Wingspan Review
Right, so we're talking about a game about birds. BIRDS. Not invading Russia in winter, not managing an intergalactic empire, but collecting small, feathered creatures and putting them in a habitat. It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? The sensible alternative would be to go outside and actually look at a bird. But why on earth would you do that when you can stay indoors, in the warm, playing the most staggering, beautiful tabletop engine-builder ever conceived?
Elizabeth Hargrave, the designer, has done something quite extraordinary here. She’s taken a hobby usually reserved for people in beige fleeces and turned it into a competitive bloodsport. Published by Stonemaier Games—who usually deal in giant mechs or wine-making—Wingspan is an engine builder, but saying that is like saying a Ferrari Enzo is just an automobile. It's a symphony of pastel colors, tactile eggs that look so appetizing you genuinely have to stop your friends from eating them, and a dice tower shaped like a birdhouse. A birdhouse!
The Engine Room
You lay eggs, you gather food, and suddenly you have an engine purring louder than an Aston Martin V12. It’s epic. Absolutely epic. Let's be honest, you've spent the last decade rolling grey dice to move grey cubes in grim, post-apocalyptic space games, haven't you? This? This is a vibrant explosion of joy in a box.
The mechanics are smoother than a freshly waxed bobsleigh run. On your turn, you do one of four things. You play a bird, you get food, you lay eggs, or you draw cards. That’s it. It’s so simple a reasonably intelligent Labrador could grasp the basics. But the depth. Good grief, the depth is staggering. Each bird you add to your habitat makes that row more powerful. By the fourth round, you aren't just taking an action; you're triggering a chain reaction of avian abilities that feels like watching a Rube Goldberg machine made of feathers and nectar.
The Suitability Test
Family Sessions
Is it suitable for the family? Oh, staggeringly so. It's competitive, yes, but in that quiet, passive-aggressive way where nobody destroys your empire; they just attract a slightly better Chipping Sparrow than you. Even Auntie Susan, who usually panics when she sees a combat die, will be happily hoarding nectar and laying eggs before you've finished your tea. It’s the sort of game that brings families together, mostly because everyone is too busy looking at the gorgeous illustrations to start an argument about the inheritance.
Hard-core Gamers
Will your hard-core gamer friends hate it? They'll pretend to. They'll look at the pastel artwork, scoff, and demand something with spreadsheets and misery. But give it twenty minutes. Underneath the soothing exterior lies an engine-combining puzzle so viciously tight they'll be sweating over whether to play a Cassowary or draw two cards. It's a wolf in sheep's clothing, if the sheep were a beautifully illustrated Great Blue Heron. The sheer number of birds—over 170 in the base game alone—means that no two engines ever feel the same. It’s like being handed a different jigsaw puzzle every time you open the box, only the pieces are alive and occasionally eat fish.
Pros and Cons
| Pros | Cons |
|---|---|
The artwork belongs in the Louvre, frankly. | The food dice leaping out of the birdfeeder. |
Premium, weighty, and luxurious components. | Almost zero direct player interaction. |
Engine building is smoother than silk. | Requires a very large table for all the bits. |
Final Thoughts
There are people out there who will tell you that a game about birdwatching can't be "metal." Those people are wrong. They are the same people who think a sandwich isn't a sandwich unless it's been cut into triangles. Wingspan is a triumph of design, a masterpiece of production, and quite possibly the most addictive thing you can do with cardboard without being arrested.
Final Verdict: Buy it yourself. Do it now. Sell your grandmother's antique vase if you have to, and get this on your table. It is, quite simply, the best thing to happen to birds since the invention of the birdbath.
