Tag Archives: Miniature 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!

In Theory: The Gamification of Table Top Miniature Games

I’m often accused of being “weird”, when speaking about my taste in miniature games; the word… chaotic is frequently used. It’s true my preferences tend to be a bit of a wild mix of systems, styles, and scales that don’t appear to follow any clear pattern.

But that only holds true until you understand one core principle I care deeply about, which we are going to talk about today!

The creeping gamification of tabletop miniature games, and how it quietly chips away at what makes this hobby special in the first place. My opinion, of course.

Understanding the Underlying Principle of Miniature Game Assumption

To really understand this “theory”, we need to take a small step back, just a quick glance into the history of miniature games and where they actually come from, how they got their start. In a word, my foundation in the hobby.

It’s not some hidden or complicated truth. In fact, it’s quite simple and surface-level. It’s just something many modern players may not even notice, nor is it usually relevant to modern gaming because it’s a piece of history.

The gist of it is that at their core, miniature games began as pure simulations. It’s a foundational construct of miniature war games, originally, that they all had an internal logic based on trying to simulate the battlefield.

Back even in the early days of the modern hobby as we know it today, think the 70s and 80s, the goal of a miniature game wasn’t just to “win” in a mechanical sense. The goal was to recreate, as faithfully as possible, the feeling and logic of a battlefield, a concept that heralded an even earlier variant of the game, historical war game simulation. Whether that battlefield was historical, fantastical, or somewhere in between, the idea was the same: what would this actually look like if it played out? What do expected results look like, and how does the game surprise you, and most importantly, is that consistent with the internal logic of the setting or piece of history? All mechanics were designed toward that goal.

That’s the foundation.

Historical Table Top War Games have one core and fundamental feature, which is critical to understanding how it’s played. It simulates via mechanics the reality in the field; it’s a simulation, abstracted as it may be, it strives to re-create the real conditions, decisions, strategy, and attributes of what made these battles tick.

Historically, this came from simulation-heavy war games, systems designed to recreate real battles, real tactics, and real consequences. But that philosophy didn’t disappear when fantasy and sci-fi entered the scene. It simply adapted.

Because simulation doesn’t mean “realistic”, it means internally logical.

Take early Warhammer Fantasy as an example. You had dragons, wizards, and undead legions, hardly realistic. But the game still tried to simulate how those things would behave within their own world. We derived that from the setting, much in the way you would derive a historical period battle from history books.

A dragon breathes fire? That’s terrifying, but what is the impact on the battlefield? How would that work if you wanted to simulate the effect?

Morale is a perfect example of a mechanic with internal logic. A unit of soldiers faces overwhelming odds? They might break and run. It exists in many games because, in real battles, soldiers don’t fight to the last man, they panic, retreat, and survive. So morale became a core mechanic when simulating tabletop battles. But then you apply fantasy logic: skeletons and mummies don’t feel fear, because they are dead, so they might ignore morale rules, for example.

So even within a fantasy, there is internal logic.

It all tracks. It all makes sense, within the simulation.

And that’s the key idea.

Even the most fantastical elements, magic spells, immortal beings, dragonfire, were governed by rules that felt like they belonged in a living, breathing battlefield as part of a simulation.

So when I talk about the gamification of miniature games, this is what I’m contrasting it against.

I’m talking about rulesets that move away from this idea of simulating a battle, and instead lean into abstract mechanics that exist purely for the sake of the game, rather than the world it’s trying to simulate.

Example of Gamification

The easiest way to understand the difference between simulation and gamification is through a concrete example.

So let’s talk about A Song of Ice and Fire: The Miniatures Game, because if we’re looking for a clear case study, this one puts it front and center.

On the surface, the game does a lot right in terms of simulation.

You’ve got two armies clashing on the battlefield. Units have speed, strength, defenses, morale, all the things you’d expect if the goal is to simulate combat in the Game of Thrones universe. You maneuver, you fight, you hold objectives, you try to outplay your opponent using positioning, timing, various advantages different unit types have, tough, fast, or ranged, perhaps. You use the terrain to your advantage, so on and so forth.

So far, so good. This is the simulation part working exactly as intended, even so far as the fantastical elements go, like Dragons.

But then… we step sideways.

Enter the NCU board.

This is where characters from the setting, Cersei, Joffrey, and Tyrion for example, operate completely outside the battlefield itself. They occupy abstract “zones” that trigger powerful effects on the game. And this is where the shift happens.

As interesting a mechanic as it was, the NCU board was a layered mechanic completely disconnected from the battlefield, yet it had an immense impact on it. The result was this sort of “extra” side game that could and often did unravel the rest of the core mechanics of the game. It was this heavy abstraction that could make your battlefield tactics and strategy irrelevant to the resolution of the battle. It worked fine, but it could be gamed.

Suddenly, you have a character like Joffery who can activate an ability on the NCU board that forces a morale check on a unit across the battlefield. Fail that check, and suddenly soldiers start dropping.

Now, pause for a moment.

Why are troops, possibly hundreds of miles away from Joffrey, losing men because Joffrey sat in a chair somewhere and did something political? Why would a dragon care? Why does this have an effect on a battlefield action?

The answer is simple:

It’s not part of the simulation; it’s not designed into the game to make sense or have any internal logic. It’s a game mechanic. This is gamification, not simulation.

It’s an abstract system layered on top of the battlefield, one that exists to create interesting decisions and strategic depth, but not necessarily to represent anything that logically plays out in the battle itself. It’s not part of a simulation of the battle; it’s part of a game.

And to be clear, this isn’t inherently bad, but for me personally, this creates a dilemma and breaks the immersion of what the game is trying to represent. It’s a bit like adding a knock-knock joke in the middle of a Star Wars lightsaber duel between two Jedi; it might be hilarious, but it’s out of place, out of context.

Is Gamification Bad?

Gamification can be incredibly fun. It adds layers of decision-making, clever interactions, and those satisfying “gotcha” moments that make games memorable. But it does change the nature of the experience, and that’s where things, at least for me, start to disconnect.

Because at its core, this comes down to a simple distinction: Are you playing a game… or are you simulating a battle?

The true definition of a simulation and game, and really the tell that you are dealing with a simulation game, is that battlefield conditions will typically be quite robust. Rules for cover, for example, are often key to the game, they are core rules, and you want to avoid abstract external consequences on this unless said effect is something visible on the table, like a unit that has a weapon that circumvents cover, for example. You don’t want a card play or some hidden mechanic altering it, because if that is possible, cover then becomes less relevant as an element of strategy, as it can be circumvented by “hidden things”.

Now, that might sound like splitting hairs, but it really isn’t.

“Playing a game” leans toward board game logic, optimizing mechanics, managing resources, triggering abilities, and outmaneuvering your opponent within a defined system of rules. Victory comes from mastering those systems. It’s not a game about trying to understand the concept of “battles” and using inherent internal logic to make decisions; it’s about the manipulation and execution of mechanics, creating synergy, and trying to “win” in a game.

“Simulating a battle” is a bit different; it is about applying battlefield logic and seeing what happens. It’s an external experience; you are as much the controller as the audience. It’s almost a kind of experiment. What would happen under X, Y, Z conditions within the construct of this setting/universe, or historical period, or historical battle? How can I change the results with my decisions? Can I do it better than the history or the expected outcome? Simulation is a kind of discovery in the form of entertainment. It’s a spectacle more than a game.

Positioning, timing, morale, flanking, and decisions that feel grounded in how a conflict might actually unfold are the key to creating a simulation. The dice step in to represent chaos, uncertainty, and the unpredictable nature of war. Most importantly, in a battle simulation, most of the information, in particular when it comes to consequences, risk vs. reward, and the general understanding of what can happen in any given situation, is open information. The only “gotcha” moments in a simulation are derived from someone using a strategy you didn’t expect or an unexpected or unusual dice outcome.

Both approaches are valid. But they create very different experiences.

Gamification tends to introduce what I like to call… shenanigans.

These are mechanics that pull your focus away from the battlefield itself and toward the system behind it. Instead of asking, “What would Jon Snow do in this situation?” you start asking, “What combination of abilities or effects can combo with the cards in my hand that I can trigger right now to let Jon Snow do something my opponent does not expect or can’t counter?” In a way, you can say it’s about breaking your opponent’s strategy by altering the rules of the game that are visible and can be anticipated.

In a simulation-driven game, when two armies clash, the outcome is shaped by their inherent strengths and weaknesses. Maybe one side has better morale. Maybe the other gains an advantage through positioning, flanking, terrain, or timing. And ultimately, the dice decide how that moment resolves. It’s a combination of strategy and fate, but both players can see what is happening in the field. It’s not the result of a gamist mechanic; it’s a result of the resolution of core mechanics that both players understand and can see. In a sense, seeing what happens is the result of watching the simulation execute. It doesn’t mean the results can be predicted, but the odds can be calculated.

It feels organic. Grounded. Earned. You make decisions about movement and position by accessing these factors, and while the results may still surprise, the surprise isn’t going to be your opponent playing a hidden card in their hand that lets them do some internal logic-breaking thing. It’s going to be a statistical anomaly in the randomization used in the game, typically dice. There is an expected outcome from the clash, but fate might intervene with unusual dice results. A miss that should have been a hit. In a simulation, you “do stuff” and then “see what happens” within the scope of predictable factors, statistics, strengths, and weaknesses. There are no shenanigans that are going to alter the outcome.

In a more heavily gamified system, that same clash can be dramatically altered by effects that have little to do with the units or situation themselves. A card is played. A hidden ability is triggered. Suddenly, the outcome hinges less on the clashing units and the battle… and more on the mechanics layered on top of it. What hidden shinaningans does each player have that they can execute?

And again, that’s not wrong in any sort of “mechanical” or “design” sense. I want to be clear about this, but I think it’s fair to say that it’s a different kind of gaming experience.

One sort of important, albeit mostly overlooked element of simulation games is that they are grand spectacles of storytelling. The goal isn’t to win or lose so much as it is to have a great experience you can go back to and say stuff like “you remember that one time I….”. That tends to happen a lot less when the thing that happened was that you drew a card and played it. It doesn’t have the same story feel. A story is the bridge between short-term fun and long-term love affair.

The reality is that most miniature games sit somewhere on a spectrum. Very few are purely simulation-driven, and very few are entirely abstract. The issue isn’t the presence of gamification, it’s the degree of it. There is a tipping point in a miniature game where too much gamification kind of erases the need for internal logic and simulation consistency; it becomes abstract enough that you are no longer seeing it as a simulated battle, and it’s just a tactical/strategic game., closer to a board game or a card game It becomes a game about the shenanigans instead of the simulation.

The more abstract, disconnected, and prominent these mechanics become, the further the game drifts away from simulating a battle, and the more it becomes about executing systems within a game engine.

At some point, you’re no longer commanding an army. You’re solving a mechanical puzzle.

And whether that’s a good thing or not… depends entirely on what you came to the table for, but at this point, I think my personal taste and bias start to kick in.

Why I Think Simulation Is Better

At the heart of it, my preference for simulation comes down to one thing: Clarity and longevity, and though I think there are some added minor issues that conflate my problem with gamist systems on top of those two things.

In a simulation-driven game, you can see the battlefield, not just a game construct, but as an imagined real thing that works as close to “reality” as game mechanics can get it, even when abstracted. You understand the state of play. You can evaluate risks, predict outcomes, and make informed decisions based on what’s actually in front of you. You can also create scenarios that present unique challenges (circumstances) that are overcome by unique tactics using the same internal logic of the simulation that inherently exists in such games. Unique game states that require unique solutions within the confines of the same base rules structure that replicates that reality, which again is driven by recognizable internal logic and a visible game state.

That kind of visibility, combined with a solid grasp of probabilities, beats surprise-driven gamist “gotcha” mechanics every time, at least for me.

Because once you lose that clarity, the experience starts to shift.

The Balance Problem

One of the biggest issues with heavily gamified systems is balance. Or more accurately… the lack of it.

