Disclaimer

This blog entry contains board games, motorway trauma, mild commercial enthusiasm, one eight-year-old with alarming strategic competence, and adults wearing matching shirts while explaining rules to strangers. No meeples were harmed in the writing of this article, although several may have been moved inefficiently during demonstrations. Any references to “work” should be understood in the board gaming convention sense, which means standing for hours, talking continuously, smiling professionally, and somehow still enjoying yourself. The NHS may wish to study this model, although it would probably create a mandatory e-learning module first.

It is now a week since the Richardt household made its annual pilgrimage to the NEC, just south of Birmingham, for the UK Games Expo — or UKGE, for those who like abbreviations, lanyards, and being surrounded by people who can explain worker placement mechanics without blinking.

UKGE is often described as the second biggest board game convention in the world. Or possibly the third. Depending on whether one measures by total attendance, unique visitors, trade hall size, spiritual impact, number of tote bags, or density of people saying, “I’ve heard this is very good but I haven’t played it yet.” The safest statement is that it is absolutely enormous, it is the largest hobby games convention in the UK, and it has now reached the point where calling it “a board game convention” feels a bit like calling the NHS “a modest administrative exercise.”

Technically, it is just a weekend.

Emotionally, it is a campaign.

Physically, it is leg day.

The adventure began after our son’s successful U10 tennis tournament, which was covered in the previous blog entry and involved the usual mixture of pride, stress, sports psychology, and adults pretending not to care about the score while very much caring about the score. With tennis concluded, bags packed, and the household operating on the calm efficiency of a family preparing for a military deployment with card sleeves, we left around 10am and pointed the car towards Birmingham.

The drive to the NEC is theoretically simple. One goes up the M5, approaches Solihull, joins the M42 for a few miles, and then joins the great British tradition of sitting in traffic while questioning all previous life choices.

The last few miles are always the crucial bit. The M42 does not so much become congested as undergo a full existential transformation into a car park. Regular travellers from London will understand this phenomenon from the M25, where the concept of “movement” becomes philosophical rather than practical.

Still, the journey was largely uneventful, which is the highest praise one can give to a British motorway trip. Eventually we arrived at Resorts World, just opposite the NEC. My wife and our son settled into the wider entertainment ecosystem of shopping, food court options, bowling, cinema, and other leisure facilities, while I headed to Wetherspoons to meet this year’s CGE team.

This is one of the slightly surreal aspects of UKGE. One moment you are a parent, husband, nurse, and driver. The next moment you are in a Wetherspoons near Birmingham meeting an international group of board game demonstrators. This is apparently normal.

CGE calls its demo team the “Imps.” An imp, traditionally, is a small mischievous supernatural being — a lesser demon, sprite, or cheeky little agent of chaos. In modern language, it often means someone playful, mischievous, and slightly difficult to supervise. Why CGE uses the term is not hard to understand. A good demo team appears friendly, energetic, and harmless, but underneath there is an alarming amount of preparation, rules knowledge, timing discipline, and the ability to explain a multi-layered eurogame to strangers while pretending their feet do not hurt.

So yes. Imps.

Accurate.

There were many people I met throughout the weekend, and I will now attempt the dangerous ritual of naming them without forgetting anyone. This includes Glenn, Stephen — well known on this website and therefore practically part of the furniture by now — JF, who flew in specifically from Sweden, Julian, Teddy, Fiona, Andrii, Avraam, Bryan, Gerardo, Martin, Jo, Roxxi, Chris, Oak, Miquel, Richard, Willoh, and of course Jakub.

There were also members of the CGE sales staff, whose names I shamefully do not know. This is entirely my fault. I can remember the opening sequence of a demo script, the difference between various resource types, and which player has forgotten to take their fear cards, but apparently not the names of people working approximately two metres away from me for three days.

Professionalism comes in many forms.

Mostly laminated.

Before the weekend properly started, supplies were required. Stephen and I therefore headed to the local Morrisons to acquire the core nutritional infrastructure of any serious convention: apples, bananas, and plenty of water. Hard-boiled sweets for the throat and energy bars had already been purchased, because if there is one thing demonstrators know, it is that the human voice is not designed to explain Wispwood for three consecutive days without assistance.

The two main new games from CGE this year were Codenames: Critical Role Adventures and Drillers. Both were available for pre-order, with their official wider release window later in the year, around the Gen Con period. Gen Con 2026 takes place in Indianapolis from 30 July to 2 August, which is technically July and August, thereby pleasing nobody who likes neat calendar categories.

At UKGE, however, these games were already stars.

Actually, “stars” might be understating it.

They were gravitational events.

The CGE stand became one of those places where people did not merely browse. They orbited. They hovered. They watched for empty chairs like predators observing a watering hole. If a seat became available at Drillers or Codenames: Critical Role Adventures, there was a brief flicker in the crowd, and then suddenly someone was sitting down as if teleported by pure hobby enthusiasm.

