Board Games as Art and Culture

Introduction

For over 5000 years board games have been enjoyed by humans. The earliest known board game is Senet, of which evidence has been found linking back to 3500 BC. In recent years we have seen the industry explode like never before as hobby gaming moved closer to a mainstream pursuit. Games are no longer abstract like dice and chequers, and they are no longer limited to the realms of family or child-friendly entertainment. Games such as Daybreak exist, covering real-world problems like climate change and global warming. Molly House explores the themes of the underground LGBTQ+ culture in Victorian London. Spirit Island and others are starting to flip the script on traditional colonialist themes, reflecting more modern perceptions on imperialism and historical conquests.

For those who are in the hobby it feels as though there is little doubt that games are cultural artifacts and could even be considered their own art form. Yet is it fair to say that alongside high-end television, film, and literature, games are too often overlooked when consideration is given to artistic forms of expression?

A central belief of Hand Limit is that board games are more than just cultural assets, they are an art form. Looking beyond the graphical representation of art on the boxes and boards, board games convey meaning that the designer (read: artist) wishes to convey, and the player (read: audience) brings their own perspective to. This creates the same interaction found between author and reader, or director and audience. On one side you have the intent for meaning, and on the other you have the interpretation.
Of course, not all board games can be considered Art (with a capital A), in the same way that not every blob of paint on canvas can be considered Art. However, there must be an understanding that painting onto canvas is still an art form, even if the end product is not considered worthy of being considered Art. All board games are designed using the same art form, even if the end product is not deemed Art. 
All board games are cultural assets, the same as all television shows are, but not all board games are Art. What I have been considering is the potential that exists for art to be made through the medium of games. What I am hoping to achieve in this article is a succinct argument for table top games to be considered as legitimate forms of art and undeniable cultural artifacts.

Games as Cultural Artifacts

Tabletop games as a form of cultural artifact may seem like a fairly obvious statement to make. For almost as long as there has been civilisation, people have been sitting together to engage in recreational games. These games may have started out as abstract games like Go and Senet but as cultures have transformed, so have the games we play. 

Writing for Tabletop Games Blog, Oliver Kinne uses the German word Kulturgut, which describes items that have cultural value and therefore must be preserved. An example of Kulturgut would be literature. A British person, Kinne writes, "can easily see how the works of Shakespeare have a cultural value and require to be preserved. Yet, when it comes to [tabletop games], people don't necessarily think of modern board games as Kulturgut."

Kinne goes on to say that the Spiel des Jahres association is trying to bring tabletop games more into the limelight of the culturally important. The primary strength of this endeavor is the argument that table top games are no longer just for children. There are many modern games that cover real world issues and even attempt to tackle difficult subjects. Let's not forget the boom in popularity that the Pandemic series saw during the Covid-19 global pandemic. More recently we have seen games such as Molly House and John Company, both published by Wehrlegig Games, tackling historical events of huge social importance.

Games, like other forms of cultural assets such as films, reflect a certain cultural zeitgeist. Particularly the bestsellers, they can be seen as the embodiment of a trend or fashion of their time. We can see this in the rise in popularity of Legacy games, first popularised by Risk Legacy in 2011. Now there are many Legacy titles from some of the biggest names in the tabletop industry, from Pandemic to Ticket to Ride. The increase in games that use this long-form play style that reveals a narrative over consecutive plays, shows that as board games increased in popularity, people also craved this new narrative style and commitment to multiple play sessions with the same group of people. As a cultural artifacts, these games show us how tastes in entertainment have changed in recent years and in a wider context it reveals that people are more committed to the act of play in their spare time.

Furthermore, we can take a look at the actual subject of games to see a cultural shift. Board games have a long history of exploring the theme of colonialism, and not always in a culturally aware way. Writing about Catan for The Conversation, Biz Nijdam, Assistant Professor for the Department of Central, Eastern, and Northern European Studies at the University of British Columbia, writes "games that incorporate colonial histories and strategies into their narratives or game mechanic normalize these discourses through their status as a popular pastime".

Nijdam states that "since 1995, board games have continued to include themes of settler colonialism". Several of these games have even gone so far as to include Indigenous populations during and following their first contact with colonial powers.

