I imagine some gamers might take their first step into the board game world with more accessible games. Social deduction is one of the entry points. Easy to learn and ready-to-play in just a few minutes of explanation. We are granted some big titles, one of them being The Resistance. Of course, I would not forget the more classic Werewolf, which for some of you maybe more well-known as Mafia. These are undoubtedly fun games. However, they share one particular trait that Taylor Hayward has notably refined in Dawn.
Dawn enters the scene as a cooperative game. I must admit, it’s a rarity for me to dive into this genre. And honestly, I’d have likely passed on reviewing it if it were just another straightforward co-op out of the box. What’s the catch, then?
There’s always a twist. Dawn remains cooperative as long as the entire gang decides to keep it that way. Is that it? Well, no — otherwise, it would be absurd to keep Dawn in the social deduction category. The beauty lies in the secrecy. Our choice remains hidden until the end of the game, or until someone starts noticing suspicious behaviour.
A hidden role game without player elimination
Set in a small town in ancient northern Europe, Dawn casts us as the townsfolk. We are working to build our small community, making it prosper, and defend it against external threats. Over six rounds, the game is meant to cooperate. As said, it’s only if we choose to, that is. Alternatively, a more self-serving path is open — hoarding treasures in our own storehouse is something to judge, but still a fair game.
At this point, I realised Dawn feels much like a throwback to the original version of The Resistance. We essentially have two roles only. While The Resistance coins the term operatives and spies, we have the townsfolk and the scoundrels in Dawn. True to its name, the latter role is to sabotage the cooperative effort for personal gain.
Nevertheless, Dawn still differs from that other game. While the other has players’ roles pre-selected randomly, we get to choose whether to aid the town or let it burn. It’s my own choice to build or to stash more treasures in my storehouse. A fresh mechanic, if not groundbreaking. This gives more incentive because I decide how I want to play the game.
A scoundrel is easy to spot in the endgame. As long as I have seven or more treasures in my storehouse when the game ends, then I am marked as the scoundrel. At this point, redemption is out of question. Either I win with the most treasures among the other scoundrels, while hoping the townsfolk does not manage to bring prosperity to the town. Hence, being the saboteur in this game is, personally, harder than in any other game. Not only I have to beat the other traitors in terms of greediness, I need to make sure the other role does not succeed.
This dynamic is what I find so refreshing in Dawn. And what I love most is that the role itself is not static — I am not locked into any role I initially choose. For instance, I can be genuine, helping the town prosper and somehow, in the last moment, grab the win for myself as a scoundrel.
Or vice versa: I could start by hoarding treasures, and then realising that my victory is slowly slipping away — thus, I switch my allegiance back to the town. That’s a flexibility I haven’t encountered in any other game. It creates a window, a sort of catch-up mechanic, that keeps all players at edge and in the running.
Flexibility — THE GOOD, THE BAD, OR THE UGLY?
This role fluidity in Dawn is, however, becoming a double-edged sword. See, despite the noble goal, building the together—which honestly, a smoother sail when everyone sticks to the cooperative path—most people succumb to the strong temptation. They tend to turn rogue.
It’s not a mere theory. I have seen it happen, multiple times even. Every player at the table—not just a few, neither even half—ultimately chooses the path of scoundrels by game’s end. All of them. Hence, with such flexible role-switching, Dawn can sometimes abandon its premise of social deduction, devolving into a straight-up hoarding competition.
Don’t get me wrong. We can say that’s the charm of this game, and I wouldn’t argue. But unless we introduce a rule where in a specific point or situation lead to everyone’s loss, this will tend to happen. When we reach such state, there’s no more duality. It’s everyone for himself. The social deduction may unravel, crumble apart even, well before dawn breaks.
Nevertheless, Dawn sets out to cement its position as a fresh social deduction, if not to carve a niche in the party game department. While doing so, it blends in risk and resource management typically encountered in more complex titles. Balancing resources — treasures, in this case — to build structures, rally and fend off bandit attack, and heal wounds due to battles. All these. Dawn bundles all layers in that bite-size package.
I am a full-time food technologist during weekdays. However, when the calendar hits weekends, I transform into an avid board gamer. I am a hardcore Legend of the Five Rings (L5R) LCG player from Fantasy Flight Games (FFG). Current hobby: buying board games. My shelf of shame’s list is getting longer, thanks to you, Kickstarter.
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