Tag Archives: Opinion

10 Amazing Games No One Knows About

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

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

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

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

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

New Angeles (2016) – BGG Rank 1561

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

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

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

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

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

Condottiere (1995) – BGG Rank 1034

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

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

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

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

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

XCOM: The Board Game (2015) BGG RANK 1003

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red Rising (2021) BGG Rank 1035

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nations The Dice Game (2014) BGG 1237

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

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

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

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

Starship Catan (2001) BGG Rating 1627

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

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

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

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

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

Age of Civilization (2019) BGG Rank 1716

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aristeia! (2017) BGG Rank 1903

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

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

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

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

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

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

A fantastic, tightly designed, and criminally underrated game.

Illuminati (1987) BGG Rank 2607

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

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

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

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

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

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

War Room (2019) BGG Rating 2198

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

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

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

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

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

I love it. Enough said.

List complete.

The Pioneer RPG: Kickstarter Preview

For All Mankind, the Apple TV series, is without question one of my favorite shows of the last decade. It’s an alternative-history epic about what might have happened if the space race never ended, if humanity kept pushing, competing, and occasionally tripping its way across the solar system.

It has everything I love in a good story: speculative history, grounded sci-fi, drama, and just enough “this could almost happen” futurism to make you glance suspiciously at NASA’s latest press releases. But what I enjoy most is that it feels less like science fiction and more like future history, a glimpse into a world that could have been ours with just a few different turns of the wrench, without infusing it with the magic of made-up future tech that most science fiction relies on.

I love a good historically based what-if story, and For All Mankind hits those beats with perfection in my humble opinion. No question, one of the best shows in years.

So when the marketing team at Mongoose Publishing reached out and asked me to take a look at their upcoming RPG, The Pioneer, the very first thing that came to mind was, naturally, For All Mankind. One paragraph into the description, and I was already hearing the opening theme in my head.

Today, we’re going to take a peek into Mongoose Games’ latest Kickstarter: a rather unusual, yet deeply intriguing, near-future Earth RPG about humankind’s next great adventure, exploring our own solar system. If you’ve ever wanted a game that sits somewhere between hard sci-fi realism and “what if we just kept going?”, this might be exactly your trajectory.

Overview

The Pioneer is built on the classic Traveller system, which, for long-time sci-fi RPG fans, should trigger an immediate nod of recognition. Traveller is the granddaddy of science-fiction tabletop gaming, the venerable elder around the campfire telling stories about starships before most of us were even rolling dice.

But that pedigree isn’t the real selling point here.

I haven’t tried the modern Traveller, though I do have nostalgic memories of playing this one back in the Jolt Cola days. I regret nothing!

What makes The Pioneer interesting is the opening it offers for a story-first RPG focused on near-future exploration beyond just the “adventure gaming” elements. You’ll be heading out into the solar system, and yes, there’s some delightful technobabble sprinkled throughout (it is a sci-fi RPG, after all), but this isn’t just a game about rockets, trajectories, or micromanaging oxygen levels. It’s got this presence defined into the game, like a grand stage on which modern space exploration stories can unfold and it’s this part of the game that has me intrigued.

Your mission isn’t just “go do the space thing.” Instead, The Pioneer opens the door for character-driven drama you’d expect from a prestige TV series. Motivations will matter. Politics will matter. The planning, the pressure, the PR disasters waiting to happen, the game leaves room to weave these elements into the action parts of the narrative just as much as the EVA repair scenes. It’s a game where you will tell the whole story, including the behind-the-scenes footage usually reserved for the documentary crew. An exciting proposition for a guy like me who loves NASA stories that happen between the lines.

A 200-page hardcover means that this RPG doesn’t fall into the “Light” category as far as game systems go. Not surprisingly, as neither does Traveller, but it is a modern system, so I think we can probably expect a relatively approachable game system.

A great example in the preview is Rescue at Low Earth Orbit. On the surface, it’s a classic space-rescue scenario with plenty of “uh… Houston we we have a problem” moments. But underneath, there’s a deeper narrative thread open to explore, one with enough emotional and political gravity to anchor an entire campaign. I won’t spoil the potential twists, but let’s just say there’s more going on than simply “complete the mission.” It immediately grabbed my attention and, once again, made me think of For All Mankind in all the best ways.

The Kickstarter

The Pioneer is launching through Kickstarter, and I always feel obligated to sound the traditional warning horn when entering that particular sub-market. We’ve all heard more cautionary tales than success stories, Kickstarter can be a magical place, but it can also be where good intentions go to die.

That said, Mongoose Publishing is not some first-time, two-person garage operation trying to figure out where the print PDF button is. These folks are seasoned veterans with a long, reliable track record. If there’s a spectrum of Kickstarter risk, this one sits comfortably on the “you can relax” end of it. You can check out the Pioneer Kickstarter here!

The even better news, at least in my humble opinion, is that this Kickstarter has already blasted past its funding requirement, so The Pioneer is definitely happening. And not only that, the most exciting stretch goals have already been unlocked, giving the project a strong launch trajectory (pun fully intended).

Of course, one of the first things anyone wants to do in a near-future space RPG is stage a mission to Mars. Luckily, this Kickstarter has anticipated that very impulse. Ares Ascendant, a full-length campaign covering the entire mission from A to Z, is already included. So if you’ve ever wanted to make the Red Planet your problem, you’re in good hands.

I think this book is the key to the game. Most people, I think are willing to try alternative RPG experiences to the standard stuff like D&D, but creating a campaign for a game like this, I think, would be tough, so releasing it with a solid campaign like a mission to Mars was a very smart move, it’s exactly what this game needs.

Is this a good game?

One question people love to throw at me, as if I’m shuffling tarot cards behind the scenes, is: “Will this be a good game?” And as always, I have the same answer when it comes to RPGs.

RPGs are good games because they’re not really games. They’re experiences. An RPG is only ever as good as the group you sit down with. That is the secret truth of the hobby. So the real question with The Pioneer isn’t “Is it good?” but rather: Does its subject matter excite you and the people you play with? Because if it does, the rest tends to take care of itself.

My advice to all role-players, especially those who’ve spent their entire hobby life inside the comfortable walls of Dungeons & Dragons, is simple: explore. For gods’ sake, explore other RPGs. There’s an entire universe of creativity out there. Designers are pouring their imagination, innovation, and occasionally their sanity into projects like this. And I can say with near certainty: if the theme speaks to you, you will find something to love in the game, whatever it is.

So go out there, support your community, and give games like The Pioneer a chance. This is a wonderful project, and absolutely one worth investing in.

Dolmenwood – Kickstarter Has Arrived!

As a general rule, I don’t touch Kickstarters with a ten-foot wizard’s staff. Too often, they feel less like scrappy dream-fueled projects and more like corporate “fund me” jars rattling for coins, a kind of alchemy I find, frankly, a bit of hogwash. If you’ve got the treasure hoard to make a game, then by the gods of dice and destiny, make it, release it, and I’ll happily toss my gold pieces into your coffers for a completed product. Misuse of the platform is as common as goblins in a mushroom glade, it irritates me to no end.

But every so often, a true conjurer of words and worlds appears, someone who uses Kickstarter exactly as it was meant to be: as a lantern-lit path for dreamers without publishers, great houses, or corporate dragons backing them. These are the brave creators weaving wonders with nothing but ink, imagination, and maybe a touch of faerie dust.

