By Alessar Games

Few days ago was the 10th anniversary of Frostgrave. To me, was the perfect time to review it!

I got into Frostgrave soon after exploring Mordheim, and it felt like a parallel world.

The skirmishes were similar in concept, but with a frigid twist. Instead of Mordheim's wrecked streets, you're in the frozen ruins of Felstad, a magical city full of treasure, danger, and angry snow trolls. Thanks to a friend, I got my hands on the beautifully designed hardback rulebook and was immediately hooked!

For those new to the hobby, Frostgrave is a fantasy skirmish wargame for two or more players, designed by Joseph A. McCullough and published by Osprey Games in 2015. In it you control a wizard and their warband, delving into the ruins of a frozen, treasure-filled city.

Playing a game of Frostgrave is surprisingly straightforward. Each player takes turns activating a single model, moving, fighting, or casting spells. Combat is resolved with a simple D20 opposed roll, where you add your model's fight stat to the roll, trying to beat your opponent. The core of your warband is your wizard and their apprentice, who are the only ones capable of casting the powerful magic that makes the game so fun.

And how cool they are!

The rest of your warband is made up of soldiers you hire, from cheap thugs to expensive knights, each with their own role. Your main goal? Grab treasure tokens scattered across the board and get them off your side of the table before your opponent does.

So, wizard and apprentice. This is where the magic comes in.

There are ten schools of magic, from the reality-bending powers of Chronomancy (my personal favorite) to the fiery destruction of Pyromancy. Each wizard picks one school as their specialty, which makes spells from that school easier to cast. This choice dictates your playstyle and makes each wizard feel truly unique.

The campaign system is easily one of Frostgrave's strongest points and the reason I keep coming back. As you play through scenarios, your wizard and warband gain experience, new spells, and better gear. This progression creates a real sense of narrative and emotional investment.

Osprey Games and North Star Military Figures have done a fantastic job with the game's production. It is easily one of the best product out there. The hardcover rulebook is a work of art, beautifully designed with evocative art that perfectly captures the icy, arcane feel of Felstad. While the official miniatures are great and perfectly fit the theme, one of the game's biggest strengths is its flexibility. The rules encourage you to use any miniatures you own, which is perfect for players who already have a collection. So, kinda agnostic as approach, the erfect one.

While the game embraces randomness with its D20 rolls, which adds to the chaotic fun and leads to memorable moments, some players might find this frustrating. A lucky roll can completely turn a game on its head, which can be a bit swingy for competitive players. However, this randomness is a feature, not a bug, and it keeps the game feeling fresh and unpredictable. This is the side you will love the most at the end!

The game's replayability is also boosted by its many official expansions, such as Thaw of the Lich Lord and Into the Breeding Pits, which add new scenarios, monsters, and spells. I personally never tried the expansions, since I am the kinda "core game only" guy for most things. They've also helped to address some of the balance issues from the first edition. I remember a friend who spammed the Mud Wall spell to block off the entire board, it was both hilarious and infuriating.

The later editions have cleaned up these kinds of exploits, making the game flow much better.

Frostgrave is often compared to games like Mordheim, and for good reason. Both are campaign-based skirmish games with progressing warbands. However, Frostgrave is a more whimsical alternative. While Mordheim is a dark and gritty game of street-level combat, Frostgrave is a lighthearted romp of magical mayhem in the snow.

Frostgrave is perfect for players looking for a streamlined, elegant system that encourages storytelling and fun without getting bogged down in complex rules. And the A5 like format of the rulebook fits in every damn bag!

If you're a player who loves the idea of building a narrative through a campaign and doesn't mind a little chaos, you'll love it.

After years and multiple editions, Frostgrave has become a staple in all gaming groups. It's the perfect mix of accessible rules and strategic depth, and it never fails to create memorable, chaotic, and fun moments, whether you're fighting rival wizards or just trying to keep your apprentice from getting eaten by a snow troll.

Well done guys!

By Alessar Games

I've always been drawn to global campaigns in miniature wargaming, ever since I was a silly 13-year-old and found Games Workshop’s Eye of Terror campaign in 2003.

HOW COOL WAS THAT?!

The idea blew my mind: imagine thousands of players around the world, all playing their own games of Warhammer 40,000, with every result changing the galaxy's fate. Your game suddenly was part of something bigger, a shared story that changed in real time. I remember checking the campaign website almost every day, watching the maps change as Imperial and Chaos forces fought for the Cadian Gate.

I tried to fight for the chaos, but with bad results…

The forums were full of strategy chats, propaganda, and theories about how it might end. Even if you were just a kid rolling dice on a kitchen table you felt like you were helping decide the future. That feeling of being a small part of a large story machine has stayed with me.

Years later, I joined another shared story: Principati di Sangue, a fan-made italian online campaign set in the Mordheim world. This time, I wasn't just watching but playing, reporting my games, writing short stories, and seeing how our actions shaped the map. Mordheim, with its warband growth, injuries, and loot after games, is great for building stories, but Principati di Sangue made it even better. I contributed with my Chaos Dwarves, and it was a lot of fun doing that.

I always loved battle reports! And since I am a professional writer, I like them even more now.

That experience helped me create The Call of Dolrain, my current project. It is shared somehow with my gaming group, the Plundemordhe Team, co-creators (with me) of Desolation. It’s a campaign I run with my gaming group, set on a wild island after a disaster, full of relics, cults, and old monsters.

There were a first part, 15 years ago, and now we returned to that damn island!

Like Eye of Terror and Principati di Sangue, Dolrain has a global aspect. I post daily scenarios online as Instagram stories, so anyone can join in and play using their favorite fantasy rules (Mordheim, Saltwind, Forbidden Psalm or Others). Players can send in battle reports, photos, and stories, which get added to the changing map and story. My local games are just one small part of something much larger, and I like seeing how others play in the same world.

I think global campaigns are the best way to share stories in gaming. They mix the personal feel of your games with the excitement of being part of a shared story, where every dice roll can have a big impact. From the huge chaos of Eye of Terror, to the streets of Principati di Sangue, to the shores of Dolrain, the magic is always the same: we make the story together!

By Alessar Games

Often, the most rewarding part of miniature wargaming is what happens after the game. Most players think about deployment and how to play the game, but I think the post-game phase is just as important as playing.

Here’s why.

Many tabletop RPGs already do this well. Between games, players level up and change their gear. They also make story choices and plan for their next game. This time between sessions allows players to be creative and invest in the story. The best skirmish games do the same thing.

Take Mordheim, as an example. It’s about more than just getting through the game. After the fight, you and your group add up experience, roll for injuries, and go shopping. You also get new fighters and talk about if that one hero should get a new sword or retire. What you decide after each battle matters. This is where your warband comes together, where how you play meets the story, and where you start planning long-term.

Some of the most exciting things happen after the game is over. Can your champion survive their injury? Do you want to hire that expensive fighter? Should you sell the stones now or save them for later? Planning to buy that expensive artifact?

These choices make the battles mean more and make you feel like you're getting somewhere.

And they create a narrative, a deep lore for you and your group.

