I wonder if every gamer experiences an overcorrection in their hobby life. When I first got really into the board game hobby, I wanted to play the biggest, most complex game. The drier and crunchier the game, the more excited I got. But over time, I found myself pulling back. A game having a 4-hour play time is a significant barrier. When the rule book passes 20 pages, I start to shudder and feel exhausted, before a single deck of cards is even shuffled.
Lately, I’ve been quite keen on really light games. The kinds of games that are basically just a deck of cards. Set up is little more than shuffle the deck and deal them out. The one I want to focus on today is 6 Nimmt! by Wolfgang Kramer, and first published in 1994!
6 Nimmt is a single deck of 104 cards. All the cards have a number of bulls on them, which are the points in the game. The dealer gives each player (up to 10 players) 10 cards each, then places 4 face up onto the table, starting 4 rows. Each round, every player will choose a card from their hand, and reveal it simultaneously. The rest is automatic, the lowest played card moves into position first, and the position it takes depends on what’s in the rows. It will sidle next to the card that it’s closest to, keeping true to the rules that the card must be in ascending order, and it is next to the card that has the lowest difference. If a 33 and a 38 are in two different rows, and 37 would go next to the 33, while anything 39 and over would move in next to the 38.
If someone happens to play a card that’s lower than the last card in every row, they instead take the whole row as their ‘score’, and their played card becomes the new start for that row. If a card is being placed in the row, and it’s the 6th card for that row, the whole row is collapsed for that player’s score, and that 6th card becomes the first card in that new row.
Players play all their cards until all hands are empty, scores are tallied, and once someone has 55 points, the end of the game is triggered. At that point, the player with the lowest score is the winner!
While 6 Nimmt! is remarkable in the fact that it can accommodate between 3 and 10 seamlessly, going too big or too small a player count can turn the game into a mad scramble. Portability is a huge boon for 6 Nimmt! As it’s literally just a deck of cards. No tokens or extra bits anywhere to be found. This portability ensures that you’re prepared for impromptu game nights, even if nine unsuspecting victims appear at your campsite.
6 Nimmt’s rules are so straightforward, it takes almost no time to teach a complete novice. The speed at which you get people playing is perfect for those who don’t play many games, and just want to get into the action quickly. The shorter the teach, the less likely people are going to get distracted by idle conversation when I’m trying to impart the rules.
This was a good day
Both strategy and randomness are present in 6 Nimmt. There’s enough luck to smooth out the playing field a bit, but enough strategic depth to give serious players meat to chew on. What really attracts me to 6 Nimmt is the chaos and excitement that is found in the reveal. When players flop over their card and find they managed to avoid a huge number of points by a narrow margin, the whole table gets excited. The last time we played, the #100 card was on the board, and we all were holding our final cards. One player revealed they had the 104 card, another showed their 103. They both exclaimed, one breathing a sigh of relief, and the other groaning at their bad luck. Then I revealed my 102 card, making all the players erupt with laughter as I took the row of points. It may seem small, but unexpected moments like this create memories.
30 years later, 6 Nimmt! remains a masterpiece. It flawlessly blends simplicity with depth, and accessibility with excitement. It never fails to deliver fun, no matter who happens to play, and it does so with an elegance that’s hard to find in the world of tabletop games. 6 Nimmt! is an absolute joy, I recommend it without reservation. And if you ever find me in a pub, there’s a fairly good chance I’ll have this deck of cards nearby.
It’s difficult trying to review a game like El Grande. For one, it’s quite revered. Some of the biggest names in board games call it their favouritegame. El Grande was released in 1995, and to this day still sits in the Board Game Geek’s top 100 games list.
My problem with El Grande has nothing to do with El Grande. It’s a me problem. I generally don’t like area majority games. I struggle to find the fun in gerrymandering, and generally amassing armies and controlling plots of dirt feels more like a pissing contest than an exciting game.
With that introduction, let’s talk about El Grande specifically. El Grande, designed by Wolfgang Kramer and Richard Ulrich, is a 2 – 5 area majority game, where players are playing as Grande’s in medieval Spain. The King’s influence is sagging, and everyone is in a hurry to grow their influence in each of the regions.
