Why I No Longer Rush Through Board Games
If you love board games, there’s a good chance you have a growing collection—and probably a stack of games you haven’t even played yet. Games you bought with excitement, good intentions, and the thought: We’ll get to that one soon.
That growing backlog can quietly create a sense of pressure. A feeling that you need to get games played. To rush them to the table. To check them off a mental checklist just so you can say, “Yep, we’ve played that one.”
I used to play this way.
And one of the things I care most about now is helping people get more enjoyment—more meaning—out of their board game experiences. Because games can be more than just something we finish. They can be something we experience.
For me, that shift started when I stopped rushing.
Rushing can feel good at first. You feel productive. Efficient. Maybe you’re even winning more games. You get through your turns quickly, knock out multiple plays in a night, and head home feeling like you accomplished something.
But over time, I noticed something was off.
I’d rush through a game and still feel oddly hollow afterward. Sometimes a friend would seem disengaged or less interested. Other times, the constant learning of new games started to feel exhausting rather than exciting. We were playing more, but somehow enjoying it less.
That’s when I started noticing the difference between being a completionist and focusing on the experience itself.
When we rush, the wonder of a game shrinks. The artwork fades into the background. The theme becomes mechanical instead of immersive. Flavor text gets skipped. Table talk dries up. Turns start to feel like tasks—just one more thing to do so we can move on to the next game.
Slowing down changed that for me.
Mindful gaming doesn’t mean playing painfully slowly or holding everyone up. It means being present. Taking a breath before your turn. Letting moments land. Reading the flavor text. Appreciating the artistry and intention behind the design.
It means treating the game as a shared experience rather than something to complete.
When I let go of the need to play a certain number of games in a night, something surprising happened: I enjoyed games more. I developed a deeper appreciation for game design and theme. Conversations at the table became richer and more spontaneous. Tangents happened—and that was okay.
Even losses felt different. I could get completely crushed in a game and still walk away satisfied because I had truly immersed myself in the experience.
What changed my game nights most was this realization: fewer games often lead to richer experiences.
There was more laughter. More engagement. More moments worth retelling later. The memories weren’t about who won—they were about what happened around the table.
So I’ll leave you with a couple of mindful reflections.
Mindful Game Prompt
When was the last time a game night truly stayed with you?
What made it memorable? Chances are, it wasn’t the score—it was the laughter, the stories, the unexpected moments.
And what would happen if tonight you played just one game more slowly? If you took your time and allowed yourself to fully enter the experience?
You don’t need to change everything. Just notice. Just experiment.
When I started slowing down, I didn’t stop loving games.
I simply started enjoying them more.
Mindful Game Night Tip
Try this at your next game night:
Before starting the game, agree on one simple intention. We’re here to enjoy the experience, not rush to finish.
During play, take a breath before your turn. Notice the artwork, the theme, and the people around the table.
After the game, don’t rush to pack it up. Take a moment to share a favorite moment or something that made you laugh.
Sometimes the most meaningful part of the game happens after the final turn.