When I create skirmish games at Alessar Games, I always think about this part of the game. It’s very important. A good game makes you care about more than just winning or losing. It lets you stay in the game's world and imagine what your warband does between missions.

In Saltwind, what happens after the game is when players make big choices, get prizes, face the results of their actions, and change the island. Some players have said they like this part more than the game. 

That's the point!

Games like Mörk Borg's Forbidden Psalm also do well because of what happens after the game. They make you feel like there's a continuous story, and there can be loss and unexpected events. Your crew might come back hurt, blessed, changed, or rich. You never know what will happen, and that keeps you wanting to play.

In the end, what happens after the game makes your characters, factions, and imagination last longer. It makes the world more interesting. It also lets you think about what happened, make changes, and get ready for the next game.

If you’re creating a game or playing one, think about the post-game. Make it a big part of the experience.

That’s where legends are made, where scars tell stories and forge memories, and where the game truly goes on!

By Alessar Games

I'm a big fan of both board games and video games, especially when I can team up with friends.

Games like Risk of Rain, Deep Rock Galactic, and Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime, Lego games, I love them! There’s something amazing about the way cooperation, crazy stuff, and stories come together to make you want to play just one more run. That's the feeling I wanted to bring to Lowpower.

What? A videogame?!

Yes! And an online one! I’ve been working on Lowpower, a co-op platformer, for a while, and I’m excited to give it away for free.

You play as an energy scavenger working for Panormus, who isn't exactly friendly. Panormus sends you to grab power from dying, unstable worlds. Here’s the thing: you’re not a hero. The Energy is dying, and your missions are making it worse. It’s a game about doing what you’re told, even if it’s wrong.

Lowpower universe started as a smaller mobile project with my brother called Another World Is Lost. It was simple, but the main idea stuck with me. So, I took that idea and turned it into a full PC platformer. I rewrote the story, changed the world, and focused on the weird energy-fantasy vibe. I made the 3D models in Blender. I made it all.

This follow-up, Lowpower, became its own thing.

The game has six types of characters. Each has special skills that shake up the gameplay, pushing you to try new plans and pick different roles. As you play, expect random bonuses and penalties that change things up each time. Some rounds, you might fly through a level because you got lucky. Other times, expect a difficult time with double gravity and longer wait times for your skills.

You can play with up to four people in co-op mode in VLAN (Hamachi or similar) or LAN. When you start, you can pick from four character looks and unlock eight more while playing. There is lot of variety. The world changes each time you play, with six areas and mission types that change randomly. There are around a quadrillion ways the game can play out. No two runs will be the same.

There’s a guide in the game. The music and sound effects are retro and chiptune, and I made them myself. There’s some controller support, and I plan to add more. The look of the game is simple, low-res, and minimalist on purpose. I wanted it to feel like an indie game you’d find on an old USB drive: basic and charming.

And yes, there are secrets! A few hidden tricks and areas that Panormus wouldn’t want you messing with. I won’t say more. You’ll know when you find them.

If you like weird co-op platformers, random chaos, or want to play something made with love, Lowpower is free to check out. Let me know what you think. If you beat Insane mode without yelling, you’re a legend.

Also, I'm working on a skirmish tabletop game set in the Lowpower world. You got that right! The strange places of Panormus are coming to your table soon. I'll let you know, there’s more weirdness coming!

Download Lowpower for free right here: https://sites.google.com/view/alessargames/pg-games

By Alessar Games

For me, Mordheim is a tradition. I still play it a few times a year, and each time, it feels like stepping back in time. It's messy, harsh, and hilariously unbalanced, but it's one of the most enjoyable games I've ever experienced. The crazy thing is, I got into it almost by chance.

Back in university, money was scarce. I'd been into Warhammer Fantasy Battle for years, so I was familiar with the setting and loved the Old World's dark vibe. However, the large armies and constant need for units were straining my budget. Then, a couple of friends said, Hey, we found this old game where you only need a few models to play. That game? Mordheim.

Being broke students, we pieced together whatever we could get our hands on.

I grabbed an old Skaven box, used spare bits to make some heroes, and we were ready to go. That little warband became the focus of some of the most memorable campaigns I've ever played. We had pretty regular sessions for years.

Our little group was called Team Plundemordhe. It was our world.

We made stories, rivalries, and grudges that continued across campaigns. Over time, I built many warbands and got my hands on the official books, plus some crazy unofficial ones we found online.

Eventually, Mordheim gave us the idea to make our own stuff. We made a setting called Desolation (I have talked about it in other articles, it is on Broheim) and showed it off. It all began in those university years, with those Skaven and that first beat-up rulebook.

What makes Mordheim so good is that it puts fun first. Sure, some warbands in the main book are way stronger than others, and the fan-made ones can be ridiculous, but it was never about being fair. It was about the crazy moments, like watching your best fighter fall into a pit and die. Or naming a guy Gregorio the Lucky after he survived three death saves, only for him to get hit by a slingshot in the next game. Mordheim has just enough randomness, story-building, and rules to make it feel alive.

Through this game I’ve learned that you don't need tons of units and perfect rules to tell amazing stories. You just need character, and Mordheim has that in spades. It was a school for me as designer. Thanks to Mordheim I created myself new fantasy skirmish systems, like Saltwind or Chanson d'Automne.

By Alessar Games

Sometimes you find a game that's a doorway to another world. Forbidden Psalm! It's one of those rare finds. It's a tabletop game that's easy on the rules, big on imagination, and doesn't take itself too seriously, all while giving you some seriously fun and DIY-friendly action.

It comes from the same family as Mörk Borg, that dark metal RPG. And man, does that bloodline show.

Playing Forbidden Psalm is like digging up a missing, messed-up page from the back of the Mordheim rulebook, the one they ripped out for being too extreme.

It’s wild, funny, dark, and beautifully nuts, and it got me hooked in a way I didn’t expect. I've been into miniature gaming since way back with Warhammer Fantasy Battle and Mordheim. I spent years getting lost in ruined cities, fighting in beat-up alleys, and caring way too much about those no-name fighters. But I used to stick to the big names, the official stuff. Only in the last few years have I gotten into indie games, those weird, cool, and rough rulebooks made by people who clearly game because they love it, not to get rich. That’s when I tripped over Forbidden Psalm, and it hit me hard.

What grabbed me right away wasn’t just the rules, though they’re cool too, but the vibe. It's raw in a way that the fancy games just aren't. Forbidden Psalm isn’t neat and tidy. It’s rough, weird, and has bite. IT'S YELLOW! And somehow, that makes it feel more real.

The rulebook is a crazy mix of dirt and style, packed with strange art, splattered textures, and some seriously unhinged energy. But it's not random. The look, the feel, the layout, it all points to one thing: getting you into the game. This is a game that wants you to feel the grossness under your feet and the crazy creeping into your mind.

