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!
It’s hard to imagine that Agricola has existed since I was in high school. The things I would have done to have known about Agricola’s existence during the years when I was living with my primary gaming buddy. I can guarantee you, we would have been playing Agricola over and over again, as it feels like the kind of game that you can replay endlessly and just get better and better at.
Agricola (or Misery Farm as many have dubbed it) is a worker placement game about building up your farm and family. You can build fences and stables, expand your home, have kids (cough cheap labour cough), collect wood, stone, reed, and raise sheep, boar, and cows. Just in case you were worried there wasn’t enough to do, you can also work the land and grow grain and vegetables as well.
The end game scoring in Agricola awards you points for how much of each object you’ve acquired over the course of the game, and punishes you with negative points if you ignore them. Being a jack of all trades is key on a farm.
Agricola begins with a small selection of key action spaces, with a new action space getting revealed every round. Each player has 2 workers in their farm. From the start, you are tasked with generating enough food to feed your family at the end of every harvest. The first harvest is 5 turns away from the start, giving you a bit of runway. The subsequent harvests come progressively quicker. By the time you get past the halfway point of the game and the harvest start happening every other turn, you better have some kind of food generating engine rolling, and/or be producing a surplus of food. If you can’t feed your people during a harvest round, you need to beg, which is more negative points. Keep in mind an average score in Agricola is around the mid to low thirties, negative 3 points could represent 10% of your total score, all for failing to generate enough food during a harvest.
Almost half of the worker placement action spots in Agricola generate some kind of resource: wood, clay, stone, reed, grain, vegetable, sheep, boar, or cow. A major component to Agricola is that every round, each of those spaces generate and stockpile their resource. If those resources don’t get picked up by someone, they continue to generate goods, making those spots even more attractive in the next round. It can be agonizing trying to decide if you want to take the juicy 9 wood that have built up over 3 rounds, or if you really need to play a new occupation card before someone locks that spot down. Can you do both? Will someone steal all that wood out from under you?
Another component to this game that makes it amazing replayable are the two types of cards that are either dealt out or drafted at the start of each game. There are more than 100 of each of the minor improvement cards and occupation cards, and both give your family special bonuses and powers once they’ve been built or claim. The minor improvements are tools that players are using to gain extra resources or to break the rules of the game. The occupation cards generally cost food to play (except the first one’s free), but these give you persistent powers, with things like “Every time you go fishing, get an extra food” or “any time you take wood from an action space, you may leave one wood behind and take two food instead” or “Your people can eat rocks.”
I understand the theme here is that you’re trading your rock sculptures for food, but I choose to believe that I’m feeding my family a plate full of rocks.
Each player receives 7 of each type of card at the beginning of the game, and it’s up to them to separate the wheat from the chaff. Each player needs to figure out their own synergies and make the occupations and improvements they were dealt work for them, as there’s absolutely no way that any player can play all their cards. When just dealing out 7 of each type of card to each player, there is the chance that someone will be dealt some amazing combo that allows them to become the king of the swamp. I find that the draft variant is more satisfying, in that all players get to see more cards, and have more opportunity to build towards something, rather than trying to make sense of the lot they were dealt.
Now, Agricola is called misery farm for a reason, and the first half of the game is tense as you’re trying to get your farm up and running from scratch. Gain and Vegetables grow every harvest, and having more than one animal after feeding your family will result in getting more animals, so it’s in your best interest to invest in these industries early to reap the rewards over several harvests.
The challenge is that everyone is trying to get their farms running in the same way. And you’ll be damned if your neighbour gets those 3 sheep one turn before the harvest. Likewise, everyone is contesting for the limited number of resources that are being generated each round. Sure, you got the sheep, but did you get the wood you needed to build a fence to keep them?
Agricola does still make me bury my head in my hands as I try to map out how to get an engine started from nothing. Trying to optimize and maximize my few turns in the early game to set myself up for success in the late game is crucial and difficult but satisfying. It’s a tense game, with the penalty for playing poorly utterly punishing. With all this tension and misery, when you manage to come out the other side victorious, it’s blissful. You feel like you’ve overcome a significant challenge, you earned a victory, not stumbled into one.
I could ramble on and on about how much I adore Agricola. It sits as #8 on my favourite games of all time list for a reason. It’s utterly satisfying to play, it’s engaging, and exciting, even 17 years after its original release. I highly recommend Agricola, for multiple plays. Uwe Rosenberg crafted a brilliant modern classic board game that stands the test of time. There is always room on my table for another game of Agricola.
