Can the pursuit of board games contribute to individual personal development? Can engaging with these physical manifestations of human ingenuity facilitate self-improvement in a meaningful capacity? My concise response is yes; however, such a claim warrants further thought. By examining the historical origins of board games, we may arrive at a more profound appreciation for the motivations behind their creation, as well as the reasons they have remained consistently popular, in various iterations, across several millennia.
I feel that this exercise is a desirable undertaking. Board games can be useful low-pressure sandboxes for developing useful skills and mindsets. We are here talking about working on our patience in the face of adversity, mindfulness or being fully present in the moment, as well as learning new skills that might have evaded our attention for too long. Board games can also help us analyse our perceptions, perhaps correcting those false impressions that have led us to develop unsavoury biases over the years. They may also help us better understand the mindsets of others, develop our emotional intelligence while training our empathy within the context of team efforts.
Play is an intrinsic aspect of the human condition. In childhood, we learn through play, engaging with our surroundings in ways that are exploratory, instinctive, and unstructured. Through our senses we begin to investigate the world, and our hands become the earliest instruments through which, by manipulation, we examine different facets of our reality. A simple stick becomes, in our imagination, a makeshift bat with which to strike stones. Smooth pebbles are gathered and sent skimming across the surface of water, merely to observe how far they might travel. We trace patterns upon the ground and select particular stones to perform actions that may reflect physical dexterity or, at times, a budding sense of mental acuity.
The earliest board games were, by necessity, simple constructions, relying on the manipulation of tokens across makeshift boards etched into stone or carved or painted onto wooden surfaces. One of the oldest examples that fits this description is Mancala, together with the many variants that emerged over several centuries. Its premise is straightforward: a series of concave receptacles is arranged along a predetermined path, and players use small tokens, often small pebbles, shells or seeds, which they move from one receptacle to the next with the aim of depositing them in their principal scoring pot.
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| Something like this would have been used to play Mancala type games. |
Mancala is, at heart, a mathematical puzzle. It is easy to teach, requires minimal equipment, and yet possesses enough depth to sustain interest and foster healthy competition. Although it lacks an explicit narrative theme, it nonetheless embodies an implicit one that would have been immediately recognisable to the people who first played it. Mancala is considered a seeding game. The act of gathering tokens from one receptacle and distributing them, one by one, into subsequent pits along a defined route closely mirrors the work of ancient farmers as they sowed seeds into shallow furrows made with simple tools. The connection between careful sowing and a bountiful personal store, the harvest each farmer hoped to reap, would have been both intuitive and resonant.
As humanity progressed, from an agrarian to a more urban society, the complexity of games played seems to have also experienced an upward tick. Archeological records hint at games that brought together elements of play and divination. Historians have long since established a link between the use of dice or their precursors “astragalli” and divination. Those ancient peoples tended to draw a link between variance and the luck of the draw and divine intent. In fact the priesthoods as well as village Shaman were known to resort to randomisation tools, including dice, in order to determine the will of the Gods and assist their patrons with the queries they brought in front of them.
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| The Astragalli or knuckle bone used in divination and play. |
So, indeed those first board games were played on two levels, firstly the more mundane, competitive ludic aspect and then at a more spiritual and divinatory level. I’m here referring to games like the ancient Egyptian game “Senet” which was very popular among the pharaohs and their cohorts. The game itself is nowadays understood to have been a representation of a soul’s journey through the afterlife, faced with all the tests and trials placed in front of them in order to determine whether they were worthy of passing on to the “field of reeds”, the Egyptian equivalent of heaven.
The divinatory aspect at the heart of those earliest games appears to have drawn upon people’s sense of the divine and their belief that human affairs were, to some degree, subject to the will of the gods. This feature seems to have endured throughout the history of board games that depend, in part, upon the vagaries of chance. Even today, though they might not believe in those ancient Gods, some gamblers still maintain elaborate rituals rooted in superstitious beliefs that can be traced back to these ancient divinatory uses of dice and related implements.
