Nostalgia can be a dangerous thing; the temptation to own something synonymous with your youth can be enormous—this is precisely where HeroQuest comes in, stage left.
Full disclosure here—I never owned HeroQuest, but that ‘not owning’ bit bugged the hell out of me. Of course, nowadays, it’s easy enough to dip a toe into the second-hand market and purchase a copy from eBay, but finding one that hasn’t been battered to death by years of use is a quest in itself.
I once managed to get my hands on a copy of Dark Future that cost a kidney and my first-born, only to find it filled with broken cars and missing weapons. So, imagine my delight in 2021, when it was announced that HeroQuest was digging itself out of its nostalgic grave—in search of fresh meat to feed upon. Yes, it was inevitable I was going to order it, and, as expected I still paid waaaaay too much for the core game and all the expansions (because I need all the expansions regardless if I’m actually ever going to use them)—but to me, it was worth it just to scratch a nostalgic itch that has been bothering me since 1989.
I guess it’s a good time to introduce the test subjects for this thick slice of gaming nostalgia. My eldest, Zack, is a chip off the old block, a board game ‘junkie’ who enjoys playing just about everything from Nemesis to Gloomhaven and Unmatched to Root. He’s used to complicated games with rules that make your brain hurt and enough dice and counters to make a kleptomaniac leap with joy. While my youngest, Neve, is just like my wife, she only enjoys games that are quick and easy to follow, nothing too heavy; for them it’s all about the fun-factor—which is exactly what HeroQuest is, or at least I hope.
Before we venture a little deeper into this much-loved dungeon romp, I would ask you to spare a moment of thought to my poor wife, who has endured my board game obsession for many years now—and whose heart must fill with dread every time a delivery driver with an oversized Kickstarter box turns up on our doorstep. But, as I say to her with a fixed Cheshire cat-like grin on my face, these games will only increase in value; not that I’m ever planning on selling them while I still draw breath.
However, if I were to shuffle off this mortal coil it would leave my precious games at the mercy of my wife’s eBay account. Fortunately, that’s where my children come in. If I can stir those same warm feelings in them that I had playing these games as a youngster, then I know my collection will be (relatively) safe.
I was still at work when the sizable HeroQuest box turned up on our doorstep unannounced. Quite honestly, I was expecting a barrage of text messages from Zack pleading if he could open up the box, and perhaps one from my wife telling me she was going to kill me and pack my cold corpse inside it when I got home. Fortunately, all I received from her was a photo message with the words ‘THIS arrived.” Impressively, Zack contained his excitement long enough for us to unbox it together. As expected, Neve was nonplussed—board games frequently enter this house, and unless it’s a Friends themed game, then it’s not going to rank highly on her barometer of interest.
Within a few minutes of stepping though the front door, I was immediately accosted by Zack and frogmarched towards the still-sealed box sat in the front room. As I carefully sliced open the package, Zack’s immediate reaction was one of utter joy; his eyes lit up at the sheer number of tile sheets, dice, monsters, doors, chests, and furniture—it was a delight to behold.
His second reaction was one of concern as he stared at my rapidly reddening face and trembling hands as I struggled to remove a single figure from a plastic tray that refused to yield without a fight. It felt like every figure was a skill check that needed a natural ‘20’ to pass without breaking something. We decided to leave it until Sunday when my wife would be away and we could unbox everything properly and commandeer the dining room table.
