Paranoia: The Uncooperative Board Game

I have very fond memories of the Paranoia RPG, from those student-day sessions where clones had a life expectancy measured in minutes and “traitor! zapzapzap!” was practically everyday language. That is why I bought this board game half-heartedly: the setting seemed difficult to transfer to a board, Modiphius’s recent track record did not inspire much confidence, and the lack of online material was a proper red flag.

At its core, this is a unserious game of mutual annihilation. Players betray, kill, and sabotage one another with a take-that attitude that reaches Cutthroat Kingdoms levels. The interaction is not polite, nor does it pretend to be: the table can very quickly become a sequence of “who gets to ruin whom first.”

And its rules of chaos are not especially interested in balance. You can visit a dispenser, happen to get a mini nuclear bomb, and wipe out half the map, simply because that is what the game decided. The first two or three deaths are essentially the entry ticket; if the group does not get put off there, a twisted kind of strategy starts to emerge from the mess. Some of its absurd incidents even reminded me of Combat Commander, since its central mechanism has a similar feel.

Ten years ago, I would probably have written rapturous praise for it and used it as an excuse to take shots at every eurogamer who wants everything neatly ordered. Today I see it more calmly: I played it happily, and I would play it again under the right circumstances, at a Dungeon Derby-style event or on a trip with the appropriately immature group. For someone unfamiliar with the setting, though, I fear the joke will wear thin quickly—especially if they spend twenty minutes being slaughtered without getting a chance to play.