I was so excited when The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game was announced. It was fairly early on in my board game hobby, and I was seriously in love with the original The Castles of Burgundy. I was expecting a bite-sized version of the popular board game, Something that could travel with me and I could play in a fraction of the time. Not to spoil the review, but it felt more like they tried to stuff an elephant into a clown car.
The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game has no dice, no tiles, no boards, just cards. And more cards. And surprise surprise, even more cards. Some folks claim that CoB:TCG keeps the setting of the original Castles of Burgundy, but tosses everything else out the window, but it’s got plenty of parallels with the full game than you might think. You still snag farms, buildings, boats, castles, and “knowledge” cards from dice based locations, then you need to move those cards onto your estate. Your actions are tied to die results on the cards, and you can throw in some workers to modify your card flip dice pip result, and even the silver coins make a comeback. See? Plenty of shared history between these games.
That said, there are plenty of differences. No player boards, no completing regions, and it’s all about building sets of three cards of the same colour to rack up points. Boats got a 4-point symbol? Well, you’re not scoring 4 points when you build one; you’re scoring 4 points when you build three. Wanna score those 4 points again? Start another set of three. And those yellow knowledge cards that in the base game give you special powers and/or endgame victory points? Here they’re all the same, just two workers, no fancy variety. Plus, you’re getting one action per turn, unless you fork over silver or a card gives you an extra action. The ability to combo is much more restricted than the original game.
What’s to like about this card game? Well, for starters, it comes in a small box. And that’s about it.
Now, what’s not to like? I was hoping for a streamlined, quick card game, perfect for taking on trips, playing on tiny tables, while retaining the feel of the game that I loved so much. Nope, this game tried to do everything the original game did, except instead of using better and intuitive components like dice, they’ve proxied dice rolls with a card deck instead. And The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game is a table hog. You’ll end up with dozens of piles of cards all over the table, sometimes I feel like this game takes up even MORE space than the full board game. It’s chaos and I don’t like it.
It’s fairly simple to learn how to play The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game if you know how to play The Castles of Burgundy. But I tried teaching my mom how to play, and she nearly went cross-eyed. We ended up scrapping that game, as it was just too many little things all over the place, and the card form factor didn’t facilitate any kind of learning. While I don’t think there are many people who will be jumping right into this version of the Burgundy-verse, it’s worth noting that having the background knowledge of the base game feels required to on-ramp players into this game.
In the original version, the point salad scoring system forced players to trade off short term gains for long term plans, and players who could exploit their provinces and player powers could catapult themselves into the stratosphere in terms of points. In The Card Game, points come from completing sets of 3, selling goods, and collecting animals. There’s no interesting trade-offs, no oomph or zest in the scoring system to separate the wheat from the chaff. It’s toothless.
I gave The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game a few tries, and every time I was felt like I should have just played the original. It takes about the same amount of time and table space, but offers a much more compelling experience. I love The Castles of Burgundy, but this card game version? It’s like the bland, no name product version of the game. The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game It’s an example of how to turn something interesting into a bland and forgettable experience. Skip this and go play the original.
At this point, trying to review a game like 2011’s The Castles of Burgundy is kind of like trying to review a Toyota Corolla, or a pizza. Everyone already has their own experience and opinions have already been formed. The Castles of Burgundy is a staple of the board game hobby, and it often comes up as the best ‘next step’ game for players who are ready to graduate their tabletop games into something a bit deeper and more complex.
Playing The Castles of Burgundy is simple enough. Each turn, all players roll both their dice, then in player order, they use both their dice to complete actions, such as taking a tile from the centre board into your personal supply, placing a tile from your supply onto your personal board, getting 2 workers (which will allow you to modify your dice), or shipping goods that you’ve collected for some points and silver.
The crux of the game is the pips of the dice dictate which spots are available to you. If you’re taking a tile from the game board to your player area, you can only take a tile from the area that corresponds with the pips of the dice you’re using. The same applies when placing a tile from your player board into your countryside, you can only place a tile on a spot that matches the colour of the tile, and the pip of your die. Of course, you can always use workers to modify your die pips to offset impossible situations, if you have them. You can always spend a die action to generate two workers, but that feels like a total waste of an action, so plan your turns wisely.
Every tile you place into your player board benefits you in some way. Many buildings give you a specific bonus action, grey mines will earn you silver every round, animals earn you points, yellow monastery tiles will either give you a persistent power, or, offer end game victory points. Furthermore, completing a province (a collection of same coloured spaces) will earn you victory points. More points the larger the province, and more points the earlier in the game you manage to do so.
