Full Disclosure: Cephalofair Games has provided me with a review copy of Gloomhaven: Jaws of the Lion
Introduction
I have a somewhat complicated relationship with Gloomhaven. Back in 2017 when I was only a year or two into playing board games, and didn’t have a regular friend group. I was attending a weekly open gaming event when I was asked if I was interested in joining a Gloomhaven campaign. A fellow who I’ll call Sloth had just received his Kickstarter copy of Gloomhaven, but had no one to play it with. Two others, Polar Bear and Owl, were also invited to join.
Cut to a week later, we gathered at Polar Bear’s house, and Sloth dropped the massive box of Gloomhaven on the table. Sloth had half-watched a rules video, and Polar Bear had partially read the rulebook, but none of us had a good gasp on how to play this behemoth. I poured over the rulebook and slowly cobbled everything together.
How to Play
For those who haven’t played Gloomhaven, here’s the rundown. Contained in the box is 21 pounds of cardboard. No joke. To start the game, each player will choose one of the 6 asymmetric starting classes. Gloomhaven is a campaign game with over 90 missions to explore. As you make choices in the narrative, you’ll unlock new locations and missions to undertake, all guided by a thick storybook. Each mission will tell you how to set the map up, generally combining a series of tiles to form the play area, and which enemies you’ll need for this mission. After a brief interlude for the story, the actual gameplay begins.
On each turn, players secretly choose two of the cards from their hand of cards to play during the round. Every card has a number in the centre that dictates your initiative value, which will dictate the order in which you’ll be able to take your turn. Gloomhaven is a cooperative game, and as such, you’re encouraged to collaborate with your teammates on achieving your goals. You can’t talk specifics, but you can say things like “I’m going to move kind of fast, and I can take out these two guys over here.” or “I’ll be sluggish, but I’m beelining for the treasure in the corner.”
Once all players have selected two cards, they reveal their cards and determine the player order. Each monster has a deck of tactics cards that will dictate and modify that monster’s skills and attacks for the round, one of those cards gets flipped up, and the monster’s initiative gets added into the mix. Then, in player order, everyone takes their turns.
Every player card in Gloomhaven has two halves to it, a top side and a bottom side. From the two cards you chose, you can use the top of one of the cards, and the bottom of the other card. You are not allowed to use two top side actions, nor can you use two bottom side actions. The top side of the cards generally have to do with attacking, while the bottom side generally deals with moving, but there are certainly exceptions to that rule.
One of the mechanics of the game is called ‘burning’ your cards. As you play cards, you place them into your discard pile. At the start of the round you can choose to either do a short rest, or a long rest. The short rest has you pick up all your discarded cards, randomly select one to be ‘burned’, then adding the rest of the cards back into your hand. When a card is burned, it’s placed off to the side, removed for the rest of the scenario. A long rest has you skip the entire action round, but allows you to heal 2 health, and you get to manually select a card to burn. If you run out of cards or health, you become exhausted and are out of the scenario. Many of your most powerful actions also force you to burn the card instead of placing it in the discard pile. Such is the price of power.
So what are you really trying to do here? Gloomhaven is a combat focused game, generally your goal will either be to route the enemy, or, reach a certain location on the map. Another wrinkle to the combat is that every attack gets modified by flipping a card from the attacking characters’ modification deck. This can do nothing, add or subtract one or two points of damage, or excitingly, double the damage, or disappointingly, null the damage entirely. But that’s the bare basics of the game, play cards 2 at a time, and try and achieve the objective set out in the start of each scenario.
Now don’t get me wrong, Gloomhaven is a complex game, with 14 conditions and status effects that can be inflicted, 6 elements that wax and wane, 28 different icons and 12 different types of cards available, the cognitive load that Gloomhaven presents can be absolutely brutal. Remembering every detail and how all the mechanics mesh together is no small feat. It’s very likely that you’ll get some amount of rules wrong, and I highly recommend you have someone who is very familiar with the game to lead you through your first couple missions.
My Experience
By the time Polar Bear, Owl, Sloth, and I chose to stop playing Gloomhaven, we had met weekly for 3 months. 12 seperate plays of Gloomhaven at 4 players each time, and I was fairly bitter about my overall experience. I was the one ‘running’ the game, administering all the enemies and their focuses, reminding everyone what each of the status effects do, updating the element board, adding and removing status chits from enemies, everything. The only part that I wasn’t involved with was setting up the game, as the others would have the scenario mostly set up before I arrived.
