Tag Archives: Euro Games

Top 10 Boardgames for Two Players

Two-player board games have always held a special place in my collection. Partly because they’re simply easier to get to the table, but mostly because the experience feels far more personal. It’s just you and one other player, matching wits across the table without the downtime, debates, or scheduling headaches that often come with larger groups.

There’s also something wonderfully simple about choosing what to play. When only one other person’s preferences matter, finding the right game becomes a whole lot easier.

When I first sat down to write this list, though, I quickly ran into a problem. What exactly is the “best” two-player game?

Is it an epic historical war game? A fast card game? A thinky Euro? A cooperative puzzle? A tactical skirmish? Comparing those games directly felt a bit like arguing whether a Formula One car is better than a mountain bike. They’re built to do completely different things; it was awkward, simply didn’t make sense to me to have one list that jams everything into one place.

So rather than force them into one giant, slightly ridiculous ranking, I decided to organize this list by category.

For each category, I’ll crown my favorite game while also giving you two runner-ups. That way, instead of recommending just ten games, I can introduce you to thirty outstanding two-player experiences, each suited to a different mood, partner, or evening around the table. Hopefully that will be a lot more useful.

Whether you’re looking for a deep strategic duel, a relaxing cooperative adventure, or something you can teach in five minutes, there should be something here for you.

Let’s get to it.

1. Best Casual or Family Game

This is probably the category most hobby gamers find themselves reaching for.

Most of us gamer-gamers own shelves full of heavy Euros, sprawling campaign games, and intricate strategy titles, but the reality is that most people we invite over aren’t hobby gamers. They’re friends, family, neighbours, or colleagues who simply want to sit down and have a good time.

That means the game has to be welcoming and easy to get into.

For me, a great casual two-player game isn’t just easy to learn, it has to be intuitive. A new player should be able to rely on common sense rather than previous experience and still feel like they have a genuine chance of winning. If knowing the deck by heart or memorising opening strategies gives the experienced player an overwhelming advantage, then I don’t think it belongs in this category.

The best family games create close contests regardless of who’s sitting across the table. They let newcomers make sensible decisions, reward good instincts, and leave everyone feeling like they were competitive right until the final score.

Those are exactly the kinds of games I was looking for here.

3. Starship Catan
I have had Starship Catan in my collection for over two decades, and it still see’s play often enough that I just can’t ever see myself getting rid of it.

Poor Starship Catan has largely disappeared into history, overshadowed by the seemingly endless stream of Catan spin-offs that followed. That’s a shame, because in my opinion, it’s still the best two-player Catan game Klaus Teuber ever designed.

It takes the familiar Catan formula and strips away much of the randomness that people often criticize in the original, replacing it with a game that rewards clever planning without ever becoming intimidating. It’s one of those rare games that’s genuinely easy to teach, yet still offers enough meaningful decisions to keep experienced players engaged.

The presentation has aged remarkably well, too. The artwork has that wonderfully optimistic early-2000s science-fiction charm, the production is clean without being cluttered, and the gameplay strikes a lovely balance between competition and accessibility. You’re racing your opponent rather than constantly attacking them, which makes it an excellent choice for playing with spouses, family members, or friends who aren’t looking for a cutthroat experience.

Starship Catan is a pretty game, even by today’s standards, I think, thanks largely to Franz Vohwinkel, an artist whose work you have seen more times than you probably realize because he’s just about everywhere you look.

What really earns Starship Catan its place on this list, though, is how naturally people seem to understand it.

Like the original Catan, it rewards instincts that almost everyone already possesses. You don’t need years of hobby gaming experience or dozens of previous plays to feel competitive. Once the rules are explained, most players immediately understand what they’re trying to accomplish and can start making sensible decisions from the very first turn.

That’s exactly what I look for in a great casual two-player game.

And perhaps the biggest compliment I can give it is this: almost everyone I’ve introduced it to has immediately asked for another game. Twenty-five years after its release, that’s still a pretty impressive achievement that I can say about very few games in my collection.

2. The Duke
The Duke probably belongs in the abstract category, but this game is so approachable and will be so familiar to your casual observer that I had to add it here.

Another older game makes the list, but one that’s still brilliantly clever.

The Duke is often described as chess with a twist. Each player controls a small army of tiles that show their movement directly on the piece. Every time you move one, you flip it over, changing how it moves next turn. The goal is simple: capture your opponent’s Duke (king) piece.

There is a wide range of pieces that do all sorts of clever things, and in that respect it can feel like a far more robust game to onlookers, but you have very few pieces on the board at any given time, so the analysis here is not nearly as broad.

The rules can be taught in minutes, but the strategy runs surprisingly deep. Because most people already understand the basics of chess or checkers, new players immediately feel comfortable and start developing their own tactics from the very first game.

It’s also wonderfully compact, making it an ideal travel game, and most matches are finished in around 15–20 minutes.

Experience certainly helps here, but unlike chess, the learning curve is much shorter. After just a handful of games, new players will already have formed their own strategies and can put up a very respectable fight.

For me, it’s one of the smartest abstract games ever made, and one that deserves far more attention than it gets.

1. Patchwork

One of the easiest games to recommend to everyone, it’s a universal kind of fun.

I don’t imagine this pick will surprise many hobbyists. Patchwork has become the gold standard for introducing people to modern two-player board games, and I think it has earned that reputation for good reason.

The concept is wonderfully simple. You’re building a patchwork quilt by selecting oddly shaped tiles, trying to cover as much of your board as possible while managing your buttons (victory points) and time. The rules can be explained in five minutes, yet every turn presents an interesting little puzzle.

What makes Patchwork so perfect for this category is that success isn’t really based on experience with the game. Instead, it rewards spatial reasoning and problem-solving skills that everyone naturally brings to the table. A veteran may recognize a few patterns, but a first-time player can absolutely outplay an experienced one simply by solving the puzzle better.

I like to describe this game as “Tetris” like, something very easy for everyone to relate to.

Fast, approachable, endlessly replayable, and satisfying every single time, Patchwork remains my go-to recommendation whenever someone asks me for the perfect casual two-player game.

2. Best Hobbyiest Strategy Game

Not every board gamer is a hardcore strategist, but most hobbyists are willing to try just about anything. We bounce between Euros, area control, deck builders, cooperative games, abstracts, you name it. That doesn’t mean every strategy game is going to appeal to everyone, though.

For this category, I wanted games that I think almost any hobby gamer would enjoy, regardless of their particular tastes, simply because of the excellent and inspired game mechanics. These are the games I’d happily recommend to someone with a reasonably established collection because they’re simply excellent designs with broad appeal.

They’re a step up from the family games in the previous category in terms of complexity and challenge. The rules are a little (sometimes a lot) more involved, the decisions a little deeper, and you’ll probably be setting aside the whole evening rather than squeezing in a quick game after dinner. They will also require multiple plays to really get good at them, so they are specifically designed for people who are going to get together more than once.

Think of these as the modern strategy staples of two-player gaming. If you’re serious about the hobby, these are games you should probably experience at least once. As I have many other categories on this list, I have excluded games that I think fit into a tighter, more specific niche.

3. Through The Ages: A New Story of Civilization
Through The Ages is a versatile game that shows up on many of my best-of lists, including best of all time. It is, to me, among the best games the hobby has to offer.

This is definitely one of the heavier games on the list, and while it technically supports up to four players, I firmly believe it’s at its absolute best with two, though an argument can be made for three. With four players, this game really stretches the definition of board game night; it’s just too long.

Through the Ages is a civilization-building game where you’ll guide your nation from antiquity into the modern era, balancing military, culture, science, economy, and politics in a constant struggle to outscore your opponent. There’s an incredible amount of depth here, and it’s the sort of game that demands repeated plays before you truly appreciate all of its nuances.

Through the Ages is a card-driven game, but it’s not a card game. It’s probably closer to an action selection and resource management game; the cards are really a support mechanism.

What keeps me coming back is how dynamic every game feels. Despite its complexity, it never settles into routine. Every civilization develops differently, every draft presents new opportunities, and every opponent forces you to rethink your strategy.

It’s long, competitive, and occasionally downright ruthless, but if you’re looking for a two-player strategy game you can really sink your teeth into with a lot of replayability, Through the Ages is one of the very best in class.

2. The White Castle
White Castle is the new kid on the block, but I’m obsessed; it’s a contender for a 5 out of 5 review, which would make it only the second game to achieve this on gamersdungeon.net in 12 years as of this writing. It’s that good.

The White Castle is one of my favourite discoveries of the past year. While it’s excellent with three or four players, I actually think it’s a fantastic two-player strategy game as well.

This is an incredibly tight Euro where every decision matters. With only 9 (With base game) to 12 (with Matcha expansion) actions over the course of the game, every move feels significant, forcing you to squeeze every possible point out of your strategy. Despite that limited action count, the number of viable approaches is remarkable, making each game feel fresh and rewarding.

I also highly recommend the Matcha expansion. It adds another layer of strategic depth without increasing the rules overhead, making an already brilliant game even better.

The Matcha expansion adds an extra dice bridge and an additional action per turn, while also giving the game tremendous added depth. It’s one of those situations where the game is amazing without an expansion, but doubles down on the goodness with one.

Elegant, challenging, and endlessly satisfying, The White Castle is the kind of game hobbyists can happily play over and over while continuing to discover new strategies. It’s an exceptional design and an easy recommendation for anyone who enjoys deep, thoughtful Euros.

There is a The White Castle: Duel variant that’s designed for two players, but despite the good effort with that one, I still think the multiplayer version is superior as a two-player experience.

1. Star Wars: Rebellion

I know that not “everyone” is a Star Wars fan, but that is a tough pill to swallow for a guy like me who quite literally named his son Luke because of the original trilogy. Saying you’re not a Star Wars fan makes you, at the very least, a suspect individual!

This might seem like an unusual winner because it’s so heavily tied to its theme, in fact, had I not put it here, it would go into the Best Theme category for sure. That said, I get it, if you have absolutely no interest in Star Wars, then one of the other games in this category is probably a better fit.

That said, I’ve always found there’s a huge overlap between board gamers and nerd culture, and Star Wars sits comfortably at the centre of that Venn diagram. So I’m fairly confident this recommendation will resonate with a lot, if not most, people.

The reason Star Wars: Rebellion tops this category is that it succeeds on two fronts.

First, it’s simply an outstanding strategy game. Every session is packed with bluffing, long-term planning, military campaigns, political maneuvering, and difficult decisions. Both factions play completely differently, giving the game incredible replayability and making every match feel like a battle of wits, while remaining a reasonably approachable game.

Everything about Star Wars Rebellion reinforces Star Wars fandom; there is no question that Corey Konieczka is a huge fan; he would not have been able to create this game otherwise.

Second, and this is what elevates it above almost every licensed game ever made, it absolutely nails the theme.

Rebellion doesn’t just use Star Wars artwork; it lets you play the original trilogy. Every objective, every desperate Rebel mission, every Imperial search for the hidden base, and every dramatic space battle feels like it belongs in the films. The connection between the mechanics and the theme is about as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen.

If you’re a Star Wars fan, I honestly think this is a must-own game.

And if you’re not…Well, there’s a decent chance this game might make you one.

3. Best Historical Duel

Historical games, and historical war games in particular, are one of my favourite genres, which made this category surprisingly difficult. Narrowing the list down to just three games was no easy task.

There is one important caveat, though.

I’m not recommending games for experienced historical war gamers. That would be an entirely different list. Instead, I wanted to highlight games that I think any hobby gamer with an interest in history could comfortably dive into without spending six months learning hex-and-counter warfare.

To illustrate what I mean, I firmly believe Empire of the Sun is the greatest two-player historical war game ever designed.

There is no question that Empire Of The Sun is the best historical war game ever made, but to suggest it to anyone but the most dedicated historical war gamer would be madness.

It’s also one of the most complex board games I’ve ever played.

Even seasoned wargamers treat it with a healthy amount of respect, so recommending it to someone who’s merely curious about the genre would be doing them a disservice.

With that in mind, these are the historical duels I’d recommend first. They still deliver the tension, drama, and fascinating decision-making that make historical games so rewarding, but they’re approachable enough that a hobby gamer can jump in without feeling completely overwhelmed.

That’s exactly what this category is about.

3. Twilight Struggle
A classic is a classic for a reason; resistance is futile!

Despite one significant caveat, I think Twilight Struggle remains one of the best entry points into historical war gaming.

That caveat is the learning curve, not so much learning how to play but learning to play reasonably well. This isn’t a game you’re likely to become competitive at after a single play. Deck knowledge is absolutely critical, and it will probably take four or five games before you really begin to understand the subtle timing, strategic positioning, and difficult decisions the game throws at you. Until then, you’re going to get crushed by someone who has played before, and it’s going to happen fast.

Once it clicks, though, it’s exceptional.

Set during the Cold War, Twilight Struggle brilliantly recreates the political tension of the era through card play, influence, and global maneuvering. From the Space Race to proxy wars and diplomatic crises, the historical events feel naturally woven into the gameplay rather than simply pasted on as flavour.

Historical games are about history, so if a particular piece of history doesn’t interest you, a game based on it probably won’t change your mind. This is a great game, but like all historical games, you need to have at least a passing interest in the topic, and admittedly, The Cold War can be a bit dry for some.

It’s a wonderfully tense, deeply strategic design that rewards repeated play without ever feeling repetitive.

More importantly, it also helped popularize one of my favourite genres in board gaming: the card-driven influence control genre.

As it happens… that genre gets its very own category later on this list.

2. Sekigahara: The Unification Of Japan
Block games can be traced all the way back to pre-modern era gaming; In fact, you could argue the first board games ever made were block games like Senet. They are a rather classic format, but the concept is very simple. Block games tend to be relatively light historical war games in general.

I’m a sucker for two things: Japanese history and card-driven games, so Sekigahara was always going to have an uphill battle trying not to impress me.

This brilliant block wargame recreates the struggle to unify Japan using hidden wooden blocks, so you always know your own army but never quite what your opponent has assembled. Think Stratego, but with far more meaningful strategic decisions.

Stratego is a very simple take on the typical historical block game, but it’s a game most of us are at least familiar with in passing, as it’s been on store shelves since the 1940’s. It is, however, very one-dimensional; most block games, including Sekigahara, include elements like supply lines, terrain, and strongholds.

What I love most is that it delivers everything I want from a historical wargame without the intimidating complexity the genre is often known for. There are plenty of deep strategic decisions to explore, but the objective is always clear. You know what you’re trying to achieve; the challenge is figuring out how to do it with incomplete information and a hand of cards that never quite cooperates.

That uncertainty creates constant tension. Every battle is a calculated gamble, every move a bluff, and every commitment of troops carries real consequences.

One thing I really love about this game is that it really rewards repeated plays with the same opponent. Players will come up with gambits and strategies that work, then on the next game when they try the same thing, your opponent will be ready for you. There is a sort of evolution that takes place the more you play with the same person.

It’s certainly a confrontational game, so both players need to enjoy going head-to-head, but if they do, Sekigahara is one of the finest battles of wits I can think of.

1. Tide Of Iron

Historical war games come in many forms, but tactical war games tend to be something historical war gamers are particularly passionate about. You will often see historical war gamers argue about what qualifies and doesn’t qualify as a proper historical war game, even in cases like Tide of Iron, some may not agree that it’s sufficiently “historical”. Ignore nonsense like that; it’s a rabbit hole of stupidity.

It just wouldn’t feel right to have a historical gaming category without World War II making an appearance.

For me, Tide of Iron is the gold standard for introducing players to historical wargaming. It strikes an almost perfect balance between authenticity and accessibility, delivering enough tactical depth and historical flavour to satisfy seasoned wargamers while remaining approachable for hobby gamers taking their first steps into the genre.

That’s an incredibly difficult balance to achieve. Historical accuracy and detailed simulation usually come hand in hand with intimidating rulebooks, but Tide of Iron manages to capture the feel of battlefield tactics without burying players in complexity.

It’s also a fantastic production. The modular maps, miniatures, varied scenarios, and customizable forces make every battle feel different, while just enough dice-driven uncertainty reminds you that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy. There is no better way to get someone to try this one than to simply show them what it looks like; the game sells itself.