"These features often merge or misrepresent Indigenous cultures and traditions in problematic ways... These games seek to create a compelling story at the expense of Indigenous traditional knowledge and contemporary lived experience."

 However, Nijdam highlights games developed by Indigenous designers and board game enthusiasts that introduce "counter discourses". We also have games such as Spirit Island from 2017 that actively seek to demonize the act of settler colonialism, with players taking the roles of mystical spirits bent on repelling the destructive invaders.

While there is still a long way to go in combating the reoccurring theme of destructive colonialism, particularly in instances where the native populations are portrayed as nothing but compliant wooden pieces on a cardboard board, games that show a shift away from this reveal a changing cultural awareness. In this way, board games are a fascinating cultural touchstone that show how tastes and values change in society.

Board Games as Art

Playing with Design: Gameboards, Art, and Culture is an art exhibition currently showing at the American Folk Art Museum in New York until 13th September (I wish I could have gone to that one). The show takes a close look at handmade boards from the United States between the mid 18th and early 19th centuries, with thematic sections exploring what these playful objects reveal about American culture, history, design and craftsmanship. The exhibition promises more than 100 boards including early examples of classic games of Parcheesi, checkers, and chess, as well as hand-painted examples of Monopoly and Chutes and Ladders (Snakes and Ladders for the UK audience). 

The American Folk Art Museum website advertises that the exhibition explores the shift toward modernism at the turn of the twentieth century, with some pieces giving shape to historical ideals, including morality, religion, patriotism, entrepreneurship and imagination.

There is perpetually a question of what is considered Art but one sure fire way of knowing is whether an art gallery or museum has an entire exhibition centered around it. Is this enough, however? As most objects, given a sufficient span of time could find their way into an art museum in some way. These objects on display are art because they speak of the cultural fabric at the time of their creation and how this contrasts with the modern day. What does this mean for board games in our current era? Are they only to be considered art once an historian is able to look back at them? Can the artistic merit of a board game go beyond the cover art?

In order to explore this we need to scratch a little deeper into what art actually is (don't worry, I will keep it brief). 

Art is our ability to express our thoughts, emotions, intuitions, and desires, writes Joseph Nieters contributing to Philosophynow.org's Question of the Month. But it runs deeper than this, in a more personal way, art is how we communicate our own unique experiences and perceptions of the world around us.

Here we meet the problem that not every painting is considered Art (with a capital A), but it remains the product of an artistic practice. The content instilled in the medium we choose is not inherently art, but the way in which that medium is used and the content expressed to others could be considered Art.

I think this neatly captures a definition of art that goes beyond the simple dictionary definition:

Art

noun

1. the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.

Even taking this vanilla definition of art we are faced with the problem that table top games are arguably not appreciated for their beauty or emotional power. In fact I own at least one game that I would struggle to describe as beautiful (no I shall not say the exact one I'm thinking of because despite it's aesthetic shortcomings, I still love it dearly). It might be argued that games are designed primarily to be enjoyed as an entertaining diversion. However, I will return to this later.

At their most enjoyable, table top games become an act of collaborative storytelling. This is perhaps more noticeable in more thematic games, rather than abstract ones, but the story remains. With abstract games such as checkers or chess it falls to the individual taking part to assert their own imaginative narrative to the pieces in play, whereas the narrative of a game such as Horrified is right there on the box for all to see and agree on.

"Storytelling is the core of art". Or so says the Arete Gallery website. "The art of storytelling goes beyond just painting a picture or sculpting a form. It involves a deliberate effort to create a narrative that speaks to the human experience. Storytelling gives the artwork context, purpose, and meaning, which is what makes it relatable and impactful."

So going beyond the simple aesthetics of a game, we come to the core of what makes play great; telling a story. This, I believe, is the nugget of gold at the center of every well designed game. It taps into the human desire to tell stories, a desire that has been with us since the dawn of time. Storytelling creates a powerful connection between the storyteller and the audience, and when this is a collaborative tale, it creates strong bonds with everyone around the table.

"Story telling captures a moment in time", the Arete Gallery goes on to write. "It involves a conscious effort to create a visual narrative that freezes a particular moment in time, allowing the audience to experience it in a unique way". Therefore, when games designers put together their story, be it about agricultural practices, hunting North American cryptids, or murdering people in an 18th century French tavern, they are capturing a moment in time that can then be experienced by people around the world in their own unique way.

