At the time of writing this, I was also working on my Knarr review, and in that review I reflected on how my gaming tastes have pulled back from playing really heavy games. Then the opportunity to play Indonesia came up, and I was instantly excited. Splotter’s Food Chain Magnate has been my favourite game for years, yet it’s the only Splotter game I’ve ever played.
I dove into the rule book and was instantly dismayed. A text heavy black and white PDF from 2006. I was reminded of Iberian Gauge that I played recently, and how the rule book is a 2-page leaflet. The nice thing about Indonesia is that, like Food Chain Magnate, the actual rules are only 8 pages long, which is pretty bearable
Let’s set the stage. Indonesia is a game about getting rich. Yes, you’ll acquire companies, produce and ship goods, and even merge companies. But the goal of the game isn’t necessarily to sell the most items, the goal is to get the most money. The game is played over 3 eras, and each era consists of a number of years. Every year goes through 7 steps, which allows players to bid for turn order, merge existing companies, acquire new companies, improve their powers via research & development, operate all the companies they own, and finishing off with some city growth.
Indonesia is a big game, and I’m not going to list all the rules out right here, but the two big parts of the game is the mergers, and the operation phases. In the merging phase, any player can choose to merge any company, provided they have a sufficient merge skill, and have the capacity to take the company on (which is based off the slots’ skill, both skills are able to be improved during the R&D phase). The merge is a fascinating moment, because the minimum bid for a merge is the value of the good the company produces (Rice is 20, spice is 25, rubber is 30, oil is 40) multiplied by the total number of plantations of the two companies being merged. Then, bids must be increased in multiples equalling the number of plantations. As an example, if you’re merging two rice companies, one a size three and one a size 5, the starting big will be 8 times 20, so $160, and all bids must go up in multiples of 8, so $168, $176, $184, etc.
Any player who has an open slot can bid on this merger, which makes it a great way for players to steal opportunity from each other. The real challenge comes from how each player values the company. When someone wins the bid, they pay out the money to the now ex owners of the newly merged companies. In the above example, if the winning bid was $184, the player who had the company consisting of 3 rice plantations would get 3/8ths of the bid, so $69, and the player who owned the company consisting of 5 rice plantations would get the remaining $115. Obviously, winning a bid where you didn’t previously own one of the two companies proves to be a huge expense, but these companies also hold tremendous potential, as you’ll operate the whole thing during the next operation phase. This also has potential to be absolutely brutal, as when you pay out a huge sum of money to acquire a merged company, the next player can call a new merger on a new pair of companies, knowing that you are now cash poor.
The next big phase of the game is the operations phase, where each player chooses to operate one of their companies. Production companies produce one good for every plantation, then must sell as much as possible to cities around the board, earning money for each sale. Goods must travel by boat, and for every boat travel that happens, the owner of the shipping company gets $5 from the sale of that good. This is another potential for aggravating situations, as if a company can sell, it must sell, so if a player manages or orchestrate a lengthy chain of boats connecting a distant city to a plentiful plantation, it’s completely reasonable for the owner of the plantation to lose money on the sale as shipping fees drive the company into the red.
Splotter games are fairly infamous, and for good reason. Now, I’m not an expert on Splotter, I’ve only played 2 of their games, but what Food Chain Magnate and Indonesia share is a robust game system that tasks players with seeing through the opacity of the system to squeeze out a profit, and highly interactive gameplay. Everything every player does affects you in some way, and you need to be paying attention to what the other players can do, as if you’re not careful, someone will eat your lunch right out from under you. And in a game of Indonesia, a skilled player will absolutely steamroll novices.
Indonesia is a remarkable economic game. Published in 2006, playing it felt like a robust experience. Companies shifted ownership, all players had moments of being flush with cash, and being nearly destitute. None of us were experienced with the game, and we all grappled with how to play the game well. I suspect that none of us improving our expansion trait beyond the second level was a mistake, and we all struggled with how to value companies. It was fun to lock eyes with another player and perpetually increase the bid for the companies into nearly unfathomable heights. It was exciting when one player took over most of the shipping on the entire board for the final round, although it wasn’t enough to for that player to win. I can see Indonesia becoming one of our favourite economic games, as there were tones of player agency. Never did any of us feel like the game was being unfair, that something other than our own poor planning stymied our progress. We were the masters of our own destiny, the authors of our own demise.
