Wargame review — Infernal Machine

 

Death From Below

Designers: Ed Ostermeyer & Jeremy White
Player count: 1
Publisher: GMT Games

(Yes, the designer count outweighs the player count here. Only the first of many unusual things about this game.)

The year is 1862 and the Civil War rages on across the land. The infamous battles that erupt during that fateful year form a sadly familiar list: Second Bull Run, Antietam, Shiloh... joined by a few maritime endeavors very few are even aware of. 

Now, before we go any further, allow me step into the confines of this here confessional.
As a history nut and avid wargamer with a penchant for the American Civil War, I thought I was rather well read when it came to that turbulent period in US history. I had digested tome after tome on that topic (and I strongly recommend the late Shelby Foote's spellbinding three-volume history of the conflict) and played countless games that took me all over the country—hell, I've even visited several of the battlefields myself, and that includes retracing the steps of Pickett's charge near Gettysburg on the 150th anniversary of that terrible battle. Sure, I'd heard all about those newfangled ironclads (ships sheathed in metal!) but I'd never come across mentions of submarines—let me repeat this: SUBMARINES—taking part in the fighting. Then GMT announced they were toiling on a solitaire game called Infernal Machine and I had to retrieve my jaw from the floor.
I shall at this moment proceed to kneel with humility and say three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers as penance for this sin by ignorance, while you go on your merry way and read through the rest of this review.

But why start at the beginning like vulgar peasants?
Anyone who's played a Jeremy White game before won't be surprised, upon exploring this one, to discover that you have to learn to swim before you can even walk.

Take a Deep Breath

To wit: the game first throws you into the deep end (or, shall we say, below shallow), where your terrified crew find themselves crammed into one of those submerged "fishboats," cranking a propeller—oftentimes by hand!—until your strange vessel reaches its target and attempts to bring about its downfall.

All while trying not to get shot at, as you might have fathomed.

Armed with an explosive device attached to the end of a spar (imagine a long stick) which itself has been fastened to the prow of your craft, you need to navigate, preferably undetected, close enough to detonate your charge. Will the deflagration take out your objective, and perhaps your very own lives as well? You see, concussion is a real, horrible prospect, and many a fishboat—successful though it might have been—was never seen again.

Or maybe you'll be tasked with towing said charge at the end of a long rope, wherein the expectations are for your fishboat to pass under the target and detonate your weapon once it more or less reaches its intended destination.

Or else you'll need to send one of your men outside, stepping away from the fishboat's airlock (the technology actually predates the Civil War) wearing a diving suit, making sure the air hose connecting him to his vessel doesn't get kinked or tangled, and not swimming but walking at the bottom of the lake or river all the while CARRYING an explosive charge until he reaches the target, delivers the package, and then hurries back (well, yeah...) before detonating the bomb.

Now who's muttering one or two Our Fathers on the side?

Through this "tactical" segment, few decisions are required on your part. You'll decide whether you're inching closer to your target, whether you want to blow the charge you're carrying now or wait for a better timing (that may never come), or possibly opt to hightail it out of there if things take a turn for the worse. But overall, this stands more as a resolution step that brings together everything you've prepared for in one explosive moment.
Do not judge the entire game by this tiny sliver of experience: it's the rough equivalent of a conversion kick after a long and successful drive across the football field. What came before could fill an ocean. Or at the very least Charleston Harbor, right next to Fort Sumter.

Hold it In

Then, as you progress through the catalog of scenarios, the game requires that you take a step back and look at the overall mission upon which your valiant crew (and their unreliable machine) has embarked.

Leaving your port of call on the indicated mission board, you sail—underwater or otherwise, the choice is yours—against or with the tide, navigating the confluence of the Patience River and the Panic Canal while attempting to achieve the unheard-of before your vessel is declared lost with all hands.

Will you ask your brave souls to crank frantically and fight the tide (improving the effectiveness of your maneuvering but depleting your crew's energy) or just go with the flow at the risk of—well, everything?
Of course, once the enemy detects your presence, priorities change and trousers get soaked, and not just with water. Finding oneself under attack never fails to take a toll on already frayed nerves, and experiencing the same while aboard a prototypical submersible will not make things any easier. Fatigue sets in, terror (and then panic!) threatens to take over, all of it increasingly limiting your options. And you know what? All of this might happen (and indeed, it will) before your crew's presence is even detected. Underwater life often goes unnoticed; death even more so.

