by Justin Bell

Ray Charles and I agree: night time really IS the right time, particularly when it comes to my energy level.

Some of that is tied to the fact that I have children (ages 12 and 9) and I have a wife, all of whom typically go to bed by 9 or 10 PM every night. That means Dedicated Justin Time starts around 10, and I try to squeeze a lot in between 10 PM and maybe 1 AM every day.

In some ways, nights for me start as soon as my typical weekend afternoon siesta ends around 4 or 4:30 PM, because I try to take a nap each day on the weekends and select days during the week, especially if I can find or create a gap somewhere each afternoon when “that 2:30 PM feeling” kicks in.

So even though I love mornings, I find that my body’s peak energy sweet spot typically runs from about 5 PM until 1 AM. I have a passion for things like happy hour, dinner parties, evening networking events, and the Chicago nightlife. I also have a passion for playing board games at night, typically starting after 7 PM and running late, if I can find the right people to hang with me.

For me, the body clock is set. Board games exist in my world as an evening activity, and that activity is not limited to playing lighter fare at night either. In fact, some of my best memories of the last 10+ years are playing heavy games that ran late, that went past midnight, that featured people squawking at each other into the wee hours of the morning.



Conventions are sometimes worse for me because I will always find a way to start a game late when “free play” halls are open 24 hours a day. I have many memories of doing what I consider the absolute worst thing one can do at a show: opening a new treasure at like 10 PM, then ripping off the shrink and trying to table a new game by learning that game from the rulebook (“Justin…NOT FROM THE RULEBOOK!!”) when I have no business trying something like that.

You know the situation. “Yeah, I just picked up a copy of [insert new strategy title here]…we should DEFINITELY play it tonight. No, there are no teach or learn-while-playing videos out there because the game is so new. Yes, this is the right time to punch the cardboard chits, set it up then learn it by reading the 24-page rulebook tonight.”

“Is there any chance we finish this by 1 or 2 in the morning?” a brave soul, doubling as your group’s voice of reason, will offer.

“Absolutely. All we have to do is get through the rulebook; I’ll bet we are up and running in 20, maybe 30 minutes.”

Then you try to play the game…and find that you’ve just finished the first of four rounds, and it is already 1 AM.

But thanks to Ray Charles’ voice in the back of my head, my body is always telling me that night time is the right time to do just about anything. So, I’m the joker who tries this or just agrees with your plan—learning a new game from the rulebook is absolutely the right idea late at night during a show, so we should go ahead and commit to learning it. Strike while the iron is hot, even when it looks like everyone else is essentially asleep.

I still remember when a friend tried to get a game of 1861: Railways of the Russian Empire rolling, a first play we started at like 10 PM. (No, we didn’t finish.) A first play of Hegemony: Lead Your Class to Victory that went from a teach to a final turn that ended just after 1 AM on a Monday night? No sweat; those five hours just flew by.

Rebel Princess: Deluxe Edition at a convention free play space that started after midnight? Home, sweet home. A five-player game of Eclipse: Second Dawn for the Galaxy that started at 9 PM and required a teach? Count me in, even as one player hid in the corner of the map to earn a victory while the other players space-battled their way into a four-hour slugfest at the center of the playspace. (Naturally, that was the second game of a very long night of chucking dice.)

I’ve got dozens of stories like this, and I’m thankful that I’ve found other players who love playing games late at night as much as I do. That’s because I struggle carving out the time to play games during the day.



I certainly like the idea of playing board games starting at, say, 11 AM or noon on a Saturday. But the reality is that being a dad also means trying to avoid tough conversations at home.

“Honey, listen…my friend Beth is doing a game day from 12-6 PM. I’m thinking that, well, maybe I just bail on the family all day long, and you can run the kids to soccer, then band practice, then that third-grader birthday party downtown. We’re cool, right?”

Talk about a recipe for divorce! Instead, I try to carve out one day each month when I actually do bail on my family and tackle daytime gaming. Lately, that means starting around 4 PM with friends in the suburbs on a Sunday here and there. But getting out of parental responsibilities is tough and it never feels great, so I try to balance the day gaming option where I can.

Even if I wasn’t a dad, my body still loves afternoon down time. That makes my already-legendary lack of patience a bigger issue, so I try to avoid these trouble spots by not making critical board game decisions at 2 or 3 PM on a Saturday. Plus, no one I know plays games early, and I’m not a part of a 6 AM commuter game day where I can do card games with folks at a coffee shop downtown or something. (Maybe I need older gamers to join my network, since the people I know who love early mornings the most are also seniors. Some of those folks have already retired, so I’ll have to start making a list of potential gaming buds out of local retirees.)

Maybe it’s different in other parts of the world. There have to be people playing Grand Austria Hotel in an actual hotel lobby somewhere at 8 AM, right? Wargamers who kick off new campaigns at the crack of dawn? Post-yoga trick-taking game mornings with folks from a local gym?

I’ll keep an eye out; maybe mornings give me a chance to shake up the night owl formula that has worked wonders over the years.

In the meantime, nights will do. Thankfully, my body prefers late nights anyway.

by Justin Bell

One morning this past February, I was standing on a scale in my bathroom, doing my normal routine of knocking out the weigh-in before getting the kids ready for school. The number that came back wasn’t to my liking, the third or fourth or tenth week in a row where it was not to my liking. After I helped get the kids on their way, I dropped about $100 on a 12-month subscription to the Weight Watchers app to start tracking my meals and committed to a goal of losing at least 20, and ideally 30, pounds by the end of the summer.

As of this posting, I’ve lost 25 pounds, and assuming I stay on track with continuing to build better eating habits, I should cross the weight-loss finish line soon. But I think a lot about that day in February; I just hit a breaking point, and I got so angry when I saw the scale that fateful morning that it pushed for immediate action.

A similar thing happened this week, across three consecutive nights of gaming where players sent me to the breaking point. This article is both a love letter to some of the recent changes I’ve observed from publishers, and some interesting opportunities for players.



Last Monday, my review crew and I had the chance to play our first game of Entropy, the new Board&Dice release designed by Tommaso Battista, Simone Luciani, and Nestore Mangone. The game doesn’t have much video content on the interwebs yet, so I taught the game live to a group for this four-player game.

Teaching a game on site and in person to any group of players is typically a minefield, a minefield that gets progressively more dangerous as a game’s complexity rises.

I’m still scarred by the experience I had watching a person try to teach me Feudum almost six years ago. I see in my Logged Play notes that the teach took 80 minutes, for a game that ultimately took only a little longer than that to actually play. When you see a game’s Complexity Rating land in the 4.5-and-above range, it usually means you are in for quite a sit as you try to learn a game.

Entropy is certainly not that—I think the game’s complexity rating here on BGG will land in the 3.5-ish range once you, the people, begin to share your thoughts in volume—and it took only about 25 minutes to explain the game’s core concepts, main actions, and end-game scoring conditions.

But one thing was key during my Entropy teach, a hallmark of how far we have come as a community: I taught the entire game from the included player aid cards, and asked players to follow along from the aid, in part because everyone had their own. (My only gripe with publishers for this article: please, please, please include one player aid for each player! Competitive gamers don’t have a “share” gene! This is why they like competitive games! One player aid per box is not going to cut it, people!!)

With our teach complete and our snack bowls filled—it was a Kit Kat “Bunnies” night, alongside zero-calorie sodas, a selection of bottom-shelf bourbons, and the Kirkland Signature Kettle Brand Krinkle Cut “Pink Salt” potato chip night, because Costco recently decided that the words “Himalayan Salt” were simply too difficult for a standard American consumer to comprehend—we got to work playing the game. But something interesting happened as we began play:

Everything I had just taught, from the basic movement of a player’s worker pawn, to how actions worked, to scoring conditions, to limitations of components that can be placed on a player’s planets, quietly left the brains of these usually reliable players, almost as if I had taught the game in Dutch, but everyone at the table pretended they spoke fluent Dutch as they nodded along during the teach.

“Hey, sorry about this, but before I move…I know you said that I can move up to three spaces, but in which direction?”

“If you look at the ‘On Your Turn’ portion of the player aid,” I began, “that’s where it shows the rules for movement.” (There are also chevrons on the board that point in a clockwise direction near each space, and we will come back to this.) The text on the player aid: “Movement: move 1-3 spaces clockwise. Finish on either outer or inner space.”

“When I take the Create Life action, I see the icon that means I have to drop the matching action marker there to take the action, so I’m good there. But how many cards can I discard to take the place of icons I am missing from my planet-star combo to play a card?”

“If you look at the ‘Actions’ area of the player aid, on the side that has the major actions—yep, that side—you’ll see that you can discard one other card with one of the four icons you are missing to play the card you want. And don’t forget about the part you see in that same section of the aid: each planet can only accommodate three life cards.”

Although my basement gaming lair is pretty chilly during the summer when the air conditioning kicks in, I could feel my temperature rising a beat. Oh, another question:

“I’m trying to understand the icons for my Focus cards.” (In Entropy, each player gets their own asymmetric, lettered set (A, B, C, or D) of bonuses, which power each of the game’s three major actions. Think of this like the Experiment boards in Nucleum, where players can upgrade some of the standard actions they take to earn additional bonuses.) “What does this first symbol mean?”

“I don’t know, but I also can’t see your Focus cards from where I’m sitting,” I commented. “What does your player aid say for the set of Focus cards you have?”

“Oh, right, thanks, I forgot that was on the back of the ‘On Your Turn’ player aid card. Looks like I get…”

This continued for the majority of our experience, although like all games, the rules began to settle in for everyone—myself included—by the end of our first game. And, I can’t fault human nature: it’s simply easier to ask the rules guru at the table a thousand questions, since they know the game better than everyone else does. You’ve done it, I’ve done it, we’ve all done it…although, I take listening to a teach very seriously, because I teach so often myself.