In play, Players have a hand of power cards, numbered from 1 to 13, and each card offering a vanishing number of caballeros that will be brought in from the general supply to your court, ready for deployment. In player order, each player plays one of their cards, ensuring they don’t play the same number as anyone who came before them. Then, whoever played the highest card gets to go first. They select one of the 5 action cards along the bottom of the board. Each of these power cards pull double duty. They both have an action on it, and allow you to place a number of caballeros from your court onto the board. Once each player has taken their action card, the round is over and whoever played the lowest number last round starts the next one. A scoring happens every 3 rounds, and after 3 scorings, the player with the most points, wins!
That’s literally it. It’s such a simple set of rules, it’s so clean and pure as far as games go, that if you do like area majority games, El Grande is this brilliant gem. The perfect distillation of an area majority game. It’s real easy to teach, very quick to get started, and while you’re playing, each turn is really smooth. There’s not much for players to forget and get caught up on. It’s a joy to behold!
All the actions in El Grande have consequence. Everything you place out, anything you move or influence, affects everyone else at the table. Sometimes the consequences of your actions aren’t immediately apparent. Like turning one of the lowest scoring provinces with a measly two caballeros on it into the single highest scoring region, and ultimately, drawing the attention of every other player.
This province started with 2 red cubes, then I made it lucrative.
Every decision feels impactful. The power card you put down determines both the turn order and how many caballeros move from the general supply into your court. The action cards determine both the number of caballeros you can move from your court onto the board, and what action you get to take. The province you’re allowed to place in is restricted by where the king is, but many of the actions allow you to bend that rule. Perhaps you’re tied for majority in a particularly juicy region, one of the actions could allow you to slip an extra caballero into that region, or even better, eject an opposing one back to their court.
The actions give flexibility where the placement restrictions of the game give security. I can see why people like this game, it’s really a marvel to behold! It’s so simple and yet so deep, tense and exciting, interactive and yet approachable. To this day, I haven’t seen anyone suggest there’s been an El Grande ‘killer’. It’s elegant, which is particularly spectacular, especially when modern area-majority games seem to be over-complicated and over-wrought in plastic.
And yet, I didn’t have fun. I won the most recent game we played, mostly by focusing on just getting the most caballeros around the board, got an early lead, and held onto it for dear life while the other players tried to buck me from my precious soil. El Grande feels much more tactical than strategic. The only things that REALLY matter are how your units are situated when the 3 scorings happen, everything else is just posturing for that moment.
I also think that El Grande has a run-away leader problem. Once someone has points, you can’t take them away. Someone getting away in the first scoring may paint a target on their back, but each other player still needs to overcome their lead. Something else that isn’t a problem with El Grande, is that experienced players would/should utterly crush inexperienced players. There’s very little you can do to stymie a well-thought-out move.
Unlike a lot of other area majority games, adjacency largely doesn’t matter. The caballeros enter play next to the king, and the majority of the actions give very free movement (when they give movement). Even moving units out of the Castillo is very free (aside from the taboo area of the King).
I can see the brilliance of El Grande, which really cements the fact that area majority games are just not for me. The tactility of spreading your influence across the board, biding your time to make a clutch move, the exciting reveal of who had the most units in the Castillo, AND where they’re going to provide support, creating a last minute shake-up in who controls which province. It’s easy to get excited about El Grande! It’s a great game, if you enjoy area majority games.
For me, El Grande isn’t fun. I don’t like spreading my influence around and hoping that the others players won’t take away the thing I’ve chosen to chase. I can see why some people love it, but I just do not find this game mechanic fun. I’m bored during the first two rounds Because only the scoring round matters. I’m exhausted when my whole turn is undone by someone putting the same number of callberos into the same province as me. There isn’t anything objectively bad in El Grande, but this game really isn’t for me.
