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Review: Epochs: Course of Cultures – 2025

Designer: Jeffrey CCH

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

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

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_star christmas_star(3.6 out 5 Stars)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Epoch understands this, it embraces it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s immensely satisfying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, despite all of this, it works.

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

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

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

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But civilization games are not most games.

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review: Kingdom Legacy – Feudal Kingdom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My issue with disposable legacy games is really twofold.

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

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

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

Alright, rant over.

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

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

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

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

With that in mind…

Let’s get into it.

Overview

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, your kingdom grows.

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

On the surface, the system is incredibly simple.

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

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

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

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

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

Simply put, this game is quite brilliant.

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

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

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

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

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

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

Great game, great time

Review: Fate – Defenders of Grimheim

If you read this blog with any regularity, you already know that my relationship with co-op games is… complicated. Hot and cold might be the best way to describe it. If I’m being honest, I’d estimate that about 70% of the co-op games I try land somewhere between “pretty abysmal” and “tolerable”.

For a typical group looking for a fun Friday night game, this one really sticks the landing. I think it’s a great family game.

But every now and then a co-op game comes along that, for reasons I can’t entirely explain, just clicks. When that happens, it tends to turn into a full-blown love affair.

A couple of prime examples are Spirit Island and my beloved Lord of the Rings: The Living Card Game. I don’t just like these games, I love them. I quite literally own everything ever printed for The Lord of the Rings card game, and when it comes to Spirit Island, I’m ready to play anytime, anywhere.

I try very hard not to be a hardliner; I don’t want to say “I hate cooperative games”, because I know there are always exceptions, so I’m always ready and willing to try anything. The truth is, however, I have very few co-op games in my collection, and I think that says a lot about where I usually stand with them. Lord of the Rings: The Living Card Game is such an exception. I absolutely adore this game.

Because of this somewhat turbulent relationship with the genre, I usually avoid reviewing co-op games. I like to keep things positive on this blog as much as possible. I simply don’t see myself as the ideal target audience, so why would I offer an opinion on one?

I made an exception for Fate: Defenders of Grimheim for one very important reason: the designer is none other than Jonathan Fryxelius.

If that name rings a bell, it should. Fryxelius is the mastermind behind Terraforming Mars, which I consider to be one of the best competitive board games ever made. It still sits comfortably at number 12 on my Best Games list, an impressive feat considering it was released back in 2016, which has given the entire gaming industry 10 years to come up with something better, and while there have been a couple I could argue for, it stands strong. It also took home the Gamersdungeon Award for Best Game of the Year.

Terraforming Mars is one of the best competitive board games ever made, in my humble opinion, but I also consider it an absolute masterpiece in game design.

Suffice it to say, I’m a fan of Jonathan’s work. While he has spent the past decade steadily pumping out Terraforming Mars expansions, most of them excellent, I’ve always been curious to see how versatile he is as a designer.

So what happens when the man behind Terraforming Mars, one of the best competitive games ever made, decides to tackle the co-operative genre?

Well… that’s exactly what we’re here to find out!

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star (3.95 out 5) Great Game!

The premise of Fate: Defenders of Grimheim is refreshingly simple. Players take on the roles of Viking-inspired fantasy heroes tasked with defending the town of Grimheim from an assortment of mythical monsters attacking from all sides.

The core game comes with four heroes, but there are two additional heroes (Sindra & Finkel) available in an expansion that is already out now.

At its heart, the game is an endurance battle. One, you technically have no hope of winning. But that’s fine, because victory doesn’t require you to defeat the invading hordes. You simply have to survive long enough for the timer to run out.

That timer comes in the form of a fixed number of turns, and most of the game revolves around plugging holes in your defenses and responding to threats before they get too close to town. It’s all about squeezing the most efficiency out of every action turn. Whenever the heroes fail to stop an enemy, one of Grimheim’s buildings is destroyed. Think of the town itself as a pool of hit points, and when those buildings are gone, so are you.

Fate can be quite brutal if you are not paying attention, this is not a simple dice chucker; there is a fair amount of strategy and tactics to this game. Failing to deal with the swarm of enemies coming at you can cause a collapse in short order.

Running parallel to this defensive struggle is the game’s progression system, which is arguably the real engine driving the experience. Your heroes begin the game relatively weak, armed with limited abilities and modest gear. As the game progresses, however, they gain new equipment and abilities that make them increasingly efficient at doing what heroes do best: killing monsters. That will sound like a relatively familiar game loop to most gamers, it quite literally describes every adventure game ever made.

It’s a simple but addictive concept built on one of the oldest traditions in gaming, a game loop that dates all the way back to the early days of Dungeons & Dragons: kill monsters, gain experience, level up, and become better at killing monsters.

Like Dungeons & Dragons, each hero (think class) comes with unique strengths and weaknesses. Success requires coordination, planning, and careful positioning between players to leverage the strengths of each hero. A little luck certainly helps, too.

The primary luck factor comes from the attack dice. Much like the classic D20, a good roll can turn a desperate situation into a heroic victory, while a bad roll can leave your carefully laid plans lying in the snow. That said, the game does offer enough tactical flexibility that clever play can often mitigate the whims of fate.

Luck does play its part in Fate. The dice are certainly a major component of that luck, but you also have the monster deck, which describes which monsters come out and where. This can create some wild board states, creating a wide range of interesting puzzles to solve.

In many ways, Fate feels a bit like a tower defense game. You’re constantly trying to eliminate monsters as efficiently as possible before they break through your defenses. The key difference is that you’re not trying to wipe out the invading force; you’re simply trying to outlast it.

Given the strategic depth of Jonathan’s Terraforming Mars, I’ll admit I expected something a bit heavier from him. I’m not entirely sure what I was hoping for, but the core gameplay loop here felt a little simpler than anticipated, I would say, kind of predictable.

That’s not to say the game is easy, it definitely isn’t. There are plenty of tactical decisions that will determine whether you win or lose. This isn’t a “roll some dice and hope for the best” kind of experience. There’s enough strategy here to chew on for a while.

The problem is that the puzzle begins to reveal itself fairly quickly, especially to seasoned gamers. After a few plays, veteran gamers will start to see the optimal approaches emerge.

After my first playthrough, I was quite satisfied. The game was fun, engaging, and held my attention. By the third or fourth session, however, the primary challenge began to feel less about solving the puzzle and more about managing the luck of the draw.

Because enemies enter play via card draws, sometimes the game simply overwhelms you. Other times, the threats line up in ways that allow careful planning to shine. In the long run, I suspect this is the kind of game where repeated plays will eventually leave players wanting new scenarios, new monsters, and new challenges to keep things fresh.

And in fairness, the design almost feels built for that. Fate seems perfectly positioned for expansions. If you enjoy the core gameplay loop, it’s easy to imagine eagerly awaiting additional content. There’s plenty of design space here for new enemies, new mechanics, and creative twists on the formula.

While the game does include ways to adjust the difficulty, I don’t think Fate has the near-infinite replayability of Terraforming Mars by contrast. That said, it’s certainly good for several enjoyable evenings at the table.

Which brings me to my general point and core issue I have with co-op games. They have a way of reaching the end of the fun. At some point, you solve the puzzle, and it feels kind of finished. That doesn’t diminish your experience of solving that puzzle, but I think the reason I prefer competitive games is that the puzzle is the other players strategy, which by its very nature is a new puzzle each time you play a game.

Cooperative games, even ones you play through just one time, can still make for an amazing experience; a game’s success is rarely tied to replayability, and I think in the case of Fate that is very true. It’s a fun game that you will experience and feel content that you got your money’s worth, very much as the case might be with something like Gloomhaven.

I suspect the game may have more staying power with a younger audience. Younger players tend to live in the experience of playing “a fun game” more than someone like me, who is dissecting the game. There’s quite a bit of fun to be squeezed out of this particular Viking cow if you simply enjoy pushing miniatures around, fighting monsters, rolling dice, and leveling up. It’s all quite satisfying from that perspective.

For me, however, the experience never quite reached the point where I was eagerly planning the next game night just to get Fate back on the table.

It’s a fun and interesting distraction, a perfectly solid take on cooperative gaming, and certainly a game I might pull out among some fresh-faced youngsters. But like many co-op games I’ve played, it ultimately landed in that familiar category of “that was fine, let’s move on.”

Better than many co-op games I have tried, certainly, but not really of the caliber that holds my interest long term.

But it also reinforced a conclusion I’ve reached many times before: cooperative games just might not be my thing. And even an excellent designer like Jonathan Fryxelius wasn’t quite enough to change my mind on that front.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Exceptional component quality, fantastic presentation, solid interface for enhancing the efficiency of play.

Cons: You could go bigger with a box full of miniatures, but I think they did that in the Kickstarter.

When it comes to components, Fate: Defenders of Grimheim delivers exactly what I expect from a $50–$60 board game, and then some. The production quality is excellent across the board.

The artwork deserves special mention. It’s crisp, colorful, and full of personality, immediately selling the theme the moment the game hits the table. That matters a lot in a game like this, especially if your target audience is a younger crowd. When you’re fighting mythical monsters as Viking heroes, the visuals need to carry some weight, and Fate absolutely does.

The game is gorgous laid out on the table, a visual feast that will attract attention.

Just as importantly, the components aren’t just attractive, they’re functional. A lot of thought clearly went into making sure the design supports the gameplay. Information is presented cleanly and logically, allowing players to understand what’s happening at a glance and make informed decisions without constantly reaching for the rulebook.

I’ve always believed that one of the hallmarks of great game design is when you can look at the board of a new game you have never played before, make an educated guess about what things do, and turn out to be right. When that happens, it means the interface is doing its job.

That’s very much the case here.