UKGE officially runs Friday through Sunday, with Friday and Saturday stretching from 9am until midnight, and Sunday finishing at 4pm. This sounds generous until one realises that open gaming until midnight is less a timetable and more a test of human endurance. By 10pm, most people are no longer playing games. They are communing with cardboard while surviving on chips, sugar, and the belief that one more round is sensible.

It is not sensible. It is UKGE.

Friday: The Calm Before the Storm

Because I had brought the whole family this year, we stayed in our own hotel roughly 30 minutes away from the NEC rather than taking CGE up on their generous offer to share accommodation with another Imp. Sharing a room is perfectly fine in principle, but with a family in tow, it seemed better not to inflict our morning logistics on an innocent board gamer.

We arrived at the car park on Friday at around 8.20am, at which point I legged it to Hall 4 and arrived just in time for Glenn’s briefing. There was a quick change into the CGE shirt, and then we waited for the storm to start.

Friday was Wispwood day for me.

I began on quick pitch Wispwood, which means standing near the game, explaining it to passers-by, and hopefully encouraging them to try a demo or purchase it. It is a curious social interaction. You have approximately 30 seconds to communicate that the game is beautiful, clever, accessible, engaging, and absolutely worth their time without sounding like you are selling broadband in a shopping centre.

All of the Imps were working to a timetable. Every hour we moved between different demo tables, quick pitch positions, and occasional breaks.

This worked very well. It meant no one was trapped in one position for too long, and for me personally it never felt overloaded. It also gave the entire weekend a reassuring sense of structure, which is essential when surrounded by thousands of people, hundreds of games, and at least one person asking whether the promo cards are included.

Demoing Wispwood was straightforward, largely because CGE’s demo versions are excellent. This is not accidental. It is one of the things CGE does remarkably well.

The demo copies are professional, slick, and easy to understand. The scripts are designed properly. The components are laid out intelligently. The opening turns are structured in a way that teaches the game without making players feel as though they have been enrolled in a compulsory afternoon seminar.

Most people who come to the CGE stand already seem to know this. They are happy to be guided through the first few turns, learn the basic mechanics, and then begin making their own decisions. That is when the game becomes interesting. A good demo is not really about winning. It is about understanding what the game is trying to do and whether your brain enjoys the shape of it.

Wispwood is particularly charming in that regard. It looks gentle and inviting, which is always dangerous. Board games often do this. They present themselves with beautiful artwork, glowing woodland creatures, and a cat, and then 15 minutes later you are staring at your tableau wondering whether your entire strategy was structurally unsound from the beginning.

Which, to be fair, it probably was.

Meanwhile, Drillers was an absolute hit. I do not think there was any point during the entire weekend when there was a free space to play it.

The same applied to Codenames: Critical Role Adventures. SETI, which is still a relatively new CGE title from the last couple of years, also drew strong attention, although it did not quite reach the same immediate hype levels as Drillers.

That is not surprising. A brand-new big title at UKGE behaves like a shiny object in front of board gamers. We are simple creatures, but with complicated rulebooks.

In the last few years CGE has published at least one, often two, significant new games annually, and the success has been immense within the board gaming community. I would also imagine it has not been terrible for the CGE bank account, although I have not seen the spreadsheet and therefore cannot confirm whether it makes happy noises when opened.

After a successful first day, we had a quick debrief. If I remember correctly, some changes were made to the Drillers script that evening. This is where the Imp community really shines. A group of experienced board gamers, demonstrators, and rules explainers, allowed to communicate over WhatsApp after a full day on their feet, somehow produces practical improvements rather than simply posting pictures of dinner.

It is remarkable.

Possibly dangerous.

But remarkable.

Saturday: Approximately 40% More Visitors and 400% More Children With Tactical Awareness

Saturday is traditionally the busiest day of UKGE. It has a different energy. Friday is busy but manageable. Sunday is calmer and slightly reflective. Saturday is when the convention expands into its final form.

There are more families, more children, more queues, more bags, more people moving in every direction, and more evidence that some youngsters are frighteningly competent board gamers. Do not be fooled by age. Some children can absolutely beat you at Wispwood or Arnak, then wander off to ask for a snack as if nothing significant has happened.

Our eight-year-old son is one such example.

This is a household problem.

On Saturday I had the first hour off, although “off” is a generous description because I was still hanging around the CGE stand trying to observe how to demo Codenames: Critical Role Adventures. I had read the script, but nothing beats watching experienced demonstrators do it properly. Rules documents are useful. Seeing someone actually teach the game to real human beings — with questions, hesitation, misunderstandings, and enthusiasm — is much better.

It was a real eye-opener and made my life considerably easier when it was my turn to demo the game.