In my experience, the more a game leans into abstract mechanics, cards, hidden triggered abilities, off-board effects, or mechanics that circumvent internal logic, the harder it becomes to keep things fair. And things are usually not just slightly off, but noticeably off.

Take A Song of Ice and Fire again as an example. Many of its most glaring balance issues don’t come from the core unit design; they come from the layers on top of it. The cards. The NCU board. The external effects that interfere with the battlefield. Even when a unit is designed in a reasonable way, the various cards and NCU board effects can make that unit bizarrely stronger in one army than another. These aren’t equivocal in the same way, there is a difference between a Targaryan cavalry and a Lannister cavalry, not because their stats are different, but because of the way the game can be manipulated by the gamist mechanics like NCU boards and hidden cards the players have access to. A cavalry unit is not just a cavalry unit in a Songs of Ice and Fire

These mechanics often override the very things that are supposed to define units and the internal logic of the battlefield simulation.

A slow unit suddenly isn’t slow anymore. An already-activated unit acts again. A weak unit spikes damage out of nowhere or makes a surprise move. The base information isn’t fixed, the gamist mechanics can alter without much warning the functionality of units and the execution of the core mechanic.

A Song of Ice and Fire Rankings are a tell about how this game does with balance. The distance between the best faction and the worst faction is extremely wide. That isn’t all, however; a couple of card changes or a new NCU can alter an army from one that never loses a game to one that never wins a game. Case in point, Nights Watch was once at +90,000 faction, now it’s a -28,000. The rules haven’t changed for the game, the units’ attributes have not been changed, but the abstract shinnaningan mechanics were altered, and some of the armies’ core shinannigans” no longer work. Without them, the strength of the army on the field is irrelevant. The strongest factions are those with the best cards and NCU’s, the armies really don’t matter much in this game. It’s the typical outcome of a gamist system.

At that point, the carefully constructed strengths and weaknesses of the army start to lose meaning, as does the simulation itself, as it does not function reliably.

And when that happens, player decisions also lose their purpose and meaning.

You might make the perfect tactical move based on everything you can see and control, only for it to be undone by something you couldn’t see or control. Not because you misplayed or miscalculated, but because the system allowed your opponent to circumvent the rules themselves through the execution of gamist mechanics.

That’s where simulation starts to crack. Because now, the game on the table and the game you’re actually playing aren’t quite the same thing. There’s an invisible layer sitting on top, constantly threatening to rewrite the outcome.

The “Feel Bad” Problem

Then there’s the emotional side of it, the infamous feel-bad moment. In a simulation-driven game, the potential for failure is part of the deal.

You miss a charge. You fail a morale check. You whiff an attack roll. It stings, but it makes sense. You knew the odds going in. You chose to take the risk. The dice decided the outcome. It’s a kind of controlled chaos.

It’s frustrating to fail, sure, but it’s fair. It lives within the logic of the system, within the expected range of outcomes in a simulation.

And honestly, that tension, the chance of failure, is a big part of why we play.

Gamified systems create a very different kind of failure potential and feel-bad moments.

Instead of failing because of risk and probability, you fail, for example, because someone played a card that says, essentially, “No, what you just tried to do within the rules doesn’t work after all.” Or worse, “I do something that is normally against the rules of the game and could not be predicted”.

You made a sound decision. You understood the odds. And then… none of it mattered. That kind of moment doesn’t feel like a failed gamble or the result of poor decision; it feels like the rug got pulled out from under you in an unfair game.

Not outplayed. Not outmaneuvered. Just… overridden by rule-altering mechanics, the goal post was moved dynamically. And that’s where frustration starts to creep in. That’s when a mechanic that seems interesting and clever at first, because of a balance problem and frustration that sucks the fun out of the game on repeated plays.

One of the issues with Warhammer 40k, even though it is primarily a simulation-focused game and does not rely on “gotcha mechanics,” is that the core rules of the armies are still hidden behind pay walls. The end result is that even though all of the information at any given battle are on the table, there are so many units and so many different armies and you can only see the attributes of the armies for which you have a codex, your usually flying blind anyway and it ends up having the same “gotcha” effect as a hidden set of cards. I personally have no idea how most armies work, or what units do for armies I don’t collect, paint, and use and there is no legal way short of buying every codex to get that information.

Because there was no meaningful decision that led to that outcome. No visible risk. No way to prepare for it. Just an abstract mechanic firing at the perfect (or worst possible) moment. It’s not clever to execute an effect that says “Sorry, I’m changing the rules”, it feels more like a cheap shot.

The whole game can quickly start to feel less like a game of strategy… and more like playing against a system that occasionally cheats, legally.

The Immersion Problem

Perhaps one of the biggest impacts on me, is that gamification breaks immersion, which leads to stagnation and boredom.

In a simulation-driven game, you’re in it. You’re thinking like a commander. You’re reading the battlefield, planning maneuvers, anticipating outcomes, and experiencing the battle almost like an observer. Your focus is entirely on the clash unfolding in front of you. Each battle functions under the same internal logic, while the circumstances are different every time. It’s exciting, it’s something you can build experience at and become better at navigating. There is a route to becoming a better commander, but Lady Luck will always play her hand, and even the most brilliant of plans can fail, and that becomes a kind of story that can be told in the same way you might describe a historical battle, but it’s a piece of history you wrote at the table together with an opponent. The game is about finding out what happens when all those factors come together.

But when heavy gamified elements enter the picture, that focus shifts.

Now you’re thinking about cards in hand. Triggers. Combos. Hidden interactions. Not just what’s happening on the battlefield, but what might happen outside of it. Your card draw can define whether you will win or lose a scenario. Did you get the right combo of effects you’ll be able to nail your opponent with? Did your opponent draw the counters he will need to circumvent your cards? The story becomes about how many points you scored and how X card or Y hidden effect resulted in you winning the game. There is a kind of cheapness to that story, told not through the eyes of commanders but through the eyes of players, playing a game of abstraction.

And that changes the feel of the game and the experience dramatically.

Warcrow is a really cool tactical game, but personally, I don’t see it as a “battle simulation”, and I don’t think it intends to be that. It’s very much a skirmish game about special characters with special powers. It’s really more like a miniature-based board game, similar to the Masters of the Universe tactical game. It’s in a very different category, and while I love the concept, it doesn’t really fill the miniature war game itch for me. It’s fun, but something in a different category.

What should be a decisive cavalry charge into an exposed flank suddenly becomes a question of, “What mechanic is about to interrupt this?” The tension isn’t about tactics anymore, or dice outcomes, it’s about the timing of hidden effects and abilities, the gamist elements that are the true drivers of the game.

Some gamist and abstracted elements can be fine. Even enjoyable in moderation.

But when those mechanics become powerful enough to completely unravel battlefield strategy, the illusion breaks. The battle stops feeling like a battle and starts feeling like a system being manipulated.

You’re no longer commanding an army. You’re managing interactions.

From Intrigue to Exhaustion

The final thing here is the irony that these gamified systems are often very appealing at first. They feel modern and clever, even. I find myself attracted to such systems, but it never lasts. There is a kind of exhaustion that kicks in because you’re analyzing the game, not the battles.

Gamist systems often feel clever. Dynamic. Full of surprising moments and interesting interactions. There’s a lot to explore, and that initial discovery phase can be genuinely exciting.

But over time, those same mechanics can start to feel repetitive and oppressive; they become the source of the frustration rather than the source of the fun.

Players learn these tricks. The combos. The optimal plays. And what begins as variety slowly turns into a cycle of shenanigans and counter-shenanigans. Army building becomes a matter of trying to build the synergies with these gamified mechanics, and usually, very clear winners rise to the top. Games become predictable, and spice turns into boredom.

For me, that’s where the interest starts to fade. Because what I’m looking for isn’t just a game to play. It’s a battle to experience. It’s the act of sitting at a table with a friend, with two forces on the table where the battle will be decided by movement, positioning, tactics, and the chaotic results of the dice within the setting of the world we are playing in.

I got really burned out on Songs of Ice and Fire, even though I really enjoyed my time with it. The main reason is that the game was about the cards, the NCU’s, and the shinnaningans you could pull with them. It was less a battle simulation and more a game about shinannigans, which was fine, but the alterations to the game, how the game was played, what your army could do, and how the game was balanced over time were through these card effects, and that was kind of exhausting to keep up with. Just getting the game to the table meant printing out and cutting out decks of cards, sleeving them, and getting re-familiarized with how every single element of your army changed since the last time you played. It’s just too much effort to play a game.

If all of that is undone by hidden mechanics and abilities, the game’s shelf life is going to be limited to how long these gamist mechanics remain interesting, before the game becomes played out and boring.

I’ve seen this pattern repeat over and over again, and I have a shelf full of miniature games I don’t play to prove it.

Long-Term Success vs. Flash In The Pan

If you really want to see this principle in action, you don’t have to look any further than the history of miniature gaming itself.

Because over time, patterns emerge.

The games that endure, the ones that stick around for decades, build loyal communities and continue to evolve, tend to lean heavily toward simulation. They create a foundation that players can understand, trust, and invest in long-term.

They feel consistent. Predictable in the right ways. Deep with just the right amount of chaos. These aren’t even necessarily always “better games” or even “modern designs”, but the stability over time and the variability of the simulation versus the shinanigan mechanics tends to win long term.

And that matters more than you might think.

Because miniature games aren’t just games, they’re hobbies. They demand time, money, effort. You build armies, paint models, learn rules, and invest in systems. Players want to feel like that investment has stability and longevity.

Simulation-driven systems provide that.

They offer a kind of rules “gravity.” Even as editions change and mechanics evolve, the core logic of the game remains intact. Movement matters. Positioning matters. Morale matters. The battlefield still behaves like a battlefield. The core is a core architecture upon which the game sits.

Constant rule changes, I think, are only good for games that are broken and need to be fixed. At some point, however, you should be able to find the balance, and the game should require fewer and fewer changes until, at some point, you perfect the game. That rarely ever happens, usually changes are introduced for changing’s sake, and I don’t think that is a healthy way to handle a product. Constant changes are annoying, and many games, even good simulation games, do too much of this.

You can leave the game for a year or five, and come back without feeling like everything you knew has been flipped upside down, and perhaps more importantly, the game will still be in print, which is rarely the case for gamist systems. The hotness today is gone tomorrow.

Gamified systems often struggle with that kind of longevity.

Because when a game leans heavily on layered mechanics, cards, combos, triggered effects, and abstract interactions, it becomes much harder to maintain balance and clarity over time. Each new addition risks compounding complexity, introducing new edge cases, and shifting the meta in unpredictable ways. Perhaps more importantly, the game starts to crack under its own weight, and demands from the player base for balance and fairness are muted by the fact that gamist systems see balance and fairness as an adjustment to the gamist mechanics, not as a core construct of the simulation.

What starts as exciting… can quickly become unstable. And when that instability builds, players drift away.

Not always immediately. Sometimes these games explode onto the scene with energy and enthusiasm. They feel fresh, dynamic, full of possibility.

But that energy can and very often does fade.

That’s where you see the “flash in the pan” effect. A strong launch. A burst of popularity. And then… a slow decline.

Now, to be fair, this isn’t a universal rule. There are exceptions on both sides. Some gamified systems find ways to stabilize, and some simulation-heavy games stumble for entirely different reasons.

But as a general trend, I think this tends to be true. The more a game roots itself in simulation, clear logic, visible systems, grounded interactions, the better its chances of standing the test of time.

Because at the end of the day, players aren’t just looking for something new. They’re looking for something that lasts.

Battletech

If you want a textbook example of longevity in miniature gaming, look no further than Battletech.

Launched in the mid-80s, this is a game built on pure simulation principles, and it shows. Its core rules have remained remarkably consistent for over 40 years. It has never truly disappeared, never fallen out of print, and today it stands as one of the highest-grossing miniature games on the market.

