by Kinbote4Zembla

Vagrantsong is a gorgeously illustrated (and, in some regards, cheaply produced) boss battler. The game's premise is somewhat novel: travellers on a train attempt to save a host of no-good ghosts. The old-timey language, the rubber hose-like aesthetic, and the components themselves contribute to a joyful sense of mischief. The fact that these ghosts are then pummelled into salvation is actually adorable in the context of this cartoon world.

It features acrylic standees for all player characters and all opponents. These standees are actually appropriate thematically, too, since they simulate the translucency of ghostliness. The game utilizes a draw bag, stylized as a bindle, from which players draw tokens to determine boss actions and forage for one-off abilities.

But the central gameplay loop requires players to take control of one of the six protagonists and use an action selection system involving dice rolling success thresholds. You want to move? Spend one of your three coins to move as much as the value on printed on your player board. You want to "patch up," the game's equivalent of healing? Spend coins on that action space and roll "bones" (dice) equal to the number of committed coins and heal once for each roll that exceeds that action's success threshold. All of this is relatively simple and streamlined.

Every player turn is followed by the boss's turn. This has the effect of being incredibly frustrating. Not only does the boss have combat actions, but, by moving through spaces occupied by PCs, the boss is able to "haunt" the PCs and generate status effects. This slows down the action significantly and will definitely piss off players.

For the first few scenarios, I was really drawn in by the game's scrappy charm. Then, things went off the rails.

The emerging narrative is barely coherent and doesn't properly justify itself. This is more of a general criticism of campaign games, since I have yet to encounter a game that was competently, imaginatively, or meaningfully executed.

The initial acquisition of skills is a thrill. Just as in life, procuring new skills and obtaining new problem solving tools enriches your experience. But the abilities plateau in terms of power. So, you eventually start making lateral moved between abilities that feel similar.

Then, the combat becomes tiresome since options erode as each scenario drags on. You see, each PC's special skills may be assigned to a limited number of slots around the player board. If the PC's health reaches zero, the player must choose to remove a skill from play. So, as the bosses bop around, applying status effects and dealing damage, the player weeps and calls forth to God, asking, "Why aren't there more options for mitigation? Why must this game punish me with often unavoidable and mostly random actions?"

There is a lot of luck, a lot of randomness, and a lot of frustration. And, even though the bosses change out between scenarios, the gameplay doesn't change too much. (Late game provides some variation, but the game overstays its welcome, by that point.)

I really want to like this game. And, I guess, I do. But where's the zip, the zest? It doesn't provide a fulfilling tactical puzzle, which is ostensibly what the whole game is meant to provide. If you want to chuck some dice around, take swings at grim spectres, and enjoy the perverse pleasure of endless frustration, this game may be for you. But it was rapidly tarnished for me. It is as insubstantial as the very "haints" you slap smilingly to Heaven.

6.5/10

P.S. I don't know that I feel great about the game's glib use of "vagrancy" and bindles, etc., trappings of early representations of unhoused folks. Feels a little gross. It feels particularly grimy, since the game isn't meant to either humorously or seriously interrogate preconceptions of unhoused folks. It's just meant to be quaint, I guess?

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