However, I do not wish to restrict you to an overly narrow interpretation of board gaming and its origins. In truth, thematic elements and forms of simulation are as integral to board‑gaming culture as its more divinatory beginnings. Many of the societies that developed these early games understood that they could be used to model, albeit in simplified form, real‑world situations. The intention was straightforward, through simulation, a board game could convey the values, expectations, and cultural norms of a particular community.
Games such as Hnefatafl (often referred to as Viking Chess) and Chess reflect a longstanding need to cultivate strategic thinking and long‑term planning. Both encourage patience, foresight, and careful strategising. Hnefatafl, for instance, teaches players to balance defensive and offensive manoeuvres, while Chess increases the complexity of the simulation by assigning distinct movement patterns and roles to individual pieces. Originally an Indian creation called “Chataranga,” chess was first developed as a tool with which one could teach military strategy.
From this exploration of the ancient origins of board games, it becomes clear that such games have long served as instruments of both entertainment and education. This dual purpose remains evident today, reflected in the remarkable expansion of board‑game offerings and the wide variety of themes, mechanisms, and play styles now available.
Modern board games have significantly broadened the range of in‑game systems and the strategic approaches they encourage. We now distinguish between Cooperative and Competitive games, Symmetric and Asymmetric designs, as well as stand‑alone, single‑session experiences and Legacy or campaign‑style games that unfold over multiple sessions.
Let us now turn to these contemporary categories and consider what makes each distinctive, and what they may yet teach to the players who engage with them.
The first pairing to examine is that of Cooperative versus Competitive board gaming. Historically, cooperative games were relatively rare, but this began to change with the emergence of the so‑called German‑style, or Eurogame, tradition. These designs placed greater emphasis on shared problem‑solving, streamlined rules, and strategic depth, paving the way for a broader acceptance of cooperative play within the hobby.
Eurogames tend to focus more on point scoring and while they do invite some measure of competition and strategic decision making, each player will tend to focus more on his or her own point scoring strategy rather than on the elimination of opponents from play. This is in fact the cornerstone of eurogame design, player elimination is removed from the equation.
I think that the step from eurogames to cooperative games is not a large one by any measure and yet it is significant enough in terms of game design as it sets the players against the game itself. The means by which this is achieved are several but perhaps the most famous interpretation of the genre is the pandemic engine created by Matt Leacock.
The Pandemic engine succeeds in creating an analogue opponent thanks to the interaction of a number of mechanisms which the players themselves activate contingent to in-game conditions. For instance, the “viral” contagions are spread at the end of each turn by drawing region cards from a specific deck. Hidden within that deck, you also have “epidemic” cards which accelerate the rate of spread while also subsequently forcing players to revisit already drawn region cards as they are in fact shuffled back into the main draw pile.
Then each player plays different characters within the game, each having unique abilities that can help the team work towards eradicating the contagions thus winning the game. From my experience with the game, it’s the team’s ability to use these character skills optimally that allows the team to achieve victory.
This is where the game Pandemic really shines, it creates a sandbox where players are encouraged to discuss, plan and share ideas. It encourages team play, putting emphasis on joint effort and final game resolution. As with all team-based play, there is always a risk that one or more players will take on the role of alpha players directing play and leaving little by the way of significant decision points for the other players to engage in. Again, this can be countered by involving all players, making them aware that their contributions will be both expected and valued as the game progresses.
Competitive play then can be seen as the counterside, the antithesis of cooperative play. Here players are on their own, there could be player elimination especially with older titles but they could just as well be playing eurogames with end-of-game point scoring. Here the emphasis is more on individual appreciation of the in-game mechanisms. Players need to dig deep into the rules of the game and learn how to use them in order to win. There is also a significant competitive element which could involve some form of strategic “opponent blocking” as part of actual play but this will vary from game to game.