Dolmenwood is one such marvel, sprung from the mind of Gavin Norman of Necrotic Gnome. For a few years now, Gavin has been quietly brewing some of the most curious, creative, and downright enchanting projects in the roleplaying sphere. These are the kinds of things that would never survive the soulless glare of a big publisher’s boardroom, too niche, too strange, too delightfully weird. Exactly the sort of creations adventurers like me crave.

From the spellbinding Old School Essentials (a meticulous, love-drenched re-edit of Basic/Expert Dungeons & Dragons) to a treasure trove of smaller adventures, the cheeky and delightful Carcass Crawler zine, and now an entirely new game built around his own fairy-tale fever dream: Dolmenwood.

I have talked a lot on this blog about Old School Essentials. I ran a 3 year campaign using the system and it performed beautifully. It made me a fan of Gavin Norman. He makes a lot of good stuff.

I’ve been waiting for this one. Patiently, well, mostly, for nearly two years, ever since I pledged back in September 2023. And now, at long last, the package has arrived on my doorstep like a mysterious parcel left by a mossy-footed pooka. To say I’m buzzing would be an understatement. I tore into it with the giddy energy of a halfling spotting second breakfast.

One of the many charms of this whole journey is that Gavin has been an absolute wizard of communication, keeping us updated since day one with missives, sneak peeks, and development notes that felt like dispatches from the enchanted woods themselves. He gave us that personal touch, so even before my box of goodies arrived, I already felt like I’d been walking alongside the project every step of the way. I had been watching the trailer for two years, now I finally got to see the full production.

Today, we’re diving headlong into Dolmenwood. I’ll tell you what’s in the box, we’ll explore the game and its myth-soaked setting, and, most importantly, we’ll discuss who this game is for. So grab a cup of something hot and spiced, lean back in your favorite chair by the hearth, and settle in, because this is going to be a BIG article.

What is Dolmenwood About?

The very first question my friends asked, before I’d even cracked open the box, was: “Okay, but what exactly is Dolmenwood?” A fair place to start, I think, though a simple question this is not.

The best way to answer is to split Dolmenwood into two halves: first, how it works as a game system, and second, what it is as a fantasy world and story engine.

Dolmenwood as a Game

At its heart, Dolmenwood feels like a curious blend of two schools of design. On one side, it clearly draws heavily from Old School Essentials (OSE), Gavin Norman’s brilliant revival of 1980s Basic/Expert Dungeons & Dragons. On the other, it borrows the best lessons of modern narrative-first RPGs, which put storytelling, character invention, and immersion ahead of crunchy rules.

Now, that might sound like oil and water to some. After all, when many people hear “1st edition D&D,” they picture a rules labyrinth: THAC0 charts, descending AC, bizarre subsystems, and the heavy hand of the dice. Dolmenwood is not that. It doesn’t replicate old-school rules, it reimagines old-school concepts, polishing them into something that feels sleek and accessible to modern tables, but secretly, yes its old school rules. Confused?

To old dogs like me, this is just my adolescent stomping grounds, but I’m not blind to the fact that you have to really be glutton for punishment to still use systems that look like this today. There are better ways.

Ok so to be clear, there are no THAC0 charts, no wargame math, no headaches of deciphering unclear and unforgiving rules for which old school D&D is famous. For anyone coming from 5e, the rules will feel familiar and welcoming, even though for all intents and purposes, these are in fact old school rules. Imagine if a modern game designer, could travel back in time and advise Gygax on the fundamentals of rules writing and game design. Most of the decisions here are common sense for todays standards, but there is a clear focus on capturing the core concepts of these old school rules which (some of us old school guys) really do love. So its the good parts of these rules, without all the non-sense, which, when you get right down to it starts to look very much like a light, alternative, but modern version of D&D.

What Dolmenwood does carry forward from its old-school ancestry is the philosophy: this is not a game of superhero characters with endless feats and powers. It is low fantasy, low magic, high peril. A sword to the gut will probably kill you. You’re fragile mortals, not demigods, and that fragility is what makes your bravery meaningful. In Dolmenwood, you are heroes not because of your hit points, but because you willingly risk your tiny candle-flame lives in a world full of wolves, witches, and weirder things still.

Dolmenwood is not completely absolved of old school gaming shenanigan’s that deserve to stay dead and buried. For example, getting an XP bonus or penalty for having too low or too high prime ability score is just silly. There is some logic to it, but it dirties the waters in my opinion unnecessarily.

Of course as was the case in classic D&D, magic remains the great equalizer. Power often comes from what you find: a scroll, a wand, a ring, a talisman, the coveted equipment that often makes the difference between life with bags of holding full of treasure and horrifically tragic death at the end of a spear. Dolmenwood leans into that old-school rhythm where exploration and treasure-hunting matter to your prospects of survival and success. In fact, equipment is survival; resources are power, the story is about that glorious rise from a mere nobody to a powerful agent in the world.

Dolmenwood as a Story

Where Dolmenwood really unfurls its colors, though, is as a setting-first game. The rules exist, yes, but they feel more like a stagehand pulling ropes than the star of the show. Storytelling and atmosphere take center stage. In that sense, it leans closer to narrative-driven games like Vampire: The Masquerade or newer experiments like Daggerheart, where the drama lives in the back-and-forth between Game Master and players, rather then execution of rules.

This is why Dolmenwood’s books are so massive. The books are mainly tapestry of herbs, fungi, folklore, factions, fairies, pipeweed blends, oddball traditions, and richly described places. (Yes, there’s literally a two-page spread on different varieties of pipeleaf, and another on common fungi. You don’t need these details, but oh, how they make the world breathe.)

The game invites players not just to survive, but to inhabit. Characters don’t begin with a scripted epic or a railroad adventure paths. Instead, they’re handed a living sandbox, an open world alive with secrets, strange folk, and tangled politics.

At the start, you know almost nothing. You’re level 1 peasants with little more than a rusty sword, a pocketful of pipeweed and big dreams. The world is wide, mysterious, and dangerous, and you must carve your own path in it. The magic lies in how your choices, what goals you set, who you befriend, and which factions you side with slowly shape your story. The game doesn’t hand you a narrative; it hands you a place, filled with people with their own motivations and events brimming with fairy tales, and trusts you to grow a narrative out of it.

Dolmenwood is a stage ripe for theatre, something made clear from its evocative art and the writing style, even though theatre is not really traditionally an old school core ideology.

Over time, as you explore deeper, you begin to see the strings: the larger story of Dolmenwood itself. The factions, the plots, the creeping powers behind the veil. Small adventures tie into greater ones, and before you realize it, your once-humble would be adventurer is entangled in the grand weave of politics, prophecy, and faerie mischief.

And every inch of this playground is meticulously detailed. The campaign book runs a staggering 465 pages, stuffed with lore, locations, NPCs, and oddities. Every hollow, every hamlet, every mushroom ring feels like it has a story waiting to be uncovered, it feels that way because it is that way.

So yes, Dolmenwood is a game of rules. But more than that, it is a world, a moss-carpeted, fungus-studded, pipe-smoke-wreathed world, ripe for infinite exploration.