It’s also surprisingly simple. As I said above, 8 pages of rules, and considering how deep and interesting the economy is in Indonesia, that’s a feat to be lauded. All the phases are pretty simple (except for mergers), and turns generally flow fairly quickly. Once our players had a plan in their heads, we didn’t stall on turns very often.
All that said, Indonesia is rough on the eyes. The cities are glass beads, the cards that tell each player where they can place a city at the start of each age are just little slips of paper. The plantation chits are too big for some of the small provinces, the lines on the map can be unclear in many places, and the font used on the map is nearly unreadable. The production of Indonesia leaves a lot to be desired. I’m no UI/UX designer, but there has to be so many ways that the user experience can be improved with Indonesia. Thankfully, a 3rd edition is on its way, with a fairly massive graphical overhaul. I can’t wait to see what the new edition looks like.
If you’ve played a Splotter game, you should kind of know what you’re getting into when you sit down to another one. A complex game of tight decisions, where mistakes are fatal. If you like Splotter games, you’ll probably like Indonesia. If you dislike what Splotter has done before, I doubt this will change your mind. As for me, I still prefer Food Chain Magnate. Part of that is surely familiarity, and the theme of fast food chains is infinitely more interesting in my estimation. My two gaming partners, on the other hand, said they would hands-down play Indonesia over Food Chain Magnate. Part of it is the novelty of a new system to explore and exploit, but another part of it is that it feels less punishing. The decisions you’re making are smaller in scope. The companies spawn in predetermined locations, you can’t shoot yourself in the foot too terribly, like a dumb restaurant placement in FCM does.
I enjoyed my play of Indonesia, and considering one of our gaming friends was absent during our play, we’ll likely play it again soon. I am curious to how different the game will feel with an extra player, and how our map will develop differently. There’s no scaling for player count, so I expect that we’ll all be poorer throughout the experience. Hopefully I find the replayability interesting, as there is no content discovery here. The only replayability comes from interacting with the game system, and forcing my opponents into less than ideal mergers and executing hostile takeovers.
Over the last 6 months, my table has been somewhat inundated with the works of Vladimír Suchý. This wasn’t entirely on purpose, but his games have just happened to come into our possession. Last night (at time of writing) I played my 5th game of his, so I felt the urge to make a quick list of the games I’ve played, and their rankings!
First, what makes a Suchý game, a Suchý game? I find that Vladimír Suchý’s key trait in the games of his that I’ve played are twofold. An interesting action selection mechanism, and a tight turn economy. Suchý games are not ones that let players take 50 turns, instead players need to figure out how to squeeze blood from a stone, where missing out on a single resource could be catastrophic to their game experience. But let’s talk about the games in detail below! As always, my top lists are completely subjective and are likely to change with time, and take this whole list with a pinch of salt as (except for Underwater Cities) I’ve only played each of these games once.
5 – Evacuation
Evacuation is a bit of a tragedy, in that I was so excited to play this game. From the first moments I saw the preview images of two planets snaked by a winding track, and heard the theme of ‘the old world is dying, players need to disassemble their engine from the old world and transport it to the new world’, I was frothing at the mouth with excitement. The mere concept of shipping goods between planets and needing to manage when to take down a fabrication plant on the old world and establish one on the new world was fascinating.
In play, however, we found that the shipping goods aspect of the game fairly dull and uninteresting. We did not play the race mode, opting to play for points instead, which may have been a folly. Evacuation plays over 4 rounds, and ships only move between planets at the end of each round. This means each ship you buy can be used twice in the game. In our experience, the old world was fairly lush with resources, so it felt more action efficient to just build new ships and send them over, leaving a graveyard of one time use rockets on the new world. The points mode lets the game go the full four rounds, and by the end of the final round, all of our productions on the new world skyrocketed, and we all pretty much completed everything that we set out to do.
That said, I really loved the asymmetric tech tree each player gets to grapple with, and there were tonnes of interesting decisions to make throughout the game. Evacuation sits at the bottom of my list, but it’s the game that I want to return to the most. I’m sure there are hidden depths for me to plumb, and it surely has the potential to rocket up this list.
4 – Pulsar 2849
Pulsar 2849 is probably the least memorable game on this list. Not to say it’s a bad game, heck, even Evacuation sitting at the bottom of the list is still a super rad game. It’s just hard to remember all the nuance that makes Pulsar 2849 special.
