In Theory: AI Art In Board Games

While I generally try to avoid controversy on this site and stick to what I enjoy most, reviewing games, talking about games and, well… more games, now and then a subject comes along that is simply impossible to ignore.

This is one of those subjects.

As someone who reviews board games, I’m increasingly running into games that use AI-generated artwork, which means I have to make a decision about how I’m going to treat them. Do I ignore it? Mention it? Penalize it? Celebrate it? Pretend it isn’t there and hope nobody notices?

Sooner or later, I have to put my cards on the table, explain my position and live with the consequences. The internet being what it is, remaining silent makes you complicit, while saying anything at all guarantees that one tribe or the other will decide you’re the villain of the week. It’s a remarkable system we’ve built for ourselves in which you are always left with a lose-lose scenario.

I’ve touched on AI artwork in a few previous reviews, most recently Syncanite Foundation and Kingdom Legacy, and those conversations have helped me work out where I stand. But scattered comments buried inside reviews aren’t enough anymore. I need to make dealing with AI art work part of my rating system, so that I can respond to it in an objective and fair way.

So this article will be the official GamersDungeon position on AI artwork in board games, how I’m going to approach it as a reviewer and, most importantly, how it will impact the rating/scores that games receive going forward.

The Controversy

Unless you’ve been hiding under a particularly large and comfortable rock, you’re probably aware that AI is everywhere. In the tabletop hobby, and especially in board games, role playing games and miniature games, AI-generated artwork has become one of the most divisive subjects around.

Mention it in a comment section, and you’ll usually have enough material for a three-day flame war.

While there are dozens of individual arguments and plenty of grey areas, the debate generally revolves around three major points.

The first is that generative AI art is fundamentally a form of theft. The argument is that AI models are trained on existing artwork created by real artists and then produce derivative images without permission, attribution or compensation. In other words, the machine is standing on the shoulders of artists who never agreed to hold it up.

Adobe Firefly combats Generative AI theft by training it’s AI on public domain images and images willingly provided by artists. This is just one of many unique methods that put to question the argument that Generative AI images are theft. Hence the problem with this argument.

The second argument is economic. Every AI image used by a publisher is potentially one less commission for a human artist. If a company can generate an illustration in minutes instead of paying an illustrator, more profit stays with the publisher, while fewer opportunities exist for the people who built the artistic foundation AI relies upon. To critics, it isn’t just replacing jobs, it’s replacing them with something built from the work of those same artists.

Finally, there is the quality argument. Critics often describe AI art as soulless, repetitive, and creatively hollow, produced by systems that consume enormous amounts of computing power and energy simply to flood the internet with an endless stream of technically competent but artistically disposable images. The term AI slop didn’t appear out of nowhere.

There are plenty of smaller arguments, edge cases and philosophical rabbit holes that could fill an entire series of articles, but these three points are the heavy hitters. If I can explain where I stand on them, then I can also explain how AI artwork will be treated in reviews here on GamersDungeon going forward.

First, however, we have to talk about the elephant in the room.

Circumstances Matter

I’ve never had much patience for ivory tower thinking or the modern habit of treating every issue like it’s a football match where you have to pick a side and spend the next six months screaming at the other team.

The real world is a lot messier than that.

Real people have real jobs, real businesses, real families and real bills to pay. Artists, publishers, designers, consumers and even the people building AI tools all have different incentives and different circumstances. Any position that completely ignores one side in favour of ideological purity is, in my opinion, more interested in winning an argument than solving a problem.

Kingdom Legacy and Fryxelius Games is a great example of circumstances mattering. This is a family run business of creative people who are doing their best to bring great games to us. They however like all businesses have to make compromises. In the case of Kingdom Legacy, your talking about producing art for 140 quardruple sided cards requiring around 500 images for a game that can’t cost more than 10-15 bucks for it to be marketable. Had Fryxelius games hired an artist to create these images this game would never see the light of day and if it did it would cost more than anyone would be willing to pay for a game that is effectively a box with 140 cards in it.

That isn’t particularly useful to me.