The main board itself looks like a terrain map straight out of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign. It’s not only visually appealing, but also communicates key information clearly. Enemy movement paths, terrain effects, and automated enemy behaviors are all easy to understand just by looking at the board.

The player boards, cards, and miniatures follow the same philosophy. They strike a near-perfect balance between aesthetics and usability. The cards in particular are excellent: the iconography is clear, the layout is intuitive, and it’s immediately obvious what each card does and how it fits into your strategy. At no point did anyone ask, “What does this card do?”

I barely mention the miniatures in the review, and that’s a bit criminal on my part, but they are nice, certainly something you could paint up. Packaged into pairs, they come in a nice protective case so that you can keep your cards and minis safe.

That clarity becomes especially valuable in a game like this, where the table can quickly fill up with heroes, monsters, tokens, and abilities. When a game has a lot of moving parts, clean design isn’t just nice, it’s essential.

The tokens and components themselves are also high quality, with sharp iconography and solid production values throughout.

Put simply, from a component standpoint, this is about as good as it gets. I genuinely tried to find something to nitpick here, if only to avoid sounding overly enthusiastic, but came up empty.

The truth is, the component execution is pretty much flawless.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: The fantasy Viking theme is a nice aesthetic choice, and I really like the comic book art style.

Cons: The theme here is kind of arbitrary; you could have put just about anything in here. I think it’s a missed opportunity to do something really original.

The theme in Fate: Defenders of Grimheim is fun, engaging, and well executed, but it’s also the kind of game where they could have swapped out the theme without fundamentally changing the experience.

You could just as easily imagine this system wrapped in a Star Wars, Star Trek, or Samurai epic, and it would function just as well. The underlying mechanics are fairly theme-agnostic, the core concept quite basic. Defend the base with your heroes.

And that’s not necessarily a criticism. It simply means the theme isn’t doing the heavy lifting in the design. In a way, I think it’s a missed opportunity to do something weird/cool/gonzo, aka original. Simply picking a theme and wrapping it around a mechanic is fine, but it kind of becomes less relevant to the game experience at the table.

I often get challenged on my comments about theme. What constitutes an original theme? It’s hard to point to it exactly, I just know it when I see it. Root is a great example. It’s a war game, they could have used Vikings, Samurai’s or whatever else, but creating original factions, wrapped up in there own seting with truly original art this is what an original theme looks like. It’s so good they ended up having to make an RPG out of it.

That said, the Viking setting chosen here works very well. I’ve always had a soft spot for Viking mythology, and Fate blends Norse flavor with fantasy elements in a way that feels natural and cohesive. The monsters, heroes, and abilities all fit together logically, and nothing ever feels out of place or forced.

If anything, the real star of the show here is the artwork. The visual style is consistent, atmospheric, and full of personality. It does a tremendous amount of work in selling the world and giving the game its identity.

Beyond that, there isn’t much more to say. The theme is well implemented and enjoyable, but it isn’t a defining pillar of the game’s design.

It’s a solid execution, just not a critical ingredient.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: The mechanics are a master class in game design, smooth as silk. 

Cons: Veteran gamers might find the game a bit too easy.

Gameplay, the real engine under the hood of Fate: Defenders of Grimheim, is where the game distinguishes itself. There’s some subtle but genuinely clever design at work here.

I’ll try not to get overly long-winded… though as a fan of the designer, I may fail spectacularly at that goal.

The first thing that stands out is how smooth the mechanics are. The flow of the game is remarkably efficient, keeping everyone at the table engaged almost constantly. In fact, the sequence of play is so clean that the game doesn’t even need a player’s aid. After each player completes their first turn, everyone at the table will understand exactly how the system works.

Jonathan Fryxelius makes it look easy, but anyone who has ever tried to design a game knows how hard it is to make something both fun and mechanically elegant. Achieving this level of clarity without sacrificing engagement is genuinely impressive. From a structural standpoint, it’s a masterclass in game design.

At its core, the game gives you a village to defend. The problem, of course, is that you’re defending it with a handful of heroes against what quickly feels like an endless swarm of monsters approaching from all directions. That imbalance is the heart of the puzzle.

Although Fate is cooperative, the reality is that each player largely ends up responsible for defending one direction of attack. You can occasionally assist one another, but even with four heroes on the board, covering every approach is nearly impossible.

Interestingly, this structure solves one of the classic problems of cooperative games: the dreaded “alpha player.” Because there’s simply too much happening in too many places, no single player can realistically dictate the optimal move for everyone else. Each hero has their own situation to manage, which keeps decision-making personal and engaging.

It might look like these two heroes are fighting side by side, but three spaces away might as well be a different zip code. These heroes are in the trenches fighting their own battles.

The overall goal is to leverage your hero’s strengths against enemy weaknesses while developing your character into a more efficient monster-slaying machine. But there are complications.

Heroes will take damage, sometimes a lot of it, and eventually they’ll need to retreat back to the village to heal before returning to the fight. Every action matters, every movement counts, and even a small miscalculation can result in losing a building or two. If a hero actually gets knocked out, it’s an absolute disaster!

The margin between victory and disaster is razor-thin. That tension creates a constant sense of pressure, and within that pressure lies the excitement.

In fact, losing in Fate can be almost as entertaining as winning. When you win, everyone celebrates and congratulates themselves on a job well done. When you lose, the post-game conversation tends to be much more animated as players dissect the moment things went wrong, debating mistakes, bad luck, and missed opportunities before inevitably suggesting, “Alright… let’s try that again.”

Thanks to the game’s streamlined mechanics, these discussions rarely devolve into rules debates. The system is clean enough that players spend their time thinking about strategy rather than arguing about edge cases. When the game ends, win or lose, you know exactly which decisions led you there.

A major part of the gameplay revolves around three different types of hero cards.

First are the Quest and Equipment cards. These function as small missions that reward you with new gear once completed, essentially the board game equivalent of finishing a side quest and receiving a magical item.

The catch is that these quests often require you to do something inefficient, such as traveling to a specific location or defeating a particular monster type. Pursuing equipment can therefore, pull you away from more urgent threats. Chasing powerful gear can be tempting, but if you get too greedy, you might doom the entire group. On the other hand, ignoring upgrades entirely can leave you underpowered in the late game. It’s a beautifully designed tension that forces players to make imperfect decisions.

Equipment cards are crucial to success, but also typically the most difficult to get because of the quest requirements. It’s a good balance between risk vs. reward.

Second are the Event cards. These are one-shot abilities that can dramatically influence a turn, granting extra movement, healing, bonus attacks, or additional damage. They’re powerful tools that reward clever timing and creative combinations. A well-played event card can turn a desperate situation into a heroic moment.

Even cards are less reliable since they are one-time use, so it’s all about timing. By the way, how about this art? So good, I mean, I know I complained a bit about the originality of the theme, there are so many Viking games these days, but man, you can’t complain about the originality of this art, so amazing, I love it.

Finally, there are the Ability cards. These are purchased using gold (which also doubles as experience) earned primarily by killing monsters. Ability cards represent permanent upgrades to your hero and are arguably the most reliable way to grow stronger over the course of the game, though this can be a slow process.

Many of the more powerful abilities require charging before they can be used, meaning you might only unleash them every couple of turns. But when the moment is right, they can produce spectacular results.

Abilities have big effects on the game, things like Suppressive Fire can completetly shutdown an enemy movement, for example. Stuff like that is the difference between winning and losing in Fate; these are key progressions, must-haves to win the game.

In many ways, the game becomes a race to unlock your stronger abilities before the board state spirals out of control. Event cards alone won’t carry you through the late game; you’ll need a solid combination of equipment and abilities if you hope to survive the final rounds.

Each hero begins the game with a unique ability and piece of equipment that effectively defines their class. Some heroes are stronger, some are tougher, some are faster, and others rely on trickery. It’s a very classic design philosophy, straight out of the old Gygaxian playbook, but it works extremely well here. Each hero feels distinct and useful without any of them feeling clearly superior.

The game also includes several setup options that adjust difficulty and length. Importantly, none of these add extra complexity; they simply make the same game harder.

The time tracker offers both short and long game options, though in practice, Fate will usually take a couple of hours unless the players lose early. The tracker mostly affects how long the game lasts when you actually manage to survive.

Another option I strongly recommend is the Monster Dice variant. This die is rolled during the monster phase and introduces small, unpredictable twists to enemy behavior. Once you become familiar with the base system, this rule adds a welcome bit of chaos that keeps things from becoming too predictable.

I think the monster die is probably one of the most effective ways to disrupt game mastery that I think most people will attain on repeat plays. An unscheduled charge or push, for example, can create a whole lot of unexpected chaos, and I think that is really good for this game. It’s a vital part that keeps the players on their toes.

The monster AI itself is straightforward. Enemies move and attack according to clear rules, advancing steadily toward the village. They appear faster than you can realistically eliminate them, which creates the constant feeling of being overwhelmed.

At its heart, Fate is a game about damage control. You’re managing a crisis that is slowly spiraling out of control while trying to survive inside what feels like a steadily tightening pressure cooker.

It’s a compelling system that keeps everyone thinking, planning, and adapting. That said, there are a couple of observations worth mentioning.

For my group, the difficulty wasn’t especially great. On our very first play, we used the highest difficulty setting along with the Monster Dice variant. The game came down to the final turn and the final die roll, a dramatic finish that had everyone cheering when we pulled off the win.

The surprising part was that this was our first game. I was expecting to get crushed.

We had just learned the rules and already managed to beat it at maximum difficulty? For my group, that made the challenge feel a bit soft.

To be fair, my gaming group is extremely competitive and very experienced with strategy games. Designing a cooperative game that truly challenges players like that would probably make the game nearly impossible for everyone else.