Until that soggy end, however, do your level best to manage your position as well as your elevation (careful when entering those shallow waters), and make sure you come up for air—and a much-needed dose of nerve calming—once in a while. With some determination and a little luck, you might just end up spotting a worthy target and then decide to risk the lives of your crew in order to undermine theirs.

But don't wait too long: the mission board quickly becomes a nasty push-your-luck device where time is your primary enemy. The above-mentioned fatigue and terror could do you in by themselves, but did I mention malfunctions and leaks? The dreaded Navigation and Discovery Cards, drawn during their respective turn steps, dispense most of the nasty surprises that will befall your crew, and you will need to allocate your efforts accordingly. Are your men cranking? Steering? Targeting? Or perhaps you want them to set all of that aside for a moment and concentrate on repairs—assuming you even have someone on board who knows how to handle a wrench.

You could be successful in your mission even if you never make it back home.
Try to find some solace in that.

Take the Plunge

Here's where the whole military enterprise shifts in an unexpected direction. (Don't act so surprised: you had to know you weren't out of the underwater woods yet.) The next handful of scenarios—the last ones before you're sent out on your own—require that you take a one last step back and look at the complete picture.
This is, finally, the campaign game.

And here's where the adventure truly begins. But you are not a military commander: you're an inventor. You will need to secure financing, build your fishboat from scratch, recruit crew members crazy enough to enlist for a potential burial at sea, and then send the cursed thing out there to accomplish one military mission or another, all the while dealing with contracts and new investors to keep your shop afloat. So make sure you can afford to keep building, go on subsequent (and, sadly, inevitable) recruitment drives, and try to maintain some measure of influence over how and where your contraption gets used—which turns out to be easier if you work for the Confederacy than if you decided to side with the Union, where your efforts will be absorbed by the national war machine.

Of course, the road to wherever you're going will not unspool in a neat, straight line. Special occurrences (appropriately called here "Fortunes of War") might hinder or assist your efforts, and the Almanac booklets—one for each side in the conflict—offer, deliciously, a different results table for each season of every year of the war.

From then on, the world is your oyster: you get to pick actions from a generous menu (one of which is Missions, amply discussed above) until you reach your allocation of Actions for that turn. When the time is up, that season's event acts like a coda to your shenanigans, and a new season rolls around.

Your campaign reaches a conclusion in 1865 (perhaps earlier if you're playing on the side of the Confederacy), and our trusty Almanacs provide closure in the form of Outcomes, doled out along three axes: Prospects (what's to become of you and your work right after the war), Effectiveness (an assessment of developments spawning from your successes and failures), and Legacy (your impact on history, and specifically submarine history).
The procedure creates a more rounded narrative conclusion than your typical VP total checked against a victory table, which, I feel, truly befits this peculiar game.

The campaign game in full swing

WAR PRODUCTION

The sheer tonnage of stuff that ships with Infernal Machine would suffice to anchor the average sloop. Counter sheets, an assortment of card decks, dozens of wooden cubes, and three dice—that's all fine. Now the game boards: one tactical board, two mission boards plus one gauges board, all mounted and all double-sided. Then cardboard support elements in the form of a pair of submarine displays (for training purposes), as well as three super handy player aid folders. 
And, finally, the booklets.
You've got the 60-page Rule Book, where everything springs from. You've also got the 60-page Scenarios book, replete with 10 scenarios and a healthy serving of fully illustrated examples. There is also another 60-ish-page book called the Cyclopedia, which doubles as a rules supplement and a historical companion; basically, if you want to dig a little deeper into any of the game concepts—both in terms of rules and actual historical facts—then the Cyclopedia is your companion. Rounding out the package are the two slightly thinner, aforementioned Almanacs: one for the USA and one for the CSA.