The Dolmenwood Setting

Let’s be clear: as a game system, Gavin Norman hasn’t reinvented the wheel. The “open world, make-your-own-adventure” style of play has been part of the D&D tradition for decades. But Dolmenwood tips its mossy cap to those old-school roots while polishing them for a modern audience, and I’m delighted to report that this approach is making a hearty comeback across the hobby.

Where Dolmenwood becomes something truly unique, where the real fairy-dust sparkles, is in its setting. This is no cookie-cutter fantasy world. In fact, I don’t think anything like it exists in today’s RPG landscape. It’s bold, strange, and deeply imaginative, so much so that it might even feel a little unsettling to players who are used to the safety blanket of Tolkien-inspired worlds.

Most fantasy settings lean heavily (sometimes lazily) on the Tolkien template: elves, dwarves, orcs, kingdoms, repeat. Dolmenwood gleefully shatters those expectations while still remaining recognizably “fantasy.” Its fairy-tale woods are bizarre, whimsical, and very dangerous. Nothing unfolds quite the way you expect, there are fewer recognizable fantasy troupes that players will connect with from other familiar settings. It’s geared towards real exploration, not the exploration of yet another alternative version The Forgotten Realms.

If I had to reach for an analogy, I’d say Dolmenwood is like a strange potion brewed from equal parts Harry Potter, Narnia, Legend and The Never Ending Story, with just enough Tolkien sprinkled in to keep it grounded. Fey folk, enchanted groves, and peculiar traditions abound, Gavin Norman delights in breaking expectations whenever possible.

The 1980’s classic Legend is a mostly forgotten film despite the fact that it was directed by Ridley Scott and stared a young Tom Cruise. It depicts a truly original fantasy world that departs from the Tolkien roots while still remaining oddly familiar as a fantasy world. It’s kind of the same effect Dolmenwood has when you read it.

Even at the character-creation stage, the game asks players to embrace the unusual. You can play a proud goat-headed Breggle, or a small, pipe-smoking Mossling, who feels like a halfling raised in a damp mushroom hollow. Sure, there are humans and elves, but they aren’t the focus. Dolmenwood itself is the wilderness, the edge of the map, the place where weirdness is the default.

The strangeness continues with classes. While you can still pick a Fighter or Cleric, you’ll also find uniquely Dolmenwood roles like the Enchanter, the wandering Friar, the cunning Hunter, and the noble Knight.

Magic, too, is peculiar and deeply rooted in folklore. While there are plenty of familiar things like the generic fireballs of high fantasy, spells draw on fairy glamour, rune-carved standing stones, ley lines, herbal concoctions, and fungi with names that sound like they were whispered by trickster spirits. It feels less like a spell list and more like a hedge witch’s grimoire.

But what elevates Dolmenwood above all else is the way the world itself is built. Nothing is random. Every ruined keep, every ancient shrine, every mossy mound is tied into the greater tapestry of Dolmenwood’s history. Stumble upon an abandoned tower in the woods, and you’ll eventually learn how it connects to the factions, politics, and hidden stories of the land. Nothing is throwaway. Nothing is meaningless. There is purpose and often you will not understand that purpose until later in your adventure, these locations become future lightbulbs for the players to connect in a larger story.

For players, this creates a delightful sense of discovery and self-importance, a logical puzzle where every new clue makes the world sharper and more comprehensible, known only to them. Knowledge that they can leverage in pursuit of their own success if they are clever.

For DMs, it’s a godsend: a pre-built web of places, people, and events that all interlock seamlessly. Players will feel clever as they connect the dots, while you’ll always have the tools to support their choices.

All of this is brought together in the Campaign Book, a masterpiece of editing and design. It combines event-driven encounters with location-based hex maps, giving you the freedom to run Dolmenwood as a true sandbox.

The one page layout approach of the campaign book is perfect for use at the table, you are a 2-3 minute read away from being able to run any area with plenty of flavor and direction, there is no need to read anything in advance even though you will not be able to help yourself.

What makes it brilliant is its clarity. You don’t need to read 100 pages ahead or memorize obscure lore. Every location is laid out in a simple, precise format: history, features, atmosphere, day/night differences, and the secrets that might be uncovered. No wasted words, no bloat, just clean, evocative notes that give the DM everything they need without scripting the events of an adventure.

Take The Craven Mounds, for example. In just a single page you’ll learn what the mounds look like, their unsettling history, the strange shrine hidden among them, the difference between visiting by day or by night, and which creatures prowl there. It’s enough to spark a full evening of play, while leaving room for you to weave it into the larger story. It’s connection to lay lines give it deeper meaning that might become important to the players later and then there is of course the real question, what are they for? The answer is not nothing and its this sort of intrigue that drives the Dolmenwood drama, a purpose in everything.

This structure repeats across the entire book: compact, flavorful descriptions that give you narrative cues and storytelling beats without ever tying your hands. The result is that your players can go anywhere, chase anything, and you’ll always be ready. It’s the kind of prep support most DMs dream about.

Dolmenwood is a sandbox done right: players get freedom, you get preparation, and the world itself does the heavy lifting.

What’s In The Box

While I don’t usually do kickstarters, if and when I decide to donate my hard-earned gold coins to a project, I don’t fuss about; I go all in for the full monty. I went for the limited edition loot box which includes pretty much everything except for a few of the “non-game” related items like T-shirts, buttons and stuff like that. It was a $200 dollar box and includes everything that is designed for the full Dolmenwood experience.

The Books

Let me say this right out of the gate: if you pick up these Dolmenwood books and are not utterly gobsmacked by their quality, then I’d like to meet the little green gremlins piloting your brain. The production values are jaw-dropping, perhaps the best I’ve ever seen in tabletop RPG publishing. The only comparable recent release is Daggerheart, and honestly, Dolmenwood still wins the duel, particularly when it comes to editing and layout.

These books are a dream to reference. The language is clean, concise, and direct, no wading through two paragraphs of purple prose just to extract one useful rule. Everything you need is right where you expect it to be.

Gavin Norman has always had a sharp editorial hand, OSE already proved that, but here, he’s outdone himself. This feels like divine work, a new gold standard for RPG book design. From this point forward, anything less will feel like sloppy wizardry. Work like this makes Wizard of the Coast publications look like incompetent goblins are running the company.

The Player’s Book

One of the trickiest challenges in RPG design is convincing players to actually read beyond the rules. When a game has a unique setting, as Dolmenwood certainly does, the danger is that players learn just enough mechanics to roll dice and stop there, never really tasting the flavor of the world.

The Players Book is a very handy reference for pretty much everything you need to know about Dolmenwood as a game, but its a bit light on giving players story based direction in my humble opinion.

I think Gavin understood this problem. The Player’s Book takes a deliberate approach: keep it short, sharp, and reference-friendly, while leaving the bulk of the lore and storytelling muscle to the Campaign Book. On one level, it works brilliantly. This is a book you don’t need to read cover-to-cover. Instead, it’s a handy companion that breaks the game into digestible chunks, how to make a character, how adventuring and combat work, how the physical universe ticks along. As a quick-start guide to “what is this game, mechanically?” it’s flawless. Often players books that are filled with lore between the pages, create an issue when you actually just want to look up some rules at the table, you won’t find problems like that in this players book.

