Top 10 Boardgames for Two Players

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s get to it.

1. Best Casual or Family Game

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Patchwork

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

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

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

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

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

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

2. Best Hobbyiest Strategy Game

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Star Wars: Rebellion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Best Historical Duel

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

There is one important caveat, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s exactly what this category is about.

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

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

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

Once it clicks, though, it’s exceptional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Tide Of Iron

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4. Best Heavy Euro

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

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

The investment, however, is almost always worth it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now we’re talking about serious Euro gaming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. Best Themed Games

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

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

The magic happens when the two come together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Star Trek: Fleet Captains is the exception.

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

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

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

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

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

1. War Of The Ring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6. Best Card-Driven Influence Control

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Imperial Struggle

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

There isn’t much debate in my mind.

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

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

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

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

But it should absolutely be your destination.

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

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

7. The People’s Choice

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

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

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

That’s perfectly fine.

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

These are the games that have achieved something much rarer.

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

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

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

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

Jaipur changed that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Azul

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8. The Dodo Bird Category

Some games simply go the way of the dodo.

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

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

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

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

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

3. Star Wars: The Queen’s Gambit

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

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

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Star Wars dog fighting at it’s best!

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

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

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

1. Battlelore

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9. Best Two-Player Abstract Games

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

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

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

Puzzles, however, are universal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. YINSH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10. New Kids On The Block

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1. Toy Battle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion and Final Notes

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

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

Happy Gaming!

Review: Tembo – Survival On The Savanna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer has surprisingly little to do with elephants.

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

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

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

Tembo delivers exactly that energy.

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

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

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

Finally, I want games that earn their victories.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star(3.85) Great Strategic Puzzle

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

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

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

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

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

Then there’s your energy supply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s where Tembo really shines.

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

For all of those reasons, I absolutely adore Tembo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

Tembo is a perfect example of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s a relatively minor complaint, though.

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

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

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

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

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

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

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

Tembo is no exception.

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

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

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

The artwork deserves particular praise.

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

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

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

Then the game proceeds to repeatedly crush your spirit.

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

That contrast is strangely endearing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

Those games always get my attention.

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

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

Tembo ticks both boxes.

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

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

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

Then I lost. Again. And again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every Puzzle Feels Different

The first is the dynamic map.

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

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

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

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

Information Is a Resource

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

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

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

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

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

Resource Management Is Everything

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t mistake approachable rules for an easy game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review: First Giants (2026)

First Giants is a wonderfully straightforward tableau-building card game about excavating dinosaur fossils and assembling museum displays to score victory points. Mechanically, it’s about as simple as modern Euro games come. You’ll acquire cards, convert them into points, improve your efficiency, and repeat. It’s a gameplay loop that has been explored countless times over the past two decades, to the point where releasing a game in 2026 that relies almost entirely on this formula feels, at first glance, a little old-fashioned.

And yet… That’s exactly why I think First Giants succeeds.

The elegant rules, gorgeous illustrations, exceptional rulebook, and effortless teachability combine to create something that’s becoming surprisingly rare in today’s hobby: a genuinely approachable strategy game. One that doesn’t require an hour-long rules explanation, twenty different icon references, or a veteran gamer sitting beside you translating every symbol on the table.

Looking through other reviews, I couldn’t help but notice a common theme. Most approach First Giants from the perspective of experienced hobby gamers, asking whether it offers enough mechanical innovation and depth to compete with other games in this genre. Often comparing it to much more involved and complex games like Elysium. Let me save you the agony here: it does not, not even a little bit.

That makes a lot of sense on the surface, but I think that’s an approach that answers the wrong question.

First Giants isn’t trying to reinvent tableau building quite intentionally. It’s trying to introduce it, more specifically, it’s trying to introduce it with a theme beloved by kids, in a way that kids can get their heads around it. I have been board gaming now for over 40 years, and I can tell you that in all that time, if any kids between the ages of 8-15 come into my office to pick a game, they will grab one with dinosaurs on it 100% of the time. It’s just how it is, kids love dinosaurs! Hence, a game about Dinosaurs has to be for kids.

If you’re looking for the next Ark Nova, Terraforming Mars, or Earth, this probably isn’t the game that’s going to blow your socks off. But if you’re looking for a game you can comfortably put in front of your children, your parents, or friends who think UNO represents the pinnacle of modern board game design, First Giants suddenly becomes a much more interesting proposition.

Lots and lots of dinosaurs, that’s what this game is. It’s a theme masquerading as a strategy game. The point here I think, is that when you want to get kids to the table, you need a good hook. Dinosaurs are easy to sell.

Wrap that universal appeal around a genuinely solid gateway game, and you’ve got something that’s arguably far more valuable than yet another mechanically brilliant Euro destined to be played exclusively by people who already own fifty mechanically brilliant Euros.

Sometimes a game doesn’t need to innovate. Sometimes it just needs to be exactly the game someone is ready to discover. That is the target audience for First Giants, people taking their first steps, and most importantly, kids.

Overview

Final Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star(4.05) Great Family Game 

First Giants takes one of the hobby’s most familiar mechanisms, card-based tableau building, and strips it down to its absolute essentials. There are no elaborate engine-building chains, no sprawling technology trees, and no half-dozen subsystems all competing for your attention. You buy cards, build a collection of dinosaur fossils, use their abilities as efficiently as possible, and eventually convert those collections into museum displays worth victory points.

And……that’s pretty much the entire game.

Normally, that might sound like criticism, in most reviews I read for First Giants, that was in fact the criticism levied against it. The game doesn’t innovate established mechanics, it lacks depth, and it’s, in a word, too simple. I see an issue with that approach to First Giants, this is a game that does those things very intentionally.

At no point did I get the impression that the designers lacked the ability to make the game more complex with greater strategic depth. Quite the opposite. There are countless directions they could have taken the design, additional resources, more player interaction, asymmetric powers, multi-stage fossil excavations, set collection bonuses, evolving museums, the possibilities are practically endless.

They simply chose not to. That restraint says far more about the designer’s intentions than their ability.

Mathew Dunstan and Brett Gilbert are perfectly capable designers who gave us the amazing Elysium, a card-driven tableau builder First Giants has a lot in common with. It’s a deep and rich strategic game that takes the very basic concept in First Giants and goes crazy with it.

First Giants knows exactly what it wants to be.

This isn’t a game designed for hobby veterans looking for their next heavy Euro obsession. It’s a game about dinosaurs aimed at families and younger players, officially recommended for ages 10 and up, although I wouldn’t hesitate to play it with children in the 6-8 age range.

And that’s where everything suddenly clicks.

The fun isn’t found in optimizing an economic engine or calculating the perfect scoring combo. The fun is discovering dinosaurs.

When I played First Giants with kids, the strategy quickly became secondary. They weren’t excited because they had found the most efficient card. They were excited because they had found their favorite dinosaur. Every new fossil sparked questions, conversations, and enthusiastic declarations about which prehistoric giant was the coolest.

That tells me the game succeeded.

The artwork deserves enormous credit here. Every card is beautifully illustrated in a soft watercolor style that feels more like the pages of a children’s natural history book than a traditional board game. Combined with the thick, oversized components, everything about First Giants feels welcoming, tactile, and wonderfully inviting.

The production continues that philosophy with one of my favorite inclusions in the entire box: the dinosaur appendix.

On paper, it’s simply a reference booklet explaining each card, organized by dinosaur types.

In reality, it feels like the kind of guide you’d pick up at the entrance to a natural history museum at that exciting moment right before you get to see all those wonderful giant monsters on display.

