Contents

The Deckbuilder Canon

Ten games, one mechanic: the deck you're playing with is the deck you built while playing

Contents

Every collectible card game before 2008 had the same shape: you build a deck, then you play with it. The building happened at a table, weeks earlier, with a wallet.

Then a man called Donald X. Vaccarino collapsed those two activities into one, and the consequences are still working their way through the medium.

What Dominion actually invented

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Dominion (Rio Grande Games, 2008) starts every player with an identical deck of ten weak cards. You draw five, spend them, and the spending buys new cards — which go into your discard pile. When your draw pile runs out, the discard shuffles and becomes your new deck.

That’s it. That’s the whole invention, and it’s beautiful, because it means every purchase is a decision with a delay and a dilution cost. The card you buy makes your deck stronger in the abstract and thinner in effect right now, because it’s one more card competing for the five slots you draw next turn. Adding a good card can make your deck worse.

Vaccarino took the Spiel des Jahres in 2009 and the mechanic escaped immediately. What took another decade was someone noticing that this loop and the roguelike loop are the same shape — a run of accumulating decisions that ends, teaches you something, and resets.

Dream Quest (Peter Whalen, 2014)

An iOS game that looks like it was drawn in Microsoft Paint by someone in a hurry, because it approximately was. Whalen built a dungeon crawl where the progression system is a deck and the crawl is a card-drafting run, and the programmer art is genuinely a barrier for most people.

It’s in the canon because Mega Crit have been consistently open that Dream Quest is where Slay the Spire came from. Whalen went on to design for Hearthstone and then Magic, which is a reasonable outcome for a man who accidentally founded a genre on an iPad.

Hand of Fate (Defiant Development, 2015)

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An Australian studio’s odd hybrid: a dealer lays out cards to form a dungeon board, you move across it, and when a fight triggers the game drops you into real-time third-person combat. Your deck determines what’s in the world and what’s in your hands.

It half works, and the half that works is important — Hand of Fate proves the deck can be a world generator rather than a combat resolver, which is a thread the genre still hasn’t fully pulled.

Slay the Spire (Mega Crit, 2017–2019)

Early access in November 2017, 1.0 in January 2019, and the axis the whole genre now rotates around. Anthony Giovannetti and Casey Yano put Dominion’s dilution problem inside a roguelike run and added the thing that makes it sing: card removal costs money at merchants.

That single decision is the game. Every reward screen offers you three cards and the correct answer is frequently “none of these”, because your deck’s power is a ratio rather than a sum. Slay the Spire made a generation of players understand deck thinning, which is a concept board gamers had been arguing about for a decade in relative privacy.

The relics do the rest — permanent modifiers that reshape what a good card even is — and the four characters are genuinely different games. It’s the most-copied indie design of its decade, and the boom afterwards is a story in itself.

Signs of the Sojourner (Echodog Games, 2020)

The one with no combat, and the reason the genre is a design space rather than a template. Cards have symbols on each edge; a conversation is a chain where you match your card’s symbol to the last one played. Fail to match and the conversation breaks down.

The mechanic is the theme. You travel, and travelling forces new cards into your deck while old ones fall out — so becoming fluent with the people you meet on the road makes you illegible to your mother back home. Your deck is your accumulated experience and it can’t hold everything. I’ve seen nothing else in games where the mechanical cost and the emotional cost are the same number.

Monster Train (Shiny Shoe, 2020)

The tightest post-Spire refinement. Three vertical floors, a pyre to defend at the top, enemies climbing, and units you place permanently on floors while playing spells from your hand.

The addition is space. Slay the Spire’s board is a row of numbers; Monster Train’s is a tower with a top and a bottom, so card decisions acquire geography. Pairing two of five clans for each run gives it a combinatorial ceiling most of its contemporaries lack.

Griftlands (Klei Entertainment, 2021)

Klei’s contribution is two decks. You have a negotiation deck and a combat deck, and almost every situation can be resolved with either — talk your way out or fight your way out — and both decks level independently across the run.

