Arcs: When Cole Wehrle transforms humiliation into ludic revelation

The story of a masterful slap

It was 10:30 PM on a Wednesday night when I put away the Arcs box with a feeling I hadn't experienced in years: absolute humility in the face of a board game. Me, who plays Pax Pamir, who tackled Root and isn't afraid to take on challenging games, I had just been taught a masterful lesson by an opponent. The difference? He had already played the game before. I had charged in headfirst with my veteran space gamer confidence.

That evening marked the beginning of a complicated relationship with Cole Wehrle's latest creation. Arcs made me rediscover that forgotten sensation: feeling completely overwhelmed by a game I thought I could dissect in fifteen minutes. Fifteen days later, after additional games, I can finally discuss it with the necessary perspective. And spoiler alert: this initial humiliation is an integral part of the game's genius.

The expertise trap: or how I applied eclipse to Arcs

My first fatal error

When I opened the Arcs box, my neurons immediately made the connection: space game, area control, ship construction. My brain classified everything in the "Eclipse-like" category and I applied my galactic strategist reflexes. First monumental error.

In Eclipse, you define your strategy at the beginning of the game and stick to it. That's exactly what I tried to do. I evaluated the board, identified key systems, and told myself: "Perfect, I'm going to control these fuel planets to develop a mobile fleet." Solid plan, logical execution, assured victory. Well, that's what I thought.

The problem with Arcs is that this strategic logic becomes your worst enemy. Where Eclipse allows you to execute your long-term vision, Arcs forces you to adapt your actions to your hand of cards every turn. This fundamental difference escaped me for three entire chapters, roughly an hour of growing frustration.

The killer example: my beautiful space position

Let me tell you about the precise moment when I understood the magnitude of my foolishness. Chapter 2, I had achieved what I thought was a magnificent play: I had built starports in three key systems, deployed a respectable fleet, and visibly controlled the strategic zones of the board. In my "Eclipse-style" player mind, I was in a position of strength to take action. In Arcs reality, I was digging my own grave.

My mistake? I had never declared an ambition. Too busy building my "beautiful position," I watched my opponents declare their objectives and score points while I fine-tuned my space deployment. The cruel irony is that when I finally realized I needed to take action, the chapter was over. My opponent had pocketed his points by adapting his objectives to the opportunities of the moment, while I was playing galactic Legos.

This sequence perfectly illustrates the difference between strategy and tactics. In Arcs, any long-term planning becomes not only useless but counterproductive.

The Wehrle revelation: cccepting controlled chaos

The trick-taking that changes everything

Once my pride recovered from this initial drubbing, I began to understand what Cole Wehrle had really created. Arcs isn't a traditional space game in disguise; it's a mechanical revolution hidden under familiar space illustrations. The modified trick-taking system where no one wins the trick and where there are multiple ways to win the chapter completely transforms the game's philosophy.

In a classic trick-taking game, you play your hand to win tricks. In Arcs, you play your hand to trigger actions, but these actions depend entirely on what the leading player does. This constant interdependence creates a tension I had never felt in a space game.

Concretely, you can have the most beautiful military card in hand, but if the active player plays commerce, your options suddenly become very limited. Unless you regain the initiative (and thus become the new active player), you'll only be able to execute one action instead of the multiple actions your card could have offered you.

The closed economy that throws everything off

Wehrle's other stroke of genius is the game's closed economy! Indeed, the author is already an advocate of this with Pax Pamir. There are only five tokens of each resource in the entire game. Five! When you come from Eclipse where resources can multiply infinitely, this constraint seems anecdotal. Until you realize that three of the five victory conditions depend on these same resources because they're essential to win an ambition...

This artificial scarcity creates constant psychological pressure. You accumulate fuel for the ambition! Perfect, but each token you keep is a token your opponents can't use for their own ambitions. This underground economic war adds a tactical dimension that infinite resource games can't reproduce.

It took me three games to understand that spending your resources at the right moment for bonus actions during the prelude phase could be more profitable than hoarding them for a hypothetical future ambition. This lesson cost me two victories, but it revolutionized my understanding of the game.

The learning curve from hell

Why Arcs divides the community so much

Since its release, Arcs has been the subject of passionate debate in the community. As the Punchboard review notes, some denounce "random chaos spawned from an uncontrollable card deal" while others see "fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants tactical skirmishing." This polarization isn't accidental; it reveals two irreconcilable philosophies of board gaming.

Arcs detractors come mainly from the planner camp. These are players who find their pleasure in elaborating complex strategies and executing them methodically. For them, a game that constantly sabotages their plans is pure frustration. I understand them perfectly: I almost joined their ranks after my first catastrophic game.

The game's defenders, conversely, are players who embrace uncertainty as a driver of pleasure. They accept that any long-term strategy is almost useless and find their satisfaction in frenzied adaptation and astute tactical play. These players see Arcs as a breath of fresh air in a hobby that's sometimes too predictable.

Beginner mistakes to absolutely avoid

After six games and numerous discussions with other players, I've identified the classic traps that turn Arcs discovery into an ordeal:

The planning error: Wanting to establish a global strategy from the beginning of the game. Arcs will punish you mercilessly for this approach. Better to evaluate your options turn by turn based on your hand.

The temporizing error: Waiting to be "ready" to declare an ambition. In Arcs, you must strike when opportunity presents itself, not when your position seems optimal. I lost my first game exactly for this reason.

The specialization error: Focusing on a single path to victory. Arcs' beauty lies in the ability to pivot between different ambitions according to cards and opportunities. This flexibility is learned, but it can't be improvised.

The "rushing ahead" error: As Cole Wehrle explicitly recommends in the manual, "DO NOT add asymmetric modules for your very first game." This Leaders & Lore expansion radically transforms the game's balance. Learning with asymmetries from the first game is equivalent to learning to drive directly on the highway.