All of these restrictions and bonuses makes The Castles of Burgundy feel like an intricate puzzle. Every action leads to more actions, and you’re constantly fighting between your short term gains and long term goals. Despite this complexity, the actual gameplay is broken down into bite sized pieces. On your turn, you have 2 dice. Some turns do spiral out of control when a player manages a wild combo of special actions that feels almost unfair, but for most of the game it’s just players quickly taking or placing tiles, then informing the next player it’s their turn.
The points in The Castles of Burgundy are plentiful and come from almost everywhere. The trick of the game is amassing more than your opponents. It doesn’t matter if you managed to score a respectable 186 points if everyone else around the table flew through the 200 point threshold. With points coming from a myriad of places, it can be hard to prioritize any one objective, especially when many of the big point scoring opportunities require more than the 2 actions you get on any given turn.
The most common criticism of The Castles of Burgundy is the bland, beige player board. There’s nothing exciting about a grid of hexes with dice printed all over the place. The next most common criticism is the luck factor, which inevitably comes up in any game where you roll dice to dictate your actions. It’s crushing when you roll double 2’s for four turns in a row. You exhaust all you can possibly do with those numbers, and end up burning actions to generate more workers in a desperate attempt to do anything. Further to that, it sucks when other players just happen to roll exactly what they needed every round. That said, there are 25 dice rolls per game, the luck should balance out with that many rounds.
In the years following the original release, two more editions have been produced. In 2019, Alea and Ravensburger published a new edition with updated artwork and a couple expansions included (the pictures in this post are from this version), then in 2021 Arcane Wonders crowdfunded a lavish new edition. While I haven’t laid my hands on the latter, I recently played with my friends copy of the 2019 edition, and felt quite disappointed. The new art is lush and colourful, but the iconography on the tiles is incredibly small and hard to read. I have read that this edition is more colourblind friendly, but it’s still not perfect. I vastly prefer my old copy to this newish edition.
As I said before, The Castles of Burgundy is a modern classic at this point. It’s been over a decade since its original release, some would argue it’s prolific designer Stefen Feld’s best game. It’s the kind of game that everyone who is interested in the board game hobby should play at some point, and while the original version is a beige map with a boring cover, the gameplay itself holds up spectacularly. It’s wildly satisfying to play and offers a great experience, even after a decade of playing board games.
There will be story spoilers near the end of the review. You have been warned
I identify as a “JRPG fan”. While I don’t play them very often any more, during my formative years, I yearned for the story driven adventure. The rag-tag crew of warriors, travelling across the land, building their might and magic to return peace and tranquility to the land. Among some of my favourite games on the SNES were Final Fantasy IV (which was called Final Fantasy II in North America), and Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars.
Back in June, Sea of Stars appeared on my radar after its tremendous Steam Next Fest demo. It was gorgeous, polished, and I couldn’t wait to dive deeper into the world. Sabotage Studio had previously created The Messenger, which was an obvious labour of love from a dedicated team of folks who first and foremost loved games. I had fully missed the crowdfunding campaign, but I was beyond hyped when I was the release for the game was only a few months away.
Drawing on inspirations like Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger, Sea of Stars is a turn based RPG that features an active combat mechanic where you can deal extra damage, or defend damage by pressing a button at just the right time. Instantly I was engaged, getting the two hit strikes in one the early enemies gave a rush, and kept me from just mashing the A button the whole time, like I do in some other RPGs (cough Pokemon cough).
Adding another wrinkle of complexity, attacks have various attributes, like blunt or blade, lunar or solar power, and poison or arcane. Monsters across the world will charge their special attacks, but in doing so, leave themselves vulnerable to a specific combination of elements. If you can manage to hit all their vulnerabilities, you’ll interrupt their attack! Sometimes fully staggering an enemy is impossible, but breaking even just some of the locks will reduce the amount of damage they deal to your party.
While engaging, the combat system isn’t particularly deep. There’s no status effects, buffs or debuffs to worry about. Battle is about hitting hard and fast and exploiting your enemies weaknesses. There are combo attacks that you can build up to, but by the time your team is fully realized, you’ll have a handful of strategies that you’ll deploy over and over again, with the only changes being to hit those locks as they pop up. And when all else fails, Moonarang everyone to death.