Tide of Irons is a tactical game on the squad level, hailing from the big box era at Fantasy Flight Games. There are a lot of ways to expand your experience, including entire campaign books and expansions as well as many built-in variants for deeper immersion. If you enjoy the game, there is a tremendous amount of exploration available.

Most importantly, though…It’s simply a tremendous amount of fun.

The scenarios are varied, the tactical decisions are meaningful, and the game scales nicely for players of different experience levels. Whether you’re a history buff or someone who’s simply curious about the genre, Tide of Iron is the game I’d put on the table first.

It’s not just a great historical wargame. It’s a great board game, full stop.

4. Best Heavy Euro

For many board gamers, heavy Euros are something of a graduation ceremony. They’re not the games I recommend to someone who’s just discovered the hobby, but sooner or later most hobbyists become curious about what all the fuss is about. That’s usually the point where they take the plunge into heavier strategy games.

These are games that demand your attention. They’re longer, more complex, and packed with meaningful decisions. They often require several plays before you really understand what you’re doing, and a single game can easily occupy an entire evening.

The investment, however, is almost always worth it.

To me, heavy Euros represent some of the finest strategy game design our hobby has to offer. They’re intricate puzzles built around careful planning, efficient resource management, engine building, and long-term strategy. Luck usually takes a back seat, leaving success largely in the hands of the players.

They’re certainly not for everyone, but if you’re ready to dive into the deep end of board gaming, these are some of the very best places to start.

3. A Feast For Odin
This is a pretty complex game with tons of game critical decisions; it’s going to take many plays to get your head around the strategies involved.

While A Feast for Odin shines with three or four players, I actually think it’s just as enjoyable with two, making it an easy choice for this list.

This is the kind of game that feels like the culmination of everything you’ve learned from lighter Euros. Worker placement, resource management, engine building, and the wonderfully satisfying polyomino puzzle of filling your personal board all come together in one enormous Viking adventure.

It’s undeniably a heavy game, but I don’t think it’s overwhelming. The complexity comes from the sheer number of systems working together, rather than any individual rule being particularly difficult. If you’ve played a variety of lighter strategy games before, you’ll recognize many of the mechanics; they’re simply woven together into something much grander.

The amount of “stuff you can do” in this game is so broad that you may very well play the game half a dozen times and never take certain actions available to you.

Yes, it’s a little fiddly, and yes, it asks a lot of its players, but the payoff is immense. Few games offer this much strategic freedom while remaining so consistently rewarding to explore.

It’s a wonderful, thoroughly satisfying, albeit exhausting gaming experience.

2. Tapestry
The lovely thing about Tapestry is that the rules themselves are relatively simple, yet the amount of depth in this game- the sheer volume of possible strategies can be quite overwhelming. It’s a deep well, one I think is worth exploring for any serious gamer.

I should start by saying that I think Tapestry is at its absolute best with three players. That said, the two-player game is excellent and, perhaps more importantly, much faster. It feels less like a territorial struggle and more like a race to build the most efficient civilization.

What makes Tapestry such a great heavy Euro is that the strategic depth far outweighs the rules complexity. The rulebook is surprisingly approachable, yet the game offers an enormous amount of long-term planning, resource optimization, and engine building, not to mention dynamics. It’s an ideal stepping stone for players looking to move into heavier strategy games without first having to learn a hundred pages of rules.

A big part of the game is the ability to anticipate your opponents’ strategies and plan your own, while making sure you’re getting under your opponents’ feet now and then to slow them down. There is a bit of a give and take here that I really like, and this is a lot easier to do when playing Tapestry with two players. The more players you add, the more complex this games strategy becomes.

Experience definitely matters, though. Your scores will improve dramatically as you learn the game, which means newcomers can feel outmatched during their first few plays. Fortunately, almost all of the information is open, making it easy for experienced players to offer advice without spoiling the experience.

Deep, elegant, and remarkably accessible for its weight, Tapestry remains one of my favourite introductions to heavier Euro gaming.

1. Marco Polo II: In The Service Of The Khan

This is a heavy Euro that I think a lot of people passed on mainly because of the subject matter, but I personally think it’s one of the true standouts in the heavy Euro category.

Now we’re talking about serious Euro gaming.

Marco Polo II: In the Service of the Khan is one of the finest economic strategy games I’ve ever played. Building on the award-winning The Voyages of Marco Polo, it expands the original with more strategic variety, greater flexibility, and a simply fantastic production. I genuinely love both games, but if I had to choose one, Marco Polo II gets the nod.

This is one of those rare games that, while you can play it with up to 4 players, is absolutely best as a duel. In fact, I would argue against playing it any other way.

While the game uses dice, don’t let that fool you into thinking luck dominates the experience. Like The Castles of Burgundy or Catan, the dice create interesting constraints rather than determine the winner. The real challenge is adapting your strategy and making the most of the opportunities you’re given.

There is a lot going on in this game, and the fact that it uses dice does give it that “luck” element that I don’t think everyone will appreciate. That said, you’re not going to win this game because you got lucky with the dice; far from it. The dice are just a factor to contend with in the same way Castles of Burgundy, for example, uses dice.

What I admire most, however, is how competitive the game remains regardless of experience. A veteran will usually make better decisions, but new players rarely feel completely outclassed. Scores stay surprisingly close, and every game feels like a genuine contest rather than a lesson in how much more experienced someone else is.

It’s a wonderfully rich strategy game with enormous replayability, and despite being one of the very best heavy Euros I’ve played, I still think it’s criminally underrated on BoardGameGeek. If you’re ready to dive into the deep end of Euro gaming, I wouldn’t necessarily start here, but you definitely want to end up here at some point.

5. Best Themed Games

One of the greatest strengths of board games is something no other medium can quite replicate: the connection between theme and mechanics. A good board game doesn’t just tell you a story, it makes you live it through the decisions you make.

Most hobby gamers would probably agree that theme alone can’t save a bad game. We’ve all played beautifully produced games with incredible artwork that turned out to be mechanically dull. Equally, we’ve played brilliant abstract designs wrapped in themes so forgettable they could have been about almost anything.

The magic happens when the two come together.

When every mechanic reinforces the theme, every decision feels natural, and you stop thinking about rules and simply start playing the role the game asks of you. That’s when good games become great ones.

The following three games all achieve that in spectacular fashion. They don’t just have great themes; they make you feel like you’re living them.

3. Fury Of Dracula
I will grant you that Fury of Dracula is niche, but the connection between theme and mechanics is so strong and so much fun, it’s not going to be a problem for anyone.

Although Fury of Dracula is designed as a one-versus-many game, I honestly think the very best way to experience it is as a two-player duel.

At its heart, this is a wonderfully atmospheric game of cat and mouse. One player controls Dracula as he secretly moves across Europe, leaving a trail of clues behind, while the other commands the famous vampire hunters in a desperate race to track him down before it’s too late. The day-and-night cycle, hidden movement, and constant sense of uncertainty create a level of tension that very few board games can match.

What I love most is how perfectly the mechanics reinforce the theme. Every clue feels significant, every wrong turn feels costly, and every encounter with Dracula becomes a memorable story in its own right.

The thing with Fury of Dracula, that “niche” part, is that you really want someone who knows how to play Dracula really well. The difficulty is sort of set by that player. A poor performance by Dracula can make it feel flat and disappointing. When Dracula is executed well, however, it’s just a box of fun.

I enjoy the multiplayer version, but I find the constant table discussion often gives away too much information to the Dracula player and introduces long stretches of downtime for the vampire hunters. This dulls down the game and results in a lot of the tension escaping through the cracks. In a two-player game, every decision is immediate, every bluff matters, and the psychological battle between hunter and hunted takes centre stage.

It’s tense, cinematic, endlessly replayable, and one of the finest examples of theme and mechanics working together.

I absolutely adore this game. It does not get to the table often enough.

2. Star Trek Fleet Captains
Star Trek Fleet Captains, for fans of Star Trek, would make this my number one pick without any question. When it comes to picking the best themed game, I effectively picked War of the Rings because I’m a Middle-earth fan first, a Star Trek fan second.

Trekkies are a unique breed of nerd. More than any other fanbase I know, they care about the details, the nuance of the shows and movies. Get those wrong, and they’ll let you know about it.

Star Trek has been adapted into dozens of board games over the years, and if I’m being honest, most of them have ranged from forgettable to downright awful.

Star Trek: Fleet Captains is the exception.

Rather than simply wrapping Star Trek artwork around generic mechanics or trying to squeeze the theme into some adaptation of another game, it is designed from the ground up and captures what Star Trek is actually about. Exploration, diplomacy, scientific discovery, dangerous away missions, impossible decisions, and yes, the occasional spectacular space battle. It understands that combat is only one part of the Star Trek experience, that science and utopian philosophy are the main characters.

Normally, when a game uses stock images, especially in franchise games, I consider it a red flag, a short cut indicitive of what the rest of the game will be like, but in Star Trek Fleet Captains, the characters are the stars of the show, and they are so iconic, so memorable, that I think it just works. It’s not a shortcut so much as a bit part of getting you in the mood.

Every ship, captain, and mission feels like it belongs in the universe, and the two expansions only deepen that experience without losing what made the base game special.

If you’re a Star Trek fan, this is THE board game to own.

And while it supports more players, I honestly think it’s at its absolute best as a two-player duel.

1. War Of The Ring

War Of The Ring is so thematic, it borders on an activity more than a game. You are literally rewriting the Trilogy as you play, making your own decisions, your own story branches, and yet it all culminates in everything wonderful you expect from the Lord of the Rings story. I love this game.

War of the Ring is to Lord of the Rings what Star Trek Fleet Captains is to Star Trek. Same boat, different franchise.

This magnificent asymmetrical strategy game doesn’t simply retell Tolkien’s story, it lets you live it. One player commands the Free Peoples, desperately trying to buy enough time for the Fellowship to reach Mount Doom, while the other unleashes the overwhelming military might of Sauron. Every decision reinforces the central theme of the books: hope triumphing against impossible odds.

It’s a complex game, and I’ll happily admit that the rulebook can be intimidating. But there comes a point where flawless execution outweighs complexity, and War of the Ring crosses that line with ease.

I could write an entire thesis on why this game is so amazing, but all you really need to know is that it just bleeds Lord of the Rings from every orifice, and this is more than enough to satisfy a Lord of the Rings fan. It’s Lord of the Rings, in a box.

This isn’t just another licensed game. It’s an experience.

For many fans, it’s practically a hobby in its own right, offering endless opportunities to relive, or rewrite, one of the greatest fantasy stories ever told.

If you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, I honestly can’t recommend a better board game. Accept no substitutes.

6. Best Card-Driven Influence Control

I know this is a strangely specific category. Two things.

First, this is my favourite genre in all of board gaming, so my list, my rules. Indulge me a little here.

Second, I genuinely think this subgenre deserves the attention. There are at least two dozen outstanding two-player card-driven influence games, and narrowing this list down to just three was harder than picking the winners in several of the previous categories. Honestly, this could have been a Top 10 list all by itself.

The genre works so well with two players because it’s built around history’s great rivalries. Whether it’s the Cold War, ancient empires, political struggles, or ideological conflicts, these games are almost always about two opposing forces trying to outmanoeuvre one another through careful planning, clever card play, and long-term positioning rather than outright military conquest. I’ve already snuck in Twilight Struggle in the Best Historical Duel category.

The three games I’ve chosen here represent what I consider the very best the genre has to offer.

That said, they vary enormously in complexity. Some are approachable enough for newcomers, while others demand repeated plays before they truly reveal their brilliance. So while I have a clear winner, the best game for you will depend entirely on how deep you want to dive.

If this genre appeals to you, I’d encourage you to do a little extra research before buying.

3. Washington’s War
It has the look of a very traditional historical war game, and the assumption might be that it’s going to be very complicated, but nothing could be farther from the truth. This game is very light on rules complexity, though it’s quite deep strategically.

Of the three games in this category, Washington’s War is by far the most approachable, making it an excellent introduction to the card-driven influence genre.

Set during the American War of Independence, one player commands the British Empire while the other leads George Washington’s struggling Continental Army. The conflict is beautifully asymmetrical. The British possess overwhelming military strength, while the Americans must survive long enough to build support and ultimately secure French intervention.

The struggle for control of the thirteen colonies creates a wonderfully tense tug-of-war, with influence, positioning, and timing often proving more important than outright military victories.

What makes Washington’s War so appealing is how streamlined it is. Compared to many games in the genre, the rules are refreshingly clean, the number of special exceptions is kept to a minimum, and the card play remains elegant without sacrificing strategic depth.

It’s no surprise that many historical gamers consider it a modern classic. As a spiritual successor to We the People, it refines many of that game’s ideas into a tighter, more accessible package.

Iconic historical leaders are key to the game; they are the movers and shakers that will decide the fate of the war, and this game respects that historical importance through the rules and impact they have on gameplay.

If you’re curious about card-driven influence games but aren’t ready to tackle the heavier titles, Washington’s War is exactly where I’d recommend you begin.

2. Caesar: Rome vs. Gaul
Another cover that has that “historical War Game” look, but the reality is that this is a game I think anyone can learn; in fact, it’s much simpler to get your head around than more popular variants of this mechanic like Twilight Struggle.

Caesar: Rome vs. Gaul is a deeper and more demanding game than Washington’s War, but I still think it’s remarkably approachable for what it is.

The conflict is wonderfully asymmetrical. Caesar commands the disciplined might of the Roman Empire, while the Gauls are little more than scattered tribes desperately trying to resist one of history’s greatest military commanders. Naturally, that means the pressure is on Rome. The Gauls have the advantage of time, difficult terrain, and a defensive position, while Caesar must execute an efficient campaign before the opportunity slips away.

One of the reasons I enjoy introducing this game to new players is that the roles naturally suit different experience levels. A newcomer can take the Gauls, whose strategy is a little more intuitive, while the experienced player tackles the far more demanding challenge of leading Caesar.

War, or perhaps more specifically combat, is a much bigger part in this game than most card-driven influence control games, and it’s a much better game for it.

Despite being a proper wargame, I don’t think it’s any more difficult to learn than many modern heavy Euros. Most of the mechanics are straightforward, and the cards do a fantastic job of bringing the historical figures and events to life while presenting both players with a fascinating strategic puzzle.

Victory for Rome is genuinely difficult, and that’s exactly what makes playing Caesar so rewarding. It’s a bit lopsided, but that is very specifically why I think this game is so good.

1. Imperial Struggle

Imperial Struggle is a pretty complex and deep game, it does favor experience and can be quite unforgiving, but any mistake you make in this game you won’t repeat. There is a natural strategic learning curve here, and you will quickly get your head around it. Just don’t expect to become an expert right away; this game takes many plays to learn to play well.

There isn’t much debate in my mind.

Imperial Struggle is the finest card-driven influence game ever designed, and one of the greatest board games ever made. It currently sits at #2 on my personal Top 20, and I don’t see it moving any time soon.

Set during the century-long global rivalry between Britain and France, the game isn’t simply about military conquest. You’ll compete for influence through diplomacy, economics, colonial expansion, and, when necessary, outright war. Every decision feels like part of a much larger struggle for control of the world.

What elevates Imperial Struggle above almost everything else in the genre is how seamlessly it blends history with gameplay. The mechanics don’t just represent the conflict, they explain it. Before playing this game, I knew surprisingly little about the historical rivalry between these two empires. After dozens of plays and plenty of reading inspired by the game, I’ve come to appreciate just how brilliantly the designers captured this fascinating period of history.

It’s unquestionably a game for experienced players. I wouldn’t recommend it as your first historical game or even your first card-driven influence game.

But it should absolutely be your destination.

I think most look at this map and find it a bit off-putting, even if they appriciate it’s artistic beauty. All of this stuff after a couple of plays, however, will make sense, and by your second or third game you will be able to access the board state at a glance, and that is very specifically because this map is so well made.

Once you’ve worked your way through the genre and finally arrive at Imperial Struggle, you’ll either understand why so many players consider it the benchmark against which every other card-driven influence game is measured or Twilight Struggle will be your favorite game in this genre. There is a reason that the community is split on this, Twilight Struggle is in a sense, the common standard, but if I can be so bold as to say, true aficionados will recognize that Imperial Struggle is the true masterpiece.

7. The People’s Choice

This may be my list, but after so many categories, it only feels fair to let the wider board gaming community have its say as well.