In addition to the mental load of running the game, I found myself frustrated with the other players. Owl had terrible analysis paralysis, with long stretches of time when they would just be staring at their hand of cards, Sloth was willing to burn their cards without discrimination then complain when they were exhausted out of the scenario, and Polar Bear would run by a mass of enemies to loot a chest, leaving the others to suffer their fate of getting pummled by the monsters. At the end of the 2 months, we had failed every first attempt at a mission, but succeeded in each subsequent attempt. Each play was in excess of 3 hours, and I just wasn’t having fun with Gloomhaven.
I felt frustrated in that as the brute, I wasn’t gaining experience when slaying enemies. I’d cleave down the monsters, only to have the Mindthief zip in and loot all the gold. Furthermore, I was jealous in that my friends were scooping up the gold and gaining experience at the same time, while I felt like I was taking all the hits and killing multiple enemies only to get a single exp point. I didn’t like that all my best cards also burned them, punishing me for doing the big cool action. Honestly, a big part of my frustrations came from my friends not supporting each other and choosing gold and exp the moment they felt we might not win a scenario. Maybe it was too much game for us and where we were in our gaming lives. I can’t speak for them, but I suspect they, too, were frustrated, and choosing to chase gold and exp at least gave them a short term goal that they could achieve. I left the group, and looking at the gameplay records for my friends, they did not continue their adventure after I left.
Late last year, Bigfoot invited me to revisit Gloomhaven. It was one of his favourite games, and he felt my incoherent ramblings weren’t giving the game a fair shake. So I bought the game on Steam, and we set off on another adventure. We played for 90 minutes, failing the first scenario to some ludicrously bad luck, but succeeded in the next missions. I slept on my feelings, but chose to refund the game the next day. Having a computer manage everything did help me enjoy the game more, but it highlighted one aspect that I didn’t like so much, and that’s the ‘burning cards’ mechanic. I was really annoyed that all my best and coolest abilities also meant burning the card out of my hand. It felt like I was being punished for doing the cool action, and that’s not what I want in a dungeon crawler.
Tied to that burning card mechanism, the missions didn’t give players much time to explore. There’s a treasure chest in the corner of the room, you need to make a concerted effort to do so. I felt punished for exploring, and considering how much I love discovery, choosing to move past the chest to win the scenario was utterly painful.
Epic Games gave Gloomhaven away for free in November 2021, and I picked it up there, but left it unplayed. Cephlophair Games recently sent me a copy of Gloomhaven: Jaws of the Lion to review, and following a very successful first 2 missions, I couldn’t get Gloomhaven out of my head! I recently started the digital game up, and started playing two characters on my own, the Craigheart and the Brute. I was turned off at first, with the first mission feeling pretty hard, but overcoming the challenge felt good. I liked controlling two characters, having a unified strategy helped me cover my weaknesses, and I didn’t really have to worry of someone doing something that I didn’t want them to do. Considering I had lambasted Gloomhaven for years, I had to swallow my pride and admit that Gloomhaven was a pretty good game.
Perhaps part of my problem has to do with framing. I saw Gloomhaven as a dungeon crawling game, a genre of game that generally has you be a big damn hero, popping off cool abilities and scooping up treasure. In reality, it’s much closer to something like XCOM or Final Fantasy Tactics. A resource management battler, a risk assessment adventure. Each choice you make has the chance to go horribly awry, so you better have some backup plans. With that framing in mind, I begin to appreciate Gloomhaven more. It’s a tight, tough game, the joy and elation that comes from overcoming a seemingly impossible challenge. How each character synergies with themselves and with the other characters is immensely satisfying.
I’ve played a further 8 hours of Gloomhaven, and I’m starting to feel like I’m in an abusive relationship. When times are tough, they’re brutal. I had to replay a single mission 4 times because I kept running into an enemy that would shield for 2, then heal themselves for 4. I couldn’t generate enough damage to penetrate their shield and drain their 8 health, and when I had a narrow moment of opportunity to kill them, I’d pull a null. One mission in particular saw me pull 4 nulls between my two characters, leaving me to wallow in despair. But when I finally completed it, I was elated. When the times are good, they’re great.
