You know what made me realise the difference in Santorini? It wasn’t studying the strategy guides or watching YouTube tutorials; it was getting totally crushed by my buddy Marcus in what I thought was going to be a relaxed game night back in 2019. I’d selected Apollo since I thought it looked cool and you could swap positions, like it was some sort of divine teleportation magic. Marcus went with Athena and I spent the next 20 minutes watching him kill off every single attempt I had to vertically climb while I frantically moved my builders around like I was a madman trying to play a game of confused chess. At the end of the match he just smiled and said, “God selection is half of the game dude.” And that’s when I realised I was doing everything wrong about Santorini.
I’ve always been attracted to games that allow the theme to drive strategy — but Santorini is this odd combination of abstract strategy and mythology in a very real way that affects how the game plays out. The god powers are not just thematically flavored — they completely change the way the game works. After losing to Marcus badly in that game night, I began focusing much more seriously on power selection and to be honest? Power selection has become my favorite part of the game.
Through about 200+ games now (my wife says I’m crazy and maybe she’s right), I’ve figured out through trial and error that selecting gods is not about choosing the “best” power — it’s about creating asymmetric circumstances that you’re able to navigate better than your opponent. It’s like choosing your battleground before the battle starts.
One of the biggest mistakes I see players make, especially early in the learning curve for the game, is what I refer to as “Power Fantasy Selection”. Players select gods that look cool or seem strong without taking into account whether they’ll be able to effectively implement the associated strategy. About a month ago, I saw my neighbour’s 15-year-old son pick Prometheus (he gets an extra build but has to use it before moving) because it seemed ridiculously strong. Building an extra action is a good thing right? But he spent the rest of the game struggling with the odd timing and getting himself in trouble building himself into corners because he hadn’t gotten a feel for the rhythm of the game. Meanwhile, his father was playing plain old Artemis (just two moves per turn and steadily gaining board control).
That’s when I developed my personal rule — match the complexity of your chosen god to your comfort level with the game. I often tell new players to start with gods like Apollo or Demeter in their first handful of games — not because these powers are bad or weak — but because they require minimal mental readjustments in terms of how Santorini operates.
I recall a game night with six players rotating through Santorini matches — ranging from my friend Derek (who has probably played 500+ games) to my wife’s co-worker Jessica (whom had never played the game before). Derek consistently selected unique gods such as Chronos and Bia — while Jessica selected Pan. By the end of the night, Jessica had won two out of three games because Pan’s “win by jumping down” condition continued to blindside players with more experience with other strategies. Simple and unexpected often trumps elaborate and predictable.
As much as many underestimate it, player count significantly impacts the way you approach god selection. Two-player Santorini is this highly competitive chess-like duel where the goal is to counter your opponent’s specific strategy directly. Add a third player to the mix? Suddenly, you want powers that can affect multiple opponents or create overall effects that favour you more than the other players.
My preferred three-player power has come to be Hera — who prevents perimeter wins. In two-player games, Hera feels restrictive and defensive. But with three players, she causes all the players to cluster towards the centre of the board, making positioning that much more important. As I tend to be better at managing clustered board states than the majority of the group, Hera creates a scenario that benefits my strengths.
From a purely thematic standpoint, there’s a psychological aspect to god selection that’s extremely intriguing. Certain powers just mess with people’s minds in ways that extend far beyond their mechanical implications. Eros — win if your builders are adjacent to one another — may not be much mechanically different from the standard win condition of being on top of a stack — but I’ve seen experienced players mentally and physically adjust their positioning to avoid adjacency with Eros, forgetting entirely their usual defensive posture.
At a convention tournament last year, I played against a really solid player who had clearly studied Santorini extensively. I selected Eros and you could see him calculating adjacency risks with every move. He was so concerned with preventing my alternate win condition via adjacency that he virtually ceded control of the board to me for a traditional victory. What’s humorous about that is I never even came close to winning via adjacency — his concern over my god’s power created the opportunity for me to win via the traditional means.