Whether you agree with them or not, there are good reasons these games consistently appear at or near the top of rankings on BoardGameGeek and countless other “best of” lists. They’ve been played by thousands of people, recommended time and time again, and have earned reputations as some of the finest two-player games ever published.

Of course, these rankings change over time. New releases often generate a lot of excitement, and the hobby has a tendency to fall in love with the latest masterpiece before settling into a longer-term consensus.

That’s perfectly fine.

For this category, I’ve combined the community’s favourites while excluding games I’ve already covered elsewhere in this article, along with more niche titles that, while excellent, appeal to a much smaller audience.

These are the games that have achieved something much rarer.

They’re not just critically acclaimed; they’re genuinely popular, widely played, and have become modern classics in the two-player gaming world.

3. Jaipur
I’m not sure I would put this game on any list I would create, but I do appriciate it’s elegant design, straight-to-it gameplay, and fantastic pacing.

Before 7 Wonders Duel, before Patchwork, and before the explosion of dedicated two-player games we enjoy today, there was Jaipur.

Released back in 2009, Jaipur arrived at a time when two-player hobby games were usually long, heavy strategy affairs. Lighter games almost always catered to larger groups, leaving very few options for people simply looking for a fantastic game to play with one other person.

Jaipur changed that.

This wonderfully elegant set-collection game proved that a dedicated two-player game could be quick, approachable, and strategically satisfying without sacrificing depth. It quickly became one of the defining gateway games of the hobby, and for years it was the game almost everyone recommended when someone asked, “What’s the best game for two players?”

In board gaming, a simple-looking game is far more likely to trigger a positive response than a complex-looking one. In particular, a game with pretty but few components does a lot to alleviate that stress casual gamers feel when you open a box.

Although newer titles have inevitably stolen some of the spotlight, Jaipur has quietly endured. Its recent reprint has introduced it to a new generation of players, and it’s still easy to find games on Board Game Arena, a testament to just how timeless the design really is.

To me, Jaipur is one of those games every hobby gamer should experience at least once. Like Catan or Ticket to Ride, it’s become something of a rite of passage.

Nearly two decades later, it’s still one of the finest two-player games ever made.

2. 7 Wonders Duel
7 Wonders Duel is a stone-cold modern classic, of that there is no doubt.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a “Best Two-Player Games” list that didn’t include 7 Wonders Duel. More recently, The Lord of the Rings: Duel for Middle-earth has joined the conversation, but the original remains one of the defining two-player games of the modern era.

When 7 Wonders took the hobby by storm, a dedicated two-player version felt almost inevitable. Remarkably, it wasn’t just a good adaptation; it became a classic in its own right.

It’s a very pretty game; it’s a simple game, yet it’s a strategically deep game. It’s kind of a perfect storm, so I’m not at all surprised by its popularity. The fact that it can be played in under 30 minutes is just a cherry on top.

The game strikes a near-perfect balance between accessibility and depth. The rules are easy to teach, games rarely overstay their welcome, and beneath the elegant drafting system lies a surprising amount of strategic nuance. Whether you’re pursuing science, military dominance, or simply outscoring your opponent, every draft presents meaningful decisions.

More than a decade after its release, 7 Wonders Duel is still a fixture at game nights around the world.

There aren’t many games that can claim that kind of longevity. That’s the mark of a true modern classic, and I agree with it wholeheartedly.

1. Azul

This abstract game from 2017 blew the doors off the board gaming hobby. It’s sitting pretty along with titles like Settlers of Catan and Ticket To Ride in terms of popularity.

While Azul is an outstanding multiplayer game, it loses remarkably little at two players. In fact, it’s become a regular fixture on “Best Two-Player Games” lists, and I completely understand why.

More than just a successful board game, Azul helped define a generation of modern tabletop gaming. Like Settlers of Catan before it, it’s one of those rare titles that escaped the hobby and found its way onto the shelves of mainstream retailers and family homes around the world.

The premise couldn’t be much simpler. Players draft colourful tiles to decorate a palace wall, creating a wonderfully elegant puzzle that can be taught in just a couple of minutes. It’s one of those games that almost anyone can learn, making it a perfect replacement for classic family favourites like UNO or Yahtzee when someone says, “Let’s play a board game.”

I think, when it comes to board games, one universal truth is that people love puzzles.

Despite its simple rules, there’s far more strategy here than first meets the eye. Reading your opponent, timing your drafts, and balancing immediate points against long-term planning creates a game that’s easy to enjoy but difficult to perfect.

Elegant, beautiful, and endlessly replayable, Azul has earned its place as one of the defining modern classics of the hobby, and like all modern classics, there are literally dozens of variants.

8. The Dodo Bird Category

Some games simply go the way of the dodo.

They’re out of print, increasingly difficult to find, and if you do stumble across a copy, there’s a good chance it’ll cost you a small fortune. That makes them difficult to recommend today, at least from a practical standpoint.

But I couldn’t bring myself to leave them off this list.

These are games that, in their prime, would have comfortably earned a place somewhere in the rankings. They’re classics that deserve to be remembered, even if publishers have chosen to let them disappear into history.

Who knows, perhaps one day they’ll return in a shiny new edition.

Until then, these are my favourite extinct two-player masterpieces.

3. Star Wars: The Queen’s Gambit

A franchise game from Avalon Hill is by default a major red flag, but with Queen’s Gambit they really knocked it out of the park.

When The Phantom Menace hit cinemas in 1999, Avalon Hill (under Hasbro) was given the license to produce a board game based on the film. Like most movie tie-ins of the era, expectations were… low.

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Today, Star Wars: The Queen’s Gambit is one of the rarest and most sought-after modern board games ever produced. If you can even find a copy, expect to pay anywhere between $500 and $1,300 on the secondary market.

The reason is simple: it wasn’t just an impressive production; it was an excellent game.

The Queen’s Gambit recreated all three climactic battles from The Phantom Menace simultaneously. One player commanded the Gungan army against the Trade Federation droids, another led Queen Amidala’s assault on the royal palace, while, towering above it all on a magnificent multi-level board, Darth Maul faced Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi in one of the most iconic lightsaber duels in Star Wars history. While the game could be played multiplayer, it very clearly worksed best as a two-player experience.

The Queen’s Gambit is as much spectacle as it is a game. It’s as much fun to look at as it is to play. Finding a reasonably priced copy of this game is not going to be easy.

Mechanically, it’s surprisingly approachable, but it’s the production that made it unforgettable. Few games have captured the feeling of recreating a movie quite so successfully. Later titles, such as the 2015 edition of Star Wars Risk, borrowed elements of the formula, but none matched the spectacle or table presence of The Queen’s Gambit.

For years, Star Wars fans have hoped for a reprint. While nothing has been officially announced, rumours of a spiritual successor or modern reimagining continue to circulate.

If it ever happens, I’ll be first in line, but don’t get your hopes up!

2. Star Wars: X-Wing
There are a few different editions of this game in terms of rules and releases, but the original, 1st edition Star Wars X-Wing was the best we ever got.

I’m honestly trying not to turn this into a Star Wars list, but some games are simply too good to ignore.

At its peak, Star Wars: X-Wing wasn’t just the best two-player miniatures game on the market, it was arguably one of the best two-player games, period. To this day, I struggle to think of another miniature game that combined accessibility, tactical depth, and cinematic action quite so perfectly.

X-Wing captured the feeling of fast-paced dogfights better than any game before or since. It was simultaneously epic and intimate, with every maneuver dial and every firing arc creating meaningful decisions. In many ways, I never really thought of it as a miniature game; I just thought of it as an exceptionally good game.

A huge part of its success was how approachable it was. The ships came pre-painted, games were played on a compact 3′ x 3′ battlefield, setup took minutes rather than hours, and a competitive collection could be built for roughly the cost of a handful of modern board games. Compared to most miniature systems, it felt refreshingly affordable and easy to get into.

Star Wars dog fighting at it’s best!

During its golden years, X-Wing was an enormous success. Unfortunately, like many collectible miniature games, it eventually became a victim of its own expansion cycle. New releases arrived at an increasingly aggressive pace, balance became more difficult to maintain, and many players felt the focus had shifted from refining the game to continually selling new products. Interest gradually declined, ownership changed hands, and eventually production came to an end. It was, in a way, a victim of its own success, and I would argue corporate greed.

Unlike some of the games in this category, however, X-Wing isn’t impossible to find. Fantasy Flight Games printed enormous quantities of ships over the years, so the second-hand market is still full of them at very reasonable prices.

Officially, though, Star Wars: X-Wing has gone the way of the dodo. And that’s a genuine loss for tabletop gaming.

1. Battlelore

The command and colors system is a lot of fun, but there is no question that this is the definitive variant for me! Although I will say that Battle of Hoth, the latest iteration, is really awesome too and mostly for the same reason.

Richard Borg’s Commands & Colors system has become one of the most successful tabletop wargame engines ever created, spawning adaptations covering everything from the American Civil War to Ancient Rome, Napoleonics, World War II, and even Star Wars.

For fantasy fans, however, there is only one game that truly stands above the rest: BattleLore.

Taking the proven Borg formula and transporting it to the world of Terrinoth was an inspired decision. The familiar command card system remained intact, but the addition of magic, legendary creatures, unique faction abilities, and asymmetrical armies gave BattleLore an identity all of its own. It felt less like a historical simulation and more like a fantasy battlefield where anything could happen.

What made the game truly shine was its range of expansions. New factions, creatures, heroes, and scenarios allowed players to customise the experience in countless ways. Unfortunately, that’s also what makes collecting BattleLore today so painful. The core game is difficult enough to find, but completing a collection now requires a considerable investment on the secondary market.

BattleLore was a lot more unit-focused than other versions of the Command and Color system. The game understood that fantasy monsters needed to be special.

Thankfully, the Commands & Colors system is still alive and well. Games like Star Wars: Battle of Hoth prove that Richard Borg’s design remains as compelling today as ever.

As for BattleLore, I remain optimistic. Unlike other games in this category, this one feels destined for another life.

Here’s hoping someone gives it the reprint it deserves.

9. Best Two-Player Abstract Games

There are already a few abstract games on this list, but by “abstract” I’m talking about games that don’t even pretend to have a theme. These are games that fully embrace the puzzle, strip away the narrative, and rely entirely on clever mechanics and meaningful decisions.

There are a staggering number of abstract two-player games out there. In fact, most pure abstract games are designed specifically for two players, which made this one of the hardest categories to narrow down.

I also think it’s one of the most important categories on the list. While the theme is often what draws hobby gamers in, it can have the opposite effect on people outside the hobby. Asking someone to roleplay a medieval merchant or command an alien invasion isn’t always the easiest sell.

Puzzles, however, are universal.

Abstract games remove that barrier completely. They’re easy to explain, immediately familiar, and appeal to something almost everyone enjoys: solving interesting puzzles. I’ve found they’re often the easiest way to get even the most reluctant non-gamer to sit down at the table, and before long, they’re asking for another game.

3. Hive
Hive is a game, even if you have never played it, that will feel familiar. It has the quintessential “of course something like this exists” thing to it.

While Hive isn’t completely devoid of theme, what’s there exists almost entirely to help identify the different insects and their unique movement. You’re never meant to immerse yourself in the world or tell a story. The theme simply gives the mechanics a memorable face.

At its heart, Hive is a wonderfully elegant abstract game. Each player places insect tiles onto the table, with every piece moving according to its own simple rules. The objective couldn’t be more straightforward: surround your opponent’s Queen Bee before they surround yours.

Despite the simplicity, there’s plenty of room for clever play. Positioning, timing, and anticipating your opponent’s next move are everything. Much like chess, you’re often trying to force a particular response before springing your real plan, although Hive is considerably easier to learn and far less intimidating for newcomers.

It’s compact enough to throw into a backpack, can be played almost anywhere, and takes only a few minutes to teach. That combination of accessibility, portability and strategic depth has made Hive a modern classic.

It may not receive the same attention as some of the bigger names in the hobby, but it’s one of those games I can happily recommend to almost anyone.

2. Onitama
Yes, I hate the shape of this box too, but what is inside is well worth finding an odd place on your game shelf to put this thing.

Very reminiscent of The Duke, which I also love, I don’t feel bad about including both games on this list. They share the same core concept, but each has enough personality to justify its place.

Each player begins with four students and a master on a compact 5×5 board. Rather than every piece having its own movement, players instead share a small pool of movement cards. On your turn, you perform one of the available moves, then pass that card to your opponent and take a new one. It’s an incredibly clever system that ensures the puzzle is constantly evolving throughout the game.

The objective is wonderfully simple. Capture your opponent’s Master or move your own Master into your opponent’s temple.

Like all great abstract games, the rules can be explained in just a few minutes, but mastering the strategy is an entirely different challenge. Every move changes not only the current position but also the options available to both players on future turns, creating an elegant tactical dance where planning ahead is just as important as reacting to what’s in front of you.

Onitama is a kind of modern-day chess, yet oddly enough it feels like an ancient game from China. It’s a thinker, and you can attain a pretty high level of mastery over it.

This is very much a “one more game” kind of experience. Matches are quick, every setup feels different thanks to the randomized movement cards, and it’s the sort of game that quietly keeps finding its way back to the table.

More than a decade after its release, it’s still one of the finest abstract games ever designed, and one that I expect will remain in my collection for many years to come.

1. YINSH

I doubt anyone would ever buy this game on impulse; it’s in the hobby the sort of game that get’s passed around and recommended by gamers to gamers. Which is sad because it really is one of the best abstract games ever made.

Yinsh is part of Kris Burm’s celebrated GIPF Project, a series of abstract games that includes equally strange-sounding titles such as TZAAR, DVONN, ZÈRTZ, LYNGK and, of course, GIPF itself.

I haven’t played every game in the series, so I can’t honestly say how they all compare, but if BoardGameGeek’s rankings are anything to go by, Yinsh is widely regarded as one of the finest. Having played it, I find it hard to disagree, not just in the series but so far as abstract games go in general.

The objective is deceptively simple. Players move rings around the board, leaving markers behind as they travel. Create a line of five markers, and you remove one of your rings from the game. Be the first player to remove three rings, and you win. There are, of course, various shenanigans beyond that, including flipping opponents’ markers.

Explaining the rules is easy. Playing well is another matter entirely.

Yinsh is one of those games that forces your brain to think differently. Every move changes the state of the board, flipping markers, creating new threats and often setting up combinations several turns into the future. It reminds me a little of a more involved Othello or Go in the way every move influences everything around it, yet the puzzle is entirely its own. The strategic possibilities go far deeper than anything I’ve ever been able to master.

It doesn’t look like much, but this game has a very deep level of mastery; it’s a true brain burner. This is a game of pure skill, plain and simple.

For a game with no theme whatsoever, Yinsh also has a wonderful physical presence. The chunky rings, solid components, and clean, minimalist design make it a pleasure to play.

More than twenty years after its release, Yinsh remains one of the premier abstract games ever designed, and I suspect it will still hold that reputation twenty years from now.

10. New Kids On The Block

Thanks to the explosion of board games since the early 2000’s more games are published each year than the year before, so there is never a shortage of new games to try.

Now I consider a game new if it was released in the last 2-3 years, mainly because unless a game is some sort of phenomenon that attracts a lot of attention, it can take that long for a game to get sufficient traction and exposure before you even hear about it, let alone try it.

The following are the three best 2-player games released in the last couple of years.

3. Lord of the Rings: Duel For Middle-Earth
You might assume that this is just 7 Wonders Duel with a Lord of the Rings skin; it is not, and saying that about this game is just willful ignorance.

I already mentioned this game earlier on the list, but I think it’s good enough to deserve a category all of its own.

At its heart, this is clearly built on the foundations of 7 Wonders Duel, but rather than simply applying a Lord of the Rings skin to an existing game, it meaningfully improves the formula.

The familiar drafting remains, but the victory conditions have been reworked to better fit Tolkien’s world. Instead of simply chasing points, players are constantly balancing military control, the Fellowship’s journey to Mount Doom, and the support of Middle-earth’s allies. Every path to victory feels thematic and keeps both players engaged until the very last turn.

For me, this is essentially 7 Wonders Duel 2.0. It takes everything that made the original great, wraps it in one of the greatest fantasy settings ever created, and adds enough new ideas to justify owning both games.

