I’m going to tell you about that particular instant when you realise you’ve gotten under its skin somewhere near three sessions into a good campaign game; you are no longer just sitting at a board — you are immersed in a world, you’ve developed attachments to the characters and you’re genuinely concerned about what will happen next week at your next meeting. That is the magic I’ve pursued since Sarah and I experienced our first legitimate campaign approximately five years ago.
We thought we knew what board games were. You sit down, you play for a couple hours, someone wins, you put it away and it goes back on the shelf. But campaign games? Campaign games are an entirely different animal. They are like having a television series you’re actively participating in where your choices really impact the story and the story evolves based on what you decide. It’s storytelling through gameplay in the most pure form I have ever experienced.
It all started when our buddy Marcus came over with Gloomhaven. I had heard of it before — that large box that supposedly contained hundreds of hours of gameplay — and I thought it was probably just hype. And then we opened that box and I swear my designer brain nearly exploded. The sheer amount of content in that box was mind-bogglingly great. Hundreds of cards, dozens of miniatures, stacks of map tiles thicker than a phone book, and this huge scenario book that felt like a novel.
That first session hooked us completely. We were not just moving pieces around on a board — we were mercenaries in this dark, morally grey world, making decisions that would impact future sessions. When my Brute received his first scar from a particularly brutal battle with some Living Bones, that was not just a game mechanic — that was a story moment. That character I was developing session by session had changed due to what we had collectively experienced.
Isaac Childres created something close to the holy grail of campaign games with Gloomhaven, and after experiencing most of the game with my group, I know why. The character development feels earned — you’re not getting stronger arbitrarily; you’re growing based on the challenges you’ve overcome and the decisions you’ve made. My Mindthief became an entirely different character than I initially intended her to be due to the story requiring adaptability. That is good design supporting theme.
But the thing that really captured my imagination about campaign games is the way they create common narratives among players. We still reference the time Sarah’s Scoundrel gave herself up to save a load of innocent civilians and we failed the mission. In any other game, that would have been a bad choice. In Gloomhaven, that was character growth. That was story. That was precisely the type of moment that makes all of the prep time and rule complexity worth it.
Following Gloomhaven, we were craving more of these long-form experiences. That’s when we discovered Pandemic Legacy, which did something I didn’t believe was possible — it made deck-building feel thematic. Matt Leacock and Rob Daviau created a fantastic legacy model where your choices in each session of gameplay would permanently change the game. The first time we had to mark a ‘Destroyed’ sticker on a city (I think it was Istanbul), Sarah literally gasped. That city was gone forever. The weight of our failure would continue to stare at us from the board for the remainder of our campaign.
I was blown away by the way the branching storyline in Pandemic Legacy allowed each group’s campaign to feel unique. The decisions we made in early missions impacted what dangers we encountered later, what allies we could call upon, even what parts of the city we could protect. By the end of our campaign, we’d created our own story for Gravehold’s world, influenced by our successes and failures during dozens of sessions of collaborative decision-making.
If you’re looking for pure fantasy adventure, there is nothing that compares to Descent: Journeys in the Dark. Kevin Wilson designed this amazing fusion of tactical combat and narrative storytelling that meets every fantasy crawl itch I have. One player acts as the Overlord, controlling monsters and traps, while the remaining players act as heroes attempting to complete their objectives. It’s an asymmetrical game in the best sense, creating this dynamic tension between the game itself and the players.
Our Descent campaign lasted for almost six months, with my Runemaster Widow Tarha becoming this iconic legend in our group’s collective lore. Widow Tarha began as a simple spell caster but evolved into a force that could clear entire rooms of monsters using the correct combinations of abilities. The modular board ensured that each session felt like exploring a new dungeon, but the overarching narrative tied the entire experience together. When we finally battled the final boss, it felt like the climax of an epic fantasy novel we’d written together.
What sets Descent apart from other games is the balance of mechanical complexity and thematic immersion. Yes, there are a ton of rules and edge cases, but they all serve to support the fantasy of being heroic adventurers embarking on an epic quest. When the Overlord triggers a trap or summons reinforcements at the right time, it doesn’t feel like random game mechanics — it feels like good storytelling.
