Around a table

Around a table, for evenings without a screen in them. Five games that take longer to explain than to start, and none of them takes longer than an hour.

The moving maze has a board that shifts every turn, so the path you planned is gone before you get to walk it. It is forty years old and nobody has improved on it. More board games.

A trick-taking card game for pirates asks you to bid how many tricks you will win and then win exactly that many. Not more. The pirates are decoration; the arithmetic is the game. More card games.

A spot-the-symbol game works from five years old to grandparents: two cards, one symbol in common, and the fastest eye takes the pile. Rounds last a minute, which is why it never goes back in the box. More card games.

A dice game that is over in fifteen minutes lets everybody use every roll, so nobody is waiting for their turn. The scoresheet does the rest. More dice games.

And the tile game, runs and groups rearranged endlessly, the one that comes out at every family gathering and is still going when the dishes are done. More board games.

A memory game with beavers asks you to remember what is face down and bluff about the rest. Ten minutes a round, and the youngest usually wins. More card games.

A logic puzzle with gears is one player, a hundred and twenty challenges, and gears that have to turn. It is the quiet corner of game night. More brain teasers.

And a mat to roll the puzzle up in, so the thousand pieces go away for the night without going anywhere, and the table is free for dinner. More puzzle mats.