Agency
So, you’ve cooked up a shiny new board game and now you want to unleash it upon the world? Hah! That’s where the Grumpy Goblins Agency comes in. For a proper heap of shinies (yes, a fee), we’ll take your game and drag it kicking and screaming into the light of publishing.
What do goblins do, you ask? Everything humans are too soft for:
- Rules Polishing – we gnash through your clunky wording and hammer it into something humans can actually read without crying.
- Art & Layout Guidance – goblins have an eye for shiny things (and pointy ones too). We’ll help make your game look sharp enough to catch attention.
- Production Know-How – printing, components, boxes, shipping—boring stuff to you, but goblins know the tricks (and the traps).
- Marketing Mischief – shouting loud, causing a fuss, and getting your game seen. Goblins love a good ruckus.
Why choose Grumpy Goblins Agency?
Because goblins don’t flatter. We don’t promise rainbows and fairy dust. We promise to fight tooth and nail to give your game a proper shot at living in the wild—whether in stores, on tables, or in the hands of unwitting humans.
So, if you’ve got the courage (and the coin), toss your creation into the Grumpy Goblins Agency. Just don’t complain if we laugh at your theme before we help make it shine.
TestLab
So, you’ve made a shiny new board game and think it’s clever? Ha! Send it to the Grumpy Goblins TestLab and let our rowdy crew of dice-hurling, rule-bending goblins tear it apart. For a modest sack of shinies (that’s a fee in human talk), our TestCrew will sit down, play your game, and give you the most brutally honest feedback this side of the swamp.
We don’t sugarcoat. We don’t politely nod. We growl, we argue, we test every corner of your design until the cards are bent and the meeples have teeth marks. If your game is fun, we’ll admit it—begrudgingly. If it’s boring, broken, or smells like elf socks, we’ll tell you straight.
Why use the TestLab?
- Goblins are ruthless playtesters—if your game survives us, it’ll thrive with humans.
- You get real, practical feedback from chaotic minds who love smashing rules to find cracks.
- We write up results in goblin-snarled but useful reports, so you know what works, what flops, and what needs fixing.
- Bonus: we might even like your game (rare, but it happens).
So if you’ve got courage—and shinies to spare—send your game to the Grumpy Goblins TestLab. Just don’t cry when the goblins laugh at your “innovative mechanics.”
Reviews
“Why You Should Throw Your Fancy Game at Us for Review”
Listen up, you game-making humans. You’ve spent moons scribbling rules, gluing cardboard, and painting tiny plastic adventurers. Now you’re hiding in your workshop, muttering, “I hope someone likes it.” Bah! Hope is for elves. If you want the world to know your game exists, you’ve got to shove it into the hands of loud, opinionated creatures—like us reviewers.
When you submit your game for review, here’s what happens:
- We play it. We tear through your rulebook looking for loopholes and bits we can mock.
- We yell about it. On the internet, where thousands of squishy humans will hear.
- We make noise. Sometimes good noise (“Best game since shiny rocks!”) and sometimes bad noise (“Who designed this disaster?”)—but either way, people start talking about your game.
Why bother?
- Visibility, you dolt. The gaming swamp is full of cardboard boxes. If you don’t make a splash, your precious brain-child will sink without a bubble.
- Trust. Goblins may be cranky, but when we say a game’s worth playing, other goblins and humans believe us (for some reason).
- Feedback. We’ll spot the bits that make no sense and the ones that sing. It’s like free goblin consultancy—minus the gold.
How to submit? Easy: send us a message with your game details, your press kit, and an actual copy of the thing. (Yes, a real copy. No “print-and-play PDF” unless you want us to sneeze paper dust for a week.) If you’ve got a release date or Kickstarter, tell us early, so we can shout about it before the big day.
So there you have it. Reviews get your game into the grubby mitts of people who’ll talk about it, share it, and maybe—just maybe—love it. Or at least argue about it, which is almost as good.
Now stop dithering and send the thing. My table’s ready. My lantern’s lit. My goblin gang’s hungry for new cardboard.