There are other area majority games that I do enjoy, like Inis or Brian Boru, but in those games, area majority is only a part of the gameplay, there are other aspects for me to focus my attention. The other game that comes to mind is Hansa Tetunica, which I adore, but there’s a bit more of an action efficiency and engine building mechanic that I really enjoy, more than controlling specific areas. Also, once you have your cube or disc in a building, the only thing other players can do is place their own resources in the same spot, they can’t kick you out.
Honestly, El Grande hits like a required reading novel. The kind where educated and experienced people tell you that “it’s brilliant” and you can find dozens of essays dissecting every aspect of the book, but when a student reads it, it’s just another book. What’s so great about Animal Farm anyways? It’s just a bunch of pigs putting on clothes?
Do not take my opinion for El Grande. If you find any enjoyment in area majority games, this is THE ONE to play. A colourful new edition was just released that looks fantastic. Please seek out others who enjoy El Grande and enjoy this game. But please don’t invite me to that game night.
For the purposes of this discussion, I’m going to define what I consider to be the “Big Box” trademark. A Big Box edition of a game is a single release that contains the base game, and all the content released for that game up to this point. Think Galaxy Trucker: Anniversary Edition or Istanbul: Big Box or the more recently released Village: Big Box.
Other things have been called big box (notice the lower case b’s in this case, as this is not a title but simply a descriptor). Alea had a big box line which included the likes of The Castles of Burgundy, Broom Service, and Ra. These boxes were somewhat larger at the time, but are what I would consider to be a fairly standard box size these days. Fantasy Flight games had their “Coffin Box” games, like Twilight Imperium: Third Edition or StarCraft: The Board Game. Now those are some BIG boxes. There’s also the storage solution big boxes, like the Wingspan Nesting Box, or the Terraforming Mars big box. These products are generally big boxes with a couple of storage trays for you to “condense” a game and several expansions into a single box. None of those are the subject for today.
Voidfall has a big box, but it’s not a Big-Box
Going back to the capital B Big-Box. When I hear a game is getting a Big Box edition, I assume it’s an “everything” collection. A one-stop shop to get all the content for a game. Every Expansion, extra promos, and the base game, all in one convenient package. Some of these big box games are nearly the same physical size as their base games (like Hansa Tetunica and Istanbul). Others really swell their footprint (like galaxy trucker).
Now, releasing a big box edition isn’t without its criticism. Some argue that releasing an edition like this punishes fans of the game. The ones who bought the game on release, the ones who sought out the expansions as they came out. This is because often the cost of the big box is less than the cost of all the components individually. Another controversial moment is when a big box includes exclusive content. Isle of Skye and Ultimate Railroads committed this sin of releasing new content in their big boxes, forcing fans who want everything to either double up on a game, or sell off their first edition stuff and buy it again new. This situation is probably the one I dislike the most.
One last area where big box games can fall short is when they don’t include all the content. Going back to Isle of Skye, the big box included a new expansion, and one other expansion called Druids. The controversial Journeyman expansion was omitted from the Isle of Skye Big Box. Such drama!
The old Castles of Mad King Ludwig was in the same size box as Suburbia
I recently picked up the Castles of Mad King Ludwig Royal Collectors edition, which at the time had been advertised as containing all the content for the game. Basically a big box, right? Before the game had finished being delivered to all those who backed the crowdfunding campaign, a new campaign launched for a new expansion. No one said you have to buy every expansion to the games you enjoy, but the situation is mildly infuriating.
So, I’ll be the first to admit that I enjoy Big Box editions of games. I generally don’t buy expansions on their own, so getting all the expansions at the same time as getting the base game works well for me. Usually. Games like Hansa Teutonica and Ultimate Railroads were good opportunities to get the expansions that were otherwise difficult or expensive to get up in Canada.
One hidden downside of big box games, is that they present an additional cognitive barrier to getting the game to the table. Not only do you have to pick the game you want to play, you also need to pick which of the included expansions are you going to play with. Sure, we know we want to play Russian Railroads, but should we play the base game, German Railroads, or Asian Railroads? To learn how to play I’ll have to flip around the book, dodging the sections that don’t pertain to how we’re choosing to play.
