It’s difficult to overstate how thoroughly Monster Train disoriented me. What I assumed would be a straightforward deck-builder quickly revealed itself as something stranger—less an express ride to mechanical clarity and more a plodding crawl through a baroque, three-tiered purgatory. I placed units like I was obeying some forgotten instinct from other games. The enemies, unbothered by my ignorance, politely bypassed my efforts and torched the Pyre with the casual entitlement of squatters.
The relics, meanwhile, offered boons couched in ambiguity, collecting them like outdated software updates. Each clan suggested an arcane logic beneath its aesthetic, a synergy I hadn’t yet deciphered, as though I were building a machine whose manual was printed in another language. Still, it was all strangely compelling. Monster Train is clearly dense with intent. I could feel it, like when you enter a room and sense there’s a conversation happening just outside your earshot. I don’t understand it yet. I feel as though I am a passenger on a train without a ticket and I am looking over my shoulder nervously waiting for the conductor to ask, “Tickets Please!”.
-Phil Fogg