The problem with this is the play experience for the rules explainer. I have been a vocal supporter of not only thanking your tabletop teacher for spending the time to both learn a game and be willing to teach it thoroughly to new players, but also acknowledging that it is so difficult to both teach a game and enjoy playing that same game.

That’s not because the game is new to the teacher, assuming this is their first time playing it. That’s because the learners at the table don’t take the time to consider all the tools available to them while playing, and being able to answer 75-100% of the questions that can be answered. That starts with the player aid.

Some of you know that I write an article each year on Meeple Mountain summarizing not only the best and worst games I played in a year, but also summarizes my thoughts on the stuff we really care about: the best rules for deciding a first player, the best individual components, the best dice. One of the categories is best player aid, and I love how far player aids have come over the last 3-4 years as highly complex games get summarized on a sheet or double-sided cards.

Recent titles such as SETI: Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, Galactic Cruise, Covenant, Arcs, Salton Sea, the Perseverance games, and La Pâtisserie Rococo provide excellent player aids, sometimes with little cues such as specific rulebook page numbers where a player can get more info even when the aid isn’t enough. (The aid for SETI is the gold standard in this category.)

Some of my favorite games of the last few years didn’t have a player aid, such as Clinic: Deluxe Edition and Railway Boom, but I can get over that if there are strong visual cues and a sort of board-based player aid on the main play area. Clinic has one of the best in the business, and Railway Boom does a great job with the information loaded into the auction area on the bottom third of the board. Sometimes, even a game’s player boards have enough turn action and clean-up/maintenance information to get by.

All of this provided information is great…but only if players bother to read the aid or look for other visual cues around the play area.

I’m certainly biased because I teach a lot of games, and I know how hard it can be for a person to spend a lot of time on the front end to get to know the game well enough to be comfortable teaching that game to others. It’s a lot! But players need to own their share of the investment. I’ve just spent 10, 30, 80 minutes teaching you the game…could you do me a favor, and simply listen??? Could you first look at the player aid before asking me another question, a question that may have just been answered because another player asked the exact same question two turns ago???



Over the next two days, I did another play of Nippon: Zaibatsu (with the upcoming Genro expansion) and a second multiplayer game of Entropy with two new players at a game night with a strategy gaming group in downtown Chicago. Many of the same things popped up, with questions about some of the game basics that could have been answered by the player aid, had a player acknowledged its existence first. (Kudos, as well, to the makers of the excellent “Player Handbook” included in Nippon: Zaibatsu, another game that can be taught from the player aid.)

By the end of that third straight day of beginning multiple responses with the prompt “if you look at the player aid...”, I snapped. (OK, you’re right: “snapped” for me is pretty light in the scheme of things. I happily went about my evening and watched the wild ending of the fourth game of the NBA Finals later that night…then immediately began to write this column.)

I’ve been thinking about ways to solve my own problems. Do I need to be more forceful with players as they consider their questions? Like my buddy John, should I start mining the Files area on BGG for every game in my collection that doesn’t have a player aid, so that I can start printing my own? (Thanks, BGG community; some of you have made great aids from scratch, particularly for older titles.) Where possible, should I send out PDFs of the player aid files in advance, so that players can have those handy on their phones while they study up on a new game?

Publishers have begun to do their part. And the drum I beat is not just tied to these medium or heavy-weight strategy games…because I say it every week: every single game needs a player aid. UNO needs a player aid just like SETI does. That’s because new players forget rules all the time. Heck, I forget a rule or two all the time with games I’ve been playing for years. Now that most games have player aids, we as a gaming community need to level up…and review those player aids when we have questions about a rule.

That’s the least we can do, right?

by Justin Bell

I have spent the last several months revisiting the game Rats of Wistar, a design from Simone Luciani and Danilo Sabia released all the way back in…2023. (Yes! A game three years old!!!) When I first reviewed the game over at Meeple Mountain, I talked about the many details that worked for me in a four-stars-out-of-five article.

Since then, I like where Rats of Wistar has landed in the overall scheme of the tabletop strategy gaming landscape. It’s holding onto a spot in the top 1,000 games on BGG (as of this posting, spot 930, a spot that might have changed even while you were reading this article), and that feels about right. The general consensus: Rats of Wistar is a solid way to spend a strategy gaming afternoon, with a strong action selection system. There are plenty of reasons why the game hasn’t landed higher; Rats of Wistar is a game most people in my network have heard of, but many have never pushed to try, at least not yet.

I suspect that, for a few players, Rats of Wistar is probably one of their favorite games. For others, even a single play made those players hope that they never see Rats of Wistar in a dark alley again (a dark alley with proper game tables and just enough lighting, of course).

I love going to the Ratings & Comments area on BGG to see what people think about a game, to see the trend line of a game’s comments after it first hits and then again later (months, and often years, later), to see how public opinion has possibly shifted. Our BGG community is a colorful bunch, so I often go in just to read what people think of a title after I have played it for the first time or after finishing a full review.

The commentary on Rats of Wistar is emblematic of how I feel about game opinions, too. Some people have games they love…and it’s wild to see how differently others feel about those exact same games. Certainly, no single game is for everyone. But I am continuously amazed by how widely opinions can vary on the same title.



Rats of Wistar is a lot of things—a worker placement game, a hand management game, a game about racing for public milestones, a tableau builder.

It’s also a game with two decks of Invention cards: 100 “basic” Invention cards, and another 80 “advanced” Invention cards, and all 180 cards are different. Some of the cards have one of five Skill icons: Intelligence, Agility, Stamina, Perception, or Strength. Some cards have no tags at all. Most cards are worth positive points at the end of the game, while a few are worth negative points. All the cards in Rats of Wistar have a cost to play, which includes a mix of resource costs (wood or metal) as well as conditional requirements, such as other tags from played cards.

The best Rats players typically play the most cards. I spent about six months lurking in the top 25 on the Rats of Wistar implementation on Board Game Arena, and I learned a lot from the world’s best players (mostly by getting smoked) on my way up the leaderboards. Now, I mostly play Rats for fun, because of the things many of you have called out in the Ratings & Comments area on BGG. That also means my stress level is lower—Friendly Mode has been a blessing—and this has not diminished my love for the game.

So, again: Rats of Wistar is a card game. It is a swingy card game, for all the reasons most card-driven tableau building games are swingy thanks to the random flop of new cards into the market and the opportunity to top-deck new cards. It’s also a little swingy right from the jump, thanks to a pre-game card draft.

During setup, each player selects a pair of Invention cards, one basic Invention and one advanced Invention card, with the player last in turn order drafting cards first. Rats of Wistar is a very tight action selection game, and going last even in the first round can be a detriment, one reason players might find themselves using one of their three first-round actions to flip turn order by visiting a space known as the Alchemist’s Hut location on the main board.

But the reward for going last is not a bad one, in a game where the right combination of cards to start the game could lead to some juicy bonuses.

In part, this is because there are three public milestones available at the start of each game. Sometimes, the milestones are driven by those card tags I mentioned above; these Skill icons might mean a game where you need to have two Strength icons to get a few points and an instant bonus. Or, you might be in a game where the first player to dig three rooms in their Rat compound (these are not your mama’s rats, friends) earns four points and a card draw of an additional Invention card.

But selecting cards first, in a card game where cards are a big driver, ends up being a big deal. I love it…and so many of you do not. A quick sample of the negative comments on only the most recent page on the game’s BGG Comments area:

“Starts strong…but devolves into a random luckfest unworthy of its playtime.”

“Not my cup of tea.”

“Very snowbally.”

“Was this playtested more than a handful of times?...too much hidden information on the board, too much imbalance among cards.”

I love these comments and respect these opinions. But, you know what’s funny? These are exactly some of the reasons why I love Rats of Wistar! Nothing makes me angrier, especially in games where there are dozens, if not hundreds of cards, where the cards in a game ARE completely balanced. I want cards that are intentionally unbalanced—some Invention cards cost more than others, but provide a whale of a bounty. Other cards in Rats of Wistar have crap powers…but those cards have the Skill icons needed to complete missions and objectives later in the game.

I’ve played games of Rats of Wistar where I was the one snowballing other players. I built up a hand of cards that played well into each other, then got on a run where I played a card which allowed me the chance to play another card for free, or a card that gave me a once-per-round power that tied beautifully into 3-4 other cards in my hand. In other games, I got completely trashed by a player whose hand management destroyed my game or built up combos that I could never compete with.

I LOVE Rats of Wistar for those reasons!



Nothing brings joy quite like spending 15-20 minutes over a lunch break scanning the feed on a game from my recent list of plays.

Whenever I pick up a new game and have a few plays under my belt, I like to dive in to see what everyone else thinks. The beauty of the BGG platform is that people love sharing their opinions here…the good, the bad, the ridiculous.

Sometimes, I come to validate those feelings with my own confirmation bias. I recently completed three plays of a new strategy title, and came in to confirm that some of the things I saw were also things that other players experienced. I also drop in to the Comments area when I play something I love but worry that no one else likes it…it might sound great that I liked it, but if no one else likes it, would anyone else bother to play it with me later?

But my favorite forums always end up being the ones for games like Rats of Wistar. Generally, people liked it, and most Luciani titles have gotten love over the years. Even with the negatives I sprinkled above, the reality is that most people have nice things to say about their experience with the game.

But when people don’t like a game, they flame it, and they flame it hard. I love reading the passion that some players bring to the table with their emotions in these things, and as someone who has also dropped a rant on the boards from time to time, I totally get it.