But here’s the rub: Dolmenwood isn’t a system-first game. Yes, the rules matter, but the beating heart of the experience is the setting. It’s the moss, the pipeweed, the grimalkin, the fey bargains, the eerie ruins waiting in the mist. And I worry the Player’s Book doesn’t give enough of that to the people who arguably need it most, the players themselves. They need the inspiration for character creation and the grounding for their plans because this is after all, a open world game where players are expected to seek out the adventure on their own. How can they be expected to do that if they don’t know much about the place where that adventure is to take place?

Sure, there are delightful sprinkles of flavor scattered throughout. The races and classes ooze personality. The languages, gear, food, and drink entries all sneak in playful, flavorful cultural details. And there’s a particularly excellent chapter called “The Adventure” that does a stellar job explaining what role-playing actually looks like in Dolmenwood, complete with examples that make the difference between “rolling dice” and “telling a story” crystal clear.

Still, I can’t help but wish for just one more chapter, a lore dump, a short but rich introduction that gives players a real sense of what Dolmenwood feels like to live in. There is a kind of two page layout of major factions and settlements as a reference but its just not enough.

This is because while mechanics get us rolling, it’s the setting that inspires us to play. We don’t pick between Alien and Star Trek Adventures because of their initiative systems, we pick them because one is about horror in the void and the other is about utopian space diplomacy. It’s the story behind the game that drives the whole thing.

And Dolmenwood, for all its mossy brilliance, deserves that same up-front love and it should be in the first chapter of the players book. It’s absence I think in particular with players like mine, will be a bit of a problem.

As it stands, the Player’s Book is beautifully illustrated, brilliantly organized, and a joy to use, but I’d argue it’s just shy of being the perfect guide for players. A little more lore, and it would be flawless.

The Campaign Book

Ah, the Campaign Book. This towering tome isn’t just a rulebook, it’s a storybook atlas of wonder, equal parts practical GM guide and enchanting fireside read. From the very first page, I was grinning like a mischievous faun. Gavin’s writing is clever, breezy, and endlessly readable, just enough flourish to make it fun, but never so much that you lose track of the game-ready details. It’s splendid, cover to cover.

This is the meat and potatoes of Dolmenwood, written in a style that makes this entire book a page turner you will want to read cover to cover.

Now that I’ve got the finished version in my hands, with all its lavish illustrations, it feels like a treasure pulled straight out of a mossy chest. The art captures the words perfectly: whimsical, eerie, and evocative all at once. The character portraits especially are so vivid you can practically hear their voices, quirks, and mannerisms leaping off the page.

At first glance, one might assume Dolmenwood’s open-world, West Marches–style design means there’s no central story, just a big faerie sandbox. But that’s a trick of the briars. Hidden among the hexes and hamlets is an overarching narrative, an honest-to-goodness tale threading its way through people, places, and events. I won’t spoil it here (the delights of discovery belong to the reader!), but trust me: it’s there, and it’s wonderfully easy for a GM to weave into play.

The ink art is absolutely amazing, crafted to depict the bizarre world of Dolmenwood with a nod to classic D&D that is unmistakable.

The settlements section alone deserves applause. Each one feels like its own mini-campaign in a bottle, bursting with unique cultures, strange laws, and peculiar inhabitants. There’s no generic “town” or “city” here, every settlement is a little gem of fairy-tale worldbuilding, more bizarre and enchanting than the last. Its like reading Harry Potters version of England, except you have a wide array of cities from all over the world to explore, each wildly different from the next. They’re richly described in the Campaign Book and beautifully backed up in the accompanying Maps Book.

And then there’s the heart of it: the hex-crawl. A full third of this 460+ page grimoire is devoted to detailed hex locations, and they are a masterclass in design. Each entry can be digested in a couple of minutes, giving you just enough to run the area with confidence, but always laced with hints and connections that pull you deeper. It’s impossible to flip through without “cheating” as a DM, sneaking ahead to peek at how people, places, and events intertwine. Those connections are exactly what players will discover in play, and they’re intoxicating. You’ll want to run Dolmenwood the moment you put the book down.

Of course, the Campaign Book also comes stocked with the GM essentials: magic items, curious equipment, random tables, charts, and all the toys you need to answer the question, “What if my players…?” Whether your party sets out to plunder dungeons, open a tavern hawking strange ales, or establish a kingdom in the mist, you’ll have what you need within a page flip. That’s the real magic of this book, it makes running Dolmenwood feel effortless.

In short: I absolutely love this book. Honestly, if Dolmenwood had shipped with only the Campaign Book, it still would have been worth the price of admission.

The Supporting Tools

Dolmenwood comes with its share of frivolous extras (see below), but the real treasures for a GM are the supporting tools, clever, practical, and brimming with utility.

The Monster Book

This volume is a delight. The illustrations are gorgeous, the entries lean hard into roleplay cues, and the mechanics always come with a twist or two. Many of these creatures aren’t meant to be generic foes but unique denizens of Dolmenwood, weird, singular beings with their own origins woven into the setting’s lore.

An fantasy RPG is incomplete without a monster book, but frankly I have so many of these you have to do something really special to make it worth are time. In my humble opinion, Gavin nailed it, you cannot run Dolmenwood without this book and maintain it’s unique character.

That’s the real trick here: every monster’s backstory matters. Their histories and methods of creation often double as clues for how clever players might deal with them.

One of my favorite touches is the chart of monster rumors, half true, half deliberately false. They’re perfect for seeding tavern gossip, confusing players, or foreshadowing a lurking horror in the woods. It’s playful and practical, like the rest of the books.

The thing about most monster books for me personally is that I find that they are usually generic replications of pretty standard fantasy monsters that I have seen scraped together based on everything that has come before in D&D. This book is unique to the setting and you could not run Dolmenwood without it. Its a must have to do this setting justice and t ensure its well executed.

The Maps Book

Think of this as a stack of enchanted lenses. Each map presents Dolmenwood filtered through a different lens: political boundaries, faction domains, herb and fungus distribution, shrine locations, ley lines, and more (no spoilers!).

This is without a doubt a luxury, not really something you need, but having a lot of material that is easy to reference allows you to answer wacky questions that might come up unexpectedly and that is a nice touch to making the world feel lived in for the players. I like it.

For a DM, it’s an absolute luxury. Need to know which lord rules the next region? Or which strange herb grows in that hex? Flip a page and it’s there. The book also includes full-page settlement illustrations, styled to reflect local culture. They’re mostly for flavor, but oh, what flavor. Pull one out mid-session, and your players instantly feel the character of the place.

It’s not a necessity by any stretch, but its cool and I can definitely see myself using it.

The GM Screen

I’ll be honest: I’m not usually a GM screen fan. It can feel like a wall between me and the table. But if ever there was a screen that earns its keep, this is it.

I don’t use DM screens generally, but so far as they go, this is a pretty useful one.

Printed on thick, sturdy board, it’s packed with genuinely useful reference material: combat reminders, weapon traits, faction names, settlement lists, and those regional pronunciations you’re bound to butcher under pressure.

Again, not a necessity, but sure, why not.

The Adventures

The box also comes with four stand-alone adventures tailored to Dolmenwood:

  • Winter’s Daughter
  • Emelda’s Song
  • The Fungus That Came to Blackswell
  • The Ruined Abbey of St. Clewyd

Each one can be prepped in about fifteen minutes and run on the fly, short, sharp, and clearly laid out so you’re never bogged down in text when you should be running the table.

