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5 Minute Movie Guy (379 KP) rated Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019) in Movies
Sep 16, 2019
In the early 1980s, author Alvin Schwartz created a book of short horror stories titled Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark that would go on to terrorize a whole generation of curious young readers. Combined with its morbid and ghastly illustrations by artist Stephen Gammell, the book would serve as an introduction to horror for many. Over the next ten years, Schwartz wrote two more books in the Scary Stories series, and now, nearly forty years later, it has finally been adapted into a major motion picture. Produced by Academy Award-winning director Guillermo Del Toro and directed by André Øvredal, the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark film constructs a new narrative around several of the iconic short stories from the book series, and brings them to life to haunt the movie’s teenage characters.
In Mill Valley, Pennsylvania in 1968, a group of teenage friends fleeing from a band of bullies hide out in an abandoned haunted house on Halloween night. They know the story of this house well, whose folklore is rooted in the origins of their own small town. It was once owned by the wealthy Bellows Family, who according to urban legend, locked away their own daughter, Sarah Bellows, inside the cellar of their home. Sarah had been accused of killing the town’s children, and so her family kept her hidden away and attempted to erase her from existence, even removing her from their own family portraits. According to legend, Sarah wrote a book of horror stories and would read them aloud through the walls of her room to frighten the local townspeople.
While inside this haunted house, our group of protagonists; Stella (Zoe Colletti), Ramón (Michael Garza), Auggie (Gabriel Rush), and Chuck (Austin Zajur), discover the room Sarah had spent her life trapped in. Stella, an amateur horror writer herself, finds the rumored book that was written by Sarah. Upon opening it she sees that a new page is somehow being written in blood right before her very eyes, and it happens to be about the bully that chased them into the house. The next day, they realize that it seems as though the story actually came true, and that the book itself may be haunted. This establishes the basic premise of the film, in which new stories are being written in the book and they appear to be targeting Stella and everyone else that entered the Bellows’ house that night.
It’s an interesting set-up that cleverly mixes horror with mystery, as the characters are not only trying to survive these stories as they come to life, but are also trying to figure out how to stop them from happening. The film features five different stories from the series, most of which come from the third and final book, and a sixth story centered around Stella and Sarah Bellows that is at least in part inspired by one of the original tales. To give an example without giving too much away, one story for instance, involves a haunted scarecrow, whereas another is about a walking corpse in search of its severed big toe. The stories themselves are much more dark and grotesque than I had anticipated. I was expecting something more along the lines of Goosebumps, which was a series of children’s horror books that I personally loved and grew up with as a child, but these are much more disturbing than that. While I only found the first story of the film, “Harold”, to actually be scary, I do imagine this movie might be a little too frightening for some teenagers.
I should clarify that I’m not familiar with the original written source material of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and I had truthfully never even heard of the books prior to the movie’s announcement. I don’t have any personal stake in these stories, but I do admire the thoughtfulness and creativity that went into building the film around them. I thought the film started out really strong with a likable cast of characters, and with most of its best moments featured early on. I loved the introduction to the haunted house and the legend of the Bellows Family. I enjoyed the playful nature of our group of young protagonists, who in the beginning felt reminiscent of the fun and crazy kids you might find in an 80s movie like The Goonies. Additionally, I liked the mystery of Sarah Bellows that the kids were trying to uncover, all the while struggling to survive the dangers of her haunting stories that had come to life.
Unfortunately, as the movie went on, I found myself less and less invested in it with each passing story, all of which I would argue are weaker than the previous one before it. The Pale Lady storyline was particularly dull and underwhelming. The final act itself, although smartly designed with its use of parallels, wound up feeling poorly executed and unsatisfying overall.
Similarly, in regards to the acting, I liked the performances even less by the end as well. Early on I had been impressed with Zoe Colletti as Stella, but I found her to be annoying in the later parts of the movie. The same goes for Austin Zajur as Chuck. The cast for the most part was decent, but everything about the movie began to drop in quality as it dragged on, which is especially unfortunate given how well it starts out.
