A fun game with a terrible tagline.

From ancient times to the present day, women have never been recognised for their contributions to the world. Yet, throughout history, there have always been women who were strong leaders, who fought for better conditions and equal rights, and not just for themselves, who made significant scientific breakthroughs, were trendsetting artists and did everything their male contemporaries did. So it is time for all women around the world to say: We Can Play by Julia Johansson and Albert Pinilla by Julibert.

At some point, the idea of “designing” a game becomes impossibly pretentious. It’s a natural concept for gamers, but for everyone else, games aren’t designed. They just are. They exist in a space that must flow as naturally as possible. But gamers like to complicate everything, so we create games that are about little pieces of wood being turned other pieces of wood, which in turn are turned into victory points. And lest you think I’m picking only on the Eurogame set, Ameritrashers are just as guilty. I mean, how many phases does a turn need before we have too many? There’s nothing wrong with complex games, but we have a lot of them, and that complexity is almost entirely for its own sake. 

Let me set the scene for you. I have only been in the hobby a matter of months. I’ve cut my teeth on most of the important Eurogames of the day, methodically going through and marking games off the list as I finally experience them for myself. I’d done the “gateways” like The Settlers of Catan and Carcassonne. I’d hit some of the most important “heavier” games like Puerto Rico and El Grande. So when a friend invited me to play his copy of Tigris & Euphrates, I was excited. This was a classic from the great Reiner Knizia!

I’m sad to report that that particular session was a complete disaster. The game was boggling to me, going against numerous conventions I relied upon to make learning games easier. One player took forever on every turn. Another player seemed to be playing almost randomly. It took two-and-a-half hours, and the end was a merciful release, like finally being able to find a bathroom after a long car ride.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that bad gaming sessions are not always indicitive of bad games. For reasons that mostly involved being able to hang out with a girl I kind of liked (and eventually married), I agreed to sit as a fourth in another game of Tigris & Euphrates about six months later. And to my astonishment, I had a ball. Maybe it was the other players, maybe it was my one game of experience, maybe it was because my future wife was at the table. But regardless of the reason, I found myself enjoying the game, the opposite reaction to my first time playing.

Tigris & Euphrates is in a two-horse race with Ra for my favorite game by Reiner Knizia. Originally released in 1998, it was the first game in the unbelievable hot streak that Knizia would have for at least the next five years. That stretch included personal favorites like Battle Line, Ra, and Lord of the Rings, as well as award winners like Taj Mahal, Lost Cities, and Amun-Re. I don’t think any designer has ever had so much success in a span like that, and Tigris & Euphrates was the opening salvo.

You play a dynasty in ancient Mesopotamia. You have four leaders, each one representing a sphere of ruling. Your task is to place these leaders in different kingdoms on the board and collect cubes whenever someone adds a tile to that kingdom that matches your leader’s color. Ideally you will place tiles where your leaders can get cubes, but this becomes more complex as more leaders enter play. There can only be one leader of each color in a kingdom, so placing a same-colored leader in a kingdom triggers an internal conflict, from which only one can emerge. There can also be external conflicts when two kingdoms are joined by a tile, thus creating redundant leaders. Both kinds of conflicts are resolved differently, which makes for a somewhat steep learning curve. But the effect is striking. Each conflict can be a huge impact, forever changing the landscape of the board and throwing the pecking order of the players in disarray. At the end of the game, the player who has the most cube sets of all four colors wins the game.

It’s easy to see why I didn’t take to it right away. There are many mechanics that seem counter-intuitive to a neophyte gamer, like the lack of “territory” on the board and the strange way to win. The biggest one though is that it goes against the trained wisdom that the player is represented by a color. Oh, there are four colors, but they represent different aspects of Mesopotamian kingdoms. The player is represented by a little symbol. This is one of those little leaps that seems simple, but it’s surprisingly hard to unlearn to associate yourself with a color. Besides that, it’s difficult to figure out exactly what kind of game it is. Is it a tile-laying game? Yes, but it’s not as dry as I tend to find that genre. Is it a game of conquest? Well, you take things over from other players, but it’s hardly dudes-on-a-map. There’s even a sort of zoomed-out civilization game there, but it’s heavily abstracted. The only possible game that I could compare it to is the Sid Sackson classic, Acquire. Both games challenge the idea of ownership in a game, both have a heavy dose of luck in a tile draw, and both involve the merging and competition over a series of entities (hotel chains in Acquire, kingdoms in Tigris and Euphrates).