I really believe that I like a game more when there are some strong opinions, in all directions. I want to fight for the games I enjoy playing, and warding off some of the haters makes me feel a little better about my own thoughts, even in cases where I find myself in the minority. Everyone has a point of view, and now I just need to find other fans so that I can consistently get that game to the table.

BGG is a wonderful platform for everything: meeting people, sharing opinions, reading the news, learning about your next favorite new toy. And when it comes to opinions, so many people have so many interesting things to say!

by Justin Bell

I’m a father in a one-car family in Chicago—we don’t drive quite enough to need a second car, and with bikes and a Vespa-style scooter (and a bus line, multiple subway lines, and my own two feet) lying around, it just never made sense to pony up the cash for another vehicle.

Maybe once a month, I try to play board games during the daytime on a Saturday or Sunday. Everyone I know who has kids accepts that weekends are chock-full of kid activities that make it pretty hard—”impossible” might be a better term, based on the season—to break away and sell a partner on the idea that chucking dice is way more important than back-to-back soccer games, music practice, and shuttling children to the local trampoline park for yet another birthday party with 22 other cake-loving rugrats.

Friends were hosting a game day over Memorial Day weekend, so I carved out the negotiations at home to do games for a few hours that Saturday.

“All good,” said the wife. “But I’ll need the car to get the kids around. Can you take the scooter?”

No sweat. That meant I was limited to backpack-friendly games. When you are a trick-taking fanatic, a backpack might be too much space…and when I was hitting game nights at a bar near the Logan Square subway stop in Chicago years ago, I wielded a Quiver card-carrying case. The Quiver was perfect because I brought a few favorites every week that served as fillers between the chunkier titles brought by others. The standing list at the time: San Juan, Race for the Galaxy, UNO, Honshū, and a standard, 52-card deck just in case Spades, Hearts or Gin needed to hit the table.

But I was prepping for a heavier Saturday game day with serious players, and since we had the day, everyone was tasked with bringing one game so that we could hit a lot of different titles. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I was starting a series of review plays of Nippon: Zaibatsu, so I broke out my go-to board game backpack and tried to put Nippon: Zaibatsu into the bag.

Uhh…nope!



I had a moment of panic. To arrive on time by making the 45-minute drive to my friend’s house, I needed to act quickly. Do we have any bigger backpacks in the house? No, although I’ve got a bunch of larger duffle bags or a big board game caddy, but I hate wearing that caddy when I’m on the bike. Does my wife really need the car? Yes, because she is toting two kids to different parts of the suburbs in the afternoon and Uber isn’t gonna fit.

I stared at the Nippon: Zaibatsu box. While the box is fancy, it’s a little too wide with its insert…normally, a non-issue, but for backpack travel, a no-fly zone. So I got to work.

All four trays of individual player components came out, along with the four player boards and the two containers with general resources like crates, iron, and cardboard money chits. Rulebook and player aids? Clearly a requirement—this was a first play for everyone—but I was worried that all that jostling from the plastic trays might scratch the finish on the cover pages. (This is mission critical...I’m a nerd and I have to treat my toys like royalty!)

The worker meeples had their own dedicated cloth bag from the game box, so I threw that in. Then, I grabbed my handy BGG microfiber drawstring bags (the ones with the circular bottom, obviously) for the other bits: factory tiles, upgraded department tokens, expert worker tokens, round markers, local market demand tiles, starting tokens. The solo bits and the expansion extras were left behind—I never include mini expansions on my first play—and that left me with a very reasonable set of items in the backpack.



The best part about Nippon: Zaibatsu’s footprint might be its strangely normal-sized board. As a man expecting a double-sided, tri-fold board with a decent amount of heft, I was shocked (in a good way) to find that this game’s main board is the same size and weight as the board for your thousand-year-old copy of Monopoly or Clue.

All of this made throwing the game into the bag easier. I zipped up the bag and made it to game day a few minutes late. No one cared that I had thrown all the game’s components, piecemeal, into the bag, and the initial concerns of scratches on the player aids and game manual were as silly as they sounded when I made the argument above.

The world carried on, as one would expect. But now that I’ve gone through it—how have I not faced this issue before? Shouldn’t I just look at all my games and pick the one that can be dumped, in full, into my backpack for travel? I already toss a lot of the packaging extras when I consolidate SPIEL Essen pickups and try to jam 40 “large square” (12”x12”x3”) titles into two checked bags, so this shouldn’t be such a stretch.

The truth of it is that I love arriving at game night with the original packaging. I love posting up at a friend’s house or a game cafe with the game box at one end, with the box’s bottom half tucked behind, then into, the top half cover so that everyone can see the title of the game. There’s something satisfying for me when I wrap up a game and put everything back in its proper place with some help from a friend or two.

In many ways, teardown can be just as satisfying as setup, even if I don’t subscribe to the same philosophy as our old friend Eric.

For now, I’m a little more comfortable pivoting when needed. And I’m lucky to say that I can usually avoid any issues on this front most weeks…because I’m usually the one hosting game night.

by Justin Bell

Some of you are familiar with The Dusty Euro Series that I craft over at Meeple Mountain: one-off reviews of Euros that are at least 10 years old at the time the article goes up.

I’m lucky to know a lot of players who love to dig into the crates to dust off classics from time to time.

Every so often, I not only play a single older title for game night, but a few all at the same time. I will write about those nights here and discuss the good times shared at the table. I know some players are obsessed with “the cult of the new”, but there are thousands of “old”, great games out there and I will use this platform to ensure people keep getting all kinds of games to the table.

Enjoy!



My man Dan recently celebrated a birthday by hosting game night at his place. While the chatter leading up to the night was tied to some of Dan’s favorite games, such as Marco Polo II: In the Service of the Khan, Caylus, and Lost Ruins of Arnak, Dan claimed that he was open to playing almost anything, as long as folks could make the quick trip to his house.

After we worked through some pizza, Oreo Double Stuf cookies, Dot’s Pretzels, and something that looked like it was healthy (I am told the word I’m looking for is “carrots”), we broke out the bourbon and got to work. Dan’s birthday turned out to be a party of six, so we decided on Uwe Rosenberg’s 1997 negotiation classic Bohnanza to start the night.

Bohnanza is one of those old games that I think a lot of people have heard of, but I don’t think a lot of players—particularly younger players or those who are newer to the hobby—have run out and tried. You can find copies online and I’ve seen copies in stores, particularly hobby stores that have a used game area, but it’s rare that I see Bohnanza used as a “gateway” game for new players like other titles typically used in those circumstances.

That’s a shame, because while I’ve only played the game twice, I came away from this recent play thinking the same thing as some of the other people at the table that night: Bohnanza might be the designer’s best work, and it is absolutely the most straightforward Rosenberg design that I have tried.

Bohnanza is a negotiation game, where prospective bean planters use cards to plant beans into one of two “fields” (simply two empty spaces in front of a player) to earn coins…most coins wins. On a turn, a player must play one or two cards from the “front” of their hand (right or left, but a player must decide this at the beginning of the game and they can never rearrange the cards in their hand), to either continue a matching set of beans from their fields, or wipe a set to create a new field.

Depending on the number of cards in a player’s set—and depending on the number of that bean type in the entire deck, which makes some beans more rare than others—they can wipe a set with enough copies to convert some of those cards into coins, with each converted bean equal to one victory point. After playing cards, a player draws two cards from the top of the deck, flips them for all players to see, then (usually) adds those cards to their own fields if they match before opening negotiation for card trades with their opponents.

It is this last point that makes Bohnanza highly group dependent. Dan is a part of my Wednesday gaming group, with a lot of jokers who talk as much or more smack than I do (hard, but possible), and who prefer the yelling and screaming portions of any game night. Spoiler alert: Bohnanza has a lot of those moments, particularly when players are jockeying for one more blue bean, or trying to negotiate black-eyed bean “futures” by making empty promises for favors later in the game (favors that are absolutely not binding), or yelling because someone’s earlier promise for red beans resulted in that player throwing said red beans into the discard pile to make way for a new set on her next turn.

(Yes, that last part happened to me. Yes, I’m still angry about it, despite the fact that another player and I shared the victory thanks to a matching number of coins and leftover cards remaining in hand. Grudges run deep!)

Bohnanza does run a bit long for my tastes. Our six-player game went for about 70 minutes, mainly because all six of us yelled as much as we could to convince other players that each of us had “the best offer”, every single turn. That’s a LOT of negotiating. But still…

“I think this is the best game ever made,” one player said when we were wrapping up. That player, a game designer himself, got a couple nods from others at the table.

It also reminded me of something else I think about when I’m writing game reviews: when prospective game designers (or even established ones) play games like Bohnanza and they, themselves, are designing a negotiation game, do they think about the fact that making a game as good, or better, than Bohnanza should be the inspiration to make something great?

It’s a fascinating thought.



The second game of the night was the second edition of Camel Up, released in 2018, although the original came out in 2014, ensuring that it qualified for inclusion in this article. (In our play group, Camel Up 2E is known as “the version of Camel Up with box cover art that reads Camel Up, not Camel Cup.” Long-time players know what I am talking about!)

For a few years after the first edition of the game was released, one of the Wednesday night guys would always start the night with Camel Up, because it can accommodate up to eight players and we always had a couple folks showing up late. This also meant that I came to despise Camel Up for a period of time; good or bad, I just don’t want to play the exact same game every time I come to game night!

Camel Up, like Bohnanza, is also a yelling and screaming game. One player, who had played Hot Streak but was seeing Camel Up for the first time, listened to the teach and wondered “did Camel Up rip off Hot Streak?”