The special effects are mostly quite good and adequately disturbing, but on the same token, I wish they were more clearly visible at times. A lot of the horror settings take place in dark rooms, so at times it can be hard to see the monsters with much clarity. Still, I love the design of Harold the Scarecrow, as well as The Jangly Man, who is played by contortionist Troy James whose extreme flexibility allows the character to move in unnatural and disturbing looking ways.
To conclude, I’m left with some mixed feelings on Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. For me, it almost hits the mark, but unfortunately it isn’t a movie that I think I’d bother to watch again. It made a solid first impression with its rich atmosphere and creepy first act, but it failed to maintain its momentum and level of quality. In the end, my favorite thing about the whole movie is actually the excellent cover song of “Season of the Witch” by Lana Del Rey that plays during the credits. However that’s not in any way to say the movie is so bad that the credits were my favorite part. It’s just a great song by an artist I very much enjoy. If you grew up with the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series, then by all means, I recommend that you at least check it out. If you like horror and have any troublesome teenaged kids, this may be a perfect opportunity to have some fun scaring the heck out of them.
In Mill Valley, Pennsylvania in 1968, a group of teenage friends fleeing from a band of bullies hide out in an abandoned haunted house on Halloween night. They know the story of this house well, whose folklore is rooted in the origins of their own small town. It was once owned by the wealthy Bellows Family, who according to urban legend, locked away their own daughter, Sarah Bellows, inside the cellar of their home. Sarah had been accused of killing the town’s children, and so her family kept her hidden away and attempted to erase her from existence, even removing her from their own family portraits. According to legend, Sarah wrote a book of horror stories and would read them aloud through the walls of her room to frighten the local townspeople.
While inside this haunted house, our group of protagonists; Stella (Zoe Colletti), Ramón (Michael Garza), Auggie (Gabriel Rush), and Chuck (Austin Zajur), discover the room Sarah had spent her life trapped in. Stella, an amateur horror writer herself, finds the rumored book that was written by Sarah. Upon opening it she sees that a new page is somehow being written in blood right before her very eyes, and it happens to be about the bully that chased them into the house. The next day, they realize that it seems as though the story actually came true, and that the book itself may be haunted. This establishes the basic premise of the film, in which new stories are being written in the book and they appear to be targeting Stella and everyone else that entered the Bellows’ house that night.
It’s an interesting set-up that cleverly mixes horror with mystery, as the characters are not only trying to survive these stories as they come to life, but are also trying to figure out how to stop them from happening. The film features five different stories from the series, most of which come from the third and final book, and a sixth story centered around Stella and Sarah Bellows that is at least in part inspired by one of the original tales. To give an example without giving too much away, one story for instance, involves a haunted scarecrow, whereas another is about a walking corpse in search of its severed big toe. The stories themselves are much more dark and grotesque than I had anticipated. I was expecting something more along the lines of Goosebumps, which was a series of children’s horror books that I personally loved and grew up with as a child, but these are much more disturbing than that. While I only found the first story of the film, “Harold”, to actually be scary, I do imagine this movie might be a little too frightening for some teenagers.
I should clarify that I’m not familiar with the original written source material of Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, and I had truthfully never even heard of the books prior to the movie’s announcement. I don’t have any personal stake in these stories, but I do admire the thoughtfulness and creativity that went into building the film around them. I thought the film started out really strong with a likable cast of characters, and with most of its best moments featured early on. I loved the introduction to the haunted house and the legend of the Bellows Family. I enjoyed the playful nature of our group of young protagonists, who in the beginning felt reminiscent of the fun and crazy kids you might find in an 80s movie like The Goonies. Additionally, I liked the mystery of Sarah Bellows that the kids were trying to uncover, all the while struggling to survive the dangers of her haunting stories that had come to life.
Unfortunately, as the movie went on, I found myself less and less invested in it with each passing story, all of which I would argue are weaker than the previous one before it. The Pale Lady storyline was particularly dull and underwhelming. The final act itself, although smartly designed with its use of parallels, wound up feeling poorly executed and unsatisfying overall.
Similarly, in regards to the acting, I liked the performances even less by the end as well. Early on I had been impressed with Zoe Colletti as Stella, but I found her to be annoying in the later parts of the movie. The same goes for Austin Zajur as Chuck. The cast for the most part was decent, but everything about the movie began to drop in quality as it dragged on, which is especially unfortunate given how well it starts out.