I’m going to continue to play Gloomhaven. I’m excited to return and explore the character combos. I’ve spun up a 3rd character, a Spellweaver to help with some of the ranged damage that I needed assistance with. I’ve joined the Gloomhaven subreddit and have spent more time thinking about Gloomhaven in the past three weeks than I have in the past three years. It’s a brilliant game, a carefully crafted puzzle, and an immense challenge and achievement. It might not be for you, and that’s okay! Gloomhaven absolutely isn’t for everyone, but if you can find the joy in the 21 pounds of cardboard that comes in this massive red box, There’s enough game there to last you for years.
Humans are bad at randomness. That’s just a fact. The most salient example I can think of is that Apple had to make their shuffle feature less random on their early generations of iPods because of complaints that the randomization of songs didn’t feel random enough. It feels ironic that in order to make the playlist ‘feel’ more random, they actually had to make it less.
To take this a step further, video game developers have been ‘fudging’ the numbers for a long time. There are often hidden values and design tricks that are utilized to make the player feel like they’re successful, or to encourage more ‘barely survived’ moments, or to make the game feel more fair. Things like, the last portion of your health is actually much more than it appears to be in the health bar, or the first or last shots will always miss you, or in Civilization there is a value that keeps track of your combat losses, and will make your odds of winning your next combat slightly higher, to prevent a constant string of losses.
All these tricks make games feel more fun. In tabletop role-playing games, some DM/GMs will opt not to keep track of enemy hit points, but to just do what feels narratively best. If a player risked it all and did something awesome and pulled off the roll, then that’s the killing blow. So much more satisfying than a rogue who scratches the dragon’s toe that just so happens to be the final point of health. If a party is beating the hell of a boss that should be much more difficult (due to narrative importance), a DM can just, extend their HP until they feel the foe has served its purpose. There’s a whole discussion to be had about tabletop role-playing games about which is more important, mechanics or narrative, but I’m not equipped to facilitate that discussion.
All of these examples are ways that designers tweak systems to make games feel epic. The stories that we remember, well after the game session has ended, the memories that bring smiles to our faces when we reflect on these experiences, and the memories that keep bringing us back to games.
It brings to mind a question then, how can you create the awesome narrative moments, squeezing out a victory when all odds were stacked against you, in a board game? The very nature of a board game demands transparency. You can’t obfuscate the stakes when the players are also responsible for maintaining the system. The most obvious example I can think of come in the form of competition between players. There have been a few moments in board games where a clutch roll of the dice is the difference between victory and defeat. “The only way you can beat me, is if you roll four 6’s on this turn.”
“Damnit!”
But what about cooperative games? I’ve been playing Lord of the Rings: Journeys in Middle Earth and the balance of some of the missions feels off. One mission had flat out running through a cave, only for us to take the wrong fork at the end, and need to backtrack, but didn’t have enough time to do so. I think back to that mission and I actually can’t think of anything that we really could have done better, other than to have taken the correct fork at the end. Other missions we succeed with more than half of the remaining time. Neither of those scenarios feels good.
The best cooperative experiences are the ones that have you succeed by the skin of your teeth. I’m amazed at just how often I’ve won a game of Matt Leacock’s Pandemic on the last possible turn, or, in Tim Fower’s Burgle Bros, having a 50-50 shot of the last guard moving into my path and catching me red-handed just before I escape. Those moments are exciting, even when we lose, we loudly proclaim just how close to winning we were.
“Better luck next time, coppers!”
I know a lot of time, effort, and playtesting goes into modern board games and tweaking the balance to make it feel just right is a difficult challenge. Finding that sweet spot between a deterministic puzzle, and a random luck fest, is a feat in it’s own right. Generally a balance of randomness, and how much information a player has before they make their decisions seems to be key. In Now Boarding, players know where their passengers are spawning in from, but don’t see their destinations until the 15 second real time phase begins. You might have a perfect plan, but as soon as those cards flip up, you might just need to throw your plans to the wind. Having that imperfect information prevents players from ‘solving’ the game before the real-time phase begins. I suppse that is what seperates a game from a puzzle.
So what are the games that feel the most tense to you? What are your favourite cooperative games, and what is it about them that makes your heart sing? Let me know in the comments below!
