
Beyond a scattering of light flavor text in the rulebook, the game offers only the faintest hint of context. You’re… expanding a village, exploring, for reasons that remain charmingly vague and conveniently unexplained. It all feels more like a decorative backdrop than a driving force, pleasant to look at, but ultimately insubstantial. It’s an abstract game, plain and simple.
What this game lacks in theme, it makes up for in great gameplay and, more importantly, amazing style. The vivid use of light here is amazing!
I’m not even sure what else can be said. This is precisely where my tilting system earns its keep. While Dewan’s theme is undeniably thin, almost ethereal in its absence, it also doesn’t detract from the experience in any meaningful way. The game isn’t trying to tell a story, and it doesn’t need to.
So yes, the theme may be wispy, but crucially, it’s also harmless, an aesthetic flourish rather than a foundational pillar in an otherwise abstract puzzle game beautifully executed.
Gameplay
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Fantastic design, I foresee this game winning some awards.
Cons: Can be quite unforgiving, takes a few plays before it clicks.
While the theme in Dewan barely leaves an impression, the gameplay is the undeniable centerpiece, the beating heart and razor-sharp mind of the experience.
For a game with such elegantly simple rules, Dewan hides a remarkable amount of depth beneath its surface. It’s one of those deceptively “light” designs that quickly reveals a dense, cerebral core the moment you start making meaningful decisions.
If I had to distill what makes Dewan stand out, it’s that it belongs to a lineage of games rooted in mathematical integrity. This is a design built on balance, probability, and precision rather than flashy mechanics or familiar systems. It feels engineered in the best possible way, echoing the philosophies of designers like Reiner Knizia, Vlaada Chvátil, and Alexander Pfister. In that sense, Johannes Goupy and Yoann Levet have crafted something that feels refreshingly deliberate and structurally sound, without the usual copy/pasting that makes it easily definable as “just like X game”.
Where many modern games lean on familiar frameworks, worker placement, deck building, and action selection, Dewan confidently carves its own path. It doesn’t rely on genre shorthand. Instead, it builds tension and decision-making from first principles, and the result is something that feels both fresh and intellectually satisfying.
From the very start, variability defines the experience. Randomized terrain, shifting board layouts, and scenario (or “story”) cards ensure that no two games unfold the same way. Yet impressively, this randomness never undermines balance. The scenario cards feel meticulously tuned, difficult to achieve regardless of your starting position. You won’t luck into an easy 8-point score just because the board happened to favor you. That level of consistency in a dynamic setup is no small feat; it’s careful, disciplined design. Anyone who has ever tried to design a game knows just how painful balancing dynamic mechanics can be. It’s clear this game went through rigorous testing to achieve this result.
The pacing is another standout strength. Every village placed tightens the board, increasing both spatial pressure and urgency. The game subtly transforms into a race, not just to score efficiently, but to act before opportunities disappear. You want to craft perfect, optimized turns… but the game rarely affords you that luxury.
This is a pretty fast-paced game, you’re going to take maybe 12-15 actions before the game ends, and you know you’re doing well if you are the one putting the pressure on other players to keep up. There is definitely a race here; faster is in fact, better. The result is that in a typical game night, you are probably going to play this more than once.
This creates a fun and sometimes frustrating tension. Dewan is a puzzle under pressure, a game where careful planning collides with the constant need to adapt and race to the finish. Mistakes are not easily forgiven; there just aren’t enough turns for you to course correct a mistake.
Player interaction is also more pronounced than it first appears. This isn’t a solitary optimization exercise; it’s a shared, contested space. You need to track opponents closely, anticipating their moves, disrupting their plans, and adjusting your own strategy accordingly. Blocking becomes just as important as building, and though this skill takes time to develop, it is more often than not the key to a tight victory.
One particularly elegant design choice is the terrain drafting system. When selecting terrain cards, you must take two adjacent cards rather than freely choosing any combination. It’s a small rule with enormous implications. Even when the exact pieces you need are visible, they’re often just out of reach. This forces compromise, sacrifice, and creative problem-solving, adding another layer of often painful decisions to the puzzle.
Drafting cards in Dewan is really very key. I’m not even exaggerating that one bad decision, especially when playing with experienced players, can make the difference between winning and losing. It’s very unforgiving, which I actually liked quite a bit.
And that’s really the magic of Dewan. With only two types of actions per turn available, the game manages to feel surprisingly weighty, filled with difficult choices. Every choice ripples outward, interacting with the board state, your objectives, and your opponents’ plans. It’s tight, demanding, and deeply engaging.