The special effects are mostly quite good and adequately disturbing, but on the same token, I wish they were more clearly visible at times. A lot of the horror settings take place in dark rooms, so at times it can be hard to see the monsters with much clarity. Still, I love the design of Harold the Scarecrow, as well as The Jangly Man, who is played by contortionist Troy James whose extreme flexibility allows the character to move in unnatural and disturbing looking ways.
To conclude, I’m left with some mixed feelings on Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. For me, it almost hits the mark, but unfortunately it isn’t a movie that I think I’d bother to watch again. It made a solid first impression with its rich atmosphere and creepy first act, but it failed to maintain its momentum and level of quality. In the end, my favorite thing about the whole movie is actually the excellent cover song of “Season of the Witch” by Lana Del Rey that plays during the credits. However that’s not in any way to say the movie is so bad that the credits were my favorite part. It’s just a great song by an artist I very much enjoy. If you grew up with the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series, then by all means, I recommend that you at least check it out. If you like horror and have any troublesome teenaged kids, this may be a perfect opportunity to have some fun scaring the heck out of them.
Chris Sawin (602 KP) rated Midsommar (2019) in Movies
Jun 26, 2019 (Updated Jul 4, 2019)
When a director like Ari Aster only has two full-length features under his belt, it’s difficult not to compare his works but the truth of the matter is that Hereditary and Midsommar are two incredibly different films. Hereditary seemed to thrive on lurking in the shadows visually to assist in its dark storytelling. Nearly all of Midsommar takes place under blinding sunlight making the horrific events that unfold feel stranger and even more out of place, confusing, and bizarrely unsettling. Based on his two films though, Aster does seem to flock towards a few common themes. Grief, loss, and the inability to cope have plagued the main characters of his films while the importance of family takes a high precedence. Hereditary was more about a specific family attempting to stay together while already being in shambles and Midsommar attempts to create a new family on more than one occasion with the possibility of constant expansion.
Dani’s (Florence Pugh) life is turned inside out once a devastating tragedy leaves her dumbstruck. She leans on her boyfriend of four years, Christian (Jack Reynor), for support, but their relationship is obviously strained. Along with their friends Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter), Dani and Christian end up going on vacation to rural Sweden. They travel to a small village where their friend Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) grew up and now serves as their host. A rare nine-day festival that only occurs once every 90 years is being celebrated. Josh is utilizing the trip as a means to bulk up his folklore thesis for college while Mark is more interested in partaking in the Swedish women. Christian is attempting to figure out what his thesis will be while Dani searches for some sort of guidance after such a tragic occurrence. Their trip becomes increasingly more peculiar the longer they stay as they’re forced to witness violent rituals and are encouraged to embrace the ways of a Pagan cult.
The intricate illustrations throughout the film like in the opening shot, the elongated love potion cloth, or the walls of the barn-like structure Dani and her friends sleep in, give Midsommar this dark fairy tale aspect to it that a film like Pan’s Labyrinth would be proud of. The Pagan roots of Pelle’s village and the film’s metaphorical feet being so firmly planted in such rich folklore give Midsommar this cautiously fanciful aesthetic. The film capitalizes on the nostalgic sensation of when fairy tales and children’s books were read to you as a child. There are consistent signs that things aren’t right, paranoia lurks around every corner, and the locals set off every ominous alarm in your body, but there’s that naïve part of us buried deep down that wishes for and hopes for a happy ending because cosmetically we believe that is what resides at the end of every fairy tale not written by Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm (The Brothers Grimm).
It’s also interesting observing the main and supporting characters of the film or basically all of the “outsider” guests of the festival. Pelle acts as a conduit/guide between his village and the outside world, Josh is a historian/researcher, Mark is a mocker/fool, Dani and Christian are a strained couple, and Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe) are a flourishing one. According to Wikipedia, Ari Aster based Dani and Christian’s relationship on a bad breakup. Midsommar is also way funnier than it has any right to be; something Hereditary completely distanced itself from. Midsommar goes out of its way to boast about who Dani’s real family is in the film. The unified chanting, outrageous theatrics, and harmonized moaning may seem like mockery or complete insanity to some. While it is humorous at times, it seems like this is the way the locals can experience everything everyone else does as a cohesive unit. This seems relevant to emotions, hallucinogens, and even sustenance; this cult does everything together.