So I’m not going to approach AI artwork from the perspective of absolute morality, nor am I going to pretend that technological progress can simply be wished away. My position has to account for the many people affected by it, which means it’s inevitably going to be a compromise.

To put it plainly, I’m not taking the easy route of saying “I refuse to review games with AI art” and I’m equally not going to shrug and say “I don’t care, embrace the future.”

Somewhere between those two extremes is a position that I think is both fair and practical. Whether you ultimately agree with it or not, I think it’s worth explaining how I arrived there before I tell you what the policy will be.

AI Art is Stealing

This is probably the biggest argument against AI-generated art, and it’s also the one I find the hardest to apply in practice.

Not because I know it isn’t true, but because I don’t know that it is.

I’m not an AI engineer, and I’m certainly not qualified to explain exactly what every image model is doing behind the scenes. More importantly, not every AI is trained the same way. Some models are trained on enormous collections of scraped images, while others are built from artwork that has been voluntarily submitted or properly licensed by the artists involved.

Those are very different situations.

A good example is Kingdom Legacy. After doing some research for that review, I discovered that the publisher uses an AI trained on artwork freely contributed by artists. If that’s the case, then the blanket statement that “AI art is theft” simply doesn’t apply.

The problem is that I can’t realistically investigate the AI training methods behind every game that uses AI-art I review, and even if I tried, publishers have no obligation to explain their workflow or be completely transparent about it.

So what am I supposed to do? Assume everyone is guilty until proven innocent? Or assume everyone is acting ethically until proven otherwise?

Neither approach seems particularly reasonable.

For that reason, I can’t base my review policy on the argument that AI art is inherently stealing. There are simply too many variables, too many different models and too many different ways of using the technology for me to conclude that every instance of generative AI is automatically unethical.

That’s not the same as saying the concern isn’t valid. It’s saying that, as a reviewer sitting behind a keyboard trying to decide whether a board game deserves a 3.5 or a 4, I don’t have enough information to make that judgment consistently or fairly.

So, for the most part, I set this argument aside. Not because I dismissed it, but because I don’t think it provides a practical foundation for a review policy.

They Took’ma’job!

I’m going to keep this one relatively short. Technology replaces people. It always has.

The printing press replaced scribes, photography replaced portrait painters, tractors replaced farm workers, digital distribution replaced video rental stores and the internet made life very uncomfortable for anyone who thought selling encyclopedias door to door was a long-term career plan.

We can resist it, protest it and argue about whether it’s a good thing, and sometimes those arguments are completely justified. History, however, has a habit of continuing anyway.

Dragonfoot Forums, one of the oldest D&D forums in existance has recently taken the decision to ban AI art from their forums and will moderate AI created material published through their site. This sort of reaction to AI art is common. Gamers everywhere are rejecting AI normalization and for good reason. Art is culture and AI is erasing it.

My personal philosophy has always been simple. Adapt and survive. Do I think it’s a good thing if artists lose work to AI? Absolutely not. But that isn’t actually what influences my reviews.

What influences my reviews is that I have yet to see AI-generated artwork that was worth replacing a human artist for in the first place.

That’s the important distinction.

I’m not making a moral judgment about technological progress. I’m making an artistic judgment about the end result.

And, quite frankly, I’m not impressed.

To me, AI artwork is shallow, repetitive and creatively uninteresting. I have no desire to sit here debating whether a particular image is “good AI” or “bad AI” any more than I want to debate whether instant coffee is “good coffee.” At best, it’s mediocre. At worst, it’s visual wallpaper that exists solely because someone needed a dragon by Tuesday afternoon.

Talent is something people develop over years of practice. Style is something people earn through experience, experimentation and failure. If the artwork in a game can be produced by me, my neighbour and a reasonably motivated golden retriever typing prompts into the same generator, then I struggle to assign much artistic value to it.

As a reviewer, that matters.

If I believe components contribute to the overall experience of a board game, then artwork is part of that equation, and artwork that I consider generic, uninspired or interchangeable should naturally be reflected in the score.

But even that isn’t really the heart of the issue.

The real reason AI art matters to me is something much more fundamental.