And when I later played the game with my daughter and her friends, we were crushed almost immediately.

Their reaction was simple and immediate:
“Wow… this game is so hard.”

So in the end, the difficulty really depends on who’s sitting at the table.

All said and done, I found little to complain about when it comes to Fate other than my own personal bias against cooperative games. I’m clearly not the target audience here, and that is not an issue with Fate; that is just a preference thing. I think this is a really well-designed cooperative strategy game, and I think fans of the genre and this style of play, will find that Jonathan’s take on it is exceptionally well done and polished.

Replay-ability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: The game is easy to teach and learn, making it an attractive choice with a younger crowd or even potentially as a sort of quasi-party game.

Cons:  Once you find the groove and win a few games, the fire will die down.

Even if you’re a big fan of cooperative games, I think it’s fair to say that Fate: Defenders of Grimheim has a somewhat limited shelf life. After you’ve beaten it a few times, the urgency to jump back in starts to fade. That’s not necessarily a flaw of this particular game, it’s simply the nature of many player-versus-AI designs.

There are, of course, exceptions. I mentioned The Lord of the Rings: The Card Game earlier, and one of the reasons that game has such extraordinary replayability is the sheer mountain of content available for it. With countless expansions and new quests, every play session can feel like a completely different experience.

Fate, on the other hand, largely offers a single core scenario. The specific circumstances of each game will vary, the enemies drawn, the dice rolls, the choices players make, but the overall structure of the experience remains largely the same.

That said, the design clearly leaves a lot of room for expansion. In fact, the core box almost feels like the starting point for what could easily become a broader game line. New monsters, heroes, scenarios, and objectives could dramatically increase the longevity of the system.

As it stands, I ended up playing the game about half a dozen times with my daughter. Most of those games were losses, and interestingly enough, that actually fuels replayability. Nothing motivates another round quite like getting crushed by a swarm of monsters and wanting revenge.

Until you start winning consistently, that competitive itch will probably keep pulling you back to the table.

Overall, I do think Fate offers enough replay value to justify its price. It’s simple enough to teach quickly, yet engaging enough to satisfy experienced gamers. In fact, the game has a bit of a “party game” energy to it, winning is fun, but losing can be just as entertaining thanks to the post-game analysis and table chatter.

For that reason, I can easily see it occupying a nice niche spot on the shelf. It’s the kind of game you can pull out with a mixed group or a younger audience without worrying about overwhelming them with complexity.

And in that regard, it worked wonderfully with my daughter.

Conclusion

One of the main reasons I like my review system is the use of Tilts. It allows a game to push through to a strong overall score if it excels where it truly matters, even if it’s a little weaker in areas that aren’t as critical to the experience.

I don’t usually explain that in the conclusion, but this review is actually a perfect example of the system working exactly as intended. And I’ll admit, I’m rather pleased with myself about that, because the final score reflects my feelings about this game very accurately.

Yes, the replayability and theme fall a bit into the “perfectly fine, nothing spectacular” category. But that’s not really where this game lives or dies. The real strength of Fate: Defenders of Grimheim lies in its gameplay and its presentation.

This is an incredibly approachable game. It’s easy to get to the table, easy to teach, and within minutes, everyone is rolling dice, fighting monsters, and having a good time. The visual presentation does a lot of heavy lifting here, the artwork, board, and components make the game instantly inviting, and the clarity of the design keeps things running smoothly once the action starts.

While the mechanics are simple to grasp, the game still presents a respectable challenge for the right group. I probably wouldn’t break this out very often for my veteran gaming crew, they’d likely solve the puzzle fairly quickly, but for a typical group looking for a fun Friday night game, this one really sticks the landing. I think it’s a great family game.

And it clearly works well with younger players too. As I’m writing this review, my daughter is already asking if we can play again. Last night we got absolutely crushed, and she’s apparently been developing a new strategy that she’s convinced will win the game “for sure this time.”

So credit where it’s due.

Jonathan Fryxelius is a brilliant designer, and Fate: Defenders of Grimheim is a genuinely fun addition to the cooperative genre. I have a strong feeling that a lot of people are going to enjoy this one.

The Big Board Gaming Weekend – 2025

Like every year, my gaming crew gathered for a four-day pilgrimage of BBQ, beer, and board games. We call it Hassela Weekend, named after the sleepy little Swedish countryside village where it all goes down. Now in its ninth legendary year, it’s the crown jewel of our gaming calendar and this blog post is the tale of our latest adventure. Enjoy the chronicles!

The Fellowship of the Ring: Trick-Taking Game

We began our journey into the weekend with a cozy warm-up while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive. Enter a charming little trick-taking game for four players, The Fellowship of the Ring: The Trick-Taking Game. This beautifully crafted card game is built on the bones of The Crew, the cooperative classic that made a splash in the board game world just a few years ago.

The crew was quite a hit, for a simple trick-taking game to break into the top 100 on boardgamegeek is a big deal.

The concept is straightforward: work together to complete card “tricks”, without knowing what cards your companions are holding. But, like a mischievous ring of power, there’s a twist. Each mission has special conditions that determine how those tricks must be completed. Unlike The Crew, though, the challenges here aren’t static; there’s actual strategy in planning your quest.

Players choose story-driven characters tied to specific chapters in the Fellowship’s saga, and those roles shape the rules and order of play for each mission. The characters you pick affect not only the constraints but also your chances of success, making the pre-mission phase feel like preparing for a trek through Moria with the wrong crew.

The difficulty escalates with each completed mission, starting out light-hearted and deceptively manageable, until suddenly, you’re Gandalf deep in the Mines, clutching your forehead, wondering where it all went wrong. What starts as a breezy filler becomes a real mental challenge as the tension builds.

Personally, I loved it. It fills the same niche as The Crew, a quick, cooperative brain-teaser but I’m a sucker for the theme, and I found the mission structure tied to the characters far more compelling than The Crew’s more generic objectives.

So, if The Crew hooked you, and you’ve ever dreamed of traveling with Frodo and friends, this one’s a no-brainer. The artwork is gorgeous, the components are solid, and it’s easy to teach yet sneakily addictive. A perfect first step on our Hassela Weekend.

Vampire: The Masquerade – Vendetta

During our Hassela Weekend, each player gets to pick a handful of games to bring to the table, and with five or six of us in attendance, that means you’ve got two, maybe three slots to make your mark. So when I chose Vampire: The Masquerade – Vendetta from a massive library of games, know that it wasn’t just a pick, it was an endorsement of the highest order.

You see, most of us in this group are old blood when it comes to Vampire: The Masquerade. We know the World of Darkness like it’s etched into our souls and in some cases, quite literally. Let’s just say one of the crew may or may not be walking around with their favorite clan’s sigil tattooed on their arm. The passion is real.

Vendetta may not be the RPG, but it’s the next best thing. For a brief, deliciously dark hour, it captures the political paranoia, the whispered alliances, and the backstabbing brilliance of the setting with unnerving precision. It oozes theme. On paper, it’s a simple game: you’re battling for control over various city locations to gain influence (points). But in practice, it’s a shadow war made up of meticulous card placement and expertly executed card abilities.

There are quite a few vampire-based card games out there. I think Heritage tries to be a bit closer to the RPG with the legacy concept, and while I think it’s an excellent game, at some point you have to ask yourself if you’re going to take it this far, why not just play the RPG?

Nothing in this game is fair, and absolutely nothing is safe. You’re constantly watching your back, guessing what your rivals will do, trying to outplay them with deception and ruthless timing. Each clan is a twisted mirror of power, all potent in their own right, but no two alike. Success hinges on your ability to read the room and strike at just the right moment.

We played it with six players for the first time, which splits the table into pairs of unholy alliances. It changes the vibe a little bit: you still want to win, but now you’re also dancing with a partner, plotting your shared rise to power. It works, but I think I prefer to plot the destruction of my enemies on my own.

I adore this game. But I imagine, its fangs don’t bite quite as deep unless your group knows the lore. So much of the nuance, the tension, the delicious little faction details will fly under the radar if you’re not already initiated. But for us, it’s perfection. Vendetta is one of the best V:tM tabletop games out there next to the RPG, ruthless, stylish, and soaked in blood-soaked atmosphere.

Raise The Goblets

Raise the Goblets is, in a word, gloriously dumb, and I mean that as the highest compliment. This is the kind of game that absolutely belongs in your collection, not because it’s deep or strategic, but because it turns your table into a laughing, backstabbing mess of theatrical absurdity.

Firmly planted in the “silly party game” category, this one’s all about slipping poison into your fellow nobles’ drinks while desperately trying not to sip something fatal yourself. The goal is to stay alive, take someone out, and toast to your own devious brilliance.

Each player gets a character with a special power, and then the chaos begins: goblets are swapped, rotated, passed, and spiked with poison, antidote, or occasionally, some actual wine. The whole thing plays like a medieval dinner party gone horribly wrong, and it’s magnificent. At some point, everyone has to drink what is in front of them, but while you can occasionally sneak a peek on your turn, there is so much manipulation going on that most of the time, you haven’t a clue what’s actually in your cup.

At Hassela, we tend to fill our days with heavy, brain-melting games, so something like Raise the Goblets is essential. It’s our palate cleanser, light, chaotic, and guaranteed to generate a few dramatic “death” scenes and outbursts of laughter.

It’s easy to teach, ridiculously fun, and family-friendly in a “Disney villain banquet” kind of way.

Blood Rage

There are games and then there are symphonies.

Eric Lang’s Blood Rage isn’t just a game; it’s the hammerfall of modern board game design. In over ten years of writing for Gamers Dungeon, it remains the only title I’ve ever awarded a perfect 5 out of 5. A decade of reviews, thousands of hours at the table, and still nothing has dethroned it.