They’re tied into Dolmenwood’s broader story web, but they also work independently as bite-sized campaigns. And while I haven’t run them yet, I backed Dolmenwood largely because of Gavin Norman’s adventures. His style is unpredictable, evocative, and brimming with creativity, exactly the kind of storytelling that surprises even veteran GMs.

Winter’s Daughter is probobly THE adventure that made me a fan of Gavin Normans creativity and led to me buying Dolmenwood.

More importantly it doesn’t overcook your prep. This isn’t a story laid out point by point, or just a bunch of location place descriptions, its more of an adventure guide that gives you the basics and you fill in the rest. Though it gives you enough so that you don’t have to plan or think about it in advance, you’ll be able to run these on the fly.

That’s the mark of a good adventure writer: giving you something you couldn’t have conjured up yourself. These adventures hit that mark. Brilliant work, full stop.

The Frivolous Fun Stuff

Beyond the core treasures of Dolmenwood, the box also comes sprinkled with a handful of whimsical oddities, frivolous, yes, but delightful all the same. Think of them as the shiny baubles and enchanted trinkets you might find tucked into a mossy hollow after a long woodland ramble.

First up: funny dice. Yes, Dolmenwood blesses you with a set of charming polyhedrals, your trusty click-clack friends, ready to be rolled in fury or folly. Then there’s a jaunty little Dolmenwood patch, perfect for sewing onto a bag, cloak, or perhaps the satchel you take into the woods when mushroom-picking. Add in access to a digital soundtrack (more on that in a moment), and, most surprisingly, a full set of miniatures.

I tend not to use miniatures in my RPG sessions, mainly because I want combat to be just an extension of role-playing rather than a “mini combat game” we play periodically when a fight breaks out. But I love collecting and painting miniatures so these are going to get some paint regardless, because they are pretty unique.

Now, as a longtime lover of pewter and plastic adventurers, I must say the minis were the most delightful surprise, mostly because I had completely forgotten they were included! These are single-mold game pieces already perched on bases, sturdy and practical. No, they’re not dripping with hyper-detailed resin flair, but they’re absolutely paintable, and more importantly, they embody Dolmenwood’s curious cast of races and classes. Goatfolk, moss dwarfs, grimalkin, and other odd denizens you won’t find in your average fantasy bestiary, they’re here in charming form, ready to stalk across your tabletop. For anyone who likes to use minis in play, these are a genuine boon.

The soundtracks, meanwhile, are a touch of magic I didn’t realize I needed. I adore setting the mood at the table with music, and Dolmenwood’s offerings are wonderfully distinctive. There’s a proper “music” soundtrack, full of strange rhythms that feel like a cross between old-school video game tunes and eerie X-Files-esque mystery. Then there are the atmospheric tracks, which I think are the real gems. These are subtle soundscapes, whispers of wind, the patter of rain, the creak of branches, the low murmur of something uncanny just beyond sight. Many are region-specific, perfectly tailored to accompany particular areas of the setting.

Together, they capture the peculiar, otherworldly vibe of Dolmenwood in a way that words alone can’t. You can practically smell the damp moss and hear the flap of a nightbird’s wings.

So yes, these extras may be the garnish rather than the feast, but they’re flavorful little morsels all the same. Cool stuff, and wholly in keeping with Dolmenwood’s knack for enchanting the senses.

Conclusion – Who Is Dolmenwood For?

I’d love to say Dolmenwood is for anyone who loves fantasy and role-playing games, but that would be too broad, and not entirely fair. This is a unique world and a very particular system, and not everyone will vibe with it.

If you grew up with old-school Dungeons & Dragons, particularly the stranger, more experimental settings of 1st and 2nd edition, Dolmenwood will feel like a nostalgic return to form. It has the same bold departure from Tolkien tropes that made worlds like Dark Sun and Planescape so compelling, while still carrying that classic sense of story-driven adventure that made D&D a phenomenon in the first place.

For modern audiences raised on 3rd, 4th, or especially 5th edition, the appeal is more complicated. The setting, whimsical, fairy-tale, tinged with Narnia, Harry Potter and Neverending Story, may hook you immediately. But mechanically, this is not a game of heroic power curves, feat chains, or endless character builds. Dolmenwood is not about gaming the system, it’s about dynamic narrative play. Growth is slower, victories are hard-won, and characters are fragile. If you try to play it like 5e, leaning on dice and mechanics to bail you out, you will die. Often. This is a game that rewards planning, cunning, and creativity over brute force.

And yet, this might be exactly what modern players are looking for. Many D&D players openly admit they find the modern rendition of the game too easy, too bloated with safety nets, too focused on “powers” rather than theatre. Dolmenwood offers a refreshing change of pace: a system that strips things back, trusts the players, and invites you to rediscover role-playing as a collaborative story first and foremost.

That’s why Dolmenwood matters. It’s not just a curiosity, it’s part of a broader movement in the hobby. Games like Blades in the Dark, Shadowdark, and Daggerheart, along with the OSR revival, are all pushing role-playing back toward dynamic player-driven experiences. Dolmenwood stands proudly in that lineage, and in many ways raises the bar for what a modern fantasy RPG can look like despite its nostalgic nod to classic D&D play.

Now I would personally argue if you really want to experience a modern RPG as a design, Daggerheart is just pure magic. But as a built in story, combined with clever writing and an amazing set for theatre, Dolmenwood is also a fantastic choice.

So yes, I recommend it. Wholeheartedly. Not because it will replace D&D at every table, but because it reminds us that fantasy role-playing can be stranger, braver, and more imaginative than the well-worn Tolkien mold. Dolmenwood is extraordinary, a design triumph, a storytelling feast, and a bold step in the right direction for the hobby.

In Theory: The Historical War Game Genre

This blog has always been a colorful tapestry of wildly different gaming topics, by design, not by accident. But even within that eclectic mix, clear dividing lines emerge. One of the most distinct is the rift between the broader board gaming community and the niche but passionate world of historical strategy and war games. These aren’t just different genres, they’re almost different cultures within the hobby.

That said, I’m living proof that this divide is more imagined than real. Like many supposed boundaries in gaming, it’s built more on perception than truth. While it’s easy to think of historical war gamers as a cloistered sub-group with their own sacred tomes and hex-filled rituals, the reality is far more fluid. Just as many historical gamers dabble in mainstream modern board games, there’s a growing curiosity among general board gamers about the mysterious and complex world of historical strategy.

But let’s be honest, crossing the bridge from mainstream games to historical war gaming can feel like stepping into another dimension. It’s far easier to move from heavy war games to general board games than the other way around. This is because historical games tend to be deep, dense, and unapologetically complex as a default. What a seasoned wargamer might casually call “light,” most hobby gamers would label “brain-melting.”

Take complexity ratings on BoardGameGeek as a perfect example. Twilight Imperium, a game known for its epic length and interstellar sprawl, clocks in at a weighty 4.33 out of 5. That’s pretty high, unless you’re a historical war gamer. Compare that to Empire of the Sun, a game steeped in the Pacific Theater of WWII, which sits at a 4.39. At first glance, a marginal difference. But in practice, these two games are judged by entirely different standards. Empire of the Sun isn’t just complex, it’s an Everest of a rulebook, dense with nuance and requiring perhaps a hundred hours of study even for experienced players. Its 45-page manual is printed in a font size small enough to make a lawyer squint, functionally the equivalent of a 90- to 120-page standard rulebook.