When I introduced First Giants to younger players, that booklet quickly became the most popular component in the box. They passed it around, argued over who got to read it next, and spent far more time asking me questions about dinosaurs than they did asking about the rules of the game.

That’s the moment where First Giants reveals what it’s really trying to accomplish.

It’s not simply teaching children how tableau building works. It’s encouraging curiosity.

When I was growing up educational games that were supposed to be “fun” while they taught, were boring tests of knowledge we had no hope of having acquired. It was silly. I’ve always believed that using games to inspire, rather than teach, was far more effective.

I suspect that’s exactly what the designers were hoping would happen. In fact, as I read the bios of Bret Gilbert and Mathew Dunstan, the two designers behind First Giants, I could almost imagine the conversations they had as they made this game.

As someone with a large extended family, where “Uncle Chris’s house” has slowly become synonymous with board games, I have absolutely no doubt First Giants will see plenty of table time over the coming years. It occupies a space in my collection that very few games do, a genuinely engaging gateway game that children actually want to play because the theme captures their imagination before the mechanics ever have a chance to, and strictly speaking, need to.

I don’t think First Giants will become the next great strategy classic. I don’t think it was ever trying to.

What it is is a beautifully produced, thoughtfully designed family game that understands its audience perfectly.

Components

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros: Great chunky components that feel and look fantastic on the table.  Great rules reference.

Cons: As a family game, a bigger, more deluxe production would have been worth the investment.

First Giants comes in a surprisingly compact box packed primarily with cards, alongside a handful of chunky cardboard components used to track your expeditions and construct your museum displays and various tokens.

Everything that is in the box is exceptionally well-made.

There is a silly amount of “stuff” in this small box, but the production quality is top-notch. No expense was spared, and the entire thing looks amazing on the table. Everything you want out of a good family game.

The cards are beautifully illustrated, the cardboard is thick and durable, and everything is uniformly designed with purpose. Throughout the production, there’s a consistent feeling that the designers expected this game to spend most of its life on family tables rather than sitting shrink-wrapped on a collector’s shelf.

One detail I particularly appreciated is that almost everything is just a little larger than it strictly needs to be. The components are easy to pick up, easy to read across the table, and sturdy enough to survive the sort of enthusiastic handling children are famous for. Anyone who has introduced board games to younger players knows exactly what I’m talking about. Components aren’t just played with, they’re squeezed, bent, stacked into towers, and occasionally inspected with fingers orange from cheese snacks.

First Giants feels built for that reality.

If I have one criticism, it’s almost an odd one. Part of me wishes there were a deluxe edition.

Not because the game needs more components mechanically, but because kids are naturally drawn to spectacle. A giant box filled with oversized dinosaur meeples, plastic fossils, excavation trays, or elaborate museum pieces would have absolutely no impact on the gameplay… but it would have an enormous impact on getting younglings excited before the first card is even dealt.

Sometimes, presentation is a key part of the experience, and in the case of First Giants, I think it’s doubly so.

Even without that hypothetical deluxe treatment, though, First Giants is an excellent production. The artwork is gorgeous, the components feel fantastic in the hand, and everything has clearly been designed with durability in mind.

Given its target audience, I honestly can’t think of much more I could ask for.

Theme

Score: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_starchristmas_star

Pros:  As a family game, the dinosaur theme is a homerun.  Beautiful art, appealing aesthetic, sells the entire thing long before any rules come out.

Cons: I have never met anyone who doesn’t like dinosaurs.

The choice of theme for First Giants is about as close to perfect as you could hope for. In fact, I’m not convinced the game would have had anywhere near the same appeal had the designers chosen almost anything else.

Dinosaurs sell.

Kids are fascinated by them, adults are fascinated by them, and there’s something universally appealing about uncovering creatures that ruled the Earth millions of years ago. The theme immediately sparks curiosity before a single rule has been explained, and that’s a tremendous advantage for a family game.

Better still, the mechanics support that theme remarkably well.

The theme in First Giants sticks the landing exceptionally. You can explain the game in thematic terms while explaining the rules, without it feeling like a stretch. It all just clicks.

Your little wooden explorers travel to excavation sites, uncover fossils, add those discoveries to your collection, and eventually transform them into museum displays. Every step of the gameplay reinforces the narrative of building your own natural history museum, and because the actions are so intuitive, teaching the game becomes surprisingly effortless.

That last point is more important than it might sound.

When introducing kids to board games, explaining mechanics in purely mechanical terms is often a losing battle. Telling a child they need to “optimize their tableau” or “manage their engine” is a great way to watch their eyes glaze over.

Tell them they’re archaeologists searching for dinosaur fossils to display in their very own museum, and everything falls into place for them.

Everything on the table has an obvious purpose. There are excavation sites to explore, fossils to discover, a museum to fill, and prehistoric giants waiting to become the centerpiece of the next exhibit. The rules almost explain themselves because every action naturally follows the story the game is telling.

The artwork deserves special recognition here. Quite simply, it’s gorgeous.

The soft watercolor illustrations give every dinosaur an almost storybook quality that immediately captures attention. Before long, players stop asking which card is worth the most points and start asking, “Can I have the Triceratops?” or “Look at this one!”

That’s exactly what you want.

The artwork transforms the cards from game pieces into discoveries, and for younger players, that’s an important distinction. They’re no longer collecting points.

They’re collecting dinosaurs.

That’s a subtle difference, but it’s one that First Giants understands perfectly.

For a family game, I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better thematic execution. The theme is engaging, the mechanics reinforce it at every opportunity, and the artwork does the rest. It’s a wonderful example of a game where every design decision pulls in the same direction, making the whole experience feel natural, intuitive, and just a little bit magical.

I can imagine, however, that for more serious gamers looking for a strategic experience, this probably won’t quite do the trick. Sure, dinosaurs are cool, but for most seasoned gamers, collecting dinosaurs because dinosaurs are cool is going to be insufficient for a sales pitch.

Gameplay

Score: christmas_starchristmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: Simple rules that are easy to teach and learn make it ideal as a casual, kid-friendly family game.

Cons: There is just insufficient strategic depth or variability to hold your typical board game enthusiast’s interest.

When it comes to playing First Giants with children, I’ll say it plainly. This is a wonderful game.

Collecting dinosaur fossils, building museum exhibits, and scoring points is already more than enough to keep younger players engaged. Better yet, the game is simple enough that the rules disappear into the background, allowing children to focus on what they’re actually doing rather than how they’re doing it. Judged as a family game, First Giants delivers exactly what it promises.

Viewed through that lens, I’d happily give the gameplay five stars.

Let’s put on the seasoned gamer’s hat for a minute.

While I genuinely love the presentation, the production, and the overall concept, mechanically First Giants never really develops beyond its opening act.

That isn’t because the game is simple.

Simple games can still possess incredible strategic depth. Ticket to Ride, Small World, and Wingspan are all relatively accessible games, yet they reward repeated plays because players gradually discover richer decision spaces, stronger combinations, and increasingly subtle strategies.

First Giants never really gets there.

It’s not really a flaw in the game that the gameplay is ultra simplistic, lacking meaningful depth, as these things add complexity, and you don’t want that here. This is a family game, that’s where it lives for better or worse.

Most dinosaur cards either provide an immediate one-time effect or a passive ability that only rarely and mostly unreliably triggers while the card remains in your tableau. The problem is that there’s very little incentive to keep those cards around. Once they’ve provided their play value, you’re almost always better off converting them into museum displays and scoring the points at the first opportunity.

