“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.
SCOUT by Kei Kanjino and published by Oink Games has got to be one of the most widely popular little box of cards Oink games has published so far.
Each card in SCOUT is double-sided, with different numbers on either side. Each round begins by dealing out the whole deck to all players (with certain cards removed in less than full player count games). When you receive your cards, you are not allowed to re-arrange them in your hand. What you can do, is choose to use the top or bottom side of your hand, flipping the entire collection of cards over in one movement.
Each turn, players either Scout, or Show. When you show, you pick a set of cards from your hand (either cards of ascending or descending value, or, a collection of identical numbers) that are adjacent to each other, and place them on the table, making it the ‘active show’ Each subsequent player may either Scout, which has them taking one card from either end of the show and adding it to their hand, giving the player whose show is being picked apart a victory point, or, play a competing show by playing cards from their hand with more cards, or higher value cards, than the current show. If you beat a show, you take the defeated show into your play area, to count as points after the round is over.
Once per round, players can perform a special “scout and show” action, which allows them to pilfer a card from the existing show, then, immediately play their own show.
The round ends when either someone has no cards left in their hand after a show, or, every other player scouts after a show. The cards left in your hand are negative points, while the cards you’ve collected from beaten shows are positive points.
SCOUT is a brilliant little game. It’s light and easy, so anyone can get into it, but it’s not too light that it becomes mindless. I like the first moment where you get your hand, and you try to figure out which way you want to keep your hand. Which side has more immediate Shows, and which one has the potential for a much longer show. Both are important, and the importance can vary wildly depending on the player count.
Because the round ends if your show gets back around to you, in a 3 player game a show of just 4 cards could bring the round to an end, if the other players are unlucky enough. Speaking of luck, there is a pretty large element of luck in that you can get really hosed on how the cards are dealt out to you. If that bothers you, stay away from SCOUT, there is no way to mitigate bad luck. That said, there is strategy to be plumbed, which has kept me engaged throughout all my plays.
I don’t know what exactly what parameters need to exist for me to decide that luck is okay, but in the cast of SCOUT, I’m fine with it. There are no stakes, no lost time or wasted game nights when I get boned by bad luck. Just reshuffle and play it again, no biggie.
I love the hand management aspect of the game. It’s so satisfying when you can play strategic Shows to have the remaining cards in your hand fall perfectly into place. Similarly, when you have a 3,4,5,7,8 in your hand, and your opponent plays a 6. The moment when you can scout and show and drop a massive 6 card run onto the table gets the whole table exclaiming. That said, there is tension in hording a handful of cards. Sure, you might play a 6 card run next turn, but when the player before you drops their final 4 cards from their hand and saddles you with a bunch of negative points, it stings!
I could talk negatively about the theme of poaching circus staff from each other, but I don’t really feel like this criticism takes away from the enjoyment of the game. If the names and professions were scrubbed from the game, and they were just numbered cards, I’d be totally fine with it.
SCOUT is a great game, and one that I recommend without recommendation. Its tiny box makes it easily portable, its light ruleset allows nearly anyone to sit down and start playing after 90 seconds of rules. It’s fast, allowing players to hop in and out as needed. SCOUT will be one of the few games that I’ll be bringing on my travels this summer, and I’m sure more than a few new fans will be created.
As board gamers, we’re all acquainted with the idea of a ‘Shelf of Shame’, or ‘Shelf of Opportunity’ if you’re looking to put a positive spin on your pile of unplayed games, but recently I found myself thinking about my Shelf of Dust. The games that have gone the longest since I last played them, and yet, they’ve survived multiple rounds of culling, selling, and trading.
What are these games that are just gathering dust on my shelf, and what are the qualities that keep me from moving these games out of my house? I think first I need to examine why I move games out of my collection.
The primary reason for me to move a game on is space. I have a game closet, and the agreement with my partner is that I keep all of my games in that one closet. Now, it’s full, but definitely not bursting, but if I want to acquire a stack of new games, I need to make room for them. The second main reason I move games out is for money. If I can sell a game, I turn around and use that cash on a new board game acquisition, and I love getting new-to-me games! I recently sold Massive Darkness, which I had last played in 2018 for $150, and used that cash to buy Castles of Mad King Ludwig: Royal Collector’s Edition. A worthwhile trade in my opinion.
The third reason I move games out of my collection usually comes down to the fact that I’m just not playing those games anymore. Games that I feel like I’ve played enough, and I’m not likely to be pushing my game group to revisit, gets the boot. I’m lucky in that I haven’t had to re-acquire any games I’ve gotten rid of (yet), as I feel like I have a pretty good handle on knowing when I’m done with a game.
So, what are my dusty games and why have I kept them around?
Some games are just so small, that I literally have no reason to move them along. The Castles of Burgundy: The Card Game was last played on August 5th, 2016, but the box is less than the size of a paperback book, and I’m not exactly going to reclaim a lot of space. There’s no real point in getting rid of it, but if I’m not playing it, there’s no point in keeping it, right?
