Trash or Treasure? #3: Pandemic

Up until, say, the early 1990s, if you grew up in the United States, Canada, (maybe) Britain, and (possibly) Australia, you grew up with the popular board games, like Monopoly, Clue (or Cluedo), Scrabble, Stratego, Risk, Life, and so on. Indeed, the board game producers Parker Brothers and Milton Bradley seemed to monopolize (pun intended) our childhood board game culture. Interestingly, though, there was a surprising lack of cooperative strategic games. Sure, games like Pictionary and Taboo were cooperative party games, but there was little strategy involved, per se (note: I'm not going to argue about the tactics of Taboo, which involve knowing your teammates so that you can provide the best clues).

Pandemic was not the first cooperative strategy game; to my knowledge, Shadows over Camelot pre-dated it by three years, and dungeon crawl games existed long before that. Yet, Pandemic was certainly the most impactful in the golden age of Eurogames. Released in 2008, Pandemic is a 2-5 player game (though you could play 2-5 roles by yourself) in which each player assumes a role that grants them a unique ability. During each turn, the active player can perform up to four actions, such as moving from one city to another, or performing one or more special actions, such as removing one disease cube from an infected city per action. However, each role has abilities that bend these rules; for instance, the ever-useful Medic role can remove all of one type of disease cubes in a city with only one action.  

After the four actions are completed, the player draws two cards. Then, the player draws three City cards; the first City card drawn requires the players to put three disease cubes on the indicated city; the second City gets two cubes; and the third city gets one cube. Each city were infected with a specific disease cube depending on the region (e.g. Asia generally gets the red disease cubes). In this way, each player plays his turn, and then plays as the game's artificial intelligence (AI), so to speak. I would guess that playing as the game AI was not a novel concept, but that combined with cooperative play created a feeling that everyone was somehow creating their own problems despite themselves.

Gameplay ends when all four diseases are "cured," which results in victory for the players. If the players fail to do that before all of one particular disease's cubes (25 of them) have been deployed, the draw pile is completed depleted, or before there have been eight Outbreaks (when a city exceeds three of one disease's [color] cubes, which cases excess cubes to spread to neighboring cities), they lose. Everyone loses -- not one player... Everyone. Of course, I'm excluding several details because I want to avoid a rules explanation; the basic idea is that you win as a team, and you lose as a team, which was not a common concept, especially among the Parker Brothers and Milton Bradley games.

With an accessible theme, a one-hour play time, a low price point of around $30 USD in 2008, and a smaller box than a lot of the connoisseur games out at the time, Pandemic ascended to the throne of quintessential gateway co-op board game. The first release featured wooden cubes (which seemed just so en vogue at the time), sleek and simple art, and (later on) an expansion that added a "Bio-Terrorist" role and a purple-colored disease. The ascension of Pandemic was such that stores like Target and Barnes & Noble prominently displayed it in their game aisles. My first exposure to it was in 2010 when a few friends at work invited me to play with them during the lunch break. Instantly, I realized the family potential of it; even my young sons could play and enjoy it. When I purchased it and brought it home, my boys appreciated it, though my wife found the theme (and the rapid spread of disease cubes) disconcerting and unenjoyable. Nonetheless, I comprehended the impact of Pandemic in hobby gaming.

As of 2022, there are numerous co-op offerings, such as Gloomhaven, Battlestar Galactica, Robinson Crusoe, Saboteur, Forbidden Island/Desert, and the aforementioned Shadows over Camelot; there are team versus team co-op games like Captain Sonar and Specter Ops; and there are versions of Pandemic that involve making permanent changes to the cards and game board, such as Pandemic Legacy.

Should I trash or treasure Pandemic?

At a Game Weight of 2.47 on Board Game Geek, Pandemic is challenging enough for seasoned gamers to enjoy, yet easy enough to learn to attract casual gamers. It can be played in an hour, which may be a great transition game between two more complex games or the primer game before the multi-hour game starts. Whatever the case, Pandemic is often a suitable choice for any game night.

If I am really hankering to play a cooperative game, though, I prefer the deeper Robinson Crusoe, which has so much going for it: superlative art, lots of mechanics at work, and a weird sense of foreboding that reminds me of the television show Lost (minus the Smoke Monster). An amusing semi-cooperative game I also favor is Between Two Castles of Mad King Ludwig, which compels you to cooperate with your neighbors, but not TOO much.

Because my copies of Pandemic and the expansion are vintage, first-edition versions, I will not be selling them. That iteration of Pandemic is a work of art and fun to unpack and set up. Occasionally, I bring it out to teach Gen Xers and Millennials how co-op games work. There is no shame in keeping this classic, and the box (even with the expansion) is still slimmer than many of my other games, so it doesn't take up much space.