Its appearance at our annual Hassela gaming retreat is never in doubt. Even on the rare years it doesn’t make it to the table, its box sits there like a slumbering god, watching, waiting. Blood Rage isn’t a question of if, it’s when.

You might wonder why the devotion?

Because this game is pure, unflinching execution. There are no dice, no randomness, no fate to plead with. Just you, your strategies, and the brutal elegance of a system that rewards only the sharpest minds. The best player will win. No excuses. No mercy.

That’s what makes Blood Rage so satisfying. It’s chess with axes. A ballet of blood and fire. Every move matters. Every draft is a prophecy. Every battle, a poem written in steel and rage. It is area control refined to the finest and deadliest edge.

The theme is flawless. This game doesn’t just use Viking mythology, it embodies it. Ragnarok isn’t just a backdrop, it’s the ticking heart of the game. The art is ferocious, the miniatures stunning, and the production so good it makes lesser games look like goat herding simulators.

The question I often get asked is whether it’s really that perfect, and the short answer is nothing is perfect-perfect, but this is as close as you are ever going to get.

If I were to be brutally honest and in the spirit of Odin’s wisdom, I must be, I’d say there is one hairline crack in this otherwise indestructible blade: the monsters. They’re mighty, they’re beautiful, but over the years of play, we’ve seen their impact dulled by one simple truth: they still need an open spot on the board to function. And when the smartest play is to deny those spots, even the most fearsome beast becomes a caged wolf.

Whether that is a real flaw or just a wrinkle is debatable. A battle scar on a veteran warrior, perhaps. And maybe, in some poetic way, it makes the game better because even the monsters bow to the gods of positioning and control. I don’t know, my crew theorizes about this, and I think most of us agree that we wish the monsters were just ever so slightly more effective in breaking up some of the uncrackable strategies that we have developed.

Blood Rage is more than essential in my opinion. It’s foundational. If you care about game design, hell, if you even pretend to, this belongs on your shelf. Not just to play, but to study. To admire. To inspire.

Wonderful game, top marks since the first time I played it.

Valor and Villainy: Minions of Mordak

First introduced to our crew last year, Valor and Villainy: Minions of Mordak made a triumphant return to the Hassela Weekend lineup, proving its staying power with a second round of magical mayhem and villainous gloating.

Honestly, I’m not surprised. Our group is a bit of a chimera: part deep-strategy tacticians, part storytelling adventurers. The games that tend to hit hardest are the ones that walk the line between tactical depth and thematic flair. Valor and Villainy fits that bill like a wizard in a bathrobe, funny on the outside, but hiding real power under the hood.

It’s got a delightfully goofy fantasy setting, brought to life with hilarious writing and some top-tier cartoon art. But don’t be fooled, it isn’t all jokes and japes. Underneath the humor is a legitimately tactical engine. Sure, it looks like a lightweight romp, but there’s meat on these monster-slaying bones.

That said, it does lean toward the adventure side. Most of the game is spent planning your turn to bash baddies, grab loot, and prepare for the grand finale: the showdown with Mordak, the all-powerful antagonist controlled by one lucky player. Mordak’s job is simply to wipe the floor with the heroes before they grow too powerful.

Now, we’ve had a few sessions where the villain felt like little more than a magical punching bag, and I started to wonder if the balance was a bit off. But this year’s Mordak player brought the heat, playing smart, conserving resources, and nearly turning the tables. The entire game came down to a single, heart-pounding die roll. The heroes won again… but only just. Mordak can win. We know this now, and I think everyone witnessed just how it’s done. The days of easy take-downs are over.

It’s a fun ride. Not my personal go-to genre, but as with all things at Hassela, it’s about shared experiences and giving everyone a turn at the wheel. And really, this one’s a crowd-pleaser, easy to learn and teach. A perfect family game. Picture a parent as Mordak cackling across the table while the kids band together to save the realm. That’s good gaming right there.

Viticulture

I’m not here to stomp on Viticulture. It’s a genuinely clever, tight, and thoughtfully strategic game. It has that elegant Euro charm: plant your vines, harvest your grapes, make your wine, and hope the tourists show up. But in the context of the Hassela weekend? It just didn’t pour right.

There are two reasons why.

First: Viticulture sings best at 3, maybe 4 players. At 5 or 6 (and yes, we played with 6), the game stretches out like a long, slow summer in Tuscany. What’s usually a crisp, hour-long worker placement game becomes a two-to-two-and-a-half hour grind. And for a game this streamlined and abstract, that extra time doesn’t add richness; it adds fatigue. The decisions don’t get deeper. They just get slower.

Second: Viticulture is one of those games where the magic reveals itself on the second and/or repeated plays. If it’s your first time or your first time in a long while, you’ll likely spend the first half of the game just trying to remember how the wine even gets bottled. The strategy, the timing, the flow, they all click beautifully, but only once you know what you’re doing. For newcomers, it’s a slow realization that dawns just a bit too late to be competitive, leading to a kind of disappointment. If you could just get a do-over, you would do so much better.

And unfortunately, at Hassela we had the perfect storm: a full six-player game with half the table either new or rusty. That meant long pauses, muddled turns, and a general sense of “wait, I fucked that up!” No one hated it, but no one walked away glowing either. It was… fine. Just fine. And for a game with this much potential, that felt like a bit of a letdown. Especially for me, since I too had that rusty feeling, but after the game, it started coming back to me, and I remembered why I bought and brought the game with me in the first place.

I think Viticulture is a great game. Just not for six players. And not for a weekend like Hassela, where table time is precious and first impressions matter. I’d be surprised if it makes the invitation list again next year, but who knows? Maybe one day, with a smaller group and a little more wine knowledge, it’ll get the second chance it deserves.

Oath

Oath was, oddly enough, the highlight of the weekend for me. But not because I had an amazing play experience, far from it. The actual game session was long, confusing, and at times frustrating. What made it stand out was something deeper: a fascination with the game’s design, its mechanics, and its ambition. It felt like standing at the gates of something brilliant, even if I couldn’t quite get inside or even fully understand what I was looking at.

Right from the start, Oath pulled me in like the first chapter of an epic fantasy novel. The visual design is stunning, with that distinctive Kyle Ferrin artwork (of Root and Arcs fame) giving the game a unique sense of place and personality. But it wasn’t just the art, it was the concept that really gripped me.

At its core, Oath is a political war game. One player begins as the ruler—the Chancellor and everyone else is an outsider, a potential usurper. But it’s not as rigid as that sounds. Mid-game, you can choose to join the Chancellor and become a Citizen, aligning your goals with theirs… or even betray them later down the line. You can be exiled. You can rise. You can fall. The system is feudal, chaotic, personal, layered with intrigue and shifting alliances. That alone is compelling.

But Oath goes further: it’s a legacy game, not in the tear-up-cards sense, but in how the outcomes of each game shape the world for the next. The sites, the factions, the ruling powers, they evolve. Over time, you create the history of this fictional land. And that idea, that’s the sort of thing I live for in board games. Concepts like this add a layer of personalization that develop into rivalries that can become almost a sub-game within a game, and I think in a way that is what Oath is going for here.

Cole Wehrle, in my eye’s, is one of the most intriguing designers to come along in quite a while. From Root to Arc and John Company, he is putting out games that are redefining what it means to sit around a table with your friends and play a board game. I think Oath might just be one of the most interesting one in his design history yet.

Unfortunately, our session didn’t quite live up to that promise. It wasn’t bad, it was just… off. The game’s mechanics are surprisingly clean and elegant. Move around the map with your warband. Conquer sites. Play and manipulate cards. Manage your limited supply of resources. Simple enough. But the depth isn’t in the actions, it’s in how those actions interact with each other, and in the timing, the strategy, and the layers of emergent storytelling. And we just weren’t ready for that, or perhaps better to say that we didn’t find it in what amounted to a kind of learning game.

Most of us spent the first half of the game just trying to figure out what the hell we were supposed to do, not because the rules were complicated (they weren’t), but because the game’s nuance is subtle and entirely dependent on understanding your position in the system. It’s not obvious. It doesn’t hold your hand. And if you don’t “get” it early, it’s easy to get lost.

The result was a session that stretched well past five hours for a game that, if everyone knew what they were doing, probably could have been played in two. Six players were too many, especially for a table where most of us were new to the game, and others who had played it had formed negative opinions on previous, but similar learning games, resulting in the game living up to the resulting negative expectations. Four players might have been better. But even then, I think Oath demands a group that’s fully bought in and committed to playing multiple sessions, building a shared history, and exploring the game’s complex social and political possibilities.

And at the Hassela board game event, that just wasn’t the vibe.

What makes this hard is that I genuinely think Oath might be a masterpiece. I really do. But it’s a strange one, difficult to categorize. It’s not exactly a war game. It’s not a pure legacy game. It’s not just a Euro, or an area control, or an RPG-adjacent narrative builder. It’s Oath. And I think that’s the problem, it might just be a little too unique for its own good.

You have to love this kind of game to even want to “get it.” It’s not about rules comprehension, though; it’s about being attracted to this peculiar blend of theme, tension, abstraction, and emergent narrative. You need a group willing to lean into the strangeness and stick around long enough for the game to reveal its depth. At least this is my impression, whether Oath actually has that depth I would hope to find remains to be seen and I’m not sure I’m going to get the opportunity to find out.

Oath will probably end up back on the shelf, gathering dust based on this first playthrough. I don’t think it quite gripped anyone in the same way as it did me. And that’s a shame. Because I want to try again. I want a second run, maybe even a full campaign with the right group. I want to see what this game can become and whether or not the game I’m hoping to find there actually exists. But I don’t know how to get there, or how to convince four to six other people to go there with me.