The amount of research here is positively insane: every bit of rules documentation is accompanied by historical notes (or else full-fledged treatises!) that ensure you emerge from your adventures a little more learned each time. How about a bio of every historical figure represented in the game? It's all in there.

The amount of errata has been kept to a minimum (and corrected documents are updated on the GMT Games site on a regular basis), and the green cubes that show up in the box were originally meant to be turquoise.
That's it for mishaps. Pretty remarkable, considering the scope of this production.

Pages? We've got pages.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Contrary to what it may look like, Infernal Machine is an easy game to learn.

No, you do not need to read all 60 pages of rules before you launch into your first game. I mean, you could certainly read the entire thing and set up a campaign right then and there, but the game was built to be learned one step at a time, in reverse. This ensures that you understand how everything you're preparing for will unfold; otherwise you'll find yourself making decisions on a whim during campaign planning, because you can't grasp the significance of a long spar or imagine the ill effects of an unlucky concussion roll. 
So do take it one step at a time, and walk backwards.

Mind you, playing through every single scenario is not a requirement. Once you get the gist of it, feel free to skip ahead, or perhaps read through the detailed examples to confirm that you've correctly digested that new batch of concepts and mechanics.

FUN FACTOR

The game offers a unique thrill, but that will not emerge from the first handful of scenarios. The tactical board will feel constrained, indeed insignificant; the mission board will provide a wider strategic outlook while at the same time fostering a sort of "is that it?" feeling; only the campaign game, with its gauges board and all-encompassing array of possibilities, will clear the last hurdle to a truly satisfying game experience. And what an experience! 

Each session puts you before agonizing decisions that echo down several layers. Wheels within wheels. At the same time, you'll keep encountering storytelling moments—and I'm not talking about those games where all you do is roll on results tables and read about what happens to your crew. Not at all. Everything that takes place on your adventures contributes to the mechanical puzzle you must solve to succeed, but also tells an engrossing story of personal achievements and local tragedies, while at the same time connecting with the threads of history on a higher level. 

Tactical scenarios felt intriguing, in an I-wonder-what-led-to-this kind of way. Mission scenarios really hit home: the terror is real. When your fishboat starts accumulating leaks and malfunctions, and your crew is riddled with fatigue/terror/panic markers, you start looking for an escape hatch yourself. I remember the feeling of dread that gripped me when, on my first mission, I realized my fishboat and its crew could freeze up in terror and sink to an early death before they even reached any sort of target.

And when I got to slip into the inventor's role in the campaign game, I did try to remain aloof and make rational business decisions. But the knowledge of what awaited my sailors kept rearing its ugly head and made me second-guess everything. (I am not a monster, despite convincing rumors to the contrary.)

Even as I'm typing this, I'm itching to go back and try to do better. Can I achieve the highest level of success on the Legacy table of outcomes?
"Beijing, 1986. Admiral Zhang Lianzhong, the old submariner and now deputy commander of the navy, approves his new office. On his desk sits a scale model of a famous 19th century artifact (your fishboat)."

Maybe one day.

PARTING SHOTS

When I first started learning the game, I ran into something that always irritates me in a rulebook: some die rolls would succeed on a result that's greater than or equal to a target number, while other rolls would succeed on a result that's less than a target number. Why not define success the same way in both instances? Either you make that target number of your don't. Way simpler to remember.

But then I realized the "greater than or equal to" criterion applied to my die rolls, while "less than" applied to the die rolls made by the various automated systems. In other words, I always want to see high rolls: they help me, or they hinder the game attempting to sabotage my efforts.

So it's all about the experience, about adopting those guys' point of view, putting yourself in their shoes. And hoping that, by some miracle, you escape that tin box alive.

(If you take a closer look at the game's cover, you'll notice that this particular fishboat has already detonated a charge and apparently survived the operation. Will it make it home, though?)

# # #

Flash Review — Luthier

Players: 1-4 

Works well with just 2: Yes!
Age: 14+ 
Playtime: 90-150 minutes
Complexity: 8/10

You were born to a family of renowned instrument makers in the halcyon days of classical music. And you shall devote your life to the making, maintenance and promotion of your genius creations—as long as generous patrons keep your whole enterprise afloat, it goes without saying.