On a deeper level, both games know precisely how to utilize abstraction to create something unique. I’ve heard and read many complaints about the abstract nature of Tigris & Euphrates, and such complaints are not unfair. The four colors tie thematically to things like religion and trade, but in practice you only ever refer to them by their color. And the simple structure of a turn, where each player takes two actions and is done, means that the entire system is too streamlined to really invest too much into what’s happening. But at the macro level, I have found Tigris & Euphrates to be more thematic than advertised. The different colors actually DO stand out when you think about them. The farms (blue tiles) must all be built along the river. The government (black) tiles allow a player to assume the authority of other spheres when those leaders aren’t present. The trade (green) tiles helps the player procure valuable treasures. And just try and win an internal conflict without the help of the religious establishment (represented by red).

But it’s more than that. The game really does feel like the rise and fall of kingdoms and rulers. There’s an epic sweep to how kingdoms expand and are then devastated, how rulers can do so well and then fall to their rival dynasties. The game does feel abstract, but this is partially because it makes little effort to disguise its mechanics. It doesn’t try to connect everything to a thematic point. It’s only in examining why things are done the way they are that you see those little touches that make the game richer.

Tigris & Euphrates breaks away from a ton of established Eurogame dogma. It doesn’t involve victory points as such. It isn’t really an efficiency game, since a hot start will often be rendered moot by the end. The board can be highly dynamic, and change on a single move. And the tile draw is relentlessly fickle, denying players the colors they need at the worst possible time. Strange that these qualities have not been emulated much in the years since its release. Then again, this is not an easy design to crack. It doesn’t reveal its mysteries quickly, and it pays off with more experience.

I’m glad I gave it the time to get there. It’s the rare game experience that I haven’t been able to approximate with any other titles, even the afore-mentioned Acquire. In a crowded market filled with games that ape more successful ones, that’s a rare quality. I’m thankful that this game has been there as my own tastes have risen and fallen and evolved. It’s the rare modern design that has earned the title of “classic.”

This review is aw aboot tha wan yi get fi the shops o tha game provided tae us by the clever clog tha made it an the smart wan tha sells it. We dinnae tak any cash fir sayin stuff. We gie a general chat aboot how it plays and so mibbae just talk aboot the main stuff an no evrything ken?

Let me pontificate on the skills of the average honey bee. Have you ever seen the intricate way they build honeycombs? Aren’t you just amazed at how simply beautiful these creations are and how aesthetically pleasing they look? And have you ever seen them heading to a hive? It’s called a “beeline” for a reason. They are practically infallible at returning as quickly as possible. And that is to say nothing of the intricate dance they do to relay that information to other bees! That is why I feel that the extraordinary honey bee is perfectly suited to not only decorate a cake of which would make the Great British Baking Challenge jealous but also navigate a maze at extraordinary speed. As for the sumo wrestling contest...you can’t push what you can’t catch..As they say, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
“Doesn’t a bee die after they sting someone?”
“Shut up Carl.”

In case it matters, I am a solid Arkham Horror fan. I own all the expansions, played in both summer leagues with 6 other friends, and have attended 3 of the Arkham Nights. I dig this game. So I too was naturally excited to see FFG release a new game in the Arkham Files collection. As excitement built, the description of this game shifted more times than a shoggoth worker. It was a revamp, a remake, a streamlined version, a shorter version (but not like Elder Sign). It was the answer to all the problems Arkham Horror’s fans and failed converts voiced. But as this new being has now made itself known, its true nature is a bit different from the descriptions that preceded it arrival. Here’s what I think Eldritch Horror has gotten right:

Player rounds are more streamlined and turns more straight forward:In Arkham you have 5 phases (Upkeep, Movement, Arkham Encounters, Other World Encounters, Mythos Phase) that have now been compressed into three: Action, Encounter, and Mythos. Wisely, Combat has been moved into the Encounter phase as has any encounters involving gates/other worlds. Combat in Arkham was always a disrupting affair. It occurred (oddly) during the Movement phase could stall the turn flow if a player was stuck on a particularly difficult monster. Sure you could skip ahead, but that risked creating confusion especially with new players. Also since the presence or absence of a monster could affect the rest of the players decisions its important to first know the outcome of combat.This is no longer a problem, players can come and go in the presence of monsters but can not access encounter until they are defeated. And while we are on the subject of the Action Phase...