There simply isn’t enough engine building, if there is any at all, to create interesting long-term decisions.

Likewise, the museum objectives remain extremely straightforward and the same each game. You’re either collecting dinosaurs of the same species across multiple colors, or assembling sequential dinosaurs within a single color. On top of that, players receive bonus points for constructing the largest museum exhibit in each color.

That’s the puzzle. And unfortunately, it doesn’t evolve beyond that.

Because the objectives never change from game to game, the decision space quickly becomes fairly obvious. You draft the cards that best fit your current collection, trigger any useful abilities along the way, and convert them into points as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

There are certainly decisions to make.

Some cards work better together than others, timing matters, and paying attention to what your opponents are collecting is worthwhile.

But the strategy rarely feels particularly surprising or interesting.

There aren’t many moments where a clever engine suddenly comes online, an unusual strategy emerges, or a risky long-term investment pays off spectacularly. Most of the “correct” plays reveal themselves fairly quickly, and once you’ve understood the scoring system, subsequent games tend to follow the same patterns.

Perhaps the biggest limiting factor is how dependent the game becomes on the card market. Since you have very little control over which dinosaurs appear and player order determines who gets first choice, success often comes down to whether the right fossils become available at the right moment. You can certainly make mistakes, but the optimal decisions are usually quite obvious once the available cards are revealed.

For experienced gamers, that means repeated plays don’t uncover much hidden depth. The puzzle remains largely the same.

That’s perfectly acceptable for the audience First Giants is trying to reach. In fact, constantly introducing new systems or complicated strategies would probably work against its greatest strength as an approachable family game.

For hobby gamers, however, I think the experience is a different story.

Even as a filler, First Giants is probably too lightweight to keep seasoned players engaged for very long. It’s enjoyable, charming, and beautifully presented, but mechanically it never asks enough of its audience to remain interesting over repeated plays.

And that’s perfectly okay. Not every game needs to be designed for veteran gamers.

Sometimes the best family games are the ones that know exactly where to stop before complexity begins getting in the way of fun. First Giants understands that balance exceptionally well, even if it means veteran gamers will likely move on after a play or two.

Replayability and Longevity

Score: christmas_star
Tilt: christmas_star

Pros: As a family game, the theme will keep this one alive for a lot longer than the mechanics.

Cons:  Once you have played this game once, you have seen all there is to meaningfully see in this mechanic.

Replayability is one of those categories where the target audience matters more than almost any other.

When it comes to younger players, replayability is rarely driven by mechanical depth. It’s driven by emotional attachment. Children don’t ask whether the decision matrix has enough strategic variance or whether the scoring objectives are sufficiently dynamic. They ask whether they get to collect dinosaurs again.

First Giants absolutely delivers on that front.

The theme, artwork, and tactile components are engaging enough that I can easily see families returning to this game again and again. Children love repetition, particularly when they’re still discovering the world the game presents. I certainly don’t imagine many complaints from the younger audience this game was designed for.

Veteran gamers, however, are a different story.

For experienced players, I think First Giants probably has one or two really enjoyable plays before most of what it has to offer has been explored.

The first reason is that the game’s objectives never change. Every play uses the same museum collections, the same scoring conditions, and ultimately asks players to solve the same puzzle. Once you’ve identified the optimal ways to pursue those objectives, subsequent games feel very familiar.

The second issue is the card deck itself.

Every card is included in every game, and because cards are never permanently removed from play, it’s relatively easy to keep track of what remains in the deck. You may not see every dinosaur every game, but you quickly learn which collections are still viable and which ones can safely be abandoned. The uncertainty gradually disappears, taking some of the excitement with it.

For seasoned gamers, that’s probably the game’s greatest weakness.

There simply aren’t enough moving parts to make repeated plays feel substantially different. There are no variable objectives, no modular setup, no alternative strategies waiting to be discovered after your fifth or sixth play. Once you’ve experienced the game once or twice, you’ve largely experienced everything it has to offer mechanically.

The lack of diversity in the victory objectives means the game will get very repetitive and predictable. I think even for a family game, once the theme runs out of steam, this might be insufficient replayability long term. A good expansion with variations on the victory objectives could fix this.

That sounds harsher than I actually intend. Because I don’t think First Giants was ever designed to become someone’s forever game.

It was designed to be a family’s dinosaur game. Those are two very different goals.

As a gateway game for children and casual families, I think it will enjoy a long life simply because the theme continues to capture imaginations long after the mechanics have become familiar. For hobby gamers chasing the next endlessly replayable strategy game, however, I suspect First Giants will quickly become a pleasant memory rather than a permanent fixture on the shelf.

Conclusion

First Giants fills a very specific role in my collection, and it’s a role that comes up far more often than you might expect.

At my house, it’s perfectly normal for nieces, nephews, and the neighborhood to come over and ask, “Can we play a board game?” When that happens, I don’t want to spend twenty minutes explaining rules or worrying that the game will be too complicated. I want something that’s easy to teach, immediately engaging, and capable of capturing their imagination.

A game about collecting dinosaurs does exactly that.

I also think First Giants makes an excellent gateway into modern board gaming. It introduces players to tableau building, resource conversion, and light engine-building concepts without ever overwhelming them. Those are mechanics they’ll encounter throughout the hobby, and First Giants teaches them in perhaps the gentlest way possible.

Those two qualities alone are enough to justify its place on my shelf.

If you’re a seasoned hobby gamer looking for your next strategic obsession, I suspect you’ll bounce off this one fairly quickly. The puzzle simply doesn’t evolve enough over repeated plays to keep veteran players engaged for the long haul.

I think that’s judging the game by the wrong standard, but it is a far more common standard in the hobby today.

If your collection already has plenty of heavy strategy games but lacks something you can confidently teach to children, families, or complete newcomers to the hobby, First Giants is an easy recommendation.

Big Board Gaming Weekend: 10th Anniversary

Summer can only mean one thing for my gaming group and I. It’s time for our annual board gaming weekend. Once a year, we escape to a sleepy little Swedish town called Hassela for four glorious days dedicated to BBQ, beer, and an unreasonable amount of board games. Over the years, it’s become far more than just another gaming event for us. It’s a tradition, a reunion, and the one weekend of the year where the only schedule that really matters is deciding what game hits the table next, and other critical decisions like whether to drink another beer or two more beers. It’s fucking glorious!

This year, one of the guys built a disc golf course around the property. I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but the entire crew is big into disc golf, so between games we were throwing plastic. It was the first time we did this during Hassela weekend, but I suspect a new tradition has been born. There is no such thing as too much disc golf!

This year, however, carried a little extra significance as we celebrated the 10th consecutive year of this tradition. Reaching that milestone felt worth acknowledging, even if the core formula remained largely unchanged year after year. There was a slight sparkle of nostalgia to the whole weekend.

As always, I’ll be taking you through every game we played, in the exact order they hit the table. We are going to talk about some old favorites that never disappoint, some new exciting discoveries, and a few weak links that even a great gaming weekend couldn’t salvage.

So pour yourself a drink, settle into your favorite chair, and enjoy the list.

Feast of Odin (BBG Rank 27)

Dare I say it, but right out of the gate, I think this one was the highlight of the weekend for me. I really like this one a great deal, fantastic discovery, awesome game!

We kicked off the weekend with Feast for Odin, a Viking-themed worker placement game that most people would comfortably place in the heavier end of the hobby. Whether game complexity can really be measured on a single scale is another discussion entirely, but let’s just say this isn’t the game you introduce to someone whose previous gaming experience begins and ends with Monopoly.