The rules themselves are tight and punchy. Nothing drags or gets bogged down in details. Instead, you get a system that's clean, quick, and leaves room for the good stuff. It’s all about the story. Models don’t just fall over and vanish; they're bleeding in the dirt, hoping they don't die at the end of the round. And that's where the game goes all-in on the storytelling. Will your fighter crawl away, half-dead but alive? Or is that body getting a name on a broken gravestone? You decide, and your table turns into a crazy theater of the dark.

Now, I will say, one rule always messed with me, and I know I'm not alone. I asked on reddit and socials and I am still boggled about it. The downed thing is cool, but a bit unclear. Can they move? Can they be healed? Are they usable or not? Are they just part of the scenery? For a simple game, it's not a deal-breaker, but you should talk it over with your friends. You can see the TTRPG coming out here. It wants you to make stuff up. But for new players, things could be a bit more clear. But that loose feel is kind of the point anyway.

Read it in this way: it's a good thing.

What makes Forbidden Psalm really special is how much it gets you to think outside the box. Writing them. The random model creation is amazing, both for modeling and for gaming. Dreaming up messed-up stuff and watching it play out in bad luck and bad calls.

At one of these games, a quick one-day event, I scribbled down a weird idea for a island-like world: a gross, windy mess full of tropical islands and snow. I called it Saltwind. It was just supposed to be a one-off event games with the Forbidden Psalm ruleset, but it turned into something bigger. I asked my followers: should I write more stuff for Forbidden Psalm, as an expansion (it has an amazing third party licence) or make Saltwind its own thing? And, well… Anyone who knows my stuff knows where that went. Brand new skirmish game, totally indipendent from anything.

I should add how easy it is to get into this game. You can play alone, with friends, or against each other, all without making the rules complicated. The game doesn’t mind if you play solo or make stuff up as you go. It wants you to. You don’t need a ton of plastic figures or perfect terrain. You can play on a dinner table, with whatever toys you have, even paper cutouts and bottle caps. Toybash! What a wonderful thing. It's super easy to get started, but there's a ton of room for stories.

Forbidden Psalm wants you to bring your own weirdness. It doesn’t care if your figures are perfect or if you know all the stats. It cares that you have a story to tell and that you’re okay with letting the dice decide the messed-up stuff. In a world where games try to control everything, this one lets you go wild. D12 systems it's just perfect for it.

If you're from Mordheim, like me, you’ll feel right at home.

If you’ve never played a game like this before, it’s a great place to start. It’s fast, fun, and full of dark energy. And if you're like me, someone who got into the indie scene late, this game might be the one that opens the door.

It’s messy, funny, dark, and awesome. Some of the best gaming I've ever had came from this game.

And that's the mark of something truly real.

By Alessar Games

Okay, so visuals in games are super important.

It's like, the first thing you see, even before you know what the game is about. That means how a game looks is tied to what it is. But not every cool game has a ton of money for art or a bunch of artists. At Alessar Games, I went with something different after abandoning AI art: old public domain art that I find and fix up.

The public domain is full of old stuff like engravings, science drawings, war stuff, old sci-fi covers, plant pictures, and old maps. These images have a feel to them because they're old. If you use them right, they give the game a vibe.

And for tabletop war games, the vibe is key.

A lot of players dig it. People have told me they like how original and cool Alessar's books look NOW. They say things like, It feels like you found it in an old box, or Finally, a game that doesn't look like everything else. If you're tired of the same old slick look, public domain art is like a breath of fresh air, it's real, with layers, and has character.

A lot of indie creators have done this before. The Call of Cthulhu RPG often uses old drawings and ads in their books. Troika! uses weird public domain art to make its world. Even big companies like Wizards of the Coast have used it for stuff like old documents or monster stories.

Public domain art has a cool, almost magical, thing about it. These images weren't made to sell anything, they were made to explain or show something. So when you put them in a game book, they don't shout Buy this! They whisper What's this all about? They make you think and wonder what's behind the image.

But, yeah, it takes work.

You can't just drop these images in. You have to find the right ones, change them, and clean them up. Sometimes I spend hours fixing up a picture from the 1800s, changing the colors, taking off notes, or adding it to something new. It's more like making a collage than just drawing something. But it's worth it: you get books that feel like cool old things, not just ads. And I discovered it's super fun!

Using public domain art fits really with what Alessar is about: being open, easy to get into, and letting people be creative. Public domain art is like a shared memory that everyone can use and make something new with.

So, if you see a weird old photo or a war picture in one of my games, now you know why. It's like a conversation from a long time ago turned into a game with dice and rules.

And I'm sticking with it!

By Alessar Games

Okay, so I've been thinking. After ages of mulling it over, and, yeah, getting pretty annoyed, I'm changing things up at Alessar Games. From now on, all the main rulebooks and art it's all gonna be from Public Domain images.

This wasn't a snap decision. It's been brewing for a while.

What really pushed me was all the negative vibes online I got, like nasty comments and just plain mean messages, whenever I showed off something with AI art. It wasn't people really thinking about the ethics of AI in art. A lot of the time, it was from those who didn't even look at the game. They just saw AI and went off.

And this is so sad since I put so much effort in my systems!

It sucked seeing people just ignore months of work on the rules, balancing, and all that, just 'cause the art wasn't what they wanted, or because it wasn't made the right way.

Look, I've been upfront about the AI art. I made sure it was labeled. I just thought it was useful for a solo guy without a ton of cash for art. And, to be fair, some players still liked it.

The games got good feedback, and people were into the systems. But that AI thing was a problem. Especially in Europe and North America, where lots of wargamers see AI art as a shortcut or, even worse, a warning sign.

So, I'm shifting gears. Not because I feel bad, but because I'd like everyone to focus on the games themselves.

I've already started updating the main images with this style, starting with logos and new unit pictures for Dark Europe, the first target of the restyle. As I put out new stuff, this will be the Alessar Games look. The old PDFs will still be around if you like them, but everything new will have this vibe.

Heads up, I'm not ditching AI completely. I'll still use it for social media stuff, brainstorming, or whatever. It's just a tool! But for the real deal game stuff, rulebooks, covers, all that, it's all handmade now. Main one, I will not change the homage games.

Let's see some real data about AI. About 20-30% of people are cool with AI art in games. 70-80% don't care or are suspicious.

Specifically, the hobbyist scene tends to hate anything that feels fake or rushed.

At the same time, most indie guys use AI somehow. They just don't talk about it. I tried to be open, and got flak for it. Tells you something, right?

So, here's what I learned: if the art stops people from playing the game, it's not doing its job, no matter how quick or cheap it is to make.

I'd rather take longer and make something honest than have good games trashed because of quick reactions to tools I wasn't misusing.

Alessar Games has always been about being real, doing it yourself, and giving players cool systems to tell their stories. This new look just fits in with that. It might not be fancy, but it's true to what I'm doing and the games I want to make.

Thanks for sticking around. For everyone who's been supporting Alessar Games, this is for you.

By Alessar Games

My introduction to miniature wargaming wasn’t through fancy resin statues or perfectly cut plastic; it was much humbler.

Back in the day, I didn’t have much money for the hobby.