Twilight Imperium is an exceptional game, and I would easily quantify it as an amazing war game, but it does not fit into the historical strategy/war game genre as historical war gamers define their own genre. Being about a war is not enough.

To a hardcore historical gamer, Twilight Imperium might feel like a breezy afternoon diversion, perhaps a 2 or 2.5 on their personal scale of complexity.

My point is this: complexity and depth are relative concepts, deeply tied to experience and exposure. The world of historical war games isn’t just more intricate, it’s built differently, with its own traditions, expectations, and design philosophies. From minimalist components to standardized presentation styles, these games often look arcane and intimidating, which, let’s face it, they are, but there’s a strange elegance beneath the surface.

Today, I want to share a bit about my own journey into this fascinating world and offer some practical advice for those curious enough to dip their toes into the deep waters of historical strategy and war games. Whether you’re a seasoned Eurogamer looking for a new challenge or a curious newcomer intrigued by the lore of real-world conflicts, this one’s for you.

Some Encouragement & Reality

Speaking as a fairly typical board gamer who took the plunge into historical strategy and war games, let me offer a little encouragement and a dose of reality.

First, if you’re going to dive into this subgenre, you’ll need to be self-sufficient. These games often require solo setup, self-directed learning, and more than a few hours of quiet study. This isn’t a genre where you crack open the box, skim the rulebook, and dive in with a buddy over pizza and drinks. Technically, sure, you could try, but you’re more likely to spend the evening fumbling through obscure mechanics, wondering why nothing makes intuitive sense.

But here’s the twist: that’s part of the fun.

There’s something uniquely satisfying about deciphering a complex historical war game on your own. You’ll set it up, stumble through turns, cross-reference rulebooks, and gradually bring the simulation to life. It’s a solo endeavor at first, almost like reading a dense but rewarding novel. Once you understand it, you’re ready to teach it, not from the rulebook, but from experience. And if that doesn’t appeal to you, it’s probably a sign this genre may not be for you. This hands-on, slow-burn learning process is the hobby.

Twilight Struggle is perhaps the most famous example of a cross-over hit that lives in the historical strategy/war game category and is beloved by serious war gamers, yet has found considerable popularity in mainstream gaming. It’s an exceptional game.

Second, and this is crucial, understanding the actual history behind the game is often key to understanding the game itself. Most historical war games fall into the “simulation” category. That means the mechanics aren’t just arbitrary, they’re grounded in real-world events, logistics, and military doctrine. At first glance, some rules might seem bizarre or even unnecessary. But once you dig into the history, why that mechanic exists, what it represents, it starts to make sense. The design isn’t just about gameplay; it’s about reenactment, grounded in research.

In this way, learning a historical war game often involves learning history. If you find yourself fascinated by the “why” behind a game’s structure, why supply lines matter, why political will ebbs and flows, why reinforcements arrive late, that’s a good sign you’re in the right place. If that level of engagement sounds exhausting rather than exciting, though, you may want to reconsider.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, these games exist in a kind of ecosystem. There’s a lineage of mechanics, design principles, and influences that connect them like branches on a tree. The most complex games often build on systems introduced in earlier, simpler titles. There’s a generational progression, what some call “design DNA.”

For example, jumping straight into Empire of the Sun might be biting off more than you can chew. But games like Washington’s War or Paths of Glory share many of its core mechanics in more digestible forms. They act as stepping stones, easing you into the deeper waters with familiar rules and systems. You’ll find that learning one game helps you understand the next, especially when they come from the same designer or design school. This might be a familiar concept to general board gamers because in kind of works the same way in the mass market. We sometimes call certain games “good introduction games”, for example, Ticket To Ride or Settlers of Catan are often mentioned as good first dives into the larger world of boardgaming. The only difference is that in historical strategy and war games, this tends to be a lot more specific to the target game you want to reach.

That’s why doing a bit of homework goes a long way. Look into game families, designer interviews, and community recommendations. You’ll often find that designers openly discuss their influences, and discovering these connections can help you choose games that fit your current skill level and interests, driving you towards your target game. It’s like crafting your own war gaming curriculum.

In short, historical strategy and war games reward research, patience, and a thirst for learning. If that excites you, then you’re in for a deeply rewarding journey, one filled with rich history, complex mechanics, and a surprising sense of discovery. Your path into the genre won’t just be about finding good games, it’ll be about uncovering stories, systems, and strategies you might never have encountered otherwise.

First Venture

If you’re curious about diving into historical war games, my strongest recommendation is this: start solo. In fact, consider beginning with a game designed specifically for solo play. There’s no better way to test the waters and see whether this niche is more than just a passing curiosity for you.

Thankfully, historical war gaming has a rich and well-established subgenre of solo titles, offering a wide selection of accessible, thematic, and deeply rewarding experiences. Many of these solo games are purpose-built for solo players, meaning the learning curve is often smoother, the rulebooks more forgiving, and the gameplay tailored to your pace.

Even better, these solo titles tend to hover at the lower end of the complexity spectrum, making them a fantastic entry point into the genre. You’ll find more flexibility in terms of theme, length, and mechanics, letting you ease into the broader world of historical strategy gaming without being thrown into the deep end. The best part of solo play is that you can just leave your game up and pick it up whenever the mood strikes you, and that is a huge advantage over trying to put a game night together.

A perfect place to begin is Dan Verssen Games (DVG), a publisher renowned for its high-quality solo-only catalog. DVG has something for almost every historical interest and play style. Want to explore the Age of Exploration? Try the brilliant card-driven 1500: The New World. Curious about command-level warfare? Look into their Leader Series or Field Commander Series, where you take the reins of historical figures or tactical roles across conflicts ranging from the Napoleonic era to modern-day battlefields.

Field Commander Alexander is a fantastic example of a straight to it solo historical war game. It gives you the sensation of control over vast armies as you attempt to achieve conquest in the footsteps of one of the greatest war generals in history.

Whether you want to be a fighter pilot flying missions in the Pacific, a WWII submarine captain, or Napoleon himself masterminding a campaign across Europe, there’s likely a DVG game that covers it and does so in a way that feels personal, strategic, and surprisingly educational.

The key benefit to this solo-game approach is that whatever game you pick, you’ll be laying the foundation for future success in the genre. You’ll learn how historical rulebooks are structured (spoiler alert: they’re different), how to use playbooks and reference sheets effectively, and how certain core mechanics, like zones of control, operational cost cards, influence conflict, supply lines, and turn-based simulation tend to repeat across games. This familiarity becomes invaluable as you graduate to more complex titles and multiplayer experiences.

Starting with solo war games, I think is the best way to go, but let’s talk about the alternative starts, low complexity multiplayer games.

Entry Level Historical Strategy and War Games

One of the most common misconceptions about historical strategy and war games is that they’re defined solely by their connection to real-world events. But in truth, it’s not the historical theme that sets this genre apart, it’s the design philosophy, mechanical complexity, and simulation-based approach that distinguish it from the broader board gaming world.