This is one I’ve had my eye on for years. Ever since its release, I’ve heard people sing its praises, yet somehow I’d never managed to get it to the table. Since we only had four players for our opening game, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to finally discover what all the fuss was about. It would turn out to be a great way to kick off the weekend.

One thing became clear almost immediately: Feast for Odin isn’t your typical worker placement game. In fact, I’d argue that the worker placement mechanism isn’t really the star of the show. Instead, it’s the engine that drives an intricate puzzle made up of resource management, economic planning, and a wonderfully addictive tableau-building system that often feels more like a game of Tetris than a traditional Euro.

There’s certainly no shortage of things to think about. Our rules explanation took the better part of thirty minutes, yet I was surprised by how naturally the game flowed once we got started. Veteran Euro gamers, in particular, should find the core gameplay remarkably intuitive despite the intimidating amount of cardboard spread across the table.

The turn structure itself is refreshingly simple. Place your workers, perform the corresponding action, and continue building your strategy. The brilliance lies in the sheer number of available actions. The board is packed with options, each demanding different numbers of workers and presenting difficult decisions about efficiency, timing, and opportunity cost. That worker allocation quickly becomes a resource puzzle in its own right, and that’s before you even begin wrestling with your ever-growing collection of goods, upgrades, occupations, and that delightfully brain-burning polyomino board.

There is a lot going on in this game, so many options, so many decisions, and despite it all, the game felt tight and constrained. I always felt like there just weren’t enough moves, never enough resources, always so much more I wish I could do.

Feast for Odin really deserves a review of its own, because calling it “A great worker placement game” feels like doing it a disservice. Yes, many of its individual mechanics are familiar, but the way they’re woven together creates something that feels surprisingly fresh. It’s an ambitious design that never feels clever for the sake of being clever, this is just solid, well-organized, and well-tested gameplay.

Despite its intimidating table presence, I found it to be remarkably streamlined. It’s undeniably fiddly, with mountains of components constantly changing hands, but everything serves a purpose. The production is excellent, the artwork fits the theme perfectly, and the strategic depth was almost endless. I’d happily play this one again and can already see why it has remained a modern Euro classic for nearly a decade. It’s certainly not a game I’d recommend to casual gamers, but for anyone who enjoys deep strategic Euros, Feast for Odin absolutely lives up to its reputation. Judging by the smiles, thoughtful nods, and immediate post-game discussion around the table, I wasn’t the only one who walked away impressed.

Fantastic Game, it gets a gold star!

Fate: Defenders of Grimheim (BGG Rank 2199)

I have said it many times, and I guess I will say it again, I’m not a huge fan of cooperative games; I find them kind of dull in general. Fate is one of those rare exceptions.

Next up was Fate: Defenders of Grimheim, a cooperative tower defense game from FryxGames that I reviewed earlier this year, where it earned a very respectable 3.95 out of 5 stars. Seeing it languishing somewhere around the 2000 rank on BoardGameGeek genuinely baffles me. Cooperative games are more popular than ever, and this little gem seems to have slipped almost completely under the radar. That’s even more surprising when you remember it’s published by the same people who gave us the amazing Terraforming Mars. Apparently, not every Viking gets invited to Valhalla.

To me, Fate is as much an activity as it is a game. It’s the sort of title you can throw onto the table without anyone sighing as a three-foot-long rulebook appears. Within minutes, you’re rolling dice, defending the village, and wondering how everything has already gone horribly wrong.

What I enjoy most is where it fits in a gaming weekend like this one. After spending several hours calculating twelve turns into the future in a heavy Euro, sometimes your brain simply files for bankruptcy. That’s where Fate shines. It’s engaging without being exhausting, challenging without being punishing, and quick enough that nobody starts checking the clock halfway through.

Don’t mistake its accessibility for simplicity, though. Fate has a nasty habit of lulling you into a false sense of security before unleashing wave after wave of increasingly unpleasant monsters. Just when you think you’ve stabilized the board, Grimheim politely reminds you that it has absolutely no interest in your plans. It’s the board game equivalent of finally plugging one leak in a boat only to discover three more.

The artwork is gorgeous, the turns fly by at a brisk pace, and the constant pressure keeps everyone involved from beginning to end. If you’re looking for a cooperative game that actually puts up a fight instead of holding your hand to victory, Fate is well worth your time.

A fantastic game, and one I continue to think deserves far more attention than it’s currently getting.

Suhi Go (BBG Rank 662)

Making its first appearance at one of our Hassela weekends was Sushi Go, a game that has quietly become something of a modern classic in the filler category. If I had to compare it to anything, I’d call it the hobby equivalent of UNO. The difference, of course, is that it doesn’t suck.

At its heart, Sushi Go is an incredibly simple drafting and collection game. You pick a card, pass your hand, repeat, and somehow those few simple decisions become surprisingly engaging. Better yet, it introduces players to one of the hobby’s most fundamental mechanics: drafting. If you’re planning on exploring modern board games, you’ll encounter this mechanism over and over again, and Sushi Go is probably one of the gentlest introductions you could ask for.

I’ll admit that I don’t spend much time reviewing fillers. Most of them do exactly what they’re supposed to do, entertain for fifteen minutes before making way for the next big game. They’re the opening act, not the headliner.

That said, I firmly believe every collection needs games like this. If your goal is to introduce new people to the hobby, you don’t start by dropping Twilight Imperium on the table and casually mentioning that setup is only forty-five minutes. You start with games like Sushi Go, it’s that first taste to get them started. They’re approachable, charming, easy to teach, and most importantly, they leave people wanting to play another game rather than making excuses to go home.

If I ever write a “Ten Games Every Collection Should Own” article, I have a feeling Sushi Go will be somewhere on that list. Not because it’s the deepest or most innovative game ever made, but because it does exactly what it sets out to do with remarkable efficiency. Sometimes that’s all a game needs to be.

Star Wars Bounty Hunters (BGG Rank 5315)

It was ok.

Next up was Star Wars: Bounty Hunters, a lightweight card game built around collecting bounty hunters, hunting down targets, and completing contracts for points. Mechanically, it’s all about assembling the right combinations of cards. The elevator pitch, however, is considerably shorter: “It’s Star Wars.” And… well, that’s about all it has going for it.

And to be fair, that does a lot of the heavy lifting. The artwork is excellent, the production is solid, and if seeing Boba Fett, Bossk, Cad Bane, and friends spread across the table makes you smile, the game scores a few easy points before you’ve even shuffled the deck.

Unfortunately, once the game actually begins, things become a little… quiet.

My biggest criticism is the almost complete lack of player interaction. Everyone is essentially sitting at the table solving their own little optimization puzzle, occasionally glancing up just long enough to confirm that yes, it is now their turn. It’s less “bounty hunters competing across the galaxy” and more “four people politely doing paperwork together.”

That’s a real problem for a filler game in my opinion.

To me, fillers have a very specific purpose. They’re there to break the ice, reset everyone’s brain after a heavier game, or introduce new players to the hobby. They’re supposed to generate conversation, laughter, dramatic groans when someone steals your card, and the occasional “Oh, come on!” from across the table. They’re social lubricants disguised as games.

Star Wars: Bounty Hunters doesn’t really do any of that.

Instead, it feels like four people independently playing solitaire while occupying the same table. And if I’m going to play solitaire, I’d at least like the courtesy of not having to wait for everyone else’s turn.