Further to the combat, Sea of Stars features a lush and vibrant world. The colour is bold and bright, the lighting is dynamic and breathtaking. I couldn’t stop myself from taking screenshot after screenshot of the gorgeous vistas. There are so many moments in Sea of Stars that are just a visual delight. The environments are a joy to flow through, with a ton of different ledges and cliffs to grapple and climb. Most dungeons may be fairly linear, but they feel interesting. It’s also easy to move through, instead of trying to find the exact right pixel to press “jump” at. Sea of Stars also is very generous in that it never makes you backtrack. You either exit at the back of a dungeon, or, a shortcut is unlocked that enables you to get back to the entrance easily. Of course, as the game progresses and you explore more of the world, the options for travel get better and better.
The only thing that tops how this game looks, is how it sounds. Composer Eric W. Brown has done a phenomenal job in creating beautiful sounds for every biome Sea of Stars has to throw at you. The battle music keeps you pumped and energized, while the overworld music calms you down. The music lends to the world building as well, making each local memorable
The characters and dialogue was charming right from the get-go. From Garl’s unceasing optimism to Yolande’s fourth wall breaking jokes, I relished the characters and the stories they told to and with each other. Now, perhaps it’s just me, but in reading the promotional material for Sea of Stars, there was a fair amount of emphasis on the fact that you’ll have a ship to act as your home base. Much ado was made about this fact, but in my normal play through, I only really entered the “ship mode” and interacted with the characters like… twice. I used the ship a ton, it’s necessary to traverse the waterlogged world, but interacting with the characters took place at campsites and cities.
Story spoilers begin here
So, great visuals, great sound, great characters, great locales, what’s not to love about Sea of Stars? Well, the story is one of duty, loss, betrayal, but all underpinned with a sense of optimism. When childhood heroes betray you, or when the very best of us is the one to pay the ultimate price, it plays on some very emotional moments. The heroes never give up, even when things seem bleak. Ultimately, I got the feeling that the heroes struggles were somewhat meaningless. The solstice warriors are the only ones who can save the world from these terrible monsters, and only during a solstice, but when your order is betrayed and your mentor just gives up, the heroes are left to fight on their own. And while they do ultimately kind of succeed, the larger conflict feels so much more grand than the journey we go on. While we toil against our little villains, there is a much larger conflict that we’re just a small part of, and it made me feel like our sacrifices and pain was ultimately for naught.
In the same vein of Van Hohenheim and Father from Full Metal Alchemist, a pair of immortal beings (the Alchemist and the Fleshmancer) are waging a centuries long conflict. Once the best of friends and confidants, they grew apart as one descended into ‘forbidden’ arts, while the other, taking the high road, ultimately faded into obscurity. This conflict lies above our heroes in Sea of Stars, and I actually got Tales of Symphonia vibes from the story here. The solutions the heroes sought out were considered impossible by anyone who had experience, but they were too ignorant or dumb to know that. This is highlighted when one of the heroes grabs a flask and hurls it at an abomination, shattering an ancient covenant between the two immortal beings and ultimately causing the death of a party member.
Approaching the end of the story the first time, it feels like some of the characters just got bored and left of their own volition. The Alchemist who seemed so invested in you just, snaps his fingers, leaves you with a puppet, and walks away. The Fleshmancer who was so intent on growing world eating abominations, likewise just, disappears after you defeat his final champion. The Alchemist says “Time to go” and they just leave together. The heroes ascend into godhood, and the credits roll.
There is a true ended, locked behind completing several tasks that will scatter you to the corners of the world again. This time, when you confront The Fleshmancer, you actually take them on directly instead of their champion. A little more satisfying, for sure, but again, the end of the fight just has The Alchemist pull them up off the ground by their hand, and gently nudge them into a portal. The solstice warriors ascend to Godhood and fly off to deal with the world eaters. No real resolution to the conflict of the Alchemist and Fleshmancer, just… an end. The only real difference is a single life saved, which doesn’t really matter in the scope of centuries. I’d expect a true ending to be quite a bit different, with an actual resolution. I enjoyed that the true ending boss was different, but the broad strokes of the story remained the same.
One more criticism comes in the form of Teaks. Not her character specifically, but just the fact that she has a magic book. Heaven forbid she be knowledgeable from her years of dedication and study. Nope, she just has a magic book that spells out the history of certain objects for her. I did enjoy the lore she injected into the story, but I wanted her to be so much more, and actually be competent because of her skills and knowledge, not just the holder of a magic book. She was treated as cargo, and I feel like her character could have been so much more.
