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Space conquest games are ten a penny, including some of the best war board games around, like Twilight Imperium and Eclipse. But for all their glory, they tend to follow a formula known as 4X: explore, expand, exploit and exterminate. That means capturing resources, climbing up a tech tree and fighting your neighbors, with all the potential for turtling and table talk that that involves. Arcs, by innovative designer Cole Wehrle, looks very much like its genre peers, but it promises to be something different: a sci-fi subjugation game that puts strategy front and center, while weaving the inbuilt instability of growing empires into the mix.
For a genre that traditionally comes with a ton of plastic and cardboard, Arcs arrives in a disarmingly small box that’s packed to the brim with goodies. It features wooden pieces rather than plastic, but its single spaceship design cutouts and agent pieces still look great on your table. Your other units, cities and spaceports, are represented by cardboard triangles. It’s all functional, and thematically austere, and you won’t miss the plastic at all.
One reason why such relatively plain components look so good is the instantly-recognizable art style of Kyle Ferrin which adorns the pieces, cards and board. It initially appears sketchy and amateurish until you see how much detail, character and consistency goes into his portrayals. Better known for his fantasy work on other titles from Leder Games such as Root and Oath, his transition to sci-fi is seamless and elevates the game’s appearance to the next level. The card art in particular, split across several decks, is a delight.
Genre veterans may be slightly surprised by the board, which is compact and features various administrative tracks alongside a circular map outlined in more Ferrin art. But like everything else in the box, it does exactly what it needs to do while looking surprisingly stylish, with neon tones standing out against a classic black space background. Some resource tokens, player mats and a hefty selection of custom combat dice round out the contents.
You might be surprised to find that a mutated derivative of classic playing card trick-taking, where one player leads a card suit and others have to follow, is at the heart of a 4x game. But that’s what we’ve got here, representing the player’s inability to perfectly control their forces. It’s a typical left-field move from Wehrle, whose creativity can make his games feel hard to grasp. Arcs is no exception, but the good news is that it’s both simpler and more familiar than most of his oeuvre, and you should have everything down quite comfortably by the end of your first session.
Leading is a significant advantage because it allows you to control the tempo of the entire turn. The suit of the card you play determines what actions you can take, such as building, moving or attacking other players, and the number of pips tells you how many of those actions you’re allowed. If you’re going first, you can also declare the ambition printed on the card, which is essentially deciding which facet of the game is going to be worth points on this round, such as having most of a particular resource, or destroying the most enemy pieces in battle, although doing so sets the numeric value of the card to zero.
Players following the leader have difficult decisions to make. If they can match the suit and play a higher value card – easy if the leader went with the ambition – then they can also take the named actions up the number of pips, plus they get to lead next round. Otherwise, their card only gets them a single action, either of the lead type or the type they played, with an option to discard another card to gain that precious lead slot.
Immediately, this snares everyone is a series of strategic traps. Leading is powerful, but if you declare an ambition, you’ll likely lose the initiative, yet if you don’t someone else may later pick a scoring opportunity that’s unfavorable to you. If you’re following, and you can’t beat the lead card, you need to consider whether the high, high price of discarding a card, leaving you out of later rounds completely, is worth it to grab the initiative. And that’s before we even get to what you’re actually going to do with your cards and actions.
Initially, this can feel suffocating, robbing you of choice and demanding pounds of flesh to get the initiative. But with experience you’ll learn there’s nuance here, a surprising amount of strategy around card-counting and timing. And much of the rest of Arcs is dedicated to ensuring you’ve got options, even in the most barren hands of cards imaginable, although there is, as always, a cost for exercising that flexibility.
One method is to sacrifice resources to gain actions. Giving up a fuel allows you to move, for example, or a material to build or repair. Doing so, however, puts you at a disadvantage for ambitions based on that resource, and you’ll need some of that resource in the first place. You gain resources via the tax action on cities, and the planet they’re on determines which resource you get. You start with two cities, so to gain access to new resource types you need to move a fleet there, either battle to take control or build to found a new city, then tax to get your token. It’s no small undertaking, with a whole series of strategic trade-offs to get there.