The Action Phase consolidates all “boring” non-encounter actions into one place:In Arkham Horror there comes a point where one or more characters have to break away from the task of closing gates and either gain more items, heal sanity/stamina, or both. The problem for me is these tasks slow the game down. Gaining these items/healing is uninteresting because you just arrive at the General Store, Hopital, Curiosity Shoppe, ect., forgo a themed-encounter, and simply just pay for what you need. Boring. Dull. Time consuming. And its possible to be kept on the sidelines after taken these actions when a monster wondering in your way, making your stay at the hospital much longer.Eldritch Horror removes all of these frustrations by allowing item attainment, healing, and movement acceleration to be performed at the start of the player’s turn. It doesn’t disrupt from player strategy and it doesn’t force a player to give up a meaningful encounter for clues, gates, or monster combat. Also of note, I love that money is abstracted to the Influence skill. Once again several different mechanisms (and extraneous bits) of Arkham, money, allies, the Deputy job, is compressed into one “thing”. Efficiency that doesn’t detract from flavor or theme.

Theme in Eldritch Horror is tied directly to action/consequence not location: One complaint is that Eldritch Horror does not have enough theme. I don’t think this is correct at all. Arkham Horror tied a vast majority of its theme directly to the town (board) itself, however there was little difference in which GOO you fought against. And it was a rare encounter that linked clue attainment with the encounter experienced by the player. In other words, a lot of description was given about the Witch House, but not any firm connections about how it plays into the summoning of Hastur or how any clues there relate to Hastur (unless you are playing an expansion- even then its scatter shot). Eldritch Horror takes the opposite approach, while many locations may be slightly generic, the act of gaining a clue, solving a mystery, closing a gate, going on a expedition, or improving a skill has a lot of specific theme tied to it. Finally, unique items are given a proper theme and due by being location that makes sense like in an Egyptian tomb or Stygian swamp instead of laying around in some shoppe.

Eldritch Horror also incorporates theme into the consequences of player actions. Failure in encounters results in specific ailments (which was one of the better aspects of the Dunwich Expansion). For instance casting a spell is no longer just a failed check, but instead risks the caster’s mind as it was always described in HPL’s works. Detainment/delay have more thematic “meat” to them than simply laying your player token on its side or losing your stuff. In Arkham Horror bank loans, maddness/injury, corruption, and dark pacts could all be easily avoid or often were not worth the trouble. Which was a shame because they did add a lot of story to each play experience- which is why personal stories/relationships were such a hit. Eldritch Horror avoids having these cards collect dust by weaving them into gameplay at all levels; you will mostly likely suffer an injury, gain debt, and/or risk your character’s sanity at least 2 or 3 times during gameplay (as it should be).

The roving monster parade has been replaced by better monster “ecology” further advancing theme:One of Arkham Horror’s main marks was monster movement. At times it can seem if those horrors really are hunting you down, but other times it seems as if they are just moving in a big circle around town. A recent complaint is that Eldritch Horror’s monster do little if anything at all. I find this surprising because Eldritch Horror does a better job tying monsters to thematic locations and actions. For instance, mummies and snake people are moved to the Pyramids and Amazon respectively. A single zombie, if left unmolested, will eventually generate the epic monster Zombie Hoard which will eat allies and advance the doom track. If its a chase you want, Nightgaunts and Hounds will follow you around the board. Meanwhile goat spawn will tempt you with dark pacts, witches and wraiths will curse you, and the esoteric experiments of the mi-go will make clues dry up on the board. And lets not forget epic monsters which allow you to encounter some of the avatars of the Great Old Ones. So how are these changes “inferior” to having monsters move? Eldritch Horror’s bad guys seem to have a better handle on their behavior as described in the many text that are background for this game. And they don’t have that confusing color system- red for go fast (not stop), yellow for stop (not caution/something different), and green for something different (but not fast?).