I’m not sure any of that makes sense, but basically, to me, the game I experienced during this weekend and the game that is in the box, I suspect, are not the same thing. I like to think of myself as being pretty perceptive and in tune with game design, given that I have been playing and writing about games for several decades at this point, and what I can say is that it’s quite rare for me to find something truly unique like Oath.

I think there is something under the hood here, and I’m very curious to explore it further.

Empires: Age of Discovery

Age of Discovery has long been a flagship title at our Hassela weekend, our own trusted galleon in a sea of changing tastes. It’s hit the table many times over the years, usually to triumphant applause. But this time… something felt different.

It wasn’t the game’s fault, per se. The sails are still crisp, the cannons still loaded. But perhaps the winds of modern board gaming have shifted. Worker placement games have evolved dramatically in the past decade, and Age of Discovery, once a towering conquistador of the genre, now feels a bit like an old empire grappling with new revolutions.

That said, Age of Discovery is more than just a worker placement game, and perhaps that is at the heart of the issue. It’s an abstract colonization simulator disguised in a worker placement cloak. The placement of your workers is only the opening maneuver, a careful disembarkation before the real expedition begins. What unfolds after is a tense struggle for land, gold, exploration, and domination. This is a game of empires, and if you fall behind, you will get crushed.

And in true imperial fashion, it’s not always polite.

Age of Discovery has teeth. Actions taken here can leave scars, players jockeying for position, muscling one another off prime territory, blocking moves, stealing opportunities. It’s not the gentle farming of Agricola or the tidy capitalism of Viticulture; it’s a game that evokes the cutthroat nature of colonial expansion, where every decision echoes with ambition and consequence. In a six-player game, 2-3 players are just going to get left behind in the dust, and you might have a couple of people actually competing by the end for the crown and glory. The game lacks comeback mechanics, so it’s not uncommon to see your empire’s impending failure as early as the end of the first age, a quarter into the game. That is a tough pill to swallow.

Personally, I still think it’s one of the best worker placement games ever made. If I drew up a map of the top 10, Age of Discovery would land firmly near the top. But I’ll admit my chart is a bit outdated. I haven’t explored many newer worker placement titles, maybe because I found my favorite harbors long ago and dropped anchor.

Still, Age of Discovery has what I want: thematic depth, strategic brutality, and a sprawling table presence. It feels like the Age of Exploration. You send your settlers across vast oceans, claim the unknown, clash with rivals, and build your legacy one exploited province at a time. Sometimes the endeavor is a failure, and as brutal as it can feel to be defeated, it’s part of the game.

One drawback I do think the game has is that it can feel a bit long, especially at six players and especially if you’re doing poorly. But then again, empire-building isn’t a short-term project.

If you like your Eurogames with salt in the air and the occasional knife in the back, Empires: Age of Discovery is worth charting a course for. Just remember, this is no friendly trading voyage. This is conquest. This is colonization. And in this game, history is written by the victor.

Bang The Dice Game

Just a quick mention, this staple of the Hassela weekend has been played every year since we discovered it. I have no idea if it’s a “good game” by any measure of the definition beyond the simple fact that it’s silly fun. It’s a perfect filler, and it has the charm of combining hidden identity and the chaos of dice into one game. It’s not quite of the same caliber as Love Letter or Coup, but sometimes games weasel their way into a gaming group’s playlist for ineffable reasons.

Make of that what you will.

Red Rising

Once labeled “absent of any endorphins” at last year’s gathering, I was genuinely surprised to see Red Rising return to the table at Hassela. Yet there it was, quiet and unassuming.

Red Rising is a strange creature. On its surface, it seems like a mere diversion; its rules are straightforward, even sparse, but beneath that veneer lies a machination of choices, a lattice of decisions so tight and intricate that you can actually miss it, which is what I think happened last time we tried it.

Every card you place is both a sacrifice and a step toward dominion. You build alliances in your hand while burning them on the table, all in service of progress across shifting tracks that you have to pace carefully. Every move is a compromise.

What makes it so treacherous and perhaps brilliant is that the end looms like a whisper, never certain, always threatening because it’s based on the very tracks that score you points. You don’t know exactly when someone will trigger the final curtain call, and getting caught unprepared before your hand is ready is devastating, yet stalling it for fear of the end is equally bad. It’s a rare thing: a game where the tension builds without spectacle, a slow-burn conspiracy played in plain sight. I would argue that at the very least, we can call Red Rising clever.

And perhaps that’s why it was better this time. We understood the contours a bit more, the rhythm of its strange economy. The crew around the table, fond of card-driven intrigue, seemed to resonate with it more deeply this time around. The verdict is still out, but for now, Red Rising has earned a cautious reprieve.

It’s a quick affair, once the rules and the general strategy of the game are known. Not quite a filler, not quite a feast, but something like a tactical interlude between wars. I’d return to its cold, calculating corridors again, but I’m not sure I’m ready to recommend it. I would put it in the “curiosity” category. I think some tables might like it.

Dead of Winter

I have a rather tumultuous relationship with Dead of Winter. Sometimes it grips me like a survival thriller I can’t put down, tension rising, frost creeping up the edges. Other times, it drags like a limp dick through snow, cold, sluggish, and joyless. And then, just when I think I’m done with it, some spark reignites the flame like an ex-girlfriend who seems less crazy in a bikini.

The truth is, Dead of Winter has a lot going for it. I love the premise, zombie apocalypse survival with narrative tension. I love games with storytelling, and this one clearly has effort behind its writing. The Crossroads system is brilliant, and mechanically, the game is clever. It should be one of my favorites in theory.

But it’s not.

And the reason is simple: I absolutely loathe the win conditions.

At the core of Dead of Winter lies a conflict, not just between the colony and the undead, but between the game’s mechanics and my philosophy as a gamer. Each player receives a personal objective. To win, you must both ensure the colony’s survival and complete your private task. Tasks that, more often than not, directly jeopardize the group’s success.

Now, thematically, I think it’s on point. It captures the desperation and selfishness of a crumbling world. But as a player, as someone who sees games as a battlefield of wits and willpower, I just can’t abide by it.

Because here’s the deal: I don’t play to help someone else win. If I’m going down, I’m dragging the whole colony into the snow with me. And when that moment comes, the moment I sabotage the group to chase my own victory, tempers flare. People see it as not just selfishness in a game environment, but a sort of player selfishness, and get genuinely upset as a result. I don’t just get in-game exiled, but it draws out real-life irritation. And I get it. But I also don’t. Because to me, a game is a war with rules. We all know what we signed up for. I’m here to win.

The problem is Dead of Winter wants it both ways. It wants cooperative tension and personal ambition. It wants trust and treachery. And in that tug-of-war, it often creates a confused, emotionally charged experience. One I’m not always in the mood to navigate. The game leaves me with an odd kind of dread, not from the zombies or starvation, but from the awkward social fallout that’s almost guaranteed to follow when I sabotage our chances chasing my own victory. It’s made worse by the fact that the game is pretty unforgiving; more often than not, if someone pursues their personal victory, they are likely to tank the game.

Add to that the pacing issues; it’s just too damn long. Even in its shorter forms, I often feel like the frost sets in around the third crisis too many. And this time at Hassela, we chose a long, brutal scenario; it really dragged on, we were on like our third hour when we finally lost the game, and we were technically only 50% done. I think had we actually won and finished the game, it would have easily hit the 5-6 hour mark if not longer.

That said… I still can’t fully walk away from it, and the end game result from this weekend’s game is exactly why. It was hands down the best execution of a betrayer that I have seen in this or any other game, ever..period. Despite screwing us in plain sight, one of the players had us all convinced that he “accidentally” put in the wrong card in the crisis deck, a moment of theatre only a true psychopath could have pulled off. It’s brilliant and hilarious stuff like that, that can only happen in games like this and that may be reason enough to play it.

There’s something compelling about the way Dead of Winter wraps theme, story, and survival in such a sharp, splintered package. It’s a game I admire. It’s a game I sometimes enjoy, but it certainly has some glaring flaws that get in the way of the fun.

Lords of Waterdeep

The final game of the weekend was a stone-cold classic: Lords of Waterdeep, played with the Scoundrels of Skullport expansion.

It’s a simple D&D-themed worker placement game, elegant in its clarity, yet layered with just enough interaction and tension to keep everyone leaning forward. It’s clever without being exhausting, competitive without being cutthroat. A perfect wind-down after three intense days of gaming.

By the fourth morning, we were all running on fumes. The last game is always a bit of a solemn occasion. You can feel the end creeping in: the bags are half-packed, the snacks are dwindling, and the sunlight feels more like Monday than Sunday. But Waterdeep has a way of waking you up. Something about the logic of it, the satisfying little cube puzzles, the gentle engine-building rhythm, just gets your brain clicking again.

There’s interaction here, sure. Intrigue cards, blocking key spots, stealing quests. it’s not a passive game. But the stakes feel friendly. It’s the kind of game where even when someone snatches the agent space you desperately needed, you sigh, smile, and adjust. And let’s be honest, that is the real villain of Waterdeep: someone taking the spot you were eyeing for the last three turns.

I’ve always had a soft spot for this one. It knows what it is. No fluff, no filler, just clean mechanics and a clear path to victory. Everyone knows what to do. Everyone has a shot. Games are often close, especially at our table, where we’ve all played it so many times that victory is more about finesse than luck.

I’m not even sure if it’s still in print. It might be one of the last survivors from our early days, a game that predates Hassela, and for some of us, even predates our friendships. An oldie, but a goodie. And the perfect note to end on.

Conclusion

That’s it, that’s Hassela 2025, the 9th year – done. As is always the case, the games are mostly just a distraction, while I love the competition, the whole point is for a crew of friends to get together and spend a few days away from the hustle and bustle of our lives.