Moving beyond the idea that playing table top games is storytelling, and that storytelling is art, I was recently watching the Shut Up & Sit Down review of John Company Second Edition. In this video essay (it beautifully goes beyond a standard review) Tom Brewster discusses the thorny topic of John Company. Namely, the practices of the dreaded East India Trading Company. In this game the players must take the role of company directors and earn money through the many devastating and exploitative ways that are widely historically recorded. 

At face value, this topic is a big risk to be translated into the format of a board game, something that people are supposed to enjoy, laugh about, play. However, the designers of the game face this head on and make it clear that before anyone is invited to play, they must first consent to participate in the reenactment of the murder and exploitation of native people across the globe. This game, Tom Brewster, argues, is closer to performance art. It encourages people to engage in an immersive experience in which they must endure the discomfort of committing atrocities in the name of profit. In doing so, John Company uses the absurdity of play to satirise the historical power and highlight the extreme violence and manipulation that unchecked capitalism caused.

(If you've not watched the video yet, I highly recommend pausing your reading and watching it now. Or watch it after. The internet isn't going anywhere. In the video, Tom also discusses the Ad Reinhardt cartoon, How to Look at Abstract Art, which also perfectly encapsulates how board games can be considered art, provided the viewer brings the right understanding or representation to the table.)

All this considered, I believe that on many faces, board games can and should be considered art in ways that goes beyond their graphic design. 

A Case Against

Arguing that something is art is all well and good but we must also consider the antithesis. What makes something not art? 

David Dennan, Assistant Professor of Applied English at Chihlee University of Technology, makes a compelling argument that games are not, by and large, art. In his article he mainly discusses video games in relation to his theory, but early on makes that case that video games are in the same category as "Monopoly or poker, not Picasso's "Guernica" or Beethoven's Fifth Symphony." As such I feel it entirely appropriate to use his argument to apply to board and table top games.

"Videogames are games, and games are not a subcategory of art."

Dennan argues that while games may utilise aspects of art, such as graphics or music, this does not equate to making them art. But where does Dennan base this assertion that games cannot, and should not, be considered art?

Firstly, Dennan makes the case that in deciding whether something is art we must look at it from two perspectives; from the point of view of the creator, and the point of view of the user. "What was the person's intention in making it, and how do people actually use it?" He argues that art is something that its creator makes purely to be "apprehended from within what [he's] going to call the aesthetic attitude." Therefore, art is anything that the user apprehends from this "aesthetic attitude". 

The aesthetic attitude, Dennan explains, is to treat something as an experience in and of itself. This is in contrast to the "practical attitude... which treats objects as a means beyond themselves." As a result of this use of the definition, art is something made to be experienced as art, and is subsequently experienced thus by its audience. Should either ends of this transaction fall down, the object in question would cease to be art. 

But, I hear you ask, what if the designer of a board game has the intention of making it as art, and the user on the other end experiences it as an artistic artifact? Well to start with Dennan argues that we must consider how an object is typically used, rather than on a case by case basis. "Virtually anything else in existence, can be aestheticaly appreciated". However, the reason we don't call every shoe, or pile of leaves, art is because they are typically not created to be art. They are created to serve a practical purpose.

Secondly, Dennan raises the point that games are made not with the aesthetic attitude, but with what he calls the "ludic" attitude. Meaning that the game has a "goal and more-or-less explicit rules about how that goal can be achieved."

"The ludic attitude and the aesthetic attitude are mutually exclusive."

Dennan does make the case that the ludic and aesthetic attitudes do have something in common, which is the reason they are often confused. Both attitudes are distinct from, and opposed to, the practical attitude. Neither games nor art are directly related to survival.

The argument that games are not art is summed up by Dennan by stating that "Art is about a protected form of experience accompanied by a minimum of action. Games... are about a protected form of action accompanied by a fairly limited range of experience." 

Ultimately, Dennan argues that the ludic attitude and aesthetic attitude are too opposed to find sufficient commonality to allow for a cross over. That is not to say that he does not value games as important cultural assets. He makes it quite clear in his article that in order for them to be considered important to our lives, they don't need to be considered art. He suggests that the desire for games to be considered art is the product of academics in the field wanting their subject to be considered with more importance.

