I often see people set up arbitrary goals for culling their board game collections. “If I haven’t played it in a year, I sell it”, is one I’ve seen a lot, and usually, I’d agree with that. Some people revel in having a shelf of shame, a list of games that they are obligated to play next. I once mentioned my shelf of dust games, the games that have gotten at least one play, but it’s been years since the last time I played it. In today’s post, I’m imploring you to keep your games. yes, it’s annoying to store a bunch of boxes that aren’t seeing a lot of play, and perhaps selling old games is what enables you to buy new ones, which is great! You should do what brings you joy! What I want to share today, is the joy that comes from introducing the games that were instrumental to your development in the hobby to someone else.
My daughter is 4 years old, and for the last year or so, we’ve spent about an hour each afternoon playing old-school Mario games together. It started one day when she was sick and laid out on the couch. Instead of putting on Bluey, I chose to play Super Mario 64 on the Nintendo Switch, because I bought the Mario 3D All-stars game while it was available. I don’t understand why Nintendo made this collection a timed exclusive, but apparently now this cartridge is selling on the after market for outrageous prices. What I find fascinating was that I bought the 3D All-stars collection in 2021, and never got around to playing it. I bought it with the intention of finally playing through Super Mario Sunshine, as I never had the opportunity to play it during the Gamecube era, but even after I got my copy of Mario 3D All-Stars, it just sat on my shelf. I considered selling it a few times, when I saw someone else list it on Marketplace for $300, but I’ve always leaned toward the idea that a game on your shelf is worth more than its resale value.
And I’m glad I never sold it. Playing Super Mario 64 was a pretty special time with my daughter. At first, she was content to just watch me play, then one day while I was getting her a snack in the kitchen, I came back to see the controller in her hands, and her running Mario around in circles. Over the next few weeks, she went from just running up and down the paths around the castles, to learning how to jump, to learning how to jump and move at the same time. It was fascinating watching her learn these mechanics. Eventually, she’d explore Peach’s Castle on her own, pick a world, and then pass me the controller for the tougher parts. I loved the joy in her face as I showed her the secrets, like the secret slide behind Peaches window, or the Snow Kingdom hidden in a wall. The way she screamed “WHAT?” when the game showed her something new, something she previously couldn’t comprehend, was a joy to behold.
Nowadays, she’s playing through whole Mario games on her own. I think Galaxy is her favourite, although she does still ask for my help on the really hard levels, or to get through the final gauntlet. She keeps restarting her save file in Mario Wonder, because she likes it better when the wonder seeds have colour, and she keeps getting all the way up to Bowser castle. Of course, she’s using the Yoshi character, who doesn’t die from the enemies on the stage, but more and more often, I’m catching her playing as Peach. She gets frustrated when she dies, but she is learning how to persevere.
Years ago, I was working as a cook, and I overheard two servers talking about a game of Catan they had recently played. I mentioned that I really liked board games too, and had just bought a couple new ones. The next morning, Ali and Mary came over, and we played Sagrada and Carcassonne. They were hooked. They continued to come over every other morning before we all went to work at the restaurant in the evening, and over the course of a few months, we played through every single board game in my entire collection. Eventually, they both moved away, and that little game group fell apart, but I still think back to it now and again. It’s a good thing I held onto some of the lighter games that my hardcore game group aren’t interested in playing very much, because those games became the catalyst for two newcomers into the hobby.
I’m not saying you need to keep every single game you buy, but consider keeping some of those games that are special to you, even if they haven’t seen a play in months, or even years. You never know when life will shift, and the right game on your shelf, the one you haven’t touched in years, might just be the reason someone else falls in love with the hobby. Because sometimes, it’s not about when you last played a game, it’s about who you might play it with next.
Mountain Goats was pitched to me as a competitor to Can’t Stop. Let me be upfront. It’s not. Can’t Stop has pure tension and excitement in the push your luck mechanism. The moments when you’re rolling and rolling and rolling, crawling towards the top, the table chanting to keep pushing, just two more “5’s” and you’ll hit the summit, only to cheer when bust. Mountain Goats on the other hand, is a more directly cutthroat. It’s more deliberate in its malice, relishing in the pain you inflict on others, rather than revelling in your opponents own bad choices. Let me explain.