That kind of staying power doesn’t happen by accident.

And I think the reason is simple: Battletech doesn’t need gimmicks to stay interesting.

I think the biggest part of Battletech’s success comes from the fact that they kept fixing the rules until they got them right, and then they stopped. Now, new rule books are just “updated printings with better editing”. This stability is very good for the game.

You can play the exact same scenario, same mechs, same map, same players a hundred times, and you’ll get a hundred completely different outcomes. A hundred different stories. There is no puzzle to solve in Battletech; there is no meta, it really is simulation purity.

There are no hidden cards. No off-board mechanics. No surprise systems waiting to override what’s happening on the table. Everything is visible. Everything is grounded in the simulation. The dice are the only surprise factor.

It’s just you, your opponent, and a battlefield full of giant war machines where every decision carries weight.

That’s it.

And it’s more than enough.

Star Wars: X-Wing

Star Wars: X-Wing is perhaps the most fascinating example of both sides of this argument, and prime proof that there is something to this theory. It showed how powerful a good simulation can be… and how fragile it becomes when that foundation is compromised.

When X-Wing first launched, it was beautifully clean. At its core was a simple but brilliant idea: movement is everything.

Players secretly selected maneuvers using dials, revealing them simultaneously to simulate the uncertainty and tension of a dogfight. Ships had firing arcs, usually in the front, so getting a clean shot was all about positioning, which required different levels of risk and prediction. It was quite perfect as a simulation; everything that made the game tick.

Beyond that, the system was open. Transparent. Logical. No “gotchas.” No hidden layers. Just ships, movement, dice, and decisions.

And it exploded in popularity as a game.

For the first time in decades, a miniature game seriously challenged, and according to some reports, even surpassed, Warhammer 40k in popularity. It wasn’t just a hit, it was a phenomenon.

Now, to be fair, it had other advantages. It was Star Wars. It had pre-painted miniatures. It was accessible and relatively affordable.

But none of that works without a solid game underneath it. And X-Wing had that.

Until it didn’t.

Over time, the designers began introducing more and more gamified elements, mechanics that layered on top of the core system that undermined rather than reinforced them.

The most infamous example was the Twin Laser Turrets.

It wasn’t just that Twin Laser Turret ruined X-Wing, one card doesn’t do that. It was that it introduced the idea that equipment cards can and will circumvent the core mechanic of the game. It was the beginning of the end for X-Wing. It went from a simulation to a gamist system about shenanigans after this card, until it no longer mattered what anyone did on the battlefield; it was all about the effects of equipment and the synergies and combos.

This upgrade fundamentally bypassed one of the game’s core pillars: positioning and firing arcs. Suddenly, careful maneuvering, arc-dodging, and spatial awareness didn’t matter. With a single change to the game, the simulation of a dogfight, of outmaneuvering your opponent, was undermined by a mechanic that simply… ignored it.

And once that door opened, more followed. Abilities that bent the rules.
Interactions that overrode core mechanics got to such an extreme that the act of rolling dice was a formality; everything could be manipulated. Systems that prioritized clever combos over battlefield decisions. The game became about list-building synergies that resulted in players being able to compare lists and declare a winner; playing the game to determine a winner was also mostly a formality by the end of the game’s run.

The result was a very rapid and steady erosion of what made the game special. The simulation faded. The “shenanigans” took over. And the decline was just as dramatic as the rise.

A second edition failed to recapture the magic, arguably leaning even further into these layered mechanics. The game lost momentum, lost players, and eventually was passed between publishers before quietly fading out altogether.

There were, of course, multiple factors behind X-Wing’s fall. But for me, the turning point is clear:

The moment the game stopped being a simulation… was the moment it started dying.

Warhammer 40k & Age of Sigmar

Even Warhammer 40k tells a similar story, just with a different ending.

Over its long history, 40k has swung back and forth between simulation and gamification. There were periods where the game leaned heavily into abstract mechanics and bloated systems, to the point where it nearly collapsed under its own weight, dragging the company down with it.

But then GW course corrected, thanks to the company not being afraid to make big changes, and thank god they did.

Modern 40k, particularly in its latest editions, has moved back toward a more grounded approach. It still carries a fair share of gamified elements, stratagems, mission structures, and layered interactions, but much of it is at least open and visible, trackable, and something players can plan around. There is too much of it, which is a bit of an issue, making it highly complex and very involved, so it can still sometimes feel like the game has a lot of gotchas, but with game mastery its something you can overcome.

There’s a lot going on. A lot to process. And mechanics like widespread re-rolls can sometimes dilute the tension that makes simulation-based systems feel so compelling.

It’s better, but it’s still walking that line, and also still improving with each iteration of the game, and there is a lot of hope for 11th edition coming out this summer.

Age of Sigmar, GW’s other big game, interestingly, might be the cleaner of the two.

While it had a rocky start, it has steadily refined itself over time. It trims away many of the excess layers, fewer re-rolls, fewer disruptive mechanics, and focuses more on flow, clarity, and battlefield interaction.

It’s not a pure simulation by any means, but it leans in that direction more confidently.

And I think that’s a big part of why it continues to grow.

Because as long as it stays grounded, focused on the battle rather than the systems around it, it has a very strong foundation to build on.

Conclusion

I don’t think most players consciously think about this when they pick up a game, but the patterns emerge just the same. And one of the most consistent patterns I’ve seen is this:

Simulation-driven games last.
Gamist systems… don’t.

Gamist games tend to explode onto the scene. They’re praised for their innovation, their “modern design,” their clever mechanics. And to be fair, they are clever. They’re exciting. They’re fresh.

At first. But over time, those mechanics start to settle. The community figures them out. The puzzle gets solved.

And once that happens, something important is lost.

Because at their core, many gamified systems are puzzles. And puzzles, once solved, don’t have the same pull the second, or tenth, time around.

They become repetitive. Predictable in the wrong way.

Simulation systems, on the other hand, thrive on unpredictability. They aren’t puzzles, they’re systems of controlled chaos.

You can play the same battle, under the same conditions, with the same armies, making the same decisions, and still get wildly different outcomes. Not because of hidden mechanics, but because of the inherent uncertainty of the simulation itself.

That’s where the longevity comes from. That’s where the stories come from. And ultimately, that’s what keeps people coming back.

When I look at the games I’ve loved over the years, vs. games I have played and more importantly, the ones I still have interest in today, the list is surprisingly small.

Battletech.
Warhammer 40k
The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game.
X-Wing (but only the early edition stuff)

These are the games that stuck.

That doesn’t mean the others weren’t great. I’ve had fantastic experiences with plenty of gamified systems. Some of them were incredibly fun, creative, and memorable. They review well.

But the issue is that they didn’t last. I don’t play Songs of Ice and Fire anymore. I loved Warcrow, but ultimately, I’m not driven to get it to the table. I love my Runewars miniatures, but I know I will never play that game again. They burned bright and then faded into obscurity. There is a graveyard of games on my shelves.

And for me, that difference comes down to one thing:

Whether the game was asking me to solve a system…

Or to command an army. That is, in the end, the crux of the whole thing.

In Theory: Warhammer 40k 11th edition – Wish List!

The rumors are over, 11th edition of Warhammer 40,000 is coming. This is no longer speculation, hopeful guessing, or wild internet theorycrafting. It’s confirmed. It’s real. A new edition of the grim darkness of the far future is on its way.

And when a new edition looms on the horizon, it’s only natural to start looking back at the one we’re currently playing. I’ve spent a lot of time with 10th edition, and like every version of 40k before it, it’s been a mixed bag of brilliant ideas, strange design choices, and the occasional rules interaction that makes you wonder if the Emperor himself wrote it during a particularly confusing warp storm.

So with 11th edition approaching, it feels like the perfect moment to reflect a bit on my experience with 10th, what worked, what didn’t, and the things that made me raise an eyebrow across the gaming table. More importantly, it’s a chance to share my own personal wish list for what I hope the next edition might bring.

The 10th edition core set that launched with the game is, without question, one of the best starter sets we ever got, it was the main push for me to get back into the game.

Because at the end of the day, I love this game. I played a lot of 10th edition, and the prospect of a brand new version of Warhammer 40k is always exciting.

So let’s talk about it.

Overview – 10th Edition & Miniature Gaming

10th edition of Warhammer 40,000 was actually my return to the game after a long break. The last time I had played seriously before that was back in 6th edition. But my absence wasn’t really about being fed up with 40k. Instead, it was because the wider world of miniature gaming absolutely exploded around 2012-2014.

Suddenly, there were incredible alternatives everywhere. Star Wars: X-Wing Miniatures Game took the tabletop by storm, followed by exceptional Star Wars: Armada and later Star Wars: Legion. Privateer Press was dominating the competitive scene with Warmachine, and a wave of new titles kept arriving. Games like the outstanding A Song of Ice and Fire: Tabletop Miniatures Game filled the gap that 40k once occupied for me.

For a while, those games completely replaced my need to collect, paint, and play Warhammer 40k.

But as the years passed and the dust settled, something funny happened: I started to miss it. The familiar universe, the armies, the ridiculous over-the-top lore. When 10th edition launched, I noticed that my beloved Tyranids were front and center in the starter set, and that was all the excuse I needed. I picked up an army and dove back in.

And almost immediately, I had a realization: for all its flaws, Warhammer 40k is still the most fun I have ever had pushing miniatures around a table.

Now let’s be honest here. 40k is a flawed game, and Games Workshop is a flawed company. That’s hardly a controversial statement. But the game has something that many of its competitors struggled to maintain: staying power and a steady fan base. It’s been around for decades, and here we are in 2026 with a pretty clear scoreboard.

Many of the games that once “replaced” Warhammer for me are simply gone. X-Wing and Armada are effectively dead. Warmachine and A Song of Ice and Fire both ran into design issues that pushed them into awkward corners. Even games like Legion never quite stuck with me long term and are floundering, trying to reinvent themselves.

Fantasy Flight Games Star Wars X-Wing miniature game was the first game in miniature gaming history that outsold Warhammer 40k. Many believe it is what prompted Games Workshop to rethink their long-term strategy and start modernizing 40k a bit more seriously. It may very well be responsible for the much improved condition 40k is in today, a kick in the ass the GW really needed.

Meanwhile, 40k is still here. It’s the game I still paint for. It’s the one I still want to play. My miniatures are still valid in the game.

And credit where it’s due, 10th edition was a genuine step forward. In fact, it might be the first edition of Warhammer 40k where I found myself thinking, this is actually a fairly well-designed game. Not perfect, and certainly not cutting-edge compared to modern tabletop design (say, compared to Warcrow, for example), but by 40k standards, it was probably the best version of the system we’ve ever had.

It works. It’s fun. And it addressed a lot of long-standing problems that had plagued the game for years.

That said… There are still a few things that kind of suck. Enough for a wish list!

And with 11th edition on the horizon, it feels like the perfect time to talk about them. So today I’m putting together said wish list, ten things I’d love to see improved, fixed, or completely rethought in the next edition of Warhammer 40k.

In no particular order… let’s get into it.

1. Strategems and Command Points

I hate them. There, I said it.

Stratagems and Command Points might be one of the most controversial mechanics in modern Warhammer 40,000 for me; they represent one of the biggest design missteps in the current game, in my humble opinion.

Now I understand why they exist. There’s a huge competitive scene around 40k, and there’s clearly a push to make the game feel more like a modern tactical system. The idea is that stratagems create deeper decision-making, more reactive play, and more strategic layers.

Strategems don’t just add a lot of rules and complexity, slowing down the game, but many of them give inherently unequal advantages to certain factions, creating balance issues.

In theory, that sounds great.

In practice… it just doesn’t work for what 40k actually is.

At its core, Warhammer 40k is still a dice-chucking spectacle. It’s a game of eyeballing distances, rolling handfuls of dice, and watching ridiculous things happen on the table. That’s not a flaw, that’s part of its identity, and 40k should be leaning into that. It’s supposed to be fast and explosive, but strategems act as the complete opposite to that concept, slowing the game down dramatically and adding a lot of complexity to the resolutions of actions.

