Legacy games aren’t just about winning or losing, they are about what you leave behind. Like a favorite novel, you can’t bear to finish or a dream that fades as soon as you wake, these games stay with you, their influence lingering long after you’ve packed away the pieces. But where did this idea of permanence and consequence come from, and how did it rise to reshape the way we think about board games? Let’s open the worn pages of history and trace the path of these ephemeral giants.

When Risk Legacy hit the shelves, it was a revelation. Here was a game that dared to alter itself, irreversibly. Stickers marked the board, secret envelopes held unpredictable twists, and players carried the scars of past defeats into future battles. It wasn’t just a game; it was an evolving experience, one where each victory came with the weight of what it cost. Risk Legacy shattered the notion that games had to reset after every session, and it paved the way for designers to push the boundaries of storytelling, permanence, and consequence in-game mechanics.

If Risk Legacy sets the stage, then Pandemic Legacy is the act that stole the show. Divided into seasons, the game introduced narrative-driven campaigns that evolved over multiple sessions, each decision leaving a permanent mark. Players became emotionally invested—not just in the world’s fate, but in their journeys through the game’s highs and lows. It was the first time a board game felt as urgent and immersive as binge-watching a TV series. Pandemic Legacy didn’t just succeed, it redefined the genre. Suddenly, legacy games weren’t just about novelty, they were about creating stories that lived with you long after the box was put away.

The legacy format exploded in the years, as designers explored its potential beyond mere campaigns. Titles like Gloomhaven and Charterstone introduced branching paths, character development, and cooperative goals, ensuring that no two campaigns were ever quite the same. Meanwhile, games like Betrayal Legacy married legacy mechanics with deep thematic immersion, creating an eerie, haunting atmosphere that could twist at any moment. The sense that the table could betray you, through mechanics or player decisions, kept things thrilling and unpredictable.

But the foundations of legacy games began to show cracks. Some players balked at the idea of “destroying” components or finishing a campaign only to be left with an unplayable board. Others missed the re-playability of more traditional games. Even as new titles like Clank! Legacy and Aeon’s End: Legacy introduced re-playability, addressing a key flaw in earlier legacy games, the question lingered: Could future designs strike the perfect balance between meaningful, permanent change and a game that lives on after the campaign ends?

The evolution of legacy games mirrors the arc of all great stories: moments of brilliance followed by challenges and reinvention. The future lies not just in new themes but in new ideas, games that allow players to rewrite their endings, modular campaigns that change every time, and even crossovers with other formats, like augmented reality or interactive apps.

At their core, legacy games tap into something primal: the human need to leave a mark. They ask the question, what will you sacrifice to win? But more importantly, what stories will you carry with you? As designers, we hope to build on this legacy, crafting experiences that feel both fleeting and unforgettable.

Because in the end, isn't that what all games are really about?