The other ameliorating factor are guild cards. There are always a selection of four available, and they provide various new powers and resources. Mining Interest will get you a material resource, for example, while Lattice Spies can be discarded to seize the initiative. Getting a card requires two actions: influence, which lets you place agent pieces on an unclaimed card, and secure, which allows you to take a card on which you have a majority of agents. As always, there’s a sting: if another player claims a card on which you have agents, they capture them. This not only deprives you of their use, but the tally of captured agents is another point-scoring opportunity.
Hopefully you can begin to sell the wheels within wheels within wheels of planning a turn in Arcs. Everything is deviously and brilliantly reliant on everything else. Nothing can be achieved without risk or sacrifice. The game hands you all the tools you need to manage this fraught state of affairs but tells you nothing about how to use them: some of the aspects don’t even look like tools at first, just infuriating bits of chaos or mechanical straitjackets that exist only to annoy until you encounter the circumstance in which you can leverage them, and comprehension dawns like an alien sun rising over an extraterrestrial world. But even as you gain experience, trying to make everything join up, to push all the buttons to your advantage, is a fascinating, difficult, multi-faceted challenge that doesn’t get old.
And I haven’t even got to the fact that all the other players will be trying their best to sabotage your plans. Nothing stops players negotiating or making deals so, atop that solid mechanical core, this is a red-blooded game of dynamic aggression, where both dynamic and aggression are the operative words. The movement system and circular board makes it very hard to defend yourself, or to turtle in corners. You might get one speedbump to slow an enemy fleet en route to your major systems, but that’s it. This ensures every turn when battle actions are available ramp up the tension, as everyone tries to be first to take the fight to the enemy.
When fights do erupt, they’re governed by a fascinating, novel dice mechanic. For each ship they have, the attack can choose a type of dice to roll. Skirmish dice have a 50-50 chance of inflicting minor damage. Assault dice are far more punishing, but they carry a risk of damaging your own ships. Raid dice are the most dangerous for the attacker, but they allow you to steal resources from your opponent. The risk versus reward ratio is very much on you, but pieces can take two hits each and the attacker gets to allocate all damage. So Arcs rewards aggression, since the attacking player can eliminate enemy pieces while distributing damage among their own.
What’s in the Box
For a genre that traditionally comes with a ton of plastic and cardboard, Arcs arrives in a disarmingly small box that’s packed to the brim with goodies. It features wooden pieces rather than plastic, but its single spaceship design cutouts and agent pieces still look great on your table. Your other units, cities and spaceports, are represented by cardboard triangles. It’s all functional, and thematically austere, and you won’t miss the plastic at all.
One reason why such relatively plain components look so good is the instantly-recognizable art style of Kyle Ferrin which adorns the pieces, cards and board. It initially appears sketchy and amateurish until you see how much detail, character and consistency goes into his portrayals. Better known for his fantasy work on other titles from Leder Games such as Root and Oath, his transition to sci-fi is seamless and elevates the game’s appearance to the next level. The card art in particular, split across several decks, is a delight.
Genre veterans may be slightly surprised by the board, which is compact and features various administrative tracks alongside a circular map outlined in more Ferrin art. But like everything else in the box, it does exactly what it needs to do while looking surprisingly stylish, with neon tones standing out against a classic black space background. Some resource tokens, player mats and a hefty selection of custom combat dice round out the contents.
Rules and How it Plays
You might be surprised to find that a mutated derivative of classic playing card trick-taking, where one player leads a card suit and others have to follow, is at the heart of a 4x game. But that’s what we’ve got here, representing the player’s inability to perfectly control their forces. It’s a typical left-field move from Wehrle, whose creativity can make his games feel hard to grasp. Arcs is no exception, but the good news is that it’s both simpler and more familiar than most of his oeuvre, and you should have everything down quite comfortably by the end of your first session.