Midsommar isn’t going to sit right with a lot of people, especially since Ari Aster desired to be confusing when it came to making the film. With all of the drug-taking in the film being so common, Midsommar may leave you feeling as groggy and disoriented as the characters on screen. However, in between the sacrifices, the brutality, the graphic nature of the film, inbred oracles, and plethora of naked mature women moaning in unison there’s something unique and brilliant about Midsommar you can’t find elsewhere. It may draw parallels to films like Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man and may feel like a bleaker version of The Wizard of Oz on a bad acid trip, but Midsommar is unlike any other film you’ll see this year. In a way, Dani and her friends all get exactly what they came for but the end outcome is that the majority of them bit off more than they could chew. Truth be told, you’ll never look at a bear in a film the same way again even if it does remind you of the Tanooki suit Mario wore in Super Mario Bros 3. This is the type of film where you could literally tell someone everything that happens and it wouldn’t really spoil the film for them. The context of these events is important to witness in succession and in their entirety since what each individual takes away from the film will likely differ person to person.
There’s a deliberate pacing of the film many will find too slow and uneventful as the film’s two and a half hour runtime will already feel daunting. Aster has teased that the original cut of the film was three hours and 45 minutes and he has a version of the film that is 25 minutes longer that was difficult to cut down to the theatrical cut currently in theaters. An extended cut of the film or a large amount of deleted scenes on the Blu-ray (how about that levitation sequence from the trailer?) would certainly be intriguing.
If you enjoy ambiguous filmmaking where everything isn’t explained and the film’s imagery can mean more than one specific thing, then Midsommar may be worth checking out. It is an outlandish experiment by Ari Aster that a large quantity will likely deem a failure. Personally speaking though, Midsommar is such an unconventionally different ceremonial fever dream loaded with preposterousness, beautiful cinematography, hilarity, and anxiety-fueled-dread that it’s not only memorable and bold but also the type of one-of-a-kind film experience I crave whenever the lights dim and the quiet hum of a projector accelerates into a dull yet soothing roar.
Dani’s (Florence Pugh) life is turned inside out once a devastating tragedy leaves her dumbstruck. She leans on her boyfriend of four years, Christian (Jack Reynor), for support, but their relationship is obviously strained. Along with their friends Josh (William Jackson Harper) and Mark (Will Poulter), Dani and Christian end up going on vacation to rural Sweden. They travel to a small village where their friend Pelle (Vilhelm Blomgren) grew up and now serves as their host. A rare nine-day festival that only occurs once every 90 years is being celebrated. Josh is utilizing the trip as a means to bulk up his folklore thesis for college while Mark is more interested in partaking in the Swedish women. Christian is attempting to figure out what his thesis will be while Dani searches for some sort of guidance after such a tragic occurrence. Their trip becomes increasingly more peculiar the longer they stay as they’re forced to witness violent rituals and are encouraged to embrace the ways of a Pagan cult.
The intricate illustrations throughout the film like in the opening shot, the elongated love potion cloth, or the walls of the barn-like structure Dani and her friends sleep in, give Midsommar this dark fairy tale aspect to it that a film like Pan’s Labyrinth would be proud of. The Pagan roots of Pelle’s village and the film’s metaphorical feet being so firmly planted in such rich folklore give Midsommar this cautiously fanciful aesthetic. The film capitalizes on the nostalgic sensation of when fairy tales and children’s books were read to you as a child. There are consistent signs that things aren’t right, paranoia lurks around every corner, and the locals set off every ominous alarm in your body, but there’s that naïve part of us buried deep down that wishes for and hopes for a happy ending because cosmetically we believe that is what resides at the end of every fairy tale not written by Jakob and Wilhelm Grimm (The Brothers Grimm).
