I don’t engage with video game adaptations of traditional board games. Why is this the case? The appeal of video games lies in their speed, visual appeal, and reduced reliance on other players compared to classic games that use dice or cards. However, after my recent family board game night was hindered by scheduling conflicts and familial tensions, I chose to test out some board games on my iPhone that Saturday evening.

I began with Uno, a cherished family favorite. We still play with the Simpsons Uno set we purchased years ago—a simple, comforting card game. The iOS version differs significantly, introducing a three-minute time limit per round, which adds a layer of urgency beyond just strategy. While I appreciate this twist, I find myself missing the lively family interactions (and the fierce shifts in loyalty) of the in-person version. It just doesn’t compare to sending silly faces to MoshOnion933. Believe me, I tried.

Next, I jumped into Yahtzee With Buddies. It’s one of the few games I enjoy that my family doesn’t share my enthusiasm for. I appreciated the fresh spin that highlighted multipliers for specific scoring categories, and I enjoyed unlocking the various dice and treasures. Yet, I soon realized these were merely gateways to microtransactions, complete with a pop-up urging me to buy more rolls just as I was 16 seconds away from achieving Yahtzee. The final straw was when scratch cards started appearing, a sneaky form of gambling reminiscent of the old FIFA packs.

Monopoly Go is even more frustrating. The overwhelming number of beeps and chaotic graphics gave me a headache. Land on a space, and you’ll find yourself assaulting other players’ properties with wrecking balls, only for them to defend with characters like Baby Yoda. It’s like a surreal Monopoly experience, resembling the kind of game you might be forced to endure by a malevolent antagonist.

Opting for the “Triple” option allows you to roll three dice, with the reward being tripled. This, however, leads to faster depletion and microtransaction traps, akin to a slot machine experience. You can even set it to autoplay and passively observe the distracting graphics, much like being trapped inside a retro washing machine. It hardly feels like a game; rather, you’re a landmark in a colorful reset where you spend real money to watch an artificial score fluctuate. Only someone who thinks Mrs. Brown’s Boys is hilarious would consider this fun.

I expected The Game of Life to be similar, but I was pleasantly surprised!

The familiar choices are back: Career or college? Married or single? One child or four? Costs have increased, and you now need to pay $20,000 upon marriage. We just acquired a pasta maker! Tax is only assessed if you land on certain squares, meaning you’ll only pay if you have bad luck. Ah, the life of a billionaire! I wish I could find the original game’s spinner, the second-best piece of equipment in board gaming history (nothing can top the Pop-O-Matic, akin to bubble wrap).

In my subsequent game, I prioritized my career over having children and ended up significantly wealthier. This isn’t merely a game; it’s a highly detailed simulation of life. I’ve avoided playing games because it feels disheartening to see how simple success can be in their version of life. And being in my 50s, I crave something with more complexity.

Then, I remembered chess—the board game where computers excel. I downloaded Zach Gage’s Really Bad Chess to explore if someone could really reinvent this classic by 2025.

I loved his “Pocket Run Pool,” which brilliantly combines ball-hitting with exciting new features. His chess adapts the classic game with a clever premise: random piece placements and numbers. This results in matches where, at times, you may have four queens facing off against three knights and a pawn, liberating chess from its conventional openings and predictability.

We achieve the extraordinary with a version of chess that demands deeper thought. More. As you progress, the difficulty ramps up with AI opponents controlling prime pieces. It’s a delightful experience.

Perhaps the less social facets of board games make computers more beneficial to us. The only individuals who converse while playing chess are the villains from films. I wonder if a microtransaction Chess Go! will surface—there’s likely some entity trying to ruin everything out there.