The Mythos is an ordered system tied to keeping the game moving instead of a random collection of events: Arkham’s Mythos deck is a great example of how a single deck could do a lot of work to provide a unique experience. Unfortunately, there was little way to control how any association of cards were drawn. Ideally the doom would steadily advance as new gates opened. However, due to statistics, a few well placed location seals will grind the end of the game to a meandering stroll. This was only remedied with the advent of gate bursts, a good solution, except a few in a row will undo a lot of hard earned progress. Eldritch Horror remedies this problem by dividing the Mythos deck into 3 different constructed stages that are placed together for a complete deck. Each stage is composed of 3 different types of cards (green, yellow, blue). As an added bonus each color of card has 3 different difficulty levels: easy, normal, and hard. Allowing game difficulty to adjusted to taste. Each of these colors has a different purpose. Blue card are Rumors which provide mini-crisis for the players to solve in order to stave off premature ends, green cards provide clue tokens and monster surges, and yellow cards provide Reckoning and Gate openings. All green and yellow cards move the omen track forward one, which triggers a decrease in the doom track depending on what Gate symbols are in play. This can result the doom moving 0-3 space in a Mythos phase. The net result of this stacking is a more even generation of clue tokens, Rumors, and monster surges. Instead the haphazard nature of Arkham where it was possible to get Rumors late game, monsters surges when it didn’t matter, and clue token on location with gates (which prevents them from being placed). Additionally if the Mythos deck ever runs out the players lose the game.

The end result is Eldritch is neither a remake or a revamp, but I think a game that stands on its own. Eldritch Horror design has clearly learned a lot from all previous Arkham Files games and also is hard wired with a lot of interesting control points for expansion input. You have the Omen Track, Research Deck, GOO Special Even Deck, a constructed Mythos deck, and a Gate Deck that could be substituted for anything. You have a game that is geared toward making sure the each player is active in their turn and not spending a majority of it performing accounting procedures or making non-productive moves. Eldritch Horror is not a game you need to own if you are happy with Arkham. But if your Arkham copy is not getting enough table time or you need a good introduction to new players, then Eldritch Horror is the way to go. It will also make a perfect gift for the Arkham Horror fan in your game group or family.

Two-player games have a special place in my home because most of my gaming is done with my wife. We're always on the lookout for games that are either built for 2 or work well for 2. In addition, my wife loves deduction games so when I heard the description of Confusion: Espionage and Deception in the Cold War my ears perked right up. This game had the potential to be a perfect fit for us.

One of the things that gamers tell themselves from time to time--a fallacy along the lines of "I really want a super-light adventure game"--is that they'd really, really like a 'fixed' game of Yahtzee.  However, when you put that notion through the funhouse mirror perception of a eurogamer designer, the result is generally disaster.

Klaus Teuber will always be best known for his greatest contribution to gaming, The Settlers of Catan. It makes sense, because pretty much everyone who’s in the hobby has owned a copy at some point, or has played one, or still owns it and hassles their families to try it out. It’s known as the first crossover hit in German board games, which is largely accurate. But before Catan was settled, Teuber’s first foray into the US market was a little double-guessing game called Adel Verpflichtet.

It’s been released in the United States at least twice, once in 1991 by Avalon Hill, and again in 2004 by Uberplay under the can-barely-say-it-with-a-straight-face name of Hoity Toity. The 2004 edition is the one I have, but neither version is still in print. It’s a shame, since it’s one of those games that is a genuine part of hobby gaming history. Not only that, but it’s fun too.