It’s not a bad game. It’s perfectly competent.

It’s just… there.

Epochs: Course Of Cultures (BBG Rank 5178)

Epochs: Course of Cultures was another game I reviewed earlier this year, earning a respectable 3.6 out of 5 stars. Despite what I’m about to say, I genuinely think it’s a very good game and one I’m always happy to see hit the table.

My biggest issue with Epochs isn’t really the game itself. It’s the expectations it creates.

At first glance, everything about it screams “civilization builder.” You’ve got technologies, expansion, a map, different cultures, and the familiar journey through history. Naturally, I went in expecting something that would scratch the same itch as Civilization, Through the Ages, or any number of empire-building classics.

It doesn’t.

Not because it’s a bad game, but because beneath the historical artwork and civilization theme lies a very elegant Euro resource management game wearing a Civilization costume. It’s like turning up to what you thought was a Viking reenactment only to discover it’s actually an accounting seminar. A very well-run accounting seminar… but still.

Mechanically, the game is excellent. Resources are tight, every decision matters, and there’s a constant balancing act between short-term efficiency and long-term scoring opportunities. It’s exactly the sort of puzzle Euro fans love to sink their teeth into.

Where it falls short for me is in creating the illusion that I’m actually guiding a civilization through history.

Take technology, for example. In many civilization games, researching a new technology feels like making an important strategic decision. Do you pursue military dominance? Scientific advancement? Economic superiority? Those choices shape your civilization’s identity.

In Epochs, technology is largely another cog in the resource engine. You’ll draw a card, play it, gain some resources or a useful ability, and continue optimizing your point-generating machine. Mechanically, it works beautifully. Thematically, it rarely feels like your civilization has just invented writing, discovered gunpowder, or unlocked electricity. It feels more like you’ve collected another efficient converter.

That’s really my criticism in a nutshell. The game is so heavily abstracted that the historical theme sometimes feels like wallpaper. Attractive wallpaper, certainly, but wallpaper nonetheless.

Ironically, I think that’s also one of the game’s greatest strengths. By stripping away much of the thematic overhead, the designers created a remarkably streamlined strategy game that moves at an impressive pace. There are very few wasted turns, plenty of meaningful decisions, and enough strategic depth to keep experienced Euro gamers thoroughly engaged.

So no, Epochs doesn’t satisfy my craving for an epic civilization experience. When I want to watch an empire rise from mud huts to moon landings, I’ll probably reach for something else.

But when I’m in the mood for a clever, highly competitive resource management game with a civilization theme draped over it like a very convincing Halloween costume?

Epochs is an excellent choice because it’s an excellent game.

Battle For Rokugan (BBG Rank 981)

It’s a fine mechanic and cool, condensed war game, but I think veteran gamers who have been around the block once or twice will probably find it a bit random. There is just too little control in the game for it to fall into the category of “strategic”. There is no dice, yet it manages to be chaotic just the same.

Battle for Rokugan has made several appearances at our Hassela weekends over the years, but this time it landed with something of a thud.

Part of that is simply the nature of war games. They’re a very particular breed of board game, and they tend to shine only when everyone at the table is in the mood to bluff, threaten, negotiate, and occasionally stab one another in the back. If half the table is looking for a relaxed evening, a war game can feel like showing up to a pillow fight wearing full plate armor.

That said, I think the bigger issue this time was Battle for Rokugan itself.

The core idea is fantastic. Each player secretly draws six command tokens representing attacks, defenses, raids, diplomacy, and various special actions. Those tokens are placed face down across the map, creating a tense battlefield where nobody quite knows what anyone else is planning.

In theory, that’s brilliant.

In practice, it often feels like everyone is making wildly confident tactical decisions based on almost no useful information whatsoever.

You’re being attacked from three directions. You’re launching attacks of your own. Someone has fortified a province. Someone else has placed a diplomacy token. Somewhere on the map lurks a devastating bluff… or maybe it’s absolutely nothing.

The problem is that you rarely have enough information to make what I’d call genuinely informed decisions. You don’t know how strong an attack is, where the real threats lie, or whether you’re walking straight into disaster. There are a handful of ways to gather intelligence, but for most of the game you’re essentially fighting a war while wearing a blindfold and hoping your instincts are better than everyone else’s.

Now, there’s certainly a place for uncertainty in war games. Hidden information creates tension, and tension creates memorable moments. But Battle for Rokugan sometimes crosses the line where uncertainty starts feeling less like clever bluffing and more like educated guesswork.

It’s impossible not to compare it to Game of Thrones: The Board Game, which clearly served as one of its inspirations. There, the hidden information lies primarily in the orders players assign to their armies. The armies themselves are visible, their strengths are known, alliances can be inferred, and experienced players can often piece together what their opponents are trying to accomplish.

Battle for Rokugan hides almost everything.

As a result, many of your decisions feel reactive rather than tactical. Instead of outsmarting your opponents, you’re often hoping your hidden token happens to be better than theirs.

What’s interesting is that I probably wouldn’t have written this a few years ago. In fact, Battle for Rokugan actually appeared on my Top 10 War Games list back in 2020. Since then I’ve played a lot more war games, and I think my expectations for the genre have changed. If I were rewriting that list today, I’m not convinced Battle for Rokugan would survive the cut.

That’s not to say it’s a bad game.

Quite the opposite, really.

It’s fast, incredibly easy to teach, has virtually no rules overhead, and manages to deliver a condensed war game experience in under an hour without rolling a single die. That’s an impressive achievement, and it’s exactly why I still think it deserves a place in my collection.

If someone asked me to introduce them to area-control games, I’d happily pull Battle for Rokugan off the shelf.

If they asked me to play Risk instead…

…I’d mysteriously remember that I have somewhere else to be.

Battle for Rokugan may no longer be one of my favorite war games, but it’s still a perfectly respectable gateway into the genre, and for that alone, it’s worth keeping around.

Broom Service (BBG Rank 671)

This 2015 Kennerspiel des Jahres winner has comfortably earned its place in my collection over the years, and judging by the reactions around the table, it made a pretty good impression on the rest of the crew as well.

At its heart, Broom Service is a wonderfully streamlined game about flying witches around a colorful fantasy landscape, delivering potions for victory points. The strategic objective couldn’t be simpler. You can usually identify exactly where you want to go, what potions you need, and which routes will get you there most efficiently.

Actually getting there, however, is where things get interesting.

Every round, you select just four cards from a deck of ten, each representing a different character with a unique ability. Whenever one of those characters is played, every player holding the same card must also play it and must also decide whether to play it as Brave or Cowardly.

Being Brave gives you the powerful version of the action, unless someone after you in turn order is also feeling brave. In that case, they steal your action, and you get nothing, and your fearless witch suddenly looks considerably less heroic.

Choosing the Cowardly action guarantees you’ll get to do something, but it’s a much weaker and less efficient version of the effect. A Mountain Witch, for example, can both move and deliver a potion when she’s feeling brave, but if she’s cowardly, she’ll merely shuffle up the mountain and call it good enough.

It’s such a brilliantly simple mechanism because every decision becomes a psychological game. Do you risk the stronger action, hoping nobody else has the same card? Or do you play it safe and settle for the weaker effect?

Better yet, every card played forces every other player holding that card to reveal their intentions immediately, so the round develops into this wonderfully tense sequence of deductions, educated guesses, and the occasional spectacular act of overconfidence, while at the same time may completely break the sequence of players intended for their cards.