Take Axis & Allies, for example. It’s a well-known game with clear historical ties, and while it shares some surface-level traits with war games, it doesn’t fully belong to the historical war game genre as enthusiasts define it. It straddles the line, a gateway, perhaps, but it’s ultimately a different kind of experience.

So, while it might be tempting to use cross-over titles like Axis & Allies or Memoir ’44 as stepping stones into deeper waters, the truth is that they offer relatively little in terms of preparing you for the complexities and conventions of true historical war games. These lighter games often strip away the very mechanics that define the genre: logistics, command structures, political abstraction, and long-term strategic depth.

Memoir ’44 is a great title and gives you a small taste of the historical war gaming genre but nothing you learn from this game will prepare you for a typical historical war game in the true sense of the meaning, at least as defined by fans of the genre.

Another important thing to note is that most historical war games are two-player experiences. While multiplayer options do exist, and can be excellent, they’re generally not ideal for beginners. Learning is much easier in a one-on-one setting, especially when both players are invested and focused. For that reason, nearly all the entry-level games I recommend fall into the two-player category. You’ll want a dedicated partner, someone who’s equally curious (or patient enough to let you teach them).

Now, let’s say solo play isn’t your thing. You’re ready to dive headfirst into the genre with a partner at your side. Great news, there are entry-level titles that can ease you in without sacrificing historical depth. In no particular order, here are a few strong candidates I wholeheartedly recommend…

Washington’s War by GMT Games (Designed by Mark Herman)

When it comes to introducing newcomers to the world of historical strategy and war games, Washington’s War is my go-to recommendation, and for good reason. It strikes a near-perfect balance of accessibility, thematic familiarity, and mechanical depth without overwhelming new players.

Here’s why it stands out as an ideal entry point:

1. A Familiar Conflict
The American Revolutionary War is one of those historical topics that most people already have at least a basic grasp of. Names like George Washington, the 13 Colonies, and the Boston Tea Party are common knowledge, even for those who aren’t history buffs. That shared understanding smooths the learning curve and creates a sense of immediate connection with the game’s theme.

2. Elegant Simplicity
From a complexity standpoint, Washington’s War sits firmly in the “low” zone, no matter who’s doing the judging. But don’t let that fool you; it’s rich in educational value. The game introduces several core mechanics found throughout the genre: point-to-point movement, influence/control mechanics, operational vs. event card play, the use of Generals, and Command Units (CUs). Each of these concepts is presented in a streamlined, easy-to-learn form, offering a solid foundation for more advanced titles down the line. These are concepts you’re going to run across in this sub-genre of gaming all the time.

3. Playtime That Respects Your Schedule
Perhaps most importantly, Washington’s War is relatively short by historical war game standards. A full session typically runs about 2–3 hours, a far cry from the all-day marathons many games in this genre demand. That makes it easier to get to the table, easier to find opponents, and easier to revisit regularly.

In short, Washington’s War is a masterclass in approachable design. It captures the essence of historical conflict in a digestible, compelling format, making it, in my opinion, the ideal starting point for anyone curious about stepping into the world of historical strategy and war games.

A bonus here is that this is a Mark Herman game, a name you will become intimately familiar with as you explore this sub-genre of gaming, as he is one of the most prolific and influential game designers in historical war gaming, both past and present.

Sekigahara: The Unification of Japan by GMT, designed by Matt Calkins

In the realm of historical strategy and war games, there’s a subgenre-within-a-subgenre known as block games, and if you stick with this hobby, you’re bound to encounter them. These games use wooden blocks to represent military units, adding elements of fog of war, hidden information, and elegant visual design. Block games are a staple of the historical war gaming scene, and among them, Sekigahara stands tall.

Not only is it one of the best block games ever made (in my opinion), it’s also one of the best historical war games, period (again, in my opinion).

What makes Sekigahara so approachable is how streamlined and intuitive it is. It distills the core mechanics of block games into a clean, smooth-playing experience without drowning players in exception-based rules or overly complex interactions. Better still, it’s a card-driven block game, which makes combat resolution dramatically simpler than many of its dice-based cousins. There are no convoluted CRTs (Combat Results Tables), no constant rulebook flipping. Instead, combat unfolds through card play that adds both tension and strategic depth, all while keeping the gameplay fast and accessible.

And let’s not overlook the setting, feudal Japan, one of the most fascinating and dramatic periods in military history. Sekigahara puts you in the middle of the legendary struggle for control of Japan, fighting to become the next Shogun in a civil war that shaped the nation’s destiny. For anyone who loves samurai warfare, clan intrigue, or grand tactical decision-making, this game delivers.

Beyond the theme and mechanics, Sekigahara does something very important: it teaches you how block games work, the hidden information, the maneuvering, the structure of turns and battles, all in a digestible, elegant package. It’s the kind of game that draws you in with beauty and theme, then teaches you the deeper rhythms of the genre without you even realizing it.

If you’re curious about block games, or just want a fantastic two-player strategy game with historical gravitas and refined design, Sekigahara is an absolute must-play. It’s not only a superb introduction to block games, but it may be the best in the genre.

Holland ’44 by GMT designed by Mark Simonitch

If you’ve spent any time in the historical war gaming world, the name Mark Simonitch probably needs no introduction. He’s a legendary designer known for his brilliant card-driven classics like Hannibal & Hamilcar, Hannibal: Rome vs. Carthage, and Caesar: Rome vs. Gaul—games that blend historical drama with elegant card-driven strategic play. But Simonitch is equally renowned for his work in another cornerstone of the hobby: hex-and-counter wargames.

Among his acclaimed World War II series, which includes Normandy ’44, France ’40, and Ardennes ’44, among many others and my personal favorite is Holland ’44: Operation Market-Garden. It’s the standout title in a consistently excellent lineup.

There are three things that really make this game stand out in my mind as an excellent choice to explore hex and combat warfare on the tabletop.

First, the rules system is intuitive and elegant, especially for the genre. It features core mechanics like zones of control, step losses, terrain effects, and combat results tables, but without the kind of overwhelming complexity often associated with traditional hex-based wargames. It uses a familiar “I go, you go” turn structure, and everything is presented in a clean, logical format that helps you ease into the broader world of hex-and-counter design.

Second, learning Holland ’44 doesn’t just teach you this game, it opens the door to an entire series of similarly structured titles. Once you’ve grasped Simonitch’s system, moving on to other battles in the same line, not limited to but including Normandy ’44, Sicily ’43, Salerno ’43, and more, feels like a natural progression rather than starting from scratch. You’ll already understand the basic rhythms, and each game simply layers on new historical flavor and scenario-specific tweaks.

But the real heart of Holland ’44 is the fascinating historical battle it simulates: Operation Market-Garden, the bold Allied attempt to seize key bridges in the Netherlands in late 1944. The scenario is filled with tension, tight decision-making, and a delicate balance of aggression and caution. The interplay between airborne landings, armored thrusts, and critical chokepoints creates a dynamic and suspenseful experience.

This isn’t a quick game, it will take 4-5 hours so you’ll want to dig in, focus, and commit. But in return, you get a deeply strategic, highly replayable, and richly thematic battle that captures the ebb and flow of this ambitious WWII operation. There’s a unique narrative tension to it, driven by risky gambits and critical timing, especially around bridges and river crossings, that makes every session memorable.