Everyone takes the role of a wealthy antique collector. Each round consists of two different secret choices. The first is whether you will go to the auction house to buy a new piece, or whether you will try to display your goods in a gallery and pick up some victory points. After players determine where they are going secretly, they all reveal their choices. Then comes the second secret choice, that of what role you will use in the location you chose. In the auction hall you can choose one of several money cards, though only the highest-valued one will get anything. You can also choose the thief to steal the card that buys the antique, but if there’s more than one thief, no one gets anything. In the gallery, players can choose to display a set of antiques, and the best sets get points. You can also use a thief here to steal antiques from other players, or a detective to throw the thieves in jail. The game goes until one of the scoring pawns reaches the end of the board, and the highest score wins.

It’s a very simple game. It mostly boils down to two double-guessing opportunities and a little bit of set collection in how you display your antiques. It feels perhaps too simple at intially. The first couple of choices will feel either obvious or arbitrary. But after a few rounds something starts to happen. Maybe it’s triggered by the first thief who gets thrown in jail, maybe it’s the first time someone’s all-important noh mask is stolen. Regardless, people eventually start trying to stay a step ahead of each other. It’s there that Adel Verplichtet begins to really show its quality.

Double-guessing is one of my very favorite game mechanics, because it’s such a good way to let a player outsmart themselves. You try to get so far into the other player’s head that you temporarily take leave of your senses and pick entirely the wrong thing. Usually double-guessing happens in a one-on-one situation, but in Adel Verplichtet it can happen between up to six players. It creates some genuinely bizarre moments, like when an entire table of people plays the same card several times in a row. I like it when everyone visits the auction hall, and all but one person plays a thief. It’s easy to think you’re being sneaky until everyone else tries to sneak in the exact same way. Likewise, it’s wonderful to bluff your way into some ill-gotten gains. Adel Verplichtet offers these moments over and over again.

It may seem like a one-note experience, and that’s not totally inaccurate. Like many German games, it’s made for ease and fun more than immersion and depth. But when the game lasts a mere 45 minutes it’s hard to complain much. Not only that, but the bluffing and guessing embraces what board games do best. It’s not a very narrative or thematic game. It simply does one thing really well, and it’s a uniquely board-game kind of thing. It’s the joy of looking someone in the eye and trying to get inside their head. And it’s the fun of the reveal, when you realize how right or wrong you really were.

I can only imagine what it felt like to American gamers in 1991. I know that a few German games (like Scotland Yard) had made it across the Atlantic during the 80s, but Adel Veplichtet follows a less orthodox structure. There are no turns. Everyone does everything at the same time, and you resolve all of the choices at once. It’s a common trick in game design today, but I think that it would have felt revolutionary to 1991 gamers.

Adel Verpflichtet content to be simple and accessible. In that sense, it’s no surprise that it’s fallen out of print once more. The game has aged very well and doesn’t feel long in the tooth at all, but it’s not the kind of design that gets a lot of attention anymore. Thankfully, it’s not yet one of those out-of-print games that is rare or expensive. You can track down a copy easily enough, and I recommend you do. It’s become something of a game night staple for me. I’ve been able to introduce it to parents, in-laws, and non-gamers and all have loved it. Hopefully it’ll make it back to store shelves someday, and more people can discover its charms.

I think it would be hard for any gamer with kids, especially one who appreciates the Ameritrash style of gaming, to look at a game like Haunted Ruins and not think, where was this game when I was growing up??  I mean, just look at the thing...  It's a 3D pop-up board of a haunted graveyard, with moving obstacles and passageways, and you're being chased around by a ghost and a zombie.  Being a rabid Scooby Doo fan as a kid, this would have been something akin to a "Grail Game" for me.

I have not been in this hobby for very long. I only discovered The Settlers of Catan seven years ago in college, and it was at least another three years before I started buying other "designer" games. So I'm hardly what could be called an old hand. But I feel like in that period of time, my tastes have evolved drastically. You see, what first attracted me to board gaming was the prospect of playing some fairly strategic games without having to sink an entire evening into one session. We've all been burnt by too many unfinished 5-hour Risk-a-thons, so it's understandable that we might be skittish around games that require more than two hours to play. And like some others, I was a little afraid of complexity in my games. A game that is hard to learn was not a game for me. I'd go to the game store just to ogle the shelves, and I would look at the rows of games by GMT and Fantasy Flight and think "why would anybody waste a whole evening playing one super-heavy game?" 

