The evolution of a solo gamer

This is the story of a solo adventurer who has reached the end of a quest he set out on years ago. While the outcome wasn’t the one he expected when he first ventured out, it is one he is at peace with after years that have passed. Join me as I share the outcome of my quest for a solo adventure game, why it wasn’t what I expected, and what I have come to discover in the meantime. 

EDITORIAL NOTE: This article is a follow-up of sorts to my quest for an adventure game. I would recommend you to read that before reading this, as there is some continuity between them. As a matter of fact, not everything I discuss here is fully fleshed out because sometimes I will assume you have read the previous post lest I needlessly repeat myself. 

In my previous post, I talked about my quest to find a solitaire game to play that gave me a story to take part in. Spoiler – I haven’t found it, at least the way I envisioned it. Arkham Horror LCG kinda does the trick, and so does Earthborne Rangers (which wasn’t a thing back when I wrote that post). But not in the way that I was looking for; it’s like trying to make gold from iron but getting silver instead – pretty neat, but not what you set out to do (or going to your FLGS for a certain game and leaving with another – or two). 

My early gaming years

I used to play video games often; I still play them, but not as much as I did back then. Nowadays, I generally play more board games, although occasionally I have bouts where I play a particular game a lot. My video game preference was, has been, and will probably always be, the narrative, immersive game that allows you to experience a particular story. 

I guess that’s what I have been looking for in cardboard form, ever since I started playing solo board games a lot. Being the only player at the table to take into account, I can craft my experience to my exact needs. Just like I can do with video games – I can grab a drink in the middle of a tough sequence, or just pause it whenever I feel like it. Not having to adhere to other people’s rules or social standards is perhaps why I’ve never played online multiplayer games as well. 

My early solo gaming years

So my quest for a solo adventure board game began. Except it turned out to be a futile quest – at least for me. Until I played The 7th Citadel, I was unconsciously chasing what turned out to be a castle in the sky, something that does not exist. It’s weird to end my quest this way, but at least it provides clarity – and instantly disincentivizes me to chase a whole bunch of different games that come out every year (week, even). 

I had high hopes for The 7th Citadel – after loving The 7th Continent but souring on it, I knew the system had promise. After trying The 7th Continent, I can definitely say the system is promising – just not for a gamer like me. There was just too much for me to keep track of; necessary stuff, but detracting from the main experience all the same. Which is why I could never play a tabletop game of Gloomhaven solo; we used to play it with a group of four through the pandemic, and currnelty I am replaying it two-handed solo on my PS5. In other words, as long as the upkeep can either be distributed among players or have a digital device take care of it, I don’t think ‘wide’ games are the games I want to play. 

My solo stroke of genius

I went out of my way to get The 7th Citadel, ordered sleeves, and then just as quickly unloaded the game on the secondary market. A waste of money, time, and effort? Perhaps – but it did provide me with a, perhaps invaluable, insight. 

I do not need campaign games. There is too much upkeep to keep me out of the experience, and even then it is hard to miss something. Like I said before, games like Arkham Horror LCG and Earthborne Rangers are within boundaries, but only barely – especially Arkham seems to be stretching these as of late, so much so that I’ve decided to let the game be for a few months. It felt weird to say after 100+ plays that it was time for the game to move on.

Tomorrow, as of this writing, someone is coming to pick up my entire collection. Maybe I’ve let myself be held hostage by the sunk cost fallacy for too long; when you are dreading to get a game back to the table, is it really the right game for you anymore?

The euro renaissance

Something that has been brewing during the apotheosis of my adventure game quest (either as a logical consequence or as a coincidence) has been the rekindling of my love for euro games. I used to love big heavy games like Underwater Cities, A Feast for Odin, and Gaia Project, yet at a time, there was a point where my collection had little to no euro games in it. 

I think it all started (again) with Hallertau. I was interested in the way it foregoes strategic scoring cards in favour of more tactical ones that give you smaller goals that still give you a reward, but don’t require you to plan five turns in advance. Also, no ‘feed your people’. A few months later I managed to trade for a copy of Glass Road and Nusfjord, especially the latter being a solo classic. And I can see why – reviews of all three games will come at some point or another, but needless to say, they have rekindled my passion for euro games, especially the ones that are quick to table. You can play three subsequent games of Nusfjord in under an hour if you know what you’re doing. 

Beat-your-own-score games used to be a red flag for me; not anymore. Right now, I’m more interested in building an engine and making it work. Doing X this turn so I can do Y the next. A scoring threshold is nice to have, but if I have been crunching the numbers for half an hour and I had a nice experience, that’s more important to me than knowing whether I’ve won or lost. 

The endorphin trickle

What I signaled with modern euro games, and Revive in particular, is that these kinds of games are moving away from big payoffs that require an awful lot of planning to more upfront rewards that can start as early as the first turn. In Revive, especially, you hit the ground running and can do some cool tricks before your first hibernate action! I recently played Tzolk’in, an older game that is almost the opposite of that; you don’t score a lot of points, but the game makes you work for them (and makes you feel insignificant, futile, and stupid in the process – at least that’s what it did to me).  

Newer games recognize this and more often give you a constant trickle of rewards, points, and/or resources; in other words, small pockets of endorphin to keep you engaged. And I am. The slow drip feed of points as a result of my actions is something I appreciate more nowadays than a story-based experience can. Right now, euro games are my jam, and if I desire a narrative experience, I’m more likely to switch on my PS5 than get out a board game that seeks to emulate something I haven’t really experienced outside of video games. 

The throes of being a reviewer

Let me be clear – I am a reviewer because I call myself that. Fueled primarily by my enthusiasm, I occasionally get review copies, but I am my own boss. I don’t have deadlines, I don’t get compensation, and I can do everything at my own pace. Yet, I sometimes feel some kind of pressure to get out content – it rarely affects the quality of the content, but it does affect my gaming. 

It happens all too often that I play a game a couple of times and then forget about it, because I have other games to review (not just review copies). In other words, I’m playing to write; not the other way around, which was why I started doing this. Because I like diving into games, also the ones I have reviewed, and playing them multiple times in short succession to discover strategies and overall tactics to improve in my plays.

It feels like I could be on the brink of yet another breakthrough, where I can let the urge to review games slide a bit to sink my teeth into one game at a time and crank out some plays. I know I’ve said this in my year-in-reviews of 2022 and 2023, but I really need to focus on quality over quantity. I hope my recent discoveries help me put my money where my mouth is. 

Sorry, dear campaign games – it’s not you, it’s me.

Shout-out to my buddy Razoupaf for challenging me to turn this idea into a written piece.