I'm talking about paper figures, even misshapen clay blobs standing in for armies in Warhammer Fantasy Battle and Mordheim. We’d print out these cardstock figures, color them ourselves, and for the really monstrous units, we'd use chunks of gray modeling clay stuck with toothpicks. It wasn't pretty, but you know what? It worked!

I had these amazing campaigns, desperate last stands, and ambushes that came down to the wire, all long before I could even dream of affording real miniatures. And the thing is, what I learned during those scrappy games still rings true today: the magic isn't in the plastic, it springs from your own head.

For some reason, paper miniatures sometimes get brushed off as the cheaper, less cool version of real models. Total nonsense. If you do them right, they become their own unique style. Early wargames and RPGs used paper figures all the time. Games like GURPS, Battletech, even Car Wars included them, not as an afterthought, but as a core part of the experience. You’d unfold the map, pop out the paper units, and you were ready to roll some dice. They weren’t overloaded with details, but they had character.

You can still find artists keeping that spirit alive today, like Trash Mob Minis and Printable Heroes. They really show what you can do with strong shapes and a cool visual style. The key is not trying to make it look like plastic. Instead, play to paper’s strengths. Go for bold lines, simple shapes, and poses that tell a story. Imagine the look of Final Fantasy Tactics or Advance Wars, not a standard box art.

If the whole game table has that vibe, it all just clicks.

A full paper army can actually look incredible, especially if you build terrain that matches their style, use a smart color scheme, and add some layers to give everything visual depth. Paper even lets you mess around with things you just can’t do with plastic.

Someone drops a model? Don't worry. It's paper!

Want to show a unit’s been damaged? Just flip the figure over. Testing out a new weapon setup? Print a different version.

Need ghosts, spell effects, or some kind of shifting terrain? You can do all of that in one evening, without paint, waiting for things to dry, or the stress of ruining an expensive model.

When I first started putting Dark Europe together, everything was paper. Doodles of mechs, tokens I printed out, terrain I hacked together. And even with all that, those initial sessions were some of the most fun we’d had. Because the format let us play around! I could change stats on the spot, quickly redraw a unit, or throw together a brand-new scenario overnight. The whole design-to-play process was seamless. It was quick, adaptable, and strangely appealing. Paper lets you move as fast as your imagination.

I can honestly say some of the greatest battles I’ve ever played were between paper knights and lumps of clay pretending to be goblins, not in spite of them being made of paper and clay, but because of it!

By Alessar Games

So, in wargaming, point systems? People treat them like gold. They think it keeps things fair, gives them rules, makes sure no one gets totally destroyed when armies fight. But what if you just ditched it all?

No points, no math, just you, the models, and the story. Like the real world battles, 99% not balanced.

Sounds crazy, but some games did it and did well.

Warhammer: Age of Sigmar did this when it first came out. People freaked because there were no points. Before, players would spend forever figuring out the most powerful army in Warhammer Fantasy. Then AoS showed up and was like, Just bring whatever. It's about the story. No spreadsheets, no perfect balance, just the story you want to tell. People hated it at first. But after a while, a few people jumped in, playing for fun and the story rather than perfect armies. Like, could a group of Stormcast hold off a bunch of Skaven? It felt like a movie, not some math problem.

This idea of not needing perfect balance had been around for a bit. GW did it before with Inquisitor, where a psychic assassin could fight a whole gang. The point wasn’t fairness, it was the story. If you stop thinking about perfect matchups, you start thinking about the mission. Who’s desperate? Who’s going to die? What do you win besides just winning?

You see that in games like Rangers of Shadow Deep. No points, just cooperative missions that tell a story. Balance comes from what happens in the game, how your characters change, and how the pressure builds. You’re not trying to beat someone, you’re trying to survive, explore, and find stuff.

Then you have skirmish games. Here, imbalance is a good thing. In games like Mordheim or Morgue Stars, it makes sense that things wouldn’t be equal. Maybe one group has fewer members, or better gear, or got hurt in the last fight. The fun comes from how you deal with it, not knowing you started even. When a game lets you do that, it gets your creative juices flowing and makes for cool surprises. A tired squad making one last stand is way cooler than two equal teams just hitting each other for six turns.

But no points also means problems (kinda). You need good missions, clear goals, and players who are on board. It doesn't always work if you just want to pick up a quick game or in tournaments. But for longer campaigns or gaming groups focused on story? It can be great. You’re not trying to build the best army, you’re playing characters in a made-up world. And when other players do that too, the game turns into something amazing.

Even new games are starting to mix things up. Things like Path to Glory in AoS or Crusade in 40K still use points a bit, but go for telling a story, leveling up, and unbalanced fights. Smaller games like Forbidden Psalm or Five Parsecs go even further, with crazy scenarios that care more about the story than being fair.

So, no, games without points aren’t broken. They depend on players trusting each other, being creative, and wanting to make something awesome happen. And for some people, that’s the whole point.

By Alessar Games

Skirmish games have a certain magic to them, those small battles with just a few models where each one feels like a character with their own story. They're glimpses into whole worlds. The best world-building in these games isn't in huge info dumps, but in the small details and not in the big infodump of pages and pages of lore.

World-building through marginalia means using the little things, the throwaway details that most people miss. It's tucking lore into the edges: an item's name, a scenario's cryptic mission, or a symbol on a terrain piece.

This works great for skirmish games. Unlike big army games where gameplay is key, skirmishes are all about the feel. Just one model with a weird name like “Ashborne Memory” can spark more imagination than pages of backstory. A mission called “The Ninth Offering” makes you wonder: what about the first eight? Why are they offering anything? The game doesn't tell you, and that's the point. It gives you just enough to get you wondering, which is where you get hooked.

Lots of skirmish games get this. Mordheim, Inquisitor, Rangers of Shadow Deep, and Kill Team all use this kind of subtle storytelling. Their rulebooks aren't novels, but they're loaded with meaning. Campaign rules hint at whole cultures. Item names suggest lost tech or dark magic. Maps with spooky symbols make you want to explore a world that never shows all its cards.

This is like Dark Souls, the master of implied storytelling. That game gives you nothing upfront, just ruins, monsters, and item descriptions that sound like poetry. You dig it up. You piece things together, guessing and forming a picture that's always slightly incomplete. That makes the world feel deeper and more alive because you're not being told everything; you're finding it out.

Back in the old days, the Rogue Trader rulebook did this way before 40K was what it is today. It was wild, with random psychic mutations, weird alien groups and adventure plots that seemed more like stories than missions. The lore was all over the place, which made it fun. You weren't given a setting; you were given pieces and told to build your own. That's marginalia in action.

The cool thing is that it makes the world yours. When a game leaves gaps, it's giving you space to step in. When the rules mention a Shuddering Vault without explaining, you get to decide what's inside. When your team fights The Furnace Priest of the Ash Circle, you don't need a guide. You need imagination. And once you fill in those blanks, that story is yours, even more than any official story could be.

At Alessar Games, I like to sprinkle bits of story into the rules. Little phrases, cool names, lines tucked here and there. I don't give you the whole history... Just hints. That way, there's room for you to play. You don't get a set story, but a starting point, like seeds to grow your own world. Any mission, item, or rule can be the start of your own personal lore.

