Blog Archives
Daunted: Battle of Britain
Trevor Benjamin and David Thompson’s Undaunted has grown storied over the past half-decade, crossing the beaches of Normandy, the sands of North Africa, and most recently the besieged city of Stalingrad. That last installment proved one of my favorite light wargame experiences of all time, a grueling and personal perspective on the Second World War’s turning point.
Now the series’ fourth major installment is taking us to the skies. I’m trying to decide whether the letdown it fills me with is thanks to the furious pitch and ambitious quality of Stalingrad or because this system is ill-suited to what Battle of Britain is trying to accomplish.
Skipping School
Not many board games make me tired. Sankoré is the rare exception. As a follow-up to Merv: Heart of the Silk Road, it has certainly shed the reservation I felt at the time, that it was a boilerplate nu-Euro with a wonderful action selection system.
This time, Fabio Lopiano, working alongside Mandela Fernandez-Grandon, has crafted a nu-Euro that does everything at once. Too many things at once. After I prepped for its requisite second and third plays, a setup I clocked at twenty-two minutes, everybody filed in and groaned. It’s not a good sign when people are weary before a session has even started.
Werner Placement
Despite its shared parentage, General Orders: World War II comes across as the antithesis of Undaunted: Stalingrad. Where Trevor Benjamin and David Thompson’s magnum opus of the Undaunted line was sprawling and personal, General Orders is a trifle, two heavily abstracted battles that say little about their subject matter, but really doesn’t care to in the first place.
It’s rather good, a few complaints aside.
Space-Cast! #31. An Undaunting Conversation
As befits as large and ambitious a game as Undaunted: Stalingrad, today on the Space-Cast! we’re joined by Trevor Benjamin and David Thompson to discuss WWII, inclusions and omissions in historical games, and whether board games are art — or at least what it means for them to have authorial intent.
Listen here or download here. Timestamps can be found after the jump.
Legacies of Stalingrad
Ever since the form was birthed by Rob Daviau’s Risk Legacy, there’s been a central irony to legacy games — simply put, that their best parts are the things you do when you aren’t playing. Opening envelopes. Marking the board. Tearing up cards. Seeing how this physical artifact will transform before your eyes.
The same is true of Undaunted: Stalingrad, the fourth and most ambitious release in Trevor Benjamin and David Thompson’s much-celebrated Undaunted series, although to a thankfully lesser degree than in other exemplars of the form. This is a gentler legacy title, components-wise; nothing is destroyed over the course of its dozen-or-so session campaign, which can be safely reset upon its conclusion. More importantly, however, it sets itself apart by leaning into the physical terrors of war. By the conclusion of that fateful siege, both its titular city and the bodies of its combatants will have been ravaged by combat. This is a legacy game not only in the sense that it transforms between plays, but also in the way it forces one to confront the scars of war. It transforms, but is also transformative.
Cryptidcurrency
Hal Duncan and Ruth Veevers’ Cryptid had a lovely idea at its core. What if the world’s undusted corners are the habitat of the Loch Nessies and Bigfeet and every other unseen (but much reported) creature? While the game itself didn’t do much to sell the idea that you were documenting actual cryptids, it had cleverness in spades.
Cryptid: Urban Legends doubles down on the idea that you’re chasing a yet-to-be-catalogued creature. Unfortunately, that’s about all it does.
Croissant Moon
There’s an undeniable beauty to script that has yet to be deciphered. I recall watching a street artist pen words in soaring Arabic calligraphy. As a child whose English cursive looked orcish, the artist’s handiwork seemed indistinguishable from magic. The words themselves could have been anything. Whatever they were, they were elevated by the form itself, transferred from paper to some glimpse of a divine image.
Every so often, a board game prompts a similar feeling. Colored inks on shaped cardboard, painted wood in various sizes and arrangements, cards laden with unfamiliar symbols, their combinations speaking to some deeper understanding into which we have yet to be initiated. Crescent Moon, the recent design by Steven Mathers, draws on lush illustrations by Navid Rahman to evoke a world apart. I think I’ve finally decoded its meaning.
Brian “Big Balls” Boru
If I’m speaking the parlance of the youngfolk correctly, Brian Boru was a “chad.” Wait, is that supposed to be capitalized? Like an actual name? Chad? Never mind. Point is, the guy unified medieval Ireland through marriages of alliance, splitting Viking skulls, and something to do with the Church.
But that was literally a thousand years ago. Old news. Much more recently, Peer Sylvester has done something even more impossible — he’s made me care about trick-taking.
Classical Legends, Legendary Classics
A few years back, I took part in an impromptu discussion on how a civilization game might model the will of the people. The issue arose thanks to a question that’s always nagged at me: while civilization games usually cast the player as a near-absolute sovereign, what happens when their subjects diverge from the sovereign’s directives? It isn’t uncommon for soldiers to grow sick of war, farmers weary of farming, pioneers with the treaties that mark where they’re permitted to settle. Revolution and reform are as inherent to civilization as technology or warfare. So why is it that they’re so often rounded down to negative modifiers?
Imperium: Classics and Imperium: Legends, twin titles designed by Nigel Buckle and Dávid Turczi and published by Osprey Games, have an answer.
The Half-Clockwork, Half-Human Merv
Sometimes a single idea elevates an entire design. Take Fabio Lopiano’s Merv: The Heart of the Silk Road, for instance. Viewed from a distance, it might look like a boilerplate modern euro design, crammed full of bells, whistles, and intersecting means of accumulating points. It isn’t until you dig into its heart that the truth becomes apparent. It’s still a boilerplate modern euro crammed with bells and whistles. But it’s a boilerplate modern euro with one heck of an action selection system.
SPACE-BIFF! 