Codenames: Critical Role Adventures drew constant attention. People hovered around the tables waiting for the chance to jump in when a chair became available. Among those hovering were the Harrison family, together with my wife and our son, all hoping to get a demo.

Unfortunately, they were unable to get a demo from me, but they did get to play with another demonstrator and, from the feedback I received, thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

This is one of the nice things about UKGE. You spend all day teaching games to strangers, then look up and see your own family somewhere in the crowd doing exactly the same thing you would be doing if you were not wearing a CGE shirt and trying to remember whether the next step is reveal, resolve, or regret.

The rest of my working day was mostly Lost Ruins of Arnak.

I am now something of a veteran with Arnak. It is one of the older games being demoed at the CGE stand, having been released in 2020 and created by Min and Elwen, and I have played it numerous times. It remains one of those games that feels elegant, clever, and deeply unfair when someone else is better at it than you.

A side note about the Arnak demo script: it is amazing.

Not because it is written by CGE and I am therefore biased. A German speaks his mind. Usually whether invited to or not.

The script is excellent because, within the first two turns, it teaches players around 90% of the available actions. That is an extraordinary bit of demo design. Arnak is not a small game. It combines deck-building, worker placement, resource management, exploration, research tracks, assistants, artefacts, items, fear cards, and the dawning horror that compasses are suddenly the most important thing in your life. And yet the demo script introduces these systems without making players feel overwhelmed.

That is not easy.

The spirit of the demo is again not to teach people how to win. It is to teach them what is possible. It gives them enough structure to understand the game, then enough freedom to make interesting choices, and finally enough time to realise that they would quite like to play the full version.

At UKGE, the demo version of Arnak is played over three rounds rather than the usual five.

Wispwood was played over two of its three rounds. Codenames: Critical Role Adventures was usually played over two or three scenarios depending on how quickly the group played.

This balance matters.

A good convention demo must give players a proper taste of the game without accidentally trapping them at the table until the next government reshuffle. Saturday absolutely flew by.

When the announcement came that UKGE was finished for the day, it was a surprise — at least to me.

Convention time behaves differently. A normal hour is 60 minutes. A UKGE hour is either 12 minutes or three years, depending entirely on whether you are on break, in a queue, or explaining a rule for the fifth time to someone who is definitely listening but also looking at a giant inflatable dragon behind you.

Sunday: The Calmer Day, Which Is Still Not Calm

Sunday is traditionally the quietest of the three days.

This does not mean quiet.

It means “less alarming.”

By Sunday, many board gamers have already done what they came to do. They have played the hot demos, bought the anticipated releases, acquired promo cards, visited the Bring & Buy, eaten something questionable, and reached the stage where the phrase “I might just have one last look around” becomes financially dangerous.

Sunday is also bargain-hunting day. Some publishers would rather sell stock than take it home, which means prices sometimes soften. The mood changes slightly. People are tired but happy. Bags are heavier. Feet are worse. Voices are lower. The collective caffeine requirement rises.

We checked out of the hotel around 7.30am after breakfast and headed back to the NEC. Early hotel checkouts during convention weekends are a special category of human suffering. They combine luggage, tired children, car park logistics, and the knowledge that you are about to spend another day standing upright. Character building, as people say when they have run out of actual solutions.

The CGE sales team reported that the SETI expansion had sold out on day one, Friday. The Wispwood promo cards and cats were sold out by Saturday. Wispwood itself sold out on Sunday. This is excellent news for CGE and terrible news for anyone who likes to “think about it and come back later.” At UKGE, later is a dangerous place where stock no longer exists.

For me, Sunday was mainly another Wispwood day. Because UKGE finishes at 4pm on Sunday, the day disappeared quickly. One moment we were starting. The next moment the final announcement was already lurking in the future like an endgame scoring condition.

As my birthday is coming up, my wife had asked me which board game I would like.

I replied, “Surprise me.”

This is a noble answer, but also a dangerous one. Allowing the random board game gods to choose a present can result in anything from a masterpiece to a game about competitive turnip logistics. Therefore, in order to assist fate, I took a picture of SETI and sent it to her.

The reply came back: “Our son suggested that for you.”

Happy days.

This is parenting success. The child has not only developed his own gaming taste but is now acting as an advisory board for birthday procurement.

SETI demo were highly in demand – even Dr Who turned up:

My wife came to the CGE stand earlier in the day to buy the game. She and our son also managed to get a demo of Lost Ruins of Arnak. Now, Arnak is not an easy game. The resource management alone is enough to make many adults stare quietly at their player board while reconsidering their relationship with compasses. Our eight-year-old sat down and played a genuinely good game.

To be fair, he did have some prior knowledge. Stephen had taught him Arnak a couple of months ago at the Taunton Library board game day. Even so, watching an eight-year-old handle Arnak with competence is both delightful and faintly unsettling. Children are not supposed to understand resource conversion this quickly. They are supposed to ask where their shoes are while wearing them.