It’s also interesting observing the main and supporting characters of the film or basically all of the “outsider” guests of the festival. Pelle acts as a conduit/guide between his village and the outside world, Josh is a historian/researcher, Mark is a mocker/fool, Dani and Christian are a strained couple, and Connie (Ellora Torchia) and Simon (Archie Madekwe) are a flourishing one. According to Wikipedia, Ari Aster based Dani and Christian’s relationship on a bad breakup. Midsommar is also way funnier than it has any right to be; something Hereditary completely distanced itself from. Midsommar goes out of its way to boast about who Dani’s real family is in the film. The unified chanting, outrageous theatrics, and harmonized moaning may seem like mockery or complete insanity to some. While it is humorous at times, it seems like this is the way the locals can experience everything everyone else does as a cohesive unit. This seems relevant to emotions, hallucinogens, and even sustenance; this cult does everything together.
Midsommar isn’t going to sit right with a lot of people, especially since Ari Aster desired to be confusing when it came to making the film. With all of the drug-taking in the film being so common, Midsommar may leave you feeling as groggy and disoriented as the characters on screen. However, in between the sacrifices, the brutality, the graphic nature of the film, inbred oracles, and plethora of naked mature women moaning in unison there’s something unique and brilliant about Midsommar you can’t find elsewhere. It may draw parallels to films like Robin Hardy’s The Wicker Man and may feel like a bleaker version of The Wizard of Oz on a bad acid trip, but Midsommar is unlike any other film you’ll see this year. In a way, Dani and her friends all get exactly what they came for but the end outcome is that the majority of them bit off more than they could chew. Truth be told, you’ll never look at a bear in a film the same way again even if it does remind you of the Tanooki suit Mario wore in Super Mario Bros 3. This is the type of film where you could literally tell someone everything that happens and it wouldn’t really spoil the film for them. The context of these events is important to witness in succession and in their entirety since what each individual takes away from the film will likely differ person to person.
There’s a deliberate pacing of the film many will find too slow and uneventful as the film’s two and a half hour runtime will already feel daunting. Aster has teased that the original cut of the film was three hours and 45 minutes and he has a version of the film that is 25 minutes longer that was difficult to cut down to the theatrical cut currently in theaters. An extended cut of the film or a large amount of deleted scenes on the Blu-ray (how about that levitation sequence from the trailer?) would certainly be intriguing.
If you enjoy ambiguous filmmaking where everything isn’t explained and the film’s imagery can mean more than one specific thing, then Midsommar may be worth checking out. It is an outlandish experiment by Ari Aster that a large quantity will likely deem a failure. Personally speaking though, Midsommar is such an unconventionally different ceremonial fever dream loaded with preposterousness, beautiful cinematography, hilarity, and anxiety-fueled-dread that it’s not only memorable and bold but also the type of one-of-a-kind film experience I crave whenever the lights dim and the quiet hum of a projector accelerates into a dull yet soothing roar.
Purple Phoenix Games (2266 KP) rated Illumination in Tabletop Games
Oct 5, 2021
Ancient Medieval books. We all love ’em, right? Full of bright beautiful pictures of angels fighting demons, knights fighting dragons, dogs fighting squirrels(?), and monks fighting armed bunnies?? Hey, what’s going on here? Okay, I have played enough Alf Seegert games to know that everything comes with a hint of quirk, but now I need to pore through my non-existent collection of old tomes to find instances of monks warding off sword-brandishing rabbits. Ohhhhh, maybe this is about children’s books! Man, times were weird back in the day.
Illumination is a game about two monks who are tasked with illuminating the pages of manuscripts with drawings in the hopes of becoming the next head of the Scriptorium: The Scriptmaster, one might say. However, one of the monks gets a little itch and begins to draw irreverent subjects, like demons, dragons, and such. Which monk will earn the made-up-by-me title of Scriptmaster? Guess you will have to play to find out.