“No,” someone said, since Camel Up came out first. “But you are going to get some Hot Streak vibes for sure, especially when camels start going in the wrong direction.”

That’s because the second edition of Camel Up has the same shenanigans as the first edition—dice, camels, a random assortment of ways camels can move forward by moving on their own versus riding on the backs of other camels, betting on camels to finish first or last in both a round or the entire race—plus two new camels, one black and one white, that are moving BACKWARDS all game long.

When a forward-moving camel lands on a backwards-moving camel, that might mean that the pony you thought was certain to win might get carried three spots backwards on multiple turns, throwing an already precarious situation into further disarray. Oh, and did I mention that in the second edition version, there are six dice in the pyramid dice shaker (one for each of the five normal camels, then one die for both the white and black camels) but only five dice are rolled in each leg of the race??

The winner of our play of Camel Up guessed on his very first action of the entire game which camel would finish the race first…and he was right, winning by the difference his total gave him by guessing earlier than anyone else, three points. Camel Up is a gambling game through and through, and having NOT played it for years made it all the more enjoyable.



At this point, one of the guys in the group desperately wanted to get his copy of the also-old, also-brilliant Reiner Knizia game Samurai to the table, so we broke into two groups of three. It was about 9:30 PM on a school night, so my dreams of Dan picking Marco Polo II were off the table. Still, I wanted to honor the birthday boy with one last play.

“I’m good for another hour or so,” I said. “I’ll play whatever you want.”

“How about Puerto Rico?” he asked. Two of us raised our hands to join him; I hadn’t played Puerto Rico in a couple years, at least not “IRL.” (I play the Puerto Rico app all the time, plus I’m more of a San Juan guy than a Puerto Rico guy; San Juan plays faster and serves as a solid filler in my home while scratching most of the same itch.)

Puerto Rico is no stranger to you, the fine people who read our content, as a former #1 overall slot holder and a member of BGG’s Hall of Fame. (Shameless plug: I’m one of the folks featured in the video.) But I swear I say this every time I play Puerto Rico, even when I play it by myself on the app or online on Board Game Arena:

Why doesn’t Puerto Rico hit the table more often?

The other guy at our three-person table hadn’t played Puerto Rico in so long that he needed a full teach…eight, maybe nine minutes later, we were good to go. The production of the original game is gloriously basic; I don’t believe in using cardboard money, so it was both a personal insult and a genuine hoot to distribute coins that felt thinner than notepad paper. Setup was done in a flash, especially with three of us, and we were up and running quickly.

Puerto Rico, like Race for the Galaxy and other games that feature the hallmarks that made them so innovative “back in the day”, uses the nuances of the active player advantage or “privilege” to such great effect. Just picking a role each turn—especially the ones that had just enough coins piled on from previous-round neglect to make them attractive—was a joy, picking up the physical role tiles to kick off a new set of actions.

I went hard on the Settler action and quarry tiles, piling up four quarry tiles in what felt like a blink of an eye, making Builder actions really cheap later once I got enough colonists in place. One player went big on production and market benefits, and was the only player to participate in the coffee and tobacco markets. Another player decided early on that he needed his own boat for shipping, so he bought a Wharf tile then piled up a nice array of corn, sugar, and indigo fields to create a handsome shipping empire.

Turns were moving quickly, just the way I like it. I got to socialize my terrible British accent by saying “well ‘allo, Guvna!” every time we passed the Governor tile, dictating the new first player for a fresh round of actions. Taking turns that benefited only me was also a joy, a joy shared each time another player did it to the rest of us. (Curse you, Dan, for taking those three coins on the Trader tile and selling the final item to the Goods Market, closing the rest of us out of making money that turn!)

Scores were close at the end: 52, 47, 47. But I was happy to see the birthday boy go out a winner. I blamed myself for tossing a bunch of corn into the ocean—bad craftsman and captain timing, and haven’t we all been there?—but I can fix those problems another day.

In the meantime, I got to bask in the glory of enjoying old games with friends. I’m excited to hear about some of the classics all of you got to the table over the holiday weekend!

by Justin Bell

I checked my phone’s weather app for the upcoming week. The forecast showed a steady diet of inbound beauty in Chicago: lots of sunny days in the high 60s and low 70s (Fahrenheit, for my friends abroad), an outlook of blue skies, and a healthy dose of days where temperatures would rise into the 80s.

Most people in Chicago love it when the temperatures start to warm up; I still believe Chicago is the best place on Earth from Memorial Day to Labor Day. It’s just a totally different place when you add warm weather to the already solid roster of great people, great restaurants, great sports (well, maybe “good” is more appropriate for our pro teams) and great sightseeing, because we also have a beach ready to go when people don’t want to fly to places like Florida, and the summer street festival season is something else.

I, too, love warm weather. Unfortunately, when it gets warm in Chicago, every board gamer I know essentially stops playing games to take advantage of the weather. As a player, and as a game reviewer, it’s the toughest time of the year to find bodies.

***

One of my former steadies is a strategy gaming group formed during the early months of COVID. For a stretch of time, 6-8 of us would gather a few times a week and mask up to play games all over the city. The group was reliable, in part, because most of us had nothing else going on. We found each other strictly because of availability; the world had shut down, but gamers seem to always find a way to chuck those dice.

I’ve never played board games on a nearly daily basis like I did for the first two years post-COVID. I was playing games four, sometimes five days a week for stretches, especially in the dark days of winter when the best thing you could do was survive the trip from your house to a buddy’s place and find parking that wasn’t “dibbed” by some guy’s lawn chair in Avondale.

Even in that group, everyone scattered from early June through late August. It was like college let out for summer break, and you could only find your high school friends for drinks and mozzarella cheese stick specials at the local TGI Friday’s / Bennigan’s / Chili’s. (Gosh, I miss a good round of greasy cheese sticks.)

Nowadays, it sets in with my review crew right around the first week of May. I always put out the call the weekend before review crew night with the normal request: ”Games this Monday! Who’s free?” Usually, we fill seats within a few hours. But when summer approaches, the rapid response rate turns into a trickle.

“I can’t make it this week.”

“Yeah, I’m taking a vacation with the family all of next week.”

“Friends in town, we’re doing drinks on a patio in the city.”

“Out” (not even showing enough respect to end this already abbreviated sentence for formal punctuation!)

Now, some of this is the double-edged sword that I have set up for myself: I’m a nerd, but I prefer playing games with nerds who also have a pretty robust life away from the table. Part of this “mistake” is my own; I need more people in my life like me, who have kids, or are getting older, or have nothing going for themselves on Monday nights. (Like, seriously, who has hot plans on a Monday? It’s Monday, for crying out loud!)

And that’s usually in early May. By late May, it’s DEFCON 2 at my place. Review nights are so close to summer extinction that I begin refusing some review requests from publishers, because I know it’s going to be a challenge to get players often enough to get 3-4 plays of a new title in before posting a review.

***

Gaming at home is unaffected by the weather. My wife, or my two kids, or any mix of those three are around often enough on a rainy day or after Saturday morning cartoons or when I’ve tied the night’s dessert to playing a new card game. (“Yeah yeah yeah; we have ice cream coming up. But first…”)

Because I do at least one play of each review copy with the family, or we play a lot of the family classics for fun, I’m still playing games 2-3 times a week at home.

But for my other groups, those warm outdoor temperatures make it tough.

I love the Logged Plays feature on BGG. While I was drafting this article, I was curious about my recent summer activity, so I looked up my summer plays over the last five years. Each year’s lowest monthly count happens not in December for the holidays, or convention months like October where I’m out of pocket for a week or two. For me, it is ALWAYS summer.

In 2021, it was May, with 27 logged plays. 2022, it was March, with only 19, but then I went back and checked out why—I was in the final month of a job at another company, and I was out of town for almost the entire month. The second-lowest total was June, with 30 plays. In 2023, it was July, with 19.

You get the idea. Since a lot of the year’s big US releases hit at Gen Con, then the global releases hit SPIEL Essen, summer usually ends up being the time that I begin to clear the calendar for the hottest upcoming games and convention hauls. To cleanse the palate, I love to play games in my collection that don’t get enough love during other points of each year, and mix standing favorites with titles that can get a lot more love than usual, especially with the kids.

Last year, it was a solid mix. Union Stockyards hit the table, one of those fun, underappreciated one-hour Euros I love to whip out from time to time, in the family of Chicago-themed games that also happens to feature hogs, real-world businesses, and a solid, snipe-y area control battle. Stone Age came out! Rococo: Deluxe Edition was still great, and it was still ridiculously deluxe. My son fell in love with Mastermind and insisted on playing it a bunch in late June.

A few review copies got 2025 summer love as well. Since the Tiletum expansion, Prospect for Silver, arrived in July, that meant I had no choice but to get the base game out to refresh my memory. The same was true with Xylotar, an incredible trick-taking game, to prep for the Xylotar: Unhinged plays later in the month.

No matter what time of year it is, campaign game groups are really challenging for me. Still, I got in the first few chapters of Clank! Legacy 2: Acquisitions Incorporated—Darkest Magic before summer vacations killed off my campaign group.

That means the safest campaigns are with people who already live at the house…which made the first eight missions of Metal Gear Solid: The Board Game with my son a breeze. (“Snake? Snake? SNAAAAAAAAKE!!!!”)

Memories from last year are getting me hyped for the summer ahead, despite the lack of players. Fantastic Factories made its way to the table before dinner a few nights ago, after sitting quietly on a shelf for years. I mixed in a play of Brass: Lancashire with an upcoming hidden role game last week. I’m wrapping up reviews of a couple of the Pax titles from Ion Game Design, a family-weight card game called Circadia, and in the process of relearning Nippon on Board Game Arena, I’m also prepping plays of Nippon: Zaibatsu over the next few weeks. And now that Nucleum: Gibraltar has arrived, I’ll line up a few plays of that one soon.

