I’ve been glued to screens since 1984. Proper gaming screens, mind you – started with the Spectrum, moved through the C64, then my beloved Amiga 500. Board games were something that happened at Christmas when the relatives visited, usually involving Monopoly arguments that ended with someone storming off to make tea. The idea that bits of cardboard could compete with the worlds I was exploring on my computer seemed absolutely mental.
Until my mate Dave brought round Everdell.
Dave’s been my gaming partner since we met at university – we’ve conquered MMOs together, argued about whether the Mega Drive or SNES was better (it’s complicated), and spent countless nights on co-op campaigns. But he’d been banging on about modern board games for months, which I politely ignored while planning which retro game I’d fire up on my A1200 when he left. Then one evening, instead of his usual bag of controllers and cables, he rocks up with this massive box.
“Just give it a go,” he says, unpacking what looked like a miniature woodland scene onto my dining table. “If you hate it, we’ll boot up Streets of Rage 2.”
We never touched the Mega Drive that night. Or the next week, come to think of it.
Christ, the first thing that hits you about Everdell is how it looks. Board games in my memory were flat affairs with maybe some cheap plastic houses if you were lucky. This thing erupts from the table like a proper diorama – there’s a massive resin tree towering over everything, little wooden berries that actually look like berries, amber tokens that catch the light just right. The cards show these anthropomorphic woodland creatures with art so detailed it puts most Amiga box art to shame. I found myself just picking up cards to admire the scholarly hedgehogs and industrious squirrels, which should’ve been my first warning sign.
“This is just marketing bollocks,” I told Dave while sorting through my starting resources. “Pretty components hiding rubbish gameplay.”
Three hours later I’m plotting card combinations like I’m min-maxing a Speedball 2 team.
Right, for those who haven’t fallen down this rabbit hole yet – Everdell is what they call a worker placement game mixed with tableau building. You’re running a civilization of woodland creatures through the seasons, starting with just a couple of worker meeples (adorable little wooden animals) and bugger all resources. You place workers to gather stuff, draw cards, take actions. The cards are either critters (your citizens) or constructions (their buildings).
The genius bit is how everything connects. Play a Teacher and suddenly your other critters generate extra resources. Build a Farm and feeding everyone becomes easier. It’s like building a proper gaming rig – each component makes the others work better, creating these efficiency engines that get more powerful as you add to them.
As someone who’s spent decades optimizing Sensible Soccer tactics and Civilization tech trees, something just clicked. This wasn’t different from building a base in Command & Conquer or managing resources in Populous – just translated to physical space. But there was something uniquely satisfying about actually placing those little wooden workers and watching my town grow card by card across the table.
The seasonal cycle gives perfect pacing too. Winter starts you off with sod all options, then spring and summer expand your possibilities before autumn’s final push. Creates a natural story arc for each session, and the physical act of moving your squirrel worker around beats clicking pixels in ways I didn’t expect.
I’ll admit, the theme initially put me off. Cute woodland creatures building fairy tale towns? Seemed a far cry from the gritty sci-fi and post-apocalyptic worlds I usually inhabit. But that adorable exterior hides proper strategic depth. Some of the most vicious gaming moments I’ve experienced happened under that resin tree, racing friends for limited spaces and resources.
My brother-in-law Mark joined us a few weeks later – another digital native who thought board games peaked with Cluedo. “Are those hamsters wearing bloody hats? What is this, Beatrix Potter?” By evening’s end he’s arguing passionately about the superiority of the raven banker over the shopkeeper fox and demanding a rematch. Another convert.
The worker placement mechanics are brutal in their simplicity – you’ve got limited workers (starting with just two!) and must choose where to place them. Some spots gather basic resources like resin, pebbles, berries. Others let you draw cards or gain special benefits. The brilliance is the scarcity – once someone’s claimed a spot, tough luck mate. Creates this delicious tension watching your opponents’ hands hover over the exact action you desperately need.