AI Art Has No Soul

This is the argument that ultimately matters to me.

I’ve already said that I’m unconvinced by the blanket claim that all AI art is theft and equally unconvinced that I can somehow stop technological progress by refusing to acknowledge it.

None of that changes the simple fact that I don’t like AI art. Not a little. Not “when it’s used badly.” I don’t like it at all.

The ecological cost, the enormous computing resources and the economic disruption only reinforce an opinion I already have, which is that the end result simply isn’t worth it. It’s an extraordinary amount of effort and energy being spent to produce something that, in my eyes, is artistically mediocre.

To me there is no masterpiece hiding inside AI-generated artwork, only different flavours of competent wallpaper. It can be technically impressive, visually striking and even useful, but I have yet to see anything that makes me stop and appreciate the person behind it.

Because there isn’t one.

Syncanite Foundation is one of those rare exceptions where I thought the AI art was well curated. It was the first review I ever did for a project with AI art however and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. In the end, I chose to just judge the art as I would any other, but it felt wrong. I don’t want to judge AI art, it felt empty, like I was speaking to a void rather than complimenting a persons hard work. This is what I want to avoid having to do in my reviews.

What makes art meaningful to me isn’t perfection. It’s the evidence that another human being sat down with a skill they spent years developing and created something that could only exist because they chose to make it. The mistakes, the style, the personality and even the imperfections are part of the experience.

That’s the soul.

AI removes the very thing I value most about art and replaces it with automation. It turns creativity into manufacturing, and while that may be efficient, efficiency has never been the quality that made me love board games, role playing games or miniature games in the first place.

So this is where I draw my line. Not because I think AI should be banned. Not because I think everyone who uses it is acting unethically. And not because I believe technology can be put back into the bottle.

But because, as a reviewer, I want to reward human creativity wherever I find it. Choosing a human artist over a prompt is, in my opinion, an investment in the very creative spirit that makes this hobby worth celebrating.

That’s my protest.

To me, replacing genuine artistic expression with AI artwork is like spray painting over a beautiful mural. The person holding the can may have perfectly reasonable motivations and the paint may even look neat from a distance, but something uniquely human has still been covered up in the process.

And that, more than any legal or economic argument, is why AI artwork will matter in my reviews.

Conclusion

I should probably end with a confession. I use AI art in my own projects.

When I wrote my D&D adventure The Lost Citadel, a project I’m genuinely proud of, I used AI-generated artwork for one very simple reason. I couldn’t afford to hire an artist, or perhaps more accurately, I didn’t want to afford hiring an artist. It was a hobby project, I did it for fun, not as a business venture.

That doesn’t suddenly make the artwork great.

If anything, I fully accept that the book is artistically less than it could have been. The illustrations do their job, but they don’t define the identity of the book the way a human artist could have. They lack personality, style and, for want of a better word, soul.

And if someone looked at The Lost Citadel, decided it was AI slop and chose not to buy it, I wouldn’t hold it against them for a second.

I understand the position because I understand the compromise I made.

As a reviewer, however, I don’t think the answer is to draw a line so extreme that any game containing AI artwork is immediately dismissed as worthless.

A board game is more than its illustrations.

It is mechanics, design, theme, writing, balance, playtesting, production and countless hours of work by real people who may have chosen AI art for reasons ranging from budget constraints to simple practicality. Just as I don’t want my own work dismissed solely because I couldn’t afford an illustrator, I’m not going to do that to someone else.

But I also think there should be a clear acknowledgement that AI artwork is not something I value as an artistic contribution.

So this is the new policy at GamersDungeon.

Any game that uses AI-generated artwork will receive a maximum of 1 star in the Theme category of my reviews.

That doesn’t mean the game is bad. It doesn’t mean I won’t recommend it. It doesn’t mean the designers are lazy or unethical.

It simply means that, in my view, AI-generated artwork does not meaningfully contribute to the artistic identity of a board game and therefore cannot receive a higher score in a category where artistic presentation is a major consideration.