While there is quite a bit going on in this game, the simplicity of the core mechanic maintains it as a casual or newbie-friendly game, much in the way 7 Wonders Duel could be described. It’s just good gaming with a cool theme.

If you pick up the Allies expansion, I think the game gets even better. The unique faction abilities add a welcome layer of asymmetry that makes the Free Peoples and the Shadow feel even more distinct, bringing the theme to life in ways the base game only hints at.

For fans of Tolkien, this is rapidly becoming one of the definitive two-player games, and I wouldn’t be surprised if, ten years from now, it’s remembered even more fondly than the game that inspired it.

2. Dune: War For Arrakis
I don’t doubt its potential, hence its presence on this list, but there are quite a few great interpretations of the Dune universe in board games, many of them are stone-cold classics.

Dune: War for Arrakis sets out to do for Frank Herbert’s universe what War of the Ring did for The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars: Rebellion did for Star Wars. That’s an incredibly ambitious goal, but from what I’ve seen so far, it’s a remarkably successful attempt.

Like those games, War for Arrakis is built around two highly asymmetrical factions battling over the fate of an iconic setting. Event cards bring key moments from the story to the table, action dice drive difficult decisions, and famous units such as the Fremen and the Sardaukar all play exactly the roles you would expect.

I’ve only played it once, so I’m not ready to declare it a masterpiece just yet. A single learning game is rarely enough to fully appreciate something of this size. What I can say is that it immediately gave me the feeling I was hoping for. It felt big, cinematic and unmistakably Dune. That’s often something I can recognise after just one play, and it left me wanting to get it back to the table as soon as possible.

If you’re looking for a great Dune game, Dune: Imperium is still my favourite, especially with three or four players. It’s one of the best worker placement games ever made. War for Arrakis, however, isn’t trying to compete with it. It’s a completely different experience.

In my experience, there are two types of people in the world: people who love Dune and people who hate Dune. I don’t think this game will make you a fan if you’re not already, and if you love Dune, this one is likely going to stick the landing.

This is a game about the war for Arrakis itself. It puts the conflict between House Atreides and House Harkonnen front and centre, delivering the kind of grand, narrative-driven experience that only a dedicated two-player game can provide.

If it continues to impress over repeated plays, I wouldn’t be surprised if it eventually joins the ranks of the genre’s all-time greats.

1. Toy Battle

For anyone active in the hobby of board gaming, seeing Toy Battle on this list should come as no surprise; it’s a phenomenon- this is a game everyone is playing.

With its bright colours, chunky toy soldiers and Saturday morning cartoon presentation, it would be easy to dismiss Toy Battle as a children’s game. I assure you, it’s not.

Toy Battle is one of the smartest two-player games released in years, proving once again that simple rules and deep strategy often make the best combination.

Players deploy units onto the battlefield, each bringing its own unique ability, in an effort to capture the opposing headquarters. The rules can be taught in minutes, but the interaction between unit powers, board positioning and the game’s clever supply line system creates an endlessly fascinating tactical puzzle.

Every decision matters. Commit too early and you leave yourself exposed. Wait too long and your opponent seizes the initiative. It’s one of those rare games where every turn feels important without ever becoming complicated.

Its dominance at the 2025 Golden Geek Awards surprised absolutely nobody. Toy Battle arrived seemingly out of nowhere and immediately established itself as one of the premier two-player games on the market.

Simple to learn, lightning fast to play, yet incredibly rewarding to master, I genuinely believe Toy Battle is well on its way to becoming a modern classic. If people are still talking about it twenty years from now, I won’t be the least bit surprised.

Conclusion and Final Notes

The truth is that I could put this list together 10 times and come up with different games to put into each category, not to mention easily come up with more categories; the goal here isn’t really to make some sort of definitive statement but to expose hobbyists to some games they may or may not have heard of.

To me, a good top 10 list is going to give you a hankering to buy/try something new, and hopefully I have managed that with this list.

Happy Gaming!

Review: Tembo – Survival On The Savanna

I’ve been described by friends as many things over the years, but my personal favorite is “a fully functioning idiot.” Honestly, I think that’s a fairly accurate assessment.

That same quirkiness extends to my taste in board games, which is probably why my enthusiastically recommending a cooperative game about escorting elephants across the African savanna sounds completely out of character.

Generally speaking, I don’t like cooperative games, regardless of theme, but theme is rarely the problem for me.

Why sign up to review a cooperative game if, in general, I don’t like cooperative games? This picture is the answer. I saw this and thought to myself, that is one beautiful game I would like to see in person. The use of color, wonderful components, and amazing art really brings this game to another level. I figured if I end up liking it, it will be an easy game to get to the table.

Even more strangely, when I do like one, it rarely seems to be the ones everyone else loves. I have no explanation for this phenomenon other than the possibility that I’m simply wired differently somehow, or I’m a cooperative gaming hipster. Who knows!?

Take Pandemic, for example, one of the most beloved cooperative games around. I actively dislike it. Pandemic Legacy did nothing to change my opinion; it was just an extended version of the same game with the same problems. Gloomhaven bored me to tears. I still maintain it’s essentially shitty Dungeons & Dragons with all the roleplaying surgically removed, and I never understood the obsession with Clank! either. Its repetative if it’s anything.

Clearly, I’m the problem? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

So why has a cooperative game about herding elephants managed to win me over?

The answer has surprisingly little to do with elephants.

What I enjoy most about cooperative games is genuine adversity. I want a game that repeatedly beats us into the dirt before we finally scrape together a victory through experience, better teamwork, and a little bit of luck. That moment where everyone around the table erupts because you’ve finally solved a puzzle that seemed impossible three games earlier. That’s the magic of cooperative gaming to me and coincidentally, it’s what makes for a good solo game as well.

Which checks out. Among the cooperative games I love, you will find games like Lord of the Rings: The Card Game. An absolutetly brutal and unforgiving deck builder and the lesser-known Peloponnesian War by Mark Herman, a game, if you can win, you should call the designer, he will be impressed! Both are great games to play cooperatively, but for me, these are just fantastic solo games.

Peloponnesian War is a historical war game and technically a solo game. Yet, I found Tembo reminded me of it a bit because it’s this really great puzzle that you have to solve, and I love living inside my head, obsessing about a game that is just absolutetly crushing me as they say “is the juice!”. The Peloponnesian War was the last game I played solo that did that, and it’s exactly what I got out of Tembo, which was really great. I love a good challenge.

Tembo delivers exactly that energy.

I’ve also discovered over the years that there are three things I absolutely cannot stand in cooperative games.

First, I dislike “alpha gamer” designs where one experienced player effectively takes everyone’s turns for them. Pandemic has always been the poster child for this. Once someone at the table knows the optimal strategy, everyone else gradually becomes an unpaid intern carrying out instructions.

Second, I have very little patience for cooperative games that secretly don’t want you to lose. You know the type. They’re less games than guided theme park rides where the illusion of danger is far greater than the actual challenge. If failure requires the combined tactical brilliance of a potato, something has gone wrong.

Finally, I want games that earn their victories.

If my group beats a cooperative game on the first attempt, chances are it wasn’t difficult enough. That’s admittedly a slightly unfair benchmark because the people I regularly play with are seasoned hobby gamers. We tend to solve difficult games faster than most groups. Fate: Defenders of Grimheim is a good example. I genuinely believe it’s an excellent challenge, yet we’ve somehow managed to beat it every single time it’s hit the table on the highest difficulty level.

Tembo is different. I’ve now played it well over a dozen times. I’ve won once. And that’s exactly why I keep coming back.

Even the introductory challenges continue to force me into difficult decisions. Every defeat leaves me convinced there’s a better strategy waiting to be discovered, another approach I haven’t considered, another tiny optimization that might finally tip the scales in my favor.

That’s exciting. That’s the sort of cooperative game I want to play.

Behind the adorable artwork, charming elephants, and wonderfully approachable rules lies a genuinely demanding puzzle, one that’s far cleverer than it first appears.

And for someone who generally doesn’t enjoy cooperative games as a whole, that’s about the highest compliment I can give.

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star(3.85) Great Strategic Puzzle

The best way I can describe Tembo is as a deceptively simple puzzle that’s constantly trying to outsmart you.

The objective itself couldn’t be more straightforward. You’re guiding a herd of elephants across a randomized savanna, escorting them safely from one side of the map to the other. If all your elephants make it to the destination, you win.

Unfortunately, the game seems to have taken that simplicity as a personal challenge.

The first obstacle is that your herd can’t simply march to the finish line. Along the way, there are six key locations that must be visited before victory is even possible. Every detour costs precious time and resources, forcing you to constantly weigh short-term efficiency against long-term necessity.

Checking off the different locations before you march your elephants to the finish line is the big catch here, but the complexity is tripled down on because you have to manage this little trip around the savanna while avoiding lions and staving off the Matriarch cards.

Then there’s your energy supply.

Energy is brutally limited and slowly drains away as you play certain cards. You can replenish it by visiting certain places scattered around the board, but doing so often requires abandoning the route you actually wanted to take. Ignore your energy, and you’ll eventually grind to a halt. Chase it too aggressively, and you’ll waste so much time that victory slips away anyway.

It’s a wonderfully uncomfortable balancing act. The elephants themselves introduce another layer of complexity.

Your herd must always remain connected, forming an unbroken chain stretching across the landscape. Periodically, you’ll need to play a Matriarch card, relocating the lead elephant somewhere else in that chain before gathering up the rest of the herd and beginning the journey again from that new position. It’s a clever mechanism that constantly forces you to rethink your route instead of simply extending the same line across the board.

As if that wasn’t enough, you’re also building the savanna as you play.

The terrain itself is created by laying down landscape cards, determining not only where your elephants can travel, but also providing the resting places needed to recruit additional elephants into your growing herd.

The game is further complicated by lions that will periodically activate and hunt your elephants, which, when successful, will permanently remove members of your herd and weaken your chances of success.

The lions can absolutetly devastate any attempt at a victory, no matter how brilliant your strategy, they are the big trump card that you must be ready for at all times. In most scenarios, their starting location really determines just how difficult a scenario will be.

Individually, none of these systems are particularly difficult to understand. Collectively, they’re fiendishly difficult to master.

That’s where Tembo really shines.

Every turn feels like you’re solving a Rubik’s Cube where twisting one side somehow rearranges three others. You finally solve your energy problem only to discover you’ve broken your elephant chain. You build the perfect route only to realize you’ve skipped a mandatory objective. You manage to get your chain set up correctly, only to have it cut by a lion attack. Every solution creates two brand-new problems, and somehow that’s exactly what makes the game so satisfying.

For all of those reasons, I absolutely adore Tembo.

Interestingly, though, I don’t think the cooperative aspect is actually its biggest strength.

Don’t misunderstand me, it’s an excellent cooperative game I would recommend to any group of gamers. Sitting around a table with friends trying to untangle this puzzle is hugely rewarding, particularly after several failed attempts. Everyone contributes ideas, everyone spots different opportunities, and those eventual victories feel thoroughly earned.

But for me……the real magic is the solo game.

I’ve been slightly obsessed with Tembo for the better part of two weeks. I’ve replayed the opening challenges more times than I care to admit, and despite losing, well, pretty much always, I keep coming back for “just one more attempt.”

That’s the sign of a great puzzle to me, if it feels like I can’t solve it, that drives me to try over and over again.

Every defeat feels deserved. Every loss convinces me I was only one or two better decisions away from success. Every new game teaches me something I hadn’t noticed before.

I’ve only managed to beat the game a handful of times on the most basic difficulty levels after two weeks of trying. Either I’m stupid, or this game is hard!

Normally, that would frustrate me. Instead, it just makes me want to shuffle the cards and try again.

That’s probably the strongest recommendation I can give. Tembo isn’t simply difficult.

It’s addictively difficult, and for players who enjoy slowly unraveling a beautifully constructed puzzle, I think that’s exactly what makes it special, and it’s the main reason to get into this game.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Looks great, feels great, is great.  Quality publication with an eye for great art.

Cons: You would have to be pretty picky to find a problem here.

Reviewing components has become a slightly strange exercise these days. Twenty years ago, component quality could make or break a game. Today, the industry standard is so consistently high that most productions simply clear the bar. It has almost become a pass-or-fail category rather than a meaningful differentiator.

Tembo is a perfect example of that.

Everything in the box is exactly what you’d hope it would be. The cards are excellent, the modular board tiles are thick and durable, the wooden elephant tokens are charming, and all of the cardboard components feel like they’ll comfortably survive hundreds of plays. Long before the components begin to show any wear, you’ll almost certainly have exhausted the game itself.

The presentation deserves particular praise. Once everything is laid out across the table, Tembo does a wonderful job of evoking the African savanna. The warm color palette, inviting artwork, and clean graphic design all come together to create a game that’s simply pleasant to look at.

Tembo is more than just pretty, its very functional. Good use of iconography, a very well laid out rulebook, and good reference material make learning to play and executing this game that much easier. This is the standard I think all games should meet.

The insert also deserves a quick mention. It’s thoughtfully designed, keeps every component neatly organized, and makes setup and teardown refreshingly painless. It sounds like a small thing, but after wrestling with enough poorly designed inserts over the years, I’ve learned to appreciate the ones that simply do their job.

If I had one criticism, it’s that the production occasionally wanders into the realm of unnecessary spectacle.

The cardboard standees used for trees and location markers certainly look nice on the table, but functionally, they don’t add very much. A simple token or tracker could have communicated the same information while reducing both production costs and setup time. I understand the designers were aiming for immersion, and aesthetically it works, but it also feels like an easy place where the game could have been streamlined without sacrificing the experience.

That’s a relatively minor complaint, though.

Overall, Tembo is a beautiful production. The artwork is gorgeous, the components feel premium without being excessive, and everything has clearly been designed to withstand repeated play. More importantly, the production serves the game rather than distracting from it. The iconography is clear and easy to remember, and there are plenty of cheat sheets and reference material, so you don’t have to go searching through the manual to answer the few questions you might have during play.

In the end, I really don’t have much to complain about.

It’s a polished, attractive package that feels every bit as refined as the gameplay inside.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: The art sells this theme, and for a strategy puzzle game, the theme comes across surprisingly well.

Cons: This family-friendly theme may result in a disconnect between expectations and reality.  It may look like a family game, but this is definitely a complex strategic puzzle that casual gamers will struggle with.

For games that are fundamentally abstract puzzles, theme often takes a back seat to mechanics. Whether you’re moving cubes through a medieval marketplace or elephants across the African savanna, the underlying puzzle usually remains the real attraction.

Tembo is no exception.

I’m a sucker for a pretty game with pretty colors, but at the end of the day Tembo’s theme and eye candy is not the main attraction here; this game lives by the wonderful strategic puzzle it presents, the eye candy is just a cherry on top.

That said, if you’re going to wrap a puzzle in a theme, marching a herd of elephants across the African savanna is a pretty inspired choice.

There’s something immediately calming about it. The artwork evokes the same feeling as a lazy Sunday afternoon watching a wildlife documentary, complete with the soothing narration of Sir David Attenborough gently explaining why the elephants are, once again, making better life decisions than the humans.

The artwork deserves particular praise.

The color palette is absolutely gorgeous. Warm oranges, rich greens, and soft earth tones combine to create a board that is both inviting and unmistakably African safari. Every illustration feels carefully considered, giving the game a personality that’s difficult not to appreciate. It’s one of those games that naturally draws people over to the table simply because it looks so attractive.

The adorable presentation is both one of the game’s greatest strengths and, oddly enough, one of its greatest deceptions.

Everything about Tembo screams “friendly family game.” The rules are straightforward, the elephants are charming, and the presentation couldn’t be more welcoming.

Then the game proceeds to repeatedly crush your spirit.

It’s almost comical how vicious the puzzle hiding beneath those cute illustrations actually is. I can easily imagine families picking this up expecting a relaxed cooperative adventure, only to discover they’ve accidentally signed up for an advanced logistics course run by elephants.

That contrast is strangely endearing.

The theme itself isn’t deeply woven into every mechanism, but it provides enough context that every action makes intuitive sense. You’re exploring the savanna, guiding your herd, managing their energy, and carefully navigating the landscape toward safety while avoiding predators. The mechanics never feel disconnected from the story the game is trying to tell.