I don’t own many train games. I never considered myself to be the kind of person who is enamoured with large vehicles like tanks, ships, or trains. But then in 2020, I discovered a game called Train Valley 2, and suddenly, I was hooked. 200 hours of gameplay later, I had 5 starred every level and my partner was making fun of my mid-life love of train awakening. Now when I see trains (which, to be fair, is incredibly infrequent due to the fact that I live on an island with no functioning rail system), I can’t deny I feel an excitement in my chest.
With that excitement in my chest, I find myself staring longingly at board games that feature gorgeous trains on the cover. Ultimate Railroads, Age of Steam, and the Iron Railseries to just name a few. So when Switch & Signal popped up for sale, I just couldn’t say no! After all, I barely own any train games!
How to Play
Switch & Signal is a cooperative game in which you are tasked with corralling speeding trains from their points of origin to cities to collect goods, then to the port to deliver the good. The board contains 4 different cities, each producing 2 goods of the associated colour, and 11 points around the board in which a train might appear. Players win if they can deliver all the goods to the port, but lose if you run out of departure cards.
The game starts with 8 signal discs and 26 switch discs on the board. At least one signal disc must be on each city at all times, leaving you with 4 extra signal discs to deploy as you wish. The switch discs mark which direction a train will move at any junction. All 9 trains start in the depot on the side of the board at the start of the game, and will be deployed as the game wears on.
Players are dealt 5 action cards, of which there are 3 different kinds. Signal setting, switch setting, and train movement. A turn always starts with a Departure card being drawn, which will either spawn a train and/or move all the trains of a colour on the board. The location in which a train spawns depends on the deployment dice, two little cubes that will ruin your day. Roll two dice, and place the train on the location matching the sum of those dice. Train movement is similar, in that it’s controlled by a cube that hates your guts. You roll the same coloured die for each train on the board, and move that train that number of spaces.
A train can only move through a signal location if the signal is green. If a train reaches a junction, it must move through the open route. Should your train run into a red light, you lose time tokens. If a train runs into another train’s rear, you lose time tokens. If two trains collide head on, you lose time tokens and the moving train is removed from the map. If you can’t deploy a train because a train already exists on that location, you lose time tokens.
So I just talked about time tokens a bunch, but what the heck are they? At the start of the game, there are 7 time tokens on the board. If you ever run out, you discard one of the departure cards to the box, then refill your time tokens. If you run out of departure cards, you lose the game.
Anyway, with train deployment out of the way, you’re finally able to take your turn. Playing a signal setting card allows you to move a single green disc, opening a new path for trains to travel, while closing the path left behind. Similarly, playing a switch setting card allows you to move a single switch disc, changing a direction a train would travel when it reaches that junction. The Train Movement card allows you to pick a single train and roll its die, moving it along the track. You can also discard two cards to do any of those three actions of your choice.
When you’re done your turn, you draw 5 cards, then the next player can take their turn, starting with drawing and resolving a departure card. Play continues until you win or lose!
Review
Switch & Signal starts slow. With 3 trains on the board (one of each colour), and no movement on turn one, you can almost hear the gears of the system creak and groan as the game slowly inches forward to leave the station. Players are tasked with picking up goods from the hub cities, and delivering them to the port. It’s pretty easy to get the first train to that city by adjusting the signals and switches as necessary.
By the third or fourth turn, things start to become a bit dramatic. A few more trains have spawned, perhaps a pair of trains have moved somewhat unexpectedly, and while your primary goal may be still to deliver that first good you picked up, a bottleneck is starting to develop. Two trains are approaching the same junction from different directions, and you don’t have enough signals to allow everything to move. The engine has built up speed now.
Plans will get changed, losses will get cut. You’ll deliver empty trains to the port just to get them off the board, you’ll risk collisions, hoping that a train only moves one or two spaces, so it comes to rest just behind the train waiting for a signal change before it can move into a city. You’ll juggle switches and signals, closing paths the moment a train crosses the threshold because that signal resource is required elsewhere. Everything is moving too fast now, and you’ll desperately lean on the brakes, lest everything crashes in a spectacularly horrible fashion.
Just as the bottlenecks get cleared, and the start to trains flow down a single track, the game will approach its end. The departure deck will be nearly empty, and you’ll need to step on the gas and take risks to get your trains delivered in time. Maybe that train you delivered empty in round 5 when you had too much on your plate means you just won’t have enough trains to deliver all the goods. Maybe if you had rolled a 10 instead of a 4 when deploying that last train, it would have been on the right side of the board, and you could have secured your victory. Alas, that’s the game.