The final hours passed very quickly. Before we knew it, the announcement came over the conference speakers:

“The UKGE 2026 is now officially finished.”

And just like that, three days of gaming, demoing, explaining, walking, selling, buying, queuing, eating, laughing, and trying to remember where you last put your water bottle came to an end.

We helped tidy up the board games. There was a quick debrief. Demo games were distributed to various Imps. Then came the goodbyes, which are always slightly strange. For three days you operate as a team in a brightly lit cardboard universe. Then suddenly everyone returns to normal life, taking with them sore feet, new games, and at least one WhatsApp group that will probably remain active longer than expected.

Because the CGE sales team noticed that my wife had bought me a birthday present, they also gave me a board game as a present. This was incredibly kind and very much appreciated. As part of working for CGE, we were already allowed to choose a game for free, and my choice was Little Alchemists.

I had played it recently with our son, who loved it. Last year I had tried several times to get a demo at the CGE stand, but every time I went over, the table was full. Having now worked on the stand myself this year, I am no longer surprised. CGE demos do not remain empty. They are occupied by gravitational law.

Meanwhile, the Rest of the Family Had Their Own UKGE

While I was busy demoing games, my wife entertained our son with impressive stamina and tactical flexibility. For board gaming children, UKGE is heaven. A large part of Hall 2 is dedicated to family and children’s gaming, and it is genuinely one of the best aspects of the convention. It means UKGE is not just a marketplace for serious hobbyists carrying backpacks full of disposable income. It is also a place where children can discover games, try things, design things, and realise that adults do not have a monopoly on strategic thinking.

Our son entered a board game design competition and won a copy of Dice Hospital. This is excellent, although given the family’s NHS background, one could argue that he has simply acquired thematic training material. If he starts discussing patient flow, bed capacity, and dice-based discharge planning, we may need to intervene.

They also played a game called Cat Earth, which they liked enough to buy. I know very little about it, but the title sounds like either a board game or a David Attenborough documentary after someone accidentally spilled catnip into the production meeting.

Either way, it came home with us.

That is often how UKGE works. You arrive with a plan. You leave with several games, some promos, a tote bag, vague financial regret, and the feeling that you have somehow still missed half the convention.

The Journey Home and the Return of Real Food

We left UKGE around 5pm. On the way home, a notification arrived on my phone saying that over 81,000 people had attended this year’s Expo. Later, the official figure was even higher: 87,837 attendances across the weekend, with 51,196 unique ticket holders.

That is a lot of people.

That is also a lot of people simultaneously deciding whether to buy one more game before going home.

We stopped at Gloucester Services — the farm shop one, naturally — and had what felt like our first proper food in three days. Convention food is a strange beast. You do not realise how much rubbish you have eaten until you encounter actual vegetables again and your body responds as though reunited with an old friend presumed lost at sea.

Water, apples, bananas, sweets, energy bars, coffee, chips, sandwiches, and whatever can be eaten quickly between shifts is not a diet. It is a survival mechanism with packaging.

Gloucester Services restored some dignity.

Not all dignity.

But some.

So, What Next?

After UKGE, the obvious answer should be: nothing. A quiet few weeks. Some rest. Perhaps even a weekend without logistical planning.

Obviously, this is not how the Richardt household operates.

We collected our newest family member yesterday, but more about that in one of the next entries. I will not spoil the reveal here, mainly because every blog requires a teaser and apparently we are now operating like a streaming service.

Work is taking priority again, with the next resident doctor strike just around the corner from 15 to 19 June 2026. I also have a conference in Birmingham in July, because apparently Birmingham has now become a recurring character in our lives. My wife needs to finish her current course, and I am fairly certain the next course is already waiting somewhere in the shadows wearing academic clothing.

Our son has around seven weeks of school left, with various sporting adventures still to come. There is cricket, including a Somerset Cricket pathway day after he was put forward for it. There is the usual tennis adventure, now increasingly in the older U10 age group, planned throughout the summer and into autumn. There will be training sessions, fixtures, tournaments, driving, snacks, early mornings, emotional regulation, and parents standing at the side pretending to be calm.

So yes, lots of exciting things are coming up.

But for now, UKGE 2026 is done.

Three days at the NEC. Five halls.

Thousands of people. Countless games.

One family adventure. One birthday present safely acquired.

One eight-year-old continuing to demonstrate that age is no barrier to board game competence.

One wife deserving a medal for managing the family side of the convention while I spent three days explaining cardboard ecosystems to strangers.

And one CGE Imp returned home, tired but happy, carrying games, memories, sore feet, and the quiet knowledge that somewhere, somehow, someone is still waiting for a chair at Drillers.