The ambition mechanic: Arcs' beating heart

When declaring becomes an art

The ambition system constitutes Arcs' most brilliant innovation. Unlike traditional games where "you define your strategy from the beginning," in Arcs "how you score points is a blank canvas" at the start of each chapter. This approach completely reverses the usual logic of space conquest games.

In Twilight Imperium, you know from the beginning which public objectives you must accomplish. In Eclipse, you develop your strategy based on available technology tiles. In Arcs, you discover how to win by observing the game state and everyone's resources, then you declare the ambition where you have the best chance of winning.

This mechanic transforms each ambition declaration into a moment of pure tension. As the review perfectly explains: "The moment you declare, you paint a huge target on your back. Everyone knows what you're after, and you'd better believe they're going to try to stop you."

I experienced this pressure viscerally during my fourth game. I was in a strong position for the Keeper ambition (Court control), but I hesitated to declare it because I knew my opponents could still catch up. This hesitation cost me the victory: another player declared a different ambition and won the chapter while I hesitated.

The art of perfect timing

The hardest lesson to learn in Arcs is that timing trumps position. You can completely dominate a resource category, but if you declare the corresponding ambition too early, your opponents will have time to catch up. If you declare it too late, someone else may have already scored points elsewhere.

This temporal tension creates dramatic moments that few games manage to reproduce. I've witnessed absolutely mind-blowing reversals of fortune, where a player who was far behind suddenly won a chapter by declaring an unexpected ambition at the perfect moment.

Cole Wehrle and the art of destabilization

Root's legacy in space

Knowing Cole Wehrle's work helps enormously in understanding Arcs. If you've never played one of his games and have been exclusively trained by European-style games, it can be a disorienting experience. His games all share this philosophy of permanent interaction and constant adaptation.

Root had already taught me to accept radical asymmetry and apparently unbalanced situations. Pax Pamir had taught me the art of alliance reversal and political reading. Arcs combines these lessons by transposing them into a spatial context where card mechanics replace human diplomacy.

This lineage becomes evident when you observe community reactions. Players who loved Root and Pax Pamir generally fall under Arcs' spell, while those who were put off by these games find the same amplified frustrations.

The philosophy of "jump in the water, you'll learn to swim"

Wehrle's games have this approach where neither holds you by the hand to coddle you. Arcs forgives no tactical error, no hesitation, no misreading of the situation.

This requirement may seem cruel, but it serves a precise pedagogical objective. Wehrle forces his players to develop new gaming reflexes, to step out of their mechanical comfort zone. His games are designed to be learned through repetition, to be played multiple times until you understand what makes them tick.

I felt this progression very concretely. My first game was a complete wreck. The second, I understood some basic mechanics. It wasn't until the third that I began to grasp the tactical subtleties. And it wasn't until the fifth that I finally managed to adapt my playing style to the system's requirements.

The verdict of a transformed player

My acknowledged criticisms

Let's be honest: Arcs isn't perfect. Its biggest flaw lies in its quasi-vertical learning curve. As even its defenders admit, the first few games will be chaotic and unpredictable. This barrier to entry de facto excludes a significant portion of the gaming public.

The game also suffers from a disparity problem between experienced players and novices. The skill gap can create frustrating games for beginners, who find themselves eliminated without understanding why. This experience asymmetry requires careful management of gaming groups.

Finally, card dependence can sometimes create situations where a player finds themselves systematically disadvantaged by an inappropriate hand. Even if mitigation mechanics exist, they require advanced mastery to be used effectively.

Why I recommend it anyway

Despite these flaws, Arcs deserves its place in any expert game enthusiast's collection. It represents excellent value for money with enormous replayability, very short setup and teardown times, and a box no bigger than Root's or even smaller. But it's not its value proposition that convinces me; it's its ability to push the genre's boundaries.

Cole Wehrle has created something unique: a space game that functions like a card game, a strategy game that prioritizes tactics, a conquest game that rewards adaptation rather than planning. This inversion of established codes is enough to justify Arcs' existence.

More personally, this game reminded me why I fell in love with board games many years ago: this ability to surprise me, to question my certainties, to make me grow as a player. In a hobby that's sometimes too predictable, Arcs arrives like a salutary shock.

Who should I recommend it to?

Arcs is aimed at experienced players seeking renewal, those who are bored with overly structured mechanics in recent games. If you love strong gaming sensations, if you accept losing to learn, if you're looking for a game that forces you to rethink your habits, then Arcs awaits you.

On the other hand, flee this game if you hate uncertainty, if you seek absolute control over your actions, if you want to be able to plan your victory from the first turn. Arcs won't forgive this approach.

One last crucial recommendation: don't stop at your first frustration. Give it at least three games before making a final judgment. It's a game that requires investment, but with enormous replayability. If you like this type of game, you'll get your money's worth.

My rating: 8.5/10

The Pros:

• Remarkable mechanical innovation

• Renewal of the space genre

• Exceptional replayability

• Quality material

• Reasonable game duration (90-120 min)

• Permanent tension

The Cons:

• Brutal learning curve

• Significant gap between novices and experts

• Can frustrate planners

• Sometimes cruel card dependence

Arcs leaves no one indifferent. You either love it or hate it, but you can't ignore it. For me, who thought I had exhausted space games, this masterful slap from Cole Wehrle arrives at the perfect moment. A necessary game, even if it's not always comfortable.

And you, are you ready to question your gaming certainties?

Arcs - Cole Wehrle - Leder Games - 20242-4 players - 12 years and up - 90-120 minutesPrice observed: €45-50

Article written after 6 complete games over a 3-week period