Over six rounds, players compete for resources, instrument blueprints, repair contracts and performance opportunities, all while advancing their reputations as masters of their craft.

Now do not brush Luthier aside as just another medium-heavy worker placement game. It comes with an exciting twist: each worker is a disc (numbered from 1 through 5) placed face down on the action of your choice. Normally, the owner of the first worker dropped on a location gets first dibs; unless, that is, another worker there is revealed to sport a higher value, in which case workers are switched around. 
So do you really need to use your 5 there? Or will a 3 do the trick, freeing your top worker to exert their influence elsewhere?

The theme is fantastic, superbly well integrated into the game mechanics, and the production is lavish enough to have Stradivari make a double-take. (Even the lowly "retail edition" looks great, with the deluxe version turning the glam up to 11.)
The rulebook might appear daunting, but Luthier's not a complicated game to learn. Playing it well, though? Might be faster to just pick up the cello.

Most easily forgotten rule: A patron's cube resets each time you satisfy one of their requirements.

# # #

My Top 10 Boardgames Published in 2025

      

Here's a look at my 10 favorite games published in 2025.

(Or else made available in North America so late in 2024 that there was no way to really play them before the calendar flipped.)

#10

MATRX GIPF

The culmination of the entire Project GIPF, this ninth entry is more complex than all of its predecessors, without shaving away any of the depth and addictiveness that have been hallmarks of this series of abstract games since 1996. I'll be playing this for years to come, and probably will never get very good at it.

(You can read my flash review here.)

#9

OFF THE LINE

I've never been secretive about my profound and life-altering love of Combat Commander, which always makes me a bit leery of trying out other WWII tactical wargames. But I've got to admit that where several others have floundered, Off the Line managed to hook me, and hook me good. It's the most original tactical system I've encountered thus far, and has forced me to relearn many systems I thought I was done digesting a long time ago. And I mean that in a good way.

It won't dislodge CC in my heart, but what could?

#8

VANTAGE

Now this cooperative contraption is not going to be for everyone, and that's fine. With loosely stated win/loss conditions, it might go so far as to defy the very definition of a game and cross into "experience" territory. You're exploring an alien planet, every session will be different, and you pretty much decide when the game is over. Just jump in and go where the river takes you; I promise it'll be intriguing.

#7

FIELDS OF FIRE - DELUXE EDITION

Yeah yeah yeah, the original dates back to almost 20 years ago—I care not! This deluxe edition was published in 2025 and it bulldozed everything that came before: easier to learn, easier to play, and snazzier than ever. It's still a beast of a game to get into, don't get me wrong. But GMT has done everything in their power to open the door as wide as possible while you ease yourself in. Feel like jumping into solo tactical WWII action with more material than you can shake a whole platoon of sticks at, and more expansions on the way? Look no further.

(You can read my components review here.)

#6

SPEAKEASY

Despite designer Vital Lacerda not topping this Top Ten list like he did back in 2020, he's still making a strong showing with his latest opus, about profiting from illegal booze during the US prohibition. Speakeasy is a heavy game that's somehow more approachable than many of its brethren, in no small part thanks to an engaging theme that facilitates both learning and remembering the many rules found herein. (It also doesn't make the life of the rules explainer an absolute hell the way Weather Machine did...)

#5

TAKE TIME
Partners sit around a clock face showing special instructions and restrictions, and must silently play their cards (most of them face down) around said clock so that when revealed, the sum of the cards in each sector keeps going up all around the clock. One mishap and you start over; but victory allows you to move on to the next clock, where all new challenges and brain rewiring schemes await.

The superstar cooperative game I had on last year's Top Ten list was Bomb Busters (at number 2!) and it went on to win the Spiel des Jahres (game of the year) award in Germany. Will similar honors be lavished onto Take Time in 2026? I wouldn't be surprised.

#4

FIGHTING FORMATIONS - US 29th INFANTRY DIVISION

This new entry in the Fighting Formations series gives you more of everything you loved about the original, this time bringing the searchlight to shine on the exploits of a specific American division. Driven by the now classic initiative matrix —quite useful for barking orders all around in an organized manner—the game proposes a trove of scenarios of the small and large and holy-crap-this'll-take-all-night varieties, which makes it an ideal entry point for any newcomer.

