The 40 Most Popular Board Games, According to Ranker – Part Five
Number 20 – Agricola
1363 Positive Votes
855 Negative Votes
“Jonas! What are you doing sitting around? I thought you were going to pick up some grain at the store?”
“Farmer Silas beat me to it. Took all the grain in the store. Suppose we need to wait until next week before I can get seed to sew.”
“Well, I hear the fish are really jumping in the pond, lately…”
“Nothing doing, Martha. Farmer Johnson is at the pond, fishing to his heart’s content. Just seems rude for me to join him.”
“That’s alright I suppose. We always wanted to fix up the house…”
“Can’t do that neither. Farmer Gregory’s tearing down his wooden house and replacing it with a mud hut, while Farmer Harper is making minor improvements. So you see, I can’t do that either! Think of the social embarrassment this entire community would suffer through if I chose to build a bookshelf while Harper worked on his feeding trough. Why I’d rather we both starved and were forced to beg for our food rather than duplicate someone else’s work. That just wouldn’t be right.”
“Well, I suppose we could always go back to bed and start working on Jonas Jr….”
“Nope. The Andersons got the jump on us. That’s alright. It turns out no one’s been to the sheep repository in a while. The pens are brimming with the bleaters. Figure I can go and lead a flock back tonight. I’d gladly trade the sheep for wood, but I fear that’s a whole other game.”
In the world of Agricola, you’re a land-locked peasant whose ultimate goal is to finish with the most stuff. To do that, you need to make little versions of yourself, reproducing multiple times. Because, as humans, we’re not content to simply have more than we need. As soon as our basic needs are satisfied, we pop out another human and struggle to find a way to provide for that little ecological disaster, too. Ultimately, Agricola is a game about humanity’s hubris when it comes to exploiting his world’s limited resources because he/she is single-mindedly driven by a need to outperform one’s peers. After all, the person who dies with the most points wins. Or it’s a fun game about farming. Maybe it’s just a game about farming.
~
The Bleecker Street Designer Backgammon set from Rakuten
Number 19 – Backgammon
1388 Positive Votes
1328 Negative Votes
Often Listed
Backgammon belongs to a tight class of games called ‘the Tables‘. This group, which includes the Mesopotamian Royal Game of Ur, and the Egyptian game of Senet, represents some of the oldest board games in the world. In fact, the genre itself is named after Tabula, a popular Roman game played on a ‘table’ or ‘tablet’, with many similarities to Backgammon. The only major differences are that, in tabula, players roll three dice instead of two, and all their checkers start off the board in their opponent’s home.
Oh, and one more thing. Backgammon didn’t originally include the doubling cube.
The doubling cube is an odd piece of gaming paraphernalia. It’s a die you don’t roll, nor does it effect the game. At the beginning of a player’s turn, they may place the doubling cube near the table with the number 2 facing up. If they do, that player is offering to increase the current game’s value within the match to be worth two victories. The opponent may agree to the terms, or forfeit the current game. If that opponent is feeling lucky, though, they can flip the die to the number 4, causing the game to be worth four victories, and passing the ability to concede back to their opponent, who may then flip the die to 8, etc., etc..
We can thank the fast paced jazz generation of high-risk Wall Street investors for the doubling cube. Technically speaking, the cube has no effect on the rules, which changed little since the Persian sage, Borzūya, committed them to parchment in the 6th century. Instead, the doubling cube changes how we think about the game. It gives games greater immediacy, which allows for memorable high-stakes games. The change also stresses player records, which in turn fosters a greater sense of community. The focus of backgammon shifted away from singular games of chance to a taut meta-game of strategy in which continued good play was rewarded in overall ratings. This allowed for two excellent players to recognize each other’s talent and seek each other out, sometimes becoming lifelong rivals. And the society which grew around this tournament culture led to federations of clubs of backgammon players.
Leila Hattersley (back right), author of “How to Play the New Backgammon“, teaching the game to new players at a New York country club.
Without the cube, the spike of backgammon players in 1920s New York City would have amounted to a passing fad. There would be no resurgence of backgammon in 1960s country clubs due to Prince Alexis Obolensky’s new tournament rules. It’s why the Backgammon World Championship continues to be a staple event in Monte Carlo with side events spilling into multiple hotels and casinos since 1978. The doubling cube is a lesson that many designers and publishers should take to heart. Good games are good. But in order for a game to be great, it must include something that allows to become a phenomenon. The best games are bigger than the box in which they’re packaged.
~
Number 18 – The Game of Life
1502 Positive Votes
1710 Negative Votes
Often listed and High on Re-Ranks
I can trash talk the Game of Life all day. Few things frustrate serious gamers more than operating with little to no meaningful choices. I play games because I like to think. But in America and Soviet Russia, Game of Life plays you.