Conclusion

David Dennan uses comparison in his article that "when the average person thinks of art they think of a painter like Rembrant  [sic.] or a work like the "Mona Lisa". When the average person thinks of games they're apt to think of Candyland or tag or Super Mario Bros." The issue I have with this is that Dennan has chosen a poor comparison. Just as not all art is made the same, neither are all games. I think it would be fair to say that this comparison works the same as if I were to compare, say, Will Smith and Mozart. Both are musicians, music is a widely regarded form of art, but you'd think there was something wrong with me if I labelled them intellectual equals. Maybe Candyland isn't on the same level as the Mona Lisa, but you can't take the worst of one discipline and compare it to the best of another, to claim that the two disciplines are not alike.

The idea that something cannot be considered art because it is not typically made to be art, I feel is a narrow point of view that fails to grasp the breadth of artistic endeavor. Furthermore, the use of the ludic attitude to describe that games have a specific goal and rules in which they must be appreciated, I feel is short sighted. I would argue that all art has a specific goal and rules on how they are to be engaged with. These goals may not be written in a rulebook but when curating exhibitions, galleries are creating strict environments and boundaries in how the art is to be perceived and used by the audience. Guides and plaques offer the viewer insight into the artist's process and what they were hoping to convey with each piece of art. These indicate that even the aesthetic attitude has rules and a goal, even if they are often unspoken. A work of art, say a banana taped to a gallery wall, loses context and shifts meaning if it were to be taken out into the middle of the woods, for example. In order for the art to convey the intended meaning, it must be placed and viewed in the way the artist intended.

I think much of Dennan's argument comes undone when considering the space for immersive and performance art. My "real world" job brings me into contact with a lot of immersive art exhibitions using digital technology, and these are more akin to games than I feel Dennan realises. These are experiences that rely on audience interaction and participation in order to operate. As such they come with more explicit rules than the average exhibition. As advanced immersive technologies continue to find their place in artistic spaces, we are seeing a blurring of the lines between the ludic and the aesthetic attitudes. They are not as mutually exclusive as they may appear. If we view games as immersive art, even with the concession that we are aiming to achieve a goal within set boundaries, we can begin to recognise that board and table top games can be considered works of art. This of course, comes down to the intention of the creator and the user, but as with Ad Reinhardt's cartoon mentioned above, this is a two way street.

Robustly considered, board games are unarguably cultural artifacts that carry an imprint of the desires, morals, and attitudes of the time in which they were created. Sometimes these attitudes are placed in reference to an historical setting, such as Molly House or John Company, to satirise the events or educate the players. Furthermore, if all that defines art is the intent of production and the intent of the user, I feel that board games can and should be considered a form of art in the same way that literature is. Is every book art? Not by a long-shot. The same can be said of table top games, but I strongly believe that board games, and table top games as a whole, have the capacity to be a form of immersive artistic experience. 

Zombicide: Undead or Alive - As good as fluoxetine?

 

When it comes to matter of mental health, I believe that table top games can be a tremendous force for good. Will they completely fix any problems a person might have? Absolutely not, but if engaged with properly, they can be a powerful tool that can help people reconnect with each other and themselves.

When I first got into the hobby I found that playing board games really helped me achieve what those in the mindfulness industry call the "flow state"; a meditative state in which someone is focused on an activity and negative thoughts fade away. When in this flow state it's not uncommon for the individual to be unaware of the passage of time, so absorbed are they with the task they are undertaking. Meditation is a great way to achieve this, but that requires much practice and discipline. Board games are far easier to access, an let's face it, more fun to indulge in.

I am very open about my own lifetime of mental health struggles, and was formally (finally) diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2 back in 2024. This diagnosis changed my life. Not only was I able to access to support and medication that I needed, but so much of my life that I struggled to understand suddenly made a lot more sense. Thanks to the work of the medical professionals who helped me, I now feel what many would consider "normal", which is still a novel experience for me.

No amount of counselling or medication will ever make my bipolar disorder go away, however, and it is still a daily task for me to stay on top of my own mental health. Some days are easier than others and I am grateful for every good day that I have. As you can imagine, table top games are a frequently relied upon weapon in my arsenal. 