Pulsar 2849 is a dice drafting game where players are setting out to harness the powers of the stars. The action selection mechanism is driven entirely by dice, and there’s even a neat aspect where you need to find the median dice available, and taking dice on either side of that median has some effects.
This is the game that I remember the least well, as Pulsar 2849 has a lot going on, and it’s been a few months since I played it. I remember liking it, but not loving it (you’ll notice it didn’t make it onto my top 100 list). Pulsar 2849 is absolutely a game worth checking out if you like bigger space games with lots of decisions, and when dice power the action selection mechanism.
3 – Woodcraft
The cover of Woodcraft camouflages a complex game with a tranquil wrapper. You’d be forgiven if you saw the brightly coloured forest nymphs cheerfully toiling away at their craft in a serene forest landscape and assumed it would be a light and breezy experience.
Woodcraft’s action selection wheel is probably the most interesting of all the Suchý games I’ve played. Each action is a tile on the wheel that slides to the next quadrant each time it’s used, with the rewards for tiles left behind growing as actions move along the quadrants. It’s a great system, obviously improved upon the action selection wheel in Praga Caput Regni (which I’ll talk about very soon). The most used actions get no bonuses at all, while the ones languishing in the back can rack up some serious benefits.
The downside is that this whole game is tied to a recipe fulfillment or contract fulfillment game, which ends up being deeply unsatisfying for me. I’ve always found recipes to be inherently luck based, and can skew a tightly balanced game, as happens here. Woodcraft is an action efficiency puzzle, and it seems like one player can just luck into collecting the perfect contracts. Less actions spent acquiring the final goods to fulfill a contract can really give a player a distinct advantage.
Despite my aversion to contracts, Woodcraft is still an incredibly interesting game. Players have a ton of tools at their disposal to acquire, transform, and manipulate your resources, and the action wheel creates interesting decisions, especially when the bonus you desperately want is aligned with an action you do not need.
The last two paragraphs sound really down of Woodcraft, which is unintentional. You can also check out my first impression post of it here, where I was a lot more excited and positive.
2 – Praga Caput Regni
With an action wheel like Woodcraft, Praga Caput Regni is another action efficiency puzzle, but instead of fulfilling contracts, Praga is more of a point salad where every action you take can result in a deluge of effects and bonuses.
In Praga Caput Regni, players are in Prague, developing mines and quarries, building walls and houses, and advancing along the Kings Road to deliver the eggs needed for the Charles Bridge. There are a ton of ways to squeeze efficiencies out of every action, and plenty of opportunities to bulk up each action so it gives you more when you take that action.
Each action tile on the action wheel each contain two of the 6 actions. When you take a tile, you can choose either of the two actions depicted and preform it. If the tile was further along the wheel, you get points for taking it. If it was further back, you’ll have to pay gold for the privilege of taking that tile. Along the inside of the wheel is an additional bonus that you get when you take the tile.
By the end of the game, each action feels like a slot machine of bonuses. “I’ll take this action, which gives me two stone as a bonus, and my technology lets me earn points when the stone is my bonus, I’ll take this action, which gives me extra points because my action is upgraded, and I’ll produce gold, which also gives me two points, and egg, and another point and a stone…”. That sentence sounds crazy, but in the context of the game, it’s a pretty normal turn. The biggest downside to Praga Caput Regni is that if you make a mistake and want to undo your turn, it’s seriously onerous.
1 – Underwater Cities
Underwater Cities was my first Suchý game, and it remains my favourite. The action selection here is a mix of worker placement and hand management. Each turn, you need to play one of your workers on one of the colour coded actions around the board, and play a card. If the colour of the card matches the colour of the action, you get to do both!
Again, action efficiency at it’s finest. There are 3 eras of cards with scaling powers, and the economy grows dramatically. In the first few rounds, you’ll barely scrape a living, but by the end of the game you’ll be searching for anywhere to spend your copious amounts of loot.
I think Underwater Cities is one of Suchý’s most popular games, and for good reason. It’s a brilliant game that gives you plenty of time and actions to achieve your goals. You probably won’t achieve everything you set out to do, but you’ll likely get lots done. The puzzle in Underwater Cities is balancing expanding your underwater colonies with improving your existing infrastructure. It’s an eminently replayable game that I always enjoy going back to.