Leading is a significant advantage because it allows you to control the tempo of the entire turn. The suit of the card you play determines what actions you can take, such as building, moving or attacking other players, and the number of pips tells you how many of those actions you’re allowed. If you’re going first, you can also declare the ambition printed on the card, which is essentially deciding which facet of the game is going to be worth points on this round, such as having most of a particular resource, or destroying the most enemy pieces in battle, although doing so sets the numeric value of the card to zero.
Players following the leader have difficult decisions to make. If they can match the suit and play a higher value card – easy if the leader went with the ambition – then they can also take the named actions up the number of pips, plus they get to lead next round. Otherwise, their card only gets them a single action, either of the lead type or the type they played, with an option to discard another card to gain that precious lead slot.
Immediately, this snares everyone is a series of strategic traps. Leading is powerful, but if you declare an ambition, you’ll likely lose the initiative, yet if you don’t someone else may later pick a scoring opportunity that’s unfavorable to you. If you’re following, and you can’t beat the lead card, you need to consider whether the high, high price of discarding a card, leaving you out of later rounds completely, is worth it to grab the initiative. And that’s before we even get to what you’re actually going to do with your cards and actions.
Initially, this can feel suffocating, robbing you of choice and demanding pounds of flesh to get the initiative. But with experience you’ll learn there’s nuance here, a surprising amount of strategy around card-counting and timing. And much of the rest of Arcs is dedicated to ensuring you’ve got options, even in the most barren hands of cards imaginable, although there is, as always, a cost for exercising that flexibility.
One method is to sacrifice resources to gain actions. Giving up a fuel allows you to move, for example, or a material to build or repair. Doing so, however, puts you at a disadvantage for ambitions based on that resource, and you’ll need some of that resource in the first place. You gain resources via the tax action on cities, and the planet they’re on determines which resource you get. You start with two cities, so to gain access to new resource types you need to move a fleet there, either battle to take control or build to found a new city, then tax to get your token. It’s no small undertaking, with a whole series of strategic trade-offs to get there.
The other ameliorating factor are guild cards. There are always a selection of four available, and they provide various new powers and resources. Mining Interest will get you a material resource, for example, while Lattice Spies can be discarded to seize the initiative. Getting a card requires two actions: influence, which lets you place agent pieces on an unclaimed card, and secure, which allows you to take a card on which you have a majority of agents. As always, there’s a sting: if another player claims a card on which you have agents, they capture them. This not only deprives you of their use, but the tally of captured agents is another point-scoring opportunity.
Hopefully you can begin to sell the wheels within wheels within wheels of planning a turn in Arcs. Everything is deviously and brilliantly reliant on everything else. Nothing can be achieved without risk or sacrifice. The game hands you all the tools you need to manage this fraught state of affairs but tells you nothing about how to use them: some of the aspects don’t even look like tools at first, just infuriating bits of chaos or mechanical straitjackets that exist only to annoy until you encounter the circumstance in which you can leverage them, and comprehension dawns like an alien sun rising over an extraterrestrial world. But even as you gain experience, trying to make everything join up, to push all the buttons to your advantage, is a fascinating, difficult, multi-faceted challenge that doesn’t get old.
And I haven’t even got to the fact that all the other players will be trying their best to sabotage your plans. Nothing stops players negotiating or making deals so, atop that solid mechanical core, this is a red-blooded game of dynamic aggression, where both dynamic and aggression are the operative words. The movement system and circular board makes it very hard to defend yourself, or to turtle in corners. You might get one speedbump to slow an enemy fleet en route to your major systems, but that’s it. This ensures every turn when battle actions are available ramp up the tension, as everyone tries to be first to take the fight to the enemy.
When fights do erupt, they’re governed by a fascinating, novel dice mechanic. For each ship they have, the attack can choose a type of dice to roll. Skirmish dice have a 50-50 chance of inflicting minor damage. Assault dice are far more punishing, but they carry a risk of damaging your own ships. Raid dice are the most dangerous for the attacker, but they allow you to steal resources from your opponent. The risk versus reward ratio is very much on you, but pieces can take two hits each and the attacker gets to allocate all damage. So Arcs rewards aggression, since the attacking player can eliminate enemy pieces while distributing damage among their own.
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