So when you bolt on this extra layer of “gotcha” mechanics with stratagems and Command Points, the result isn’t deeper strategy, it’s a slower, clunkier game.

Every turn becomes a minefield of “Wait, do you have a stratagem for that?” moments. Games grind to a halt while players scan cards or phone apps. Someone forgets to use half their abilities. Someone else drops a perfectly timed stratagem that feels less like clever play and more like a rules ambush that results in the inevitable “I didn’t know you could do that”. For obvious reasons, few of us have so much time that we can learn every nuance of every army in the game. There is just no way any reasonable person can track all this stuff, and strategems add a whole other layer to an already sprawling amount of faction rules.

Instead of adding meaningful depth, the system mostly creates feel-bad and gotcha moments and a thousand new ways for the game to become wildly unbalanced.

Personally, I’d love to see stratagems massively trimmed down, or preferably removed entirely.

Let the unit cards, army rules, and faction-specific enhancements carry the core gameplay. Those elements are easier to remember, easier to balance, and far more in line with the flow of a traditional 40k battle. The current stratagem system feels like an awkward layer of card-play that never really belonged in the game to begin with. Why are we playing Magic: The Gathering in the middle of our Warhammer 40k game? “What the fuck do you mean you counterspell!?”

To me, stratagems mostly do two things. They add a mountain of rules that nobody remembers, and they introduce a destabilizing factor where there are very obvious winners and losers.

And if you’ve played enough games of 40k, you’ve heard the same conversations after the match:

“Oh man… I forgot to use half my stratagems.”
or
“That stratagem is so unbelievably OP.”

It happens all the time.

Now, if stratagems absolutely must stay in the game, I’d love to see them treated as optional advanced rules. Let players choose whether they want that extra layer of complexity or not. Sometimes you want the full tournament experience. Other times, you just want to throw some dice, move some cool miniatures, and finish a game in a couple of hours without flipping through a deck of tactical tricks. But make those official, established optional rules so that it’s clear to players that “these are extra, not default”.

2. Simpler but More Impactful Terrain Rules

Terrain in Warhammer 40,000 is one of those things that looks incredibly important on the table… but often ends up feeling strangely irrelevant once the dice start rolling.

And that’s a problem.

Right now, the terrain rules are oddly caught between two worlds. On one hand, there are a lot of rules to remember, keywords, cover conditions, line-of-sight quirks, and special terrain interactions. On the other hand, the actual impact on the game is surprisingly small. In many cases, terrain barely changes the outcome of a firefight at all.

In fact, if you played a game of 40k with no terrain whatsoever, the difference in gameplay would often be… minimal, as there are so few units in the game at this point that garner any positive or negative effects from cover.

That’s not great.

The current system ends up feeling like a stack of rules you have to keep in your head that ultimately don’t matter very much. It’s complex to explain, awkward to apply, and yet somehow still underwhelming in terms of gameplay impact. I once wrote a 5,000-word essay just explaining the benefits of cover, which probably tells you everything you need to know about how intuitive the current system is.

What I’d love to see in the next edition is terrain that is both simpler and more meaningful.

The rules should be easy to apply at a glance and based on logic we can quickly eyeball across the table. No complicated chains of conditions, no digging through terrain keywords, and no debates over whether a model’s left kneecap is technically within a ruin footprint.

Just simple questions.

Are you in cover? Yes or no.

If the answer is yes, you get a clear and meaningful benefit, something like +1 to your save, full stop. No exceptions, no extra layers of logic, no obscure edge cases.

Terrain should be something that players actively care about during the game. It should shape movement, influence positioning, and create meaningful tactical decisions. Right now it often feels like decorative scenery with a rules appendix attached.

Even this simple benefit of cover rule, ends up being quite complicated because note that it refers to the model, not the unit. Not only that, but the end result, because most units in 40k have a 3+ save is that cover doesn’t do anything.

This one feels like a no-brainer to me. Terrain rules should be simple to apply and powerful enough that terrain genuinely matters on the battlefield.

After all, if we’re going to fill our tables with beautiful ruins, forests, and industrial complexes… they should probably do something.

3. Eliminate Dice Re-Rolls

I’m going to say something here that might sound extreme, but I genuinely believe it:

There should be no dice re-rolls in Warhammer 40,000. None. Ever.

Re-rolls are one of the most common mechanics in modern 40k, and in my opinion, they are also one of the weakest pieces of game design in the entire system. When designers lean heavily on re-roll mechanics, it usually means they’ve run out of better ways to represent abilities or create meaningful gameplay differences.

In other words, it’s a design crutch.

And in 10th edition, that crutch is everywhere.

Let’s start with the first problem: it slows the game down. Warhammer 40k is already a long game, and re-rolls add a massive amount of extra time to every battle. Roll to hit. Check which dice failed. Pick them up. Roll them again. Then do the same thing for wounds, saves, and sometimes even damage rolls.

For my army, I’d estimate that 40–60% of the dice I roll can be re-rolled in some way. That’s absurd. At that point, you’re not really rolling once, you’re rolling twice for half the game. I’m convinced the mechanic alone adds close to an hour to many matches.

The second issue is that re-rolls kill the drama of dice rolling.

Rolling dice should be exciting. You throw them across the table, everyone leans in, and for a moment, the fate of the battlefield hangs in the balance.

But with re-rolls, that moment gets completely deflated.

You roll the dice.

“Oh man, I missed.”

Pause.

“Wait… I get re-rolls.”

Pick them up. Roll again.

“Never mind, I hit.”

That entire moment of tension just evaporates. The first roll didn’t matter because we were going to do it again anyway. Nothing kills the momentum of a game faster than realizing the dice result you just saw isn’t actually the real result yet.

And then there’s the third issue, which in my view is the biggest one: re-rolls destroy statistical balance.

From a game design perspective, they undermine the entire math behind the system.

Every unit in 40k is built around probability, weapon skill, armor saves, and wound rolls. These numbers are carefully tuned to create expected outcomes. But the moment you introduce widespread re-rolls, those probabilities stop meaning what they’re supposed to mean.

A 3+ save isn’t really a 3+ save anymore if it can be re-rolled. The actual statistical survival rate changes dramatically. The same goes for hit rolls, wound rolls, and everything else. Add re-rolls to a resolution of more than one of these statistics and the numbers are all over the place.

And once you start stacking re-roll mechanics across an army, balancing the game becomes exponentially harder. The baseline math that designers rely on stops being reliable.

When I say re-rolls are bad design, that’s not just personal frustration talking; it’s a fundamental game theory problem. If you take even a basic game design course, one of the early lessons is that mechanics that constantly override probability curves make balancing systems far more difficult. Do it enough and unbalance is a foregone conclusion and cannot be repaired through other mechanical finagling.

Yet 40k leans on them everywhere.

Instead of destabilizing the entire statistical foundation of the game, I’d much rather see abilities expressed through clear modifiers, unique effects, or meaningful unit rules. Those are far easier to understand, easier to balance, and far faster to play.

Because at the end of the day, when the dice hit the table in Warhammer 40k…

That roll should matter.

4. Data Slates – Rules Updates & Faction Books

For this one, I’m going to say something unusual.

Don’t change a thing.

Credit where it’s due, Games Workshop has actually done a really good job supporting Warhammer 40,000 in 10th edition. Balance dataslates, frequent points updates, and quick reactions to what’s happening in the community have been a massive improvement compared to older editions. The game feels actively maintained, and that’s exactly how a modern tabletop system should work.

Do they always nail the changes? No, they don’t, but the effort counts, and I think it beats the hell out of radio silence.

So from that perspective, the current update cadence is excellent. Keep doing it.

However, there is a side effect to this approach that players have been frustrated about for years: codex books becoming outdated almost immediately.

We’ve all seen it happen. A faction book releases, players buy it, and before the ink dries, some dataslate, FAQ, or balance update changes multiple rules inside it. Suddenly, the book you just paid for no longer reflects how the army actually works.

It’s not a new problem, but with the current pace of changes, I think it’s time to rethink what faction books are supposed to be.

Instead of acting as the primary source of army rules, codexes should lean much more heavily into lore, art, strategy, narrative content, missions, and thematic mechanics that capture the identity of the faction. That’s the part of the book people actually enjoy owning.

I love the codexes, I have bought the codex for every edition of Tyranids, even when I wasn’t playing Warhammer 40k. These are awesome books full of art and lore, it’s a piece of the game and you’re going to want to own the one for your favorite faction. There is no reason to make it a requirement to own for the faction rules, people would buy these books anyway.

Because here’s one of the strangest things about playing Warhammer 40k: if you face an opponent whose faction you don’t collect, you often have no idea what their army can do unless you’ve also bought their codex.

Imagine playing a sport where you only know half the rules and your opponent knows the other half. It’s bizarre when you think about it.

Army rules should be freely available online for everyone. That way, players can understand how every faction functions, what the threats are, and how the game actually works across the full range of armies.

The reason to buy faction books shouldn’t be access to the rules, it should be because the book itself is awesome.

The art.
The lore.
The narrative campaigns.
The unique missions and faction flavor.

Players will buy those books regardless. I know I will. I love my Tyranids, if a new codex drops, I’m buying it. But I’m fully aware that the rules printed inside it will probably be outdated before it reaches my house. That’s not why I want the book.

I want it for the atmosphere of the faction and the joy of flipping through a beautiful hardcover full of alien monstrosities.

If it were up to me, I’d go even further: include the full core rulebook inside every faction book.

That way, players only need a single book for their army that contains the lore, the faction content, and the core rules for the game. Charge $60 for it, I honestly wouldn’t mind. Having one complete, self-contained book for my army would be far more useful than juggling multiple rule sources.

Meanwhile, the actual army rules and points values live online, where they can be updated quickly without invalidating the book on your shelf.

To me, that’s the best of both worlds.

5. Crusade Rules Should Use Legacy Architecture

One of my absolute favorite ways to play Warhammer 40,000 is with the Crusade rules. The idea of narrative campaigns, evolving armies, and story-driven battles fits perfectly with what 40k is supposed to be about.

But while I love the idea of Crusade, the actual campaign system leaves a lot to be desired.

The biggest issue is that it tends to follow a classic “winners win more” design. If you win a game, you gain advantages that help you win the next one. Those wins stack, the gap between players grows, and before long, the campaign starts to feel less like a tense war story and more like a slow-motion steamroll.

Tyrannic War is one of my favorite Warhammer 40k supplements ever made, this is exactly the sort of lore books I want to see for Warhammer 40k. I just wish the Crusade rules were a bit better thought out. As they are they are pretty … meh.

That kind of design can quickly drain the drama out of a campaign. Once momentum swings too far in one direction, the narrative becomes predictable, and that’s the last thing you want in a game built on epic storytelling.

But beyond that, Crusade feels like a massive missed opportunity.

If there’s one place where Warhammer 40k could really push the boundaries of tabletop design, it’s here. And honestly, I think the inspiration should come from modern legacy-style board games.

Imagine buying a Crusade campaign book that comes with a box of sealed, unlockable cards or envelopes. As battles unfold in your campaign, certain outcomes trigger hidden content. You rip open a new mission at the table and suddenly discover new lore, special battlefield conditions, or unexpected story developments. Maybe special characters are introduced, new weapons, and more. There is so much sci-fi goodness built into the 40k universe; the options here are quite limitless, and you could tie these concepts into novels, new product releases, and online content.

One battle might unlock a desperate evacuation mission.
Another might reveal a secret objective tied to an ancient alien artifact. A devastating defeat might trigger a revenge scenario two games later.

Each mission pushes the story forward and branches into new paths depending on the results of the previous battle.

Over time, players would experience a living campaign that evolves as they play. Every season, a new expansion pack could add fresh missions, new story arcs, and new unlockables that keep the narrative moving forward.