DISCLAIMER: We were provided a copy of this game for the purposes of this review. This is a retail copy of the game, so what you see in these photos is exactly what would be received in your box. I do not intend to cover every single rule included in the rulebook, but will describe the overall game flow and major rule set so that our readers may get a sense of how the game plays. For more in depth rules, you may purchase a copy online or from your FLGS. -T
As with many games that are well endowed with components, setup can be a bit of a task. The game will be focused around a few main areas. First, the three manuscript pages are placed on the table in any orientation, with the purple wild Drollery tiles placed on one text box on each page. The Monastery mat is placed nearby as well, with the Abbot pawn randomly placed on a blank station. This pawn will be moved around the map during play to determine which rituals may be performed at any one time. Each player will have their own player mat, upon which will be placed their starting gold (1 for the Reverent player and 5 for the Irreverent player), as well as their starting nine Illumination tiles. The rules mention separating all the Illumination tiles into stacks of three, choosing three of these stacks to flip over and place on the play mat without altering the order. This is very important to keep the tiles in their randomized order. The remainder of the tiles are to be placed nearby in stacks of three. Each player is dealt one starting Scriptorium card and a random Crusade card that will offer bonuses at the end of the game. Once all setup, the game may begin with the Reverent player’s turn.
On a turn, the active player will choose from their mat one row or column of three tiles to be played. They take the three tiles and place them upon one of the three book pages on the table, in the margins. From there the player can choose any tile from the margin to place onto the page in any order they wish, upon any quill icon they choose (except for coin tiles – those simply grant two coins immediately). If the tile is placed on a quill of a matching color to that of the tile, the player will immediately collect one coin and place it on the player mat. If the tile is placed on a quill and orthogonally touches a tile of the matching color, the player then collects a Ritual token of the same color. These Ritual tokens are used in sets of three, four, or five in order to earn VP for end of game scoring. Each purple Drollery tile is wild for the purpose of placement and Ritual token collection. Each tile placed will collect its earnings immediately, and any coins earned may be spent immediately as well.
A player may use coins for several purposes throughout the game: move a tile from the margin of one book to the margin of a different book, move the Abbot one space along the track for Ritual purposes, or to draw a Scriptorium card. The other resources are Ritual tokens, and may be spent during the turn as well. In order to spend these, the Abbot must be on the matching location on the Monastery board, and the player may spend three, four, or five matching tokens to perform the Ritual. They discard the tokens, place one of their cubes upon the appropriate icon on the Monastery mat for VP at game end.
At any time during the turn Scriptorium cards may be played. These are very special cards that allow the player to complete certain actions that break the normal rules. This could be a free movement of the Abbot, or switching places of two tiles on the player mat, or even banishing one of the opponent’s tiles to another book entirely.
Why mention the battles in the intro if they are not part of the game? They are. Once opposing foes are placed orthogonally from each other, and all involved tiles are completely enclosed by other tiles or board obstacles, a Bounded Battle will begin. Battles are simple to resolve as it requires players to count the number of combatants on both sides and whichever side has more forces wins the battle. The winner places their cube on the appropriate battle card near the Monastery mat, and the loser gains coins equal to the number of their tiles lost to battle. Tiles that are lost are simply flipped to its opposite side.
Play continues in this fashion of players choosing and placing tiles, drawing and using Scriptorium cards, performing Rituals, and resolving Bounded Battles until both players pass their turn. The game is then over and VP counted in all their places around the play area. The player with the most points becomes the next Scriptmaster Flex and is able to enhance or defile as many manuscripts as they like!
Components. This game has a lot of components, but they are mostly cardboard tiles, cardstock cards and mats, and wooden cubes. The quality is all very fine, as to be expected with Eagle-Gryphon games. The art, for me, is the biggest drawback of the game. I UNDERSTAND why it looks the way it does – in trying to stick with a Medieval manuscript theme some decision were made on the style. It just doesn’t vibe with me. I took a look at the new edition of The Road to Canterbury, by the same designer and publisher, and loved the look of it. I REALIZE that the tiles are supposed to be not only reminiscent of the art style of that time period, but also imaginations of monks and their doodles, but it’s just not for me. I do like the looks of everything else except the art on the tiles, and when that’s the majority of the components I am looking at, I sigh a little. I am absolutely no artist, and I can acknowledge that the art presented is very good and in line with the theme. Oh well.