As I understand it, Tembo is part of a broader series of nature-themed games, although I haven’t had the opportunity to play the others.

My understanding, mind you, I did the absolute minimum amount of research here, is that Deep Blue is a member of the game series that Tembo completes. Looking at the wonderful use of color here, that would not surprise me. It definitely piqued my interest.

What I do know is that designer Asger Granerud has developed a reputation for elegant designs with memorable themes. Between Flamme Rouge, Heat: Pedal to the Metal, and now Tembo, there’s a clear pattern of taking relatively straightforward mechanisms and wrapping them in themes that immediately resonate with players.

The theme isn’t the reason I keep coming back to Tembo. The puzzle is.

But the beautiful presentation, charming artwork, and wonderfully peaceful atmosphere certainly don’t hurt. They make repeatedly losing feel just a little less painful, which, given how difficult this game is, might be one of its smartest design decisions.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: The simple rules disguise a very complex puzzle that requires a lot of game knowledge and experience before you succeed.  Great challenge.

Cons: Despite best efforts from the design perspective, some games you will simply lose because of a bad draw, and some you will win because you got lucky.

Whenever I review a game, there are two questions I always ask myself.

The first is simple: Have I played this game before?

Not literally, of course. But most games borrow ideas from somewhere. Worker placement, deck building, tableau building, drafting; modern board games are built on decades of fantastic design, they are usually evolutions, not revolutions. But every now and then, a game presents a puzzle that feels genuinely fresh, a design that makes me stop and think, “I haven’t quite seen that before.”

Those games always get my attention.

The second question is equally important: Can I solve it immediately?

If the optimal strategy reveals itself during the first play, my interest tends to fade rather quickly. What keeps me coming back are games that slowly reveal themselves over repeated plays. Games where every defeat teaches you something, every victory results in you uncovering another layer, and you’re constantly left wondering if there’s an even better approach waiting to be discovered.

Tembo ticks both boxes.

On the surface, it looks like a pleasant little family game about escorting elephants across the African savanna. The rules are approachable, the artwork is adorable, and nothing about the presentation suggests a strategic monster lurking beneath. And perhaps Tembo is not exactly that, but it’s certainly a lot more than what’s on the tin suggests.

That’s wonderfully deceptive. As I’m writing this review, I’ve played Tembo roughly fifteen times. I’m still discovering new ideas. I’m still excited to play.

What’s interesting is that my first impression was actually fairly lukewarm. After my opening games I remember thinking, “This is interesting… but I’m not sure there is much more here than a push your luck game.”

Then I lost. Again. And again.

Losing at Tembo is not hard to do; things can escalate and get out of control pretty fast, especially once the lions get close to the herd. It can be a bit frustrating at times.

Those defeats bothered me enough that I refused to write this review until I’d actually beaten the introductory scenario. More importantly, as I lost, I could see that it wasn’t luck that was driving my defeats.

Eventually, I did win. That’s when the obsession started.

Instead of feeling satisfied, I immediately wanted to tackle the next challenge. Then the next one. Then the next. Every victory revealed another layer of the puzzle, and what initially looked like a pleasant family game gradually transformed into one of the most fascinating strategic puzzles I’ve played in a while.

The best way I can describe Tembo is that it rewards thinking several turns ahead without ever becoming mechanically complicated, with some luck management. The rules remain wonderfully straightforward, but the game is a lot deeper than the rules suggest.

The strategy doesn’t end with solving one of the puzzles; there is a lot more to learn after finishing the first couple of scenarios.

Whether you’re playing solo or cooperatively, I think three elements combine to make the game exceptional.

Every Puzzle Feels Different

The first is the dynamic map.

Every scenario changes the layout of the savanna, but the map tiles themselves also rotate between games. Add to that the impact of the locations of the lions and suddenly every puzzle demands a different approach.

Some layouts reward speed. Others reward caution. Some practically force you to detour for energy, while others encourage aggressive expansion before the lions begin closing off your options.

How you build up the savanna with cards is vital to any strategy, but you’re always working with the constraints of the cards you have drawn. There is a lot of nuance in this little card game built into Tembo, it takes several games for the lights to come on.

The game constantly asks you to reassess your plan rather than relying on whatever worked last time.

Information Is a Resource

The second thing Tembo quietly expects from its players is card counting.

Keeping track of how many Matriarch cards remain in the deck, how many Lion cards have already appeared, and what your odds are on the next draw becomes increasingly important as the difficulty ramps up.

It’s a little like Blackjack. Your odds of winning feel random until you card count, and then suddenly it feels far more strategic. Vegas refers to using strategy in Blackjack as cheating, because it’s that effective. Though card counting here is an intended element, there is even a reference card that helps you do it, and of course, it’s considerably less complicated to count cards here than in Blackjack. It’s an obvious part of the strategic expectation designed into the game.

You never have complete control over what happens next, but understanding the probabilities dramatically improves your chances of making the right decision.

Ignoring the deck is possible. Winning while ignoring is not unless you get really lucky.

Resource Management Is Everything

Finally, and most importantly, there’s resource management.

Energy and rested elephants are the lifeblood of the game. You’ll never have enough of either.

Energy constantly disappears, forcing difficult decisions about when it’s worth diverting from your route to replenish it. Running out is one of the endgame loss conditions, so its nescessary to keep your levels up. Meanwhile, your elephant herd gradually shrinks as lions become more aggressive and the board grows increasingly hostile.

Managing those two resources while simultaneously planning your route, tracking the deck, and preparing for future Matriarch resets creates an astonishing number of possible board states.

Every turn feels meaningful. Every mistake has consequences. Every successful move feels earned.

It’s very easy during your first few games to fall into the trap of simply hoping things work out.

“I’ll probably draw the card I need.” “Hopefully the lions don’t appear here.” “Maybe I can squeeze out one more move…”

Sometimes you’ll even get away with it. Tembo quickly teaches you that hope and luck is not a strategy.

The greater difficulty scenarios demand careful planning, disciplined resource management, and a willingness to think several turns into the future. That’s where the game truly comes alive.

Interestingly, while the cooperative and solo experiences are mechanically almost identical, I actually prefer the game solo. The cooperative restrictions around discussing cards create a slightly different challenge, and it’s still an excellent multiplayer puzzle, but it was the solo mode that completely hooked me. It’s where I’ve spent most of my time, and it’s where I think Tembo truly shines.

What I love most about the design is that it never advertises any of this.

On the surface, Tembo looks like an approachable cooperative family game with adorable elephants. And it kind of is, but hidden underneath that theme is one of the smart, very satisfying strategic puzzles well worth exploring by veteran gamers.

That’s a wonderful achievement. And it’s exactly why I think Tembo is a very underrated game. It deserves more attention in my humble opinion.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: It’s going to take a lot of replays to complete all of the difficulty levels, and you’re definitely getting your money’s worth.

Cons:  Eventually, the puzzle will feel solved, and the game will run out of steam permanently.

Replayability is perhaps the most difficult category to score in Tembo because the answer depends entirely on what you’re expecting from the game.

From a pure value-for-money perspective, I don’t think there’s much to complain about. At roughly the €35–40 price point, Tembo offers a tremendous amount of gameplay. It took me around fifteen plays just to consistently solve some of the introductory scenarios, and I suspect the later challenges will demand at least that many again before I feel like I’ve truly mastered them. Then there is the potential of introducing it to new players and enjoying their discovery and experience.

Frankly, that’s already more plays than many games in my collection ever receive.

There is a campaign mode that comes with Tembo, and for this review, I did not even attempt it. I think it’s for an advanced level of play. Just reading the instructions, I could see how very difficult a challenge that will be, but it does give the game a bit of extra longevity.

When I look across my shelves, the list of games I’ve played thirty or forty times is surprisingly short. Tembo is well on its way to joining that club, and that’s saying something.

That said, I don’t think Tembo is the sort of game you’ll play forever. At its heart, it’s a puzzle. And puzzles, by their very nature, have an endpoint.

I don’t necessarily mean they’ll ever be completely “solved.” The randomized maps, card order, and dynamic board states ensure there’s always some variation from game to game. But eventually you’ll reach a point where the game has taught you most of what it has to teach. The surprises become less frequent, the strategies more familiar, and your decisions increasingly instinctive.

For some people, that might sound like a weakness. I don’t see it that way.

Not every game needs to become a lifestyle game that lives permanently on your table. Sometimes a game simply needs to provide dozens of hours of engaging, memorable gameplay before gracefully stepping aside for the next experience.

Tembo strikes me as exactly that kind of game. It’s a journey with a destination.

Eventually, you’ll reach the end, feel immensely satisfied that you made it, and happily place it back on the shelf knowing it earned every play it received.

I think there’s something rather fitting about that. After all, every migration eventually comes to an end.

Conclusion

When I sat down to write this review, I honestly wasn’t sure where I was going to land. If anything, I expected to be fairly lukewarm on Tembo.

Cooperative games and I don’t exactly have the best relationship, and if I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t particularly excited when I first agreed to review it. There was even a small part of me that regretted saying yes.

I’m very happy to report that I was completely wrong.

Tembo didn’t just surprise me; it quietly became one of my biggest gaming obsessions of the past few weeks.

It’s an unusual game. A cooperative strategy puzzle about escorting elephants across the African savanna isn’t exactly the sort of pitch that immediately grabs my attention, yet behind that simple, yet charming presentation lies one of the most satisfying and cleverly designed cooperative puzzles I’ve played in quite a while.

What impressed me most wasn’t the difficulty. It was the very subtle depth brought out slowly, even if it was a bit frustrating at times.

Tembo is one of those rare games that’s incredibly easy to learn but remarkably difficult to master. The rules are concise, intuitive, and approachable, yet the strategic puzzle hiding beneath them took me well over a dozen games before I felt like I truly understood what the designers were asking of me.

That’s exactly the sort of challenge I enjoy and certainly wasn’t expecting it from Tembo, a game about herding elephants.

I love going into a game with low expectations and being pleasantly surprised; it’s actually one of my favorite things about being a tabletop games reviewer.

Although Tembo plays wonderfully as a cooperative experience, it was the solo mode that completely won me over. It captures everything I love about solitary puzzle solving: the constant experimentation, the gradual discovery of better strategies, and the satisfying feeling that every defeat is teaching you something rather than simply wasting your time.

Yes, sometimes the game just beats you because of bad luck, not unlike a bad beat in poker, and that is going to happen now and again, but the more you play, the less often it happens, and that is experience kicking in. It might seem random, especially at first, but this game hides a lot of strategic subtlety.

If you enjoy cooperative puzzle games that genuinely expect you to think, titles like The Crew, The Gang, or even the more puzzle-oriented side of Spirit Island, I think you’ll find a lot to love here.

I also think it makes an excellent family game, with one important caveat.

Don’t mistake approachable rules for an easy game.

Tembo is genuinely difficult, and younger players or more casual families may find the constant defeats frustrating. Fortunately, the designers anticipated this. The support cards provide valuable assistance, and there are optional rules that soften the challenge for groups who simply want a more relaxed experience, like playing without event cards. Personally, I recommend keeping the event deck in play. It adds another layer of unpredictability and keeps the puzzle feeling dynamic, even if it occasionally results in spectacular failure.

Spectacular failure, in my opinion, is half the fun.

Tembo won’t be for everyone. If you’re looking for a light-hearted cooperative game where victory is almost guaranteed, you’ll probably bounce off it.

But if you’re the kind of player who enjoys wrestling with a difficult puzzle, learning through repeated defeats, and finally earning a victory that feels genuinely deserved, Tembo is an easy recommendation.

A beautifully produced, deceptively deep, and wonderfully addictive puzzle game that earned its place on my shelf the hard way, by making me want to play “just one more game” fifteen times in a row.

That’s about as high a compliment as I can give.

On The Table: White Castle

White Castle showed up on my Top 10 Favorite Games to Play on BGA list last week, and this little worker placement game has become something of an obsession lately. Today, I want to dig a bit deeper into what makes it such a special and truly unique worker placement game.

At its core, White Castle is a dice-driven worker placement game with a heavy focus on tight resource management and a healthy dose of engine building. In other words, it’s a pretty standard Euro game on paper. Nothing about that description should have veteran board gamers falling out of their chairs.

What’s interesting is that White Castle isn’t really the sort of game that normally lands in my wheelhouse. In fact, if you’ve spent any time reading this blog, or glanced at my Top 20 Games of All Time list, you’ll know that Euro games rarely make the cut. When one does, like Dune Imperium or Terraforming Mars, it’s usually because it has earned its keep at my table as one of the very best in the genre.

Terraforming Mars remains a gold standard for Euro games in my book. Through and through, it’s outstanding in every measurable way, the only complaint I have is I don’t play it as often as I would like to. Rich, deep, meaningful gameplay, it’s a masterpiece.

I realize that makes me sound like a bit of a board gaming snob. I promise that’s not the case. I’m perfectly capable of recognizing and appreciating a great game, Euro or otherwise, regardless of genre. It’s just that Euro games often leave me feeling a little cold. They’re usually clever, well-designed, and about as exciting as a tax spreadsheet.

When a Euro game grabs my attention, that says something. When it completely takes over my BGA play history, that says even more. White Castle has done exactly that. I genuinely believe it’s operating in the same league as the genre’s heavy hitters and deserves to be mentioned alongside some of the greats.

I’m still anxiously awaiting my physical copy, but it’s clear as day that this is a very pretty game, albeit a very busy game. I would definitely put it in the “gamers” game category.

There are two things in particular that stand out.

The first is its brilliant use of dice as communal workers that every player draws from. The second is the game’s razor-sharp efficiency. White Castle wastes absolutely nothing. Every action matters, every resource feels precious, and every turn leaves you wishing you had just one more action to pull off your master plan.

It’s a master class in game design.

The Dice Workers

Most worker placement games follow a pretty familiar formula. You have your own pool of workers, your opponents have theirs, and everyone competes for action spaces on the board. That’s the core of the mechanic and, in many games, that’s about where the story ends.

The more interesting examples tend to add something extra. Age of Empires gives players different worker types that create unique opportunities and decisions. Dune Imperium layers deck building and combat on top of its worker placement system, giving players multiple ways to approach the game and interact with one another.

That’s generally where I land on worker placement games. When the mechanic exists in isolation, I often find it a little dry. It’s not that games like Russian Railroads are bad. Far from it. They’re well-designed games with plenty of strategic depth. The problem, at least for me, is that the interaction between players often begins and ends with, “Well, you took the spot I wanted.”

I know that this is a worker placement fan favorite, but it did not fare well for me. It’s a game about railroads, yet they are barely featured in the game, and it’s just a plain, run-of-the-mill worker placement game with absolutetly nothing particularly interesting happening beyond that. It was, in a word, kind of boring.

As a result, many worker placement games start to feel a little one-dimensional over time. The better ones usually find a way to add some extra flavor, some additional layer that transforms the mechanic into something more engaging.

That’s where White Castle surprised me.

At its heart, it’s still a worker placement game. It hasn’t abandoned the formula. Instead, it takes the worker placement mechanic itself and twists it into something far more interesting through its use of communal dice.

The first thing that stands out is that the dice are shared by everyone. Just like the action spaces, the workers themselves are a limited resource. Suddenly, you’re not only competing for the spaces you want to use, but you’re also competing for the workers you want to use on them.

There are a lot of dynamics in White Castle, from the cards that make up the worker placement spots to the value of the dice, no two games are going to be the same, and there is no “base strategy” that is going to work. You really have to assess what is feasible and work with what’s on the table. It’s a new puzzle every time you play.

That alone would be clever, but White Castle goes several steps further.

Each die has three different characteristics that matter.

The first is its value. Depending on where you’re placing it, a high-value die might earn you resources (coins) while a low-value die could cost you precious coins. Sometimes the die you desperately want is also the die you can least afford.

The second is its color. Different locations on the board require different colored dice to activate, which means you’re not simply evaluating numbers. You’re evaluating colors, values, timing, resources, combos, and opportunity all at once.

Then there’s the position of the die on the bridge.

Dice on the right side generally have higher values, making them immediately attractive. Dice on the left, however, grant a secondary action that becomes increasingly valuable as the game progresses. The catch is that taking a die shifts the remaining dice along the bridge. Grab the wrong die, and you might accidentally serve up an incredible opportunity to the next player.

