Dungeon Derby

Dungeon Derby took me on the familiar journey from “cheap nonsense, this might get a laugh” to “excellent, I have bought another dud”, then somehow emerged as far funnier than the box had any right to suggest. Two days after the first game, I was still laughing about moments from it. It needs the right crowd, mind: nobody is here to prove a point. They are here to see who can make the most ridiculous thing happen at precisely the right time.

At heart, it is an odd splice of Winner's Circle, Cheaty Mages, and a generous dose of ameritrash let’s-see-what-happens. The game revolves around betting and the progress of a race, while somebody else may roll the die on your behalf; your job is to watch, comment, and work out what disaster is approaching.

Then come the traps, the interference, and the chance to become the nuisance at the table. One game ran for an hour and a half of teasing, laughter, and trap-setting, ending with one player calling it “wasted hours of my life” after spending the entire session enthusiastically winding everyone up. That is exactly what this game does: it gives you licence to torment your friends and enjoy it. Who needs a quiet table?

A couple of house rules might give it a little more strategic backbone, but that is not really the point. For a group with a healthy case of rockitis, Dungeon Derby is a noisy, slightly silly, and remarkably reliable excuse to laugh, provided nobody makes the unfortunate decision to take it seriously.

Updated session

Later plays confirmed the first impression rather than changing it: with the right group, the game delivers maximum noise, even for spectators, and the racket is part of the experience. It did not win everyone over — one player remained distinctly grumpy, despite joining in with the chaos — but the table kept finding laughs in the traps and the betting mayhem.