All and all I think it was a good list this year, but I was a bit disappointed that we didn’t introduce more new games. Oath was really the only completely new game to me , unless you count the Fellowship of the Ring Trick Taking Game, which was fun but didn’t really feel “new” in the truest sense.

Oath, however, did have me spinning. I love discoveries like that. Hope to see that one hit the table sometime soon.

Hope you enjoyed the article, see you next year, Hassela!

Top 10 Lifestyle Boardgames Worth The Effort and Top 5 That Didn’t Make It

There are board games, and then there are BOARD GAMES!—epic, brain-bending experiences that redefine what it means to gather around a table for game night. Once you delve a bit deeper into this hobby with an appetite for depth and challenge, you’ll find yourself discovering games where gameplay often demands much more than the average player might be ready to give.

These aren’t your casual diversions. We’re talking about games that push the boundaries with intricate strategies, meticulously designed simulations, and often marathon-length play sessions. They’re the kind of games that give back as much as they demand.

But let’s face it: not every complex game is worth the time and effort. Many fall short, bogged down by poor design, unnecessary complexity, or a lack of payoff. In this article, we’re diving into the fascinating realm of “lifestyle” games—those games that go beyond entertainment to become a full-blown hobby. These are games so rich, so challenging, and so immersive that simply learning to play them well feels like an achievement in itself.

Let’s explore the best (and maybe a few of the worst) of this exclusive club. Buckle up; it’s going to be a long one!

War Of The Ring

This classic Lord of the Rings boardgame that is part adventure game, part strategic war game is without question one of the most endearing games on this list. If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan looking for a two-player experience, this is the one that immediately pops into my head, but even as it does so, I can’t help but immediately point out the cautionary elements of this game.

It’s a long game and it’s a relatively complex game but this is not why I define it as a lifestyle game. The reality is that in order to get the most out of this game you need to have repeated plays of it, many…. so many repeated plays.

It takes many sessions to understand and come to terms with the subtle strategies of this game, the eben-flow of the asymmetric decks, the unique architecture of the map and the subtle way the gameplay is defined by the unique dice mechanic that may at first feel like a strange randomization in another why’s very thinky game, giving this one a kind of reactionary playstyle.

In short, this is not a game you play to try to win, rather you play the game to see what happens. In almost an RPG-like way, this board game is as much about telling the emergent tale of the entire trilogy of the Middle Earth story as it is a strategic war game. A concept that, for a Lord of the Rings fans, should hopefully spark excitement and anticipation. It’s a game where you get to explore what-if scenarios.

The game has a steep learning curve and the rules are not always intuitive, focused more on trying to bring out the story of the game and the realities of the Middle-earth world than being streamlined. Just explaining the game to a new player and having them come to terms with the nuances is going to take several plays and when you finally have that aha moment, you will find yourself in a permanent loop of “theory-crafting” different approaches, each demanding another session to try out your latest theory.

By the time you have played this game a dozen or so times, you will find yourself no closer to a definitive answer on how to play this game well or how to win at it and so you are drawn to it like a moth to a flame in the never-ending pursuit to figure it out. That is if it sticks the landing for you and I find that with many gamers, it doesn’t and this is why, finding like-minded opponents with a desire to explore the depths of this game becomes an important part of bringing the true nature and experience of this game to the forefront.

If you can find a good partner who loves Lord of the Rings as much as you do, what you have is an almost chess-like experience, a dual with eternal replayability that will have you creating and re-telling stories of “that one time” or describing past theories and gambits and its in this combination of attributes of the game, War of the Rings forms into a forever lifestyle game.

Western Empires

I have a love-hate relationship with this game mainly because it has this intangible quality, born part out of nostalgia for the classic game on which it is based (Advanced Civilization) but also because of its unusual mechanics that you will never see in any other game, creating this sort of abstracted, yet very story driven and personal experience. Simultaneously it’s frustratingly difficult to get to the table simply because of its scope and length of play.

It’s a massive game, playable by 5 to 9 players, but, quite clearly designed for 9 players specifically. A game that takes 12-24 hours to play, this is a massive epic-event game that can be made even bigger, up to 18 players by combining its sister game, Eastern Empires. To say this game is HUGE is an understatement. I say this without hesitation or exaggeration, this IS the single biggest boardgame ever made and I doubt we will ever see anything top it.

I don’t think it’s difficult to understand why I would proclaim this a lifestyle game, it takes enormous effort to get to the table, demanding a lot from its players, but why is it on the list? Especially given that this game also appears on my TOP 5 BOARDGAMES THAT WERE ALMOST GREAT, BUT HAD A FLAW THAT RUINED THEM list?

The answer is quite simple which is that the hard part of this game, unlike so many games on this list is simply getting X amount of players to sit down and play a game for Y amount of hours, in this case, the preferred X is 9 and the likely Y is 12-24 hours. It’s a bit much even for the most dedicated of gaming groups.

Despite its massive size, scope, and length, the mechanics of this game are surprisingly simple, at least in terms of understanding the “how” of playing the game. The beauty of this game is that it’s mostly a game about social interactions and player psychology. At the core of gameplay is trading resources and making high-level decisions, then living with some of the often impossible-to-predict outcomes. Much like real history, the story of the game is viewed in this sort of history concept where the culture you’re playing isn’t “you” or “your culture”, but this abstract engine you’re running in a grand historical concept of the world. You feel that personal ownership of the culture you’re running, as you would with any other civilization-building game, but there is this distance there because there really is only so much you can control strategically. This is a game you can win or lose simply because of bad luck, and that is a hard pill to swallow when you consider its length of play.

This is not a game you will win because you made the best strategic decisions, the best movement or tactical plan to overcome your opponent, or some clever leverage of mechanics. If there is any contributing factor to a victory it will be being the slickest salesman, the best negotiator, the most clever politician. It’s a game of subtle psychology, nuanced gambits, and social illusions, and these efforts make a huge difference but in the end, you might still get stuck with devastating calamities that will decimate all of your effort. As such the game is as much an activity as it is a game.

Yet despite that, a grandiose board it is. Massive and illustrious on the table, this game looks and feels like an event game, which makes this entry a unique lifestyle game to the list because it doesn’t have to be one. This is a game you can plan a big event around once a year and leave it at that, it works great for this purpose.

If however you can muster up the strength and the player count to get together more often, to dig deep into this games strategic layout, you will discover that in fact, while the game is played in the minds of the players, there is a lot to know about the motion and subtle tactics to this game. There is so much to learn and try out and while the game may not appear asymmetric as the only thing that differentiates one player from the other is the starting position on the map, this very small difference has a massive impact and each nation in this game has its own approach to be discovered.

Of all the games on this list, if I had my desires fulfilled this is the one lifestyle game I would choose for myself. A monthly game with a dedicated group to play this massive epic would be my definition of pure joy! As demanding as it is to get to the table, there is no doubt in my mind it’s one of the most timeless and unique gaming experience you can ever hope for.

Twilight Imperium

Over the years I have talked a lot about Twilight Imperium on this blog and it’s not a secret that I’m a fan, but when I talk to members of my group they often speak about this game in a negative light and I think that is because, contrary to what I used to believe about this game, it doesn’t make for a good event game. It is a lifestyle game, arguably almost exclusively so and that perhaps explains why my group maybe doesn’t love it the way I do, as I have, in the past, played this game as a lifestyle game and I know how that experience differs to simply running this as a once in a while event game which is the experience all the members of my group have with this game.

What is the subtle difference? The answer is that the game has an endlessly complex well of depth, not just in the way the rules execute, but in the subtle way the game is balanced between the sociology of the game and the impact of mechanics.

This is not a game you can win by outplaying everyone using mechanics alone, it’s a game where, like chess, you have to get your opponents to make a mistake and when that mistake is made and you leverage it, you make your move. Other (less experienced) players might look on this as a game they lost because someone did something stupid. In an event game, this can feel like king-making as players are unfamiliar with the subtle art of forcing a mistake in this game.

See the game is deep, very deep strategically with tons of unique interactions and hard-to-extrapolate balances hidden within the game’s uniquely asymmetrical elements with so much nuance, I could write a 12-book volume set on the strategies related to the different races in the game alone. This high-level understanding of the game however is not transferable, it’s not something you can teach, it’s the result of having played it countless times over two decades. This is not something I can explain to players even on a high level when teaching them to play so in an event scenario where the game is played as a one-off, players know the rules, but they are dozens of plays away from even realizing that such subtlety exists, let alone knowing what to do with that knowledge.

I don’t think I’m overselling it, I think a Twilight Imperium player will understand how this nuanced realization completely changes your outlook on this game, it’s why there is a such a difference of opinion on this game. You can really see the difference between a Twilight Imperium player that explored the depths of the game reviews this game, versus someone who casually dips their toes in. There is a massive difference in the two experiences.

Twilight Imperium definitely falls into the lifestyle or nothing category and I can always tell when I’m talking to someone who has “tried it once or twice” and someone who has “played it for years like me”. It’s almost like a secret language, a kind of understanding that can’t be learned from reading about the game or studying the rules of the game, watching or theorizing about it, this secret understanding comes only from countless repeated plays.

For science-fiction fans who love civilization-building games (4x games), Twilight Imperium is a revelation, and don’t let any other game marketing convince you otherwise. There are no games that do the same thing or even anything approaching Twilight Imperium. There are no games that come within a million light years of this one, in fact, many games make the claim that they are “lighter” versions of Twilight Imperium or are “shorter” versions of Twilight Imperium. This simply is a false advertisement and what’s egregious about these advertisements is that it’s clear the people making that claim don’t have the faintest clue what Twilight Imperium is or how stupid they sound when they make such claims. There are no alternatives to Twilight Imperium, it is a unique, white-elephant, one-of-a-kind lifestyle game that has no competition in this genre. It’s the ultimate Science-Fiction Civilization Builder in a class of its own.