There’s an amusing tension around turn order. Going first lets you dictate the flow of the round and which cards will be played first, but it also paints a giant target on your back. The earlier you declare a Brave action, the more players there are who can gleefully ruin your day.

It’s one of those mechanics that’s incredibly elegant because it creates constant interaction and tension without adding complexity. Every turn keeps everyone engaged, and there’s always a reason to pay attention to what everyone else is doing.

I’ve loved Broom Service ever since I first played it; its accolades are well deserved. It’s not really a heavy gamer’s game, and it isn’t trying to be. It sits comfortably in that sweet spot between family game and gateway Euro, where the rules are simple enough for almost anyone to learn, yet the decisions are interesting enough that experienced gamers still have a great time.

It’s quick, easy to teach, delightfully interactive, and just plain fun.

If you’ve got a family that enjoys board games, or you’re looking for a game that can bridge the gap between casual players and hobby gamers, Broom Service remains an easy recommendation.

Bang The Dice Game (BBG Rank 889)

Bang! The Dice Game is more than just another filler in our collection. At this point, it’s practically a Hassela tradition. Every year it finds its way onto the table, and every year it delivers exactly what it’s supposed to.

That’s because Bang! isn’t really about the mechanics.

In fact, if someone asked me to recommend the very best social deduction game on the market, Bang! There would be a long list that didn’t include Bang!. There are games that are deeper, cleverer, and mechanically more refined.

But very few create an atmosphere quite like this one.

Within minutes, accusations are flying across the table, alliances are being forged and immediately broken, and someone is loudly insisting they’re “obviously the Deputy” despite having just emptied a revolver into the Sheriff. It’s complete nonsense… and it’s glorious.

That’s exactly what I want from a filler game.

I don’t necessarily want a brilliant strategic masterpiece between heavier games. I want something that wakes everyone up, gets people talking, generates a few memorable moments, and leaves the table laughing before we move on to the next big event. Bang! nails that job like a pro.

The premise couldn’t be simpler. Everyone is secretly assigned a role. The Sheriff and Deputies are trying to bring law to the Wild West. The Outlaws are trying to gun down the Sheriff. The Renegade is… well… complicated. They ultimately want the Sheriff dead too, but only after everyone else has been dealt with. It’s the sort of life plan that requires impeccable timing.

The Sheriff is the only player whose identity is public. Everyone else spends the early game trying to work out who they can trust, all while desperately trying not to reveal their own allegiance too early.

Gameplay itself is driven by Yahtzee-style dice rolling. You’ll be shooting other players, healing yourself, collecting Indian arrows that inevitably come back to haunt everyone, and occasionally unleashing the infamous Gatling Gun, which has all the subtlety of solving an argument with a flamethrower.

The beauty of the game is that nobody really knows who they’re supposed to be shooting at during those opening rounds.

Was that attack an honest mistake? Is your neighbor secretly an Outlaw?

Did your teammate just accidentally shoot you… or was that “accidentally” doing a lot of heavy lifting?

Eventually, the masks come off, bullets start flying in earnest, and someone inevitably realizes they’ve spent the last three rounds enthusiastically helping the wrong team.

It’s stupid, silly fun.

Cut Throat Caverns (BBG Rank 2468)

It’s a fun game for the first four or five monsters, but it just drags on a bit too long.

Cutthroat Caverns holds a special place in Hassela history. It wasn’t just one of the games we played at our very first gaming weekend ten years ago… It was the first game.

So bringing it back for our tenth anniversary felt strangely appropriate. There was a healthy dose of nostalgia around the table, mixed with the realization that most of us could barely remember how to play it. It had been so long that the opening turns almost felt like discovering the game all over again.

Then the backstabbing started.

The premise is absolutely brilliant and feels tailor-made for a group of old RPG nerds. You play a band of adventurers descending into a dungeon to defeat a series of terrifying monsters. Sounds heroic enough.

Except everyone secretly wants to be the hero.

You earn prestige by landing the killing blow on each monster, so while everyone needs to cooperate to survive, everyone also wants everyone else to do just enough work that they can swoop in at the last second, dramatically stab the beast through the eye, and loudly declare, “You’re welcome.”

It’s wonderfully evil. The game constantly asks one simple question:

“How helpful can I afford to be?”

Help too much and someone else steals all the glory. Sabotage your companions too aggressively and suddenly, nobody is strong enough to kill the monster. Congratulations. Your selfishness has successfully doomed the entire party.

It’s probably the most accurate simulation of a dysfunctional Dungeons & Dragons party I’ve ever played.

That push-and-pull creates some genuinely hilarious moments. Temporary alliances form and collapse within minutes, players quietly count damage around the table trying to engineer the perfect finishing blow, and everyone becomes just a little bit suspicious whenever someone claims they’re “only trying to help.”

Conceptually, I still think it’s fantastic. Unfortunately, there’s two glaring problems that are impossible to ignore.

For one, the game simply goes on for too long.

The first few encounters are excellent. Everyone is learning the monsters, testing the waters, and gleefully sabotaging one another. The tension is high, the jokes are flowing, and every fight feels different.

By the seventh, eighth, and ninth monster, however, the magic starts to wear off. The core joke has already landed…Several times.

What should feel like an epic final showdown instead becomes a finish line everyone is quietly hoping to reach quicker. That’s never where you want a game to end.

It’s a shame because the underlying design is genuinely clever. Trim the experience down to four or five encounters and I honestly think this could have been a cult classic.

The problem is that the balancing is such that the monsters are not really a huge danger; you really need a lot of encounters and several intentional failures to kill the monsters that wear down the party for there to be any real threat of getting knocked out of the game, and that aspect of balancing can and does extend the game even longer.

For example, in our game, I could have continually sabotaged a specific player who was ahead, but it would have added half a dozen rounds to the game for that strategy to be successful enough to take them out, and honestly, I just let them win to avoid having to play that many more rounds. It was already taking forever.

As it stands, I’m really glad we dusted it off for the tenth anniversary. Revisiting old favorites is part of what Hassela is all about.

That said…

…I think I’ve had my nostalgia fix for another decade.

Smartphone(BBG Rank 450)

I’ve never reviewed it, but I suspect it would rate very high. Absolutetly brilliant.

Despite sitting comfortably inside the top 500 on BoardGameGeek, Smartphone Inc. remains, in my opinion, one of the most criminally underrated board games ever made. It’s one of the most elegant, innovative, and brilliantly designed Euros I’ve ever played, and it has never failed to impress every time it’s hit the table.

In fact, I genuinely believe that if more people actually played it, Smartphone Inc. would be a serious contender for the Top 50 on BoardGameGeek. Maybe even the Top 10. I’m completely convinced of it.

So why isn’t it?

My best guess is the theme… and that wonderfully questionable box cover featuring a bearded hipster who looks like he’s about to pitch me his latest cryptocurrency startup. It’s hardly the kind of artwork that screams, “One of the best economic strategy games you’ll ever play.”

Which is a shame. Because underneath that slightly uninspiring cover is an absolute masterpiece.

Smartphone Inc. is an economic game about developing, manufacturing, marketing, and selling mobile phones across competing global markets. On paper, that sounds about as exciting as reading a quarterly shareholder report. Yet, despite that depiction, I think it’s phenomenal.

Every round is packed with agonizing decisions. Every choice matters. Every market feels fiercely contested. The game strips away almost all unnecessary complexity, leaving behind an incredibly clean and focused economic puzzle where every action has meaningful consequences.