Story qualms aside, I still really enjoyed Sea of Stars. Like their previous game The Messenger, it’s obvious that Sabotage Studio is a group of talented and dedicated video games lovers. I still had a blast playing Sea of Stars, to the point where I actually sought out the true ending. While the ending disappointed me, it doesn’t take away from the fact that Sea of Stars looked and sounded great, and I still really enjoyed the adventure. It’s one that I would recommend to anyone who professes a nostalgic love for JRPGs, especially the ones that served as inspiration for this game. There’s plenty of room in the story for a sequel, so I’ll keep my eyes on Sabotage to see what they come up with next.
There’s something special about the indie scene. In a world where media content is seen as products and the priority for many people is to make a return on their investments, the indie scene stands out as a place for passionate people to create the games they want to play, and to showcase their love for the medium.
Sabotage Studio embraces that ethos. Created by just 12 people, The Messenger is a celebration of classic retro-platforming in the same vein as Ninja Gaiden or Metroid, or Castlevania. The inspirations are clear and their reverence for the past is obvious.
Looks can be deceiving. I fear that the 8-bit graphical style will immediately turn players away, especially considering it’s up against hundreds of games that use full 3D models, cel-shaded characters that pop off the screen, and fantastic dynamic lighting effects. Thankfully, The Messenger gets you into the action right away. You move, you jump, and you swing your sword. The key hook of the game is the cloudstep manoeuvre, which allows you to make another jump if you manage to smack something with your sword while in midair. Those mechanics will take you through most of the game, with only your skill and timing being the barrier to progressing. Movement is satisfying, and when you’re fully kitted up, The Messenger can flow through the level in a way that just makes you feel like you’re a ninja.
The Messenger‘s story is simple and fast. A foretold demon appears to destroy humanity, but a hero from the west appears to stop it. He hands you the scroll and tells you to deliver the scroll to the mountain, all the way to the right. And with that, you’re off, racing along various biomes, slashing and jumping over any obstacle that gets in your way. The soundtrack by Eric W. Brown (or Rainbowdragoneyes on Spotify) is absolutely brilliant. It’s fast, frenetic, and feels nostalgic while being entirely new. Every new biome and encounter has thematic music, and every new track becomes a fast favourite of mine.
As you make your way through each of the biomes, you’ll see ledges you can’t reach, and goodies that seem impossible to access. Like any metroidvania game, you’ll obtain a few upgrades to improve your manoeuvrability as the game progresses. A rope dart (it’s a grappling hook, come on) that lets you grab ledges that are out of reach, a wingsuit that slows your fall, and climbing claws that let you cling to walls. There’s a great feeling of discovery as you enter each biome. What upgrade will you unlock? What new enemies or boss will you need to overcome? What story will the shopkeeper tell? All of it kept me engaged and pushing forward.
The dialogue in The Messenger is consistently high quality and hilarious. From the shopkeeper’s long-winded diatribes, to the stories she tells, to the death screen quotes negging you, all the text feels like it’s coming from a group of passionate individuals. Every interaction with the shopkeeper felt like its own reward, and the dialogue with the bosses often subverted my expectations.
At first, The Messenger is incredibly linear. Just keep running right. If you haven’t seen the gameplay trailer, you may not see the big twist coming, but a few hours into the game you unlock the ability to travel to the 16-bit future. Complete with new soundtracks, new art styles, and a sweet new hat, The Messenger opens up. Now you can backtrack to all the places you couldn’t reach before, and the feeling of freedom comes in strong.
Unfortunately, with the feeling of freedom, the feeling of discovery goes away. The biomes are changed, especially with the new aspect of time travel, opening new paths that were previously unavailable to you, and there are a few wholly new areas, but the pacing slows way down. You’re now tasked to collect 6 music notes, and they’re spread all over the world. With only cryptic messages to lead you, it can be a frustrating slog revisiting old biomes, searching for the fork in the path that will lead you to the item that the game wants you to get.
Even worse, the shopkeepers dialogue dries up. It’s hard to overstate how much of a reward getting new quips and stories from the shopkeeper was for me. After you’ve unlocked the ability to time travel, the dialogue becomes few and far between. It’s a dramatic shift in pacing that was jarring and disappointing, but in no way prevents me from recommending continuing on with the adventure. After the 16-bit era is unlocked, the characters you blazed by in the first half of the game come back, and their characters are developed. Going from single line villain’s to having tragic backstories and even helping you on your adventure, making it to the end of each plot line feels satisfying.
I died a lot while playing The Messenger. The little demon assigned to keep you alive would periodically let me know that my deaths were nearing triple digits. I never felt like The Messenger was being unfair. The gameplay and controls are so tight that when I died, I knew it was my own faults, and with enough practice and skill I could overcome whatever trial was keeping me down. The checkpoints are fairly generous, without making me replay long sections of a level over and over again.