In Mountain Goats, you’re sending your climbers up six different mountains, one tied to a different die result from 5 through 10. Just like Can’t Stop, you make combinations from four dice, then move the goats to based on those combinations, and slowly (or quickly) climb the numbered tracks. Once you get to the top, you start scoring. Stay there, and you can keep scoring, so long as you continue to sink die rolls into that goat. But if someone else reaches the summit of a number after you, they boot your goat off back to the start. It’s important to note that the only space that you can boot off and get booted from, is the summit, any number of climbers can bide their time on the penultimate tile. So Mountain Goats becomes less about reaching the top and more about reaching it at the exact right moment. Summit too soon, and you’re a sitting goat. Too late, and someone else has already plundered the number for all the points it offers.
Mountain Goats is a game of gentle aggression. It’s king of the hill with goats and pastel dice and a serene backdrop. You’ll constantly scan the table, trying to gauge how close someone is to the of the 9 mountain? Can I afford to park a goat on the 6 and hope for two quiet rounds before someone rushes up and usurps your spot? Or should I spend my time throwing my own goat at their goat, just to keep them from scoring that last 9-point token? This isn’t really push-your-luck, it’s tactical goat placement with some luck elements.
The dice selection is more forgiving than Can’t Stop. You don’t have to pair the dice off, if you roll low, you can choose to use all 4 dice to move a single goat. Similarly, if you happen to roll four 6’s, you can run that number 6 goat up four spots in a single turn. I do like how simple the rules are. You roll, combine, then move. It’s lean and easy to teach, which makes it perfect for family nights, casual settings, or winding down after something meatier.
That said, Mountain Goats falls short for me, especially when comparing it to the thrill ride that is Can’t Stop. There’s less tension, less holding your breath and waiting for your opponent to bust. There’s more straightforward math. Most turns, you’ll just do the best thing your dice allow, and that’s that. You can make choices, deciding which number combo to pursue, or whether to block or take a slightly less efficient turn to earn SOME victory points, but it rarely feels like the game hinges on a specific turn. It’s more about who rolls the numbers they need, when they need them.
And while there is player interaction, it’s narrow. You only knock players off the top tile. You can’t block progress, you can’t deny paths, except for exhausting a number from all its victory points. I’ve found it plays best at 3. Two-player feels oddly slow and open, while four players is too crowded. But even at its best, this is a game that peaks early. You’ll have fun getting one of your goats to the top, perhaps smirk when you punt someone down who just summited the turn prior, then you’ll wait. You aren’t that invested in other players turns, just waiting to see what they choose to do.
Still, It’s a quick dice game in a small box with some actual player agency, and just enough interaction to keep things lively. Mountain Goats earns its spot on the shelf, if only because it’s easily portable, and especially if you need something you can teach to just about anyone in three minutes.
It’s not Can’t Stop. But I can’t haul that plastic stop sign everywhere I go, so Mountain Goats does have something going for it.
Much like Final Fantasy III, Final Fantasy V has been an entry that I have somehow evaded entirely. Going into this title, I knew less than nothing about it. Nothing about the battle system, the characters, anything that makes this entry uniqiue, nothing. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. In fact, the first time I really noticed Final Fantasy V being mentioned was when I was looking up tips for Final Fantasy III, to which most comments said “skip FF3, play FF5. The Job system is much better in that game”
Narrative Recap
Final Fantasy V starts with the nomadic Bartz, riding his steed Chocobo named Boko. A meteor crashes into the Earth, and upon inspecting the damage, he encounters a young noble girl, Lenna, and an amnesic old man named Galuf. The wind has stopped, and Lenna is on her way to the Wind Crystal shrine to investigate. Galuf knows he should accompany her, as he doesn’t remember anything, but he feels in his heart of heart that he should go to the Wind Crystal as well. Bartz, being the hero that he is, says “Good Luck!” and peaces out. Or at least he tries to, when Boko pecks him for abandoning people in obvious need and sends him back to help.
The party tries to commandeer a nearby pirate ship, but quickly get thrown in the brig. Faris, the captain, notices Lenna is wearing a pendant that is the twin to the one they are wearing, and chooses to join them. When the party arrives at the shrine where the crystal of wind sit, it shatters, fragments spraying everywhere. Bartz, Lenna, Galuf, and Faris are deemed the 4 warriors of light, and the shards of the crystal imbue them with a series of jobs to augment their abilities.