(You can read my review here.)

#3

SETI

Scan the skies, launch probes, develop your technology and analyze all of the data you've gathered—and once you get in touch with actual aliens (because you will), make the best of what you manage to learn from our new friends.

Seti is one of those so-called Eurogames that sit right on the fence between heavy fare and gateway game; it's a challenging engine you can teach in a very reasonable amount of time, and even though your typical game will last around two hours, it won't feel like two hours. And that rotating solar system is just brilliant.

Whether you end up winning or losing, Seti makes it super engaging just to pull its lever and watch it go, and it certainly gets my vote for next year's Kennerspiel des Jahres (expert game of the year) in Germany.

#2

STAR TREK - CAPTAIN'S CHAIR

I was already a fan of the first few titles (known under the name Imperium) that use this civ-ish deckbuilding engine, but Captain's Chair takes everything to a new level. True, it is a more complex game, but it puts nothing out of reach of the average gamer. And it infuses the proceedings with more interaction between players than its older brothers ever provided.

I would go so far as calling it the best Star Trek game I've ever played while at the same time maintaining that you don't need to be a trekkie at all to thoroughly enjoy Captain's Chair. Just sit in it and see if you want to get up again.

#1

CIVOLUTION

There's always a smattering of Stefan Feld designs to be found around my blog, and this year is no different. Still, I've never encountered a Feld game quite like Civolution.

Players are superior intelligences more or less attempting to raise new civilizations in a lab. With more options at your fingertips—and enough stuff spilling out of the box to send you running to IKEA to buy an extra table or two—the game looks like it'll be impossible to digest. On the contrary, it's one of the most organic learning experiences you'll have encountered all year, and it's pure joy to see that engine run. Learn as you go, enjoy the discovery, and thank the graphic designers who came up with visuals that make everything crystal clear!

* * *

DISAPPOINTMENTS
I define disappointments as games I expected a lot from, and which failed to deliver. Here are the "top" three from 2024.

Martin Wallace has long been a favorite designer of mine, but his output has equally long been a hit-or-miss affair. And Aeterna sits unequivocally on the miss side of the line. The system is fine, I guess? But it's just that: a system. One that's looking for a game but also, more importantly, for a soul. And there's nary to be found here.

I'm always looking for THE pirate game that'll feel like it was designed just for me, and this one certainly is not that. Oh it's got heart and theme aplenty! It's just lacking everything else, especially meaningful player decisions. It's not because you're rolling dice on a thousand different tables that you're playing a game.

Look at it this way: If this were a computer game, the close-to-nil level of human input required to keep the thing moving forward would have people screaming bloody murder.

Is it an LOTR game? Sure. Is it a cooperative trick-taking thing? I am compelled to answer in the affirmative. Does it do anything that The Crew doesn't accomplish way, way better? Er, no. (Especially The Crew: Mission Deep Sea—just go play that and don't look back.)

This is just an inferior design that sells because it's got LOTR slapped all over it. Don't fall for the shiny trap.

* * *

STRAGGLERS
Let's end on a high note with three games that would have made my Top Ten had I encountered them back in the year when they were published.

With the Fischer-Spassky Championship for a backdrop, this little gem pulls a miniature Twilight Struggle of an engine to get your pulse racing in 30 minutes, no chess knowledge required. I can't believe it took me two years to get around to playing it.

There's something impressive about designing a two-player shedding game with minimal components and a core system that's so simple you can explain it in one sentence, and yet so deep your brain won't fully grasp its implications until you've played at least a few hands.

I was completely blown away by this.

Another cooperative game? 'Tis the season, it seems. This one has you and your favorite buccaneer trick-taking your way through treacherous waters, dry-as-bone islands, maelstroms and the actual kraken! With its magnificent components and clever mechanics, Sail will go a long way towards tempting me to dive into the legacy version that I hear is coming out in 2026.

# # #

The Play's the Thing

 

The existence of the most recent edition of Combat Commander made me wake up to two startling realizations.