Whenever someone asks me for a Euro recommendation, Smartphone Inc. is almost always the first title that comes to mind. It’s become something of my hobby’s best-kept secret, a hidden gem that somehow slipped past far more people than it ever deserved to.

What makes it even more impressive is how approachable it is.

Smartphone delivers the satisfaction and strategic depth of games like Brass: Birmingham or Ark Nova, but without asking you to dedicate an entire afternoon. The rules are surprisingly straightforward, the gameplay flows effortlessly, and the advertised playtime is one of the rare occasions where the box isn’t lying to you. Even with five players, you’re looking at roughly ninety minutes from setup to final scoring.

In today’s world of sprawling three-four and even five hour Euros, that’s almost refreshing.

The game is polished to an almost absurd degree. Every mechanism feels refined, every system feeds naturally into the next, and there’s barely an ounce of wasted design anywhere in the box.

That said, I do think there’s one caveat. You really want five players.

I’ve played Smartphone with three and four players plenty of times, and it’s still a very good game. But add that fifth player and something magical happens.

Suddenly, every market becomes fiercely contested. Every pricing decision is absolutely game-defining. Every expansion plan collides with someone else’s ambitions. Instead of executing your own strategy in relative peace, you’re constantly adapting to the decisions of two or three opponents trying to accomplish exactly the same thing.

The competition becomes ruthless.

There are no comfortable engines quietly humming along in the corner. No one gets left alone for very long. Every victory feels earned because every point has been fought over.

To me, Smartphone at five players isn’t just better than Smartphone at three or four. It’s an entirely different experience.

If there’s one game from this entire Hassela weekend that I’d love to see receive the recognition it deserves, it’s this one. Smartphone Inc. isn’t simply underrated.

It’s one of the hobby’s great hidden treasures.

And if you consider yourself a Euro gamer and haven’t played it yet, I’d go as far as saying you’re missing out on one of the best designs of the last decade.

Epic Spell Wars of the Battle Wizards: Duel at Mt. Skullzfyre (BBG Rank 2663)

Some games are best thought of as activities rather than games in the traditional sense. Epic Spell Wars of the Battle Wizards firmly belongs in that category.

I’m not even entirely convinced it’s a strategy game. At least not if your definition of strategy involves carefully planning your moves and consistently making better decisions than your opponents. Epic Spell Wars is a spectacular collision of outrageous card combinations, take-that mechanics, and just enough randomness to ensure that even the best-laid plans can explode in your face without warning. It’s less about executing a strategy and more about embracing the chaos.

The premise is wonderfully absurd. Each player is a battle wizard constructing increasingly ridiculous spells by combining different cards in an attempt to obliterate everyone else around the table. The goal is simple: be the last wizard standing. How you get there is another matter entirely, because the game delights in throwing unexpected twists, broken combinations, and moments of glorious misfortune at every player.

Mechanically, it’s perfectly serviceable, but that’s not why anyone remembers Epic Spell Wars. The real star of the show is its presentation. The artwork is absolutely phenomenal, genuinely some of the best gonzo comic-book-inspired illustration you’ll find in any board game. Every card is packed with personality, and the over-the-top spell names are worth reading aloud simply because they’re so wonderfully ridiculous. Half the entertainment comes from watching someone proudly announce the horrifying magical abomination they’ve just assembled.

That’s ultimately what makes the game work. Nobody sits down expecting a finely balanced strategic masterpiece. They sit down expecting complete nonsense, ridiculous moments, and plenty of laughter, and Epic Spell Wars delivers exactly that. It’s loud, juvenile, unapologetically silly, and knows precisely what it wants to be.

It’s the perfect game for a table full of friends, a few drinks, and a weekend where nobody has anywhere else they’d rather be.

Cascadia (BBG Rank 60)

When I saw Cascadia sitting at number 60 on BoardGameGeek, I genuinely did a double-take. Not because I think it’s a bad game, quite the opposite. Cascadia is a clever, elegant little design that I thoroughly enjoyed playing.

What surprised me is just how high it sits.

No matter how I look at it, I struggle to see this as one of the sixty greatest board games ever made. Personally, I would have expected it somewhere much further down the rankings. Not because it’s lacking in quality, but because it doesn’t really do anything particularly new or surprising, we are talking about a basic tile-laying game made in 2021.

Then again, BoardGameGeek rankings have always existed in their own strange little universe. We live in a world where Crokinole, a game designed in 1876 that essentially involves flicking wooden discs across a board, is ranked even higher. Clearly, trying to rationalize BGG rankings is a fool’s errand.

Cascadia is, at its heart, a very straightforward tile-laying game. You draft a terrain tile and an animal token, add them to your growing landscape, and score points by arranging everything as efficiently as possible. It’s clean, intuitive, and remarkably easy to teach, but that’s it, there is nothing else.

The thing is, almost every mechanic in the game feels immediately familiar. If you’ve played a reasonable number of modern board games, you can practically guess the rules just by looking at the board. There’s no flashy twist, no surprising hybrid mechanism, and no big “aha!” moment where the design suddenly reveals something you’ve never seen before.

That’s not necessarily a criticism. Sometimes executing familiar ideas exceptionally well is enough.

For me, though, Cascadia feels almost too streamlined. It’s like a worker placement game that consists entirely of placing workers, or a deck-building game where the only thing you ever do is buy better cards. Everything works exactly as intended, but I kept waiting for the game to reveal that extra layer, that little spark that would elevate it from “very good” to “something special.”

It never really arrived.

Ironically, I think the designers probably felt something similar, considering the number of expansions that have appeared since release. They all seem to add the sort of additional wrinkles I found myself looking for during the base game.

None of this is to say Cascadia isn’t a good game. It absolutely is.

In fact, I completely understand why it’s become such a hit. It’s approachable, relaxing, beautifully produced, and has that rare elegance where almost anyone can sit down and understand it within a few minutes.

Personally, though, if someone asked me to recommend a tile-laying game, Cascadia wouldn’t be my first choice. I’d happily point them toward Harmonies, for example, which I think delivers a more interesting puzzle and a more satisfying gameplay arc.

One thing I will say about Cascadia is that, like Sushi Go, it introduces a very basic principle of board gaming you are going to see in a lot of games (Tile Laying), so in that way, it makes for a pretty good introduction to board games.

Would I play Cascadia again? Absolutely.

Would I rank it among the sixty greatest board games ever made?

…that’s where you lose me.

Hansa Teutonica (BBG Rank 147)

On the drive home, one of my friends summed up Hansa Teutonica by calling it “clever, but boring.” I couldn’t help but laugh because, honestly, that’s probably how I’d describe most classic Euro games.

Excitement has never really been the selling point of games about medieval trade routes and little wooden cubes. If you’re looking for cinematic moments, dramatic storytelling, or thematic immersion, you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. What classic Euros offer instead is elegant design, fascinating decision spaces, and the satisfaction of solving an intricate strategic puzzle. They’re less about living a story and more about exploring a mechanical system, and that’s exactly what defines the genre. Rarely is a game you play once and discover something wonderful; Euro cube pushers demand repeat plays.

So yes, I actually think “clever but boring” is a perfectly fair description of Hansa Teutonica.

The theme is about as dry as board games get, and the gameplay loop can be summarized almost entirely as “put cubes on the board.”

Yet despite that, Hansa Teutonica still sits at number eleven on my own Top 20 Games list, and I’m more than happy to defend that position.

The reason is simple. It does something that surprisingly few Euro games are willing to do: it forces players into direct conflict.