From there on, the party goes on an adventure, seeking out the other 3 crystals, all of which shatter and bestow more jobs upon the party. Faris is revealed to be Lenna’s long-lost sister, but spurns the role of princess, more meteors crash into the Earth, and Galuf is revealed to be from another world, transported by the meteors. He came back to Bartz’s world check the seal on the Villain, Exdeath, which has been weakening, perhaps because Cid has invented a machine to utilize the power of the crystal to make the lives of everyone more comfortable and convenient. When the last crystal shatters, Exdeath is released from his seal, defeats the party, and returns to his homeworld.
Galuf’s granddaughter, Krile, arrives via meteor, and Galuf’s memory is completely restored. He and Krile return to their own world to continue chasing down Exdeath, and with little hesitation, the rest of the party follow to Galuf’s world. They are tricked in defeating the guardians of the crystal in Galuf’s world, and Galuf sacrifices himself to defeat Exdeath and save his friends and granddaughter. Krile inherited Galuf’s abilities, and the party chases down Exdeath, defeating him and merging the two worlds. Exdeath, however, returns, and takes control of the Void, destroying whole towns with his new power.
The party finds four tablets, which unlock the 12 legendary weapons. Armed with the weapons of lore, they travel into the Void, defeat all of Exdeath’s minions, then slay Exdeath at the end, once and for all.
Story and Gameplay
Final Fantasy V’s story is full of twists and turns. The game moves from set-piece to set-piece, using cutscenes to deliver the narrative. There is a current of light-hearted humor running through this game, and the sprites are dynamic and excitied, creating a fairly funny game. That said, some of the scenes are heavy, like when Faris’s hydra, Syldra, dies. Faris tries to follow her into the ocean, but Lenna pulls her back, or a flashback revealing that Lenna almost cut out the tongue out of a wind drake to save her mother from illness, but doing so would have doomed the entire species. Final Fantasy V excels at delivering both heavy, emotional moments, and light-hearted laughs.
While the playable party is set almost right from the beginning, Square Enix obviously took a lot of lessons from the past few games in developing this tale. Each of the main characters have their own motivations, their own flaws, their own priorities. Unlike in Final Fantasy IV where a large cast of characters filtered in and out of your party at almost a break neck pace, Final Fantasy V sits you with the same characters almost from start to finish (with the exception of Galuf getting swapped out for Krile). Where FF4′s characters were pre-established in their skills and equipment, FF5 returns the freedom to the player to kit out their party with whatever jobs, skills, and gear they want to use. With over 20 jobs to choose from, You’re given wide options almost right away.
One of my frustrations with Final Fantasy III was the fact that you didn’t unlock a second set of jobs until almost 12 hours into your adventure. Final Fantasy V wastes no time in giving you the first 6 jobs. Then, just when you’ve had a chance to test each one out, more jobs get heaped upon you. The Job system is very remincient of Final Fantasy Tactics Advance (which I’m sure I’ll touch on at some point on my Final Fantasy journey), whereas you gain ability points in specific jobs, you ‘learn’ skills. Once skills are learned, you can mix and match them with other jobs. It’s quite nice to see the system that inspired one of my favourite video games of all time.
The skills are separated into innate abilites, and actions. While a character is equipped with a job, all the innate abilities for that job will be active. They have one job action that is preset, and one open slot where they can enter in any skill they’ve learned so far, should it be an innate ability from a different job, or another action ability. I had one character designated as the mage for the party, swapping back and forth from white to black mages, making basically a red mage, but with access to the top tier magic of both types. Another character was a time mage/summoner. Perhaps more interestingly, one character was a knight, who can use the ability two-handed to hold a single sword in both hands for more power. He brought that Knight ability to the Mystic Knight class, who can imbue swords with magics for even more power. This character didn’t hit often, but when he did, and there was a elemental weakness to exploit, he did some massive damage.
This freedom was exciting, as was discovering which jobs worked really well together. In kind of the opposite example from the mystic knight, one character specialized as a ranger, earning the ability Multi-hit, which delivers a blow at 50% the characters normal power, but does so 4 times. Then they swapped into a Ninja, who had double hand. While welding a sword in both hands, that multi-hit was doing 50% damage, 8 times. There were a few bosses that fell after only two rounds of my heavy damage dealers really unleashing upon then.
The job system culminates with the Freelancer position, which is the basic class you have at the start of the game. This job can equip any weapon or gear, and has 2 open ability slots, but what really makes the freelancer the end-game job, is that they inherit all the passive abilities from every job you’ve mastered, plus some associated stat buffs, leaving those two slots available for any two action abilities. There’s also the Mime job, which is similar, but has 3 actions slots, and a lot more restrictions on what they can equip. In general, I found that magic-forward characters benefit from the Mime, while physical characters go freelancer.