Ultimate Railroads Rulebook
Something I’ve noticed lately, is that after I acquire the big box of a game, it actually gets played less. I’m less likely to haul it out to a public meetup, and the barriers I listed above can make me sigh at the end of a long day. Sifting through trays and trays of unneeded expansion bits is enough to make me choose a different game. This paradox is a bit problematic, as I do really enjoy the convenience of a Big Box game. From having everything together, to acquiring hard to find expansions at a reasonable price.
Hopefully, just being aware of the Big Box Paradox will allow me to mentally overcome the barriers. Sometimes being able to name a feeling is enough to overcome it entirely. That’s what I’m hoping for!
“Piranesi’s house is no ordinary building: Its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues. Within the labyrinth of halls, an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house.”
This blurb is the perfect way to introduce Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke. From here, a reader needs to know nothing else. The first few pages will tell you all the things above, and detail Piranesi’s lonesome existence. But Piranesi is not lonely, he lives to record and catalogue the halls of his world.
I was told that fans of “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” by Neil Gaimen would love this book. While it’s been a decade since I read that novel, I remembered quite enjoying it, and when my wife gave Piranesi her glowing recommendation, it quickly became my next hold at the local library.
The story of Piranesi is told as journal entries from the titular character. His perspective as an unreliable narrator is perfect. He details what’s interesting to him, the statues and the birds he encounters in the many rooms, and ignores what disinterests him. The House he is in, has no entrance nor exit, and Piranesi has no memory of ever being anywhere else.
I loved the character of Piranesi. He was so innocent and earnest. Joyful at discovering even the most minute detail, and eager to help anyone or anything that he thought may be in duress. He meticulously cares for the bones of the people who came before him, he longs to help the writer of an angry letter. He is pure, knows no betrayal, and lacks any semblance of selfishness. He is reverent and pious as a Child of the House. Piranesi earnestly believes that the House will provide, and he tackles is exploration of the house with an infectious zeal that you can’t help but be excited with him.
The House is isolating and perfect. Piranesi gives gratitude to the beauty of the statues. He doesn’t lust or envy, he just accepts who he is. It’s a heartwarming character trait, his innocence and naivety. I love the unreliable narrator writing, as enough clues are dropped that the reader can string together the events long before Piranesi is able to do it himself.
Piranesi was a delight to read. The story starts as a fantasy, a world completely unknown and foreign to us. Slowly, loose strings get pulled at, the fabric of the puzzle begins to fall away, and while still mystical, the framework of reason and logic begin to take hold. The beginning of the book feels like grabbing at smoke, and if you can enjoy the journeys through the mist, eventually the events give the world shape and leave you with a firm, echoing marble chamber. It’s not exactly a confounding puzzle, the clues and signposts are quite obvious from very early on, but Susanna Clarke tells the story so wonderfully, the writing kept me hooked, and my disbelief suspended for much longer than most stories. I was happy to abandon my logic and follow Piranesi through his halls.
I feel like the narrative has a quiet power of leaving the reader with discomfort. The House is a prison, and Piranesi, it’s prisoner. We know this, and yet, when a saviour arrives, I was left with ambiguous feelings. Piranesi didn’t want to leave the House, and for good reasons. The House was his home, it’s all he’s ever known. Sure, he may have the face and body of someone else, but without the memories of the person who went missing so long ago, that person is gone. He’s not going ‘back’, he’s being asked to move forward and leave his home. It should have been an easy end, Piranesi gets to return to the ‘real’ world, but I really loved the way Susanna Clarke approached it. As with nearly everything else in the book, with care and reverence.
Piranesi left me with an ocean in my heart. Strong, powerful, and yet gentle and calming. It both provides for life, and causes tragedy. I feel both melancholy and hope. Its complex feelings, but put simply, Piranesi was a beautiful book, and one I recommend without reserve.
“The beauty of the House is immeasurable; it’s Kindness infinite”
There aren’t a lot of deduction games that I enjoy. At least, competitive deduction games. I really enjoy solo logic puzzles, but when deduction becomes a competition, I freeze up and my brain becomes a puddle. It probably doesn’t help that the people who make up my regular game group are brutally smart, I always feel like I’m playing catch up. It’s probably because they’re SO much older than me.
