Forbidden Desert

Forbidden Desert dropped in 2013 from designer Matt Leacock, published by Gamewright, and it landed in an interesting spot. It’s the sequel to Forbidden Island, sharing a designer and a cooperative framework, but it steps up the complexity in ways that give it a distinct identity. Players take on the roles of adventurers whose helicopter has crashed in a vast desert, and their only hope of escape is to excavate the buried ruins of an ancient city, locate four parts of a legendary solar-powered flying machine, assemble it, and fly out before the desert kills them. Community reception has been solidly positive for over a decade, with players praising its accessibility and thematic tension, though criticism around randomness and long-term staying power keeps it from reaching the upper tier of cooperative designs.

What sets Forbidden Desert apart from its predecessor is the physical dynamism of the board. A 5x5 grid of desert tiles shifts during play as the sandstorm moves across the surface, burying locations under sand markers and reshuffling the spatial puzzle every turn. That constant motion creates a visual representation of escalating danger that even new players grasp immediately.

Visual Design Done Right in Forbidden Desert

Accessibility is the game’s calling card. On each turn, a player takes up to four actions chosen from a simple menu: move to an adjacent tile, remove a sand marker from your tile or a neighboring one, excavate a tile by flipping it to reveal what lies beneath, or pick up a flying machine part that has been located. Free actions allow sharing water and passing equipment cards between players on the same tile. That’s the whole action economy, and most groups internalize it within a single round. For families or groups where someone is always teaching the rules, that low barrier matters.

The sandstorm mechanic is the centerpiece, and it earns that status. After each player’s actions, storm cards are drawn equal to the current storm meter level. Most cards shift the empty space in the grid by sliding tiles toward it, and every tile that moves picks up a sand marker. Two or more sand markers block a tile completely, preventing movement onto it and locking it from excavation until cleared. Sun Beats Down cards force every player not sheltered in a tunnel to lose water. Storm Picks Up cards advance the meter, increasing the number of cards drawn each turn going forward. That acceleration is what gives the game its arc. Early turns feel manageable. By the midgame, sand is piling up faster than the team can clear it, water supplies are dwindling, and the storm meter is climbing toward the skull symbol that means instant defeat.

Variable player roles add tactical depth that keeps sessions from feeling identical. Six adventurer roles come in the box, each with a unique ability that changes how the team approaches the puzzle. An Archaeologist clears two sand markers from a single tile for one action, while a Climber ignores blocked tiles and can carry another player along. Playing as the Meteorologist means spending actions to reduce the number of storm cards drawn or peek at upcoming cards and reorder them. Navigators move other players up to three tiles per action. Water Carriers refill from excavated wells and share water with adjacent players for free, and Explorers move, clear sand, and use certain equipment diagonally. Which roles show up has a dramatic effect on strategy, and since they’re dealt randomly, the team’s approach shifts from game to game.

Finding the flying machine parts involves a clever deduction layer. Eight clue tiles are scattered through the grid, two per part, and each pair indicates a row and a column. When both clues for a part are excavated, the part appears at the intersection of those coordinates. Because tiles shift with the storm, a part sitting on the board moves along with its tile whenever the wind blows. That wrinkle rewards forward planning and punishes teams that ignore the storm’s movement patterns.

Component quality and value deserve mention. At a retail price that consistently sits around twenty to twenty-five dollars, Forbidden Desert includes a satisfying plastic flying machine that players physically assemble from four collected parts during the game. Adjustable difficulty through four storm meter starting positions, from Novice to Legendary, lets families scale the challenge as they improve. For the money, the production and replay value are strong.

Where Forbidden Desert Falls Short

Quarterbacking is the criticism that follows every cooperative game, and Forbidden Desert doesn’t escape it. All information stays visible on the table. Every tile, every sand marker, every player’s water level, every equipment card. One assertive or experienced player can easily direct the entire team’s actions, turning other participants into pieces being moved around a board. The variable roles help somewhat, since different abilities create different priorities, but they don’t solve the underlying problem. Groups with balanced personalities won’t notice. Groups with one dominant voice will feel it acutely.

Storm deck randomness can swing games in ways that feel disconnected from player decisions. A bad shuffle that clusters Sun Beats Down and Storm Picks Up cards early in the deck can create situations where the team is doomed before they’ve had a reasonable chance to respond. Win rates on normal difficulty are low by design, but some of those losses arrive so quickly and so brutally that they feel less like a fair challenge and more like the deck decided the game was over. Players who need to feel that their choices matter more than the card order will find this frustrating over repeated sessions.

Long-term staying power is where Forbidden Desert shows its limits. The game follows the same scenario every time: find four parts, get to the launch pad, fly away. While the modular board, random role distribution, and shuffled storm deck create tactical variety, the strategic arc doesn’t evolve. After a dozen plays, experienced gamers report a sense of repetition that lighter games can struggle to shake. How quickly this sets in depends entirely on what else is on a player’s shelf. For a family that plays one game night a month, Forbidden Desert has years of life in it. For a hobbyist burning through three new games a week, it might peak within a handful of sessions.

Two-player games present a specific challenge that comes up repeatedly in community discussion. With only two adventurers on the board, coverage is thin and the margin for error is razor-slim. Most players who have tried it at two recommend bumping down to Novice difficulty or controlling two adventurers each. At the other end, five players introduces noticeable downtime, with players sitting through fifteen or more storm cards between turns. The sweet spot, according to broad community feedback, sits at three or four.

A Game for Its Moment

Here is the tension that defines Forbidden Desert’s place on the shelf. It occupies a specific window in a player’s board gaming journey, and how much value it provides depends on where someone sits in that window. For families discovering cooperative games, for groups who have only played mass-market titles, for anyone looking for a step up from Forbidden Island without jumping to Pandemic or Spirit Island, this game fills that gap brilliantly. It teaches fast, plays in under an hour, and costs less than a pizza dinner.

But that same accessibility means the ceiling is lower than games with more strategic depth. Players who move deeper into the hobby consistently report that Forbidden Desert is one of the first games they stop reaching for. Not because anything is wrong with it, but because they’ve found games that offer more to chew on. That trajectory is worth understanding before buying, because the game’s value proposition is entirely honest about what it is.

Should You Play Forbidden Desert?

Forbidden Desert belongs in homes with families who want a cooperative challenge they can share across ages and experience levels. Three to four players is the ideal count, offering enough adventurer abilities to cover the board without bogging down between turns. It’s also a strong choice for anyone building a collection of gateway games to introduce friends to the hobby.

Skip it if your group already owns Pandemic and plays it regularly, if you need deep strategic variety to hold your attention past a dozen sessions, or if the quarterbacking dynamic is something your group has already struggled with in other cooperative games. At this weight, there is no structural fix for a dominant personality at the table.

The Verdict on Forbidden Desert

Forbidden Desert is a sharp cooperative game that punches above its price tag and teaches in minutes. The shifting sandstorm creates real tension, the variable roles keep every session feeling different, and the challenge level stays honest without becoming cruel. Experienced hobbyists will eventually outgrow it, and the quarterbacking problem never fully goes away. But as a gateway into cooperative gaming or a reliable family night staple, few games at this price point deliver as much.