Aeon’s End: Legacy is another example of how a game can make deck-building feel thematic. Kevin Riley created a system where you are a breach mage defending the last human stronghold against these cosmic terrors known as the Nameless. As you progress through the campaign, you are not simply acquiring better cards for your deck; you are learning new spells, finding ancient relics, and discovering the history of your world.
When one of the Nameless breached our defenses and started attacking Gravehold directly for the first time, the panic at our table was very real. Losing this battle was not simply losing a game — it was failing to safeguard the lives of the people relying on us. The weight of being humanity’s last line of defense coupled with the strategic depth of the deck-building creates a perfect storm of both mechanical and thematic immersion.
What impressed me most about Aeon’s End: Legacy is the way the branching storyline in the campaign creates a unique experience for each group. The decisions you made in early scenarios affect the threats you face in later scenarios, the allies you can call upon, even the areas of the city you can protect. By the end of our campaign, we had created our own version of Gravehold’s story, shaped by the success and failure we experienced throughout dozens of sessions of collaborative decision-making.
And then there is Kingdom Death: Monster. Adam Poots created something that feels less like a board game than an interactive nightmare that uses dice and miniatures to create the experience. This is campaign gaming at its darkest and most punishing. You are survivors in this nightmarish world, trying to establish a settlement while facing off against monsters that can potentially destroy your entire population if you make the wrong decision.
To be honest, Kingdom Death is not for everyone. It is a dark game, it is a punishing game, and when one of your characters dies, they stay dead. However, that is what makes it such a compelling campaign experience. Every decision you make impacts the world in meaningful ways. When we lost our top fighter to a random event in the third session of our campaign, the grief around the table was very real. This character we’d poured our hearts into creating was just gone, and we needed to figure out how to keep going without him.
The artificial intelligence driven monster behavior ensures that every encounter is unpredictable in a way that feels thematic rather than random. The White Lion fight is a different experience from the Phoenix fight — not just mechanically, but narratively. Each monster has its own personality expressed through gameplay.
All of the campaign games mentioned above create persistent worlds between sessions. While we’re not playing Gloomhaven, I often think about what equipment my character should have for the upcoming scenario. Sarah still talks about our Pandemic Legacy campaign when we’re playing other cooperative games. These experiences don’t end when you store the components — they stick with you and influence how you engage in future games.
As I stated earlier, the time commitment required is significant — dozens of hours spread out over several months or possibly even years. However, that is not a flaw — that is a strength. These games repay your time investment with more meaningful character development and more impactful narrative experiences than any single-session game can offer. They help create a shared history with your gaming group that becomes part of your friendships.
Setting up Kingdom Death takes about twenty minutes to set-up. It took us three sessions to learn all the rules of Gloomhaven. Using spreadsheets to track the progression of characters in Descent is a task that would impress my accountant. However, none of that feels like drudgery when you’re invested in the story and characters — it feels like preparing for the next installment of an adventure you are sharing with your fellow gamers.
I have friends who believe that campaign games are too much of a commitment, too complex for casual entertainment. I agree that they are not casual games — they are not games you pull out for a light evening. However, for those of us who wish for our games to be immersive experiences rather than simply puzzles to be solved, campaign games deliver something that no other type of gaming experience can match. They are the ultimate form of interactive storytelling that evolves over time based on the decisions and investments of the players.
The boxes taking up way too much space in our game closet is a problem. We cannot play as many different types of games as we would like due to the time commitment. Sometimes the rules complexities lead to disputes about edge cases that detract from the experience. However, when a campaign game clicks — when you are invested in the world and characters and the story — there is nothing quite like it in board gaming.
Meeple Power is all about celebrating the joy of board games—great stories, clever mechanics, and big laughs around the table. We cover everything from easy-to-learn gateway games to deep strategic epics, shining a light on the creativity, community, and occasional chaos that make tabletop gaming so much fun. Whether you’re rolling dice, flipping cards, or arguing house rules with friends, we’re here to keep the game night spirit alive.