The game play is very solid, and I do like it quite a bit. Everything makes a lot of sense as to why you are doing the actions, and the most difficult thing to comprehend the first time through is the Bounded Battles. You see, battles don’t immediately happen when you pit one foe against another. In fact, all tiles engaged need to be surrounded by other tiles or battleground obstacles before battle can begin. This allows both sides to add more tiles to help sway the balance of power, and can get a little confusing for some players. Not ME, of course, but SOME players (ok it was totally me the first time through). I am thankful that resolving the battles are pretty simple, and winning battles gives the victor a cool five points.
Other aspects I really enjoy are the Scriptorium cards and the Rituals. Again, the Scriptorium cards can be drawn for two coins during the game and can provide excellent rule-breaking choices to the players. Any time a game has cards that bend the rules, I generally am a fan. The Rituals are merely tokens that are collected and then turned in for points. This doesn’t necessarily sound that interesting until I reveal that a player board only has space for seven items: Ritual tokens AND coins included. So a player may be stacking up coins, and not have space for Ritual tokens or vice versa. Hard choices need to be made sometimes, but to help with that Ritual tokens can also be used like a coin, but not the other way around. So there is no buying Ritual tokens. Having that restriction of seven items on hand is a really nice touch, and makes each turn important.
So all in all I enjoyed my plays of Illumination. I have yet to try the solo version that is included, but I will soon. I feel that of the two Medieval series games I have played I prefer The Road to Canterbury, but I do like the different feel of Illumination. Having a solo mode is also very attractive to me because my wife and I do not always have matching schedules where we can game together. I like Illumination for the actual gameplay, but the art is a turn-off for me. Purple Phoenix Games gives this one an irreverent 4 / 6. If you are looking for something a little different that features some interesting game play, tons of choices, yet is restrictive as well, take a look at Illumination. Try not to complete too many wine and candle rituals though. Those two things don’t mix very well in my experience.
Illumination is a game about two monks who are tasked with illuminating the pages of manuscripts with drawings in the hopes of becoming the next head of the Scriptorium: The Scriptmaster, one might say. However, one of the monks gets a little itch and begins to draw irreverent subjects, like demons, dragons, and such. Which monk will earn the made-up-by-me title of Scriptmaster? Guess you will have to play to find out.
DISCLAIMER: We were provided a copy of this game for the purposes of this review. This is a retail copy of the game, so what you see in these photos is exactly what would be received in your box. I do not intend to cover every single rule included in the rulebook, but will describe the overall game flow and major rule set so that our readers may get a sense of how the game plays. For more in depth rules, you may purchase a copy online or from your FLGS. -T
As with many games that are well endowed with components, setup can be a bit of a task. The game will be focused around a few main areas. First, the three manuscript pages are placed on the table in any orientation, with the purple wild Drollery tiles placed on one text box on each page. The Monastery mat is placed nearby as well, with the Abbot pawn randomly placed on a blank station. This pawn will be moved around the map during play to determine which rituals may be performed at any one time. Each player will have their own player mat, upon which will be placed their starting gold (1 for the Reverent player and 5 for the Irreverent player), as well as their starting nine Illumination tiles. The rules mention separating all the Illumination tiles into stacks of three, choosing three of these stacks to flip over and place on the play mat without altering the order. This is very important to keep the tiles in their randomized order. The remainder of the tiles are to be placed nearby in stacks of three. Each player is dealt one starting Scriptorium card and a random Crusade card that will offer bonuses at the end of the game. Once all setup, the game may begin with the Reverent player’s turn.
On a turn, the active player will choose from their mat one row or column of three tiles to be played. They take the three tiles and place them upon one of the three book pages on the table, in the margins. From there the player can choose any tile from the margin to place onto the page in any order they wish, upon any quill icon they choose (except for coin tiles – those simply grant two coins immediately). If the tile is placed on a quill of a matching color to that of the tile, the player will immediately collect one coin and place it on the player mat. If the tile is placed on a quill and orthogonally touches a tile of the matching color, the player then collects a Ritual token of the same color. These Ritual tokens are used in sets of three, four, or five in order to earn VP for end of game scoring. Each purple Drollery tile is wild for the purpose of placement and Ritual token collection. Each tile placed will collect its earnings immediately, and any coins earned may be spent immediately as well.