Not many games do this very well, but one of the mechanics that I absolutely adore is positive player interaction. When someone does a thing, and everyone benefits. Concordiadoes this incredibly well, a couple birds in Wingspanbenefit all players, but give extra benefit to the player who played the card, Brass: Birmingham has brilliant mutually beneficial relationships, where you can use other players things to fulfill what you’re trying to do to earn stuff for you, and the player whose stuff you used also benefits. I could go on, listing a ton of games as examples of this, as it’s one of the mechanics that when I hear it’s in a game, it makes me sit up and take notice.
So now I need to figure out why Isle of Trains: All Aboard has left me feeling cold, despite the entire game being built around this mechanic.
Let’s set the scene. Isle of Trains: All Aboard is designed by Seth Jaffee and Dan Keltner and published by Dranda Games after a successful Kickstarter campaign. This is a 2023 remastering of Isle of Trains from 2014, where they’ve added a bunch of things and completely revamped the art and graphic design. Isle of Trains: All Aboard is an attractive game, with vibrant colours, screen printed meeples, and bright and detailed train cars on each of the cards.
In Isle of Trains: All Aboard, players are racing to earn the most points by the end of the game. To begin, all players have a train engine. On your turn you can build train cars by playing them from your hand, loading goods on train cars (either your own or your opponent’s cars), delivering goods and passengers for various benefits, and take cards from the market or deck. Each turn you’ll have 2 actions to perform, then play continues round and round until the end game trigger has been reached.
The interesting twist in Isle of Trains: All Aboard is that all the trains that can carry passengers or goods generally have a special ability that gets triggered whenever an opponent loads them. This can be something like drawing 3 cards, or draw 2 cards and take an extra action. But this special ability never fires when you load goods onto your own train. You can only take advantage of the special abilities on your opponent’s trains when you load them.
The cards have multiple uses too. Every card is something that can be built, either a building for end game points, or a car on your train. Every card can be spent as a good to be loaded onto a train, and when you do build something, the cost is the number of cards you have to discard to build it. The cards are incredibly useful and versatile here.
Perhaps that’s where my criticism starts. It’s difficult to get cards into your hand, and keep them there. That’s obviously on purpose, the game is pushing you to use the mechanic of loading other players train cars so you get those powerful abilities, but that’s not always an option. Each train car can only carry a specific type of load (ore, oil, crates, and passengers). If you don’t have what your opponents need in your hand, you’ll need to inefficiently draw cards until you do. If the opponent’s train cars are full because they haven’t been delivered yet, too bad, you can’t access that ability.
Isle of Trains: All Aboard has a hand limit of 5 cards. If you’re over that limit at the end of your round, you’re forced to pitch cards until you’ve reduced down to that limit. This makes building things fairly difficult. To build a level 1 Boxcar, you need to have it, and 3 cards you’re willing to junk in order to build it. Assuming you have the max of 5 cards in your hand at the start of your turn, sure, you can pitch almost your entire hand to build that single car. Hopefully your remaining card will be something someone else can use, so you can quickly refill your hand. The end game scoring cards cost 6 each, so you really need to commit a whole turn by spending your first action to get the extra cards into your hand, exceeding the limit, then spending your whole hand to erect that station. If there were more actions per turn, or if that hand limit were higher, perhaps this wouldn’t grate on me so hard, but here we are.
For a train game, I did surprisingly well with almost no train (lost by a single point)
There is a mechanic where if you’re upgrading your cars, you only need to pay the difference between the levels. So a Level 1 boxcar costs 3, and a level 2 costs 6. If you’re upgrading, you only need to pay 3 cards and remove the level 1 boxcar from your train. This is helpful, but with the problem above of spending all your cards any time you want to do something, you can’t really keep cards in your hand to hopefully build later. More realistically, you’ll be drawing cards from the top of the deck and just hoping that you manage to pull the card that you want. It’s quite unsatisfying.
Each station starts by wanting 2 goods. Only one player can deliver to a station. When someone delivers to the station, they claim the card and have the opportunity to then deliver to one of the two extra contracts on that card. Each time the initial contract on a station is fulfilled, or, 3 passengers are delivered to a single location, the end game trigger progresses. Completing 4/5/6 progresses in a 2/3/4 player game triggers the end. I’ve mostly played 4 player games, and only once has someone managed to complete the secondary objectives. Getting 6 goods onto your train feels like a really steep ask, considering that if each player claims a single contract, you’re already approaching the end of the game. By that point it’s pretty likely that some of the cities will be close to being full of passengers and the game comes to a screeching conclusion before anyone really wants it to.