Empire Of The Sun

Empire of the Sun, much like War of the Rings is an in-depth strategy game with a primary goal of telling (or perhaps better to say re-telling) a story, in this case, the entirety of the war in the Pacific.

The caveat is unlike War of the Rings, Empire of the Sun is a simulation and complex mechanics weigh heavily on the game, in a word, this is the most complex game I have ever played and by a considerable margin. In fact, it took the better part of a year of constant attempts to play it, pouring over rules, watching videos, studying the game and even direct interaction with its designer, Mark Herman before I was certain I was playing the game “mostly” correctly.

That in itself requires a level of commitment to the game that goes far beyond a typical board game night, placing it squarely in the lifestyle game arena.

It is a fantastic game, but it’s made by and for historical war gamers who care about the most finite of details the most accurate of representation and the most researched of content. Every inch of this game is as historically accurate as a historian could make it and the decisions you make in this game are very much the same decisions the generals of the actual war had to make, with outcomes that simulate this war with precision only the most informed historian could fully appreciate.

It is an amazing game with tremendous detail, it takes two very dedicated players, ready to spend hundreds of hours studying the nuances of this game and its many rules and rules exceptions, but it is also hands down one of the most rewarding games I have ever played. This game tells a story like nothing I have ever played before, and it does it with a hex map, some cards, and tokens.

From where I’m standing this is one of the best game designs in all of board gaming, it’s a masterpiece. If you are going to choose something as a lifestyle game, this one will not disappoint, with the caveat of course being that you have to get through a very tough learning curve first and you have an insatiable hunger for historical war gaming.

Paths Of Glory

While we are on the subject of historical war games, like Empire of the Sun, Paths of Glory essentially fits the same niche and in the same way. While arguably the learning curve is a bit simpler on the rules side, it’s no less robust, deep, and dynamic than Empire of the Sun.

There are a couple of things that segregate Empire of the Sun and Paths of Glory. The first is the historical period. World War I and World War II have a completely different set of political and geo-centric problems to solve, most notably World War I isn’t as cut and dry as good guys and bad guys and the war tends to escalate over time with more countries entering the war at different points in Paths of Glory which creates an entirely unique set of circumstances in each game. There are two distinct sides in this two-player game, but the game states can vary wildly from game to game, so it feels like a chess game where you are not even certain what pieces you will have in the course of the game to work with. In a way, it’s less tactical and more strategic with a lot of attrition.

The card play is quite similar between Empire of the Sun and Paths of Glory, there is no question that these games influenced each other, but I think Paths of Glory has a more dynamic system. In part because in Paths of Glory the recruitment of soldiers is part of the resource management, whereas in Emprie of the Sun you have a fixed schedule. This doesn’t make one better than the other, but you do tend to end up with a more dynamic outcome in Paths of Glory, as the flow of the game can be wildly unpredictable at times. Aside from the opening moves, there is very little pre-ordained strategy in the game. Empire of the Sun tends to, regardless of player decision, have certain historical points you will hit, but with Paths of Glory, things can become wildly different depending on player decisions and you will rarely have a historical outcome when the game finishes. You do a lot more historical re-writing in Paths of Glory and some players prefer that.

This debate is neither here nor there, in my eyes, these are both amazing games, and frankly, if you play one, it makes learning the other easier, so for me personally, if you choose a game like Empire of the Sun as a lifestyle game, it’s not a big stretch to include something like Paths of Glory as part of your repriotore just to shake things up now and again.

Terraforming Mars

This might be a rather odd entry into this genre because Terraforming Mars is actually a relatively simple game to understand, it really doesn’t take that long to play, at least compared to other games on this list and it does just fine as a pickup and play game for a board game night.

So, how does this one make it onto the list of a lifestyle game? There are three unique reasons that allow this game to rise from your typical euro game pick-up game and into the realm of lifestyle games.

The first is the unique game states that this game creates, driving a truly dynamic and highly competitive atmosphere at the table with a tremendous amount of nuance and interaction between players that require both short term and long-term planning and execution. Much like a collectible-competitive card game draft, players create their tableau from a combination of card draw (random cards) and spending resources on cards that become available, meaning the game is both pro-active and re-active. This creates a unique set of circumstances each game that never repeats, resulting in a fascinating puzzle for you to solve and requiring new strategic direction each game.

The second thing is that the game, on a competitive level, is incredibly tight. The more you play this game, and the closer you get to that most optimum play level, the more critical of a role each action you take has on the outcome of the game. It’s a very interesting effect in the game that you can really see, but when you first start playing the games victory point difference can be as much as 50+ points, but after a while people start winning this game by 2-3 points. You come to a sort of strategic mastery level of playing this game, but to get to that, you have to go really deep into this games amazing and diverse gameplay. You really have to outthink your opponents on an incredibly high level and build engines based on the unique combination of resources (namely cards) that become available to you. The replayability here is infinite and you are never truly done assessing the games finer details.

Finally and perhaps most importantly the game has a plethora of expansions that completely re-define established elements and this drives the game to ever-increasing complexity and sophistication. The game becomes almost overwhelming robust and this is a good thing for a lifestyle game because one of the key requirements of a good lifestyle game is that there is no end or repetition in what you are doing, each game is a new challenge and just when you think you have it figured out, you add one of the expansions that completely unravels all the theories and forces you to re-think and re-imagine your victory.

To me, Terraforming Mars is a highly competitive and very intelligent game that really deserves to be on this list, its nuanced and it takes time to really fully grasp its high-level strategies and even when you get there, each card draw, each card draft, and each play on the board forces you to redefine your route to victory.

War Room

This Larry Harris-designed masterpiece is my favorite game of all time and while I believe it to be far better suited as an Event Game, I do believe it has the mustard and stamina to also be a lifestyle game.

This World War II monster, designed by the same guy that brought you Axis and Allies, is a simulation of the entire war, designed for up to 6 players. It takes about 10-12 hours to complete a game of War Room so this is definitely not a casual game by definition, but the reality is that the rules are quite simple and it is a team game so personally, I think it works great with both experienced and amateur players.

As a lifestyle game however there is one caveat because while the rules are simple there is considerable depth, especially in the math of the game and the way the asymmetrical and hidden movement works. It’s a game that is part psychology and prediction and part mechanical execution, making it a much more human experience. This is not a game experience an AI will ever replicate because a huge chunk of the experience is trying to outguess and out-think your opponent in a more general rather than mechanical way. What I mean by that is if you could see the movement of your opponent, you would win 100% of the time regardless of which side you’re on. This is not a game that comes down to dice or position, it comes down to predicting what your opponents will do and responding to those actions. Do it right and you WILL win.

As such it’s then also a game about trying to get your opponent to guess wrong and cleverly trapping them into believing you’re going to do one thing, while you do something completely different. Like real war, its all about intelligence and counter-intelligence, the more you know the more successful you will be.

I love this game above all others, it’s not only a fantastic game, but its actually an amazing interactive experience. It’s one of those games where you will spend as much time looking at the board as you will looking into the eyes of your opponent to try to guess what they are thinking.

Love, definitely deserves to be on this list!

Warhammer 40k

I have to admit, it pains me to put this one on this list because frankly, I don’t think it’s that good of a game mechanically. I say that while in the same breath, having to admit that I love playing it, I love building models and painting them and it’s one of the few games in my collection that sit in a display case with pride.

Warhammer 40k is not just a lifestyle game, it is a self-contained lifestyle hobby and while it’s stupidly expensive and there are far better miniature games out there, not to mention far better ways to spend your money, my life would simply feel incomplete without Warhammer 40k on the agenda at certain intervals.

I don’t play it nearly enough, it sort of comes in spurts of enthusiasm, but I do spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about it, planning for games, painting, and fiddling with it. It’s just something that you are drawn to as a gamer and it’s perfect for people who enjoy a solo hobby that is also occasionally a game you can play with someone. A game that is mostly a creative endeavor that doubles as a social activity and to some extent is also an actual game.

This list would be incomplete without Warhammer 40k on it and while there are many other miniature games out there, I find I don’t obsess over them in quite the same way. It is worth saying as well that 10th edition of Warhammer 40k is a much better game than previous editions were and there is a clear move towards a more streamlined and accessible experience with each new edition.

What else can one say, 40k is an addiction for many gamers, myself included and there has to be a reason for it. Tyranids for life!

Star Wars Unlimited

It’s not the only collectible card game that I’m going to put on this list but it certainly is the latest and greatest and to some extent at least, this game is shaping up to be the first real contender to face off against Magic The Gathering. Now, I will say that it’s a long way off before it reaches that goal, after all, Magic: The Gathering is a game that has been in constant development for decades, so the library of cards and, as a result, deck building possibilities is nearly limitless. That said, I think Magic: The Gathering has a lot of core mechanical legacy issues that will never be fixed that Star Wars Unlimited addressed on day one, so in a sense, it’s a CCG that has been greatly influenced and learned from the grandaddy (MTG) of CCG’s, yet maintains that robust, high level addictive replayability that MTG is famous for.

To understand why this game is shaping up to be a lifestyle game and not just another soon-to-be-extinct CCG you have to understand the three core design elements that make this a true competitor to MTG.

The first is mana management (aka card playing resource). Star Wars Unlimited uses a fixed rather than random “mana” for the lack of a better word system, unlike MTG’s “land” system. This means that there is a real competitive consistency to the game, you are going to get mana always and at certain intervals and while there is ramping up cards, there is a kind of control here. You are not going to lose X amount of games simply because you got unlucky and drew too much land or not enough, a problem that has always existed in MTG and essentially makes both deck building and competitive play an often frustrating experience.

