Blog Archives
Vampire/Werewolf/Witch/Demon Village
Vampire Village is not about building a village for vampires — and thank goodness, after the blandness that was SiliconVania. Instead, it whisks us to exotic Central Europe, where the crossroads of the west have attracted a veritable convention of vampires, werewolves, witches, and demons to feast on the citizens of your hamlet. Not the best spot for a thriving community, but the schools were good. Designed by Maxime Rambourg, half of the team behind The Loop, it’s a hate-drafting game with surprising bite.
In Case You Didn’t Get Enough Zoom
It’s the future. Plague and government neglect have caused humanity to retreat into the virtual world. No, I’m not talking about the COVID lockdowns of 2020. Fate dictates that we’re going to do it all over again in 2047 — although apparently this time the Metaverse won’t turn out to be such a deflated whoopee cushion.
Based on a film I haven’t seen but redolent of well-worn cyberpunk tropes, Virtual Revolution is the brainchild of Guy-Roger Duvert, who both wrote and directed the movie, penned a prequel novel, and has now designed the board game. I’m wary whenever an author adapts their fictive world to cardboard; a talent in one medium doesn’t often translate into another. Imagine my surprise, then, to discover that Virtual Revolution is a worthy non-virtual plaything.
Olé Olé Oltréé
Oltréé shows its genealogy in its cheekbones. Now working with co-designer John Grümph, this is Antoine Bauza’s third take on the besieged fortress, completing an arc that began with Ghost Stories and continued with Last Bastion. Like those titles, Oltréé is about weighing odds and uprooting danger, working cooperatively to turn the tide. Unlike them, the siege has been more or less broken before your arrival on the scene. Those anticipating a stiff challenge need not apply.
Necrarium
Sometimes when playing a board game, I simply have no idea what’s happening. Not necessarily because the game is complicated — although sure, that happens too — but because the game doesn’t bother to string together its bones with connective tissue.
Take Vivarium by Frédéric Vuagnat, for example. Vivarium is about exploring a hitherto undiscovered continent brimming with amazing creatures, uncategorized plants and minerals, and zero complications from colonialism. In exploring this new land, explorers select their discoveries from a grid by matching dominoes. Why dominoes? I couldn’t tell you. Presumably the publisher had a few extra pallets of dominoes hanging around at the warehouse.
A Deodorant for Excessively Hairy Men
“Northgard” sounds like a deodorant brand. Probably one that smells of pine needles and draugr leather. Northgard: Uncharted Lands, on the other hand, is the latest adaptation of a video game that happens to be considerably more competent than its bastard offspring. Based on Norse mythology in the loosest sense, players are tasked with leading a clan to preeminence. Mostly this consists of exploring terrain, fighting monsters, fighting other Vikings, fighting the winter, and never once setting foot on a boat.
At times, bits of flint shine through the muck. The rest of the time, it’s gone to mud.
The Trance of Trick-Taking
Longtime readers know my blind spots. Trick-taking is a big one. My wife grew up with trick-takers. They were a regular family activity, so she learned their rhythm: the subtle tells, the contrasting modes of pressure and conservation and cooperation, the possibility of someone running away with a hand. When we try a new trick-taker, it doesn’t matter how different or innovative or oddball it happens to be — she settles back in like it’s the same game she’s played a hundred times before.
Shamans, the trick-taking game by Cédrick Chaboussit, falls into the oddball category. But despite a few departures from the normal template, it’s the first time I’ve slipped into the trancelike mindset of the trick-taker.