Clips: How Emanuele Briano Turns Laundry Tools into Logic

Clips, the latest design from Emanuele Briano, strips away the bloat of modern tabletop components to focus on a singular, tactile interaction. This is not just another card game; it is a study in how physical constraints can streamline complex deductive reasoning. Briano, known for his interest in asymmetrical information, has found a way to turn the humble clothespin into a sophisticated data-tracking tool that bridges the gap between player perception and hidden mechanics.

The crunch of Clips lies in its elegant solution to the Hanabi problem. In most hidden-hand games, players must internalize a massive amount of verbal metadata—colors, numbers, and positions—often leading to mental fatigue or accidental rule-breaking. In Clips, the information is physically anchored to the card. By clipping a peg onto a specific edge or corner of a card you cannot see, your teammates are providing a persistent visual cue. This shifts the game from a memory test to a pure logic puzzle. The economy of the game revolves around the limited number of clips and the mandatory play-per-turn rule. You are constantly balancing the need to inform your partners against the ticking clock of an emptying deck. It is a tight, mathematically sound loop that rewards precision over guesswork. Unlike the heavy bookkeeping of a 5th Edition character sheet, the state-tracking here is entirely externalized, allowing for a faster, more aggressive playstyle.

While Clips operates primarily in the abstract space, its lore is rooted in the mental architecture of collaboration. Every card represents a fragment of shared knowledge, and every clip is an anchor of certainty in a sea of hidden variables. In the context of the deductive genre, the fluff is the tension itself. You are not just playing cards; you are building a collaborative map of a reality that only your teammates can fully perceive. This creates a unique psychological narrative at the table—one of trust and interpreted signals that feels more intimate than a standard dungeon crawl. It captures that specific feeling of a party trying to disarm a trap in a high-stakes tactical skirmish game where one wrong move ends the mission.

The table feel of Clips is remarkably distinct. There is a satisfying, tactile thwack when a clip hits a card, providing a sensory confirmation of a shared strategy. It avoids the fiddliness of tiny cardboard chits that slide across the table or get lost in the carpet. For veteran GMs who appreciate clean systems, the lack of rules overhead is a breath of fresh air. It is a game that gets out of its own way, allowing the players' social dynamics to take center stage. The simplicity of the gesture—clipping a clothespin—belies the depth of the strategy involved. It is an intuitive action that requires zero explanation, yet it carries the weight of a critical hit at a crucial moment.

Ultimately, Briano has identified a gap in the market for low-friction, high-concept games. Clips proves that you do not need a hundred-page manual or a bucket of plastic miniatures to create a deep, engaging experience. It relies on the most fundamental element of gaming: the way humans communicate under pressure. It is a masterclass in minimalist design that every aspiring creator should study. Whether you are a fan of the Commander Format looking for a palette cleanser between rounds or a hardcore strategist, the physical logic of this system is undeniable.