Gary’s Multiplayer Offline Battle Arena – A Dungeons & Dragons: Trials of Tempus Review

Trials of Tempus is such a magnetic design. It’s also a game hindered by the circumstances of its release. I saw the announcement and it took some effort to overcome the malaise associated with the Dungeons & Dragons license. It required even more work to move past my confusion on why Wizkids would release another competing skirmish game after dropping Onslaught just two months ago. Ignore the interference. ToT is a killer title.

Where Onslaught feels harmless and typical, Tempus feels sharp and thrilling. Take the pitch. Instead of the expected one-versus-one skirmish format, this new offering is a team game. Each player controls a single D&D-style hero. Ya know, your rogue, fighter, wizard, and such. Then you divide into two teams. It’s like Kickball, but instead of a soft rubber target you’re aiming for your buddy’s hard fleshy noggin. It goes all the way up to four versus four, which is surprisingly delightful.

But you’re not just trying to stab and set each other aflame. You’re trying to sneak around the board and loot chests. You’re sucking magic from ancient pillars and collecting rare herbs. You’re turning neutral kobolds to dust and spitting in the eye of a giant. You’re doing all kinds of inventive and wild business.

The characters themselves are also a treat. You build a protagonist from multiple sub-decks, choosing class specializations – like ‘thief’ and ‘divination’ – as well as one of the prescribed asymmetric characters. Each of these decisions alters the ability mix in your cards, forming a rather interesting pre-game draft where players alternate building their team based on the randomized objectives for the session. No matter how far we stray, it always comes back to playground politics and the suppressed self-esteem of being chosen last. I feel you, cleric.

Another thing I can appreciate, this game is not afraid of letting you show off. The abilities are actually significant. Most designs play it safe. Typically, the difference between a sub-class would be a nudge of a modifier. Here, there are dramatic and highly effective powers.

Let me tell you a story about my first session. We were all new to the game, doe eyed and unsure of what lie in these decks of cards. The poor little halfling wizard was the first to find out. My thief vaulted over a ruined wall and backstabbed him for massive damage. He didn’t see it coming.

These moments are all over. The first time someone gets one of their precious loot cards stolen is just hilarious and mean. Two adjectives that come up often in this game.

Speaking of loot, what a concept. There are treasure chests scattered across the map full of temptation. You can pilfer the contents and draw a magical item. Of course, these beauts aren’t boasting conservative options. How about summoning thunder with a hammer and blowing the dumb Monk apart. Or what about befriending one of the wandering monsters and having them fight for your side. Wonderful stuff.

More interesting is that each loot card is a victory point. So, what happens if you grab a whole bunch? You’re a one-person army, able to scorch beasts and toss aside foes. You’re damn scary.

But you’re also a huge standard in a game of capture the flag. If an opponent can gank your sorry bottom, then you drop all of that loot and the victory points actually transfer. It’s unsettling in its allowance for dramatic, game altering tilts.

The combat is simple but excellent. The resolution is just a straightforward D20 roll against target numbers on your card, but the circumstances surrounding the scuffle are compelling. There’s a tenuous dance of pushing beyond the mid-way point of the map and into your opponent’s backfield, which contributes to the MOBA-esque feel of Trials of Tempus. There is definite tension when you go off on your own, concerned a foe will pull out a massive string of movement or perhaps even teleport. If you go beyond your safety net, you risk slaughter and dropping any treasure you wield.

The map’s dynamic and lively nature also contributes to the MOBA-ness of this thing. Neutral foes attacking those who come within reach, various objectives to shoot for, hot spots and soft alleys to slip through. It’s all fantastic and executed skillfully.

On the whole, it feels strikingly unique. It’s not quite Guards of Atlantis or Rum and Bones. It’s not fully a skirmish design either. It boasts an untamed spirit akin to an indie game like Dark Venture: Battle of the Ancients or perhaps the old standby Wiz-War. It values creativity and drama in play.