As a general rule, the level of antagonism in modern competitive eurostyle games is kept reasonably low. So games like Castles of Burgundy or Cascadia will seldom have moments where players will feel that they have been ostracised from play due to other player tactics. There are still actions that can be done, still points to be scored even if an element has been blocked or a card / action taken up by another player on a previous turn. So here you have what I like to think of as competition within bounds. The better games in this style of play are those which manage to strike a balance between competitive spirit and personal development in terms of the persons’ understanding of the in-game mechanisms and required strategies.
Obviously you also have the more aggressive, player elimination style competitive games which rev up the antagonism making such games more quintessentially aggressive and confrontational. I am here talking of games like classic Risk, Heat: Pedal to the Metal, Istanbul (though the level of confrontation here is significantly subdued in my opinion) and Clank!. In most cases these are games that take the form of a race to the finish. In Risk you want to dominate and eliminate, in Heat you want to come out first at the finishing line, In Istanbul you want to be the player who gets 5 rubies first and in Clank! you want to dash in and out of a dungeon, grab as much loot as possible and exit before the dragon gets you.
This latter style of competitive play can be a lot of fun to play but it requires a different mindset going into a match. While you have your own goal dictated by the ruleset, you must be fully aware that these are zero-sum games where victory can only be achieved by impeding the progress of others.
I can see how these various styles of play can be applied to our own interactions both socially as well as in our places of work. Cooperation and team play are often advocated as desirable characteristics when it comes to social and work settings. It makes sense, most projects, of whatever nature, will depend on the ability of a number of persons contributing towards a common goal. The success or failure of a project is often attributable to the input of all contributors. So that I guess is easy to comprehend. Yet, when it comes to the bottom line, the attracting of new business, the implementation of an innovative perhaps disruptive idea, zero-sum aggressive competition can spell the difference between long term success or failure. One mindset does not by definition preclude the use of the other but it does remind us that the real skill is knowing when to switch gears in order to arrive at a synergistic action.
The next pairing I mentioned earlier is of a somewhat different nature in that it addresses asymmetric play. When we say asymmetric play we mean the situation whereby the starting positions and objectives of players engaged in a game of this type are noticeably different. Asymmetric games are not a modern creation, on the contrary, one of the most notable asymmetric games predates Chess and was incredibly popular and widespread in its days. The Game itself is Hnefltafl or “Viking Chess” as it is also called. Calling it “Chess” however can be misleading.
In Hnefltafl players take on two very distinct roles. In this two-player game, one contestant will play the King and his royal guard whereas the other will take on the role of the invaders. The player who takes on the King has the objective of helping the king flee by reaching one of the four corners. On the other hand, the invaders want to block the King, stopping him from making his escape.
This game is intriguing, as it was spawned from the mind of people that knew conflict and understood the importance and significance of this simulation. Yet, simulation aside, Hnefltafl is a very solid asymmetric game that requires a finite set of pieces and a simple board on which to play. This aspect of the game must have been a contributing factor towards its dissemination throughout the western pre-chess world.
Asymmetric games can be harder to master since they require different mindsets for each of the factions in play. In Hnefltafl, good players would have been expected to master both the defensive capabilities of the King’s faction as well as the offensive manoeuvres required when playing as the invaders. Only when both strategies were mastered could a player be considered as holistically competent. The same can be said of many modern games that also employ some measure of asymmetry.
I can think of two games that use asymmetric starting positions and very different styles of play. The first is Root. In Root, players choose one of four factions, each made up of quirky woodland animals with their own abilities and victory conditions.
There are the Cats, who try to win by spreading their control across the forest. The Birds aim to build a set number of roosts. The Woodland Alliance is a loose group of small creatures who hope to win by building enough sympathy among the forest’s inhabitants. Finally, there is the Raccoon, a lone wanderer who acts as a mercenary, helping different factions at different times while quietly pursuing their own path to victory
Understandably, a mastery of this game would require a player to understand four distinct styles of play even though one could decide to stick with one or two factions for convenience sake.
Another good example of a game that uses asymmetry in its design is Spirit Island. It is a cooperative game, but each player controls a different Spirit, and every Spirit has its own distinct powers and its own way of dealing with the invading colonisers. The aim is shared, which is to drive the colonisers off the island, yet each Spirit approaches this goal in a different manner.