Everything else will still be judged on its own merits. Great mechanics will still be great mechanics. Brilliant design will still be brilliant design. An exceptional game can still receive an exceptional overall score.

In fact, Kingdom Legacy: Exploration managed a respectable 3.15 out of 5 despite receiving only 1 star for Theme.

So this isn’t a boycott. It’s a statement of values.

If you choose AI artwork instead of human artistry, I’m not going to refuse to review your game, and I’m not going to pretend the rest of your work doesn’t matter.

Gamersdungeon.net rating system will be updated with the new AI based rule put into effect. For me, this is a compromise and the most appropriate way to handle AI. It may change in the future, but for now I feel like it’s good middle ground I can work with.

I’m simply going to score the art exactly as I see it. The absence of effort, the equivillant of copy/pasting it from some other source, a non-contributor.

And from this day forward, that’s how AI-generated artwork will be handled on GamersDungeon.net.

And that’s all, folks!

Review: Kingdom Legacy: Exploration Expansion

When I reviewed Kingdom Legacy back in March, it walked away with a respectable 3 out of 5 stars. That’s probably worth explaining because, unlike much of the internet, I don’t believe anything short of perfection deserves to be launched into the sun. A three-star score is a very solid game in my book and absolutely worth playing. Anything above two stars is worth consideration.

That said, Kingdom Legacy wasn’t flawless from the standpoint of objective review. It had a few rough edges, and typically, I would say this is exactly why expansions exist. They’re often a second chance, the patch note in physical form, the opportunity to take a good game and turn it into a great one.

Kingdom Legacy, however, is a unique beast; the exploration expansion, like the many expansions that proceeded are not intended to fix balance or adapt playstyle, they are in a sense, a way to continue your legacy experience as you build up your own personal little world. It’s a bit more like a sequel or director’s cut with extra scenes for something you already love. This expansion isn’t trying to fix anything, for better or worse.

Unlike many of the other expansions for Kingdom Legacy, Exploration is not a modest little add-on either. There are almost as many cards here as in the original box, which means there is an awful lot of new content to explore. Yes, the pun is entirely intended, and no, I refuse to apologise for it.

So the question here isn’t whether Kingdom Legacy: Exploration fixes the game; the question is more about how it expands on the already awesome gameplay you know and love.

Overview

Final Score: christmas_star christmas_starchristmas_star( 3.15 out 5) Good Game!

One thing worth pointing out about my rating system is that it’s not necessarily a reflection of how much I like a game. Instead, it is an attempt to score games against a consistent structure that’s intended to be as objective as possible and fair as possible across all game reviews.

If you don’t believe me, consider that Blood Rage is still the only game in GamersDungeon.net history to receive a perfect 5 out of 5 stars, yet it does not even make my personal top twenty games of all time list. Meanwhile, Great Western Trail has sat comfortably on that list for nearly a decade despite earning only 3 out of 5 stars in my review. What I play and what rating a game gets using my rating system are not always going to align. Preference is not the same as judgment.

I consider Blood Rage to be a master class in game design and publishing. It is a perfect game, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it flies to the top of my playlist. I enjoy it, but perfection and preference are not always bedfellows.

Kingdom Legacy falls into exactly that difference and, ultimately, so does Kingdom Legacy: Exploration.

If you asked me over a cup of coffee what I think of Kingdom Legacy, I would tell you it’s one of the most addictive solo card games I have played in years. It has occupied an embarrassing amount of my table time, and this expansion simply gives me even more reasons to keep shuffling cards instead of doing something sensible with my time.

As my wife says when she catches me on the deck shuffling cards, “Are you gonna do that all day?”, The answer is, yes, now fetch me a beer, wench!, I have a kingdom to run! (Note: this joke was approved by the wife; no husbands were injured or killed during the writing of this joke.)

Kingdom Legacy is an exceptionally simple game to learn and an addictive game to play that is just perfect as a solo experience. It has a ton of nuanced decisions that will have you asking the question, what if I… quite a bit.

In fact, this happens often enough that I am seriously considering adding a personal score to future reviews just to separate objective analysis and my personal preferences.

