A lot of games today are difficult. I remember the first time I played Agricola. The constant pressure to accumulate food was like a cracking whip, driving the game forward come hell or high water. Used properly, innate difficulty in a design makes for a lot of good stuff. It can add tension and really juice up decisions in-game. But when it’s overused it can be a drag. Euro designs are often guilty of this. I have a friend who loves the games of Stefen Feld, but most of his stuff leaves me cold for this reason. It’s just not much fun for me to eek out a couple of extra gold to take a slightly more powerful action. Oh hooray, I lose a little less ground than usual this turn. It’s getting bad in more American designs too. Games like Middle Earth Quest and the Lord of the Rings card game both give the rack an extra crank. You spend as much time struggling against the game as anything else. This is true even in games that aren’t cooperative. It becomes an question of who can manipulate this system the best, and I’m just not very interested in that.

The smell of the salt breeze. The creak of rigging in the air. You’re in sight of the port of Tobago, when you see a ship off in the distance, on an intercept course. Word from the crows-nest is that the ship has run up the fleur-de-lis. The French Navy! You order the crew to man their stations and load the cannons. As the larger ship draws closer, volleys of fire are exchanged, shattering masts and shredding sails. All at once, grappling hooks sail from the enemy ship. They’re trying to board! As the enemy pours onto your ship, your crew fights to the last man. Will you survive long enough to protect your precious gold and valuable cargo?

A while back, I reviewed Tichu, the classic climbing game. For those who don’t feel like finding the review, let me save you the trouble: it’s a terrific game. You should buy it, okay? But here’s its one weakness: it requires four people. Yeah, I know you can play Tichu three-handed. But that’s pretty clearly not the way it was meant to be played. It involves dummy hands, switching partnerships, and individual scoring. It works, but it’s not ideal. And forget about even trying Tichu with two people. It doesn’t work. So what is the short-handed Tichu addict supposed to do?

I’ve always been attracted by the idea of a collectible game. I like the concept of a game that remains fresh and alive over the course of several years. It sounds cool to be able to create the kind of experience you want, and to compete against friends who have created their own experience. But in practice, I really don’t have the stomach for a collectible game. Five-dollar packs of cards add up quickly, and many collectible games end up consuming all other games in their path. In fact, I know several CCGers who speak of their time in the collectible world like recovering addicts. It’s like an episode of The Biggest Loser, except most gamers have the decency to leave their shirts on. And don’t get me started on the guy who learns some amazing combo or deck on the internet, and then proceeds to ruin the game for his friends. Even when people aren’t copying some deck from the internet, I have almost zero patience for poring over stacks of cards to decide whether I want three or four copies of Greater Derpstorm in my deck. That means that I will be summarily defeated by the guy who has fine-tuned his deck like a very nerdy muscle car. And that doesn’t even touch on the money pit that is the collectible miniatures world.

Hey, read this where I originally wrote it, The Rumpus Room. Hand-pumped silt from the dry well of game criticism.