World-building through marginalia isn't easy. You need to trust your players and hold back a bit. It's about planting seeds, not giving lectures. But when it works, when the symbols and unexplained rituals start to connect, it's something else. It's storytelling that sticks with you after the game is over. And for skirmish games, where every model and every adventure counts, it might be the best thing we've got.

By Alessar Games

Narrative campaigns? They're like the ultimate goal in miniature wargaming. They turn single fights into ongoing stories where every wound has meaning, every win feels earned, and every loss changes what happens next.

But, honestly, most campaigns fall apart. Some die after a few games. Others blow up when someone gets crushed or quits. Lots just stop because things get too crazy or unbalanced.

I have managed to end only ONE campaign in 12 years. That's why I wrote this particular article...

The trick to a lasting campaign, one that’s actually fun to play, isn't just a cool setting. It's how well it's put together. You need to plan for failure, make progress at a good pace, and have rules that can bend without breaking.

The best campaigns are flexible. Games Workshop’s Path to Glory is a good example: a campaign where players build up their teams on their own, check out new areas, and go after goals without getting stuck in strict plans. The cool thing is the freedom, you can lose and still keep going, and the game world changes even if you do nothing. Crusade is kind of like this too, where your army's story in Warhammer 40,000 is tracked with special items and goals.

Even store campaigns for Age of Sigmar or Necromunda use this idea: loosely related games that connect to a shared map, letting people jump in, lose, or even restart. This is key, because a common issue is when one side gets destroyed, taking the player out of the story.

Instead, campaigns should be able to handle failure. A losing team can get back together with a new leader. A new group from the same side might show up to keep the mission going. Even enemies can keep things going – your team might die, but the world remembers.

A lot of players think these moments are better than winning. The scars, changes in who's friends and enemies, the comeback stories, these things can make future missions interesting. Classic Mordheim campaigns were great at this, using permanent injuries and crazy stat changes to make each character unique. But they also risked things getting too unbalanced, where a winning team would become too strong.

That's where smart balancing comes in. You don’t weaken leaders you just make progress harder. In Mordheim, costs and injuries slow down growth. In Crusade, scars and costs keep things tense. In custom campaigns, you can add things like bonus points for weaker teams, mission advantages, or events that target stronger players. The goal is keeping things challenging. When everyone feels like they have a chance, stories stay exciting.

To make the story even better, make the world a character too. Let player actions change the map. Let losses raise threat levels. Let groups rise and fall. The Fate of Fexor campaign from MiniWargaming did this well, changing who controlled areas between games and including past results in future missions. Winning or losing didn’t matter. What mattered was that something changed.

If your campaign can do that, if it can remember player choices and change as a result, you’re doing well. And most importantly, don't try to control everything. Campaigns work best when the story comes naturally. Use simple goals, rescue, escape, sabotage, defend, but let the players decide how and why. Don’t force a story on them. Let them mess up your plans. Let them surprise you. That’s where the good stuff happens.

In the end, the best campaigns aren’t the ones that go as planned. They’re the ones that survive chaos, change direction, and live to tell the tale!

By Alessar Games

Okay, so let's be real, Mordheim rocks. It's got that gritty feel, keeps you on edge, and you can play it forever. The fact that fans have made tons of extra groups and rules only makes it better. So, I started thinking, Why not throw our own stuff into the mix?

That's how Desolation started.

Back in college, my buddies and I were super into Mordheim. We knew the rulebook inside and out. After some years, we started using fan-made stuff like Border Town Burning and Empire in Flames. They were cool, but we still wanted something else, something a bit more raw, somewhere more unknown. 

We kept coming back to the frozen north. What if we made an add-on set in Norsca? It made sense, that crazy, chaos-filled place of ice and scary stuff hadn't been touched much and was perfect for tense situations and stories.

So Desolation became a thing: a fan-made addition to send your group into a harsh northern area with demons, walking ice, cursed spots, dead gods, and get this... SLED RACES.

We didn't just want the same old stuff. Desolation had to make the game bigger while staying true to what makes Mordheim great: long stories, weird groups, strange rules, and cool stuff that just happens.

We brought in groups like the Godborn Descendants, strange cults, and big nasty demons. Of course, we had to add the sled race.

Seriously, that's one of my favorite things. It's a crazy, funny scenario where groups ride sleds pulled by wolves (or worse), racing on ice while dodging avalanches and drunks throwing stuff. We play it every Christmas, and if you haven't tried it, you need to. It's hilarious.

Gameplay-wise, we also made some small changes to make the campaign play smoother, like the Hero Save Rule. It stops a campaign from getting wrecked because of one bad roll. It keeps the game hard but not cruel.

My favorite group? Gotta be the Demons of the Desolation. They're so weird and you can change them up so much. You can give your guys to one chaos god (Nurgle is my favorite) or mix and match if you want to. The lists are crazy both in theme and how they play, which suits the whole vibe of the set.

On the other hand, the Natives are probably my least favorite. They're good and well-made, but I like the freaky, monster, or alien groups more than the normal human ones. But hey, some players love them, and that's what matters.

Desolation is our way of saying we love Mordheim. We wanted to make it bigger and better without changing what it is. It seems like people liked it, because Broheim picked it up and it was translated to other languages. Plus, we're secretly working on another set somewhere even more out there...

We even translated it into Italian to show it off locally on Malagazzetta (a Mordheim fan magazine) and Mordheim Italia.

If you've played Mordheim and want new places, rules, and stories while keeping the tough, free-for-all feel of the original, Desolation might be what you're looking for. And seriously, play the sled race at least once. You won't regret it.

By Alessar Games

Creating functional AI for solo or cooperative miniature skirmish games can be tough but also really rewarding. The aim is to bring in a sense of tension and unpredictability to challenge players, all while keeping turns feeling smooth. The AI can’t feel dumb; players should get satisfaction from beating it!

Key principles here are simplicity, consistency, and clear threats. Players should know when danger is coming but shouldn’t be able to easily manipulate it. In Dark Europe, a game from Alessar Games, this is handled well with the use of Drones, enemies controlled by AI that follow a straightforward behavior pattern: attack → move → recover. Drones act on their own, so there’s no need for player commands. They always go after the nearest Mecha or Headquarters, focusing on the weakest targets first. This rule adds pressure, especially for weaker units, and stops players from playing it too safe. 

Drones don’t make random choices; they follow a set order which speeds up solo gameplay and makes things clearer. Their combat strategy varies by unit type: basic Drones move in to attack, while Drone Headquarters support and spawn new units, using their weapons without player control. Also, tracking Overheat and Strength (using d6 dice) adds a level of long-term strategy that keeps things manageable.

This design is similar to successful solo systems from old favorites like Rangers of Shadow Deep, where enemy behavior is based on proximity and line of sight, or Warhammer Quest, known for its behavior tables linked to random rolls. In classic games like Mordheim, AI wasn’t a big focus, but later solo variants added flowcharts or random event decks which could be chaotic. Alessar's approach refines this with a clear system that stays dynamic through targeting and positioning. Plus, it's easy to scale, adding more Drones keeps the logic the same without complicating things.

