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.
It isn’t often that a puzzle game succeeds in evoking a strong sense of place. Place is the main thing Enchanted Ivy, a solo game from designer Sarah Joshua and publisher Allplay, has going for it. That is no small compliment. To sit down for a session of this spatial puzzle is to feel the sunshine in the clearing, to hear the chatter of guests coming and going. It’s an easy game to get lost in.
Every session, whether playing a standalone game or digging into the charming campaign, you must build your inn, accommodating guests as you go. Draw two cards and place them however you wish, so long as they are contiguous with everything you’ve played so far and they don’t break the pre-determined boundaries of your inn for that game. The vine pattern on each side of each card is identical; the only difference is that one side has a window and the other doesn’t. Each turn, you place one card window-side-up. Into the room upon which that window opens, you must place one of two guests.
These guests are both the ludographic and spiritual heart of Enchanted Ivy. They elevate what would be an enjoyable but somewhat dry exercise into a poignant and individual experience. Their room preferences drive the bulk of the decisions you make. They want to be alone (the Monk), or as close to as many people as possible (the Bard), or to have room in either direction to run their laundry line (the Washer). The thoughtful marriage of individual and scoring criteria gives the game much of its heart and its personality. Of course the Bard wants to be surrounded by guests; to what end performing if you don’t have an audience?
Threading through all of your turns is the ivy, which crosses hither and thither across the different cards. A significant number of points come from the ivy itself, so long as you can keep it all connected. Fewer groups are worth more points. No matter the quality of your planning, cards and guests will inevitably come out in an order that derails everything. On those rare occasions when they don’t, when everything lines up with your designs, it feels phenomenal.
I play a lot of solo games, but they often make me anxious. There’s something about the consistency of the loop, the lack of interruption, that disorients me. Enchanted Ivy is a rare exception; every play is relaxing. It’s even soothingly familiar. As the campaign moves along and departed guests return in later chapters, I find myself happy to see them.
That is thanks in no small part to the artwork of Snow Conrad—great name—and Wenyi Geng. It is tremendous, rich in detail and flavor. “Ghibliesque” has been thrown around a lot with Enchanted Ivy, but the resemblance is more than skin deep. The game earns it. On a substantive level, Enchanted Ivy feels like it draws from Miyazaki’s deep well. Many of these guests, such as the Raven Keeper, the Mystery Knight, and the Washer, are portrayed with an honest eclecticism that suits Miyazaki’s best work.
Enchanted Ivy is a world full of misfits who are too busy being themselves to care what you or anybody else thinks. They’d like their rooms now, if that’s alright. It’s okay if it isn’t perfect. Get it as close as possible, if you wouldn’t mind. We’ve all got to figure out how to get along for the evening. We might as well enjoy ourselves.