So, I’ll still get some gaming in while the temperatures heat up. But, I won’t be sad at all when that cold air kicks up again this fall!

by Justin Bell

“Call me as soon as you can man.”

My brother’s third text of the day chased back-to-back missed phone calls. When I’m not writing tabletop content, I work as a program manager for a consulting company. Thanks to a meeting with our company’s COO and Global People Officer, it had been a busy, stressful morning. My phone was on “do not disturb”, so when I flipped the phone over, my brother's communication thread made it clear that there was a real emergency.

Sadly, my fears were confirmed. After a series of alarming health changes over the past few months, our father had collapsed at his home in upstate New York. Even though CPR had been administered relatively quickly, my father’s pre-existing health issues and the morning collapse led to a visit to the emergency room, which quickly became a visit to the intensive care unit.

The situation quickly became tragic. Dad never regained consciousness, and he was placed on a ventilator. Suddenly, machines were the only thing keeping him alive. I booked a flight to Rochester and arrived about four hours before Dad was set to be taken off of life support.

You always think you will have more time.

“Immediate family only,” the signs outside the ICU said. That meant just five of us—stepmom, half-sisters, my brother, me—spent Dad’s final hours in a small hospital room, holding Dad’s hands and shedding plenty of tears. We also did what we loved to do any time the group was together: laugh about the memories that have lasted a lifetime.

A few of those memories were about games.

***

My father was never the person who suggested playing games; in fact, he never seemed to even enjoy playing them.

As a kid, we played a lot of the traditional “roll and move” games with Dad, like Monopoly and Parcheesi. From time to time, we tricked Dad into joining something like The Game of Life. UNO? Obviously. The Rummy family was always lurking nearby: Rummy, Rummy 500, Rummikub, Rummoli (the Poker/Rummy variant of Michigan Rummy that I grew up with).

It felt like Dad was always working late, so games were usually limited to weekends, and my time with him was further limited thanks to a divorce that changed our family dynamic when I was just a child. For my father, games clearly felt like work, so he was less inclined to playing games and more inclined to other leisure pursuits—long meals, action movies, road trips, televised golf tournaments (which mostly doubled as “dad naps”, a tradition we carry on in my home today).

Later in life, Dad could occasionally be tricked into playing games, but there was a limit to how many rules he would bother to learn before throwing up his hands. Like the relatives of many players in my network, Dad seemed to hate just about anything that was “too complicated.” (This is only funnier because my dad loved to play golf—itself a very complicated sport—and he worked in complex management roles throughout his career. I get it: everyone’s brain needs a break. But often, the “too complicated” label felt like lip service.)

Occasionally, the sibs and I pushed Dad to try something new. Seven or eight years ago, I brought a bunch of hobby games to a Thanksgiving family weekend, and forced my dad to play Luxor, the Rüdiger Dorn hand management game. (Although I love other Dorn designs, such as Istanbul and Goa, Luxor is still the Dorn title that hits the table the most.)

Luxor is a relatively rules-light experience that plays in about an hour. The main hook: players manage a hand of five movement cards and a small pool of adventurer tokens, tokens that must be moved forward on a track that ends with a treasure tomb in the middle of the board.

On a turn, players can only play either their left-most, or right-most, card from hand to move one of their tokens toward the tomb. (Cards in a player’s hand are never shuffled or moved, only played when they reach one side of their hand.) At the end of each turn, a player must add a new card to their hand from a draw pile, which must be inserted into the middle of their now-four-card hand to give them a new five-card hand for their next turn.

“This is ___ ridiculous!” Dad said, after hearing the hand management rule two minutes into the teach. (I’m leaving the profanity out, for the purposes of a family-friendly website.) “This game has too many rules.”

Still, Dad decided to play Luxor with my wife and stepmother…and almost won, coming in just a few points behind the eventual winner. At the end of the game, he begrudgingly admitted that he had fun thinking through the best ways to move his adventurer tokens around the map to pick up treasure tokens and sets of cards from the movement track. The best part? Dad didn’t really listen during the teach, so he only ever played his left-most card all game long, and only ever added new cards to the right side of his hand.

My father also hated the idea of cooperative games. “I want to have a chance to win,” he would say, because to Dad, winning meant “beating everyone else at the table.” So, whenever we floated co-op games by Dad (The Crew, anyone?), it was a hard pass.

Now, Dad WOULD play games with a team…as long as the goal was to beat the other team. The day we got Dad to play Codenames—a family favorite for everyone else in the household—is still one of the most shocking moments in Bell Family Vacay history. Codenames is always a riot with my family; when a team’s Spymaster goes on a one-word clue run that scores three or four cards on a single turn, that story becomes legend. (Naturally, when someone blows it and gives a clue that reveals the Assassin, that kind of story becomes legend, too!)

Most years, Dad would politely pass when given the chance to play Codenames. But when he finally did decide to join the family for a play, it was a moment. He didn’t want to play as a Spymaster that first time—let’s give the man a “try bite” first, right?—but simply being willing to join the whole family for once was such a thrill.

***

Ultimately, Dad’s favorite thing about games wasn’t playing games at all. It was grabbing a newspaper—or later, his iPad, since even my father had to come to grips with reading the news in the present—and being at the dining room table while others played games.

My dad loved being near the action. He was constantly looking up from his newspaper, smiling at his family, watching them enjoy themselves, laughing along with the group when something funny happened during a player’s turn.

I recently went to a friend’s game night…not to play, but to simply sit around. I’ve done that a few times over the years, and lately, my work schedule has been rough and I don’t always have the capacity to do much more than sit in the same space as my friends. (I am very good, however, at eating your snacks, drinking your bourbon…or, both.)

A friend was running a game of Blood on the Clocktower, and ten adults laughed their way through hours of fun as they ran two sessions back-to-back. The friends asked if I wanted to jump in, to take on a character role in-between rounds.

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “I just love being here.” Watching innocent friends get eliminated by their peers was glorious. Standing in a corner of the room with two others as they plotted their way into the next night’s accusation was a blast, too. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but just being around others as they had fun on a game night made me think about how much Dad must have loved just being in the room with his kids.

***

The five of us at the hospital were rolling, laughing as we reminisced about so many great times with Dad. As a group, we laugh with and at each other all the time, and we laughed at some of the funny things Dad used to say, some of the bad fashion choices of the last 40 or 50 years we could remember, that time Dad claimed to be on a diet while pounding eight pieces of fried chicken at a local theme park, Dad’s everlasting appreciation for the musician Prince, and took a moment to appreciate the biggest laugh of anyone I have ever met.

And, the times when Dad would settle into his spot at the end of a large table, a glass of Cutty Sark and a plate of cheese and crackers nearby, watching everyone else having fun playing games.

Eventually, the harsh reality of the hospital situation returned. A nurse walked in; a doctor joined her. We had a few more minutes with Dad before…well, before.

I got in one more squeeze of Dad’s hand. Everyone gave him one more kiss on the forehead, then the doctors did what they could to offer him a peaceful passing.

I’ll miss you, Dad.

by Justin Bell

A few months ago, I joined two friends for a play of The Gallerist, one of my favorite titles from designer Vital Lacerda. (Also, Vital: thanks for the intel on hot spots in Lisbon. The pastéis de Belém were absolutely magnificent!)

A friend was celebrating his birthday weekend, so he was hosting an all-day gaming session where folks like me would show up in waves to play the birthday boy’s favorite titles. It had been maybe a year since I last played The Gallerist, so I watched a teach video to warm my brain up to the rules and reminded myself of some of the things I’ve seen work when I’ve won, and (more often) watched others do to win.

The host, who we’ll call “Schmeven”, had built a schedule for the day that was pretty tight. We’re talking two-hour blocks, with some games that were already going to push on the soft borders of that Google Sheet’s time window. The Gallerist was set for 11:30 AM, the first game on the slate. For this particular day, I was intent on arriving a couple minutes early, to help Schmeven keep the events on schedule.

I rolled up at 11:28 AM and buzzed Schmeven’s apartment. Walked in, sat down, and readied myself for the play. Schmeven, who, like me, ensures that the first game of the day is locked and loaded when guests arrive, had done his part and the game was set up and ready to go.

Then Schmeven got a text. Our third player, who we’ll call “Slim”, was running late. Slim had taken the wrong bus line to Schmeven’s house, so he was going to be delayed for another 20-30 minutes.

Foolishly, I had made other plans with the family to start about a half-hour after the originally scheduled end time of 1:30 PM. That part is on me; two hours for The Gallerist with players I don’t know is potentially a gamble. But, hope springs eternal. My thinking: if Slim moves at the velocity of Schmeven and I, we’ll be fine to wrap up The Gallerist in 90 minutes or so.

Schmeven’s quick turn-taking is well established; Schmeven and I have done a two-player game of The Gallerist in just over an hour, and we’ve done two games of Speakeasy in a single sitting in under three hours. He has earned the Justin Bell Gold Speed of Approval and is always welcome at my table; he, like me, takes snappy turns. Even though Slim was the wildcard on this particular day, he just had to play at roughly the speeds Schmeven and I normally play at, and we would be in great shape.

Well...not exactly.

***

Slim arrived, exchanged pleasantries, apologized for the delay, and sat down at his station near me at the table. Slim is a seasoned strategy gamer who entered our gaming circles with a wealth of street cred. I was excited to see what he would bring to The Gallerist during our play.

After everyone was seated, I turned to Slim. “When’s the last time you played this one?”

