Windmills, tulips, and humans prancing around like 19th-century traders pretending they’re clever. That’s Windmill Valley. Instead of fighting like real goblins, you sit there spinning your dainty little action wheels, picking which pathetic chores to do. “Ooooh, shall I plant tulips or build a windmill?” Bah! You’re basically farmers with prettier hats.
The whole game spins around those blasted rotating wheels. You rotate them two steps, pick one of the actions, and think you’re some tactical genius. But it’s just wheel-spinning! Humans can barely manage a donkey cart, and now they want me to clap because they managed to line up “Build” and “Market” at the same time.
And that floodgate track—ha! Water rises, you pay guilders, you snatch some rewards, you whine if you can’t afford it. Humans love to turn basic irrigation into “tense decision making.” Goblins know how to handle floods: we drink, drown, or run. No fiddling with tiny wooden tokens needed.
Then there’s the market where you scurry in circles to grab tulip bulbs and trinkets. Every round you shuffle your marker around, hoping to grab the best slot before Krizbella shrieks, “Oh no, you blocked me again!” She acts like I planned it. No, Krizbella, I just enjoy watching your face crumple like wet parchment.
And the windmills themselves. Build them in the fields, but only if they connect back to the market along some dainty little route. Humans clap when they manage to link a windmill across the Bloemen Route, as if that’s grand engineering. Goblins build towers of bones that collapse only when we push them down for fun. That’s engineering.
The tulip planting is the most ridiculous. Line up colors in rows and columns, or make rainbow patches for points. It’s Sudoku with flowers. Watching humans gloat over a perfect tulip row is like watching children squeal because their mud pie didn’t collapse. And then you’ve got helpers (cards with ongoing powers) and contracts (end-game scoring conditions). Of course humans love contracts — nothing excites you like paperwork.
Still, I’ll admit the whole thing comes together better than I expected. The rotating wheels force you to think ahead, the market is mean enough to make people cry, and the tulip fields do look satisfying once they fill up. A goblin likes a good patch of color before setting it on fire.
Final Verdict
Windmill Valley is tighter than most human farming nonsense, with clever wheels, nasty blocking in the market, and tulip patches that almost trick you into caring. Still, underneath the gears and bulbs it’s just humans dressing up gardening as strategy.
Jugbite’s Rating: 7 cabbages out of 10.
A neat puzzle of flowers and fans, but I’ll be laughing in the swamp while you humans argue about your tulip rows. Sneer.
Krizbella