I’m not going to be that guy, though. Because as much as the core mechanic of Life pains me, it is surrounded by fantastic elements which are the hallmark of a great game. And the easiest way to appreciate the Life we have now is to look at how Life first started:
The Checkered game of Life was Mr. Milton Bradley‘s first game design. To move around the board, players spun a six-sided top, or teetotum (mostly because dice were associated with gambling. Why no one thought to gamble using teetotums is beyond me.) They then consulted a chart on their ‘scoring card’ to determine which directions they were able to move and if they could travel one or two spaces.
It’s interesting to note that Bradly’s version gives players the ability to make meaningful choices. Admittedly, I’m guessing there’s almost always a ‘best choice’. But at least in this version, there’s a chance to make risky maneuvers that might pay off. Or as Bradley puts it in the rules to his game:
“The player oftentimes has choice of a number of moves which he can make to more or less apparent advantage, and at other times, circumstances compel him to pursue a course greatly to his disadvantage; but any such necessity can generally be traced to some false move made in the former part of the game, the effects of which could not be foreseen.”
It’s an odd game; one in which morals and metaphor are more important than mechanics. The first player to get 100 points through positive living is declared the winner. With a series of poor rolls, you could play forever. That is, assuming you don’t land on the suicide square.
Milton was hardcore on the subject of player elimination.
The game was a hit, and kept Milton solvent. A good thing too, since his other major product, a shorn picture of Abraham Lincoln, tanked after Lincoln grew his illustrious beard.
If only he became a gangster, Bradley could’ve made millions on his Baby-Faced Lincoln mugshot.
It wasn’t until 1960, on its 100th birthday, that a re-release was given on Life. But instead of slapping a sheet of contact paper on the old checker board, Reuben Klamer transformed Life from a stressful gridlock full of potential missteps, to a winding highway leading through mountains, urban centers and forests. The teetotum was replaced with a clackity spinner. As an indicator of the times we live in, players didn’t accumulate ethical victories. They were rewarded with hard cash from the bank. Instead of generic chips to “represent your man,” players thundered downroad in mini convertibles. And each convertible were loaded up with an array of pink and baby blue pegs to represent the players, their mates and the children they abducted from the side of the road. Unlike Bradley’s version, players didn’t experience ‘disgrace’ or ‘ruin’. They were buffeted by a tornado, or inherited a skunk farm from their crazy uncle.
Image blatantly stolen from The Museum of Play.
Further editions of the game increased the liveliness of the board, accounted for inflation, reintroduced minor decision making, added some “come back from behind” mechanics, and scaled the dial back in favor of moralizing once again, rewarding players for good deeds such as recycling or learning CPR.
What the game never lost, though, was the feeling that you were playing out some poor schmuck’s life, for better or worse. Like I said before, I’m not fond of Life as a game. But as a artistic piece of social commentary, it’s spectacular. Like the daily grind of real life, you need to entertain yourself. And who you play with will make all the difference.
But do yourself a favor. Buy your copy from a thrift store, play it once, then put it back in the box and return it the next day. Life can be fun, but you shouldn’t dwell on it.
~
Number 17: Puerto Rico
1802 Positive Votes
1096 Negative Votes
Considering the box art, it’s amazing anyone played Puerto Rico at all. If I followed Ravensburger brand division’s logic, I’d conclude that Puerto Rico is an early 90s educational computer game about masts and rigging. Thankfully, there’s enough weirdos that get their kicks thinking about sheepshanks and granny knots long enough to stumble their way through a ground breaking game, and they were polite enough to alert the rest of us.
In Puerto Rico, the players are time lords who are bequeathed alternate reality versions of the bountiful island namesake, growing corn, sugar, indigo, coffee, tobacco, and quarrying for stone, all while suppressing bloody slave revolts investing in custom houses and town halls to better govern the citizens. Players do this by dehumanizing the workforce choosing a role for their turn which gives them a major benefit, while awarding special privileges to both the intermediary and ruling classes granting all players a secondary benefit. It’s a novel mechanic, which keeps the middle class struggling among themselves for favors while trampling their oppressed brothers and sisters beneath them all players invested in the game, even when it isn’t their turn.
Puerto Rico is a darling of the serious board game community, not only claiming eight ‘Game of the Year’ awards for 2002, but also spending more time ranked number one at Board Game Geek than any other game. Playing a sample game by yourself is enough to feel how deep the gameplay is. It becomes even more complex when other players dictate which actions each player takes on their turn. If Puerto Rico is flawed in any way, its by featuring so rich and diverse an engine that the barrier to entry becomes too high for many new players; it’s almost impossible to win your first few games against experienced players, who in turn find it frustrating to disentangle their personal strategies while explaining the rules. That and some naysayers complain that there’s no interaction between players. Which isn’t quite right. The players interact all the time. But they do so passively by choosing roles they believe to be good for them and bad for their opponents. No one is selecting an army, loading it in their physics-warping, time travelling phone booth, and unleashing it on an unsuspecting alternate reality Puerto Rico.
