If you should ever come across me at a party or gathering, trust that I am either currently playing a board game, waiting for a break in conversation to suggest we take one down from the shelf, or disassociating entirely, thinking only of Ticket to Ride.
I swear, I’m not antisocial. In fact, I’ve found time and again that a good gaming session can bring friends closer together, fostering a connection that transcends idle conversation. So many cherished memories are centered around game nights—a fabricated Scrabble answer still intoned to this day, an impossible clue in a game of charades, a particularly well-played round in a social deduction game. These moments soon become references woven into our social fabric, echoed time and again in trips down memory lane (“Remember when...”) or immortalized in house rules instituted to stop would-be cheaters from infringing again.
Maybe I’m biased, but it seems board games just make us better people. It’s more than just shuffling cards or moving pieces across a board—it’s a sacred shared experience. Gaming is an invitation to laugh, to communicate, and to flex our cognitive muscles in a way that’s accessible, low-stakes, and high-reward. Plus, it never hurts to enjoy a little analog entertainment, trading the digital world for something more tangible. Whether you’re a fellow board game or tabletop enthusiast or a newcomer looking for deeper dives into the unique power of play, these listens serve as a testament to how a well-played game is anything but a mere roll of the dice.
There’s a ubiquity to games; after all, consider the mazes or activities printed on the back of a kid’s menu, the weathered Jenga tower sitting on a bar top, the apps (and ads!) we scroll past and click through each and every day. To be human is to play, whether it’s an improvised sight-seeing game on a long roadtrip or a weekly Magic: The Gathering showdown. Tim Clare’s Across the Board takes listeners on a journey through history to explore the origins of play and how games have evolved over time to become cherished facets of our social lives. Spanning centuries and the entire globe, this listen is an ode to the beauty of play as both “recreation and ritual."
The Spiel des Jahres is among the most coveted awards in tabletop gaming. German for “Game of the Year,” the accolade is an annual celebration of the most innovative, outstanding board games hitting shelves. (If you’re curious about just how outstanding, previous winners have included Code Names, Azul, Cascadia, and, of course, Settlers of Catan.) In Everybody Wins, British games consultant and writer James Wallis offers a comprehensive, colorful look at over four decades of the awards, looking back at major winners, runners-up, and the stellar games that flew under the radar entirely. This is both a fun look at gaming history and a well-curated wishlist for building your personal collection.
Writer and philosopher C. Thi Nguyen is an aficionado of gaming in a myriad of forms. From video games to TTRPGs to games of chance to yo-yoing, he’s well-versed in the unique magic of play. But what happens when scoring methodologies—not just of games, but of work, bureaucracy, health, and everything in between—eclipse or outweigh the very value of doing or being in the first place? And moreover, why is it infinitely more appealing to pour hours into hobbies or recreational play than to gamify career goals? In The Score, Nguyen examines the line between scoring in recreation—which encourages us to strive ever onward without sacrificing the joy of the act itself—and metrics in other facets of life, which don’t quite capture what really matters. Listen in, and don’t miss this interview with Nguyen.
As a lifelong fan of board games who always yearned for a little bit more wiggle room in the imagination department, it was destined that I'd one day become a fan of TTRPGs—that's tabletop role-playing games. Chief among them is my beloved Dungeons and Dragons, a fantasy adventure game that's become so ingrained with our cultural consciousness that it needs little introduction. But what has ensured the game's lasting legacy, over 50 years after it first debuted? Of Dice and Men offers a sweeping look at the game's history, devoted subculture, surprising controversies (looking at you, Satanic Panic), and more, in the process crafting a love letter to D&D and all who play it.
Longtime friends and rivals Rafi Young and Todd Keane are first bonded not by shared circumstance but by a love and appreciation for games. The boys first meet at St. Ignatius’s chess club, and before long, they’re spending hours hunched over Go, a strategy game believed to be among history’s oldest, most enduring board games. Their lives remain intertwined through their college years, but their bond is eroded by guilt, misunderstanding, ego, and irreconcilably different worldviews. Playground by Richard Powers is a staggering meditation on nature, grief, and the deeply human things that technology cannot replicate. A conversation-starting listen musing on artificial intelligence, the magic connection of play, and the impacts—big and small—we leave on ourselves and the world at large, this audiobook is as stunning as it is devastating.
Everyone has their personal bane, and mine is Monopoly. Whether due to the sheer length of play, the mathematics involved, rule inconsistencies from group to group, or sour grapes courtesy of my father's knack for financially destroying his young children every family game night, the classic has admittedly never been one of my favorites. That said, even I have to admit the game has a fascinating history. The Monopolists is an insightful volume examining the little-known story of Monopoly's origins. Author Mary Pilon traces the game back to original inventor Lizzie Magie, a feminist of the Progressive Era who created an anti-monopolist board game called The Landlord's Game. So, how did a game staunchly criticizing unfettered wealth accumulation become a capitalist juggernaut? You'll have to listen to find out.
In International Master and Chess.com co-founder Danny Rensch's memoir Dark Squares, he muses that games can do more than simply improve one's life—they can save it. Rensch was born into a religious cult, spending much of his childhood abused and neglected as a result. Chess offered a psychological escape, a reprieve from the poverty, pain, and isolation that marred his day-to-day. But with his quick wield of the game came attention from the Collective and intense chess training that separated him from his mother. This is the story of Rensch's escape from that world, the shadows that followed him long after, and the shared spaces he went on to build, dedicated to the game that offered solace amid great suffering.
As a millennial, I grew up equal parts enamored with and terrified by Jumanji, the Robin Williams-led film adaptation of this Caldecott Medal-winning children's classic. Both book and film follow siblings Peter and Judy, who come across a mysterious board game called Jumanji and decide—despite the ominous warning indicating that once the game is begun, it must be played to completion—to roll the dice. They have no way of knowing the chaos that's about to begin as monkeys, monsoons, and rhinoceros stampedes find their way out of the game board and into their suburban home. What makes Jumanji so enduring isn't just fantastical storybook adventures or the franchise's many new additions—it's the fact that you can actually play the game yourself. A tie-in edition, released to coincide with the original film, sat on a shelf in my home for years, and while I didn't personally have the experience of a lion stalking into my living room, I certainly had a whole lot of fun using the game's decoder to uncover danger after danger.
When I was in college, there was somewhat of a boom in businesses that understood the social element of board games, while recognizing that not everyone had the means nor the storage to amass a collection themselves. Enter: the humble board game cafe, where a table fee grants you access to a library of games alongside a menu of tasty bites and beverages. I have fond memories of sharing laughs with my friends while playing nostalgic favorites and fumbling through complicated, new-to-us strategy games. The Little Board Game Cafe captures the whimsy and wonder of these shared spaces, exploring the unique opportunities for connection afforded by game night. This charming, small-town rom-com unfolds as down-on-her-luck Emily decides to pursue her dream of opening a cafe. Her shop isn’t off to a great start financially, but when she crosses paths with handsome local doctor (and board game-obsessive) Ludek, a new business model takes shape—and sparks begin to fly.


