Cooperative games have some unique challenges to overcome, like, how to avoid being a perfectly solvable puzzle, while not being totally and completely random. How to balance long term projects against short term goals. How to give players agency when their friends are bossing them around. I feel like Switch & Signal does a good job in offering competing objectives. It’s tempting to direct an empty train to the port city, instead of having it cross the entire country to get to a goods city, then back again. But when unexpected things happen, like a train failing to deploy because you left one train in a station somewhere, You’ll be glad you have a backup plan. Unless that backup plan is a black train barrelling down the tracks faster than you can keep up, and now it’s on a collision course with the plodding grey train!
Switch & Signal isn’t a complex or difficult game. After a handful of plays, you’ll know the basic strategies that should lead you to victory. If you happen to find yourself in a good position early in the game, then it behooves you to pass early and take extra cards into your hand. Once your hand is full of 10 cards, you’ll pretty much always be able to do anything you want to. With only 3 card types, the odds are that you’ll have at least 2 of each action, and, if you have a surplus of one type of action, discarding two literally lets you do whatever you want. I appreciate the flexibility, but once your hand of cards is full, the game is just to mitigate your luck.
Switch & Signal includes two maps to switch up your gameplay experience, but the level of discovery in this game is low. I do like that you can randomize the stations, so you don’t always have trains flowing in from the north, or, if you just hate the deployment dice, can use cardboard chits to randomize the train deployments. But the game is the same every time. I would love to see some expansions for Switch & Signal, just to shake up the experience a little bit.
I’ve mostly played Switch & Signal solo, which has been a really enjoyable experience. It’s fast to play, and the tensions I feel mid-game when I’m corralling several trains simultaneously is exciting. There’s a lot of luck, as all the train deployments and movements are decided by dice. “If only my grey dice rolled anything than a 3 this round!” or, “Deploy this black train to anything higher than a 4”, then rolling a 2 can leave you a bit disheartened. But overcoming these calculated risks is what makes the game fun. Including other players doesn’t change the game at all, other than each player has their own hand of cards.
Overall, Switch & Signal is a fast, fun, and easy to play cooperative game, with some lovely little train toys to play with. I like lighthearted games that give me space to just laugh and have fun with my friends. There’s a lot of luck, there’s a lot of flexibility, and there’s not much variability. Switch & Signal is a great game to use to introduce others into the wonderful world of cooperative games, or, to lull them into a false sense of security in thinking train-themed games are light and breezy, then suggest playing a cutthroat game like Age of Steam.
The risk I took was calculated. But man, I am bad at math
Good morning, it’s Valentine’s Day (actually the evening of Feb 13, 2023 as I write this) and I feel obligated to talk about Fog of Love.
Fog of Love by Jacob Jaskov and currently published by Floodgate Games but originally published by Hush Hush Projects, is a 2 player role-playing game. You and your partner will create and play as two characters who meet, fall in love, and try to complete your own hidden objectives, which may end with a happily ever after, or, a tragic break-up.
How to Play
The main board in Fog of Love is a stark white colour with two sections along the sides for each player to create their character, and track their satisfaction. The centre of the board features 6 colourful personality traits that will track how a player develops over the course of the game. Each player is given 5 trait cards and choose to keep 3, forming the bedrock of their personality, and will provide some satisfaction if your trait goals are realized by the end of the game. An occupation card for each character adds a bit more flavour, then players introduce each other by playing a few feature cards for their partner, representing the aspects that first attracted each player to the other.
Great, setup is completed. During the setup, as you reveal features and occupations, you’re encouraged to start role-playing. Tell each other what you noticed about each other. As you place those cards in your character slots, you also place your personality tokens on the colourful personality traits. The board offers suggestions to what these traits mean, like having a high curiosity score means you’re curious, creative, and unconventional, while having a low curiosity score means you’re close-minded, prosaic, or conventional.
Fog of Love contains 4 scenarios that will set up the story and guide it through its arcs. There are expansion packs if you want more variety in the stories, but honestly, the variety comes from you and your partner. It’s up to you to make this narrative tense and exciting! Swapping occupations and traits, embodying your favourite sitcom characters, is much more interesting than a new story framework.
