Five Families: Friese's Bold Bet on Broken Promises

Friedemann Friese’s latest creation, Five Families, arrives on the tabletop scene not with a bang, but with the quiet, thoughtful hum of a machine that, while not fully optimized, possesses undeniable genius in its blueprint. Publisher 2F-Spiele has brought us a title that reviewer Meeple Mountain aptly described as an “interesting letdown” – a phrase that should immediately pique the interest of any veteran player who values design exploration over commercial polish.

At its heart, Five Families is an audacious blend of cutthroat auction dynamics and tactical area control, a combination that promises high-stakes interaction. Players vie for control of various territories, deploying their distinctive mobster meeples to assert dominance. The core loop revolves around a unique auction system: a confrontational mechanism that forces players into direct competition for limited resources or influence. This isn't a simple 'bid-and-take'; it's designed to be a dance of bluffs and calculated risks, where the cost of winning isn't just a number, but potentially the loss of a strategic advantage elsewhere. The rules, lauded for their straightforwardness, initially suggest a clean, elegant design, yet the deeper machinations reveal a more complex beast.

However, the very ambition of this design introduces significant friction. The 'runaway leader problem,' a common pitfall in many competitive games, rears its head here with particular venom. Early successes can snowball, creating an insurmountable lead that saps the competitive spirit from the later rounds. Compounding this is the 'capriciousness of the card draw.' In a game where strategic positioning and resource acquisition are paramount, an inconsistent flow of crucial cards can feel less like a challenge and more like an arbitrary roadblock. This isn't just bad luck; it's a design choice that, perhaps unintentionally, introduces a level of randomness that undermines the tactical depth the auction system strives for. Perhaps a more robust hand management system could have mitigated some of the card draw's impact. And finally, the 'monotony.' While straightforward rules are often lauded, here they seem to contribute to a repetitive game flow, where the initial excitement of the unique mechanics gives way to a predictable rhythm that lacks variance or escalating tension.

The thematic wrapper of the American Mafia, specifically the 'Five Families' that dominate the criminal underworld, is a rich vein for narrative. Films like 'The Godfather' have etched these powerful, often ruthless, organizations into our collective consciousness. In Five Families, this theme translates into the vying for territory, the covert dealings of the auction, and the deployment of your 'family' members across the board. The mobster meeples, described as 'cute li’l,' offer a charming contrast to the cutthroat nature of the gameplay. This isn't a game about moralizing; it's about the cold, hard reality of power struggles. The theme isn't just window dressing; it's an integral part of understanding the confrontational design. The 'capricious card draw,' for example, could be interpreted as the unpredictable nature of informants, rival family interference, or sudden opportunities in the underworld. The area control isn't just abstract points; it's controlling the docks, the back alleys, the speakeasies – the very lifeblood of a criminal enterprise.

So, is Five Families 'good' for the game? The answer, as with many of Friese’s designs, is complex. Commercially, it might struggle against titles that prioritize immediate gratification and flawless balance. Yet, for the veteran player, the designer, or the enthusiast who appreciates the *attempt* as much as the *execution*, Five Families offers a profound learning experience. It’s a masterclass in how ambition can sometimes outstrip practical playability, but also in how a strong core concept can still resonate. The 'monotony' and 'runaway leader' issues are real, and they impact the enjoyment for many players. However, the unique auction mechanism and the compelling area control framework, even with their flaws, present interesting problems to solve and systems to dissect. This isn't a game to be played casually; it's a game to be studied, discussed, and perhaps even house-ruled by a community eager to polish a diamond in the rough. It challenges our assumptions about what makes a 'good' game, pushing us to consider the value of bold experimentation over perfected iteration. For those of us who appreciate the art of game design, this 'failure' is far more valuable than a dozen perfectly competent, yet ultimately forgettable, releases.