It also feels tethered to its Dungeons & Dragons IP at times. You roll a D20 for initiative and attacks. Abilities are often named after those in the 5th edition of the RPG, and the monster and character options reflect the setting. Oddly, while I don’t find any of these features inspiring, this linkage doesn’t detract or harm the actual experience of play. There are enough unusual gameplay elements that the game’s ethos is singular and separate from the longstanding roleplaying game.

There’s really so much to adore in this design that it pains me to confront the elements which nearly kill it. My first play of this was so fascinating and wonderful that I felt like it could be my game of the year. Not merely best up to that point in time, but actually having a legitimate chance of being my favorite title of 2023 when the calendar turned.

Then we hit the closing act.

First of all, the game shifts drastically when one team hits 10 victory points. A massive monster spawns in the center of the map and tears things up. The giant for instance hurls boulders and bashes fools like little bunny foo foo. It’s a honkin mini and it’s a real threat if you get close.

The real travesty is that you don’t need to get close. This boss serves the function of end game trigger as the proceedings don’t wrap until the boss is slain. Unfortunately, that’s the only incentive to attack it. So why would you?

In the abstract, it does make sense to kill the monster if your team is winning. Seal the conclusion and walk away victors with a pint in your hand, hell yeah. But while you’re attacking this colossus over several rounds and having your brain busted like an egg beneath a rock, the opposing team is scooting around and earning more victory points. Finish the beast now and it’s like scoring an own-goal.

It’s baffling. Instead of dedicating any characters to crowd control, you should be maximizing your own scoring and ignoring the boss, as this unit of a creature offers zero reward. This is awful. I don’t know how it escaped development.

I can speculate, so let’s.

It really feels like the group of designers playtested this within a closed circle. Players behaved a certain way, attacking the final monster because, well, it’s fun. But desired behavior needs incentive. Many will never engage in such frivolous activity because it’s not actually encouraged by the framework of systems. That’s a massive problem.

What’s bizarre is that the character death mechanism functions so smoothly. There is a sense that the designers understood how to incentivizing risk and reward in terms of pursuing the objectives and player versus player conflict, so it’s truly confusing how it cold be overlooked in this important context.

I think it can be fixed. I have not noodled around with this too much as I examine games based on the rules they’re designed with, but adding a timer to the game would likely clear up the most painful aspects. Playing to 15 victory points or 12 turns for instance would alleviate the interminable third act which drags on otherwise. The game would close in roughly 90 minutes and keep to its calculated thrills. But we shouldn’t have to house rule this or alter the ruleset. It’s also unfortunate that you’re still best served ignoring the creature and taking cover, which seems counter to intent.

To a lesser extent, there is also a smidge of an issue with pace. Players, particularly those new to the game or prone to over-analysis, can really kill the momentum. Since it plays best at six or eight participants, a cohort of slow players can really cause an otherwise brisk experience to drag. It reminds me of Long Shot: The Dice Game in that someone stepping up to guide everyone and act as a GM of sorts is absolutely necessary. You need to keep people on task and focused, pointing out when it’s their turn to act in the initiative order. When the group is immersed and committed, it’s an absolutely wonderful dynamic that supports various team approaches and strategies.

There are other little things to be picky about. It takes a very long time to setup and put away. The play surface should have been a standard folding board instead of a pile of tiles you have to assemble and then be careful not to bump during the game. There are also far too many tokens of all sorts. It also has an enormous footprint.

Yet, if I can extricate the failure of the climax and ignore that unsightly blemish, then I can readily say that I adore this game. I’ve glossed by details such as upgrading the cards in your deck every time you re-shuffle, or that this game has one of the best event decks in the history of the mechanism. The calling card of absolutely wild and ludicrous happenings is extended here, with choice cuts such as characters randomly teleporting around the map, elite monsters appearing, and an entirely new victory condition possibly entering play. It’s absurd. And I love it. Mostly.

 

A review copy of the game was provided by the publisher.

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