Experience level matchup create these unusual strategic opportunities if you take advantage of them. When I am playing against new players of the game, I occasionally select gods with unconventional win conditions, such as Pan or Eros. Not because I’m looking to cheat wins — but because these powers force newer players to think about defensive concepts they are still unfamiliar with. It is almost educational — they learn faster when they are forced to consider multiple potential threats.
However, when I’m playing against seasoned opponents, I transition to gods that are mechanically subtle but offer rich strategic options. For example, Hermes (which allows the player to move before and after building) appears to be a straightforward power but offers the possibility of positioning and maneuvering that only develops through extensive gameplay experience. Similar to Hermes, Hestia (builds twice, but only if neither build is on the edge of the board) provides a similarly subtle but spatially complex puzzle that rewards experience.
The development of the geographic nature of a game has a greater impact than most people appreciate. Movement-based powers, such as Artemis or Hermes, are more effective when the board is open and there is room to maneuver. However, powers that manipulate builder positions — such as Apollo’s swapping or Minotaur’s push — become dramatically stronger when the board is crowded. I try to determine if a game will develop into a densely-packed cluster or an open, expansive board based on my opponent’s tendencies and select powers appropriately.
Derek introduced me to a tactic he called “synergy prediction,” which appears to be complex but is relatively easy to grasp. Rather than attempting to directly counter your opponent’s god, you select powers that thrive in the type of game their god naturally produces. If a player selects Atlas (can domo at any level), they’re likely to play defensively and domo aggressively. Therefore, you might choose Demeter (can build twice), since double-building dominates defensive play styles.
I employed this tactic in my rematch against Marcus — yeah, I was definitely seeking revenge for that earlier beating. He selected Athena again, clearly believing I would continue to struggle with her movement limitations. However, rather than directly opposing Athena, I selected Hephaestus (can build twice in the same space). Athena produces slower-paced and more deliberate games — and Hephaestus thrives in the exact type of game environment that presents an opportunity to build towers deliberately. The vertical constraints imposed by Athena actually worked in my favour by slowing the pace of the game.
What’s also interesting is how various powers interact with the physical pieces and board state in ways that aren’t immediately apparent until you have played a significant amount of the game. With Zeus, he can build under himself, which doesn’t appear to be a particularly impressive ability — however, once you realise it provides Zeus with an escape route that’s nearly impossible to completely block, you begin to understand why it’s so desirable. In games that emphasize control of the board, the ability to break free from being trapped is a significant advantage.
The Golden Fleece expansion introduces a new factor to the game in that there is now a neutral power that both players can capture. Suddenly, you are no longer simply comparing your power to your opponent’s — you are considering which god will provide you with the best access to this neutral power that can dramatically alter the board state.
I have begun to view god selection as a form of deck-building. Not simply “what power do I want”, but “what kind of game do I want to create?” and “how will my power selection create the strategic landscape that we will be competing within?” Some gods produce aggressive, tactical games — others create passive, positional games. A couple of gods generate chaotic, unpredictable games that favour adaptability over planning.
Ultimately, what I enjoy most about Santorini is the fact that the powers create a distinct game environment for each match. The base rules of the game remain the same — move, build, win by reaching level three — but the powers create enough mechanical diversity that I never grow tired of it. It’s as though I have 50 different games in one box, each with its own set of tactical challenges and thematic flair.
In a similar manner to how the theme affects the mechanics in many games, the theme in Santorini reinforces the mechanical aspects of the game in ways that I did not initially anticipate when I first became familiar with the game. These are not simply abstract mechanical advantages — they are divine powers with personalities and mythological gravitas. When I play as Ares, I feel more aggressive and direct — Demeter makes me think about cultivating and patience — the thematic aspects of the game reinforce the mechanical aspects of the game in ways that make my strategic decisions feel more meaningful and memorable.
Next time you are sitting at the table looking at the god cards, don’t simply select the one that looks the strongest or coolest — think about the story you want to tell — the type of strategic challenge you want to create — and how well you can implement that specific divine strategy. Because in Santorini, the gods do not simply grant you powers — they provide you with the tools to create the exact type of epic confrontation you desire.
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.