The crazy thing is that this idea is just one of about a billion ways the Crusade system could evolve. The design space here is enormous, and it feels like something Games Workshop has barely scratched the surface of.

My point is simple: Crusade should be a major pillar of the game.

Lean into the narrative side of Warhammer. Expand the campaign systems. Give players something deep, dynamic, and story-driven to sink their teeth into.

Because if any universe deserves truly epic campaign play… It’s the grim darkness of the 41st millennium.

6. Bring Back Organizational Charts/Requirements

Alright, this one might be a bit controversial.

I know a lot of players love the current “take whatever you want” style of army building in Warhammer 40,000, but I think removing organizational structures from armies has created several problems.

The first issue is lore.

Warhammer 40k isn’t just a game system; it’s a universe. The factions, the military structures, the way armies are organized in the lore… that’s a huge part of the appeal. And honestly, if the lore and atmosphere aren’t important to you, why play Warhammer 40k in the first place?

Let’s be real for a second: the game itself isn’t some cutting-edge masterpiece of modern design. It’s fragile, swingy, and still carries a lot of DNA from older tabletop systems. What makes 40k special is the setting, the factions, the scale, and the spectacle of it all.

Back when organizational charts existed, armies actually looked like armies. When you built a strike force, you expected a core of basic troops, a few vehicles, a couple of command units, exactly the way military forces are described in the lore. The structure gave armies a sense of authenticity.

I really like the idea of organizational charts being based on something. Be it a mission, a campaign or faction detachment based. I don’t want it to be a static thing that becomes part of a meta, its something you should have to decide for each match, and it should change often. The game needs to be shaken up.

Your force on the tabletop resembled something that could plausibly exist in the 41st millennium. That era is gone. I haven’t seen anything that resembles a 40k lore army during the entire 10th edition run; it’s all about optimization of unit selection.

The second issue is game balance.

Right now, one of the biggest reasons games can feel wild and swingy is because players are free to build armies purely around points optimization. The result is a lot of strange, hyper-efficient lists packed with the same units repeated over and over, while the vast majority of the catalogue doesn’t see any play at all.

Three Terminator squads.
Three Devastator squads.
Three of whatever unit happens to be mathematically optimal this month.

Players build armies to maximize efficiency, which makes perfect sense in competitive play, but it often runs completely against the spirit of the game.

This isn’t Magic: The Gathering Arena where you’re crafting the perfect competitive deck. Warhammer 40k is supposed to be a narrative war game about massive armies clashing on the battlefield.

When every list becomes a spreadsheet exercise in optimization, something gets lost.

And that leads to the third issue: collecting armies used to have a purpose.

Organizational charts encouraged players to build complete forces. Even if a particular unit wasn’t the most optimal choice, you still had a reason to include it because it was part of the structure of your army you had to fill.

You might field a unit of Tyranid Warriors not because they were mathematically perfect, but because they belonged in the force you were building.

And the best part? Your opponent was dealing with the same constraints, forcing an equalization.

Those slightly sub-optimal armies often created far more interesting games than the current environment, where every list tries to cram in the most efficient units possible.

Now, I’m not necessarily saying we should go all the way back to the exact force organization charts of older editions.

What I’d really like to see is an organizational structure tied to detachments.

When you choose a detachment, it should influence what units you bring or can bring. Your army should naturally evolve around that theme. Collecting and painting would feel like building toward something specific instead of just optimizing a list.

Your Tyranid army and my Tyranid army could both be powerful, but in completely different ways.

Maybe your detachment encourages units A, B, and C.
Mine encourages D, E, and F. You can have x4 of A unit, but I can’t have any at all!

Now our armies look different. They play differently. They feel like distinct forces instead of slight variations of the same optimized list.

Right now, detachments rarely influence what units you actually bring. Instead, players build the most optimized army possible and then simply choose whichever detachment works best with that list.

Everything else becomes “sub-optimal,” and because everyone else is optimizing too, bringing anything less efficient often means getting crushed by turn one or two.

At that point, the system is forcing players toward the same narrow set of choices just to stay competitive.

And that’s exactly the kind of problem organizational structures used to solve.

Bring back some form of structured army building, and I think you’ll see more thematic armies, more diverse lists, and far more interesting games on the table.

7. Make Internal Balance The Priority

Organizational charts can help encourage a wider spread of units in an army, but they only work if the units themselves are actually worth taking.

And that brings us to one of the biggest long-standing issues in Warhammer 40,000: internal balance.

If the internal balance of a faction is off, then any kind of structural army requirement just forces players into an awkward situation. Instead of encouraging variety, it simply makes people field units they don’t enjoy because they have to, even when those units are clearly underpowered.

And that’s not fun for anyone.

One of the most frustrating things in 40k is looking at your shelf full of beautifully painted miniatures and realizing that half of them just aren’t viable on the table. There are so many fantastic models in this game that players would love to use, but the reality is that many of them are so inefficient compared to other units at the same point cost that they simply never get fielded.

Unless, of course, you’re intentionally running a sub-optimal army.

That’s always a bad feeling.

Take my Tyrannocyte, for example. It’s a really cool model. I love the concept, the look, and the idea of it smashing onto the battlefield like a giant alien drop pod.

But at 105 points, it’s barely worth half that in actual game value. So it sits on the shelf.

And that’s a shame.

Owning models that you love but suck in the game is a real shame. Your options are to use them anyway and probably lose matches as a result, or not use them and be pissed about that. Internal balance is a crucial element to a game’s design, and GW really needs to get it right. I think there is a lot that can be done to make this happen.

This is why internal balance should be a major focus of 11th edition. Every unit in a faction should feel like a legitimate option. Not necessarily the best choice, but at least something you could reasonably include without feeling like you’re handicapping yourself.

At the same time, the game needs to avoid units that become automatic “take three” choices in every list. When one or two units dominate the efficiency curve, the entire faction’s army design collapses into a predictable formula.

And suddenly everyone’s running the exact same army, which is exactly what you saw in 10th edition. Tons of options, but everyone is running variations of the same small selection of lists. Most of the catalogue is just not seeing any play.

Internal balance might sound like a basic concept, but it’s absolutely critical to the health of the game. If every unit has a clear role and a fair point value, players can build armies based on theme, creativity, and personal taste instead of just chasing the most efficient spreadsheet entries.

And that’s the kind of Warhammer 40k most people actually want to play.

8. Improved Mission Design

I touched on this earlier when talking about Crusade, but this issue goes deeper than narrative play. It’s really about the structure of missions and how victories are determined in Warhammer 40k.

Right now, 10th edition often feels less like a battle and more like a Euro-style worker placement board game wearing a Warhammer costume.

You’re not always fighting a war, you’re playing a strange sub-game where units run around the table doing random administrative tasks in order to score points. Scan this objective. Perform that action. Score five points here, two points there.

The result is a bizarre level of victory point granularity that constantly pulls players away from the actual battle happening on the table.

Instead of focusing on the clash of armies, you end up sending units off to perform strategically questionable or thematically nonsensical actions simply because that’s how you score points.

And it feels… weird.

I understand what GW was going for here, and I don’t even think its nescessarily bad design, but it slows the game down, and the result is a kind of disconnect from the main focus of the game, which is the battlefield. Missions need to be a lot simpler, make the game about the fight, not some weird side game about point scoring.

A lot of the current objectives feel forced, as if someone decided the game needed a certain amount of scoring complexity and then a design team had to invent a hundred different ways to make that happen. The design process feels backwards, a chicken before the egg; the points system came first, and the mission ideas were built afterward just to justify it.

Mechanically, the game suffers because of it.

At its core, Warhammer 40k is about two armies colliding on a battlefield. The missions should reinforce that idea, not distract from it. Objectives should be simple, clear, and grounded in the logic of the setting.

Things like: Take that hill and hold it, destroy the shield generator, or secure the landing zone.

You can still build interesting missions around those ideas. You could even introduce phased objectives, capture the objective, plant the explosives, destroy the structure, and escape before reinforcements arrive. Missions like that feel connected to the world of the game and create natural storytelling moments during play.

I especially dislike “surprise” scoring opportunities. Drawing a card and hoping that it gives you a chance to make an easy score somewhere is not a strategy; it’s luck, and neither player can do anything to predict its coming.

Players should always have a clear understanding of how to win the game.

And right now, that’s often not the case.

The current mission system is so packed with scoring mechanics that half the time, a winner is decided because someone forgot about a particular mission card or missed a scoring opportunity buried in the rules, or just got lucky with the card draws.

I’ve played a lot of 10th edition games, and I can honestly say I’ve never sat down after a match and had someone confidently explain every way points could have been scored in that game. There are just too many objectives, too many scoring triggers, and too many little systems layered on top of each other.

So players tend to fall into one of two traps. They either ignore the battle and focus purely on farming points, which is dull. Or they focus on the battle, wipe out the enemy army… and still lose because of the scoring system.

Few things feel stranger than getting tabled and still winning the game.

At that point, the mission system isn’t supporting the battle; it’s supporting a gaming system, and that feels off to me in the backdrop of a Warhammer 40k battle.

What I’d love to see in 11th edition is a complete rethink of the mission design philosophy. Objectives should be intuitive, thematic, and clearly tied to what’s happening on the battlefield, and it would be icing on the cake if they were tied to thematic event-driven stories in the game world.

Because at the end of the day, Warhammer 40k should feel like what it is supposed to be: A massive science-fiction battle in the 40k universe.

Better Vehicle and Aircraft Rules

At this point, I feel like I’m just pointing out problems that every Warhammer 40k player already knows exist.

And nothing illustrates that better than the vehicle and aircraft rules in Warhammer 40k.

I honestly doubt you could find a player anywhere on God’s green earth who thinks the current system works particularly well. Vehicles and aircraft have been a design headache for years, and they’re still one of the most awkward parts of the game.

The core problem is that these units almost always land in one of two extremes.

Either they are absurdly durable, borderline unkillable unless you’re packing the heaviest anti-tank weapons in the game, or they’re so fragile that they barely function as vehicles at all.

There rarely seems to be a middle ground.

The rules themselves, especially for aircraft, are often strange, overly complicated, and sometimes downright nonsensical. Movement restrictions, special targeting rules, weird interactions with terrain… the whole system often feels like it’s fighting against the rest of the game.

In fact, aircraft have been so problematic over the years that many tournaments and organized play events have simply banned them outright because the rules create too many headaches.

That’s not a great sign.

These are cool models, and I love them, but if Aircraft are going to be in the game they need much better rules than what we have right now, and I think GW knows it.

What vehicles and aircraft really need are simple, cinematic rules that fit the spectacle of Warhammer 40k. These units should feel powerful and exciting on the battlefield without turning into some kind of obscure combo card that breaks the game.

They should be big, dramatic pieces of the battlefield, tanks rumbling forward under heavy fire, gunships screaming across the sky, not strange mechanical puzzles that nobody wants to deal with.

And the funny thing is, if you look around the community, there are hundreds of house rules people have come up with to fix these problems.

At this point, many of those community solutions are honestly better than what Games Workshop has implemented over the years.

So if 11th edition is looking for a place to start cleaning things up, this is an easy win.

Vehicles and aircraft don’t need complicated rules. They just need good ones. I don’t have a suggestion, I’m not a game designer, that’s GW’s job, I just know when something sucks and vehicle and aircraft rules, certainly do suck!

Faster Gameplay

Warhammer 40k has always had a lot of rules, but honestly, I don’t think the rules themselves are the main reason the game feels so slow today.

The real problem is everything else we’ve already talked about on this wish list.

Stratagems and Command Points slow the game down.
Overcomplicated terrain rules slow the game down.
Dice re-rolls slow the game down a lot (like, literally adds at least 1 hour + to the game).

But even beyond those issues, there’s another major factor that rarely gets discussed enough: the game just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

With each edition of Warhammer 40k, the “standard” game size has crept upward. Today, the default expectation is a 2,000-point game, which seems normal, but 2,000 points today is not really 2,000 points.