Should you trash or treasure Pandemic?

For the first two games I discussed in this Trash or Treasure series, I could not convince myself to recommend trashing them... and I still cannot suggest trashing Pandemic. It is the archetypal cooperative game that serves as a fine gateway into a world of tying your success or failure with other players. There are some wonderful gateway games you could acquire, such as Forbidden Island or Forbidden Desert, which just so happen to be designed by Matt Leacock, who designed Pandemic. Either one of those games boast more whimsical themes, adorable miniatures, and sweet tin boxes instead of cardboard boxes. Yet, I ended up selling my copy of Forbidden Desert because, well, I own Pandemic. Thus, I have little choice but to advise you to treasure it.

Despite that, if you own Pandemic, I would venture a guess and say that you may not miss it if you gave it away or donated it. There are many other cooperative games that are good gateway games, fine complex games, or even more cutthroat team versus team games. I am tempted to argue that Pandemic is a bit vanilla, but a game that revolves around disease is just a bit too topical nowadays. In any case, there are enough choices out there to find a co-op game that appeals to you thematically.

***

One more thing: due to the ubiquity of Pandemic, you would be hard-pressed to sell it for profit. Most people can purchase it locally at a big-box store, so paying shipping to buy a used copy may not make economic sense. Consider donating it at a thrift store to spread the hobby to others. You may have a friend who is new to the hobby; you could teach Pandemic to that friend and give him the copy. Regard Pandemic as a powerful way to open people up to hobby board gaming, so it would be worthwhile to give it away.

What to Do If... A Game is Just So Adorable?!

Castles of Burgundy is widely considered one of the best strategy games in the board game hobby and designer Stefan Feld's masterpiece. Ranked at 19 on Board Game Geek's website, Castles of Burgundy combines dice, tile placement, and lots of ways to score to form a tight puzzle of a game with just enough player interaction not to feel like you are playing Solitaire on an airplane tray table. If you have not had a chance to play it, get online, find a copy of the game, and spend the requisite $30 to buy it right now... Don't wait - - it's worth your time.

Now, if you have played it before, or if you just received it through Amazon Prime shipping and you are punching out the tiles, you know that this game is as homely as it is well-designed. With sketchy (literally) art, floppy card stock, and enough beige to make a medieval monk blush. Oh, and must I mention that the theme is as pasted-on as your novelty version of Monopoly? For as much craft and care was infused in the rules and tactics, very little emphasis was placed on the art design as if Mr. Feld truly didn't want anything beautiful to distract the players. Castles of Burgundy is as vanilla as it gets (but I believe that was intentional, even by early 2000s game art standards).

Fast forward twenty or so years to 2022. Art standards and production values continue to surge upward. Kickstarter, Gamefound, and other crowdfunding sites are replete with games that feature meticulously molded figures, vivid card art, and high-quality paper with just the right rigidity and thickness. One would be hard-pressed to find any (successful) game on a crowdfunding site that does not boast incredible illustrations and highly detailed miniatures. Likewise, established game producers like Asmodee, Z-Man Games, and Gale Force Nine Games (I'm kind of excluding Queen Games and Alea/Ravensburger here... They sometime err on the side of bland) undeniably pursue artistic excellence when it comes to board games. Conversely, I can only imagine the number of games that may have some ingenious mechanics or brilliant game design that end up falling to the wayside because the designer (possibly Queen Games or Alea/Ravensburger) did not have the business acumen or foresight (which would be mildly ironic for a strategic game designer not to predict marketplace failure) to hire an artist who was not her cousin or dodgy neighbor with a community college arts degree (not to denigrate people with community colleges). To state it simply, in the world of board games, art tends to cover the warts of mediocre game design much more than superior game design obfuscates cheesy drawings.

In any case, that is not the precise point of this article, though the point is still relevant. Actually, I am looking at those board (and card) games that possess an affable quality -- a certain je-ne-sais-quoi --that I can only identify as "cute." If you saw these kinds of games, you'd know what I am talking about. Here's a classic example: Carcassonne. Yeah, that tile-laying game with the "meeples" that, for a time, became ubiquitous as other games appropriated these pieces. There is just something so adorable about putting a meeple on a bucolic field tile as if it is having a rest. If you look closely at the tile, you might spy sheep frolicking in the countryside. Another cute game (in my estimation) is Boss Monster. I relish looking at those 8-bit-rendered heroes and villains; it sends me back to those days when I would play Legend of Zelda on my Nintendo, and then slam my controller down in frustration as Link died due to some suspect maneuver (Okay, calm down, calm down...). A lot of the Tiny Epic games are lovable with their tiny zombies, motorcycles, and weapons. Have you seen the illustrations of Belfort or Harbour (goodbye, Tasty Minstrel Games)? I even find the animeeples of Agricola scrumptious with those sheepish little sheep and the cows that look so at-home in your house (or in your Cooking Hearth).