A player may use coins for several purposes throughout the game: move a tile from the margin of one book to the margin of a different book, move the Abbot one space along the track for Ritual purposes, or to draw a Scriptorium card. The other resources are Ritual tokens, and may be spent during the turn as well. In order to spend these, the Abbot must be on the matching location on the Monastery board, and the player may spend three, four, or five matching tokens to perform the Ritual. They discard the tokens, place one of their cubes upon the appropriate icon on the Monastery mat for VP at game end.
At any time during the turn Scriptorium cards may be played. These are very special cards that allow the player to complete certain actions that break the normal rules. This could be a free movement of the Abbot, or switching places of two tiles on the player mat, or even banishing one of the opponent’s tiles to another book entirely.
Why mention the battles in the intro if they are not part of the game? They are. Once opposing foes are placed orthogonally from each other, and all involved tiles are completely enclosed by other tiles or board obstacles, a Bounded Battle will begin. Battles are simple to resolve as it requires players to count the number of combatants on both sides and whichever side has more forces wins the battle. The winner places their cube on the appropriate battle card near the Monastery mat, and the loser gains coins equal to the number of their tiles lost to battle. Tiles that are lost are simply flipped to its opposite side.
Play continues in this fashion of players choosing and placing tiles, drawing and using Scriptorium cards, performing Rituals, and resolving Bounded Battles until both players pass their turn. The game is then over and VP counted in all their places around the play area. The player with the most points becomes the next Scriptmaster Flex and is able to enhance or defile as many manuscripts as they like!
Components. This game has a lot of components, but they are mostly cardboard tiles, cardstock cards and mats, and wooden cubes. The quality is all very fine, as to be expected with Eagle-Gryphon games. The art, for me, is the biggest drawback of the game. I UNDERSTAND why it looks the way it does – in trying to stick with a Medieval manuscript theme some decision were made on the style. It just doesn’t vibe with me. I took a look at the new edition of The Road to Canterbury, by the same designer and publisher, and loved the look of it. I REALIZE that the tiles are supposed to be not only reminiscent of the art style of that time period, but also imaginations of monks and their doodles, but it’s just not for me. I do like the looks of everything else except the art on the tiles, and when that’s the majority of the components I am looking at, I sigh a little. I am absolutely no artist, and I can acknowledge that the art presented is very good and in line with the theme. Oh well.
The game play is very solid, and I do like it quite a bit. Everything makes a lot of sense as to why you are doing the actions, and the most difficult thing to comprehend the first time through is the Bounded Battles. You see, battles don’t immediately happen when you pit one foe against another. In fact, all tiles engaged need to be surrounded by other tiles or battleground obstacles before battle can begin. This allows both sides to add more tiles to help sway the balance of power, and can get a little confusing for some players. Not ME, of course, but SOME players (ok it was totally me the first time through). I am thankful that resolving the battles are pretty simple, and winning battles gives the victor a cool five points.
Other aspects I really enjoy are the Scriptorium cards and the Rituals. Again, the Scriptorium cards can be drawn for two coins during the game and can provide excellent rule-breaking choices to the players. Any time a game has cards that bend the rules, I generally am a fan. The Rituals are merely tokens that are collected and then turned in for points. This doesn’t necessarily sound that interesting until I reveal that a player board only has space for seven items: Ritual tokens AND coins included. So a player may be stacking up coins, and not have space for Ritual tokens or vice versa. Hard choices need to be made sometimes, but to help with that Ritual tokens can also be used like a coin, but not the other way around. So there is no buying Ritual tokens. Having that restriction of seven items on hand is a really nice touch, and makes each turn important.
So all in all I enjoyed my plays of Illumination. I have yet to try the solo version that is included, but I will soon. I feel that of the two Medieval series games I have played I prefer The Road to Canterbury, but I do like the different feel of Illumination. Having a solo mode is also very attractive to me because my wife and I do not always have matching schedules where we can game together. I like Illumination for the actual gameplay, but the art is a turn-off for me. Purple Phoenix Games gives this one an irreverent 4 / 6. If you are looking for something a little different that features some interesting game play, tons of choices, yet is restrictive as well, take a look at Illumination. Try not to complete too many wine and candle rituals though. Those two things don’t mix very well in my experience.