Not the usual passive-aggressive Euro interaction where someone quietly steals the action space you wanted. Hansa Teutonica demands genuine competition. Every move has consequences, every route is contested, and every decision creates opportunities for someone else. You’re constantly manipulating the board while simultaneously manipulating your opponents.

The strategic depth is remarkable. Beneath the deceptively simple act of placing cubes lies an intricate web of efficiency puzzles, engine building, timing windows, and tactical positioning. Winning isn’t about discovering some hidden strategy. It’s about consistently finding the most efficient move, turn after turn after turn.

What makes repeated plays so rewarding is how dramatically the game changes depending on the experience level of the people around the table.

There simply isn’t enough room for everyone to pursue every strategy. You have to carve out your own niche while constantly reacting to everyone else’s plans. If your opponents ignore you for too long, you’ll quietly build an unstoppable engine. Conversely, if you can force someone to spend turns disrupting your position, you’ve often created opportunities elsewhere that benefit you even more.

That push and pull creates some wonderfully subtle mind games.

At one point during our game, I found myself getting genuinely annoyed by a move one of my friends made because it looked like he’d just handed another player a game-winning opportunity. From where I was sitting, he was king-making.

Only later did I realize what had actually happened. He wasn’t helping our opponent at all. He was baiting me. And it worked.

He knew I couldn’t ignore the move; it would have been insane for me to do so. He knew exactly how I’d respond, and by forcing me to deal with it, he’d quietly opened up the part of the board he really cared about. I walked straight into the trap, exactly as he’d planned.

I hate when people do that. I also absolutely love games that let them.

Those little traps, feints, and counterplays are where Hansa Teutonica really shines. The more experienced everyone at the table becomes, the richer those interactions get.

I’ll freely admit this isn’t a game for everyone. It’s dry, unapologetically abstract, and probably about as exciting to watch as an accounting convention.

But if you’re the sort of player who enjoys elegant systems, razor-sharp interaction, and the satisfaction of outthinking your opponents rather than out-rolling them, Hansa Teutonica remains one of the finest Euro games ever designed.

Ten years after I first played it, I still think it’s one of the best cube pushers the hobby has ever produced.

Condottiere (BGG Rank 1064)

Another permanent fixture of the Hassela weekend is the magnificent Condottiere, a game that is now thirty years old and has somehow refused to age. It’s one of those rare designs that feels just as fresh today as it did when it was released, and every time it hits the table I’m reminded why it’s remained in my collection for so long.

At first glance, Condottiere looks like a straightforward trick-taking card game with a simple area-control board tacked on. In reality, it’s the marriage of those two mechanics that makes the game so special.

The objective couldn’t be simpler. Win battles to place your cubes on the map, and be the first player to connect three adjacent territories to claim victory.

Easy. Except it isn’t.

Every battle is a miniature game of timing, bluffing, and resource management. Your hand of cards represents your army, but unlike most trick-taking games, winning every battle is often the fastest way to lose the war.

The reason is that your cards are a finite resource. The ten cards you receive may need to carry you through multiple battles, and new cards are only dealt when nobody is willing, or able, to continue fighting. Every powerful card you spend now is one you won’t have available when the battle that might actually matter begins.

That single design decision completely transforms the game.

Suddenly, every battle becomes a negotiation. Is this province worth fighting over? Can I bluff my opponents into spending valuable cards while I quietly pull my troops from the battlefield? Should I sacrifice this battle entirely in order to dominate the next one?

Those questions are where Condottiere truly shines.

Adding even more depth are the various special cards that manipulate combat strength, cancel effects, or completely change the state of the battlefield. It’s rarely enough to simply play your highest-valued card and hope for the best. Success comes from luring opponents into committing their resources before revealing the clever little trick you’ve been holding all along.

Meanwhile, the board itself slowly tightens like a noose.

Once a cube has been placed, it never leaves the map. Safe territories disappear, critical choke points emerge, and every remaining battle becomes increasingly important. By the late game, a single province can determine the winner, and everyone around the table knows it.

I’ve been singing the praises of Condottiere for years, and this latest playthrough did absolutely nothing to change my opinion.

It’s elegant, interactive, wonderfully tense, and proof that great design never goes out of style.

Quite simply, it’s one of the finest card games I’ve ever played, and if you’ve never experienced it, I think you’re missing one of the hobby’s true classics.

Blood Rage (BBG Rank 66)

Blood Rage occupies a unique place in the history of GamersDungeon. In well over a decade of reviewing board games, it remains the only game I’ve ever awarded a perfect 5 out of 5 stars. Ten years later, having played many games since that review, I wouldn’t change a single word.

It remains, in my opinion, one of the finest board games ever designed.

Everything about Blood Rage feels deliberate. The mechanics, the theme, the artwork, the miniatures, the pacing, the replayability, it all comes together with an elegance that’s incredibly rare. It’s one of those games where every system reinforces every other system, creating an experience that’s greater than the sum of its already impressive parts.

It’s also become something of a Hassela tradition. At this point, I’d be more surprised if Blood Rage didn’t make an appearance.

What I love most about the design is that it’s really three different games seamlessly woven together.

First, there’s the drafting phase, where players build their strategy by selecting cards that shape everything they’ll attempt during the coming Age. Every draft feels meaningful because you’re not only improving your own position, but you’re denying powerful combinations to your opponents.

Then comes the area control game. Clans spread across the map, battles erupt over provinces, monsters stomp into play, and everyone races to pillage the richest territories before Ragnarök inevitably wipes parts of the world from existence.

On paper, that’s already an excellent game. But the real game…

…is watching everyone else.

Blood Rage is one of the few area control games where paying attention to your opponents is more important than executing your own strategy. Every drafted card, every troop placement, every suspicious move tells a story about what someone is trying to accomplish, and there is far more to gain from denial than anything else. Success isn’t simply about building the strongest engine or winning the biggest battles. It’s about identifying everyone else’s plan and finding the perfect moment to dismantle it.

That’s where Blood Rage separates itself from the crowd. For all its brilliance, though, it isn’t a forgiving game.

There are very few safety nets here. No generous catch-up mechanisms. No rubber-banding. If you make poor decisions during the first Age, you’ll often spend the rest of the game trying to recover while stronger players steadily pull away. Blood Rage rewards good play and punishes mistakes with remarkable efficiency.

Personally, I love that. When I lose a game of Blood Rage, I almost always know why.

The good news is that despite offering all the depth of a sprawling area-control game, it remains remarkably quick. That advertised 60 to 90 minute playtime is refreshingly accurate, making it easy to get to the table far more often than many games in the genre.

It also scales beautifully, though I still think five players with the expansion is the definitive way to experience it. More players means more conflict, more competition, more spectacular betrayals, and more opportunities for those unforgettable moments that Blood Rage consistently delivers.

I’ve said it before, and another playthrough only reinforced the point.

Blood Rage isn’t my favorite area-control game, but there is no question it’s one of the finest board games ever made, and more than a decade later, I still haven’t played anything that has convinced me otherwise.

And that’s all, folks!

It was another amazing year, and sitting here writing about it reminds me of the tragedy of having this fantastic event behind me. I have to wait a year to do another one!

That doesn’t mean there won’t be BBQ’s, Beers and Boardgames between now and then, but the Hassela weekend is special, it’s unique, and as nerdy and as immature as it might sound, it’s very important. Traditions are one of the corner stones to a happy life, it gives you something to look forward too and I already can’t wait until next year!

Happy Gaming!

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!

Dedicated To All Things Gaming