First, my favorite game in the entire universe is celebrating its 20th anniversary. Already! And second, I’ve never written a proper review of this extraordinary opus.

Sure, I’ve penned a handful of articles about other entries in the series, but I never got around to typing an honest-to-goodness review of the game that started it all.

And I’m not going to do that today, either.

Rather, what I want to write is a love letter to the game I cherish most.

Why is it that, under normal circumstances, there’s a more than fair chance I’d rather play Combat Commander over anything else? What makes the contents of that box so appealing and so addictive? Why, oh why, after close to 600 plays (and we’re talking about a two-hour game, here), do I still anticipate with trepidation my next foray into those cardboard bunkers and hedgerows?

The answer to all of those questions is both simple and delightfully convoluted.

I met Chad Jensen—the man who would later give us Combat Commander—back in 1998, when I’d just set foot in northern California for a two-year stint at Lucasfilm. We lived in neighboring towns and our common passion was boardgames, so we were bound to run into each other before too long. We became friends; how could we not? Strangely enough, I showed him a prototype of mine the following year. (That game was Proteus, eventually published by Steve Jackson Games.) In return, Chad did—  well, nothing. He never showed me one of his designs, never even mentioned he was working on a handful of games. Nothing against me: Chad was just not the kind of guy who would have you taste a half-baked lasagna, even if it might be the best half-baked lasagna in the history of humankind. And so it was that I discovered that well kept secret about my friend along with the rest of the world in 2006, when GMT Games put out the title that would overrun so many others in my collection.

As of this writing, I have played well over 1,700 different games over the years, and I enjoy all kinds, from the purest of abstracts (something like GIPF) to bloated plastic dungeon crawlers (think Nemesis), and everything in between. But wargames hold a special place in my heart, for a wide variety of reasons. I had already played many of them by the time Combat Commander came along, but I had never experienced something quite like it.

So what is Combat Commander? It’s a WWII tactical clash between two players that generally involves a low number of units operating across a constrained area. You move a bunch of units on a hex grid, attempt to take valuable objectives, eliminate threats, sometimes assaulting across lush fields in broad daylight, other times clearing one house after another in a bloody night raid supposed to be worth it all when the sun comes up.

Did you see what happened there? I started with a clinical description of basic game mechanics, but the story quickly took over.

THAT is Combat Commander.

The game tells a story. It also does many other things and does them well, but the story is what stays with you after the last gun was silenced and all the pieces have gone back into the box.

How does it tell that story? An excellent question.

And I believe the answer is to be found in three specific places.

They'll never take that hill... right?

1. ACTION RESTRICTIONS

Games allow players to make decisions in different ways. Some wargames allow each unit to act every turn, installing the player as ultimate master of their domain. Other systems provide a number of action points on each turn, leaving it up to the player to allocate said points amongst selected units, as they see fit; units thus activated can then perform whatever action is deemed necessary, but not all units will act on every turn. In yet other cases, the game will dictate which units can act, but allow the player to decide what actions to perform with them.

With Combat Commander, each player is dealt a hand of cards: those are the orders units can be given on that turn, usually one card to a unit or a handful of units. The order you had in mind doesn’t appear on any of your cards this turn? Tough.

This level of restriction is one of the highest in the wargaming realm, and yet—ironically enough—it’s from those shackles that true creativity can emerge with the most grace.

Picture a game of chess. Before your move, through the roll of a die, knights are rendered inoperable for one turn. Suddenly, the attack you had planned can’t proceed. Will you decide to maintain that attack? If so, how? And if you change your plan, what will it become? Will you opt for a holding pattern until Lady Luck paralyzes a piece of a different nature? Or settle for a retreat, hastily put together to compensate for your neutered forward thrust?

That’s how it goes with Combat Commander. The terrain ahead is ideal, your units are in place, one of the enemies in sight is already broken (making for an even better target)… You draw your hand of cards, and—thanks again to that mercurial Lady—you don’t hold a single Fire card. What do you do? You can skip your turn to throw away your hand of cards and hope you get some ammunition on the redraw, or you can try to make the best of a bad situation. Perhaps there’s a way to use your Rout card to push that wounded enemy soldier some spaces back, which would enable you to play one of your Move cards to get your own units even closer to your goal. Perhaps you decide instead to move a single unit towards a different objective, hoping to draw the enemy’s fire and make your opponent waste a precious Fire card—a card they will no longer hold should you move your men around at a later time. Or you could elect to hold fast and discard just those cards that wouldn’t be of any use against a counterattack that your opponent, faced with your inaction, might decide to launch.