Recently I have been feeling another turn in the never ending cycle of my mood, which often hits at the changing of the seasons, and it's been feeling increasingly autumnal recently. I love the autumn but as the nights start drawing in and the weather turns ever more grey, I find my ever present depression does the same. It might be a shadow of it's former self, thanks to my brain medicine, but it can still take a few days or a week for me to move past.

The other day I was feeling particularly low and also spending the day by myself so I decided to turn to a session of solo-gaming to keep me occupied. Initially I pulled out Cartographers: Heroes, which is a fun and fairly simple flip-and-write in which you reveal cards and fill out spaces on a map based on the shape and land-type shown. Think Tetris but you're constructing a map and scoring points based on the configurations you put together.

It's a fun game and as a solo experience it was fairly meditative, but it wasn't doing the job I needed it to. I was going through the motions, and for want of a better word, I was enjoying myself but it wasn't pulling me out of the brain fog. It was a distraction while I played it but I was far from that flow state I desired.

After some lunch (noodles, my comfort food), I decided to clear the kitchen table and bring out the big guns, Zombicide: Undead or Alive. This game comes in a reassuringly weighty box, packed tightly with miniatures, cards, and tokens. I brewed some coffee as I slowly set up the next scenario in the booklet, laid out all the character boards, reviewed my objectives, and then got stuck in.

Zombicide: Undead or Alive is a Wild West take on the classic Zombicide formula (think Left 4 Dead - if video games are your thing) with some minor quality of life improvements, and thematically it more than sticks the landing. Everything about the game design screams both Yee and Haw with steam trains, gattling guns, and fanning the hammer of a six shooter into hordes of the undead. It's a tense ride and perfectly balances increasing the difficulty with the levelling up of characters to ensure you never feel entirely on top of any situation. A bad dice roll or an ill advised move is all it takes to become overwhelmed by the ever growing crowds of rotting corpses. 

I love a game that combines strategy with blind luck in the roll of some dice, and oh boy does this game deliver on that promise. It could be said that with dice rolling and drawing items from a deck there is slightly too much chance involved, some sessions feel doomed from the start if character fails to get kitted out effectively in the first couple of turns. This doesn't diminish the enjoyment I get from it though, as you need to go into this game with the frame of mind that it's not over until it's over. Just as a bad roll of the dice can spell the end for your luckless cowboys, a few good rolls can completely turn the tables and bring you back on top.

As it happens, I had a good run and almost beat the scenario, right up until one character failed a couple of rolls and was swarmed by runners (this game answers the eternal question of fast or slow zombies by having both of them). The game had my heart racing and my mind abuzz with strategies to eek out survival for just a little bit longer. Needless to say, I was definitely distracted from my previous spiral of negative thoughts for I don't know how long. 

It got me thinking about why Zombicide succeeded when Cartographers failed. Cartographers is a far more relaxed experience, which on the face of it seemed like a better fit for the low mood I was in, but what I realised was that I needed rules. I needed a juicy set of rules to get my brain computing without straying too far into the realms of a crunchy eurogame. I needed a theme that was exciting and just a little bit silly. Zombicide got the cogs in my brain turning and for a few hours (I assume, I still have no idea how long I was playing for) I was lost in the world of the game. How could I be anxious about the nebulous future when I had tangible little plastic zombies to direct my anxiety towards? How could I feel hopeless when a steam train came barreling down the tracks, promising a way out of the undead nightmare?

Board games give structure to a situation. I've written before about how they give structure to social situations and help us get to know each other better, but what I realised the other day was that the structure they provide can also be psychological. When my mind is messy and wandering to unhelpful places, games can provide a framework for me to build my thoughts around. They are tangible and interactive yet also activate the imagination, building worlds out of nothing more than a few bits of cardboard and plastic.

Did Zombicide cure my depressive mood? No. That remains something that I just have to ride out. But it did provide me with some respite during the game and for a good while afterwards. It gave me the distance from my negative thoughts that I needed to remind myself that as always, these episodes are only temporary. I've survived them before, I will survive them again. 

Table top gaming provided me with clarity and refuge from a storm and I think they have the power to help others in this same way. It's the driving force behind Hand Limit, to reach out to other people who might feel the benefit of play and provide them with the tools they need to help them overcome their own battles.