There are a ton of examples of cuteness in board games, whether it is a small aspect of the game or a greater part of its design (Bunny Kingdom or Stuffed Fables, anyone?). Sadly, though, cuteness has a way of covering up the gangrene underneath... Okay, that's a bit extreme, but it is similar to the point I made earlier: beauty covers up poor game design (perfume on a pig?) much more effectively than great game design covers up blandness. Some games can win you over with something that you could figuratively hug and squeeze with overflowing affection. It is only when you have purchased such a game, unpacked it, and played it to realize that you have been seduced by cuteness. So, what do you do if a game is just so adorable? Here are my tips...

If you haven't bought it, research it.

This is a no-brainer, but sometimes we have to pause, take a beat, and think about the game. There are quite a few games that look great on the store shelf. You may examine the board game box and feel drawn to a bunny or a teddy bear on the cover. Look up the game on Board Game Geek immediately on your smartphone (Does anyone still have dumb phones? If so, I salute you!). Read a few reviews. Then, convince yourself that the cute game is not that great. When all else fails, take a picture of that lovable element on the box, print it, frame it, and hang it in your game room as a trophy signifying your ability to overcome a questionable decision.

If you already bought it, be open to liking it.

I know there are folks out there that would have no compunction about listing cute games on eBay after one play, but I recommend playing the game a few times to determine truly if you do not like it. Just because a game is not "good" does not mean that you would not like it. If you browse Board Game Geek's website enough, you may discover numerous reviews for pretty, yet perfectly mediocre games. Let's face it: if the game is adorable enough, you might find it in your heart to overlook its flaws and embrace the art.

If you bought the game and just loathe it, consider this...

What about keeping the "cute" part of the game and discarding the rest? Maybe you can cannibalize the tokens for another game, cut the pages or cards you like and make a fun scrapbook, or even make up your own rules. I have heard stories of people rewriting the rules for a game or creating a new game with parts from another. Personally, I have been known to take the gorgeously detailed coins out of one game and use them for another.

***

Ultimately, to quote some random Star Wars character, "do not be seduced by the Dark side." A lot of game producers put great effort, time, and market research into crafting games that people would buy. If they are truly smart, they do their best to capture the "casual" gamer; if they can convince the "average" consumer that a cute game is a must-have item, then the game producer has done well and can be gainfully employed. She can spend her earnings at Starbucks or pay next month's rent. And, in a way, you can feel good that you have helped a starving game designer survive one more month.

When it comes down to it, game design and production is a business and people are just trying to feed themselves and/or their families, so the workers in this industry endeavor to sell games, even if they are duds with a pretty coat of paint. Be discerning, take a breath, and allocate times towards researching. I told my sons the same thing about dating: instead of jumping into a relationship, observe, take the time to know the girl, and pray. Of course, if you can ignore the warts and psychoses, maybe a "cute" game is all you need. Just be prepared to deal with a lot of baggage (am I still talking about dating?).

Trash or Treasure? #2: Carcassonne

Of all of the venerated gateway games, Carcassonne has to be the most elegant, yet deeply strategic game of the bunch. Each turn is simple: draw one tile from a bag or blind stack, place an edge of the tile next to a compatible edge on an already placed tile, and decide whether or not you deploy a “follower” on a feature of that tile. The edge (or center) of every tile can be part of a feature such as a city, a road, or open land in service of creating a “farm” or completing the tile spaces around a cloister (or monastery or whatever). When a follower is put on the most recently-placed tile, that follower either scores points when the city, road, or cloister is complete (and is then removed), or the follower remains on the feature until the end of the game. The base game has 72 tiles and each player has seven followers (note: an eighth follower is used for the scoring track). After the last tile is drawn and played, all incomplete features and farms (or open areas bounded by cities and roads) are scored. I won’t discuss the details of scoring, but, basically, highest score wins.

In practice, Carcassonne is fast-paced with only a three-move turn (i.e., draw, place, and put) and seems very tactical, especially at higher player counts; at four or five players, you can keep track of what is drawn, but options change with each new tile, affecting any long-range thinking. However, Carcassonne shines at two players; with only 72 total tiles to play, each player is assured 36 tiles, and as the game progresses one can anticipate which tiles might be drawn or, more crucially, which tiles are no longer available. This leads to creating game states in which it is rendered impossible for the opponent to complete a feature, thus locking up their follower (in a city fragment, for instance) for the rest of game. In turn, this limits the opponent’s scoring opportunties.