Kingdom Legacy: Exploration does quite a bit to change the overall rating of the original game, not so much because the latest edition of the game (2nd edition) changes anything, but my entire reflection on what this game is and how it is played was vastly altered by adding an expansion to it. Not that it changed how you play, but more like it opened a new avenue of understanding just what this game is about and what about it makes it so brilliant while also simultaneously exposing some of its flaws as a product.

In Exploration, you will find lots of cards that play off each other, but you won’t get them all in play, so there are some tough choices to make that you will have to ponder, but as was the case in the base game, it’s not always 100% clear how these will impact you in later stages of the game. That is the fun part with this system: you do stuff to see what happens.

If you already enjoy Kingdom Legacy and your first thought after finishing a campaign was “I wish there was more of this,” then congratulations, your wish has been granted ten times over. This expansion adds more cards, more scoring opportunities, and more crucial decisions to the expansion of your kingdom than the core game did to this point.

On the other hand, if the base game never clicked for you, Exploration is unlikely to perform some sort of cardboard miracle. It is unapologetically an expansion for existing fans, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. While many expansions try to patch weaknesses or inject additional or new systems to attract new players, Exploration instead looks at Kingdom Legacy, nods approvingly, and says, “Here, have more.”

All of the new content focuses on the later stages of the game, where your kingdom is already sprawling, but like the core game, every decision has layers of consequences attached to it. Just like the base game, you will only see a fraction of the available cards in any single campaign, meaning it will take many plays before everything reveals itself. In a way, that is a flaw with Kingdom Legacy as a product, as it is a legacy game designed to be played once.

Thankfully, the designers anticipated that. Unlike the core box, Kingdom Legacy: Exploration is designed to be played twice, meaning two base game campaigns (two kingdoms) can make full use of a single expansion.

And, as has become almost standard practice with this legacy game, sleeving the cards allows you to preserve and reset the experience if you prefer your kingdoms recyclable rather than disposable.

So what new treasures does Exploration offer? Well, if you’re a fan of this game, you’re in for a treat!

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Good card quality cards with great documentation and online support for the game.

Cons: No major flaws, but there is nothing awe-inspiring; it’s just good.

Component quality in Kingdom Legacy: Exploration is identical to that of the core game, which is to say, quite good.

There is admittedly not a great deal to discuss here because, at the end of the day, it’s still a box full of cards. Thankfully, they are good quality cards with a nice finish and perfectly in line with what you would expect from a modern collectible card game. They shuffle well, hold up to repeated play, and serve that aesthetic and addictive process of card handling we all love perfectly.

The instructions for integrating the expansion into the base game are clear and straightforward, avoiding the all too common expansion tradition of making you search three rulebooks and a forum post from 2022 just to figure out where one deck is supposed to go.

It also benefits from the same excellent online support as the core game, making setup and rule questions easy to resolve.

Most importantly, the expansion feels completely consistent with the original release. Nothing about the presentation feels rushed or tacked on. It looks, feels, and plays like it was always intended to be part of the Kingdom Legacy experience, and for that reason, it earns exactly the same score as the core game, which is to say there is nothing particularly awe-inspiring; it’s just good.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Mechanics and theme connect to create an addictive engine-building game with personality.

Cons:  The use of AI images absolutetly kills this game’s spirit, it makes it feel generic and uninspired with many poorly curated images.  It’s all rather soulless.

The central theme of Kingdom Legacy: Exploration is exactly what the title promises. Exploration opens up vast new lands to discover, unique buildings to construct, interesting people to recruit, and specialised equipment to uncover. All of this greatly expands the number of scoring opportunities available while also giving the impression that your kingdom has matured and is entering a much more robust level of growth. It’s all thematically well-connected.

In terms of expansions, there is no official order in which expansions for Kingdom Legacy are to be played, but to me, it felt quite right to have exploration be the first; it just feels like a natural fit.

