Tabletop Horror
And the art of making cardboard creepy.
We could feel the fire. Smell the burning flesh. With the room in flames and an eldritch creature lurking at the door, we knew there was no way we were getting out alive. We went over our options. Found peace in the fact that, if we were going to die, we should try and take the terror down with us. We readied ourselves. Moved toward the exit with nothing but a couple of bullets and a decision to face our fates.
What you’ve just read isn’t a scene from a book or movie. It’s from a recent board game playthrough. Myself and a friend were tasked with putting a stop to a ritual that would summon an Elder God and while we may have succeeded, we didn’t make it out alive. I’ll let you decide whether that counts as a win.
Anyone who knows me will know I love board games. It’s a hobby that’s enriched my time with people, challenged my thinking, and scratches a very specific itch.
It’s also, as I hope to explain in this newsletter, a great way of exploring horror.
Table tension
Board game designers have a tough challenge. How can they, with little control of pace or tools like jump scares, create something reminiscent of other successful horror media? How can they use cardboard, plastic, and a set of rules to induce discomfort, tension, and dread?
I don’t have the answer to that because I’m not a designer but what I will say is that Final Girl is a game that manages to nail all of those feelings.
As the name suggests, you play as the final girl, moving around a map looking for items, saving victims, and trying to take down a killer who’s stronger, scarier, and smarter than you. You’re at a constant disadvantage, and it doesn’t hold back in letting you know.
Every game is like stepping into a slasher movie, where each ‘feature film’ offers a different spin on the genre. The artwork plays its part, the mechanics have been designed so intensity is wrapped into every dice roll, and the fact it’s played solo taps into all sorts of isolation.
As you watch the killer stalk the summer camp or suburban street, you can’t help but feel a knot in your stomach. The odds are stacked against you. There’s only a slim chance you’re getting out of this. Every decision matters.
Understanding people
Nothing gives a glimpse into the way someone thinks like a good board game. Competitive games do a great job of encouraging interaction and co-operative games, where you work together against the board, are typically so tough to beat they become a wonderful case study in misery loving company.
Semi co-operative games, where you work together with the persistent threat of betrayal, take that player interaction to another level.
In Nemesis, which is essentially Alien: The Board Game, you’re tasked with surviving on an infested ship while completing a personal objective. Only, everyone else has their own objectives that may lead to betrayal and your violent and brutal end. It’s the kind of game that feeds on paranoia, making you question whether the bigger threat is the aliens or the humans around you.
Betrayal at House on the Hill is another that comes to mind. The game’s first half is spent uncovering a haunted house, working together to explore room by room, floor by floor, until an event called The Haunt is triggered. When that happens, someone becomes the betrayer, and everything you’ve learnt and gathered as a team becomes twisted as it turns into one versus everyone else, and all that knowledge could be used against you.
Making horror memorable
A lot of horror board games rely on IPs that already exist. Scream, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Stranger Things, and The Thing are just a few that have been ported to cardboard. In some ways, I’d say those designers have an even greater challenge. Why should I play the game if I can just watch the movie or read the book?
For me, it comes down to its ability to make memories. Whether I’m playing a 20 minute round of something with an existing IP or finishing off a 30 hour campaign in a world that’s completely new, it’s the memories that matter.
It feels like Alice Is Missing should get a mention here. While it’s not horror and more of an RPG than a board game, it is one that highlights the impact gaming can have on people. It’s played in silence, taking place in private messages and group chats, and centres on the disappearance of Alice. You play the people who know her and, over the course of exactly 90 minutes, uncover what’s happened.
I challenge anyone to play it and not leave with a better understanding of both emotion in gaming and the people you’ve experienced it with.
When I think back, it’s the most memorable games that top my list of favourites. The games where losing is as fulfilling as winning, and you’ve learnt something new about yourself or others along the way.
As a writer, I think a lot about the stories I consume. For the most part, I want them to be meaningful, I want them to make me feel something, and I want them to keep me inspired. Board games are an untapped resource for inspiration. They get the imagination going.
So, if you’re someone that likes horror but are unconvinced when it comes to board gaming, think about picking one up.
There’s a world of amazing writing, artwork, and mechanics to explore. You’ll be surprised how many memories you’ll make. You’ll be surprised how creepy cardboard can be.
The games mentioned in this newsletter are only a handful of what’s available out there. If you’d like any more recommendations, you’re welcome to reach out. In the meantime, here are a few others you may enjoy:
Jaws: A hidden movement and strategy game where one person plays the shark and others the characters trying to take it down.
Horrified: A co-operative game where a team of players work together to take down classic Universal monsters.
The Night Cage: A co-operative game about trying to escape a pitch-black labyrinth and its monsters, equipped with nothing but candles.
The Bloody Inn: A strategy game where you play as inn keepers, robbing and murdering guests to make the most money.
Witchcraft!: A recently released solo game where you lead a coven of witches to prove to villagers that magic is not evil and convince a tough jury you’re protecting the village.
Before you go
My latest book, Waxwing Creek, is out now. It’s a collection of interconnected horror stories about a haunted motel in a small town called Hunt. It’s available in paperback and on Kindle (including Kindle Unlimited).
Feel free to check out reviews on Goodreads or click the button below to grab a copy.
If you want to connect, I love hearing from readers. I keep an Instagram updated and post regularly to Threads and Notes. You can also find me on TikTok.
Every Tuesday, I’ve been sharing a micro horror story inspired by a vintage postcard I found in an antique store. You can see the series, called HAUNTED POSTCARDS, on the social channels listed above.
/ JJW