If you’re even remotely curious about the hex-and-counter style of war games, Holland ’44 is a fantastic place to start. It’s approachable, richly historical, and part of a broader system that rewards your time and effort with an expanding world of connected titles. Simonitch’s series isn’t just a masterclass in design, it’s a gateway to a whole new level of historical gaming.

Conclusion

Hopefully, from this article, you got some advice, tips on a few good entry points to the sub-hobby of historical strategy/war games and perhaps found something to research further.

Game selection is, in the end, a personal thing, and I think it would be criminal for me to leave you with just entry-level options without slipping in some of my personal favorites. So in this final bit, I will leave you with a few more entries to consider. These aren’t exactly entry-level games so you will want some experience before diving into these, but I consider them absolute staples of the genre.

Imperial Struggle by GMT Designers Ananda Gupta and Jason Mathews

You’ve probably heard of Twilight Struggle, it’s a titan in the board gaming world, consistently ranked among the top 10 on BoardGameGeek. And while it’s a phenomenal game, it’s not my pick for newcomers to historical strategy games. Instead, I’d point you to a different title from the same acclaimed design duo: Imperial Struggle.

Where Twilight Struggle distilled the Cold War into a tense, card-driven duel of influence, Imperial Struggle goes broader and deeper. It covers the century-long global rivalry between France and Britain, spanning four major wars from the War of the Spanish Succession to the American Revolution. This is a game of world-spanning conflict, military, political, and economic, played out across Europe, North America, the Caribbean, and India.

What makes Imperial Struggle such a strong entry in the influence control genre is how approachable and intuitive it feels, despite its enormous scope. The rules are tight, the turn structure clean, and the gameplay rhythm, once grasped, flows naturally. It’s the kind of game that feels complex in concept but smooth in practice. Within just a few turns, you’ll find yourself fully immersed in maneuvering fleets, shifting alliances, and managing colonial tensions without feeling overwhelmed. You’ll be thinking strategy, no rules absorption.

Even better, the mechanics aren’t overly esoteric. Even if you’re not a die-hard historical gamer, you’ll find the systems relatable and digestible, in many ways more so than its older sibling Twilight Struggle which relied heavily on deck memorization to play it successfully, creating a very high strategic learning curve. The decisions in Imperial Struggle are meaningful, the board state ever-evolving, and the replayability is immense thanks to shifting event dynamics and strategic depth.

I absolutely love this game. It’s one of the crown jewels of my collection, ambitious in design, elegant in execution, and endlessly rewarding to play.

Paths of Glory by GMT designed by Ted Raicer

An absolute classic in the historical war game genre, Paths of Glory was originally released in 1999 and has been consistently updated and refined ever since.

In this game, you command the entirety of World War I from start to finish, using a brilliant card-driven mechanic on a point-to-point map. The claustrophobic nature of trench warfare, the unreliable timing of allies, and the unpredictable escalation of the war are all captured with exceptional nuance; every session unfolds differently.

There are no set routines, no default strategies, no predictable scripts. This is a war you fight on instinct. Yet every decision, every troop movement, every card play, every offensive, is deeply impactful and often dramatic.

When you make a mistake, the consequences are disastrous. When you succeed, you feel like a genius. It’s a game that pulls you in emotionally, and I’ve never met anyone who played it just once. Paths of Glory is practically a self-contained hobby, thanks to its addictive, immersive nature.

It remains one of the finest historical war games ever made and one of the few that captures the full scale and horror of World War I.

Paths of Glory is to historical war games what Agricola is to Euro games, a sort of complex but timeless classic that you could almost say you should play at least once in your life.

The U.S. Civil War by GMT designed by Mark Simonitch

There are only a handful of games I would call a “complete experience” or the “final word” on a historical subject, and The U.S. Civil War is one of them. In my eyes, it’s a masterpiece: a sweeping, deeply nuanced simulation of the entire American Civil War, capturing both the complexity and the inevitability of its outcome.

This game fully embraces the asymmetry of the conflict, as both sides struggle with unsolvable logistical nightmares while fighting a war that often feels impossible to win. It’s not just a historical re-enactment, it’s a “what if” engine. The game asks you: What would you do differently? It gives you the freedom to try, and yet, the more you play, the more you find yourself making the same agonizing decisions the real generals made. It feels like history asserting itself, no matter what path you choose.

That’s the magic of The U.S. Civil War. It’s not only a strategic challenge, but an experiment in inevitability. The simulation is so tight and evocative, it teaches you why history unfolded the way it did, not by telling you, but by letting you live it.

It also happens to be an excellent solo experience. With no hidden information, it becomes a pure strategic exercise, where you’re simply trying to outthink yourself on both sides of the conflict.

This is one of my absolute favorite games. If you’re at all interested in Civil War history, this is the game to play. It’s the crown jewel of the genre.

Empire of the Sun by GMT designed by Mark Herman

The coup de grâce of historical war games, Empire of the Sun is nothing short of a masterpiece. Without question, it is, in my opinion, the greatest board game ever designed, across all genres. It is the final word on what truly brilliant game design looks like.

But brilliance has a cost.

Empire of the Sun is also one of the most complex, demanding, and mentally taxing historical war games in existence. It stretches the very definition of “depth” until it feels like there’s no bottom. A card-driven, operational-level, hex-and-counter simulation of the Pacific War, it pushes the boundaries of what is reasonable to ask of players.

And yet, if you persevere, if you navigate the labyrinth of rules and begin to grasp not just how the game works, but why, you reach a moment of sublime understanding that is unlike anything else in gaming. It’s not just rewarding. It’s transformative. Finding someone else who also knows how to play Empire of the Sun feels like discovering a secret society.

The simulation is extraordinary. Like The U.S. Civil War, you are free to rewrite history, but in Empire of the Sun, the possibilities are endless. You can change the war. Improve on it. Explore it. Reimagine it. The game practically dares you to study history, to go beyond the table and into the depths of books and documentaries, simply to keep pace with what it’s offering you, and each real-world discovery you will be able to apply the game. The simulation is so realistic that real-world knowledge applies.

It is, for the right player, pure bliss. But I won’t pretend it’s for everyone. In fact, I suspect most players will never make it through the rules—and that’s okay.

But if you ever find yourself searching for the ultimate challenge in historical gaming, Empire of the Sun awaits. One of the finest board games ever made, and a towering monument to what this hobby can achieve.

Hope you enjoyed the article, this one was for my historical war gamer readers who I’m almost certain will disagree with just about everything I said, but so it is with historical war gaming. Lots of opinions, lots of personal investment. Finding your own games and routines is a big part of the magic show, so go out there and explore!

The Big Board Gaming Weekend – 2025

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

The Fellowship of the Ring: Trick-Taking Game

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vampire: The Masquerade – Vendetta

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raise The Goblets

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

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

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

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

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

Blood Rage

There are games and then there are symphonies.

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

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

You might wonder why the devotion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valor and Villainy: Minions of Mordak

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viticulture

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

There are two reasons why.

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

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

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

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

Oath

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Empires: Age of Discovery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bang The Dice Game

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

Make of that what you will.

Red Rising

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dead of Winter

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

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

But it’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lords of Waterdeep

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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