The problem is that at the same time, unit costs have steadily decreased over each edition. The result is that a modern 2,000-point army contains far more models and units than it used to. In practical terms, a 2,000-point army today feels closer to what a 3,000-point army looked like two editions ago.

That’s a massive increase in size, and that equals a massive increase in time needed to finish a game.

Large, slow games are really bad for the tournament scene as well. People have to rush through games, and it’s common during tournaments that games are “called” rather than finished. The game needs a major improvement in speed, a match should be playable within 2-3 hours maximum without having to speed through it, and it feeling like there is insane time pressure on the players.

There are so many units on the table now that, in some missions, it’s literally not possible to deploy everything because there isn’t enough physical space on the board. And to make matters worse, the boards themselves have actually gotten smaller over time.

So what you end up with is essentially a knife fight in a phone booth, packed with units, abilities, rolls, re-rolls, and re-rolls of re-rolls.

It’s chaos.

Personally, I believe the time it takes to play a game of 40k could be reduced by as much as 75% without sacrificing any of the fun, if the rules were streamlined and the core structure of the game was designed around gameplay rather than simply encouraging players to buy more models.

Now, realistically, I don’t expect Games Workshop to change that philosophy anytime soon. But as a community, it might be time to start questioning the assumption that 2,000 points is the “standard” game size.

Because at today’s unit costs, it really isn’t.

In fact, it’s kind of absurd.

A modern 2,000-point game often feels less like a tactical wargame and more like Yahtzee with miniatures, a chaotic avalanche of dice rolls where the sheer volume of units overwhelms any meaningful strategy.

And the worst part is how long it takes.

At this point, finishing a full game of 40k in a single evening is becoming increasingly difficult. In my experience, about half of our games don’t even finish. Eventually, someone looks at the clock, realizes it’s getting late, and we just call it.

A typical game can easily run four to six hours, and if players aren’t moving quickly, it can stretch to eight hours or more. Happens all the time for me.

That’s just not reasonable.

If there’s one big wish I have for 11th edition, it’s that the designers take a serious look at reducing army sizes and tightening the overall structure of the game. Combine that with improvements to the other issues on this list, and the result could be a faster, smoother, and far more enjoyable experience.

Because at the end of the day, Warhammer 40k should be something you can play and finish in an evening, not an endurance test.

Conclusion

For an article that started out by praising 10th edition of Warhammer 40,000, I sure did spend a lot of time complaining.

But the truth is, I really do think it’s been a great edition. It’s had a strong run and introduced some genuinely good ideas. The problem isn’t that 10th edition is bad, it’s that it’s starting to feel a little rusty.

And the reality is that Warhammer 40k is no longer competing against its own previous editions. The tabletop gaming world has evolved. There are plenty of modern games now proving that with clean mechanics and thoughtful design, you can have a fast, snappy, and highly enjoyable experience at the table. Sure, most of these games don’t have the staying power, but they do illustrate what can be done with good game design.

I’d love to see Warhammer 40k embrace some of that design philosophy.

At the same time, I completely understand that 40k is its own kind of game. It should be bigger, heavier, and more dramatic than most tabletop systems. That’s part of its identity. But I also think it already achieves that depth through its factions, units, and battlefield interactions, even without the extra layers that have accumulated over the years.

Stratagem bloat, overly complex mission scoring, endless re-roll mechanics, none of those things are necessary for the game to feel deep or meaningful. Somewhere in the middle, there’s a sweet spot, and I think Warhammer 40k could absolutely reach it.

I’m not asking for a massive overhaul of the system. What I’d really like to see is optimization and efficiency, small but meaningful improvements that smooth out the rough edges.

More than anything, I want Warhammer 40k to feel less like an ordeal at the table.

Collecting and painting miniatures should absolutely remain a big part of the hobby. That investment of time, creativity, and effort is one of the things that makes Warhammer special, and I would never want to see that aspect simplified or diminished.

But once the models are painted and you’re ready to set up a game, that experience should be lighthearted and fun.

It should feel exciting, not confusing.
Enjoyable, not frustrating.
And above all, it should be fast, smooth, and satisfying to play.

In Theory: Is Star Wars Shatterpoint A Good Miniature Game?

Shatterpoint, in my experience, is one of those games I orbit like a curious satellite, drawn in by proximity to someone who collects it, intrigued enough to play from time to time, but still waiting for that Force-tinged spark to pull me fully into the gravity well. I’ve danced around the edge of commitment more times than I can count. I’ve even had Shatterpoint boxes in my cart at Alphaspel.se, but each time, I’ve backed out at the final checkout like Admiral Akbar sensing a trap.

Don’t get me wrong: the miniatures are phenomenal, arguably the finest Star Wars sculpts on the market. The scale is just right, and it hits that sweet spot of the galaxy far, far away: up-close and personal lightsaber clashes, blaster duels, and cinematic showdowns between iconic characters. It’s Star Wars at its most visceral. And Shatterpoint nails that vibe.

And yet… I hesitate.

This isn’t the only game that puts me in this strange force dyad of admiration and ambivalence. Take Marvel: Crisis Protocol, I love the Marvel universe, truly, and Crisis Protocol delivers some of the most stunning superhero miniatures I’ve ever seen, wrapped in a concept that practically screams “perfect game night.” Super squads brawling across a cityscape? That’s pure comic book gold. And still, I find myself asking the same uncomfortable question.

I love all things Marvel, I feel literal pain that I don’t own these miniatures, but for me, a miniature game has to be more than just nice miniatures. Collection and gameplay have to be inseparable partners that live side by side as equals.

Are these actually good games?

In today’s In Theory article, we’re zeroing in on Star Wars: Shatterpoint. I want to break down why I think it might be a great game… and also why I suspect it might not be. Let’s get into it!

Star Wars: Shatterpoint as a premise

When Star Wars: Shatterpoint was first announced, it landed at a time when the Star Wars tabletop scene was, let’s be honest, already more crowded than the Mos Eisley cantina on a Saturday night. I’d spent years navigating asteroid fields with X-Wing, commanding fleets in Armada, and my Legion core box was still sitting half-painted like a forgotten protocol droid in a junkyard. And don’t even get me started on Star Wars: Destiny, that game was my cardboard crack, I was blowing money on it like I won the lottery. It was just… a lot. Too much Star Wars plastic, too many dice, too many rules bouncing around my head.

So when Shatterpoint came along, I made a decision, a prequel-style “this is how democracy dies” kind of decision, to skip it. Not because I thought it looked bad, but because I had officially hit Star Wars saturation. My shelves were already groaning under the weight of the galaxy far, far away. Even my wife, god love her, whose tolerance for my bullshit is significantly higher than I imagine most wives, gave me the stank eye as I was scrolling Star Wars Shatterpoint mini’s on my iPad.

Star Wars Shatterpoint is absolutely gorgeous; there is absolutely nothing in the market today that can compete, in my opinion. From a visual aesthetic perspective, it’s worth collecting these miniatures just for collecting’s sake.

My decision did not discourage my local gaming crew; several of my friends dove in headfirst, and that gave me plenty of chances to test the game out. And not at all that surprising, my first impression of the game was that it was quite brilliant.

Not perfect, but brilliant.

The core concept of Shatterpoint is rock solid. It leans into what makes Star Wars great: iconic characters in dynamic, cinematic combat. Each unit is asymmetrically powered, meaning Obi-Wan doesn’t feel like Maul, and Maul sure as hell doesn’t feel like Ahsoka. The gameplay itself is objective-driven, fast-paced, and surprisingly smooth, no mid-battle rulebook diving, just action.

Even early on, it felt like there was a ton of room for variety and growth baked into the system, a wide-open hyperspace lane for future expansions, modes, and narrative twists. As a premise, Shatterpoint struck me as one of the most clever designs to come out of the Star Wars gaming space in years.

Even as the game’s initial impression had me grinning from ear to ear, reconsidering my decision to pass on it, I could not shake the feeling that something was both familiar and ever so slightly off.

A Lack of Drama

To understand my hesitation, you have to know a bit about my gaming history, and one of my more cockamamie theories about why I love miniature games in the first place. This is important because if you’re interested in Shatterpoint (or any miniature game), you should know what kind of gamer you are. It’s not always just about reviews and opinions; style and preference should always be considered first and foremost when considering a game for your collection.

So, Marvel: Crisis Protocol came out a few years before Shatterpoint, and the two games share more than a few mechanical similarities. In fact, you could argue they’re essentially the same game wearing different thematic costumes. I wouldn’t entirely sign off on that claim; they do have key differences that give each its own identity, but they clearly spring from the same design philosophy: objective-based gameplay first, theme and setting a distant second.

Star Wars X-Wing didn’t really have objectives, and when they were added later, they didn’t really matter that much, but that was ok because X-Wing just tapped into the Star Wars universe feel with perfection. Feel is a real thing, and when you play enough games, you just know it when it’s there, it sometimes really is just that simple with games.

And that, right there, is where my main issue lies.

To explain that issue properly, I need to be clear about what I value most in a miniatures game. For me, theme, setting, and feel come first, not balance, not clean mechanics, not elegant game loops. I see miniature games as an extension of roleplaying; they should feel like small, tactical stories unfolding on the tabletop. If a game can reflect and bring to life its setting through its mechanics, not just its art and models, that’s when I really connect with it.

I’m not sure that makes perfect sense, but basically: I’d rather a game be thematically authentic than mechanically perfect. I want it to feel like the world it’s portraying, even if that means it’s a little clunky or chaotic. The game should simulate the soul of its universe.

That’s probably why I love games like The Middle-Earth Strategy Battle Game, Warhammer 40,000, Blood Bowl, BattleTech, and Star Wars: X-Wing. These games may not be celebrated for their balance or cutting-edge design, but they ooze theme. They play like the worlds they represent. On the other hand, critically acclaimed games like Infinity, Malifaux, or Moonstone, as clever and well-designed as they are, just don’t light that same fire in me. Some I’ve tried. Others I haven’t, because I already know they don’t scratch the same itch.

Take BattleTech, for example. I know it’s not a brilliant design. It’s slow, it’s random, and sometimes it falls apart under its own weight. But it gives me exactly what I want: a messy, explosive mech brawl where missiles fly, limbs get blown off, and heat sinks explode. It’s unpredictable and thematic, and determining a winner is not nearly as important as creating a great memory of that time when X or Y happened. It lives and breathes its world unapologetically, catering to fans of the genre and the story behind the game.

Battletech is an odd mixture so far as games go because the details on a battlemech’s character sheet go further than most RPGs, the rules are thick with unique weaponry and tactics, and the game itself can be excessively long. Yet from a core mechanic perspective, it’s basically a Yatzee dice chucker. You have very limited control over the outcomes of a game, a single missile can ignite an ammo store on your mech and blow you up and it’s game over.

Now enter Shatterpoint, and here’s where my core issue kicks in.

Shatterpoint plays more like a game of chess. Yes, the characters have distinct powers and abilities connected to the Star Wars Universe, but at the end of the day, their job is the same: stand on an objective, push enemies off, and score struggle points to win. It’s a positioning puzzle, a tactical game of movement. Victory isn’t about winning an awesome duel between Vader and Skywalker or taking out the enemy Bounty Hunter or some story arc in the Star Wars universe; it’s about board control, and it’s exclusively and only about that.

The one thing Shatterpoint does well that brings it closer to its theme and makes up for some of the other failures to bring Star Wars to life is the characters. Every character’s powers are distinctly unique and very in tune with their on-screen personas. I think Shatterpoint nailed it in this department.

And that creates a disconnect. It’s supposed to be a game about epic, cinematic duels between legendary characters (that’s on the tin!), but that sense of drama just isn’t there and is often even discouraged. Instead, you get a sterile, tactical experience where the theme takes a back seat.