It took a long time for anyone to master a job, as for the first 75% of the game, battles only give you one or two AP each. In the final dungeons, however, the AP is boosted to 5 per battle, and in the Phoenix Tower, you encounter a magic jar enemy that you can throw elixirs at, and receive 100 AP from, massively assisting you in mastering any job. Before getting to the Phoenix tower at the very end of the game, however, each character had mastered naught but a single job. The progress felt slow during the game, I wondered how the heck I would ever make a freelancer work, but by the time I had my final encounter with Exdeath, I was quite satisfied with how my party had come together.
Conclusion
While Final Fantasy IV has long been firm in my heart as my favourite Final Fantasy game, with its focus on Cecil’s redemption story and half a dozen well crafted characters that drove a serious narrative, Final Fantasy V captivated me in a completely different way. Through experimentation, customization, and the joy of mechanical discovery. The story, while more playful and looser than its predecessor, still managed to land its emotional beats when it really counted. The real star of Final Fantasy V is the Job system. It’s the kind of game that invites you to poke at its edges, get intreagues, then dive in deep and watch in delight as some ridiculous combo absolutely demolishes a boss just two rounds. I went into this experience knowing absolutely nothing, and came out with a feeling that Final Fantasy V deserves a spot at the table, when discussing the best that Final Fantasy has to offer.
In many ways, Final Fantasy V feels like a celebration of freedom. It takes the ideas crafted in III and hands you the tools right at the start. That spirit of freedom and personalization so prevelent in the first 3 games, mixed with some now experienced story-tellers, makes FInal Fantasy V the most purely fun entrie I’ve played so far.
As I close the book on Final Fantasy V, I’m struck by how well all of these early games are holding up. Not just as historical artifacts, but as compelling, thoughtful experiences in their own right. With Final Fantasy VI next on the horizon, a game that is constantly at the very tip top of “Best Final Fantasy Games” and “Best JRPGs Ever” lists, I’m feeling trepadacious. I’m excited to re-experience FInal Fantasy 6 with the context of all the games that came before it. And it’s been at least a decade since I played it for the first time, anyways. I’m very curious to see what twists they introduce to really differentiate it from FF4 and FF5.
Unless you’re reading The Last March of the Ents, trees are not often associated with violence. In most media, forest scenes are often accompanied by slow woodwind instrumentals, quiet moments of reflection, with gentle, babbling brooks nourishing the woodland animals who happen to be passing by. Nature, however, is far from protective and nurturing. It’s ruthless, amoral, and truly neutral. And yet, if I had a nickel for every cutthroat tree game in my collection, I’d have two nickels. Which is not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.
Photosynthesis by designer Hjalmar Hach and published by Blue Orange Games in 2017 is deceptively gentle. You’re growing trees. How bad can growing trees be? You earn light points when your trees bask in the sun and spend those light points to cast seeds, grow trees, and eventually “harvest” your most majestic specimens for victory points. It’s the circle of life, in cardboard form.
The central hook of Photosynthesis, the rotating sun, is quite an elegant mechanic. The sun moves along the edge of the forest board, changing the direction the sun is shining down at, so with every turn, the tactical landscape changes. What used to be covered in light is now cast in shadow. The trees that earned you so many light points just a few rounds ago, are now fallow and useless. I don’t know if you picked up on this rule, but trees cast shadows, and any tree sitting in the shade of a bigger or same size tree does not earn light points. So not only are you plotting your trees and their shade patterns to maximize your light point generation, you’ll be purposefully trying to shade your opponent’s trees, to deprive them of the light they need to flourish.
There’s a moment, somewhere around the start of the second revolution, where you look down at the board, past the whimsical canopy of cardboard evergreens, and realize you’ve become the thing you despised: a cutthroat botanical tyrant. You didn’t mean for this to happen. You were drawn in by the colours. Seduced by the promise of a quiet, serene forest, the relaxing energy of trees basking in the sunshine as you sit in their shadows. But then the sun moves, and your opponent’s prize sapling suddenly casts a long, greedy shadow across half the grove, and you feel something twist in your heart. That’s not just shade, that’s purposeful sabotage. And you swear. Out loud. At a cardboard tree.
People generally come to Photosynthesis with one of two minds. They either want to maximize their own light, or, purposefully, try to minimize the light their opponents get. You’ll find yourself stunting enemy trees on purpose, planting your own just to create shade in exactly the right spot. Not because you need the space, but because it’ll choke out a rival’s main income. I’ve ended friendships for smaller things.