For designers, the takeaway is to build your AI like a tricky machine, not a brilliant opponent. Make it understandable, dangerous, and fast. A strong AI needs to give players a reason to take it seriously.

By Alessar Games

How games handle hit points, injuries, and all that stuff is key to making death feel real in tabletop and role-playing games. Game makers have a few tricks up their sleeves to make dying matter without ruining the fun.

One way is to layer the damage. Characters have hit points, sure, but when they take a big hit or run out of HP, they get lasting wounds that make things harder. Some games have you roll to see what happens when you hit zero HP – you might move slower, bleed out, or just die if you don't get help. Also, some people change the rules so you lose a bit of your max HP when you hit zero, like you're super tired or hurt. Other games keep temp HP separate from permanent wounds. Wounds only happen when it's a big deal, making players think twice about doing something reckless. Some games mix it up: small hits drop your HP, but a really hard hit causes a wound that slows you down. Tables for crazy stuff like losing limbs are popular in old-school games. They only pop up when you hit zero HP, and the results can be anything from a lucky escape to losing a hand. In D&D-like games, you just lose HP until you die. Staying alive is all about death saves, with not much impact on what your character does. Designers have tried adding exhaustion or skill drops when you're low on HP or fail death saves, but it gets too complicated. Better systems use pools of stuff like Resolve or Stamina that tie into how long you survive.

In miniature games, they use breakdowns. Getting hurt a few times makes you move slower, lose actions, or fail morale checks. Games use wound tracks and movement penalties. In games like Mordheim, characters get injuries that mess with skills or hurt their XP which makes death suck. Some games make HP simple but add big problems if you screw up, so being tough has a cost. Game makers keep things balanced by making failure gradual instead of instant. Small hits cause issues. Wounds mean you need to rest, and bad hits can cause panic. Big hits have effects, but so does fighting at low health, whether it's from worry or being too tired. Ways to strategically fail give players options instead of sudden death. The trick is pacing: death should feel earned, not random.

Think about wounds cost actions instead of just losing HP, to show the impact without slowing things down. If you can recover but bad stuff still happens, death becomes a resource to be used instead of just a countdown. The end result is a better, more believable experience where every hit counts, but the fight keeps going.

By Alessar Games

The choice between using a D20 or D6 dice in a game isn't just about math, it changes how the game feels. These dice systems affect chance, speed, stress, and what players decide to do.

A D20 has twenty sides, so designers can control how tough something is and how much modifiers matter. Each number is a 5% change, so it's simple to balance skills and difficulty. This detail is why games like Dungeons & Dragons use D20 rolls a lot. Getting a natural 20 or 1 for critical hits and misses makes things exciting.

D20 games are about figuring out risks and knowing what to expect. Players can guess how bonuses change their odds and plan what to do. The simple roll high system keeps things clear and fair. Without bonuses, they are more chaotic. Rolling a 1 on a D20 is very bad luck.

D6 systems, on the other hand, usually involve rolling many dice and counting how many are successes. Because rolling lots of D6s usually gives you an average result, things aren't too wild. This means less big moments, but steady process. Games like Shadowrun, Warhammer 40K, Songs of Blades and Heroes, and many small indie games use D6 pools for this reason.

You can find D6 dice everywhere. They're the most common dice and are in board games, toys. This makes them easy to get, and players can often find these at very affordable prices. But good D20 sets are more rare and cost more. This matters if you're new to gaming or don't want to pay a lot of money.

The feel of rolling is also different. Rolling a bunch of D6s looks cool, and it's easy to see what you rolled. This also lets the game have partial success and failures. D6 pools need some keeping track. Counting successes and rerolls can slow down new players. But it also adds options that experienced players like.

Picking between D20 and D6 relies on the kind of tone the designer wants. D20 systems are good for games with big wins and losses, clear critical hits, and easy risk calculation. D6 pools are good for smooth play, steady progress, and detailed results.

By Alessar Games

In the world of tabletop gaming today, it's smart to offer both a full version and a free, simpler edition of a game. Alessar Games' experience with Morgue Stars shows how this can work well, drawing from what’s long been done in video games with demos and free-to-play options that let players try before they buy.

In digital games, free demos are super important. They let players check out the game mechanics and get a sense of the experience without spending any money. This builds trust and can lead to more people buying the full version. Games like Divinity: Original Sin and XCOM 2 have used demos to grow their player base, proving that when people get a taste, they’re more likely to buy. Free-to-play games like Fortnite and League of Legends have a mix of free and paying players that converts over time, which drives their revenue.

The tabletop scene has been slower to catch on, but games like Morgue Stars show that a free edition can be a real game in itself, not just a teaser. Many tabletop demos don’t really cut it—they can leave new players feeling lost because they don’t offer a full experience. A well-made free edition gives players real decisions and clear goals, making them more likely to invest in the full game.

From a marketing angle, having both versions creates more ways to connect with players. The free edition gets people in the door and makes it easy for them to share their experiences. The full version is where the deeper content and additional features come in for those who want to dive in further. This approach is similar to freemium models in digital games, where the basics are free but the extra stuff costs cash.

One challenge with this method is keeping the community united between free and paying players. But if everyone knows what each version is about, it helps. For Morgue Stars, the free edition works well for casual players and newcomers.

Other games have tried similar strategies. In video games, the Free-to-Play model is a good example. Games like Fortnite and Genshin Impact are free to play, with optional purchases that don’t get in the way of the base experience. Similarly, many games offer free trials to give players a taste of what they can expect, like AAA titles or subscription services that act as extended trials. The Early Access model on Steam lets players pay less for partly finished games while still contributing to their development, creating a community of early fans who advocate for the game.

This idea also extends beyond gaming. Many software companies use a freemium model, where basic versions are free but advanced features require payment. Services like Dropbox offer a certain amount of free storage, while music streaming platforms give users ad-supported access to entice them into premium subscriptions. Even trial versions of complex programs help potential users see value before making a commitment.

Now, back to the gaming world! Balancing two versions of a game requires careful design. The free edition should feel like a full game without overshadowing the paid version. The full game must offer enough extras to justify its cost without feeling like it’s locking players out of content. With Morgue Stars, Alessar Games aims to keep this balance, making sure the free edition is satisfying while the full version dives deeper into the story and strategy. 

Providing both free and full versions isn’t just a marketing move. It acknowledges that players have different levels of commitment and learning curves. It breaks down barriers, builds trust, and fosters community. In a crowded market, this strategy helps games like Morgue Stars stand out and invites players to join in, no matter where they're starting from. If you're in game design, you might want to think about this approach!

By Alessar Games

There's something comfy about old-school game structure. I go, then you go. Simple. You move, shoot, done. That's the classic I Go, You Go system. It worked back in the day. Games with tons of models and rules, like old Warhammer, needed that order. But that setup has its downsides.

When you're playing a smaller game, like a skirmish with only a few models on each side, the game's flow changes. You can’t have one player doing everything while the other just watches. It's slow and just feels weird.