Mechanically, I would not say the expansion dramatically changes the experience. It’s very much just more of the Kingdom Legacy you already like, which is exactly what fans are looking for. There are a handful of new events and scoring opportunities that are genuinely clever and produce the same little moments of surprise and satisfaction that made the base game so addictive. Nothing here fundamentally changes my opinion of the theme, but there are plenty of memorable moments that will leave you smiling just the same, and that is all I can say about that without spoilers.

Unfortunately, there is one grim topic that still hangs over Kingdom Legacy like an unwanted random event card, and it is more relevant now than when this game was first released.

Neither the second edition nor the Exploration expansion addresses the game’s reliance on AI-generated artwork; in fact, it leans fully into it as if this is not a major controversy in the board gaming world, a major miscalculation on the part of the publisher. The visual style remains inconsistent, with AI images that often look poorly curated and disconnected from one another.

This is a very common opinion about the use of AI images in board games. I would recommend that anyone publishing a board game in the future avoid AI art like the plague; whatever the benefit is, it’s not worth the backlash. AI art used to be disliked; at this point, using it makes you a pariah.

My position on the use of AI in board games hasn’t changed, which is to say, I don’t really care that much about it for hobby projects and small struggling publishers trying to get their game out, but I recognise that it’s an obvious shortcut, and it typically quite dramatically reduces the quality of a game. This is very true for Kingdom Legacy; it’s a considerably lesser game because of the use of AI images.

When I reviewed the original Kingdom Legacy release, I was willing to overlook AI in the rating because Kingdom Legacy was clearly a passion project from a small team experimenting with a new idea, and I was happy to give it the benefit of the doubt that this shortcut was taken out of necessity.

That argument and the leeway given are no longer appropriate. Kingdom Legacy has found an audience. It received a second edition. It has successfully launched many expansions. It is no longer an unknown experiment but an established product from a successful and prominent publisher with a proven record of success.

Simply put, any excuse given by an established publisher about why they use AI Images rather than hiring a real artist simply does not fly and should be vigorously opposed.

I think board game fans are justified in not supporting AI-generated games, as it damages the hobby as a whole. The more people that do this, the more it will normalise, and the less distinct and unique games will become. As hobbyists, we should fight against, speak out against, and reject AI art in our games, especially from established publishers who should know better and have the means to do better.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: It has that addictive, just one more turn presence, lots of cool surprises for existing fans.

Cons: The legacy component of this game is out of place; it’s more a nuisance than a feature.

Writing a gameplay review for a legacy game is a strange challenge because the entire point is that I am not supposed to tell you what happens. It’s a bit like reviewing a detective novel by saying, “The ending is great, trust me,” and hoping everyone simply accepts that.

So I am going to dance around the spoilers as gracefully as I can.

Kingdom Legacy: Exploration focuses, like all of the Kingdom Legacy expansions, on the late stages of your campaign. The core game is all about building your tiny kingdom from a few acres of land. The expansions are where you get to take that creation out for a victory lap and see what else it can become.

I think that is one of Kingdom Legacy’s greatest strengths. That feeling of civilisation building.

By the time you reach Exploration, you’ve already made dozens of unique decisions that shaped your kingdom. You have watched opportunities come and go, suffered through disasters, stumbled into unexpected successes and built something that somehow feels distinctly yours. It’s just a deck of cards, yet it develops a surprising amount of personality.

That is also why Kingdom Legacy is so addictive.

The attachment is not really to the mechanics but to the story that emerges from your choices and micro experiences that feel great in solitude. You want to see what happens next, even if what happens next is another tax collector demanding resources you no longer have.

Exploration gives you exactly that. It hands you another toy box filled with new lands, new scoring opportunities and new cards to weave into your existing kingdom. It’s undeniably fun, and there is plenty to discover.

At the same time, I never felt that the expansion fundamentally refreshed the experience in some meaningful way. Unlike most expansions to games, there wasn’t this “oh wow, ok that changes everything” moment. It was basically the same game with new cards.

By the time your kingdom is fully developed, when you complete the base set, those additional rounds in the expansion feel more like extending a great evening than starting a brand new adventure. I enjoyed every minute of it, but there is an unavoidable sense that you are still playing with the same systems and the same ideas.