Some Spirits are quite direct, such as Lightning’s Swift Strike, which focuses on fast and forceful attacks, or River Surges in Sunlight, which is skilled at moving pieces around the board. Others are more unusual, like Oceans Hungry Grasp, which pulls invaders into the sea, or Bringer of Dreams and Nightmares, which spreads fear rather than causing real harm.
Players can choose to explore how each Spirit works, learning their strengths and weaknesses, or simply stay with one or two Spirits that suit their own style of play.
Yet what does asymmetric proffer to teach the interested player? Well for one, life is seldom symmetrical when it comes to decision making. We may all be faced with similar problems but the manner in which we approach those decision points is normally very much contingent on our individual experiential package which is seldom the same for any two given persons. So life is laden with asymmetry when it comes to these things. Indeed there may be some overlap in the way a problem is tackled by one or more individuals but when it comes to life choices, we seldom witness two individuals going through the same identical process.
In a way, this is desirable, especially in those areas of work where innovation in all its aspects is valued and encouraged. Innovation thrives on diverse view points, on different individuals tackling a problem from different angles. In a way innovation can be seen as a distillation of diversity into something new. For this reason, if not anything else, learning how to handle games that offer different starting points towards achieving specific goals can be seen as both desirable and beneficial towards developing an innovation mindset.
The final pairing I proposed involves a comparison between Legacy games with a campaign structure and standard, single session games. Legacy games are a very peculiar type of board game. Here you have a game that changes “permanently” contingent to decisions taken in-game. In many instances games labelled legacy will be modified irreversibly once played.
Although I do not find such games especially appealing, I can see a parallel between the ideas they present and life itself. Many of the decisions we face in life cannot be reversed, and we often make them with incomplete information. We do our best to gather what pertinent information we can, but there will always be gaps and uncertainties. Some choices simply cannot be made with full clarity, because their truth becomes evident only through the outcomes that follow.
So this is the learning opportunity derived from playing such legacy games, the appreciation of cause and effect, action and consequence. This is also the reason why many gamers find such games unappealing. At times we play games to escape the intransigent irreversibility of life. We lose a game, so what, reset and play another. Legacy games do not fully allow this, they stand as stark reminders of the truth of day-to-day existence which may not appeal to everyone.
I linked Legacy games with campaign-style play quite deliberately, and the reason should now be evident. Campaigns heighten the sense of cause and effect, of action and consequence. In a campaign that unfolds over several sessions, the permanence of earlier decisions can return to trouble the players. Cooperative mechanisms can, I think, ease the psychological weight on individuals, but in the end the group still shares the burden of whatever setbacks arise.
Single session games, by contrast, tend to resemble what many consider the classic structure of a board game. You set the game up, you play through its entire scope, you tally the score, and you either win or lose. It ends there. There is a certain comfort in that simplicity, with no further obligations beyond the possibility of a rematch if time allows.
In essence therefore, board games can be silent mentors facilitating the inquisitive mind towards new ways to handle emergent situations in life. This is the theme I would like to keep on exploring in 2026. The plan is to try and identify games that hold this educational potential and to seek practical applications of whatever it might overtly or covertly set out to explore. While I do not wish to suck out the fun from board gaming (I do love playing the occasional no-brainer party game after all) my plan is to seek out and explore aspects of this hobby that can actually enrich our journeys through life.
Even though it has only just started, the news in 2026 already feels like a constant stream of "doom and gloom," the gaming table can offer us a much-needed bit of respite and a chance to embrace the spirit of Ichigo Ichie. This exquisite Japanese concept is a reminder that every single gathering is a "once-in-a-lifetime" moment that can never be repeated in quite the same way. When we sit down to play a board game, we should not see it as hiding from the dreariness of the world, but rather that we are choosing to value the here and now. By focusing on the enjoyment of a shared game, we can appreciate our existence more deeply, realising that what truly matters is the time we spend together in the present.
Happy Gaming! Until next time.
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