That said, this style of design comes with its trade-offs. There’s no real catch-up mechanism. Strong, optimized play is rewarded, and mistakes can be costly. In fact, the game is so tight that even a single bad call can and often will cost you the game. It is a puzzle game that demands perfection. In many games, you may find yourself identifying the likely winner well before the final turn. Fortunately, Dewan keeps things brisk, typically wrapping up in 30–45 minutes, so even a losing position never overstays its welcome. You won’t have to wallow in your defeat for long.
At its core, the gameplay loop is beautifully simple: control space, match terrain to objectives, and position your camps to maximize scoring opportunities. But the path to doing so is filled with clever constraints and constantly shifting decisions that keep every turn engaging.
Dewan succeeds because it embraces one of the purest goals of game design: when you lose, you know exactly why, and you immediately want to try again with a better plan.
That’s not just good design. That’s great design.
Replay-ability and Longevity
Score: Tilt:
Pros: Dynamic starting setup and unique scenarios make this game very replayable. Works with all player counts equally well.
Cons: Playing with new players can be a little unfair; it’s not that much fun until it clicks for everyone.
The first couple of plays of Dewan, I have to be honest, felt a little… samey. Not bad, not boring, just oddly flat. The competitive edge hadn’t quite surfaced yet, and I struggled to see where the long-term excitement or replayability was supposed to come from. It all felt a bit too neat, a bit too contained, like a clever puzzle that might not have much more to say after a few rounds.
And then, somewhere around the third or fourth play, it clicked for me and I’m glad I stuck around to see it.
That’s when it hit me: everything I thought I had learned was not nearly as useful as I expected. The game’s dynamic, randomized setup completely reshuffles the puzzle every single time. What worked before doesn’t necessarily work again. There’s no “perfect opening,” no reliable flowchart to follow, no cozy strategy to fall back on. Dewan quietly pulls the rug out from under you and says, “Figure it out… again.”
And that’s where it comes alive.
Each session feels like a brand-new puzzle with familiar rules but a wildly different personality. The structure stays consistent, but the execution constantly shifts. The game is constantly demanding adaptation. It’s like solving a new riddle using the same language, recognizable, yet endlessly surprising.
Now, sitting here after about a dozen plays, I feel pretty confident saying this: the replayability here is, for all practical purposes, limitless. You might eventually step away from it, but it won’t be because you’ve “solved” it or fallen into repetitive patterns. This game doesn’t let you do that.
You’re not going to score a lot of points in this game, and most end-of-game scoring is going to be very tight. Every point matters in this game; you have to squeeze it for everything you can get out of it, there is no room for sub-optimal play.
If you have a soft spot for light, puzzly Euro games, the kind that reward clever thinking, efficient play, and a willingness to adapt on the fly, then Dewan is going to feel right at home on your table. It’s a sharp, thoughtful design with a wonderfully dynamic core, and that ever-changing setup does a ton of heavy lifting when it comes to keeping things fresh.
A great design, a tight balance, and endlessly shifting starting conditions, together, give Dewan a replayability that feels not just strong, but effortlessly alive.
Conclusion
I always find games like Dewan uniquely difficult to review, and not because they’re flawed, but because they’re so clearly, so quietly excellent. After decades of playing board games with near-obsessive enthusiasm, and more than ten years of dissecting and reviewing them, you develop an instinct for design, an ability to recognize when something is finely tuned, meticulously balanced, and thoughtfully constructed.
And make no mistake: Dewan is exactly that. It is subtly, almost deceptively, brilliant.
But the beauty of a conclusion is that the analysis is done. The score is set. The critical lens can finally be set aside, and I can just speak as a player.
And as a player, I can say Dewan is a game I deeply respect more than I personally love. It’s excellent, I’m just not its target audience.
It’s an elegantly engineered experience that will absolutely resonate with the right audience. For me, though, it sits just outside my usual preferences. That said, I have no doubt it will continue to hit the table. Its quality all but guarantees it, people will discover it, appreciate it, and want to play it again and again. And importantly, I never found it frustrating or grating in the way more abstract, puzzle-heavy games sometimes can be. It’s thoughtful without being exhausting, challenging without being punishing.
In the end, Dewan is a game I would confidently recommend to players who appreciate clever, finely crafted systems and enjoy abstract, brain-burning puzzles wrapped in a clean, distinctive design.
It may not be my perfect game, but it is, without question, a remarkably well-designed one that will make it someone’s top 10 list.