The best comparison I can think of is playing Magic: The Gathering with your favourite deck after adding a handful of exciting new cards. The deck is better, you have a few new tricks, and you are happy to keep playing it, but part of you is also looking forward to the next expansion that introduces an entirely new set and shakes everything up so that you can build new decks.

There were also a few moments that genuinely caught me off guard.

Without spoiling anything, Exploration hides several clever little surprises that feel almost like easter eggs for dedicated players. Those moments produced exactly the kind of grin that made me keep turning over cards long after I probably should have gone to bed.

The expansion also introduces some additional resources and gameplay elements. Whether these originated here or appeared in other expansions first, I can’t say, but they were new to me. They add some welcome variety and interesting decisions without dramatically changing the flow of the game.

I realise this entire section has been frustratingly vague, but that is the price of reviewing a legacy game without ruining the experience.

So let me keep the gameplay conclusion simple.

If you enjoyed Kingdom Legacie’s mechanics and addictive just one more turn nature, then Exploration is an easy recommendation. There is a huge amount of content packed into the box, plenty of new ways to develop your kingdom, lots of satisfying scoring combinations and a handful of genuinely delightful surprises waiting to be discovered. It never reinvented the game for me, but it absolutely reminded me why I enjoyed it so much in the first place.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

 

Pros: The experience of building up your kingdom is dramatically enhanced by a large library of new cards to explore and add to your kingdom

Cons:  It’s too confined and short; you’ll finish this expansion in a single sitting, and then it’s over forever.

Replayability in a legacy game is always a slightly awkward subject because, technically speaking, there is none.

The game is designed to be played once, experienced once and then retired. It is an engine built with a finite amount of fuel; eventually, the tank runs dry.

Kingdom Legacy: Exploration is essentially an extra fuel tank bolted onto the side of the original game. It extends the journey, gives you more places to visit and more things to discover, but eventually you arrive at the same destination.

There is something genuinely satisfying about the finality of that experience. Picking up a kingdom that you thought was finished, dusting it off and giving it one last adventure feels surprisingly nostalgic. Your little collection of cards has history. You remember why that building is there, why that character survived and why you still refuse to forgive that one event card that nearly ruined everything.

The problem is that while the game’s end is satisfying, it’s not a game end where you’re done with the game forever.

One of the most common comments you will see about Kingdom Legacy is that everyone is trying to figure out how to avoid the legacy component. It’s just a bad fit for this game.

That is perhaps the greatest strength and the greatest weakness of Kingdom Legacy.

When you finish, your immediate reaction is not relief or closure. It is the overwhelming urge to shuffle everything up and play again, because that is what we do with games we love. Replayability is, after all, one of the defining reasons this hobby exists.

Thankfully, Kingdom Legacy offers a very easy way to bend the rules. Sleeve the cards, use removable markers and suddenly the entire legacy experience becomes reusable. It is not difficult to do, and it is absolutely the approach I would recommend to anyone buying the game.

However, I have to judge replayability based on the experience the designers intended, not the one clever players can engineer for themselves.

Viewed through that lens, Kingdom Legacy: Exploration is still a one-time journey. It is an excellent journey, a memorable one and a longer one than before, but once you reach the end of the road, there are no official turns left to take.

You can always get another expansion, though, so there is that.

Conclusion

As a system, as a gameplay mechanic and as an overall experience, I think Kingdom Legacy and Kingdom Legacy: Exploration are fantastic. I have absolutely no hesitation recommending them to anyone who enjoys card games and is looking for a satisfying solo experience.

In particular, if you enjoy engine-building games that capture the feeling of growing a tiny settlement into a thriving civilisation, Kingdom Legacy delivers that experience in abundance. Every new card feels like another chapter in the story of your kingdom, and that sense of progression remains one of the most addictive gameplay loops I have encountered in recent years.

That said, I would be remiss if I did not climb onto my soapbox for a couple of minutes.

The first issue is the legacy component itself.

I have never quite shaken the feeling that Kingdom Legacy does not actually want to be a legacy game. It is almost as if someone designed an excellent solo engine builder and then, somewhere late in development, another person walked into the room and declared, “What if we made players throw it away when they finish?”