And that’s where White Castle starts to become fascinating.

Every decision feels loaded with consequences, for a worker placement, the interaction goes far beyond “you took my spot”.

Most mechanics are communal in White Castle, but each player does have their own player board where some of your engine-building elements are managed, including some elite spot you might, on occasion, be able to leverage.

Do you take the lower value die on the left to gain the bonus action? Can you afford the resource cost? Are you opening the door for another player to grab exactly what they need? Is there a chain of actions on the board that turns an average move into a great one?

These aren’t decisions you make once or twice during a game. They’re decisions you make every single turn.

What’s remarkable is how much depth emerges from such a simple idea. On paper, you’re just selecting a die and placing it on the board. In practice, every choice feels like a small puzzle packed with tradeoffs, risks, and opportunities.

It’s one of the most elegant worker placement systems I’ve seen in years.

In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if this approach ends up influencing future designs. The idea of communal workers with multiple competing characteristics feels like a genuine step forward for the genre. White Castle takes one of board gaming’s oldest and most familiar mechanisms and somehow makes it feel fresh again.

I was trying to think of a game that White Castle might be compared to, and while it’s a bit of a stretch, it does remind me a little bit of The Red Cathedral.

It’s simply one of the most elegant and exciting worker placement mechanics I have seen come along in a board game in a long time, and I definitely think it’s going to become a thing. You are going to see this in a lot of worker placement games in the future. This is the next evolution of worker placement games.

Now, I should say that I don’t know that this mechanic originated in White Castle; there are tens of thousands of board games out there, so I don’t want to accidentally steal credit from someone by suggesting this is the first invention of its kind, odds are it probably isn’t. Suffice it to say, it’s the first time I have seen it in a game, and I think it’s fantastic.

The Efficiency

The other thing that makes White Castle stand out is just how unbelievably efficient the design is.

This game is tight. Not “Euro game tight.” Not “carefully balanced tight.” I’m talking about the kind of tight where every game feels like you’re attempting a speed run and constantly realizing you’re three moves away from greatness.

Most of the time, you’ll come up short somewhere. You’ll miss a resource, mistime an action, or discover that one seemingly harmless decision three turns ago has come back to haunt you. Then every once in a while, it all clicks together, and the result feels magical.

Without the expansion, you’ll take just nine actions during the entire game. Nine. That’s your whole game.

Nine opportunities to create the most efficient sequence of actions possible and somehow turn a handful of resources, workers, and bonuses into a winning score.

Despite having only 9 actions in a game, your first few play-throughs are going to feel very slow. There are a lot of interactive decisions; the depth here is pretty heavy. Once you get accustomed to the rhythm, though, this game can actually be quite fast. Analysis Paralysis however, is real in this game; people are going to get stuck.

At first, that sounds restrictive. In fact, during your first few games, it feels almost cruel. Some might bounce off the game for that reason, but stick with it because this game is so much more than what you discover on the surface. Surely nine actions can’t possibly be enough. And somehow they are.

What makes White Castle special is how many possibilities exist inside those nine actions. Every move has the potential to trigger another action, generate resources, set up future turns, or create scoring opportunities. The game constantly asks you to squeeze one more drop of value out of every decision.

It’s difficult to fully explain until you’ve experienced it yourself. White Castle is one of those rare games where you finish a session and immediately start replaying your turns in your head. Not because the game was frustrating, but because you can see the path so clearly in the aftermath. You can see where two or three tiny improvements would have transformed a good score into a great one.

That’s the mark of exceptional design.

Great game design isn’t just about knowing what to include. It’s also about knowing what to leave out. White Castle feels like a game that has been refined over and over again until every unnecessary piece was stripped away.

What’s left is a remarkably focused experience where every mechanism serves a purpose and every action matters.

It’s a design that’s elegant, balanced, and incredibly satisfying to explore.

Quite frankly, it’s a chef’s kiss.

Conclusion

I’ll be reviewing White Castle in the near future, but even before putting together a full review, I can already say this much with confidence.

This game is special.

In nearly twelve years of writing for Gamers Dungeon, very few games have seriously threatened a perfect 5 out of 5 score. In fact, only one game has ever achieved it: Blood Rage.

White Castle might just be the second. That’s not a statement I make lightly.

White Castle offers an expansion that is available on BGA called White Castle Matcha, and honestly, once you know the game and try this expansion, it will be hard to imagine playing without it. It’s one of those rare cases where it feels like this expansion probably should have been included in the base game. I didn’t think so at first, probably because I tried it too early, but it’s made me a believer!

If you’re a fan of Euro games, this should already be on your radar. If you’re a fan of worker placement games, it absolutely needs to be. White Castle takes a familiar genre and manages to make it feel fresh, challenging, and exciting again.

That’s a rare achievement.

This is one of the best worker placement games I’ve played in years.

And that’s not praise I hand out very often.

Top 10 Favorite Games To Play On BoardGameArena.com

People are always telling me that I should do more Top 10 lists. They’re a staple of the hobby, and to be fair, I used to write a lot more of them in the past. I get it, I like them too. The problem is that whenever I sit down to make one, I inevitably end up recreating some version of my annual Top 20 Games of all time list. After a while, it starts to feel less like a new article and more like I’m just changing the title and hoping nobody notices.

This year, however, I’ve spent a lot more time playing games on Board Game Arena, the digital board gaming site. If you’ve never used it and are a board game fan, you definitely should give it a go. It’s probably one of the best resources available for trying games before deciding whether they’re worth buying. The library is enormous, especially if you’re a fan of Eurogames, and there’s always something new to discover as games are added all the time.

One of the unexpected benefits of BGA is that it exposes me to games I would not ordinarily pick up and probably not otherwise ever try. Some of those games have turned out to be absolute gems. Even more interesting, certain games actually play better online than they do on the table. Some games are fiddly with endless bookkeeping, complicated scoring, or enough upkeep to qualify as a part-time job. When all of that is automated, a game can suddenly become a much smoother and more enjoyable experience online than it ever could offline.

In fact, I’ve caught myself saying, “I don’t really like that game… but I love playing it online.” Which, as strange as it sounds, I actually find to be true quite often.

So that’s exactly what this list is. These are my current 10 favorite games to play on BGA. Some of them are games I already loved, some of them surprised me, and a few are games that I enjoy far more online than I ever would around a physical table.

1. Great Western Trail

This is one of my favorite games of all time. It has appeared on my annual Best Of lists for years, and I do not expect it to disappear anytime soon. What’s interesting, however, is that unlike many of the other games on this list, this is one I actually play very often online but rarely offline. A big part of that is thanks to the excellent Board Game Arena implementation. This is a case of the game being a bit of a pain to teach, and it’s quite fiddly on the table and can be quite long. BBG kind of fixes all that for you.

It’s difficult to point to any specific mechanic in Great Western Trail that keeps pulling me back; There is a hand management element, resource management, and traditional victory point salad. Other than the way you move being a bit unique in the game, there is nothing particularly standout about the mechanics. I think it’s more of a general strategic options thing, everything put together at once. The sheer volume of strategic possibilities GW offers demands a lot of exploration; it goes quite deep. Even after 118 plays, I’m still discovering new ways to win and combo, but more often than I would like, new ways to lose.

A big part of your success in Great Western Trail is timing, landing on the right building at the right time, and doing that consistently is the puzzle and it’s not easy to unravel.

My history with the game is a little unusual. My original review was far from glowing. It took several more plays after this review before I really understood what the game was trying to do, and even longer before I truly appreciated just how brilliant it is. It is part of a very small number of games on this site that I have ever gone back on and re-reviewed.

At its core, this is a tight resource management game that rewards careful planning, efficient turns, and long-term strategic thinking. Success often comes from anticipating your opponents’ plans and finding ways to exploit the opportunities they create, an aspect of the game I adore.

My endorsement here is of the highest order!

2. White Castle

This was a relatively recent discovery for me, but wow, does this game deliver.

At its heart, White Castle is a tight worker-placement and resource-management victory-point salad game, a classic Euro formula. What makes it stand out is its shared dice pool. Players aren’t just competing for action spaces; they’re competing for the dice that power those actions as well, creating a sort of duality to the worker placement formula.

The result is a surprisingly interactive experience. Every turn feels like you’re making a multifaceted decision with significant impact both on your own position and denying opportunities to your opponents but on multiple fronts. It’s one of the more confrontational worker placement games I’ve played that doesn’t rely on cheap direct attacks or “take that” mechanics, like, for example, Lords of Waterdeep.

I love Lords of Waterdeep, but it can be a pretty mean-spirited game; getting slapped with a mandatory quest has a way of unraveling what is otherwise a pretty cordial and competitive worker placement game. I just don’t think it needed this mechanic.

What really sold me, though, is just how tight the design is. Every resource, every action, every position is part of a grand strategic design, and there is absolutetly no room for error. You literally will take 9 actions in the entire game. The game rewards careful planning, clever sequencing, and the ability to squeeze every last drop of value out of your turn. It’s the kind of game where you finish a session and immediately start thinking about what you should have done differently.

This game is challenging on several levels. The learning curve, getting your head around the strategy, unlearning all the stuff you thought was true, and then re-learning the game for real. It’s a brain buster, but absolutetly worth the effort.

In fact, this was one of the very few games I discovered on Board Game Arena that led directly to me buying a physical copy. That’s about as strong an endorsement as I can give.

If you enjoy deep, challenging worker placement games that reward smart play and punish sloppy decisions, White Castle is an absolute winner.

I should talk a bit about the expansion because this is also available on BGA. White Castle: Matcha introduces a 4th dice type and some new actions and cards that take this already pretty deep game and tight game and open it up a bit. It definitely complicates, and while I like I would not recommend it unless you’re playing this game on repeat and need something fresh. In that way, it’s a perfect expansion, as it does exactly what expansions should do: refresh a game you already like.

I’m generally very wary of expansions to games I already think are quite perfect, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. In this case, however, as this game can feel pretty short with only 9 actions per player, it pushes that a bit as players get 4 actions instead of 3 per round. It remains a tight game with 12 actions in the game, but if you want more White Castle, this is the way to do. It does what it should as an expansion.

3. Shogun

Let me start with a confession.

I think Shogun is better in person, making this an exception to the general rule of this list.

In fact, if given the choice, I would almost always rather play it at a real table. The reason is simple: the dice tower.

That ridiculous contraption is one of the greatest gimmicks ever put into a board game. Every battle becomes an event. Players gather around it, cheer for impossible outcomes, groan at disasters, and generally make far more noise than any sensible adult should. It is glorious.

So yes, something is inevitably lost when you move Shogun online.

And yet, the Board Game Arena implementation is excellent.

The reason it still works so well is that beneath the spectacle, Shogun is also a fantastic strategy game. It remains one of my all-time favorites and one of the oldest titles in my collection.

So far as “Dudes On A Map” games go, this is one of my favorites. With a few exceptions, simply moving armies around and fighting is not enough for me, a war game has to have some strategic juice coming from somewhere else. In Shogun’s case, that is the action planning system, and in my humble opinion, it’s perfect.

At first glance, it looks like a straightforward dudes on a map conflict. Armies move around Japan, provinces are conquered, and players fight for territory. Simple enough, but the game is much more than that.

The twist is that, hidden beneath all that military posturing, is a surprisingly tight victory-point driven game. Scoring opportunities are limited, which means every point matters. Taking territory is important, but taking the right territory at the right moment is what actually wins games because, as the game progresses, players build point-scoring buildings in territories, dramatically increasing their value.

Then there is the action planning system. Every round, players secretly assign a whole series of actions in advance, often with incomplete information and only a rough idea of what everyone else is about to do. It is a brilliant mechanic that turns every turn into a mixture of strategy, prediction, and outright gambling, culminating in beautiful chaos.

You can devise a master plan worthy of a legendary daimyo. Or you can watch that plan collapse spectacularly because your opponent did something unexpected. Or because the dice tower decided it was feeling particularly mischievous that day. Probably both.

The combination of area control, hidden planning, resource management, and unpredictable battles creates a game that is constantly generating memorable stories. It is strategic enough to reward careful planning, chaotic enough to keep players humble, and interactive enough that nobody ever feels like they are playing a multiplayer solitaire game.

Shogun is one of those rare games that has stood the test of time for a reason. If you have never played it, you should. If you enjoy area control games, you should probably own it.

And if your gaming shelf currently contains Risk because you wanted a conquest, dudes on a map game, I would argue that Shogun is superior in every measurable way and solves that need far more elegantly.

4. Knarr

Knarr is one of those games that seemed to slip past a lot of people when it was released, myself included. It’s a shame because it’s a bonefied hidden gem and smash hit as far as I’m concerned.

Mechanically, it’s a straightforward tableau-based, card-driven engine builder wrapped up in a race for victory points. On paper, there isn’t a lot going on here, mechanically it’s simple and streamlined. In practice, however, the game offers far more strategic depth than its light rules would suggest.

One of the things I love most about Knarr is that it’s sort of a risk vs. reward style game when it comes to your strategy. Your options are to go for the slow burn and explosive end, hoping you will get to execute that final big turn for the win, or you race to finish to outpace people building proper engines, creating pressure on everyone. Once you commit to a path, you are largely along for the ride. The game is simply too short to completely change direction halfway through, so success often comes down to reading the table, spotting opportunities, and trusting your instincts in the early game.

Knarr is a fast-moving game, but whatever your strategy is in any given game, one thing that makes or breaks you is getting the right combination of trade routes and being able to execute them regularly. This requires a lot of planning and a bit of luck.

There is certainly a bit of luck involved. You can’t control what cards will appear, and part of the challenge is figuring out how to make the best use of whatever opportunities are currently available. The best players are not necessarily the ones with the perfect plan, but the ones who can adapt when the cards refuse to cooperate. Reading people’s options is also fairly important here.

Perhaps the biggest compliment I can give Knarr is that one game is rarely enough. Whenever my regular online group plays a round, it’s rare that someone doesn’t immediately demand a rematch. It’s addictive, occasionally frustrating, and consistently entertaining. This is a game that will keep your gaming group up late every time. I’ve had many painful mornings because of this one.

Knarr went straight from Board Game Arena to my shopping cart. It’s easy to learn, easy to teach, accessible enough for newer players, and still offers plenty of depth for experienced gamers. The expansion adds a lot to the game; if you get a chance to grab it, it’s a no-brainer.

An outstanding game and one that deserves far more attention than it’s gotten since its release.

5. Middle Ages

I should probably begin this entry with a disclaimer. I have only played Middle Ages three four times.

As a result, its appearance on this list may be a little premature. There is every possibility that six months from now I will discover some fatal flaw and wonder what I was thinking.

That said, based on what I have seen so far, I really like it.

What immediately stands out is how unique the game feels; it’s not a mechanic I have seen before. There are plenty of games that ask players to plan ahead, but Middle Ages builds its entire identity around that concept.

The core mechanic is a bit odd, but ultimately fairly simple. Each round, you choose the action you will perform next round while simultaneously resolving the action you selected during the previous round. The action you choose next round will determine the turn order and will determine which building you put into play, how you score, and what special action you can take. You can see what buildings will be available 4 rounds in advance. The trick to the entire game is knowing how to navigate a clean path that yields the most victory points through building combinations by predicting what your opponents are going to do and what will be available on your turn. Do that well consistently and you are going to wint his game.

If that explanation sounds confusing, it’s because it is, and this game will seem very complex the first time you play it. It’s really not; that impression fades quickly.

One of the tricky parts about Middle Ages is that it will punish you severely for not having a building of each type (each missing building is -10 points), so whatever your strategy is, it has to include completing your medieval town, else you’re kind of screwed.

In fact, learning and teaching the game is probably harder than actually playing it. I remember being thoroughly confused the first time I sat down with it. Thankfully, once you get over that first game hump, everything clicks surprisingly quickly. Beneath the awkward explanation lies a remarkably straightforward game.

The real magic comes from the timing.

Many of the actions are surprisingly confrontational, creating plenty of opportunities to disrupt plans, steal opportunities, and generally make life difficult for everyone else at the table. It creates a wonderfully dynamic experience where long-term planning is important, but short-term flexibility is equally valuable.

Of course, if everyone else is trying to do the same thing, things can get delightfully messy. Which is where much of the fun comes from.