Mechanically, Photosynthesis is as sharp as a monkey puzzle tree. It’s totally deterministic, with absolutely no luck involved. It’s all down to planning. It’s the kind of game where misreading the board state two turns ahead will leave you gasping for light while it feels like else is rolling in solar power. The rules themselves are straightforward, the rulebook is only 4 pages long. But the decisions Photosynthesis offers are dense. It’s chess-like at two players, while being crowded and choking at four. It feels like a different game at every player count.
I do want to mention that the process for buying and growing trees feels a little disjointed. You collect sun points on the south end of the board, but the trees on the north end are the ones that grow? You can’t grow trees unless you unlock them from your player board, and when you replace pieces on the main board, the pieces go back into the locked spots on your player board. There are some interesting cadence decisions, as the size of the tree determines how many light points it collects, but only the biggest trees can be harvested for points. You finally finish your 7 turn project just to pay light points to lose your ability to earn more light points. The timing considerations are intense.
And while I admire the no-luck, pure strategy design, There’s always the potential of someone getting the short end of the proverbial stick. Bad starting positions and cutthroat players can kneecap someone’s ability to earn sunlight for most of the rounds. While everyone else is pulling in 7, 8, or 9 sunlight, one person is only bringing in 1 point. When you have no income, you can’t pivot your strategy. The rich get richer in the worst sort of way.
And then there’s the downtime. Especially at higher player counts, because the game is so deterministic, every turn can become a grind of analysis paralysis. The board state shifts constantly, And because turns are solitary, as in, one player takes all their actions for the round, then the next player goes, players can be considering 5 or 6 actions at a time. You’ll spend a lot of time in silence waiting for someone to make their decisions, before you start considering what you can do, based on what they just did.
If it sounds like I’m being down on Photosynthesis, it’s not on purpose. It’s clever, elegant, and unique. The aesthetic is gorgeous. It’s the rare abstract strategy game that has a genuine presence on the table. It looks like a dream and plays like a knife fight in a phone booth. I quite enjoy my plays of it, even if I come away feeling like I fell from a height and hit every branch on the way down.
Let’s get one thing out of the way: nothing replaces the tactile joy of sitting at a table with your friends, shuffling cards, rolling dice, and pushing cubes. Or the sense of satisfaction you get when you make the game winning move and everyone at the table reacts to the stunning conclusion (more on that in a later post). But sometimes… sometimes… playing a board game on Board Game Arena (BGA) is just better.
Obviously, I’m not talking about every game. Some games lose their soul when you take away the physical components. But for a surprising number of my favourite games, BGA isn’t just a convenient alternative, it’s become the preferred way to play. Why? Automation. Speed. Clarity. No setup or tear down. No rules mistakes. No cheezies fingers mucking up my cards. Let me elaborate down some of the reasons why BGA elevates the game playing experience.
Why BGA Elevates Certain Games
1. Automation
Setup? Immediate. Scoring? Instant. Shuffling? Never worry about someone with sleight of hand techniques again. Have one friend who insists on rolling dice ON the board, knocking tokens around everywhere? Gone. For games where the fiddly upkeep of tracks and chits can bring your game to a crawl, BGA does the heavy lifting. Memoir ’44, for example, is notorious for its elaborate setup. On BGA, you just click “Start.” The same goes for Sushi Go, where shuffling and managing hands as you draft can slow things down IRL. What about 7 Wonders and trying to figure out how many guild cards go into age 3, or how many points you earned with 12 green science cards? Online, it’s as smooth as butter.
How do the tiles get refreshed in Applejack? Don’t know. It just happens.
2. Enforced Rules and Quick Turns
Games with short turn structures or simple mechanics absolutely shine on BGA. Sushi Go, Azul, and Can’t Stop are pick-up-and-play affairs that run lightning-fast when the platform handles the admin. Want to knock out three games under half an hour? BGA is the way to do it! The platform can also be helpful when learning a new game, from having scripted tutorials, to letting you try to click on everything and ensuring you aren’t accidentally cheating by holding extra resources when you try to undo a turn. As the rules teacher for my group, it is a nice break to have something else keep everyone else’s game in check, so I can focus on my own strategies.
3. Visual Aids and Accessibility
One of the best features of BGA is hover-over explanations. No more searching indexes and appendices for specific cards only for the index to say the exact same thing on a card. Hover over a card in Race for the Galaxy and boom, you know exactly what it does. In Castles of Burgundy, you don’t need to flip through a player aid to decode building effects, It’s all right at your fingertips.