Nothing about the underlying design really benefits from being disposable, and unlike most legacy games, Kingdom Legacy is too short to give you that sense of finality and closure when you’re done playing.

In fact, I would argue the opposite. Once you understand the systems and discover the different paths available, the natural instinct is to immediately start another campaign and try something completely different. The game is packed with meaningful choices and interesting combinations that beg to be explored.

That is the mark of a highly replayable game. Yet, by design, replayability is intentionally limited.

Yes, you can sleeve the cards and preserve everything, and I strongly recommend doing exactly that, but I still find the official approach to be an unnecessary restriction on an otherwise brilliant design.

The second issue is the continued use of AI-generated artwork.

I genuinely do not understand why publishers continue to ignore what has become one of the loudest conversations in modern board gaming. Whether you personally love AI art, hate it or fall somewhere in the middle, it is impossible to deny that a majority of the hobby simply does not want it in professionally published games.

Art is one of the cornerstones of board games; it is a thriving place of creativity and imagination, to trade that in for AI slop, which is all you will find in Kingdom Legacy, is a tragedy. This game deserves so much better!

It’s so unfortunate because beneath those visual shortcomings lies one of the most charming solo card games I have played in years. Kingdom Legacy: Exploration expands everything that already works, adds meaningful content and provides several genuinely memorable surprises without losing the addictive engine-building that makes the original so compelling.

FryxGames understands and is perfectly capable of producing great art for their games, as was illustrated in the amazing work done on Fate: Defenders of Grimheim. The use of AI in Kingdom Legacy was a conscious business decision, and FryxGames has been quite open about it, offering its own take and justification for its use. The debate regarding AI in board games is far from settled, though the most likely conclusion is that we will continue to see its use with increasing consistency.

For existing fans the recommendation is incredibly easy.

There is more kingdom here, more discoveries, more clever interactions and more reasons to spend another evening telling yourself, “Just one more turn.”

If, however, you’re protesting this game because it uses AI art, know that I get it; The publisher does as well. In fairness, the official position of the publisher is that it’s too expensive to have that much art in a small, cheap solo card game, and that very well may be the case and logic behind its use. That may even be sufficient justification, a reasonable excuse, but there are plenty of other ways to work around the cost associated with art; people have been printing games without AI art for a very long time. There are other solutions; this is not a new problem.

On The Table: White Castle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are two things in particular that stand out.

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

It’s a master class in game design.

The Dice Workers

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

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

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

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

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

That’s where White Castle surprised me.

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

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

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

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

Each die has three different characteristics that matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Efficiency

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s the mark of exceptional design.

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

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

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

Quite frankly, it’s a chef’s kiss.

Conclusion

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

This game is special.

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

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

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

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

That’s a rare achievement.

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

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

Top 10 Favorite Games To Play On BoardGameArena.com

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

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

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

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

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

1. Great Western Trail

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

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

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

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

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

My endorsement here is of the highest order!

2. White Castle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Shogun

Let me start with a confession.

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

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

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

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

And yet, the Board Game Arena implementation is excellent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. Knarr

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Middle Ages

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The real magic comes from the timing.

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

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

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

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

6. The Castles of Burgundy

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

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

To be fair, I completely understand why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It vexes me.

And I shall prevail.

7. Beyond The Sun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whole experience feels like an enormous efficiency puzzle.

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

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

And fascinating throughout.

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

Beyond The Sun falls into that second category for me.

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

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

8. Aquatica

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

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

And yet, I keep playing it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is a strange design that sort of skirts expectations.

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

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

That alone makes it worth trying.

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

9. Harmonies

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

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

More importantly, I know my gaming group.

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

Board Game Arena changes that completely.

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

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

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

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

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

10. Lost Ruins of Arnak

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repeatedly.

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

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

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

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

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

I am aware that this is not how rankings work.

I stand by my decision.

Review: Finspan – (2025)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star(3.05) Good Game!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does Finspan stand on its own within this series?

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

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

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

Who is it really for?

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

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

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

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