Azul, by designer Michael Kiesling, was released to the world in 2017. A puzzly little abstract game, it was an instant hit in the board gaming world. That same year, at the exact same time from my perspective, Sagrada, a puzzly little abstract game was also released, and much like the console wars of my childhood, I picked a side (Sagrada), and heckled the other team, for no good reason other than base tribalism. But here we are 8 years later, and I’ve finally come around to sing Azul’s praises

Over the years, Azul‘s continued popularity has only grown, and I’ve really come around to seeing how great this game is. With several more games building off the core concept, including Azul: Stained Glass of Sintra, Azul: Summer Pavilion, Azul: Queens Garden, and Azul: Duel. Now, I’ve played all these spin-offs, and I can say that the original Azul is my favourite, so today I’m going to dig into what makes this game so special.

In Azul, players are trying to build a wall. The rulebook says that Portuguese king Manuel I was struck by the beauty of the Moorish decorative tiles in the Alhambra, that he ordered his own palace to be decorated with similar wall tiles, but the theme doesn’t exactly shine through the gameplay here.

The gameplay of Azul has a number of coasters set onto the table in a circle, and 4 tiles pulled from a bag and placed on each one. On your turn, you chose one of the coasters and take all the tiles of one type to place into your staging area on your player board. Any tiles you didn’t take, get pushed to the centre of the table, which is another location you can choose to take tiles from.

Once all the tiles have been taken, any rows in your staging area that have been completed flow onto your finished wall, from top to bottom. When you move a tile to the finished side, it earns you 1 point for every connected tile on the X axis, and another point for every tile on the Y axis. There are also some bonus points for finishing each row, column, and for getting a colour in all 5 rows.

A couple restrictions to be aware of, though. If you already have a colour finished in a row, you can’t add a colour to that row again. If you take a bunch of tiles and have more than the row can allow, they ‘fall to the floor’ and are worth negative points. A game of Azul comes to an end when one player has completed a single row.

Azul is deceptively simple. It starts off by looking like a no interaction abstract puzzle, but as you dig deeper into the game, you start to find the ways to manipulate situations to your advantage. It only takes one time getting saddled with nearly a dozen black tiles when all of your rows are spoken for to teach you that you need to pay attention to what the others are doing.

Your staging area dynamically shrinks and expands as tiles are left over from round to round, as the rows only empty at the end of a round in which that row was full. I’ve seen players end a round with 4 of their 5 rows one tile away from being complete, and being utterly choked for the entire next round.

Azul isn’t Calico, where you can spend most of the game with your head in your hands staring at your own board. It requires you to be aware of what your opponents want, and for you to seize your opportunities the moment they arrive. There are plenty of opportunities to hate-draft precious tiles away from your opponents, or saddle them with excess baggage. Playing Azul well is as much as getting the tiles you want as it is denying your opponents the tiles they need.

But all this meanness, all this punishment, is below the surface of Azul. For a beginner, the tiles available to them are random, and building pretty little patterns is a delightful way to pass the afternoon. It’s pretty impressive, really, that Azul manages to appeal to such a wide audience with its ease of gameplay, while also having a deep tactical pool to plumb, for those willing to do so.

I like Azul a lot. More than I ever expected to, and maybe even more than Sagrada, if I’m honest with myself. It’s elegant without being cold, interactive without being overwhelming, and welcoming to anyone who can appreciate a handful of pretty tiles. It’s the rare abstract game that grows with you; gentle for newcomers, sharp enough for veterans, and endlessly replayable in between. When you finally build that perfect wall to earn 10 points on a single placement, it feels like a masterful stroke of genius. Azul has earned a permanent place on my table, but if you haven’t encountered the meanness inherent in the tiles, be prepared to feel the sting of betrayal when you finally do.