I know it sounds like I’m waffling by admitting the game is excellent, but problematic. But it’s true: people new to the board game hobby shouldn’t start with Puerto Rico. I’m sure there are many who would disagree with me, including a cadre who were introduced to the hobby vía el Puerto de San Juan. But I wouldn’t encourage those interested in the American New Wave genre of movies to begin by watching Apocalypse Now, either. Not when classics like Bonnie and Clyde, MASH, or Network do at least as good a job highlighting the strengths of the genre, while remaining approachable to a mass audience. Critical consensus be damned. If you’re interested in more serious board games, Settlers of Cataan, Small World, and Power Grid make for an excellent foray. And if you get done one of those and want something you can really sink your brain into, then pick up Puerto Rico. Take your time. The voyage can be as interesting as the island itself.
~
Number 16 – Sorry!
1758 Positive Votes
1655 Negative Votes
Often listed and High on Re-Ranks
So far I went to bat for Candy Land, Trouble, and The Game of Life, but this is where I draw the line. Sorry! is a bad game. This leaky pontoon is barely kept afloat by a couple loosely tied barrels of nostalgia. Each turn, players flip a card to determine how many squares they travel around a generic square maze in order to get ‘home’. Occasionally, a player may land on an opponent’s pawn and send it back to start; a moment which elicits a modicum of excitement, which is immediately undone when everyone realizes this ennui-fueled social construct trap we call a game will take that much longer to resolve. Further, your pieces can’t leave start until you draw either a one or a two. With only nine of those cards in the deck of forty-five, players witness an 80% chance of skipping their turn, each turn, at the beginning of the game. Some players give up the will to continue before moving a single pawn. Personally speaking, I would rather host the 2015 Miss Universe pageant, accidentally announce the wrong winner, and be forced to admit my error and dethrone a flabbergasted Miss Columbia, than play a game of Sorry!
And I will choke the man, woman, or child who plays this card on me the turn after I finally crawl out of Start. You know how in fairy tales someone inevitably utters that “Magic always comes with a price,” but the hero assumed that whatever the price is, it would be worth it, but then the cost is revealed and it is never, ever worth it. I just know that if I ever exploit magic to, let’s say, save the love of my life from certain doom, the price will be her insistence on playing this terrible game every night for the rest of my life.
This abomination is kept culturally relevant by otherwise well-meaning former grade-schoolers who responded well to formulism during rainy recesses. Sorry!’s greatest strength is predictability. Its target audiences are those who are too immature to follow all but the simplest of rules. It appeals to griefers whose desire to win overshadows their desire to build. It is a game for children, and its recognizability in the public sphere is what keeps otherwise intelligent and creative people from experimenting with board games as adults.
So you can imagine my mortification when I discovered the 1992 rules for the game included a variation which made the game more strategical and entertaining.
The “Variation for Adults” which you can find here, are as follows:
All regular rules apply, except:
Put only three of your pawns in the Start space. Put the fourth pawn on the circle outside your start.
Shuffle the deck and deal five cards face down to each player…
On your turn, select one card in your hand and move according to its instructions. Discard it and bring your hand up to five cards…
So in summary, players don’t skip multiple turns at the beginning of the game due to a bad draw, are given five or more choices of how to move on their turn, and may plan ahead while responding to the choices their opponents may make. Suddenly, my pure malevolent hatred for this game is called into question. In a world full of gray areas, I was content to know that Sorry! was a true evil. Since I never took a critical eye to solving such a terrible game, I missed the obvious choice that could make the game [grumble] fun. Sorry! uses cards, a choice that never made sense over using dice (except, perhaps, to shave a few pennies off the cost to manufacture the game.) But you can store cards in your hand making the gaaaaaaaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!!!
No, no, no, no. I am not giving people an excuse to buy a copy of Sorry!! I would petition to send all copies sent to ISIS headquarters, but I’m afraid that would make the terrorist state even more extremist. If you own a copy, burn it before you transform into a gibbering mouther. If you’re at a friend’s house and they suggest playing the ‘game’, do the honorable thing. Find the nearest hammer and whack yourself on the head until you’re rushed to the emergency room, or your IQ descends to a level where playing the game is fun again. If you should come across Sorry! on your own, contact the proper authorities. Whatever you do, do not confront the game. It should be considered inane and intellectually dangerous.