Like most romantic comedies, the first act is filled with the feel-good, exciting scenes. Going to a masquerade party together, or pulling your partner into a fortune-tellers’ booth. The events give players a prompt, and it’s up to the players to role-play and use their improv skills to weave a narrative. The scene cards generally explain what to do, most often, they offer a multiple choice. You hold the scene card in your hand and describe the situation to your partner, then tell them what their choices are. One or both players place their chosen answer in the centre of the board, then reveal their answers, filling out the rest of the scene on their own. The choices will generally have you place more tokens on the personality trait sections of the board and/or affect your and your partners’ satisfaction levels.
As the game goes on and scene by scene gets completed, the story continues in the form of chapters. After a number of scenes have been completed, you flip a chapter card, resolve the effect, and draw new cards from the serious and the drama decks. These cards depict dramatic situations that will put your newly formed relationship to the test. Switching Jobs, affairs, and surprising reveals are all potential scenes in your romantic comedy. In addition to these new scenes, you’ll also be winnowing your destiny deck, which represents your end-game goal. Perhaps you realize that being equal partners is unachievable with a partner who’s so undisciplined, so you discard that destiny and start working toward the goal of self-realization. Once all the chapters are completed, each player reveals their destiny, and the player(s) who have fulfilled their destiny have ‘won’ the game!
Review
I’ll be upfront and say that I’ve only played Fog of Love twice, both times with my partner. The first time, we were able to submerge ourselves in the storytelling and acting portion of the game, making up wild stories based off the prompts the game provided. I was a baker with odd socks and bedroom eyes (whatever that means), while she was a slow-speaking athlete with perfect teeth and worn out jewellery. Back and forth, we played scenes and spun a tale that ended with both of us fulfilling our destiny and living happily ever after.
I had middling feelings about the game itself, but my partner really enjoyed it, and said she’d like to play it again soon. The overall experience was enjoyable enough that I kept Fog of Love in my collection, surviving the upcoming purges and trades that the year would bring.
Our second play was exactly one year later. This time, it fell flat. Perhaps we were both tired that evening, or maybe it was just the wrong pick for the night, but the creative juices just weren’t flowing, and if one or both partners aren’t able to keep up the improv, Fog of Love turns into a hedgehog. A prickly game of little rules with a soft underbelly, and an adorable face.
Fog of Love requires what I call an ‘above the board’ attitude. The fun of the game occurs between the players, the actual mechanics of the game itself is mediocre, bordering on frustrating. The personal traits that you keep hidden can be at odds with the features your partner chooses for you. Trying to work in your sense of justice and get a high sincerity score is impossible when your partner’s goals are directly opposite to yours. Narratively, some couples just aren’t meant to end up together, but from a gameplay perspective, it’s frustrating to play scene after scene only to have your partner wipe out the progress you make on your turn. Bitterness and resentment forms as you struggle to make your partner bend to your goals. At some point you start to eye those other destiny cards, the ones that focus on your own satisfaction, eschewing your partner’s desires. Maybe you just can’t see how you can ever make this work, and decide you’re breaking up with them. Maybe more like a real relationship than I initially gave it credit for.
If you are mechanical minded and come to board games for interesting rulesets and elegant designs, this will leave you wanting. Instead, if you’re hyper and excited, you’ll have a great time just making stuff up just to make your partner laugh. If you like to tell stories, Fog of Love gives you a framework and prompts to do so. But as a board game, with all its rules and seeing who comes out a winner, it’s lacking.
The tutorial for Fog of Love is excellent, it eases you into playing the game and what all the decks of cards are meant to do, and how and why you’re tracking all of your character stats. It’s unique and makes a great first impression. If you and your partner hit your groove, you’ll likely walk away with a smile on your face. And that’s the charm! Not everyone wants to learn a whole new game every Friday night; just how many farming games can one brain sustain!? Fog of Love mixes up the play we’re used to, encourages board gamers to flex the creative muscles and ham it up with one another. As the story goes on, serious and dramatic scenes steal the energy away. Even though we both are acting, and we know we’re playing a game, I never want to even pretend that either of us would be unfaithful. Some of the event cards that come up that can trigger some baggage in your past, that can sour your experience. That said, no one is forcing you to play uncomfortable cards. Toss them across the room and focus your attention on what makes you happy.