“Gosh, maybe six, seven years ago? It’s been a while, so I’m a little rusty…I didn’t have time to do a full rules refresh, but I think I remember how most of this works…the player aid IS really good, so I can always fall back on that.”

My heart sank. My soul—what little soul I had left—sank lower, if that was possible. We were definitely going to have to sorta play and sorta teach this game to Slim while taking our own turns. There was no way we were getting through this one in 90 minutes.

Separately, in my review crew, everyone knows that I have a hard and fast rule when it comes to tabling games: if there is a teach video anywhere on the interwebs in English, players have to watch those videos before they come to game night. It saves SO MUCH TIME, and it ensures everyone has skin in the game when it comes to the investment part of knocking out multiple plays of different games in a single night.

I am more lax about this with other groups, and for this play of The Gallerist, I think there was an unspoken expectation that everyone knew the rules, but we never called that out when setting up the birthday schedule. After this experience with Schmeven’s birthday play of The Gallerist, I’m thinking about changing my tune.

***

As I expected, Slim tested every bit of my patience during our play. I’m told patience is a virtue, but I’m beginning to question that.

I’ve only joined Slim for a couple of game nights, but I have found that Slim is a player who verbally talks out his options before taking a turn. I do this from time to time, especially late in a game with friends where I can talk through one or two options on a turn that might swing the game. But certainly not on every single turn.

Slim’s turns looked a lot like what some friends call “min-maxing”: exploring many, if not every, possible outcome before making a selection most beneficial to the current game state. Again, no problem late in a game, and I am on record as telling other players that on the final turn of any game, you can take as much time as you want…no one wants to see a player lose a game because they made a major blunder on their final action.

But, Slim’s min-maxing happened on almost every turn for the first nine, maybe ten turns.

The Gallerist is an action selection game where players have a choice of four major locations. Each major location—the International Market, the Sales Office, the Media Center, and the Artists Colony—offers two unique actions. When a player moves their pawn to a new location, they pick one of the two actions there, and execute it. On successive turns, the active player must move their pawn to a new location to take a different action.

I never mind when a player is thinking through which of the three locations they want to move to next, nor how they will best execute the action at their chosen location. But a player needs to fully understand what’s possible at each location, and Slim’s rust showed during those moments. Often, that meant Schmeven and I were explaining what actions were possible at each of the three locations available to Slim on that turn, which meant talking through the possible outcomes of SIX different actions.

Every turn.

When I do a full teach of any serious strategy game for new players—this exact scenario happened just two weeks ago, when I got to play Chicago 1875: City of the Big Shoulders with a couple new players—I just turn my brain off completely when it comes to building my own in-game strategy. That’s because I find it difficult to manage both what I want to do, and what others need to understand in order to enjoy their play of the game. Just when you begin to think through your own turn, a question comes in that breaks your concentration.

For a learning game, totally fine. For this play of The Gallerist, I was pretty excited to get into “the art of strategy,” the game’s tagline.

I quickly became the surly, impatient curmudgeon who rushed through his own turns so that we could simply wrap up the game. By turn four, my main focus became trying to mask my anger, in service of Schmeven, the birthday boy who (I hope) was having a great time just getting a game off the shelf that doesn’t see the table nearly as often as it should.

Maybe two-thirds of the way through our play, Slim was in great shape on the rules and finished off a victory, navigating his own turns with ease. And, to Slim’s credit, he acknowledged the help that was provided by his tablemates during the game. Our play took just over two hours, which in some ways was a miracle.

My only regret? Not doing a full teach of The Gallerist for Slim the moment he acknowledged that he hadn’t played the game in years. Teaching The Gallerist to a new player only takes about 20 minutes—the player aid really is great as a teaching tool—and for a seasoned player with even distant plays under their belt, getting a quick re-teach is usually enough.

It’s also fun to see how I change as I get older. I don’t mind losing, and I’m certainly less competitive than I was ten years ago. But, I do mind waiting. (Yeah, it’s your turn!) If patience really is a virtue, then I guess all I can say for now is that I am working on it!!

by Justin Bell

Late last summer, I had dinner with an industry contact, and we got to talking about life, love, and the pursuit of tabletop happiness over a handsome buffet of cheap prosecco, garden salads, and chicken fingers. (Extra honey mustard, please.)

Eventually, our conversation turned to one of my favorite questions. “What’ve you been playing lately?”

The contact answered with a grin; like many, this contact mostly talked about games that they are not involved with professionally, since industry folks are usually playing games in development at their own company most of the time. One of their answers really intrigued me.

“I’m actually playing one of these games ‘two-handed’ a lot recently. In fact, sometimes on weekends, I pour a glass of wine and intentionally do that with titles that I can’t get to the table with my game groups.”

I paused for a second, making sure I heard this correctly: the contact was intentionally playing multiplayer games as two distinct players, alone?

“That’s right,” they replied. “Sometimes, I like to take longer turns thinking about what I would do as the active player, and it’s easy to imagine playing as someone else in a game that I know really well.”

We moved on, but the thought stuck with me. I digested it along with those tasty tenders, and let the thought marinate for most of the last few months.



As a media member, I “two-hand” review samples all the time, playing as two distinct players to get a feel for how the game plays. I always do this with games I receive that have not been released yet. Designers are often unavailable to teach their upcoming creations directly to peasants like me, so I usually have to grind through a rulebook on my own to learn a pre-production copy (PPC) of a rulebook before a video content creator has been contracted to produce a formal teach video.

Two-handing (or, “dummy-handing”, in my personal parlance) is a necessary tool for my efforts. I take teaching new games seriously, so the two-handed or three-handed plays really help me suss out the potential questions I’m going to face from other players. Usually, though, I don’t two-hand an entire playthrough…I might do two or three rounds in a four-round game, especially in a game that has mid-game scoring elements or pre-round steps that evolve over the course of a longer play.

But intentionally two-handing a game all the way to the end? Playing a game from my collection, for fun, by myself, pretending to be multiple players? I’ll be honest: I never even considered it. These days, half the games I review have a dedicated solo mode that simulates a two-player game, or—in what is becoming my growing preference—automas, geared by difficulty level, that can be added to multiplayer games to simulate a higher player count.

And many of the board games I want to play have a dedicated app or an implementation on Board Game Arena or Yucata, so if I really want to play, say, Race for the Galaxy by myself, I don’t have to two-hand it…I can just pull out my iPad and play against three bots of varying difficulty.

But there is something to the idea of putting a board game on the table, handling the fancy components, and playing a game live. I already play a lot of video games and I already play a lot of app-based board games, so maybe that industry contact was onto something.

I looked in my game closet and considered a couple of games on the Maybe Pile. It was virgin territory for me, playing some of the games in my collection two-handed. The results surprised me.



The current game on the top of the Maybe Pile is Evacuation, the Vladimír Suchý title from a couple years ago. Evacuation is a game I enjoyed when I reviewed it on Meeple Mountain, but it’s a game that has only hit the table once since my review plays in late 2023 when I bought a copy at SPIEL Essen that fall.

Evacuation’s play mode bit is divisive in my circles. Some players only want to play Evacuation in Race Mode, the rule set that is the main play variant in the game’s rulebook, while others prefer Points Mode, where a full four rounds have to be played to determine a winner. But I think the game hasn’t come out as often as I expected because it never got an expansion (not that it needed one, since there are 3-4 game variants and mini expansions included in the base game) and Suchý fans I know prefer some of his other titles, such as Pulsar 2849 and Underwater Cities, over Evacuation.

I decided to embark on a two-handed game night with Evacuation in tow. I passed on the glass of wine, but bourbon was handy. One refresher of the rulebook and I had the rules down again—a compliment, for a game that I hadn’t played in more than two years—and setup was a breeze. I set up a Race Mode game for two players, and I was up and running in just a few minutes.

I went through the motions on my first few turns, in part because I hadn’t played in a while. Evacuation’s big hook is the game’s goal: over a series of rounds, players have to evacuate their population from the “Old World” and settle them on the “New World” on the other side of the main board’s map.

As it turns out, what players REALLY have to worry about is the production level of the game’s three main resources (food, energy, and steel) on both worlds, tracked with three small discs on each player’s personal board. You start the game with a fully-functioning economy, but then you have to break that economy and rebuild it through settlement on the other side of the board…and, fast. All the while, players have to manage an action point system that gets very expensive very fast, as players spend energy from one or both sides of their personal board to get everything done.

That race in the base game mode ends when a player has bumped their three resource trackers to space eight or higher, at which point some final calculations are done to come up with a winner. And since I was playing by myself, I took my time feeling out what I remember liking about the game.

And as I took my turns, trying to build up a profile of what each of the game’s two players should do on their turn, something weird happened…I noticed I was having fun.

Not just a little fun, mind you; I really enjoyed puzzling out the best way to optimize each player’s board. These medium-weight Euros, the ones that feature tech tracks or personal milestones, make playing a game two-handed very straightforward. So, I used the two different sets of technology tiles to drive each player’s strategy.

If a tech gave me production powers for, say, steel, I leaned hard in building more “prefab” steel factories. When a tech gave me an ongoing power that provided additional rewards when I built stadiums—in a funny nod to all things sports, Evacuation provides “happy faces” to players who build stadiums, and each player has to build three stadiums for the New World by the end of the game—I went even harder on building more stadiums for that player.

I tried my best to pretend I was the purple player (purple being my favorite color) and to pretend that the yellow player was my hated rival. Still, I always gave yellow the benefit of the doubt, taking chances to stab the purple player whenever I had the chance. When yellow was the first player at the end of a round (turn order changes only between rounds), I always tried to block purple from getting the best bonuses, the technology upgrades, or the symbols they might need to build new population centers in a future round.