The second is set mechanic control. One of the big issues with MTG is that there are countless broken combos that are born from set mechanics that all interact with each other, creating this crazy situation where you can do unlimited damage on round one, or spawn unlimited creatures and all other manner of game-breaking combos.

In Star Wars Unlimited each set introduces two new, self-contained mechanics that don’t really interact with mechanics from other sets so there is this fixed stability in the game and this effectively eliminates game-breaking combos. Not to be confused with cards and effects on a single card that can be too much, this still happens, but at least there aren’t these accidental introductions of broken game mechanics that can and often do ruin CCG fun time.

Finally it is the Star Wars universe, and say what you will about Disney’s trouble with managing the franchise, people still do and probably always will love the Star Wars universe. It’s a franchise that is older and far more known than the MTG universe, and there is a certain attachment and fundamental connection players have to the game. This is a game where each card you draw is clearly tied to some person, thing or moment in the Star Wars universe and there is this “feel good” story element in cards rolling out on the table. It’s also notable that FFG has gone to great lengths to make sure card combos are related narratively, with classics like Han shooting first and power levels like the Emperor and Darth Vader fitting to the thematic cores of the story upon which the game is based.

This is a fabulous game with tremendous replayability, it very quickly became a “standard thing” in my gaming life, and I foresee it having tremendous longevity where my collection will just grow infinitely. Thanks to the game’s great stability and FFG’s attention to detail, at least right now, the game is on a fantastic path with a bright future ahead of it.

Lord of the Rings The Card Game

I’m almost tired of hearing myself talk about this game so I’m going to make it short and sweet. This solo/cooperative living card game by FFG is the single, best card game I have ever played.

It’s very challenging, easy to learn, impossible to master, diverse and dynamic and has been supported by FFG for over a decade, now in its second edition which is exactly the same as 1st edition just repacked. It was so good the first time around, they saw no reason to change it, that, is the sign of a brilliant design, when no one can think of a way to improve it.

This is my favorite lifestyle game. I have been playing it since it was released, and I simply never tire of it.

Games That Don’t Make it but tried

There are a few games that really desperately want to make it into the lifestyle category but there is some flaw/reason that prevents it from succeeding. I mention them here only because they are great games, but this tragic flaw of simultaneously trying to be a lifestyle game, but failing to be one puts them in this odd limbo that results in them missing the table more often than hitting it.

Game Of Thrones: The Board Game

My gaming group and I play this game typically once a year at our big board gaming weekend getaway in the summer ,and frankly, I love this game. It captures the Game of Thrones theme with perfection, its deeply strategic and always tense. It’s got everything you want out of a game fit for a lifestyle spot, but unfortunately, it has one tragic flaw.

When you replay this game a couple of times in a row, clear patterns start to emerge, key plays, strategies and round executions start to repeat. This is a solvable puzzle and while I would argue it has sufficient dynamics to keep a yearly game exciting as everyone essentially forgets everything over that time period, on repeated plays this game really falls apart and you really start to see the design warts. Lord knows there are plenty of them.

I discovered this kind of by accident by playing the digital version on Steam for a couple of weeks back to back. After a few games, it all started to look like the same game over and over again.

Game of Thrones The Board game just lacks the stamina and the diversity and dynamics needed to qualify it as a lifestyle game, there just isn’t so much to discover and unravel here. Once you get the core nuances there are just so many “moves” you must make and reactions just become kind of predictable.

It’s a very long game, however, so it’s not really a good fit for a typical board game night, relegating this one to a once-in-a-long-while event game. I love it,4 but it just doesn’t stick to the landing as a lifestyle game.

Star Wars Armada

I’m a huge fan of Star Wars Armada, I think the concept of capital ship combat in the Star Wars universe is brilliant, and I love the unique movement mechanics and the amazing diversity of ships and upgrades, perfect for those of us who love list building.

Unfortunately, it falters in two main categories that knock it out of contention as a lifestyle game.

First and this one is kind of obvious, a miniature war game that has no hobby element, means that the only thing to do with your minis is keep them on a shelf until you are ready to play. There is no hobby here outside of the game which in general is kind of the main thing about miniature gaming, that personal touch and obsession of building and painting “your” army. Sure you can do some repaints, but there are only so many interesting takes on “grey spaceships”. I will say that there are benefits to this drawback for those of you out there who want to play a miniature game but don’t want to deal with the hobby.

The second issue and far more important is what I call the “default winner” effect. Basically most games of Star Wars Armada assuming a reasonably equal level of understanding and skill level in the game can be called with near-perfect precision based on list building and initial deployment.

This is a very decisive game and the battle outcomes really don’t surprise you, in fact, most of my friends got so good at this that we can look at two lists and tell you who is going to win with 99% accuracy. There just isn’t enough in the mechanics of the game to wildly alter the outcomes and while two players with wildly different skill sets can certainly create surprise outcomes, in our group, everyone was pretty expert at the game so it just became far too predictable.

This one hung out for quite a while until we all made this discovery and we all enjoyed it but these days it doesn’t take more than a match to remind all of us while we no longer play this game with any regularity.

It just lacks sufficient dynamics to be a lifestyle game.

Eclipse: The Second Dawn For the Galaxy

I was really excited for the second edition of this game, it really promised a lot and at first it seemed like it would deliver, but even as it sits near the top of my list, I can tell you hear and now that it’s rise on the list will be as rapid as its climb. In fact, right now, I would say it doesn’t even make the top 20 anymore.

The reason for this sudden shift is the stark realization that the mechanics are just too static and there is virtually no dynamics in the game at all. Initially, you might think with a mixed galaxy, asymmetrical races and dice for resolving combat that there would be plenty of ways games diverge into unique experiences, but the reality is that the mechanics are so tightly wound that in effect, every game of Eclipse is essentially a parallel version of every other game of it played.

Worse yet is most of the activity of the players is mostly irrelevant, the only thing that matters is scoring points and the board state really has minimal impact on that. It’s just like any other standard Euro fair, figure out how to build a good engine and then just let it spin.

This is a fine way to play a game and I love engine-building games, but Eclipse was not supposed to be that. It was supposed to be a faster, more streamlined 4x game that could compete with Twilight Imperium and it was definitely my hope that it could be the next big lifestyle game.

The aesthetic is there, all the pieces are there but the game just doesn’t come together to create a repeatable experience. It’s a bit like playing checkers, after a while you can’t remember one game from the other, sure outcomes differ, its not like the game is unbalanced or anything but its just a very bland game full of routine and default (many choices but one obviously good one) kind of a game.

After 3-4 plays of this gam,e I’m fairly sure it’s going to collect dust on my shelf for a very long time, in fact, I may even cull it from my collection, it was that much of a disappointment in the end.

Mage Knight The Board Game

There are many adventure games out there and over the years, I have found plenty of them I don’t like, but Mage Knight is a unique exception for me and there is very good reason for it. It, unlike most adventure games, doesn’t try to replicate the role-playing experience and actually focuses on bringing quality game mechanics with excellent card management and card play, clever and difficult scenarios designed to actually defeat you and outstanding expansions that lean on the games existing strength, rather then just giving you more of the same. In a word, its a “real” game, rather than what you get with most adventure games, which is a sort of quasi role-playing activity.

This is a massive game, Mage Knight doesn’t really hold your hand and as such is had a considerable learning curve, a long play time and is in a word infinitely replayable; all qualities that fit well with a lifestyle game, there is plenty to explore.

With everything going for it, it still manages to fall short of a lifestyle game. Mainly I think because it’s one of those games that once you learn the nuances of each of the characters, that mastery leads you down a road of automatic moves that are sort of preordained. It’s a bit like figuring out the patterns in Pac Man, once you know them you end up playing the game the exact same way each time you pick it up.

The different scenarios while interesting and fun in their own right, really do not alter the approach you will take. There are just some clear builds you discover and after that the game becomes quite repetitive despite its generally very dynamic game state.

This means there is a kind of cap on the game as a lifestyle game, play it enough times and it runs out of fuel.

Its a fantastic game and I would never suggest that its not, but life style games need this sort of infinitate discovery element where no matter how many times you play it, there is always more to discover, new strategies, approaches and puzzles to solve. This game is just limited in that department, once you discover its patterns and secrets, it goes stale quite quickly.

Through The Ages

This is a bit of a heart breaker for me personally as Through The Ages is without question one of my favorite games of all time, sitting pretty in the number 9 spot on my top 20 list and having been on my best of list since the first time I played it almost years ago.

This is one of the best civilization building games I know, its highly competative, deeply strategic and overwhelming diverse. In many ways it is a great lifestyle game but it has one key caveat that really sort of disqualifies it.

The main issue is that if you play it enough, patterns emerge and those patterns lead you down very specific highly effective playstyles that essentially disqualify all others, really answering the question “What is the best strategy” with a definitive answer.

A good lifestyle game is an unsolvable puzzle, or at least one that you must solve in a unique way each time you play and unfortunately, Through The Ages for all its depth and meaningful gameplay, has tricks and “must do’s” that really kill its lifestyle game potential.

It’s a fantastic game, I play it every chance I get, but the only way your going to beat me is if I explain the core “answers” to you, at which point the game becomes a tight and interesting “lets see what happens” sort of thing, but there is absolutely no way you can beat me at the game otherwise. I’m not going to bore anyone with the answer here, in fact, its kind of a spoiler as it will take you many plays to figure it out, but eventually, if you play it long enough you will unravel the mystery of Through The Ages. At which point it’s a bit like watching Harry Potter, knowing full well how it will end. Still fun, but there aren’t going to be any twist endings.