You may be tempted, for example, to have Obi-Wan descend upon Darth Maul to let them have an epic duel out in the open field because it’s awesome, but everything about that from a gameplay perspective is a mistake. You fight only when it serves the objective, you certainly don’t leave an objective for someone else to grab and it’s far better to send someone less powerful to face Darth Maul to keep him busy, rather than simply fight him for awesome fighting’s sake. That sort of decision-making is not only common but almost mandatory for success. The game doesn’t encourage or reward doing the cool stuff or taking risks; it encourages smart tactical play that serves the purpose of scoring objective points so you can win the struggle.

That might be fine if the struggle had some meaning or story behind it, but unfortunately, that is not the case.

The struggle is a sort of nameless, faceless, inanimate “thing” left undefined beyond the mechanical purpose it serves in the game to determine a winner. You’re not trying to disable the Death Star’s power or blow up the shield generator; you’re trying to score X points before the opponent does. That’s the whole game, every mission is the same, all that changes is some minor thing like which objectives you can score on this round or some quirky special power you might get when drawing a shatter card.

The Struggle Tracker, don’t get me wrong, is a very clever mechanic that builds tension and makes your goals in the game very clear, but it just doesn’t really represent or depict anything. It’s just this abstract thing that’s there to remind you if you’re winning or losing.

Don’t get me wrong, the mechanics are sharp. The game is well-designed. It’s an interesting, engaging system. But the Star Wars theme doesn’t matter to the gameplay itself, nor do the circumstances of the battle have any meaning, being indistinct “brawls” for positional control. Even the objective carries no thematic weight; being nothing more than a “spot” on the field, you need to be within 2 inches to control. It’s all very pragmatic, absent of any meaning, story, or connection to the Star Wars universe. A terrible missed opportunity!

I bring up Marvel: Crisis Protocol in the same conversation because it suffers from the exact same issue. For all the cool miniatures and superhero flair, the gameplay doesn’t reflect the universe it’s based on in any meaningful way. It’s not a battle between Dr. Strange and a multiverse demon to control the book of Vishanti; it’s a contest of who can hold objective A or B long enough to score enough points before the round ends. It’s just absent of the flavor that makes the Marvel Universe, its history, and setting special and fun.

Marvel Crisis Protocol, in a way, is a worse offender in the absence of theme, setting, and story connection as a game. There is literally an unlimited amount of story material on which to build events, missions, and stories for the game. For them to settle on abstract objectives, completely disconnecting the game from this potential, is, I would argue, inexcusable.

Both games, I don’t want to say, feel soulless, but lack a certain commitment to simulating and supporting the theme and the cinematic spectacle you hope to discover when you play them. That’s a harsh critique, I know, but it’s the one thing that keeps me from diving into either of them; no matter how good the sculpts look or how tight the mechanics are, these games more or less boils down to a game of positioning. There is no story, induction of Star Wars or Marvel events, or a meaningful way in which the setting’s epicness comes to the surface.

Is it a fun game? Is it a good game?

Those are relative questions, and when it comes to Star Wars: Shatterpoint, the answer depends entirely on what you think makes a miniature game fun or good in the first place. There’s no objective measure here. It’s all a matter of personal taste, and that’s the exact crossroads where I find myself.

From my perspective, Shatterpoint is a well-designed game. It’s streamlined, it runs cleanly, and there’s very little rules ambiguity. The tactical puzzle is real and rewarding, especially if that’s the kind of game you enjoy. And if you’re the type who thrives on smart plays, tight decisions, and clever planning, then yes, it’s fun. In that regard, it delivers.

And I do enjoy it, at least to a degree. There’s something undeniably satisfying about seeing iconic Star Wars characters brought to life on the tabletop. I’m not completely opposed to brainy, tactical games either. Shatterpoint challenges you to think ahead, adapt, and outmaneuver. It’s a solid mental workout.

But for me, the experience falls short in one crucial area: the connection between game and setting.

Yes, the game has objectives, but they are abstract, disconnected from the world they’re supposed to represent. I love a good mission-driven game, but only if those missions feel rooted in the narrative. If Shatterpoint had objectives that tied into iconic Star Wars moments or scenarios, or even just leaned harder into the drama of its duels, I think it would go from an “interesting game” to a great experience.

Instead, it stops just short. It teases greatness, but doesn’t quite land it. It’s missing something vital, and tragically, that something happens to be the only thing that truly matters to me. The one and pretty much only thing I care about when I play a miniature game.

A good story.

And so ends the anxiety over whether or not I will buy into Shatterpoint.

It’s just not meant to be.

In Theory: Blood Bowl

Over the past year, I’ve scribbled my fair share of articles about the world of miniature gaming, dissecting battlelines, praising plastic warriors, and waxing poetic about the clash of dice and destiny. Most of these musings were met with nods of agreement and the occasional slow clap. But one article in particular, Miniature Game Theory: Picking The Right Game For You, drew a bit of well-deserved ire and blood.

You see, amidst my ramblings on tactical titans and strategic skirmishes, I made one glaring, unforgivable, pitch-cleat-to-the-face omission.

I forgot Blood Bowl.

Now, before the angry mobs of orc coaches and elf cheerleaders throw me into the dugout pit, let me offer a half-decent defense.

To me, miniature gaming has always meant clashing armies, measured movement, and the kind of tactical geometry that gives you flashbacks to high school math class. Blood Bowl, on the other hand, always felt like something… different. It straddles the line between board game and miniatures skirmish, with equal parts playbook planning and pure, glorious chaos. And let’s not forget, it’s a sports game. A violent, foul-heavy, ref-bribing sports game, but a sports game nonetheless.

Still, none of that excuses the omission. The critics were right. Blood Bowl deserves a seat at the table, preferably next to the Apothecary and the guy with the chainsaw. And that’s what we’re going to fix today.

So strap on your spiked shoulder pads, roll for kickoff, and prepare to finally give the neckbeards favorite pastime the column inches it deserves.

What Is Blood Bowl

Blood Bowl, for the uninitiated (or recently resurrected), is best described as a tactical miniatures game that takes the bones of American Football and Rugby, grinds them up, and feeds them to a Chaos Ogre. Then it tosses in a generous helping of gladiatorial carnage and calls it a sport. It’s a game where bribery is encouraged, fouls are strategic, and fatalities are not only possible, they’re frequent. And frankly, it’s glorious.

Blood Bowl is not your typical miniature game, in fact, there is nothing out there quite like it so when I describe it to people I don’t have that “its like X game” option.

But beneath the splattered turf and broken helmets lies something more: a legacy game in disguise. That’s right, while Blood Bowl thrives on short-term brutality, it’s also built for long-term storytelling. Using a term borrowed from the board game world, Blood Bowl has legacy elements baked in from the very start. The core design encourages players to form leagues where teams grow, change, and suffer (often hilariously) over time. A broken arm in Game 1 becomes a permanent stat penalty in Game 2. That rookie Goblin who miraculously scored a touchdown? He might become a local legend, until a Minotaur eats him.

Each coach manages a team roster, complete with gold to spend and experience to earn. You can hire new players, upgrade existing ones, or blow your hard-earned winnings on apothecaries, cheerleaders, assistant coaches, rerolls, and, let’s be honest, illegal enhancements. Managing a Blood Bowl team is as much about off-the-field decisions as it is about on-the-pitch mayhem.

And it’s this long-form play, the drama, the rivalries, the heartbreak of losing your star player to a troll’s critical hit, that gives Blood Bowl its soul. It’s also what fuels the thriving community around the game. Thanks to excellent digital versions of Blood Bowl (complete with online leagues and tournaments), the connection between tabletop and digital play is stronger than a Black Orc on protein powder. Online play allows coaches to test builds, strategies, and teams before diving into physical leagues, and sometimes, it even helps keep local scenes alive between game nights.

These days Blood Bowl is more commonly known as a PC game rather than a table-top game, but even the PC game is essentially a perfect replication of the table-top game.

Blood Bowl originally hit the pitch back in the mid-1980s, and while there was a brief two-decade hiatus in official support, the game is now back in full swing. Games Workshop has returned to the sport with renewed vigor, offering modern rules, fresh miniatures, and a starter box that’s actually worth its weight in warpstone.

One of the most charming aspects of Blood Bowl is its timeless design. Believe it or not, if you bought a team back in 1988, be it Elves, Dwarves, or Undead, you can still field them today. Try saying that about your 6th Edition Bretonnians. The rules are also mostly unchanged, amounting to minor improvements at best.

Like many of Games Workshop titles, its origin story takes us back to the 80’s when miniatures were more comedic and less detailed. Unlike most of of GW’s other titles, collecting classic Blood Bowl miniatures is considered prestigious. These guys hold a higher value than modern released versions, they are collectables.

Games Workshop offers a fantastic line of new miniatures (and they look great), and the barrier to entry remains blessedly low. In most cases, all you need is a team box and a willingness to watch your star player trip over his own feet in front of the endzone. It’s affordable, accessible, and hilarious, even when it hurts, which is a lot more than you can say about most miniature games.

Does Classic Mean Old?

When it comes to the preservation of classic tabletop games, think Dungeons & Dragons, Battletech, and other old-school titans, you’ll often find that the rules carry the unmistakable scent of their era: crunchy, clunky, and sometimes downright arcane. And hey, there’s charm in that… for some.

Take Battletech, for instance. A glorious monument to heat sinks and hex maps, sure, but its ruleset has remained largely untouched since the ’80s, and it shows. For modern gamers raised on sleek mechanics and intuitive design, jumping into Battletech can feel a bit like learning a programming language written on punch cards. There’s depth, yes, but also baggage. I would best describe it as fun, but slow and inefficient. It’s not the sort of game that someone would design and release today.

I love my Battletech! But despite the modern miniatures updates that give the game the appearance of a new game, these old rules have not held up particularly well.

Now here’s where Blood Bowl laces up its cleats and punts expectations right off the pitch.

Despite its age, Blood Bowl was surprisingly streamlined even in its earliest incarnations. The rules were (and still are) built for speed and clarity. Sure, a few tweaks and refinements have improved component handling and smoothed out some edges, but the core mechanics have endured with little change, and they still hold up. In fact, if Blood Bowl: Season 2 (the latest edition) dropped today with no prior legacy attached, most gamers would likely assume it was a brand-new design. That’s how ahead of its time it was.

Where many games of its era are now museum pieces dusted off by nostalgics in denim jackets, Blood Bowl feels fully at home on the modern tabletop. It’s not a crusty relic propped up by rose-tinted memories. It’s a lean, mean, dice-fueled machine that still delivers tight gameplay and absurd fun.

That said… who’s it actually for?

Well, not everyone, I think.

I wouldn’t say Blood Bowl is for the “typical miniature gamer”, especially not the ones who take their grimdark lore and optimized builds very seriously. This isn’t a game about carefully measured movement and flawless tactical control. Blood Bowl is a chaotic, violence-riddled sports comedy with rules, where Nuffle (the in-game god of dice) laughs at your plans and your best-laid strategies are one skull roll away from disaster.

It’s a game that knows it’s silly, and leans hard into it, but it’s also definitely a sports game and loving competative sports, especially any variation on football, is kind of a must.

Yes, long-time coaches will rightly tell you that there’s deep strategy involved. And they’re not wrong. But that strategy is built on risk management, not total control. Blood Bowl is as much about gambling as it is about game theory. You’re constantly calculating odds: “Should I go for it on a 2+ with a reroll?” “Is that 33% dodge worth it to get the ball loose?” Every turn is a little bet, a tiny act of defiance against the statistical gods.

Blood Bowl Leagues are serious business for fans, there are leagues that have been ongoing for years to such a degree that some of them had to introduce character ages to force star players to retire. There is a lot of love that goes into these things.

The critical mechanic of this game, The Turnover, is why these calculations are so critical. You have to know your odds because a single failed roll during your turn can results in your turn ending and being turned over to your opponent. This unpredictable element is key to the game and what makes it such a chaotic and unpredictable monster players struggle to wrangle in. It’s in part, a push your luck game.