I don’t want to hate Isle of Trains: All Aboard. On paper, I was super excited to play it! I had such high expectations for it, that I’m kind of crushed that it fell flat for me. It looks great, it comes in a small box, I love the multi-use cards, I just feel like it could have been more. I hate it when a game falls flat, especially when I was so excited for it before I started playing it.
I feel like it might be a better experience at 2 players, but it’s so rare that I play anything at that player count, I’m just left with a sour taste in my mouth. Isle of Trains: All Aboard isn’t for me, and that’s okay. I have seen some positive reports from the solo community, especially with the dozen or so scenarios included in the back of the box. So if you love train games, and play solo, you might have a better experience than I did.
Growing up, we joked that my mom not only had a ‘black thumb’, but a black aura. That any houseplant that came into our home was destined to die. This may be because she was a single mother raising 3 kids, or because we grew up in frigid northern Manitoba, but in any case, being unable to care for houseplants was a common joke in our home.
Now that I’m grown and living in a much more temperate zone, some greenery has started to adorn my windowsills. Mostly inspired by my wife, but still, it counts. A few of my friends are enthusiastic gardeners, such as Otter, who I’ve talked about before, has 10 foot tall sunflowers adorning the front of his home, his backyard is abundant with raspberries, and his living room couch fights for space amongst a dozen potted plants. Being in his space, I can really appreciate how having green, living things can make a room feel cozy.
Verdant is a puzzly card drafting game for 1 to 5 players designed by Molly Johnson, Robert Melvin, Aaron Mesburne, Kevin Russ, and Shawn Stankewich, and published by Flatout games. The game centres around a market row, with 4 tokens in the centre, and a room card below each one, and a plant card above each one. On a player’s turn, they much choose a token, and one of the two cards next to that token. Plant cards have a verdancy requirement, indicating how much love and care they need to reach their full potential. This can come from items, like the watering can or hand trowel, or from being next to room cards that give the appropriate amount of light to that plant.
If a plant reaches full verdancy, you clear the card of all its tokens and place a single plant pot onto the card, giving it bonus points at the end of the game. The room cards come in 5 different colours, and simply offer victory points if they’re adjacent to the appropriate type of plant. In addition, the tokens that don’t give your plants verdancy are a collection of furniture and pets that you can use to adorn your rooms. If your token colour matches the colour of the room, it doubles the adjacency bonus for that card.
One of the tricks of the game is that you cannot place a plant card next to a plant card, and you cannot place two rooms together. Instead, you’ll make a 5 x 3 chequerboard of cards as you try to maximize the number of plants you can sustain within your tableau.
The challenge here is that board games don’t exist in a vacuum, and it’s difficult to talk about Verdant without also mentioning Flatout Games prior project, Cascadia, especially because they both share the market row draft mechanism, but Verdant throws an extra choice layer on top, making you choose from a room or a plant in addition to the item on offer.
In theory, I feel like I should like Verdant much more than Cascadia. The choices are a bit more complex without adding on much more rules grit, but the breazy simplicity that was found in Cascadia and Calico feels gone here. Perhaps because you’re constrained to the 5 x 3 grid of cards, and you can never place a plant next to another plant, it’s just something more to keep in your head. In Cascadia and Calico, you COULD place any tile anywhere. It was freeing. You’ll do horribly if you place tiles without careful consideration, but you CAN do it, the only thing stopping you from doing so is the allure of victory.
Much like in Cascadia, there’s a fair amount of luck involved. There’s 5 plant types, 5 room types, and like, 8 different animals. Getting the right rooms and the right animals paired next to the plants of the correct time is hugely important. More than once I committed to succulents, because I had 2 next to the associated room, but then a succulent item never materialized to help boost that score. And the only other succulent card that came out that game had the wrong sunlight requirement. If another player just so happens to have the right cards come out for them, they’ll run away with the game, no matter how skilled the other players are.
As always, Beth Sobel’s artwork is incredible, and every gardener I’ve played Verdant with has gushed over the illustrations.
Verdant continues the trend of pleasant themes to lure people to the table. A lush green box, beautiful artwork, and an inoffensive theme of arranging plants and rooms does wonders in engaging those who may only be casting a passing glance at this game. But for me, it’s my least favourite of the trilogy. I utterly adore Calico, and I even quite enjoy Cascadia. It’s not a bad game by any means, but it also doesn’t exist in a vacuum. With these two other GREAT games made by the same company, let alone countless other puzzly tableau building games, I find it really challenging to recommend Verdant, unless you have great affinity for the theme.