Alternating activations fixes that. One model moves, then the other player gets to react. It's more like a back-and-forth conversation. This small change really shakes up how the game feels.

For example Song of Blades and Heroes has you roll dice to see how much your model can do. More dice mean more actions, but if you roll badly, your turn ends right away. So, the game isn't just alternating turns – it's risky and tense. You're always deciding between playing it safe and taking a chance. Instead of just moving your models, you're betting on their luck.

Compare that to Mordheim. You move all your models, then your opponent moves all of theirs. It works and can tell a great story, mostly in a campaign. But it feels kind of stiff now. If someone is charging at you, you just have to sit and take it. Gamers today, like those in the indie scene, want something more reactive.

Games like Forbidden Psalm and Five Leagues from the Borderlands use a looser system. Usually, you roll to see who goes first each round, then players take turns moving one model at a time. This keeps things interesting. If your opponent has fewer models left than you, you start thinking about stuff like who moves in what order, bluffing, and maybe sacrificing a model. Every choice feels important.

Even Kill Team changed things up. The 2018 version tossed out the old way of doing things. Alternating activations made everything faster, more strategic, and more exciting. Smaller boards, tighter rules, quicker deaths made the skirmishes perfect. A skirmish game needs to be fast, and Kill Team finally got it.

Of course, alternating activations aren't perfect. It can feel a bit jumpy. You don't have the same control as planning a whole turn. Setting up long combos gets trickier. Who goes first each round becomes extra important. But you trade some control for more excitement. Skirmish games aren't about doing things super flawlessly. They're about cool moments.

In Saltwind, alternating activation is a key idea. Each model acts based on its own stats. Some abilities or events can change who goes when, but no one is totally in charge. It's supposed to feel like wild chaos happening around you. You act, they react, boom – something changes. The system isn't stable, but it makes for a great story.

Morgue Stars takes it further. Not only do you take turns moving one model at a time, but movement is decided by playing cards. You put down a card and move along its edge. No ruler needed. It makes movement feel rough, weird, and unreliable, like trying to move through the remains of a dead spaceship. The activation system isn't just part of the game – it *is* the game.

At Alessar Games, we use alternating activation because it fits the types of stories we want to tell. Stories with risky situations, disorganized formations, and quick losses. Where every choice is a big deal and any model could be the next to go. Real fights don't happen in perfect turns. They explode. They stumble. One model moves, the other reacts, and then someone is gone. A good skirmish game makes you feel that way.

With a well-made alternating system, you're right in the thick of it, one action at a time.

By Alessar Games

Skirmish games start small but give you lots of room to play around with stuff.

That's the deal: you don't get big battles, but you get more detail, control, story, and speed. But not all skirmish games are the same.

Whether it's a few fighters sneaking through ruins, mutants fighting over gas, or wizards battling in an alley, there's a structure to it, and we can break it down. The main pieces are how you take turns, how things are resolved, how you move, how much freedom each unit has, how the scenario is set up, and how you handle risk.

Mordheim (1999) is a classic skirmish game, even though it got a lot from Necromunda and Warhammer Fantasy Battles. It's like a fighting game disguised as a campaign: players take turns activating units, roll to hit, roll to wound, then armor, then injury. All these steps slow things down but make it feel intense. Units don't die fast. The point is to reduce damage, control tight spots, and keep your heroes alive.

Song of Blades and Heroes (Ganesha Games, 2007) simplifies things. The way you take turns involves risk: roll up to 3 dice to activate a unit, but if you fail two or more, your turn ends.

It's a cool way to control the pace. You can risk it to pull off combos, or play it safe but lose the initiative. This makes turns quick and tactical. Resolving actions is simple: roll a d6, add stats, highest wins, with different levels of success (push back, knock down, kill). It's fast but still tells a story.

Then there's Forbidden Psalm (2020), which is inspired by MÖRK BORG. It's meant to be broken and ugly. It uses d20 rolls with wild modifiers, simple movement, and harsh results. The world is dangerous, crazy, and has no morals. The skirmish is almost not important; it's just a reason to let the world destroy your models.

Forbidden Psalm isn't about balance, it's about things falling apart. Frostgrave (2015), on the other hand, is a well-organized tactical playground. Players take turns activating wizards, apprentices, then soldiers. There are spell lists, clear stats, and a focus on loot and experience. It's still a fight, but the main thing is getting resources, building your team, and surviving the campaign. It's more balanced, has a lighter tone, and is closer to classic war games. All these games put the important choices in different places. Mordheim puts it in how you resolve actions and handle injuries. Song puts it in the risk of taking turns. Forbidden Psalm puts it in crazy dice rolls and terrain. Frostgrave balances it between spells and positioning.

Alessar Games does skirmish games differently, focusing on story first and rules second. In Saltwind, units activate one at a time, but they alternate, which keeps the game tense. Dice pools are used, but they're limited and simplified. Results are interpreted for their effect, not just numbers. Wounds are tracked loosely.

Death comes fast. The world is dangerous. Scenarios drive the action more than killing other players. In Morgue Stars, turns are counter-based, but movement is measured with poker cards, not tape. Saltwind wants you to have fun with your friends and doesn't worry too much about balance.

They're made to be played fast, on simple tables, with whatever you have. The design is about making tough choices with fewer rules and faster deaths. Older games try to be realistic or give you control, while we want to keep things moving.

The point of a skirmish game is what the designer wants you to decide. Classic games like Mordheim want you to fear losing and plan ahead. Song of Blades wants you to take risks. Frostgrave wants you to find the best spot. Forbidden Psalm wants you to lose and laugh. Alessar wants you to move, react, and create a story in the chaos.

By Alessar Games

For lots of people, getting into wargaming means dealing with Games Workshop's high prices. Buying a whole army, making a terrain board, and getting the books can cost more than a car payment! But at Alessar Games, we do things differently. Our wargame, Saltwind, is made to be a cheap, weird, salt-filled.

We want it to be easy to start playing. less stuff between This game looks cool and I'm playing it, is better. You don't have to blow money on fancy terrain or minis. You don't even need new dice. Saltwind is great on a kitchen table with a tan tablecloth and some glass beads.

And tons of others think this way too. Wargaming started with making do. Before Citadel made metal orcs, people used cardboard or toy soldiers. Early Chainmail games used cheapo knights. Even Mordheim, a classic , got people building crews from scraps.

Saltwind keeps that alive.

Here are our best cheap wargaming tips from playing Saltwind. This is stuff we actually do.

Pet stores rock. Coral, bridges, plants for fish tanks are cool for islands. Saltwind is all about weird coasts and ruins. Aquarium stuff is cheap, waterproof, and looks crazy. Plus, no painting!

There’s free paper terrain online. Search it. Ruins, huts, shacks are all there, waiting. Print in black and white, color it, and it’ll look better than plastic.

You don't need those fancy dice. Saltwind uses normal dice. You likely have some in a drawer, from old board games. They work fine.

This is where you get creative. Shops and flea markets sell toys. Put them on poker chips (or cardboard) and you've got a crew. Saltwind doesn’t have to be strict. A lizardman can be a birdman. A gorilla can be a golem. It's your world.