This is part of what makes the game so addictive. It creates a shared language among coaches, a constant mental flowchart of odds, modifiers, and dice probabilities. It’s part sports simulator, part board game, part bad day at the office for your troll. This is also what makes it such a niche product that isn’t comparable to anything else out there. You can’t say that Blood Bowl is like X or Y game, there is no equivalent, the only way to know if Blood Bowl will work for you is to play it a few times and see.

Blood Bowls blend of humor, stats, and drama is why the community around Blood Bowl is so strong, and so enduring. Despite being a niche within a niche, it boasts one of the most active organized play scenes in all of miniature gaming. Leagues flourish, tournaments abound (both online and offline), and new players are constantly drawn into the mayhem.

To put it plainly: Blood Bowl isn’t some dusty throwback clung to by aging grognards in spiked shoulder pads. It’s a vibrant, living game that continues to thrive because it’s fun, smart, and brutally entertaining.

Getting Into The Game

Like most miniature games, the best way to get into Blood Bowl is the old-fashioned way: find a friend who already plays. Nothing beats seeing two fully painted teams clash on the pitch, dice flying and players dying, while someone explains the rules mid-chaos. A quick exhibition match on a proper tabletop is still the most natural, and frankly, the most Blood Bowlian, way to get started.

Now, technically, there’s another option: the digital version.

And while I admit it’s tempting, especially when it’s sitting right there on Steam, promising instant games and zero glue fumes, I do not recommend starting your Blood Bowl journey digitally.

Here’s why.

There’s nothing more damaging to the tabletop experience than discovering the ultimate life-hack shortcut: a fully automated app that plays the game for you. Suddenly, you start asking dangerous questions like, “Why would I buy a $100 box set, spend hours assembling miniatures, then weeks painting them, just to play something I can click through in five minutes?”

The new starter set revitalized Blood Bowl as a table top game, but the digital version (Blood Bowl 3) is still considered the premiere way to run leagues with a larger audience.

And just like that, the magic dies.

For me, trying a game digitally before ever touching it physically almost always kills my interest in buying in. I can’t explain it entirely, but something about the immediacy, the convenience, the cleanliness of digital versions just flattens the anticipation and wonder that comes with setting up a real tabletop game.

That said, and here’s the kicker, Blood Bowl’s digital version is fantastic.

Blood Bowl 3, the latest digital edition, is a faithful, pitch-perfect adaptation of the tabletop experience. Every rule, every team, every hilarious misstep is there. Team management? Yep. League play? Absolutely. Injuries, star player points, stat tracking? All of it. It’s not a watered-down spin-off, it’s the same game, just rendered in shiny 3D with animations that let you see a goblin get punted halfway across the pitch.

Most miniature games wish they had a digital version this good. Many don’t have one at all, or rely on awkward virtual tabletops that take hours to set up and feel like spreadsheets with dice rollers.

But even with Blood Bowl 3 being that good, I still say: don’t start there.

Why? Because you only get one “first” experience. And Blood Bowl is a game meant to be played in-person, across a board, preferably while yelling at your opponent and shaking your dice like they owe you money. Once you’ve played the real thing, the digital version becomes a brilliant complement, letting you dive into more matches, meet other coaches, and explore league play without sacrificing the charm of the tabletop.

So where should you start?

The Season Two Starter Set. Yeah, it’s a cliché answer, but clichés exist for a reason.

Games Workshop nailed it with this one. The box includes two excellent beginner-friendly teams: the tough-as-nails Orcs and the well-rounded Imperial Nobility. You also get a high-quality cardboard pitch, all the templates and tokens you need, a full set of dice, and most importantly, the hardcover core rulebook, which alone is worth more than half the price of the box.

These aren’t watered-down beginner teams, either. Ask any Blood Bowl veteran what teams are great for new coaches, and these two will come up nearly every time.

What makes Blood Bowl especially refreshing is that unlike most miniatures games, you’re usually one or two purchases away from a full collection. A single team box is, in most cases, all you need. No sprawling codex collections. No dozens of units. No plastic terrain filling your closet like you’re prepping for diorama doomsday. Just a team, a pitch, and some dice.

Yes, there are extras you can buy, alternate star players, fancy dice, deluxe pitches, custom dugouts, but they’re exactly that: extras. Optional bling. The hobby equivalent of end-zone dances. You don’t need them to enjoy the game.

Lets Talk About The Game

Okay, weird header, I know. I’ve spent most of this article already raving about Blood Bowl’s rules, gameplay, and culture. But now I want to get a bit more practical. Let’s talk about the experience: what actually happens when you sit down to play? What should a new coach expect?

Blood Bowl is a game drenched in chaos, yes, but beyond the fumbled balls and crushed skulls, there are some real-world considerations players always ask about:

  • How long does it take?
  • How complex is it?
  • Is it balanced?
  • How often do the rules change?

Let’s tackle those one by one, starting with the most common question:

How Long Does a Game of Blood Bowl Take?

Simple question. Not-so-simple answer.

On average, a game takes around 2 to 2.5 hours. A fast match between experienced coaches might clock in at 90 minutes, while a slow-paced or rule-heavy game (especially with new players or heavy league play) can stretch up to 4 hours.

Why the wide range? Blame it on one of Blood Bowl’s most iconic mechanics: the Turnover rule.

In Blood Bowl, each player gets 8 turns per half, 16 total. But here’s the twist, your turn ends the moment you fail a key action. That failed dodge, botched handoff, or mistimed block? Boom. Turn over. Your opponent’s turn starts immediately.

This is pretty much everything you need to play. Two teams, the pitch and some dice. The modern starter set comes with various cheat sheets, templates and of course the book which just makes the game easier to manage on the table, but even these things most would consider unnecessary extras, bonus bling!

That means some turns might see a coach moving and acting with every player on their team, setting up clever plays and scoring touchdowns. Other turns might end after the very first roll. So the game’s pace is wildly variable, equal parts strategy, suspense, and slapstick comedy.

You don’t always have to play every turn.

In casual games, especially one-off exhibition matches, it’s common to call the game early if the score’s out of reach and the outcome is inevitable. This isn’t something you’d do in a league (where every touchdown and casualty could affect the standings or your team’s progression), but for friendly matches, early concessions can easily shave an hour off the game.

Blood Bowl isn’t exactly a “quick lunchtime skirmish” kind of game, but for what you get, the time investment is more than worth it. Every game is a full-blown story, packed with dramatic comebacks, heartbreaking dice rolls, and more than a few moments of “Did that really just happen?”

Complexity

From the perspective of your average miniature wargamer, Blood Bowl sits comfortably in the low to mid-range of complexity, depending entirely on how deep you dive.

If you’re just dabbling, grabbing some stock teams and playing casual one-off exhibition matches, then Blood Bowl is a low-complexity game. The core rules are intuitive, clearly written, and easy to pick up. Most players find that after a single match, they no longer need to reference the rulebook for basic play. It’s a streamlined, fast-flowing system that gets out of your way and lets the carnage happen.

But if you step into league play, where Blood Bowl truly shines, then complexity ramps up over time.

As your players gain experience, develop new skills, suffer injuries, and maybe even get maimed or eaten, the rules begin to expand. You’ll deal with special abilities, team development strategies, inducements, sponsorships, star players, and more, all layered on top of the core mechanics. The gameplay stays fast, but your decisions off the pitch start to carry more weight.

To be clear: this isn’t complexity for complexity’s sake. This is earned depth, the kind of slow-burn growth that makes you feel invested in your team. It’s part RPG, part sports sim, part beautiful mess.

Complexity is a judgement call, but by any standards that I’m aware, Blood Bowl is a relatively simple game. Most of the complexity of Blood Bowl is optional.

And even then, if you break it down, most of the advanced rules are tucked neatly into team management and league play. If you’re just playing a one-off match? You’re using maybe 30–40% of the full rulebook, tops. The rest lives in the realm of long-term campaign play, where the true flavor of Blood Bowl emerges.

Is The Game Balanced?

It’s a widely accepted consensus that Blood Bowl is the most balanced game in Games Workshop’s arsenal, but, as with most things, this comes with a few caveats. Some aspects that may initially appear as imbalances tend to fade as player knowledge and experience increase.

The first thing to understand about balance in Blood Bowl is that teams are definitively not “equal” to each other, but that’s by design. The game doesn’t aim for symmetry. Instead, it uses mechanics to compensate for inequality between teams.

When two teams meet for a match, they compare Team Value (TV), a number that reflects the total value of the team, including players, rerolls, staff, and other assets. The team with the lower TV receives inducement gold, which can be spent on temporary, one-match bonuses.

These inducements can include:

  • Star Players (mercenaries who join just for the match)
  • Bribes to influence referees
  • Wizards who cast spells from the stands
  • Extra coaching staff
  • Additional rerolls
  • And other quirky, strategic upgrades

This system is intentionally designed to level the playing field when teams of different strengths clash, especially in long-term leagues where team values diverge.

However, inducements are only as effective as the player using them. Knowing your team’s strengths and understanding your opponent’s weaknesses is critical to making the most of these one-off advantages. This kind of strategic decision-making can’t be “balanced” in the traditional sense, player skill is always a factor, and as expected, more experienced coaches tend to win regardless of built-in mechanics.

Another layer of balance comes from team design itself. While you might hear arguments that Team A is “better” than Team B, the reality is more nuanced. Every team in Blood Bowl has distinct strengths and weaknesses:

Some teams excel are running the ball, others passing, some use gimmicks and tricks, while others still go for pure brutality. Their various hybrids as well.

There are currently 24 teams in Blood Bowl, so there is more than a fair share to collect and most Blood Bowl players are not satisfied to simply own one team. The nice thing about Blood Bowl is that’s its one of those games where you don’t have to build armies. Any team box comes with pretty much everything you need.

There are many teams in the game, and each has its own internal logic and playstyle. Part of the strategic depth of Blood Bowl is learning how to counter those styles, choose the right players for the matchup, and build your team to thrive over time.

In league play, things get even more dynamic. As teams grow, injuries mount, and players improve, team values can vary wildly. It’s not uncommon to see dominant teams rise and others falter, but that’s part of the point. Leagues are about long-term management as much as on-the-pitch performance. Winning the league isn’t just about winning individual matches, it’s about managing your team’s growth, budget, and roster across the whole season.

Leagues usually start with an even playing field, but as they progress, natural rises and falls occur, and that ebb and flow is a core part of the Blood Bowl experience.

Rules Changes and Errata

As mentioned already, Games Workshop has largely maintained a consistent ruleset since the original release of the game. Barring an occasional rules addition, clarification or minor streamlining the game remains pretty much the same.

Most Errata comes in the form of rules clarifications, actual rules changes are quite rare. This is a game that if you learned it 5 years ago, is not going to feel different today. You might come across some minor adaptation to a team here and there, but this is mostly done out of community demand or as a response to things that transpire at major Blood Bowl events to help improve the play experience.

In short, rules changes are quite rare, additions are more common, new star players for example.

Conclusion

Personally, I think Blood Bowl is one of those unique staple games that I love having in my collection. I tend to play it most often with friends who are sports fans and dabble in tabletop gaming, people who appreciate the chaos and strategy but might not be full-time wargamers. In a way, I think it’s a bit more niche than it deserves to be.

In my core gaming group, most folks lean more toward traditional miniature wargames than sports-themed games, and that’s totally fine. Blood Bowl has become something of a personal secret weapon in my collection. It doesn’t hit the table very often, and I mostly play it in online leagues these days, but when I do engage with it, I always have a blast.

It’s a fun, chaotic sports game with deep strategy and a sense of humor that’s uniquely Warhammer. It definitely earns its place in my collection, and I highly recommend it to anyone who loves American football in particular and wants a tabletop experience that captures that competitive, unpredictable energy with a twist.

Ok, I hope that is sufficient to quiet the trolls out there. Blood Bowl!