Otter and I have had a few arguments about how we each rank and rate the board games we play. We both use Board Game Geek’s collection feature, and add our rankings to each game we play. If you’re unfamiliar with BGG’s system, there’s a 10 point rating scale, and they publish a guideline on how they suggest you rate a game, although admitting that ratings are completely subjective.
10 – Outstanding. Always want to play and expect this will never change.
9 – Excellent game. Always want to play it.
8 – Very good game. I like to play. Probably I’ll suggest it and will never turn down a game.
7 – Good game, usually willing to play.
6 – Ok game, some fun or challenge at least, will play sporadically if in the right mood.
5 – Average game, slightly boring, take it or leave it.
4 – Not so good, it doesn’t get me but could be talked into it on occasion.
3 – Likely won’t play this again, although could be convinced. Bad.
2 – Extremely annoying game, won’t play this ever again.
1 – Defies description of a game. You won’t catch me dead playing this. Clearly broken.
The argument that Otter and I have, is that I follow this chart pretty closely, and because of that, the vast majority of the games I rate are a 7 (36.7% of the games I’ve ranked are a 7). I feel like this is fair and true to my feelings on most games, most games that we play end with a “That was pretty good. I’d play it again. Don’t necessarily love it, but I didn’t dislike it.”. The real reason for this, is mostly because our group has played a LOT of games, and we’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out what games we like, and which ones we don’t. If a game doesn’t look like it’s going to grab any of us, it’s not going to see any table time, as time is our most precious resource.
Otter argues that because I rate almost everything between 7 and 10, that I really have a 4 point scale. He, on the other hand, tries to use the whole scale to greater effect. The games that he kinda likes if he’s in the right mood, the 5’s and the 6’s, those drop to the bottom of the scale as 3’s and 4’s, because those end up being the worst games he played that year. Meanwhile, average games languish on the 5’s and 6’s, and there are a couple new 9’s and 10’s every year too.
Now, I should be clear here, these ratings don’t really matter. We’re both totally valid in having our own systems that work for us, as every system has flaws. Like, my system’s flaw is that there are so many 7’s, that it’s hard to differentiate which of those 7’s I like more than other 7’s. The flaw with Otter’s system is that we’ve all been somewhat conditioned to believe that a 6 or below is just bad. Like, if someone told me a game is a 5/10, but reaction would be “ooh, what’s wrong with it?”
This leads me into the second part of this post. Why I don’t have scores in my reviews. I’ve always felt that reducing a review (of anything) to a number, or a binary (like thumbs up/thumbs down, or recommend vs not recommend), doesn’t really get at the heart of a review. For me, a review should be a person’s experience with the product, and a discussion of the merits and flaws. All people have different opinions, but the qualities that make one person run for the hills, might just be what makes another person beam with delight., For instance, I love real-time games, and the stress it produces, but at least half the board gamers I know absolutely detest them. Conversely, games that feature a lot of diplomacy, or bartering, or trading just do not land with me.
And that’s why I don’t like giving a number in my reviews. I’d hate to have a giant 4/10 plastered at the top of a review, and then have someone dismiss the game entirely without reading my reasons why I rated the game a 4/10. A game I think is trash absolutely could be someone else treasure. Terraforming Mars and Grand Austria Hotel are two examples that come to mind, I’ve rated them a 5 and a 4 respectively, but my opinion is very much in the minority.
I try not to, but when I read reviews, I immediately jump to the rating, which ultimately colours my opinion of the content of the review. I subconsciously put a lot of stock into the rating, even though not all 7’s are created equal. Another reason I don’t put ratings in my reviews is because my ratings do change over time. Sometimes, when I rate a game, I’m not in a good mood, or I just had a bad experience with a game. Now, I’m usually pretty good at separating my feelings about a game from my attitude or specific experience at the time, but every now, and then I’m surprised when I like something much more on a repeat play just because the space in which I’m playing a game is different.
Much more often the reverse happens. Where I have a really great session of a game, only for it to fall flat later when whatever silly mood we were in has worn off. Fog of Love is probably the best example of this.
Do you rate the games you play? Do you adhere to BGG’s criteria, or have you defined your own rating scale! Please let me know of all the ways to rank games in the comments!