Unlike many games releasing today, The Messenger felt like a product of passion. Sabotage Studios wanted to create a fun game that paid homage to the games that made us who we are today. Many games released today make me feel like I’m playing a product, one that’s designed to suck money out of my wallet, or just another game in a franchise. I’ve always despised the games as a service model, and The Messenger is a breath of fresh air. It’s just a good, fun video game.
Right from the get-go, Wandering Towers sets a joyous tone. The Tall box art depicts a witch on a hill, holding her wand aloft, causing a stack of towers to rise from the earth below, as a woodland animals flee in bug-eyed horror.
In Wandering Towers, you play as procrastinated wizards. The goal is to fill your potion bottles and get all the wizards of your house into castle Ravenskeep. Players can either move their wizards, or move the towers on the board, which may stack up and trap wizards on the lower levels. Trapping wizards under towers allows you to bottle their magical essence and fill your potions, which furthers your victory conditions. Players can expend full potions to activate some magic spells to tip the scales to their favour.
The titular towers are made of cardboard, and must be assembled prior to the first play. These are thick cardboard pieces that fit very snugly together, but the box easily accommodates them in their assembled state, removing the need to disassemble them between plays. Thank goodness!
The wizards are custom meeples in 6 different colours, but not all wizard clans are equal. There’s 5 yellow and blue wizards for 2 player games, 4 red and green for the 3 and 4 player game, and 3 orange and purple for the 5 and 6 player game. I dislike that I can’t choose to be purple when I want to play a two player game, it feels really cheap to skimp on the number of wizards for each colour.
Designers Michael Kiesling and Wolfgang Kramer have a long a storied history of creating excellent games, both as a collaborative duo, and as solo designers. From 6 Nimmt! to Azul, to Vikings, to Downforce and El Grande, these two designers have proven time and again that they know how to make great games. And Wandering Towers is perhaps a bit of a departure in terms of theme, but in the quality of the gameplay, their polish and experience shines through.
The board is a circular track on which all the towers sit, some towers and board spaces have an eagle crest that dictates where castle Ravenskeep will move to, but other than that, the board is just spaces to move on. Each player is given 3 cards, and on any given turn, a player plays two of their cards, carrying out the depicted moves, then draws back up to 3 cards. Everything moves in a clockwise direction, and the first player to fill all their potion bottles and drop all their wizards into the tower is the winner.
The artwork and aesthetic of Wandering Towers is light, breezy, and whimsical, kind of like a Studio Ghibli movie. It’s childlike in the joy that comes from clamping a tower down on your opponents. Very quickly, Wandering Towers turns into a shell game. You’ll think you have a bead on where all of your wizards are, but then two tower shuffles later, and you’ll be left wondering where all your friends have gone off to.
The core gameplay and strategy of Wandering Towers is fairly simple. But the fun isn’t in peeling back layers of depth, it’s found in dropping towers on your friends heads. Round and round you’ll go moving your wizards or clamping down a pile of picks, trapping your friends. Because you need to trap wizards 6 times before you can attempt to win the game, everyone will get caught several times. It’s take-that, but it ends up feeling evenly distributed. And yes, you do need to move that tower off your head before your wizard can continue on their journey to Ravenskeep, it doesn’t feel horrible, because you can remember where they are. Right? And no matter how many towers are stacked on your head, it only takes one action to move the tower along the path, so you’re never buried in a way that makes you feel like it’s impossible to catch up.
There was one game where my partner boldly declared “my wizard is right there”, and pointed halfway up a small spire of cardboard. I nodded, believing her as I was focusing on remembering where two of my other wizards were, and we continued to play. A few turns later, she played her a card to move towers and said “I’ll reveal my last wizard here, and then I’ll move it into the keep for the win!” as she lifted the tower, she was greeted not with the friendly blue wizard she was looking for, but with my yellow wizard instead. We were both shocked. We were both positive that her wizard was indeed in that tower, the final blue pawn was now lost, potentially under any tower on the board.
It’s those lapses in judgment that bring a smile to my face. The unexpected shock of discovering your memory is fallible. The frantic shuffling of towers, making all the other hidden wizards revealed, or hopelessly lost.
At the end of the day, Wandering Towers is a quick and light game. It’s fun, it’s interactive and combative without feeling like you’re being directly attacked, and never makes you feel like you’re out of the running. The tactile nature of stacking towers is satisfying, and the attempts at distracting your opponents in the hopes that they’ll forget which level their wizard is on brings a smile to my face. The production is lovely, and it’s just a fun toy to play with.