Sorry, I’m off track. Cryptid is a deduction game by Hal Duncan and Ruth Veevers and published by Osprey Games in 2018. Playing Cryptid is quite straightforward. The concept is there is a Cryptid on the map, and each player wants to be the one to discover it. To facilitate this, all players are given a single clue pertaining to where the Cryptid could be, and when all the clues are collated, only one hex on the board satisfies all players clues.
Players take turns asking each other if the Cryptid could exist in a specific hex. If yes, a disc goes down. If no, a cube goes down. When someone thinks they know where the cryptid is, they announce their search by placing their own disc on that space, then all players either place a disc or a cube. If all players placed a disc, the searching player is declared the winner.
The first thing that pops is Cryptid’s map. It’s eye-catching! Vibrant colours depicting 5 different terrain types, and really, hexes always look good. A handful of wooden landmarks dot the landscape, and getting closer to the board, you’ll find animal tracks in the bear and cougar habitats. Everything is distinct and clear, which is vital, as the last thing you want getting in your way while playing Cryptid is hard to parse information.
The clues that get doled out have to do with proximity. Things like “Within 1 hex of a water space” or “within 2 spaces of a cougar habitat” or “on either swamp, or mountain” Each of these clues gives players a tiny slice of the puzzle, something that whittles the potential spaces down by ~60%. It’s kind of fascinating that with these clues, only a single hex on the board satisfies all the conditions. I keep expecting to find a fault, an instance where there’s more than one hex, but it’s true, every time.
Cryptid should flow quickly. Each turn is simply pointing to a hex, and asking a player “Here?” and receiving your answer with either a cube or disc. Unfortunately, as with any game that has significant cognitive load, player turns can drag on as they sit with their head in their hands trying to figure out the perfect space to ask a question.
There’s risk in asking a question. If the query returns a ‘no’, then you must also place a cube somewhere else on the board, giving all players more information about your clue. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s the real goal of the game. Figuring out what everyone else’s clue is, and finding that single hex that satisfies all the clues.
My brain burned while playing Cryptid. I struggled to keep all the other players clues in my head all at the same time. It was also a very quiet game, where we all just sat staring at the board, sometimes grunting as a cube or disc got placed, until finally the search happened, and the cryptid was discovered. But then an explosion of discussion on what we all thought each other’s clue was, made for quite a good experience.
I hold some reservations toward Cryptid that are not its fault. Things like, if a player misinterprets their rule and makes a mistake with their cube, it can completely break the game. Also, if you play with others who are incredibly logical, there’s nothing that’s going to help you overcome your opponents. All the information is right out on the board, and a players’ ability to parse the information is what determines the winner here.
Cryptid is a pretty little puzzle. There isn’t much variety to the gameplay, each time you shake up the map and drop new landmark locations, but that’s about it for discovery. It’s the kind of game that can be likened to a Sudoku, it’s a great puzzle, but every time you come to this game, it’s going to give you the exact same experience. That’s not a negative, but it will feel worn after several plays in quick succession.
It’s kind of fascinating to read some of the BGG forums, where people claim to have written a python script that can reliably find the Cryptid within just 2 turns. If you were inspired, you could train yourself and figure out the key to this puzzle. I’ve also seen a lot of people who have created deduction sheets to lessen the cognitive load of keeping each player’s clues in your head. Personally, I feel that the choice to omit deduction sheets from the game was intentional. Most of the game is happening inside your head, the workout of deducing the location is a huge part of the experience. Relegating that whole part of the game to paper turns Cryptid from a cerebral puzzle, to a checklist.
As I said above, deduction games are not my forte. Cryptid is an excellent game for those who like deduction puzzles. At the end of the day, I’d happily play Cryptid again, but it’s not one that I’ll ever be requesting to play. I much prefer Alchemists, where if my deductions fail, there are more game elements for me to focus on. I can still publish my findings, and in the event of catastrophe, poison a student for my own enjoyment.