What really surprised me was how Everdell created that same “just one more turn” compulsion that keeps me playing Elite until dawn. Every decision opens new possibilities. Play a Mine for more pebbles, which funds the Clock Tower, which pairs with the Historian for bonus points… The critter combinations create strategic depth that unfolds gradually, making each game a unique puzzle to solve.
The component quality is frankly ridiculous compared to board games from my childhood. That tree isn’t just for show – it holds the deck and upcoming cards in its branches. Resources aren’t generic colored cubes but shaped like actual things, made from materials that feel good to handle. Even the box insert is thoughtfully designed for the weird-shaped bits. Production value rivals those expensive limited edition game releases, which helped ease my transition from digital to analog.
My strategy’s evolved over dozens of plays now. Initially I approached it like an RTS – rushing to expand my worker pool quickly. Sometimes works, but I’ve found subtler approaches focusing on card synergies often prove more effective. Developed a fondness for what Mark calls my “university town” strategy – focusing on Sage, Teacher, and School combinations that snowball knowledge into victory points.
My wife Susan, who’s tolerated my gaming obsession with patient resignation for twenty-odd years, noticed our new routine and asked to join. She’d never shown interest in my retro gaming beyond occasionally asking if I could turn the Amiga music down, but something about these woodland creatures intrigued her. Now she’s arguably better than any of us, with this uncanny ability to pivot strategy based on available cards. Her joining gave us a new way to connect, which alone justifies the hobby.
Speaking of justification – the price initially made me wince. Premium board games aren’t cheap, and when Dave told me what Everdell cost I nearly choked. “I could get three games off GOG for that!” But the cost per play quickly beat most titles in my Steam library. We’ve played it dozens of times with no DLC fees or subscription costs.
Inevitably, about three months into our obsession, I bought the first expansion – Pearlbrook. Adds aquatic creatures, pearl resources, and ambassador workers. Like proper game expansions, it enhances the core without overcomplicating things. River folks and their pearl economy open new strategies without invalidating old ones. I’ve since collected Spirecrest and Bellfaire too, each adding different dimensions.
Comparing Everdell to digital strategy games highlights both similarities and key differences. Both feature resource management, strategic planning, optimization puzzles. But board games add immediate social interaction – you’re looking opponents in the eye as you claim the meadow space they needed. There’s something irreplaceable about physical interaction too – the satisfying clack of wooden meeples, card shuffles, tangible town growth.
The solo variant surprised me as well. As someone who plays loads of single-player games, I was skeptical about board game solo modes. Everdell’s Rugwort variant (automated opponent) provides solid challenge while maintaining what makes multiplayer special. I’ve spent many weeknight evenings with just the game, a pint, and some music – never thought I’d say that about cardboard.
My game shelf’s transformed this past year. Video game boxes still dominate, but they’re sharing space with board game boxes now. Everdell sits prominently at the center – the gateway that changed my perspective on an entire medium. Dave looks insufferably smug whenever he visits, seeing what he’s unleashed.
What I’ve come to appreciate most is how Everdell creates different immersion than digital games. Video games envelope you with visuals and sound, creating worlds you observe and interact with. Everdell’s physical presence creates different magic – a world you and your mates collectively bring to life through imagination and social interaction. The forest valley exists as much in our banter and shared stories as in the physical components.
I won’t be abandoning video games anytime soon – they remain my first love and primary medium. But Everdell opened doors to experiences I’d been missing. The direct social connection, tactile satisfaction, shared story creation around a table. Now when friends visit they often ask “retro games or board games tonight?” The fact it’s even a question would’ve shocked my former self.
If you’re a lifelong digital gamer curious about the cardboard side, Everdell might be your gateway too. Just be warned – that adorable resin tree is more dangerous than it looks. One session could transform your gaming life, and possibly your living room storage situation, forever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
John grew up swapping floppy disks and reading Amiga Power cover to cover. Now an IT manager in Manchester, he writes about the glory days of British computer gaming—Sensible Soccer, Speedball 2, and why the Amiga deserved more love than it ever got.