There’s a delicate balance in Fog of Love. It’s trying to both be a game with mechanics and a score, as well as be a role-playing experience. I’m glad we played it, it showed me that my partner and I enjoy embodying characters and improv and gave us a real high experience. Once that was established, the game mechanics pulled us back down. The goal of ‘winning’ by achieving our destinies had us sabotage our relationship and left us deflated. Fog of Love isn’t for us anymore, if we want to be creative, we’ll do something that allows us to flex our creative muscles unhindered. If we want to play a game, we’ll play a game that really focuses on what makes games fun for us. I know this is the point, designer Jacob Jaskov says the point of Fog of Love was to fill the void of romantic games that would draw his romantic comedy loving partner into his hobby. I applaud Jacob, he’s designed a unique experience in Fog of Love. But ultimately, it doesn’t do either of it’s two roles well for me to fall in love with it.
Do you have control issues? Does the idea of relying on others to achieve your goals make your skin crawl? Are you the type of person who detests group projects and ends up doing everything because your teammates won’t do their portion of the work up to your level of expectations? Well, have I got a game for you!
Quirky Circuits by designer Nikki Valens and published by Plaid Hat Games is a cooperative action programming game for 2 – 4 players, and each mission plays in about 15 to 30 minutes. Quirky Circuits boasts 21 scenarios across 4 different characters to test your mental mettle and optimization skills. Each scenario will offer different objectives, from cleaning house while avoiding vases, to preparing and delivering sushi to hungry customers.
Released in 2019, Quirky Circuits sports an adorable calico on the box atop a roomba, chasing down a dust bunny as chaos reigns in the background. The cover and art by Danalyn Reyes is bright and colourful through the production. With 4 different characters, each sporting their own deck of action cards, depicting how the character is performing the action on the card. There’s charm and cuteness throughout the entire production that is sure to attract anyone passing by your table.
To play Quirky Circuits, all players told the only communications allowed are ‘BEEP BOOP”, and then are dealt an equal number of action cards. Players play their cards face down into a queue along the bottom of the board and after each player has played at least one card, they can indicate their intention of being ‘done’ by placing their hands flat on the table and passive-aggressively spew beeps and boops at the players who are needlessly pushing fate.
Once all players have agreed to end the round, the queue of actions is flipped up and executed. Once the command has been entered, there is no going back! After the queue has been exhausted, the cards are swept up, shuffled, and redistributed. The battery marker that acts as the game timer depletes by a single stage, and players continue on their quest.
Quirky Circuits is the kind of game that makes you assess why you’re coming to the gaming table. If the goal of the game is to win, making sure everyone is on the same page with priorities and strategies prior to playing is essential, as conflicting priorities will literally spin your character around in circles. If your goal is to have fun, then removing that fog of war also leaks the fun out of the game. I’d argue a perfectly played game is just an exercise in sorting cards. Yes, winning feels good, but overcoming the puzzle against all odds is immensely satisfying, and even losing in a spectacular fashion is more fun than following a pre-determined strategy and winning every-time.
The chaos and silliness is the beating heart of Quirky Circuits. We played a game where we were on the precipice of winning. It was the final turn possible, everyone played all their cards. By some stroke of luck, we sucked up the final dust bunny and were headed for home. We narrowly made it back to the spot adjacent to the final square. All that was left was to turn left, then move forward a single space. We flipped the second last card, it was a turn right. With dejected and heavy hearts, we flipped the final card, which was a move backwards. Elated, we threw our hands in the air, celebrating and laughing at our stroke of luck! The joy and full bellied laughter was an experience that most games can’t even come close to.
I’ve played a few other limited communication cooperative games, The Mind by Wolfgang Warsch, Magic Maze by Kasper Lapp, and The Crew: The Quest for Planet Nine by Thomas Sing are all games that I’ve enjoyed in the past. All feature limited communication, and share the same core joy of overcoming the puzzle through telekinesis, or pure luck. Where Quirky Circuits stands above these other titans is in its emergent narrative. Like, one time we had Gizmo move past a post that held a vase, leaving it unscathed. The next few cards had Gizmo backup, turn to face the vase, backed up a square, and RAN at the pillar, sending the vase crashing to the floor. Then, turning and continue on it’s original path. The story in our heads became Gizmo waltzed by the unscathed vase, then backed up saying “NOT ON MY WATCH, BUCKO!”. And it’s these stories and experiences that will stick in our minds and hearts, not an immaculate win rate.
