Disclosure: Meeple Mountain received a free copy of this product in exchange for an honest, unbiased review. This review is not intended to be an endorsement.
In Borealis: Arctic Expeditions, players are collecting sets of arctic animal cards, ostensibly as photographs, the fruit of an exploratory mission to the Far North. The set collection is driven first by a static scoring rubric, and second by a set of common goals visible to all. Some goals instigate a race to early completion, while the others linger until the end of the game. The five species of animals are ridiculously cute.
The fascinating puzzle that accompanies the critters involves shuffling scientist meeples across locations as efficiently as possible before they retire to the camp. Players collect their cards into vertically aligned stacks above three locations on the player board. On each far side is a camp. Each acquired card depicts the movement of two scientist meeples either left or right. In order to place a card into a location, the player must move the specific scientists as pictured. The game begins with three scientists in each location—one pink, one blue, and one a non-descript beige-ish color. As the game progresses, then, these scientists shuffle about, creating new combinations that open new possibilities and new restrictions. When a scientist is shuffled off into one of the edge camps, they must remain there until a regroup turn.
Adding one final wrinkle to the mix, each card depicts one of five possible vehicles. Beneath each location on the player board, players stare at tracks featuring pairs of these vehicle icons. When the placed card contains a vehicle icon with a match for the next pair on the track, they move their flag down a level, away from the camp. Some of the game’s objectives pertain to these tracks, but they also unleash end-game scoring based on progress.
Once a player has exhausted their card-playing possibilities, the regroup turn helps—for the most part. Where it would be most obviously kind to allow for the distribution of returning scientists according to need, Borealis: Arctic Expedition tosses kindness to the wind and dumps them all in a single location. This is both maddening and brilliant. The sudden heap of help makes for an interesting decision, because you’ve spent several turns building a useful trajectory. This new overdose of possibility might also force a tactical pivot. The need for specific scientists in specific locations suddenly raises the need for new cards to begin relocation. Thankfully the regroup turn also allows for a reset of cards in hand if the refreshed situation presents problems.
Finding the word
While the puzzle of Borealis: Arctic Expeditions is engaging, the one—shall we say less-than-exciting?—problem rears its head almost immediately. Players maintain a hand of four cards throughout the game, replenished by a market of four cards and a face-down discard pile. Each turn concludes with drawing a replacement card.
It’s all so very…
Procedural is one word that comes to mind. Players evaluate the cards almost from top to bottom. First, options are governed by whether the required scientists are available in any location (or will be following the next planned turn or two). Second, options are governed by the animal species and the objective cards on the table. Third, options are governed by whether the depicted vehicle icon will generate desirable movement on the track. Players must constantly cycle through these options mentally in the attempt to create a queued hand of cards that will allow for a fruitful sequence of turns. In looking at the card market, then, the procedure must run its due course.
Uneven, then, is another word. As you can imagine, once the cards are in hand, gameplay is more or less programmed and moves forward without a hitch. Turns take mere seconds. Card selection, on the other hand, takes many, many more seconds. Players often finish their action, only to join the queue to draw a card. From a time perspective, too much of the game is spent waiting. In four-player games, it is entirely possible that at least three of the four are waiting to select a card at the same time. Those larger affairs felt like a childhood game of red light-green light, trying to run with your foot on the brake pedal.
In a word, then, Borealis: Arctic Expeditions, has proven to be fairly boring. I am not a solo player by nature, but I found myself wishing there was a solo mode. As far as I can tell, this one would be a wonderful solitaire game, one that moves entirely at my speed. As is, the pacing is just too uneven to be worth engaging with multiple humans.
I think of an older puzzle game like Reef, which rules that a turn must be either playing a card or selecting a card rather than both. Emerson Matsuuchi saw something in his design that suggested that a better tension came from choosing one or the other, a tension that evaporates in favor of frustration should a turn contain both. Reef’s recent doppelgänger, Harmonies, also dodges the timing issue somewhat by making card draw optional. I wish Dariusz Mindur had struck a similar balance. I’m not sure the issue is so simple, but there is no doubting the issue.
Left cold
And it’s a shame, too, because the puzzle of Borealis: Arctic Expeditions is quite interesting. I love programming a series of maneuvers, moving the scientists, and collecting those cute little critters. The various objectives are interesting. I enjoy being pulled in certain directions only to then face a pivot point at the regroup turn. I really, genuinely do. But I left every single play frustrated by uneven pacing and time that felt wasted. I’ve not faced requests to play again.
If Borealis: Arctic Expeditions comes back to the table, I imagine I’ll be trying to Reef it or to Harmonize it by tinkering with the rules. I struggle with that compulsion. I have learned to love flawed games before (The Flow of History, anyone?) but I need others who are willing to embrace the awkward struggle together. I’m not sure I’ve found that crew in this case. I’m not entirely sure I’m on that crew. I hope it’s not the last time I’ve seen these mechanisms, though, because there is gold nestled in them snow drifts.