Without anyone noticing, the story is taking form. Instead of being “and then my guys started firing at the opposing squad,” it morphs into a more engaging “my guys wanted to shoot but couldn’t, so instead they had to resort to…”

See how memorable this is shaping up to be?

Some players detest the vagaries of such a system, stating that they prefer more control—fair enough. Combat Commander aficionados, on the other hand, relish those spur-of-the-moment challenges the game throws at us. In a way, we also feel it makes the proceedings a bit more realistic (to the extent that a tabletop game can lay such a claim), in the sense that in the heat of battle, not all of your orders will reach their intended recipients, and then not all orders that do will get executed without a hitch.

2. RANDOM EVENTS

This stands as another apple of discord amongst wargamers: Once in a while, a random event will throw a wrench in the proceedings. You or your opponent might receive unexpected reinforcements; a blaze could start in a building, spread to the nearby woods and cut off your main access point; air support might kill units you believed safe; off-board artillery could create a brand new foxhole for opposing units to exploit—the list goes on. While a category of players cannot stand this state of affairs, I (and many others) absolutely love it. Yes, I’ve been robbed of an inescapable victory—and been saved from certain defeat—more than once by those random events, and they’re still one of the main draws of Combat Commander for me. There’s something thrilling in the knowledge that the game will throw you a curveball, something you couldn’t possibly prepare for, and force you to deal with it. 

Again, this contributes to the story the game is writing. The lone team bleeding out in those northern woods and that everyone assumed was done for? Turns out a hero emerged, patched them up and led them out of those woods to fight another day.

You might not have planned for this, but now you need to reckon with that reality. Revise your analysis of the situation, edit your mindset, and contribute a new chapter to the narrative.

3. HISTORICAL SCENARIOS

Each game of Combat Commander runs on parameters established by a scenario, which specifies the forces involved, the number of turns the game will last, hand size for each player, and so on. GMT has published over 100 official scenarios, almost all of which are based on actual WWII engagements. Reading the historical summary before the opening salvo is a ritual we rarely skip: it pries open the narrative door and lets in the winds of fate. 

Which makes the entire experience even better: not only does each game craft a story that both players contribute to, but that emerging tale is also based on true events. How amazing is that? True, most wargames reenact a historical situation, but none of them allows you to add your own ingredients to the story with such dramatic flair.

(And if you’re still not sated, the system’s robust random scenario generator will spit out period-appropriate skirmishes to keep your imagination engaged until the cows come home.)

A typical Combat Commander scenario

The level of creativity made possible by the combination of those three elements is not a frequent occurrence in gaming, and even rarer of a phenomenon when it comes to wargames. Combat Commander provides players with a sandbox and hands over quite a lot of freedom as to how players will interact with it, but it also litters the sandbox with a bunch of mines that force players to be creative, lest they don’t survive the experience.

That’s how stories emerge, and that’s how we can’t help but remember them.

(I still vividly recall a session from a decade ago where a hero kept calling for artillery support, only to see those shells drift back far enough to fall on his own troops. Again and again, at least half a dozen times. Laughing so hard we needed to grab the table so we wouldn’t fall off our chairs, it was clear to us the story was running wild: we wondered if some strange and powerful wind had anything to do with the repeated shell malfunctions, or if our beloved hero was just the most inept soldier ever to grace a battlefield, transmitting erroneous coordinates every time he contacted HQ. We still debate the issue to this day, with a grin the passing years have not yet begun to erode.)

And the game keeps on giving. I mean, after over a thousand hours spent playing Combat Commander and interacting with its myriad systems, I still witness stuff I’ve never encountered before: a bold new use for a card, a surprising tactic born out of pure desperation, a concurrence of events that give birth to an astounding situation, or just a unit that—against all odds—refuses to give in and ends up carrying the day.