Four games is hardly enough time to form a definitive opinion, but Middle Ages has already made a strong impression on me. It is clever, interactive, surprisingly tense, and refreshingly different from many of the other games currently making the rounds.

Ask me again after ten more plays…but yeah, for now, I think it’s good.

6. The Castles of Burgundy

This is another game that firmly belongs in my “great on Board Game Arena, probably not for my collection” category.

The Castles of Burgundy hardly needs an introduction. For more than a decade, board gamers have been singing its praises from every rooftop available. It remains one of the hobby’s most celebrated Eurogames and continues to sit comfortably among the highest-ranked games of all time on BoardGameGeek.

To be fair, I completely understand why.

In Castles of Burgundy, it’s not just about building that perfect hex board, but doing it in a timely fashion. When you do stuff often matters a lot more than what you do.

The game is incredibly clever. Every turn presents you with a simple challenge: here are your dice, now figure out something smart to do with them. It sounds straightforward, but the sheer number of options available creates a deeply satisfying puzzle, and a puzzle is exactly what this game is.

Unlike certain other famous dice games (fuck you Catan!) that I could happily launch into the sun, The Castles of Burgundy never feels like it is actively trying to ruin your day. Yes, the dice can be frustrating. They will occasionally betray you. They will occasionally mock you. But the game gives you plenty of tools to manipulate results, mitigate bad luck, and salvage a plan that has gone horribly wrong.

I’m not saying that Catan is a bad game; its popularity is clearly established. I’m just saying, “please trade with me so I can win” is a stupid concept, as is any game where you roll dice to get resources. Combined, I find the game annoying to play.

Success comes from finding opportunities, building combinations, and squeezing as much value as possible from every action. Like any great point salad game, there are dozens of paths to victory and just as many opportunities to accidentally wander off a cliff.

What I find particularly amusing is that, despite genuinely enjoying the game, I have yet to finish anywhere other than last place.

Normally, that would be a warning sign. Instead, I find myself wanting to play more.

Every loss feels less like a defeat and more like a challenge. Somewhere inside this elegant machine is a strategy that works. Other players seem capable of finding it with alarming consistency. One day, I intend to join them.

Until then, while I’m late to the party, The Castles of Burgundy remains a great BGA discovery. I’m not sure I will ever own a copy, but I can fully understand why people love this game.

It vexes me.

And I shall prevail.

7. Beyond The Sun

Beyond The Sun is another game on this list that falls firmly into the “I keep playing it because I find it fascinating” category, but I doubt I would ever buy it.

Whether I actually love it or not remains an open question.

What I can say with confidence is that it is… interesting in an academic, connoisseur of board games kind of way.

The best way I can describe Beyond The Sun is that it feels like two only vaguely related games somehow got stitched together and, against all odds, the result actually works.

On one side of the board, players compete over a sprawling technology tree through a worker placement system. Researching new technologies unlocks powerful abilities, creating entirely new worker placement spaces that only the player who discovered them can use. Much of your overall strategy is shaped by how you navigate this constantly evolving network of technologies.

On the other side of the board, there is a surprisingly aggressive little space conquest game taking place. Fleets move around the galaxy, players compete for influence, and planets are eventually colonized for valuable rewards and endgame objectives.

What makes it all work is that both halves of the game share the same economy. The actions you take on the technology board fuel your expansion efforts in space, while success in space provides resources and opportunities that feed back into your technological development.

This game looks super fiddly to me, I suspect that playing it on BGA is probobly takes considerably less time to play, which is the case with most games, but the fiddlier it is, the more valuable a BGA implementation becomes.

The whole experience feels like an enormous efficiency puzzle.

There is player interaction. In fact, the space board can become downright hostile at times. Yet somehow, despite ships moving around and players competing for territory, most of your attention remains focused on optimizing your own engine and finding the most efficient sequence of actions possible.

That contrast is part of what makes the game so interesting. It feels interactive without being overly confrontational. Competitive without being particularly emotional.

And fascinating throughout.

The funny thing is that I am still not entirely sure whether I would call Beyond The Sun “fun.” I know that sounds absurd, given the amount of time I have spent playing it, but there is a difference between enjoying something and being intellectually captivated by it.

Beyond The Sun falls into that second category for me.

Every game leaves me wanting to explore a different technology path, try a different strategy, or see how another combination of systems might unfold. It is the kind of design that keeps provoking questions long after the game is over.

That curiosity alone has earned it a place on this list. I don’t know if I would recommend it as a purchase, but on BGA you should definitely try it, especially if you have an academic curiosity about board game design.

8. Aquatica

Aquatica occupies a similar space on this list as Beyond The Sun, an academic curiosity more than a fun game.

I am not entirely convinced that I love it. I am not even completely convinced that I would describe it as fun or even a good game.

And yet, I keep playing it.

That probably sounds like a terrible endorsement, but hear me out.

Again, as a self-proclaimed connoisseur of board game design, I find Aquatica fascinating. There is something about its unusual approach to engine building that continues to pull me back in. I have logged over a dozen games so far, and I am still trying to fully wrap my head around what makes it tick.

At its core, Aquatica is a tableau-building card game where players are constantly trying to create temporary engines from whatever cards happen to be available at the time. The experience feels less like constructing a finely tuned machine and more like creating temporary boosts that you hope will have a domino effect.

This is a very pretty game; the artwork is fantastic. It may ultimately become the reason I want a real copy.

I think that is the unique spark here that your tableau, the cards you buy, is a temporary resource in your engine. Unlike many engine builders, where you gradually assemble a powerful machine that produces increasing returns throughout the game, Aquatica lets you use a resource once, and then you kind of have to start over. Your engine is constantly changing shape, firing off effects, collapsing, and being rebuilt into something entirely different.

The result is a game that feels surprisingly dynamic. Every turn becomes a puzzle involving the cards in your hand, the cards available for purchase, and the opportunities hidden within your tableau. Plans rarely survive intact for very long, and adaptation is often more important than execution. Other players can also alter the board state in front of you, which creates another uncontrolled layer to the puzzle.

It is a strange design that sort of skirts expectations.

One thing I have heard repeatedly, although I cannot personally verify it, is that Aquatica can be somewhat fiddly when played physically. If true, it is exactly the sort of game that benefits enormously from Board Game Arena handling all the bookkeeping behind the scenes. Though I have to say this is not the best interface on BGA, it can be a bit fiddly here as well.

Whether Aquatica ultimately becomes a favorite of mine remains to be seen. What I can say is that very few games have managed to keep me this curious after so many plays.

That alone makes it worth trying.

Give it a shot. It might not capture your imagination the way it has captured mine, but if it does, do not be surprised if you find yourself queueing up “just one more game” while trying to figure out what on earth makes it so compelling.

9. Harmonies

Harmonies is a perfect example of a game I would never buy, but am more than happy to play on Board Game Arena.

That is not a criticism of the game. Quite the opposite, actually. Harmonies is an excellent design. The reality is simply that it lives well outside my usual gaming preferences. An abstract puzzle game about building habitats for animals is not exactly the sort of thing that normally finds its way onto my shelf.

More importantly, I know my gaming group.

If I brought Harmonies to game night, everyone would give it a fair shot. We would play a game, nod appreciatively, make a few comments about how clever it is, and then immediately return to conquering empires, managing medieval economies, or fighting over cubes. The game would quietly disappear into the collection and never see daylight again.

Board Game Arena changes that completely.

Online, Harmonies becomes the perfect middle-weight filler game. It is quick, engaging, easy to set up, and delivers just the right amount of brain burn without demanding an entire evening. It is the kind of game I am always happy to squeeze in between heavier titles.

If it looks puzzly, believe it, it is very puzzly; it should come with a warning label, because this game will melt your brain.

The gameplay itself is wonderfully clever. Players build habitats using colorful terrain pieces while drafting animal cards that reward specific patterns and arrangements. Every turn feels like a small puzzle, with multiple competing priorities fighting for space on your board. There are animal objectives to complete, bonus scoring opportunities to chase, and just enough point salad sprinkled throughout to keep you second-guessing every placement.

It is thoughtful, satisfying, occasionally frustrating, and surprisingly addictive. The kind of game that makes your brain hurt just enough to remind you that you are having fun.

I may never own Harmonies, but I am always happy to see it hit the virtual table.

10. Lost Ruins of Arnak

I feel obligated to include Lost Ruins of Arnak on this list. I am doing so under protest.

Let’s get this out of the way immediately: it is a good game. In fact, it is probably a very good game. The design is clever, the decisions are meaningful, and there is clearly a tremendous amount of depth hiding beneath its relatively approachable exterior.

The problem is that Lost Ruins of Arnak and I are currently involved in a bitter personal feud. After eighteen plays, I have yet to win a game.

Not only have I failed to win, but I have rarely come close. At this point, I am less an explorer searching for ancient ruins and more an archaeologist excavating the remains of my own shattered confidence.

I’ve heard the claim that this game is like Dune Imperium, and while I can see why people might say that, it’s not nearly as streamlined, and this has a far bigger learning curve.

What makes this particularly frustrating is that the game does not appear especially complicated or novel.

Mechanically, Arnak is built from familiar ingredients. There is deck building. There is worker placement. There are tracks to move up. There is resource management. None of these concepts are new, and individually they are all things I understand perfectly well.

Yet somehow, when combined together, they form a mysterious puzzle box that my brain simply refuses to open.

I watch other players effortlessly chain actions together, convert resources into other resources, advance research tracks, discover sites, recruit assistants, and somehow continue taking turns long after I have passed and started questioning my life choices.

Most of the time I don’t even understand how I lost. I simply know that at the end of the game everyone else has more points than I do.

Repeatedly.

To be fair, I completely understand why Arnak has such a devoted following. It is one of the most celebrated games of the last several years, and an incredibly polished design. Every mechanism feels carefully crafted and intentionally connected to the others. It is easy to see why so many people consider it a modern classic.

I just happen to be standing outside the secret clubhouse, pressing my face against the window and wondering what everyone else is so excited about.

Eventually, I will return. I will once again venture into the jungle. I will once again attempt to decipher its mysteries.

And perhaps one day I will finally discover the ancient secret that allows a player to score points.

Until then, Lost Ruins of Arnak sits at the bottom of this list as punishment for being naughty and refusing to let me win.

I am aware that this is not how rankings work.

I stand by my decision.

Review: Finspan – (2025)

Finspan is the third entry in the growing and rather oddly named “Span” series, following award-winning Wingspan and the more fantasy-leaning and complex Wyrmspan. This time, instead of birds or dragons, the focus shifts underwater to diving and collecting fish.

Before getting into it, a bit of transparency. I came into this review without any real attachment to the series. I had not played Wingspan or Wyrmspan beforehand, so I am not coming at this as a long-time fan or someone already invested in what these games are trying to do. For me it’s a new game and a first go at the series, open mind, no preconceived notions.

That said, I did spend some time with Wingspan while preparing this review. I felt it was important to have that point of comparison, a bit of context for this review, as clearly, fans of Wingspans are going to be eyeing this one. If I were to summarize that experience, I think the best review I could give it is that it left me…. wanting. I will talk a little bit about why that is later in this review, as we make some comparisons between Wingspan and Finspan.

Wingspan was a runaway hit in 2019, winning a laundry list of awards and rising to the status of “classic” in a short span of 5 years. (no pun intended). It is a bona fide success story in the world of board games and continues to be one of the most talked-about and often played games in the hobby.

Finspan, however, is where things get interesting, albeit only slightly. While Wingspan and Finspan share a lot of the same core ideas and structure, they do not necessarily deliver the same experience. For better or worse, Finspan is a much simpler game, focused on being a kind of more accessible version of Wingspan with its own unique theme, and this is quite obvious from the onset. In fact, it could arguably earn the label of a gateway game were it not for a couple of quirky elements.

There are, however, other more subtle differences beyond the simplified gameplay and approachability of the game; the most notable thing that stood out to me is why Finspan is not just simply a 2-player version of Wingspan with a different theme. I can’t stress how different the experience is between a 2-player game and a 3+ player game.

I think the strangest thing about my experience with Finspan is how vastly worse the game got with more players. My initial experiences with the game were a two-player affair, and I have to admit, while the game was simple and a little outside of my genre preference, I still enjoyed it. It was a pretty quick, fun little engine builder and victory point salad with a charming theme and colorful components. It was… simply put, kind of fun.

Then I tried Finspan with 4 players, and it was like being run over by an ice cream truck. I like ice cream, just not from this angle. It was a dismal slog that overstayed its welcome by nearly an hour, and there was quite literally no payoff to it, not just because there is virtually no interaction between players, but there was a ton of downtime, and it swallowed up a stupid amount of table space. It was just outright boring and slow.

One thing I can say is that when playing Finspan, due largely to the lack of interaction between players, one way you can expedite a game with more players like this would be to just have everyone do their turns simultaneously. Rarely will anything anyone does on their turn affect you, so there is no logical reason why you couldn’t do this.

That contrast is difficult to review because I want to tell you that I really like Finspan, my daughter and I have played it several times, we had a lot of fun, and it continues to hit the table long after my obligation to write this review ended. That said, there is absolutetly no way I will ever play this game with more than 2 players again, because that was a truly painful experience. So does that make Finspan a good game or a bad one? It’s tricky.

I think to tackle this review, we have to answer some questions here to put things into context. Does Finspan stand on its own within this series? Is it different enough to justify a place alongside the other games? And perhaps more importantly, who is it really for?

Spoiler alert! While Finspan does look a bit complicated in a screenshot like this, the reality is, it’s mechanically a fairly simple game, something you can teach to just about anyone.

Today, we sort all that out. Let’s get into it!

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star(3.05) Good Game!

The first thing that struck me about Finspan was how bold and vibrant it looks on the table. The colors really pop, and once everything is laid out, the game becomes a genuine visual feast. It immediately made a stronger impression on me than Wingspan ever did in that regard.

Bright, colorful, beautiful! The importance and impact of eye candy as a part of a game’s appeal should not be underestimated. Finspan sticks the landing here without question.

Now, to be fair, I do enjoy fishing as a hobby, so I was naturally more drawn to the theme here than Wingspan’s birds. Drawing a fish card you have caught and eaten before adds a kind of charm to the experience. There is also the fact that my experience with Wingspan was digital, played on Board Game Arena, which I personally think is not a great way to get the right first impression of a tabletop board game, while Finspan was played physically at the table. That difference alone likely plays a role in how each game landed for me. Fortunately, I’m not here to review Wingspan; we are here to talk about Finspan, and while I think a comparison is a valid addition to a review in a game in a series, I don’t think it matters how much I did or didn’t like Wingspan.

In Finspan, each round you take one of two actions. Either you play a fish card from your hand into your player board or you go diving down one of three columns representing, I guess, different types of dives (reef, coast, and open ocean?).

When you play a fish card, you typically get a one-time “when played effect,” or you get an ability you will activate each time you make a dive in the zone that the fish is in.

Additionally, each fish is worth a certain amount of points and has a wide range of potential attributes that are sort of collected for certain types of scoring opportunities that are available each round of play.

When you dive, you activate all the fish in the column that you activated, gaining various rewards like drawing cards, laying fish eggs, and stuff like that. All the little point scoring levers.

There are, of course, a few other little auxiliary things to the game, but that is more or less the gist of it. A lot of this probably sounds very familiar to Wingspan players because it’s mostly the same routine.

Beyond the much-improved presentation, Finspan felt noticeably smoother to play than Wingspan. The game is more streamlined and easier to grasp, both when learning it yourself and when teaching it to others. It takes several of the core ideas from Wingspan, trims away some of what I feel were rough edges, and presents them in a cleaner, more efficient way. The result is a game that flows better and gets out of its own way. Perhaps more accurately, the game is a lot more newbie-friendly, being the lightest variant in the series.

That said, like Wingspan, Finspan is a very solitary experience. While there are occasional moments where another player’s action might give you a small incidental benefit, there is little reason to pay close attention to what others are doing. For the most part, you are focused entirely on your own board, your own cards, and your own engine.

For me, this is probably the game’s biggest weakness, especially when playing with more than one other player. Player interaction is extremely limited, but the downtime and the length of the game increase dramatically with each added player.