It felt weird to snipe myself…but hey, I’m a two-hander now!

The game experience just got better and better. Whether it was purple’s turn or yellow’s turn, it was always MY turn, so downtime was…zero. I experienced all the highs of putting together a solid plan. I’m not the kind of player that usually suffers through “analysis paralysis”, or AP, so I took my time on some turns and breezed through others. But since no one was waiting on me to finish turns, I never felt the burden of other players looking over my shoulder.

Undoing an action? All good, it’s still my turn, since I’m the only one taking turns! I spent time feeling out how each tech upgrade would benefit future strategy, so it was fun to explore the game in a bunch of different ways, but all during the same game. Having the chance to take so many turns made all the systems click faster, since I had more space to get so much of it wrong.

I had so much fun that, when the Race Mode game was over (Justin beat Justin thanks to a slight edge in minimum production levels), I decided to run it back. For my second play, I did Evacuation in Points Mode, using the Advanced Action variant as well as personal goal cards, which made it even easier to focus both purple and yellow on their distinct strategies.

After setting up the second game, I switched out the nine tech tiles from each player board and swapped in a new set for each player. The Points Mode game went the full four rounds, with yellow taking home a much deserved victory and a greater appreciation for the system Suchý created here. By essentially playing the game four times—maybe it’s better to say that I got to explore the system from four different perspectives, rather than doing four complete plays—I finished with my highest set of production levels and took much better advantage of the advanced action system than in previous plays.

These two plays cemented my belief that Evacuation should stay in my collection. It also left me wondering why I had not tried to two-hand any other games in my collection before now.



As it turned out, that industry contact was onto something.

The ol’ two-hander might have legs. I consider myself lucky to have 3-4 game nights a week with friends and family, but I think I will complain a little less often that I cannot get some of my favorites to the table. Those plays of Evacuation only took about two hours in total, so time certainly was not an issue. I’ve got some favorites that are getting a little dusty on the shelf; carving out time for a two-hander once a month is very easy to do, especially on a weeknight where I want something to do while watching the NBA playoffs in the background.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to spend entire weekends intentionally trying to play a heavy strategy game by myself as two or three other players. But I’m open to salvaging plans to play with other humans by just playing a game by myself instead. On nights where I set something up and players bail last-minute, I’m now a bit more open to the idea of playing that game on my own instead of angrily putting the game away.

A new pile of games is now building, next to the Maybe Pile in the game closet. This pile, the Two-Handed Stack, now serves as an activity to attack solo, especially when the eyes have burned out from staring at a screen for too long.

My early-to-bed in-laws recently spent the weekend, and that meant I needed a couple of quieter activities I could mess with after everyone went to bed…enter the Stack. Sometimes, I want to show the kids new-to-them favorites from the adult game collection, but they get a better offer to hang out with their buddies for another round of Fortnite. All good…I’ve got the Stack. My pile of review copies runs out early each summer, and using review nights to tackle the Stack sounds good to me.

Old dog, new tricks? Sounds like my two-handed game nights for the next few months!

by Justin Bell

“Daddy, can we play Thunder Road: Vendetta?”

One of the rules we have here at Casa de Bell is absolute: if the kids want to play a game from the adult game closet, I always say yes. (There’s only one game off-limits around here: Voidfall. That’s because I’m not teaching it…yet.)

One of the beauties of having kids who are now 12 and 9 is that many of the games in the adult game closet are drifting into the family game closet. As the kids get older, it’s been such a joy introducing new concepts and mechanics that were a bit dense even two or three years ago.

The nine-year-old was the one asking about Thunder Road: Vendetta. He was interested for two main reasons: first, he wanted to play the base game with the Carnival of Chaos expansion, because he loves the arena-style nature of that expansion map.

The second reason is why he really wanted to play: my boy was hoping to have another chance to beat down his dad.

In our first play of Carnival of Chaos, he acquired a “Super-Weapon” called Li’l Sammy, then used said Super-Weapon to shoot down my chopper—normally, choppers are invulnerable—on his way to a dominant victory where he wiped out all my cars.

(Yes, TR:V superfans, you are correct—there is a different scoring system in Carnival of Chaos, tied to “scrap”, the in-game cash that can be earned for damaging opponents. However, my son and I are simple with our approach to this game—the score is all about car kills. He won that first matchup three eliminations to one.)

After his victory, my son spent the next few days gloating about his victory.

At dinner: “Daddy, can you pass me…the Li’l Sammy?”
Before bed: “Hopefully you can beat other players to make up for your loss to me in Thunder Road.”
Walking to school: “I kinda want to play Thunder Road again to see if I can get the Li’l Sammy card. It was so cool shooting down your chopper.”

And on and on. For better or worse, my kids like variety; over the next few weeks, they kept asking to play other games. Weeks turned into months, and while I had the chance to play Thunder Road: Vendetta with other adults during that timeframe, I didn’t break out the expansion again until last week. That’s when my son walked into the game closet, saw the handsome red all-in Maximum Chrome edition copy of Thunder Road, and remembered Li’l Sammy.

“Daddy, can we play Thunder Road: Vendetta? Hopefully, I can get Li’l Sammy again.”

***

After I finished up the work day, I set up the Thunder Road: Vendetta base game with Carnival of Chaos on our kitchen table.

I insist upon using the Choppe Shoppe expansion content. That’s because I—well, now, both my son and I—love using the crew leaders and the car upgrades. The leaders use alternate “command boards”, the dashboard that accommodates each round’s extra die to trigger powers like nitro or the chopper, with asymmetric powers.

My son selected Bumpo the Clown as his crew leader for this play, a spooky-looking character who reminds me of Sweet Tooth from the Twisted Metal car combat games on PlayStation. Bumpo’s power is fine—he can reroll the direction die when his cars move in a slam—but his command board includes the Bump power, which triggers on 6s and allows Bumpo to move the other car on the first slam that turn, even if Bumpo has the smaller car in that slam.

I went with Machine Gun Joe, Esq. to lead my crew. Joe has a somewhat overpowered ability (at least, in the eyes of the nine-year-old, who has a tendency to call everything “OP” if it is not his own powers) to reroll the shoot die once during every attack action.

While I love the crew leaders, the best part about the Choppe Shoppe expansion is the car upgrades. During setup, each of a player’s three cars get outfitted with their own individual powers. For this game, I had a couple of simple upgrades—the Boost Switch, which gave me a +1 on movement, and the Heavy Frame, which grants the assigned car an extra damage slot (three slots instead of the normal two).

But I also had the Onboard Computer, which allowed me to ignore the effects of damage tokens when I assigned it to my large car (The large car is always the one that takes the most damage). So while I would still take damage during the game, it wouldn’t turn ugly, like things tend to do during a Skid or a Blast-Off.

With setup complete, we got rolling. The way the Terrordome (whoops, “Carnival of Chaos”) works, players drive their cars from three different entry-point track pieces outside the arena directly inside, then spend the game navigating pop-up hazards in the form of traps known as “Killer Pillars” that can eliminate cars through various game effects.

Of course, there are other hazards like those pesky opposing cars bent on using all manner of Super-Weapons and their Choppe Shoppe upgrades to take you out. There are a bunch of ways to get wiped out in the ring, and in my experience, games of Carnival of Chaos are a little quicker than the base game, especially at higher player counts.

Thanks to six Super-Weapon tokens scattered around the board, players are always gunning for the best stuff in the game. And while both my son and I were hoping Li’l Sammy would show up so that we could build on its legend, both of us drew cards that represented a bunch of fun toys that we tried to use to take each other out.

Unfortunately for my son, I got my hands on the Super-Weapon goodies first. Sometimes, love is a beatdown.

***

My first Super-Weapon pickup was the BFG…no, not that one. Here, the Big Friendly Gun (complete with a picture of what looks like a big chain gun with a smiley-face balloon on top) deals an extra face-down damage token each time the gun’s owner shoots and hits. I used that to deal two damage to my boy’s small car (the Doom Buggy) on a single turn, making it inoperable.

The Big Friendly Gun made more friends later in the game, when I used it to shut down my son’s medium car, the Avenger. My boy fought back. He grabbed a Super-Weapon token that became the Laser Kebab, which can shoot from the front arc of its assigned car any number of spaces, not just the one-space range of spaces directly in a car’s front arc. He poked holes in two of my cars the next two times he had the chance during his turns from across the arena. Damage, yes, but no inoperable status plays or eliminations.

Slams of inoperable cars into Killer Pillars and a Blast Off that shot one of his cars into the arena walls got me to a place where I was running a 3-on-1 break for the rest of the game. (Thunder Road: Vendetta vets, be honest: isn’t it a blast to watch what happens during a Stunt Die roll of a Blast Off? Goodness gracious, it’s hard to beat those moments in any game!)

Later, I picked up the Auto-Cannon for one of my cars, which lets a player shoot, move, then shoot again. My final Super-Weapon pick-up was the Torsion Dynamo, which removes a car’s guns but guarantees that the opposing car always moves in a slam. (Putting the Dynamo on my small Doom Buggy made that puppy a force!)

None of that mattered though…because as it turned out, I found an opportunity to take out my son’s last car with flair, using maybe my favorite elimination method in the game.

On my final turn, I was able to slam my son’s final car, the Eliminator, forward one space…right into the same space as his chopper, which he had tried and failed to use on his previous turn to take out my medium-sized Avenger.

Any car that ends its turn in the same space as any chopper is automatically eliminated. My son grew up in that final moment, and took his defeat like a man, ending our run of chaos (ahem, Chaos, with a capital C), with daddy taking home a three-to-nothing victory.