It’s the most written game here. NPCs remember whether you killed their friend, factions track your standing, and the day-cycle structure gives the run a narrative shape. The cost is that maintaining two decks means neither reaches the density Slay the Spire’s single one does. It’s a trade Klei made with open eyes.

Inscryption (Daniel Mullins Games, 2021)

The genre’s arthouse entry. Mullins builds a card game with a sacrificial resource system — your creatures pay for other creatures — inside a cabin, with a dealer, and then spends the rest of the game examining the frame around all of that.

I’ll stay vague because the discovery is the point. What’s canon-worthy is the mechanical argument: Inscryption keeps changing what a card is, and each change is legible as game design rather than as a gag. A card game that keeps breaking its own frame is the shortest honest description.

Cobalt Core (Rocket Rat Games, 2023)

The most underrated. Three ships in a horizontal lane, and your cards move you sideways as well as attacking — so every hand is a positioning puzzle where dodging is a card you have to have drawn.

It’s small, it’s about eight hours to understand and a hundred to master, and the crew combinations rewrite the deck’s identity the way Monster Train’s clan pairs do. The writing is warm in a way the genre rarely bothers with.

Balatro (LocalThunk, 2024)

A single developer in Saskatchewan, working anonymously, shipped a game in February 2024 that took Game Awards for Best Independent Game, Best Debut and Best Mobile that December.

Balatro is a poker hand-builder wearing a deckbuilder’s clothes, and the distinction matters: the deck is barely the interesting object. The Jokers are. Each Joker is a multiplier or a rule change, and they compose — which means the game’s real system is finding two or three Jokers whose effects multiply into an absurd number, and then watching the score notation give up.

It’s the purest expression of the genre’s actual drug: the moment your build stops being a plan and becomes a machine. The poker roguelike that ate a year is not an exaggeration about my 2024.

The design problem nobody has solved

Deckbuilders have a curve problem. The run’s tension lives in the first third, when your deck is bad and every card matters. By the last third a working build usually plays itself, and the game becomes an execution exercise with a foregone conclusion.

Slay the Spire papers over it with Ascension levels — twenty escalating difficulty modifiers that push the failure point later. Balatro does it with an ante scale that outruns any build eventually. Monster Train adds covenant ranks. Every one of these is the same admission: the genre’s fun has a shelf life inside a single run, and the fix has been more difficulty rather than a structural answer.

There’s a second one, quieter. Almost every game here inherits Dominion’s assumption that a deck is a bag you draw from randomly, which means variance is doing a large share of the emotional work. A run that dies because the right card sat at the bottom of the pile feels different from a run that dies because you misplayed, and the genre has largely decided to let players blame the shuffle. Cobalt Core’s positioning and Signs of the Sojourner’s matching chains both push against that by making the sequence of your hand meaningful rather than its contents. Neither found many imitators, because randomness is cheap drama and designers know it.

That’s the honest weakness. And it’s the same weakness the roguelike canon proper solved by making the whole game about resource scarcity instead of build power — which is what the loop was arguing all along. The mainstreaming brought the audience and softened the teeth, and roguelites ate their ancestors on the way through.

Where to play them

Dominion is a board game with a solid official online client. Everything else here is on Steam; Slay the Spire, Balatro, Inscryption and Monster Train are all on consoles and phones as well, and the phone versions are the correct versions for at least two of them. Dream Quest is still on iOS and Steam, still ugly.

Start with Slay the Spire, because the vocabulary comes from there. Then Signs of the Sojourner, to see the mechanic doing something nobody else has attempted.

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Jay
Written by Jay

vo.rs's games critic. Jay covers the medium as a system rather than a spectacle — this month's release, the indie nobody bought, and the Amiga game it's quietly descended from — asking what a mechanic makes you feel and why the loop holds. Learned to wait through a C64 tape load, never stopped playing since, and still finishes the odd 60-hour RPG out of spite. Expect argued verdicts, no score ever, spoilers below the line, and a running list of older games worth your weekend.