When I started out in the board game hobby, after Ticket to Ride, I tried Carcassonne -- not the base game, mind you, but the base game with the Inns & Cathedrals and Traders & Builders expansions, which added goods scoring, different buildings, and more specialized followers. My first game was played during a lunch with three other people. Because I had no familiarity with the tile inventory, the game felt tactical, and yet if I watched enough features, I could build out multiple scoring opportunities by waiting for the right tile. As time passed, I purchased Carcassonne for myself, as well as FOUR expansions I really enjoyed, and would play protracted games of Carcassonne with no less than six players (one expansion provided another set of followers for a sixth player). One particular expansion, The Princess & The Dragon, introduced the Dragon, which was moved by whomever drew a volcano tile, and then by every other player. Whenever the Dragon was placed through another player’s incomplete feature, that player’s follower was removed and given back to the player. This led to chaotic games during which NOBODY could make any long-range plans and had to focus on completing and scoring roads and cities quickly.

By my reckoning, Carcassonne was the first tile-laying game of its kind in which players collectively constructed the board and scored based on how they constructed it. In 2000, Carcassonne must have been a revelation as it won the coveted Spiel des Jahres -- an award given to the game and designer who created the most innovative family game of the year. Since that time, tile-laying games have become much less uncommon; three years later, in 2003, Alhambra would win the Spiel des Jahres with a variation of tile-laying in which players purchased their tiles and built out their own palaces. Games like Alhambra, Kingdomino, Isle of Skye, Patchwork, Calico, Cascadia, The Castles of Mad King Ludwig, and Suburbia employ the tile-laying mechanism with varying degrees of complexity and interwoven game mechanics.

Should I trash or treasure Carcassonne?

At its weight (1.80 out of 5, according to Board Game Geek), Carcassonne snatches the catchphrase of “a minute to learn, (but) a lifetime to master” out of Othello’s figuratively grubby little hands. Very few games take a simple turn structure and turn it into a brutal combination of take-that, one-uppsmanship, and analysis paralysis like this game. At higher play counts and with more expansions, Carcassonne can descend into near-party-game madness; at lower player counts, the game becomes tighter, more strategic, and more cutthroat. It takes several plays to realize this dichotomy between tactical group play and strategic one-on-one maneuvering, but the more Carcassonne is played, the more depth is surprisingly revealed.

As I mentioned earlier, the tile-laying mechanic has had time to percolate and mature, so there is a panoply of choices now available. As of 2022, Cascadia emerged as a hexagonal tile layer in which you build out your own landscape and place one of several animal tokens on any open hex that can accommodate the animal token. With a scoring system that changes with each game, Cascadia has a variability that is not present in Carcassonne’s scoring system. At first blush, it would appear that a game like Cascadia is “doing it better” than Carcassonne...

Yet, in my mind, Carcassonne is STILL the finest tile-layer of its kind at the two-player or three-player count. The tiles are cutely drawn (if I can even insinuate that this game is “cute”), the followers (which we all know now as “meeples”) are iconic pieces in the board gaming world, and heinous crimes against humanity that can be perpetrated on a shared map instills a level of interaction absent in many of the games I mentioned. Carcassonne also transforms into an engaging party game with seven or even eight players (buy more pieces!). Carcassonne is a strategic gem, especially if your opponent knows the inventory of tiles as well as you do.

Though I have considered selling Carcassonne and all of the expansions and mini-expansions I have collected, I always convince myself NOT to trash this masterpiece. I thoroughly enjoy Alhambra and am growing to like Cascadia (and I have the quasi-team-oriented Between Two Castles of Mad King Ludwig), but Carcassonne has a undefinable whimsy to it. Maybe it’s the adorable followers, or maybe it’s that particular shade of green on all of the field tiles. I dunno...

No, I do know! I’m treasuring this one.

Should you trash or treasure Carcassonne?

If you own Carcassonne, I have to be honest and say that it is your judgment call. I do recommend treasuring it, but there are enough casual-level tile-layers out there that you can choose one of the games I mentioned and use THAT as the entry point into gaming for your non-gamer friends. There are also other themes out there; if medieval landscape building is not your thing, why not build a city in Suburbia? Or build a space station with Among the Stars? Thus, trashing Carcassonne is really up to preference.

If you don't own it, buying the base game would not set you back more than, say, $25 US. I strongly suggest sticking with the base set unless you REALLY enjoy it. Not as ubiquitous as Ticket to Ride, Carcassonne can be found in some big-box stores like Target and Barnes & Noble, online through Amazon, and, of course, the local game store. However, places like Walmart do not carry Carcassonne (unless it’s a fluke).

***

Unlike Ticket to Ride, I can argue that games have come along with different themes that may compel you to buy something besides Carcassonne. For me, though, this game will always have a special place in my heart, and is one that is still visually appealing and cute. Nowadays, the art has been revamped; it’s very attractive art, but I still prefer the original art from the game’s Rio Grande Games days.