Tom Russell, co-founder of independent publisher Hollandspiele, joins Diagonal Move to discuss her unique take on game design and publishing.
DM: Hi Tom, thank you for joining us. You are known for three things: unique takes on historical war games, train games and co-founding publishing company, Hollandspiele. Can you tell us the story of how you got to where you are today?
TR: Well, what it ultimately comes down to is, I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
It’s not that I didn’t work hard, because I did, and not that I’m untalented, because I do alright for myself. But there are plenty of folks who work a lot harder and are a heck of a lot more talented who don’t get the same traction that I did.
Mary (Holland-Russell – Hollandspiele co-founder) and I get to publish board games for a living, as our full-time gig. More than that, we get to do it while making very weird, very niche games in a very weird, very niche way. And that really comes down to one lucky break or coincidence after another.
For example, one of the earliest games I had published was Northern Pacific through Winsome Games. That game brought my work to Cole Wehrle’s attention, and so years later, as we were prepping to get Hollandspiele off the ground, I could write to Cole and ask him if he could do a game for us, and he would have some idea who I was.
That game was An Infamous Traffic, and it brought our company to the attention of a wider audience, which ultimately made our model sustainable as a full-time endeavour.
Now, we stumbled upon that model because Mary and I worked for a publisher who had a somewhat similar model, which ultimately came about because of a magazine wargame I had done for another publisher.
One thing lead to another, and I can trace similar interweaving chains of coincidence and cause-and-effect, all leading up to the present moment. I will say that I tried to position myself to take advantage of those opportunities.
By being interested in a lot of different things, I increased the probability that those opportunities might arise.
Our work with the other publisher gave us the model, and Cole’s game gave us a head start, but we needed to put in the work and have the skill-set to grow our business and its audience.
DM: Your historical war games cover a wide range of historical eras, game mechanics and player count. Can you describe your process for developing these three strands within a single game?
TR: These historical designs start with the history and with research. Most of this research is “passive”, in that I’m not reading up on a topic trying to make a game.
If I go into it with my game designer hat on, I’m going to be looking for mechanisms or chrome and what-not, going to be focusing on the details. But what I’m looking for is the big picture, a general understanding of the topic so that I’m reasonably conversant in it.
Maybe this turns into a game and maybe it doesn’t. It helps that I’m interested in a lot of different things, so I read up on a lot of different things.
Once I decide to do a game on a topic, my research gets a bit deeper and more detailed. Then, I wait for the idea to fully form in my brain.
I don’t start making counters or writing rules or any of that, not until I have a complete, coherent, and cohesive picture of exactly what I want the game to be, what I want it to feel like, what I want to look like, what tensions I want to be present, what thesis I want to express.
When all that is clear in my head, then I start working on the game, and I keep working on it until it looks like that picture. Sometimes that picture forms very quickly; sometimes it takes a while.
For example, in 2019 we released both The Toledo War and Westphalia. So, The Toledo War took maybe two or three days to come together. Westphalia took ten years.
Regarding the question of player count, it’s actually pretty simple. I tend to think of player counts as falling into three buckets: solo games, two player games, and games for three-plus.
Each of these to me suggest a very different space to explore. A three-plus game is a game about alliances and shared incentives. A two player game is very much about direct and bitter conflict, control of tempo, control of the balance of the game itself.
I wouldn’t be comfortable calling a solitaire game a “puzzle” or an efficiency game, but there are elements of that in my solo designs.
So, you’ll likely never see me do a game these days that scales from one to six, or from two to five, because each of these experiences are so distinct that for me there isn’t really much overlap between these kinds of games.
DM: Your games share many mechanics with other games within the historical war game genre yet will often have something that sets them apart (a stack of steps, 3 draw cup system, a focus on logistics). Are these ‘twists’ born from a desire to innovate, to better reflect a historical period, personal design challenges, something else?
TR: Honestly, it just feels natural to me to do it the way that I do it. I like having clever mechanisms of course and am reasonably proud of some of the things I’ve come up with, but I’m not necessarily trying to be “twisty”.
I do feel like a good historical game needs to have a thesis or view its subject through a lens. It’s not enough I think to have a game be “a game about the American Revolution”, but “a game about the function of logistics during the American Revolution” is worth doing.
In the end it’s a matter of what you’re trying to say and how you’re trying to say it.
DM: Complex historical train games. Another niche genre with a devoted fan base. How would you describe their appeal to an interested passer-by?
TR: Well, I don’t know if I’d call train games “complex”. Most train games are actually very simple. Even something like the 18xx, which has a daunting reputation, isn’t usually very complicated in terms of rules overhead.
I also wouldn’t call them “historical”. At least personally I don’t approach the train games in the same way as I do the wargames. I’m not expressing a thesis, but creating a sort of a mechanical exercise to explore player dynamics.
That’s probably the key I would zero in on: the interaction between players. Sure, I’d talk about building the track and investing in stocks, but I also know there are people who couldn’t care less about that.
These are very competitive, very interactive games in which each player’s portfolio gets hopelessly entangled with that of other players: everything you do to help yourself has the potential to help someone else, everything you do to hurt someone else might hurt you.