Other games are fairly precious to me because they were fairly influential in my origin as a board gamer. Forbidden Desert (last played on October 6th, 2018) was the first cooperative game that my wife and I got REALLY invested in. We have a ton of coop games now, but every time I consider which games I want to get rid of, I look at the metal tin and immediately think “Not that one, moving on!”
Some games are games I’d really love to play more, but my current game group just doesn’t allow for it. Games like Tak (last played December 24th, 2018) and Le Havre: The Inland Port (Last played June 12, 2020) are because I’ve pretty well stopped playing 2 player games. I used to play two player games a ton with my wife, but since our kids were born, we’ve both been too tired in the evening to play a game against each other.
Writing this post has encouraged me to pull a few games off my shelf and put them up for sale. Games that I KNOW I’m never going to play again (The Settlers of Catan, Apples to Apples, Harry Potter: Codenames). There is great value in keeping a well curated collection. More choices aren’t always better, and if you’re not going to play these games, getting them out of your space gives you more room to manoeuvre. Maybe you’ll feel less stress when you look at your games as they’re precariously stacked and crammed into every spare square inch. Less stress means you’re more encouraged to go to your games and pull one off the shelf!
What are the games in your collection that have sat dormant the longest? What’s kept you from moving them out of your collection to make room for new games? Let me know in the comments below, especially if your games are dustier than mine!
Sometimes I feel like I’m becoming a curmudgeonly old man. Bitter at the world and have a deep disdain and loathing for ‘fun’. Soon I’ll be chasing the roaming street youths off my lawn with a stick, how dare they play? Everyone should be out working! No one wants to work anymore!
Sorry about that. Ticket to Ride by Alan R. Moon and published by Days of Wonder in 2004 needs no introduction. In a world where the latest and greatest board games get a mere 10,000 copy print run, Ticket to Ride has eclipsed 10 million copies sold. It is eminently popular, beloved by many, and I just don’t understand why!
A game of Ticket to Ride begins with a map. Tones have been printed, so pick your favourite region and go to town. Each player gets a hand of 3 destination tickets, of which you must at least two. Players start with 4 train car cards in their hand, and a pile of plastic trains on front of them. On a player’s turn, they can choose to do one of the following 3 actions:
Take 2 normal coloured cards from the face up display, or the face down draw deck. Unless you take one of the wild face up cards, then you only get to take one.
Play cards to place your trains on the board, and score points for doing so.
Draw 3 more destination cards, which you must keep at least one of those cards, but you can keep all the cards if you wish.
Players continue taking turns until someone has less than 3 trains left. Everyone gets one more turn, then the game is over. At game end, players reveal their destination tickets, and earn points if they were able to connect the two cities on their tickets, and lose points if they failed to do so. There’s also a 10 point bonus to the player who has the longest continual path of trains. Then, the player with the most points is the winner.
Listen, it’s not that I think Ticket to Ride is a bad game, because it’s not! It’s more that I just don’t understand why it’s so popular. The turns are fast and simple, sure. It’s rules-light, so the whole family can play, okay. There’s a constant stream of new expansions to keep the experience varied, check. But I just find the core of the game utterly uninteresting. So much of the game is just “draw two cards”. Over and Over again.
In 2 and 3 player games, all the double routes are knocked down to 1, making the game tighter at 3 players. I know skilled players can and will watch what routes another player places, and specifically try to get in their way, but at my level of play, it’s fairly arbitrary. There’s no hate drafting going on, each person is just trying to complete their routes. Yes, you could be keeping track of what cards everyone has drawn, and deduce what they can and cannot play on, but in reality, it’s a crapshoot. Destination and hand cards are hidden, and without all that forethought and really watching the board, you don’t know what the other players want to do, and blocking each other becomes accidental, which is frustrating for the person being blocked and boring for the one who is doing the blocking.
I often find that as the end of the game is drawing near, everyone fills up their hands with useless cards as they mill the deck, trying to get one or two last routes to complete a ticket, ending the game with a mittful of useless cards. Turn after turn is wasted drawing cards from the top of the deck, waiting to draw 2 yellow cards, because nothing else really matters, isn’t my idea of fun. I also hate the idea that some winning strategies can really be to just horde cards for the first 20 turns of the game, then just start placing down routes that work for you.
I played one game recently where I kept two cards with the Vancouver destination. I was 3rd in player order. The first player played 3 trains from Vancouver to Calgary, and the second player played 1 train from Vancouver to Seattle, locking me out of Vancouver for the rest of the game. Like, come on!
I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum, but Ticket to Ride is a hard pass from me. Alan R. Moon has designed games I like a lot more, like 10 Days in Europe, Elfenland, and Incan Gold. There’s other route building games that I like a lot more, with actual decisions to make, like Thurn and Taxis and Hansa Tetunoica. Almost anything else would be a better use of my time.
And before anyone gets on my case about how the Europe map has stations that allows you use other players routes, I know. I played it, and it helps the getting blocked out part, but I still find the core of the game boring. Thanks for reading.