At three to five players, it often feels like you are playing a solo game where you simply wait for others to take their turns, even though what they do has no impact on your own decisions.

That may not be a flaw for everyone, though. In fact, I suspect this is exactly what fans of Wingspan enjoy. Finspan delivers that same kind of energy, a quiet race to build the most efficient engine and score the most points. As a 2-player game, a race to victory points like this, where you have quick back-and-forth uninteractive turns, makes sense, but in a 3 or 4 player game, it’s just painful waiting for your turn.

I recently discovered White Castle, an amazing worker placement game that utilizes dice, and this is exactly the sort of interaction-based victory point salad I’m talking about. This game has tension, moves, and counter moves; it’s a race, and it’s super tight. This is one of those games where something someone else did on the board can ruin your day or open an opportunity that might end up winning you the game. I love that kind of tense exchange.

Despite the simplicity of the actions you can take on your turn, the game offers a fair amount of depth as a puzzle. There is a huge variety of fish (cards), each with unique powers that create lots of interesting engine puzzles to solve. Figuring out how to make the most of what you are given is where the game finds its replay value; it’s a very addictive and repeatable experience.

One area where Finspan clearly improves on Wingspan is resource management. Wingspan uses a dice tower as a shared pool of food, which introduces a level of randomness that can feel out of place in an otherwise controlled system. Finspan shifts the focus to cards as your primary resource (discarding cards to play other cards), which reduces both luck and downtime. It becomes more about planning and decision making, and less about hoping for the right roll.

In Wingspan, I thought the dice tower, while cool aesthetically, was the weakest part of the game. The impact of randomized resources really shifts Wingspan from a deterministic strategy game to a bit of a gamble. I wasn’t a fan of it at all.

I prefer games with more interaction, a bit of tension, and at least some level of confrontation. When I sit down for a board game night, I want a reason to react to what the people around the table are doing. Finspan, for all its strengths, leans more toward a personal puzzle than a shared experience. That lack of impact of other players being at the table with you weakens the experience a great deal for me, especially in larger player counts.

Bottom line is that it’s an engine-building victory point salad game, with minimal interaction and zero confrontation. Because it’s easy to learn and teach, being a much lighter game than Wingspan, it’s kind of a perfect introduction to the series and a great introduction to board games in general.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: Bright, colorful, and altogether a visual feast.  Great rulebooks!

Cons: With larger player counts, this game takes up a lot of relestate

Finspan is a very pretty game. It looks fantastic on the table, and the components, especially the iconography, are exceptionally well executed. As a whole, it is a pleasure to lay out and play with.

I am a bit of a stickler when it comes to iconography. When done well, it is far superior to heavy text, making games faster to learn and easier to read at a glance. That said, there is definitely a tipping point where too much iconography becomes overwhelming. A perfect example is Race for the Galaxy, which remains one of my least favorite games to teach for exactly that reason.

Fortunately, Finspan finds the right balance. The iconography does a lot of the heavy lifting, but never feels cluttered or confusing. It makes learning and teaching the game remarkably smooth, supported by a rulebook that is clear, concise, and refreshingly easy to follow. I can comfortably teach this game in about five minutes and have everyone up and running without any friction.

Iconography can be a curse or a blessing. I really love playing Race For The Galaxy, but teaching it is a nightmare, and overkill on iconography is the root cause. Once you get it, it’s fantastic, but if you want to play it with me, watch a YouTube video!

My biggest gripe with this game’s components is their size; again, this applies only to games with more than 2-players, but the amount of table space it takes up is kind of insane. I shit you not to play this 5-player game; you will need about as much room as you would need for a 6-player Twilight Imperium game. I assure you, most people do not have a big enough table to play this game with a full player count. I’m not sure how this didn’t come up during play testing.

I’m not sure “taking up too much space,” however, is a rating-reducing offense. For the most part, this game is beautiful, as a gamer, that counts for a lot in my book.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros:  While marine enthusiasts and divers might not agree, I think Finspan nails a fun, gratifying fishy theme

Cons:  The enthusiasm for the theme gets dragged down by larger player counts.

I was not expecting Finspan to be particularly thematic when I opened the box, and I am still not entirely convinced that it is in the traditional sense. That said, there is a certain charm to it that just works.

Every card represents a unique fish, and that alone gives the game a subtle collectible feel. Playing them onto your board and then activating them as you dive adds a layer of satisfaction that is hard to fully explain, but easy to appreciate once you are in it.

When it comes to theme, Finspan sticks the landing like an Olympic gymnast; I’m not sure how you would improve it, considering the subject matter, but it’s fair to say I’m no expert in diving or fish, so I’m speaking mostly to the aesthetic.

Whether that qualifies as “thematic” is up for debate. I am no expert on diving or marine life, but the combination of the theme and the simple, approachable gameplay creates an experience that feels cohesive and inviting.

This is also the kind of game I could comfortably put in front of non-boardgamers without much hesitation. It is easy to grasp, visually appealing, and does not come with the usual baggage that might scare people off. It feels like a family game, though probably best suited for a smaller group.

That is really where the theme feels strongest. At two players, and to a lesser extent three, the rhythm of drawing cards, diving, and scoring points flows nicely. The game moves at a pace where the experience feels engaging, and before anything becomes repetitive, you are already wrapping up and counting points.

Once you push beyond that player count, the experience starts to lose some of that charm. Drawing a card and being excited about the fish you got kind of loses its luster when you’re doing it once every ten minutes. The pacing slows so much at higher player counts that whatever thematic immersion the game builds begins to fade.

So yes, I would say Finspan does deliver a thematic experience, but much like other aspects of the game, it works best at two players, maybe three. Beyond that, the magic starts to slip away.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Solid, easy to learn and teach engine builder with a very streamlined and satisfying game loop.

Cons: Lacks meaningful interaction and is an absolute drag at larger player counts.

Finspan does several things that I think are genuinely clever, but three elements in particular stand out as major improvements over the original concept established by Wingspan. Now, I have not played Wyrmspan, so I cannot say how much of that game carries over here, but it is very clear to me that Finspan aims to be a more streamlined and accessible version of the same core design philosophy, and for the most part, I think it succeeds.

After trying Finspan and seeing some potential in the series, despite my less-than-stellar experience with Wingspan, I think Wyrmspan is worth a go. Who doesn’t love dragons?!

The first thing that stands out is the sheer variety of beautifully illustrated fish cards. Every fish feels distinct, and there are countless combinations and strategic uses for them. Building your engine by carefully adding fish to your board is consistently satisfying, and watching those synergies come together is where much of the game’s appeal lives.

I would actually argue that Finspan handles this far better than Wingspan. The strategic role of each card is more intuitive and immediately understandable. You can glance at a fish and quickly grasp what it is trying to accomplish, both the short-term boost and how it fits into a long-term strategy. Wingspan’s cards are not necessarily more complicated, but I often found their place within the broader strategy less obvious and harder to piece together naturally. Admittedly, my experience with Wingspan is limited, but when playing Finspan, it was so obvious and easy to decode that it all just felt more intuitive. I did not have that experience with Wingspan.

The second major improvement is resource management. Finspan feels far more deterministic, which makes it feel like a strategy game first and a gamble second.

I do not mind randomness in games when it creates tension or memorable moments, but my experience with Wingspan was that the randomness often blocked me from executing the strategy I actually wanted to pursue. The dice tower resource system felt clumsy to me because the unpredictability existed in the worst possible place, resource generation itself. It constantly interrupted planning. It reminded me a little too much of Catan, and that is not a compliment coming from me.

I love dice towers, I’m using the word love here! But it has to be executed in a way that doesn’t undermine the game’s core decision-making. In Dirk Henn’s Shogun, the dice tower is used to determine who wins the fight. It’s used at a time when all of your strategy and planning is already in place; now it’s time to see if it works. That’s exciting, it’s fun. Rolling a die to see if you get the resources you need to execute a strategy you want is less strategy and more gambling. I just don’t think it works in Wingspan.

Finspan handles this much better. Your cards and your board effectively become your resources, and there is far less randomness interfering with your plans. You are making deliberate decisions instead of simply hoping things line up correctly. When your strategy works, it feels earned. It feels like good planning rather than good luck.

The third improvement is how the game handles scoring objectives and long-term planning. In Wingspan, I often felt that bonus objectives came down to luck. You could not reliably plan around them because card access and resource access were too inconsistent. Even when you got the cards you wanted, you still had to hope the resource system cooperated enough to let you actually play them in time for it to matter.

In Finspan, those same goals feel much more achievable and controllable. The bonus objectives are clearer, more direct, and easier to intentionally build toward. Because the game gives you greater control over your resources and a wider range of useful card options, planning ahead becomes far more rewarding. You are rarely forced into awkward short-term plays simply to chase points. Instead, your decisions feel connected to a broader strategy.

While fish cards score their share of points, one of the primary ways you are going to dramatically increase your score is by completing the weekly objectives (each round). This is a key to the game, and it’s what you are building your engine for primarily.

From beginning to end, Finspan simply feels more like a true strategy game than Wingspan ever did to me.

That was a lot of comparison, though, so let’s talk about Finspan on its own terms.

One of the game’s greatest strengths is its streamlined gameplay loop. On your turn, you are essentially making one of two choices: play a fish card or go diving, a strength it shares with the rest of the series. I love it when games with genuine strategic depth keep their core actions simple and easy to understand. It allows new players to grasp the structure quickly and start thinking about meaningful decisions almost immediately.

Finspan excels here. It is lightweight, approachable, and easy to teach, but those two simple actions create a surprising amount of depth over the course of the game. The pacing feels clean and efficient, and mechanically, I think the game absolutely sticks the landing.

That said, I have already touched on what I see as the game’s biggest issue, the lack of interaction between players. At two players, I find this much easier to tolerate because the game moves quickly enough to maintain momentum. But even then, what other players do on their turns rarely matters to you in any meaningful way.

The bigger issue is not just the lack of interaction, but the inability to affect another player’s progress at all. If someone builds a stronger engine than you, there is essentially nothing you can do about it. You cannot interfere, slow them down, block them, react, or force them to adapt. Everyone is simply building their own machine in parallel.

Because of that, playing with other people often feels functionally identical to playing solo, only slower. That is probably my biggest criticism of the game because it undermines some of the excitement generated by the otherwise excellent engine-building mechanics.

I also found the game strangely lacking in tension. Since scoring is mostly hidden until the end, you rarely have a sense of whether you are winning or losing during play. Combined with the lack of player interaction, the entire experience can feel a little too gentle and detached for my tastes.

Hidden scoring, I think, in general, is a bad idea in all games. Seeing the numbers go up is not only satisfying but also creates a natural tension between the players. In a game with so little interaction, having a score tracker on the board was one place the game could have benefited greatly.

That alone is not enough to keep the game off my table. I still enjoyed Finspan, and I do not mind playing it. But when I compare it to other games in the same general space, games with similar complexity and strategic depth that also include meaningful interaction, Finspan struggles to stand out for me personally.

At the end of the day, I think Finspan is a good game. In many ways, it is a very smartly designed game. It just never fully grabbed me because the experience feels so isolated. The mechanics themselves are solid, often excellent even, but the lack of interaction keeps the game from reaching the next level, resulting in a kind of average Euro.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

 

Pros: As a 2-player joust, it feels quick and dynamic, with plenty of strategies to explore.

Cons:  This is a solo game you can play around the same table; there is so little interaction that there is no reason to play this in turn order.

This was probably the hardest category for me to judge when it comes to Finspan.

On one hand, the game taps into a very satisfying formula. There is that familiar rhythm of drawing cards, getting them into play, and watching your engine slowly come together and generate points. It is a system that is undeniably compelling, no doubt, while Wingspan is so popular. Many of my favorite games follow this variation on this pattern, and I have played some of them so much that I have quite literally worn out the components.

The difference between those games and Finspan is that those games usually include some level of interaction. Whether it is indirect pressure through shared spaces, like in worker placement, or more direct forms of disruption, other players create tension. They force you to adapt, rethink, and respond; they threaten your engine and your plan. Without that, a lot of the long-term appeal starts to fade.

With more solitary engine builders like Finspan, I tend to feel that the game gets “solved” over time. Even with variability from card draw, there is nothing actively pushing back against your strategy. No one is getting in your way, no one is forcing you off your plan. And for me, simply chasing a higher score, even with solid play like this, is not always enough to keep me engaged once the novelty wears off.

That said, I have seen the other side of this, probably something akin to what is happening with Wingspan in the wider community. My daughter really enjoys Finspan and regularly asks to play it. From her perspective, the lack of interaction does not seem to matter at all. She is fully engaged in building her own board and improving her score, and that is enough.

Finspan, I think, would have done much better as a two-player game, especially if you added some interaction between players with card selection and competition for point scoring, akin to something like 7 Wonder Duel. Trying to turn Finspan into a 4-5 player game, I think, was a bad idea; it’s clearly not a good fit for that.

My point here is that whether or not this game has staying power, that all-important replayability is not inherently a problem for this game. This puzzle has many functioning solutions, and it’s sufficiently dynamic for each game to be a unique experience. The absence of interaction, that’s a matter of preference as to whether or not that kills it for you. I recognize that my view, that a lack of interaction and contention hurts replayability, is not shared by everyone. In fact, quite to the contrary, Wingspan is proof of that. It remains hugely popular and widely loved.

For that reason, I do not see any obvious barrier to Finspan having strong replay value for the right audience. It may not be my personal preference, but if you enjoy this kind of low-interaction, engine-building experience, there is no reason to think Finspan would not hold up over time any more or less than Wingspan has. There is plenty of mechanical depth to explore a wide range of strategies, and it has the advantage of being an easier game to get into.

Conclusion

Finspan is a bit of a quandary for me. I genuinely like it, and I do think it is a good game, but it falls firmly into that category of “good, but flawed.”

The good is easy to identify. The game is simple, mechanically polished, visually appealing, and genuinely enjoyable to play. It is streamlined without feeling shallow, approachable without feeling dull, and there is a satisfying rhythm to building your engine and watching it come together over the course of a session.

The flaw, at least for me, is the near-complete absence of player interaction. In a board game, I personally want tension at the table. I want players affecting each other’s plans, forcing reactions, creating moments of triumph and frustration. That push and pull is a huge part of what makes board games exciting to me.

At the same time, I recognize that this is ultimately a matter of taste rather than an objective design failure. A lot of players don’t want confrontation in their games. They don’t want their plans disrupted or their strategies blocked. The very things I see as essential to a great board game are, for many people, the exact things they try to avoid.

So while I have to judge Finspan by my own standards, because this is my review and not a committee decision, I also understand why games like this resonate so strongly with such a large audience. This is not a problem unique to Finspan either. I often feel this same disconnect with many highly regarded Euro games.

At the start of this review, I asked three important questions, and I think now is the right time to answer them directly.

Does Finspan stand on its own within this series?

Absolutely. In fact, I think Finspan is probably the best entry point into the Span series. It feels like the most approachable and newcomer-friendly version of the formula. If you enjoy Finspan, there is a good chance Wingspan or Wyrmspan will appeal to you as deeper and more complex variations on the same core ideas. If Finspan does not work for you, I am not convinced the others will change your mind.

Is it different enough to justify a place alongside the other games?

I definitely think so. In fact, I suspect many Wingspan fans may actually prefer Finspan’s more deterministic style of strategy. The cleaner resource management and more controlled gameplay give it a very different feel, even if the foundation is familiar. I see no reason why Wingspan and Finspan cannot comfortably exist on the same shelf, and for some players, I could easily see Finspan replacing Wingspan entirely. Personally, I think it is the stronger game.

Who is it really for?

Unsurprisingly, Finspan is clearly aimed at fans of Wingspan and Wyrmspan, but I do not think that is where its audience ends. I think Finspan works very well as a light, accessible Euro game that requires no prior knowledge of the series at all.

It’s easy to teach, easy to learn, visually inviting, and mechanically satisfying. While I personally find the lack of interaction holds it back, I suspect that will not be a major issue for the audience this game is targeting. If anything, that relaxed and low-pressure style may be exactly why so many people will enjoy it.

At the end of the day, I think Finspan is a fun game. More importantly, my daughter enjoys it, and honestly, that alone probably guarantees it a permanent place on the shelf. Any game you can get to the table and entertain people with is a good game, and Finspan definitely falls into that category.