But then a curious thing happened. I was lured into purchasing the rather long and complex (to me) Battlestar Galactica board game. Well, not lured exactly. I went there out of interest for the TV show, which was beginning to wrap up at the time. And its similarity to Shadows Over Camelot (then a favorite of mine) pushed me over the edge. I bought it against my better judgement, and I assumed I'd never get that game played because of its length and complexity. Imagine my delight and surprise when I discovered that the game was easier to get to the table than I anticipated. So I went on a little bit of a binge. I tried a ton of longer titles, and many of them remain favorites to this game. But one remained outside my field of interest. 

 I had no interest in Arkham Horror. 

Most of that was just blind prejudice. I have never had a ton of use for the work of H.P. Lovecraft. It always seemed just a little too grim and nihilistic for me, so I had no real desire to try the well-loved board game. It was only when my local game store provided an "Arkham Horror" day that I actually felt I could take a crack at the notoriously complex game. Again to my surprise, I really enjoyed it. I didn't completely understand how to play the game, or even how to win, but I had a lot of fun. The other players were good sports. I didn't really do much to actively help the game, but I had a blast going around the board and just doing crap. I remember very distinctly that I became a tour guide to a foreigner at the train station. That particular detail was delightful to me. 

I did not realize it at the time, but complexity and length in a game, used well, can really up the excitement and detail of a game's narrative. Certainly Arkham Horror benefits in that very manner. The players take the role of various investigators around the city of Arkham. They will try to seal gates to other dimensions and worlds, before an enormous alien being awakens and ruins the town for everybody. Those gates barf up all manner of monsters into the streets. Players run around the city fighting monsters, gathering clues, and visiting buildings. If they get the right stuff, they can travel to another world and then hope to seal the gate when they return. If the players can seal enough gates, they win. If they don't, the Great Old One awakens, and they need to duke it out. Players win or lose as a group, making this one of the first of the modern crop of cooperative games. 

As I write that right now, it sounds for all the world like the plot of Ghostbusters. And really, I think that's what I like most about the game. It's a serious game for dedicated gamers, but at its core, it's kind of goofy. It's not uncommon to have a character who is a mystery writer be armed with an axe and a tommy gun, have a flask of whiskey on hand, and become deputy of Arkham. It plays a lot less like creeping doom, and more like some silly serial. Not that I mind this. Like I said, Lovecraftian horror isn't really my bag. But this game totally is. 

Because of the intricacies of the game, there are a lot of different ways things can go off the rails. If the cards don't work the right way, it can get out of hand in a hurry. That might get frustrating for some, but it's actually not as extreme as it looks. When you learn the game, it becomes perfectly beatable. In fact, I think it might actually be a little too easy to beat when you know what you're doing. There are eight expansions (!) available for the game, and I would recommend tossing the next one in whenever the game gets played out for you. My experience with them is pretty limited (I only have the base game and the Curse of the Dark Pharaoh expansion), but I'm already ready to get another one, probably Dunwich Horror. I haven't lost in a while. 

At least a couple of the mechanisms bear mentioning. First of all, I am a big fan of the skill check system. Each character has a set of six skills. A card or event will call for you to use a particular skill to resolve an action. That means you roll six-sided dice equal to the number on that skill, plus or minus any modifiers. Fives and sixes count as successes. It's a great system, because it allows you to assess risk right off the bat, and although you can load up a stat to kill a skill check, there's always the possibility that it will fail. It's a great way to inject tension into the game, and it's a very quick system. 

I also really like the combat system. It utilizes the skill check system to give you some really cool options when you face a monster. Don't think you can take them? You might be able to sneak by them and avoid fighting altogether. And if you choose to fight, look out: it might be so terrifying that your mind breaks just a little. It packs the game with lots of tension and story-telling, and it goes a long way towards making the game fun, even in failure. 

And I think the narrative is really what I like about the game most of all. It tells a very cohesive story. It reminds me a lot of the excellent Tales of the Arabian Nights, but with a much more fleshed-out game at its core. Still, that paragraph system is right there. It's just tied to decks of cards instead of a huge book. 