Every action matters, and if you make a mistake, it can sink your position and make it irrecoverable. That kind of experience isn’t for everyone, but I think the people who would be into that would recognize that if you described it to them.
DM: When creating a series of historical train games, are there specific issues that you model with each game and how do you reflect these in a design?
TR: I’ve done several train games of course, and in a way many of them are iterative, expanding upon what I did the last time. But each game is generally its own thing, conceived for its own reason and with its own emphasis.
Northern Pacific was intended to focus on shared incentives and chains of “if I do this, she’ll do that”.
Irish Gauge was I think an attempt to create a simple, streamlined, introductory take on Winsome’s action selection style cube rail games. I say “think” because unusually, the entire game sprung forth fully-formed like Athena over the course of an hour while I was stuck in traffic. So I didn’t so much go into Irish Gauge with a goal in mind as I decided that was the goal after the fact!
Trans-Siberian Railroad is a messy sort of game, where I was trying to do something heavier and a bit more capricious. This introduced the “track leasing” mechanism that ran through my next three games. Those next three games are also interested in exploring more cooperative rather than destructive play patterns in the context of a competitive game.
Iberian Gauge has numbered shares, and players who are invested in a company build one track per share according to the order in which those shares are bought.
London & Northwestern is unique in that you can only invest in other player’s companies, and that their stock values only go up, never down.
The Soo Line is the last of those track-leasing games, and it’s the weirdest of the bunch. It very deliberately breaks some of the “rules” of “good train game design”.
For example, in games where majority shareholders make all decisions for a company, you want at least as many companies as you have players. Well, this is a game for up to five players with only three companies, which means that some players take a less active role, having to make their fortunes as pure investors.
Asymmetry is common in train games, and sometimes some companies are kinda rubbish, but here the three companies are rubbish in wildly different ways.
Some people like it. Some people hate it. That’s to expected, as it’s a deliberately abrasive game.
The newest choo-choo game that I have pulling into the station is Dual Gauge, and this is a multi-map train game system. How this happened is that Mary told me I needed to do a new train game every year, and I thought to myself, “wow, that sounds like a lot of work. But if I do a system, I can do the base game this year, and then just do a couple maps every year to fulfil Mary’s requirement.”
Well, Mary was really happy to hear about me doing a system that could have expansions, but she told me that this didn’t cut the mustard, and that I will also be on the hook for new standalone train games each year.
Dual Gauge borrows some elements of the 18xx – track shared by all companies, blocking by way of placing stations, buying trains and running routes, some of those trains become obsolete, and a two-dimensional stock market – but it’s very much a cube rails game at heart (despite not having any cubes). It is I think its own thing, and the system is robust enough that each map should have some unusual tweaks and fresh challenges.
DM: Do the train and military game strands of your design career have more in common than meets the eye at first glance – simulation concepts, for example?
TR: Not really. The historical games are built to explore or express a thesis through a model. Sometimes this is a very serious subject where what I want to express is very important to me; This Guilty Land is about the complicity of compromise in oppression. Sometimes the subject is less serious, or at least less immediate: With It Or On It is a coarse-grain model of the advantages and disadvantages of hoplite formations.
The train games on the other hand are purely about mechanics and player dynamics, and playing with genre conventions and expectations.
DM: Hollandspiele is a small, independent company in a crowded field. How do you manage to stand out from, and compete with, other companies?
TR: Well, the secret is that we don’t really “compete” with anyone. We’re off to the side of the market proper, catering to more adventurous tastes.
We use a print-on-demand model: you order the game from us, pay us for it, we turn around and pay our printer, who manufactures and ships you the game. So these games are essentially made one at a time. We never “over-produce”, never have any inventory to sell off.
We don’t deal with distributors, don’t sell games at conventions. We’re completely insulated from all the hub-bub, and our model allows us to tackle more unusual and less commercial topics and approaches.
There’s an audience for that which has traditionally been underserved, and I think that’s a large part of our success.
DM: In addition to your own games, Hollandspiele also releases games by other designers. From a publisher’s point of view, what makes a game stand out from the masses? Are there any games that you are particularly glad to have been able to release?
TR: We’re mostly looking for a game with a point of view or a strong authorial voice.
We’re proud of all our releases, but the jewels in the crown as it were have been the aforementioned An Infamous Traffic – which went out of print last year – and Erin Escobedo’s Meltwater – which we’re still printing.
Both games were strong sellers, which is always nice, both were well-received critically, and both expanded our audience, bringing eyes to our other titles.
DM: What do you think the future holds for niche historical games? Do you feel they will remain in a niche genre or will they become more (or return to the) mainstream as their mechanisms and design ideas become more frequently seen in popular games?
TR: I mean, “niche” games are gonna be niche games. That’s not to say that historical games don’t have broader crossover appeal, and there have definitely been strides toward making historical games more approachable to that wider audience.
I’m sure that this will continue to be the case. It’s just not something I’m particularly interested in, and I have the luxury of just doing whatever the heck I want.
DM: Do you have any advice for aspiring designers and publishers?
TR: I make weird, brittle, abrasive games that alienate and frustrate people. So I’m not sure if anyone looking to be successful in this field should be listening to my advice.