4. Asynchronous Play = Board Games Every Day
Honestly, this is the reason I’m on Board Game Arena in the first place. I generally only have one game night a week, making the rest of the week a slog when I can’t engage with my favourite hobby. Board Game Arena lets me play board games all week long with asynchronous games. At this moment I have 9 games on the go with different groups, meaning throughout the day I get happy little emails letting me know that it’s my turn and I get a tiny board game hit throughout my day.
One of my friends really loves the asynchronous play, as it lets them sit and puzzle over the board state without other players heckling you to take your turn faster. Being a moron, I don’t benefit from this feature, but if you’re of average intelligence, perhaps this is a boon for you too.
It’s also worth mentioning that for a lot of heavy games, they don’t hit my table very often. So many complex games competing for table space with my one game night a week means that a great, but heavy game like Carnegie or Praga Caput Regni can go years between replays. But on BGA, there’s no time limit, so I’m content to take my one turn each day and still get to play with some of my favourite systems.
5. SO MANY BOARD GAMES & So Many Players
At the time of writing there are 1087 games available to play on Board Game Arena. With another 150 in alpha and at least one new game hitting the platform every week, you’ll never be wanting for games as long as you’re on the platform. Sure, specific games are missing, such as Splotter’s Food Chain Magnate(but it’s available online at Online Board Games) or Stephan Feld’s The Oracle of Delphi (available on Yucata though). As long as you’re willing to pony up the $48 (CAD) per year for the premium membership (or have a friend who’s subscribed start all your games for you), you’ll always have something new to play.
Alongside those 1,000+ board games, there are over 10,000 members connected at almost any time. Of course the players online ebbs and flows as the sun sets on the North America region, there are a lot of very active communities on BGA, offering opponents on almost any game.
Hot Picks: Games That Truly Shine on BGA
Let’s run through some specific examples where the digital version arguably outperforms the physical one.
Race for the Galaxy
Symbology cheat sheet built in.
Zero shuffle fatigue.
Games finish in under 10 minutes. Seriously.
Active player base
Ticket to Ride
Destination tickets auto-highlighted.
Instant route scoring.
Trains tracked visually and accurately.
Can’t Stop
Dice roll mechanics are 100% automated.
Just click and go. No math, no mistakes. No staring at the dice searching for something that you can use.
Memoir ’44
Setup and scenario prep handled for you.
Dice rolls animated but quick.
Great for casual or solo play without the hassle.
Azul
Fast turns, clear interface.
No need to track discarded tiles.
No cleanup afterward, redistributing tiles is instant.
Praga Caput Regni
Firehose of resources and benefits? Auto-calculated.
Notoriously long and complex games feel almost breezy when you don’t need to manage all the rules on your own.
Lost Ruins of Arnak
No more sprawling piles of resources, or trying to fit the giant board on a small table.
Resource tracking, deck management, and hover-over tooltips are a dream online.
Railroad Ink / Welcome To
Drawing and smudging your previous turns? Not a problem with you just click
Play a full game with multiple players in 10 minutes or less.
Castles of Burgundy
Full board visibility at a glance.
Hover for explanations on every building tile.
Clicking a die highlights everything you can do with that die
Pick your art version! Different players can have different art sets applied.
Feast for Odin
No more bits flying everywhere (especially if you have cats).
Pieces on your board don’t accidentally shift one space to the left because you have sausage fingers (might just be a me problem)
Great for large-table games in small-table homes.
7 Wonders Duel
BGA does all the resource calculations for you
Never be confused if a card shifts slightly in the pyramid and wonder which other cards it’s supposed to be covering up.
Final Thoughts
Look, I love my physical games. I love punching tokens from their cardboard sprues, re-boxing expansions, and pushing cubes up tracks with friends in person. Given unlimited time and money, I’d choose to play in meat space every single time, every single night. Unfortunately, I live in reality, and so given the opportunity to not spend 45 minutes setting up Carnegie, I’m going to take that chance. I love not doing math in my head every round of 7 Wonders Duel. And I especially love not sweeping up tiny cardboard chits after a cat decides the Feast for Odin board is her new bed.
So here’s my hot take: for many games, especially those with heavy setup, math, or intense iconography, BGA isn’t just a backup, it’s the proper way to play.
Try it. You might just find your favourite game plays even better when the computer handles all the boring and tedious bits.