Complexity works for this game, but it's also a very real hurdle to overcome. The basic structure of the game isn't too complicated, but every different outcome produces a different set of things that need to be done. The game is loaded with housekeeping. Every turn requires you to adjust this and that, and every thing that needs adjusted has its own set of rules. I've read the rules through a couple of times, and they do make sense, but it's really easy to miss something. There are a lot of player aids out there, including at least one or two flowcharts, that are pretty much necessary for the game. But the best way to learn is to have someone else who knows the game well teach you. That person can act as a de facto game-master, and simply take care of a lot of that housekeeping inherent in the design. 

But if you can crack through that, it's a very rewarding game. Not rewarding in the conventional sense exactly. It's such a complex game that randomness can have a drastic effect on the outcome. There are a couple different ways to win, and a few more to lose, but you can't really gun for any of them with much certainty. The different factors ensure that your plans will sometimes go awry. But even if you lose, you'll have fun. It's hard to not like a game that allows you to travel to another world and debate with some weird creature. I've never been allowed to do that in Power Grid.

Would you like to be cool? Cool people agree that you should read my blog, The Rumpus Room. Couldn't hurt, right?

The more Martin Wallace tells me about Wildlands, the more impressed I get. It's clearly built on his wargaming roots but has evolved to become a quick-playing asymmetric game of fantasy combat. He tells me it's easy to learn, playable out of the box, but with plenty of mechanical depth.

A while back, I reviewed Tichu, the classic climbing game. For those who don’t feel like finding the review, let me save you the trouble: it’s a terrific game. You should buy it, okay? But here’s its one weakness: it requires four people. Yeah, I know you can play Tichu three-handed. But that’s pretty clearly not the way it was meant to be played. It involves dummy hands, switching partnerships, and individual scoring. It works, but it’s not ideal. And forget about even trying Tichu with two people. It doesn’t work. So what is the short-handed Tichu addict supposed to do?

The answer used to be “play something else,” but that’s no longer the case. Because a couple of years ago, Haggis dropped like a sheep’s stomach full of tense play and climbing-game goodness. Haggis is essentially a climbing game meant for two or three players. By “climbing game,” I mean that it’s something along the line of Scum or President. The person who leads plays a certain kind of combination, and the other players must play a higher form of the same combination (like say, a higher set of three cards) or pass. The person who plays the highest combo takes the cards. Haggis has a couple of key points that distinguish it from other climbing games. First of all, each player has three wild cards, an unsuited Jack, Queen, and King. These can be used to form combinations, or as a bomb (more on those in a minute). This is nice because it keeps someone with the “best hand” from just steamrolling the other players. There’s always a possibility that those wilds will create something even bigger. Secondly, the hand combinations are a little different. Since there are five suits, you can play anywhere from a single card to five of a kind plus all three wilds, to make eight of a kind. If you play a sequence of cards, they all have to be in the same suit. You can also play two or more identical sequences in different suits. Those sequences are difficult to form sometimes, so the wilds are a welcome addition.

Let’s talk about bombs. In Tichu, a bomb is any straight flush or four-of-a-kind. They can be played out of turn to win the trick, and then can only be beaten by a bigger bomb.  They are fairly rare, and it’s a cause of rejoicing when you are dealt one. In  Haggis, there are bombs that can be formed from your hand, but your wild cards can also be formed into a variety of different bombs. So everyone has at least one bomb in a hand. This isn’t a problem though, because people don’t often use their wilds this way. Why? Because winning with a bomb gets you the lead, but requires you to give the cards won to your opponent. All cards that can form bombs are point cards, so it can be a real wrench to give your opponent points from your hand to get the lead. Sometimes it’s necessary, but usually only as a last resort. It’s a terrific way to assure that bombs don’t throw the game off too much, and it makes for one of the most difficult choices in the game.