Even though Li’l Sammy never reared its ugly head, my son and I had a blast. Chucking those dice and talking a little smack and kitting out our cars and trying, but failing, to use our choppers, nicknamed “Blue Thunder” and “Airwolf” to wipe each opposing set of cars off the grid…it was all kinds of fun, win or lose.

I love playing games with the kids. I’m loving the chances I have now to get in more plays of the games I prefer, creating more memories along the way. And, I don’t mind handing out the occasional beatdown, especially when I can avenge an earlier loss.

That’s because I know what’s coming. The kids love wiping the floor with daddy from time to time, and giving them more chances just means playing more board games.

by Justin Bell

Yep, I get it—two new interview series across back-to-back weeks! (Don’t worry, I’ll be back to sharing random musings with next week’s column.)

I love the work that our team here at BGG puts into Designer Diaries, much of which is driven by the game designers themselves. I especially love reading Designer Diaries after I have played a game that recently got the Diary treatment, to get a sense of why the designers made certain choices during the journey from concept to final production.

In that spirit, I will conduct interviews with the people involved with every other part of the development cycle. A great deal of work goes into making a board game, well beyond just the game’s design. The business of tabletop is fascinating to me, so much so that I count more people behind the scenes (marketing, art, production) as a part of my network than designers, fellow content creators, and gamers. I still meet fans who give the lion’s share of the credit to a game designer for a product making it to market, without realizing how many people collaborate to make those dreams a reality…even in cases where a designer self-publishes a game. It’s quite rare that a game makes it all the way to your hands when only one or two people were involved. It takes a village!

So, let’s talk marketing. Our inaugural piece on the marketing process of prepping a tabletop game features Eveline Foubert, the Marketing & Events Manager at Mighty Boards. I met Eveline a few years ago at a show and we hit it off right away, mainly because of her willingness to talk smack almost nonstop.

We recently had a back-and-forth online, about Eveline’s background, the core audience for Mighty Boards titles, and the upcoming campaign for Yotei, launching on crowdfunding this week.



—----

Justin Bell (JB): I’m always curious to learn how people even find a marketing job in tabletop. How did you get your start with Mighty Boards?

Eveline Foubert (EF): Well actually, I scored my first marketing and PR job in the video game industry about 12 years ago. I was an avid Borderlands gamer, dressed up as CL4P-TP at a local expo (yes, there are photos), and ran into the marketing director of 2K Games! He loved the cosplay so much that we started chatting and eventually he offered me my first internship. From there, I eventually moved on to Electronic Arts, where I worked for a year or two before taking a short break from games. I travelled a bit, worked in the affiliate marketing and tech industry for a while, and eventually ended up in Malta. Five years ago, a mutual friend let me know Mighty Boards was looking for a marketing manager, and it just felt right to get back into the gaming industry!

***

JB: Mighty Boards has been around for a while now. How do you and the team define your core audience? I know that Mighty Boards makes a range of game types, but for this particular campaign, what kinds of players are you going after?

EF: We’ve come to see our core audience as players who appreciate beautiful illustrations, interesting themes, solid game mechanics and strategy. They might not always play on a weekly basis and aren’t necessarily looking for the heaviest games, but they do want something that feels engaging and memorable every time they play. A collaboration with a famous game designer doesn’t hurt either. With Yotei specifically, we’re aiming to reach an even wider audience, including people who are just getting into the hobby, and people who love Japanese games and experiences. Yotei is a game that works really well for both hobby gamers and those who might be newer to modern board games. It sits right at that intersection between accessibility and depth, which is a space we always aim to claim.



***

JB: I know the team works in a glamorous, floor-to-ceiling glass structure similar to a museum like the Louvre. (I’m kidding.) But I do know you sit with the team in Malta. How does that influence the point at which you learn about upcoming titles and begin to get involved in building ideas for your next campaign?

EF: Our office is even better: this little rock in the Mediterranean offers 300+ days of sun per year, so we get to go swim after work and play games on the beach! That being said, the rock is little (compared to mainland Europe), so we get most of our board game news online, through industry connections or at fairs we attend. We spotted Yotei at SPIEL Essen last year and completely fell in love with it. The team at Kumagera put their heart and soul into turning their local town into a board game and it’s hard not to appreciate the charm of Yotei and its people. In fact, Gordon Calleja and David Chircop (two of the principals at Mighty Boards) are in Japan right now, experiencing Hokkaido first hand!

***

JB: I know that a lot of your games go straight to crowdfunding. What success have you had going direct to retail? Is that an option at this stage?

EF: Retail is definitely an important part of our strategy, and we’ve seen solid success bringing some of our games to retail. Art Society was our first big retail project, which became the Game of the Year at Barnes & Noble! This year, Tenby definitely takes the cake. Deciding whether a game goes to crowdfunding or not depends on various factors, like community demand, funding needs and timeline. Crowdfunding is definitely a very big part of our strategy. It plays a key role in building awareness and creating demand early on. It also allows us to build stronger relationships with our community, as we often invite backers to help create a project by deciding on certain components or graphic design used in the games, and gather feedback. For Yotei, we felt a crowdfunding campaign was the right choice, as we can help the Kumagera team reach a bigger audience, and offer a Deluxe Edition that contains exclusive components made with actual Hokkaido wood, locally sourced and produced!



***

JB: I know the Yotei campaign is going live soon after this article goes up. In advance of the launch, what can you tell us about the campaign? And is this another one of those campaigns where there will be stretch goals every 15 minutes, every day, just once, not at all?

EF: Yotei is a Machi building game for 2 to 4 players where you use potatoes as a currency to build the most enchanting Hokkaido town. The game truly brings the charm of northern Japan to your table with gorgeous illustrations by Maria Kato based on real life locations, game design by Huy Pham, and locally sourced wooden components by Kumagera. You’ll buy or bid on fields, forest and mountain plots, and harvest potatoes. You then use your resources to serve ramen, host a potato festival, open a ski resort or a serene hot spring! The game offers a perfect blend of tactics and strategy that gives players a satisfying peek into life in Hokkaido.

We always aim to deliver a strong, complete experience from the start. Of course, there will be some surprises along the way, but the goal is to keep the campaign clear and enjoyable rather than overwhelming. We want backers to immediately understand what the game is and why it’s special. A big part of the campaign will highlight the real-world inspiration behind it, especially the connection to Hokkaido and the people involved in its creation. For Yotei, we will be offering some surprises and limited exclusives in the campaign, made of real Hokkaido wood! You’ll find a schedule of the planned drops and surprises on the campaign page, so you know exactly when to check the campaign page for news!

***

JB: I’m sure you’ve defined the profile for the types of gamers who regularly buy Mighty Boards products. But for the “normie”, the “muggle”, the casual gamer who might be new to crowdfunding…how do you draw them in?

EF: For new players, it’s key to make the experience feel inviting rather than intimidating. Of course visuals play a big role, but clear communication and instructions make backing a game more approachable. From explaining the gameplay, to a step-by-step guide on how to back a game, we aim to lower the barrier to entry so everyone can jump on the crowdfunding train.



***

JB: I remember when you were driving the campaign for one of the Vengeance: Roll & Fight titles, tying it in with the release of a John Wick film. I thought the parallels were perfect for the game alongside the flick, and in a world where thousands of games come out each year, you’ve gotta find a way to stand out. With Yotei and other games you have releasing in 2026, what plans do you have to get creative with spreading the word?

EF: Standing out is definitely one of the biggest challenges right now, as so many great games come out every year! I believe the key is always to try to focus on what makes each game genuinely unique. With Yotei, that’s very much the connection to a real place and the people behind it, which gives us a lot of authentic storytelling opportunities. We’re working closely with the team in Japan to capture that through video, photos, and behind-the-scenes content.

***

JB: For the casual fan—heck, even for the hardcore junkie—what do you wish more players understood when it comes to the ways games are marketed and sold?

EF: A thing people don’t always see or know is how much work goes into bringing a game to life beyond just the design itself. The designers start the magic spark, but the whole team—development, art and graphic design, production, logistics, marketing, sales, events, support etc. all play a huge role in shaping the final product and making sure the players get a great gaming experience. From when a game pitch comes in, based on the amount of work the game and graphic design needs, the fastest turnaround time is usually a full year. Bigger projects, like Fateforge: Chronicles of Kaan, took more than three years to make!

What some people might not realise is that marketing isn’t just about selling a game—it’s about helping the right people discover something they’ll genuinely enjoy. With so many games releasing each year, even great designs can go completely unnoticed without strong storytelling and visibility. A big part of marketing is testing—different messages, visuals, and audiences—to understand what actually resonates. I believe good marketing helps the right players find what they like in a very crowded industry.


Wait a minute...the Enchantress character from the first Fateforge expansion looks...just...like...

***

JB: Be honest: do you play a lot of games? Not Mighty Boards games, but other titles? Or do you separate church and state by not playing games much at all?

EF: I’m a big fan of competitive two-player games, and will never say no to playing Dune: Imperium. I’ve even been dragged into a full day of Twilight Imperium and actually enjoyed it! Last year’s favorites that hit the table on a regular basis were Compile, Cyclades, and Lord of the Rings: Duel for Middle-earth. I try to play on a weekly basis, but I do have to balance my time with other hobbies and outdoor adventures!

***

JB: I have questions about the playlist for this year’s SPIEL Essen booth party…assuming I’m still invited (a major question mark), who do I need to speak with to ensure more hip-hop makes the list in 2026?

EF: ... That being said - we’re bringing some exciting stuff to SPIEL this year! You’ll see For the Gods!, Yotei and the new Art Society expansion, Friends in High Places, on our demo tables, as well as two (!) brand new projects. Trust me, you’re gonna want to keep an eye out 😉