Poker chips are good bases. They're cheap and the right size. Glue your toy on, add texture or paint, and it cost less than a buck.

Terrain doesn’t need to be 3D. Felt cutouts, yellow for sand, red for lava, green for plants, shows danger and changes movement. It’s simple and doesn’t fall over.

Glass beads from the store are good for markers. Stunned? Blue bead. Burning? Red. Shielded? Green. No need to buy anything fancy.

Don’t have a game mat? Tablecloths are fine. Tan for deserts, green for jungles. A city map from the web becomes a ruin. Saltwind is easy. The point is clear, mood, and creativity.

Cheap wargaming used to be common. HG Wells’ Little Wars (1913) used toy soldiers and books. In the ‘90s, people made Warhammer armies from scraps and putty. Terrain was cardboard and toilet paper rolls. Even games like Five Parsecs from Home use paper figures or modified toys. It’s about letting more people play.

Saltwind says this in the rules. The islands should feel made up and weird. The monsters are mismatched. The world is falling apart. Playing with broken toys and cheap dice is perfect.

We want wargaming where creativity is cool. Where a good table is made from trash. Where imagination is free.

Play more. Spend less.

Break the rules. Paint your personal end of the world in felt and glue!

By Alessar Games

When you set a miniature on the table, you step into a world governed by certain rules. We all know this, right? It doesn't matter if your setting is wild, like cyber-magic knights or frogmen with laser guns, the game relies on real measurements. Things like inches, centimeters, and distances become a big part of gameplay. How you measure movement and range shapes the game’s flow and the overall experience. A ruler holds just as much weight as the dice.

Imperial Inches: This is the classic method. Games Workshop kicked off this trend in the 1980s, and many Anglo games followed. An 8-inch move feels quick, while a 2-inch distance is pretty tight. Inches are easy for most folks to grasp, but they aren’t used globally.

Metric (cm/mm): More common in Europe and indie games, centimeters let you get detailed with measurements. Millimeters are even more precise, but can be a bit tricky in gameplay. The downside? If you’re used to feet and inches, it can be hard to adjust.

Grid-Based (Hex/Square): Games like BattleTech use a grid to simplify movement. This makes measuring easier and speeds up the game, but you lose some tactical depth. The realism of terrain interaction suffers a bit as well.

Zone-Based / Measurement-Free Systems: Some narrative games (like Rangers of Shadow Deep) skip measuring altogether. Movement is described with terms like “close” or “far.” This makes the game faster and more friendly for casual players, but it sacrifices the detailed strategy that serious players enjoy.

Custom Tools: Some games use special rulers or templates to measure. X-Wing’s curved templates are a good example. They blend precision with speed but can be costly and may not be helpful for DIY players.

The Morgue Stars Approach - Cards Instead of Rulers: In our quirky game, Morgue Stars, we decided to ditch rulers entirely. You move using the long side of a poker card, which is about 3.5 inches.

Why choose this? It keeps the game simple and portable. Your deck of cards is also your measuring tool. This means no need for separate rulers, making everything quick to set up and easy for players who don’t own measuring tools. Using cards fits with the game's theme, reflecting its makeshift, thrown-together nature, no fancy gadgets, just what’s close at hand.

This setup makes movement straightforward. You’re not checking tiny numbers; you’re judging distances visually on the fly. It speeds up turns and cuts down on arguments. 

Of course, there are limits. Fine measurements aren’t possible. If someone asks if they can shoot something 3.6 inches away, there’s no way to answer. You’re in a card’s range or you’re not. This trade-off means you sacrifice some precision for a faster, smoother game. For casual players, this isn’t a problem; for serious gamers, it might be annoying. But that’s the point, Morgue Stars isn't about perfect measurements. It’s about taking risks and living with the outcomes.

Inch-based games reward good eye and positioning. Grid games are about planning ahead. Zone games are about being flexible. And card movement in Morgue Stars? It encourages speed, randomness, and getting wrapped up in the theme.

We didn’t use cards for Morgue Stars just because it’s fun. We did it to solve a problem: how to create a game that feels like a dangerous poker game with guns and junk around. So, we made the cards do the heavy lifting, even measuring out the danger.

By Alessar Games

The look of tabletop games has always been influenced by a few key artists. People like John Blanche, Ian Miller, and Paul Bonner crafted whole worlds with their unique styles. Blanche brought a dark, gothic vibe; Miller delivered creepy, scratchy art; and Bonner mixed fantasy with a touch of whimsy. For years, old-school tabletop rulebooks have leaned on this art to tell a tale before you even get to the numbers. You really get a sense of the world from just one inked page, which is important for drawing players in.

Enter AI art. It’s fast and getting better all the time, popping up in zines, indie PDFs, and even some published games. Regardless of what traditionalists think, AI art is here to stay. The real question is how much it has already changed the game visuals. When used well, AI art can be an endless sketchbook. For small studios, it means getting things done quickly. Need a bunch of sketches for a post-apocalyptic gunslinger? No problem, you can have them by lunchtime. Want to visualize a Lovecraftian city on Mars? Just type it out and play around. It makes concept art a breeze.

But AI isn’t taking over artists' jobs; it’s just speeding things up. The actual artistry and storytelling still need a human touch. AI is best when used to help, like an extra tool instead of an easy way out. You still have to gather your images, train the AI, and sort through what it produces. The good results can take hours, while the bad stuff can come out in seconds, and you usually can tell the difference. When done right, AI-generated images can fit perfectly within rulebooks or manuals, adding elements that would have been too expensive before, like background art or decorative touches.

Now, solo designers and small studios have a whole range of visual options at their fingertips. AI art helps creators give life to their worlds, even on a tight budget. It speeds up imagination so now the only limit is creativity, not the ability to draw. This change can be both exciting and intimidating. It allows anyone with a story to start visualizing it quickly. While it might not replace classic styles, it opens the door for new artists to find their own voice fast.

That said, there are downsides. Using AI isn’t without its costs. Training models uses a lot of energy, and while making individual images doesn’t take as much, it still adds up if used frequently. It might not be as bad as shipping physical books, but it has its impact.

Studios need to be careful. Just because it’s easy to create doesn’t mean you should go overboard. There’s a risk of flooding your projects with more images than necessary, which can muddy the game’s identity. Less is often more. We believe in limits for both creativity and sustainability. Choose your best images wisely. Print what is truly important. If possible, create your own models and always give credit to your sources, whether they’re human or machine-generated.

AI art is a new direction in the industry. Like any new path, it brings along exciting possibilities and real responsibilities. It can give a voice to unknown creators, lower the visual barriers, and allow stories to be told that might not have made it otherwise. But if used carelessly, it can also weaken the worlds we create or cloud the conversation with lifeless material.

We prefer to engage with AI art thoughtfully. We use it to brainstorm, challenge ideas, and explore new visuals. But the final touches and decisions are always in our hands. Good design and taste still matter. In the end, whether done by hand or by a computer, our goal remains the same: create worlds that people can believe in.