One reason that Tichu works is because of the act of calling “Tichu!” If you think you can go out first, you can stake some points on it. Haggis allows for this as well. Before you make your first play you can make a big bet or a little bet, which will bet 30 or 15 points, respectively. If you go out first, you get the points. Otherwise they go to your opponent. In this respect, I feel that Tichu does better. Part of this boils down to the more complex combos available in Haggis, which make it more difficult to assess your hand and decide whether or not to bet. This gets better with experience, but it didn’t come as naturally to me as it did in Tichu. The other factor is that most of your points in Haggis come from going out. You receive five points per card in your opponent’s hand. So if you storm through and stick them with a hand full of cards, you will score more than you will from a bet. In Tichu, the bulk of points is scored from successful Tichus, so the temptation to call “Tichu” is very strong. Bets work in Haggis, but they don’t quite capture the same sense of risk.

But overall this game works. It works really well, actually. Every aspect of the game feels very considered and polished. The designer posted several  design notes on BGG that really highlight his design process. There’s clearly a lot of thought in that little box, and the effort and care shows brightly. It does exactly what it sets out to do: create a Tichu-like experience for 2 or 3 players. It does so with aplomb, too. It’s tense, challenging, and very enjoyable. I would especially recommend it to couples who enjoy playing cards together. It’s seen a lot of play in our group lately, because it’s very easy to find two more players waiting for another game to start.

That the game falls short of Tichu’s greatness is understandable. Part of the reason I love Tichu is because of how organic the whole thing feels. It’s not a folk game like the box claims, but it feels like it could have evolved over hundreds of years in the marketplaces of Beijing. Haggis feels much more “designed,” as if it was engineered to imitate perfection. You’ll notice how much I had to mention Tichu in this review. That’s because Haggis never really escapes from its shadow. It’s definitely it’s own game, and anyone who loves Tichu will probably love this one too. But you can’t discuss Haggis without mentioning its big brother.

But if it’s in a better game’s shadow, it’s the shadow of one of the greatest games in existence. I have enjoyed Haggis immensely, and it’s got that same addictive quality as it’s big brother. Now I can get my climbing-game fix without having to look for two opponents to play with my wife and I. And like Tichu, Haggis retails at a very lean $15, so it’s a no-brainer to pick up. It’s become one of my favorite games of the past year. Even better, it fills the troublesome three-player spot as well as any game I’ve played since Ra. No true Scotsman would turn this one down.

Also, I have a blog, The Rumpus Room. It's probably popular in Scotland too.

*draws a situation card and reads it out loud*

 You’ve been tasked with writing a review of Wing It: The Game of Extreme Storytelling from Flying Leap Games. You have an impending deadline and no idea how you are going to start the review.

     So I'm reading Fortress Ameritrash one day, minding my own business, when reviewer Michael Barnes mentions a new game he's been playing about developing fighter aircraft in World War I. It's heavily historically based he says with an executive theme implementing hyperinflation, morale and the need to constantly compete against Allied aircraft technologies as well as those of your fellow players. As I'm reading I'm thinking, "holy crap, this game was designed for me." Barnes wrote "I’m really digging it, not one for everybody but I think folks that like business games or are interested in the subject matter will really like."

    Well, that's me. That's exactly the kind of thing I'm looking for in gaming (and rarely finding), and just as I'm thinking this, Barnes says, "Sag, this means you." Damn right it does. Tape a game like this to a good bottle of whiskey and I'll believe in Santa Claus again.

Wings for the Baron is one of those games where I opened it up, looked at the components and had a bad impression.  It looked super spreadsheet-y, with flowchart player mats and nothing but a large track for a mutual board. But it had a really cool setting- as its subtitle verbosely states, it’s about “innovation and profiteering among the German aircraft industries during World War I.” Which means to you, the player, that it is an economic game with a technology development angle. During World War I.

Dear Guys Who Make Settlers of Catan,

It is my sad duty to inform you that you are not Fantasy Flight Games. I apologize for the rude awakening, but I felt it important that you realize as soon as possible that you should not make Ameritrash games. You make some of the finest Euro games on the market, and you do it very successfully. I have personally enjoyed a great number of your European-style games.

However, I do believe you are not very well suited to creating games with heavy themes and lots of creepy monsters. Lovecraft games are best left to companies who specialize in hundreds of little pieces of plastic and too many cards, and who hire artists who get kicked out of LucasArts for being too nerdy. Rules for these games are supposed to be long, but generally somewhat intuitive, not short and confusing as hell.