* * *

My friend Chad died in 2019, after a valiant battle against cancer. Because I had moved back to the other end of the North American continent, I never got a chance to sit down to a game of Combat Commander with him. Sure, online options had surfaced by then, but we kept putting it off, convinced we’d get a chance to sit face-to-face for a lively match one of those years. Alas, that opportunity never presented itself.

Despite everything, I’m thankful I was afforded the chance to tell Chad, over a long overdue phone call, how much happiness his creation (one of many!) had brought into my wargaming life. At that he responded by being Chad, simply saying “you’re welcome” with a smile I could hear in his voice from five thousand kilometers away. 

Every time I crack open my box of Combat Commander I can still hear that smile, clear as a bell, crisp as that spring morning back in ‘45, when the days were growing warmer and the evenings longer...

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Flash Review — Eagles in the Sky

Players: 2 
Age: 12+ 
Playtime: 15-240 min (for the campaign game!)
Complexity: 8/10

Take to the heavens in your trusty Sopwith Camel and try to get into an advantageous position behind that Fokker DR.I with the red livery... before he does it to you first.

Recent games that model air combat during the Great War are few and far between, which makes Eagles in the Sky all the more inviting. And coming from Revolution Games, the package was too hard to resist.

The game runs on a system of relative positions: there's no map across which aircraft glide and try to find each other. Rather, if you spot an enemy at your altitude (or manage to climb or dive to meet them there), you can play a card whose value gets added to the relevant maneuver rating of your aircraft. And if the opponent can't match that sum, you'll find yourself tailing them and in a position to shoot. Then it's all a matter of better exploiting the enemy's weaknesses so you can improve your position and keep tailing them until you can send their flying machine down in flames. 
But that's assuming they won't manage to shake you off their tail—or worse, turn the tables and start shooting back!

A single engagement (either historical with set parameters, or generated randomly using a series of handy tables) can be over in as few as 15 action-packed minutes. The real jewel, however, is to be found in the campaign system, which strings together five intense days of sorties with a variety of missions: strafing trenches, taking down balloons, bombing enemy positions, the classic patrol, and more.

Be mindful of the weather, track your hardware, repair and replace aircraft, train new pilots, and just pray they survive long enough to get better at the job and—we can only hope—one day turn into aces.

The game is fast and fun, with even campaign games short enough to keep you hungry for more.

Most easily forgotten rule: When you're tailing an aircraft in a climb, you can only attack it using a Climb maneuver card.


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Flash Review — Sail

 

Players: 2
Age: 11+ 
Playtime: 20 min
Complexity: 4/10

Cooperative trick-taking games were unheard of just a few years ago, and then The Crew came along to show the world just what we'd been missing.

Sail is another one of those, similar in some ways to Jekyll & Hyde vs Scotland Yard, but this time pitting two partners against the dangers of the high seas.

The game is played with a three-suited card deck and a grid of diamond spaces, where players work together to get their pirate ship to its destination while avoiding the dreaded Kraken. This is accomplished through a series of tricks: one player lays down a card, and the other must follow suit if they can, or else play any card from their hand.

Each card shows a number (from 1 through 9) along with a symbol, and the combination of symbols played by both players determines what happens next. Two steering wheels? Move the ship one space forward, in the direction of the player who won the trick. A wheel/tentacle and a cannon? The ship stays put, but the wheel/tentacle card goes to the Kraken deck (more on this below). Two mermaids? Move the ship forward across the diamond diagonal—that's like two moves in one!
And so on.

Halfway through the learning scenario

Whenever the Kraken would attack the ship (there are multiple cases when this happens), discard a specified number of cards from the Kraken deck. If the Kraken deck ever runs out of cards, the ship sinks and the game is lost.

But make it in one piece to one of the end spaces, and victory is yours!... Until the next scenario, which makes life unavoidably more difficult for the players.

Sail is a real gem of a game, with beautiful art, addictive gameplay and a conveniently small footprint.

Most easily forgotten rule: There's not much to forget here, but how about this—at the end of each round, the Kraken attacks the ship a number of times equal to the value under the Kraken meeple on the Kraken board.



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