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Assemble and prepare a formidable crew of dwarfs to fight the mighty Fafnir!
Nidavellir is a compact auction game with crisp icons, solid components, and a clever zero token twist that forces recurring tempo decisions. I appreciated the quick setup (5–10 minutes), short play window (~45–60 minutes including explanation), and low downtime. However, the dwarven theme rarely impacts choices and card draws introduce a noticeable luck element, so I’d recommend it for casual groups who like light auctions, not for players seeking deep, strategic tableau play.
Nidavellir, designed by Serge Laget and published by GRRRE Games, is a compact auction-and-set-collection card game for 2–5 players with an advertised play time of about 45 minutes. The central hook is simple to describe: three rows of hero cards appear each round and players bid for the privilege of choosing first from a row. The bidding system uses five reusable bidding tokens, one of which is a special zero token that lets you upgrade your highest unused token if you play it — a small but meaningful tempo mechanic that forces repeated trade-offs between taking value now and improving future bids.
I played a single session at a friend's house with three players; I was new to the game and another player taught me the rules. The rulebook and table explanation were crystal-clear, so I reached competent play quickly despite mixed familiarity at the table. Complexity sits in the medium-light range: you don’t need a long rules walkthrough, but choices matter enough when the table is tight. Mechanically the game combines sealed-bid and constrained bidding (you only have five tokens and reuse them), selection-order bidding across three rows, set collection for scoring, and some simultaneous action selection feel because multiple rows resolve in a round. The theme is dwarven recruitment and hero-forging, but I found it largely cosmetic rather than mechanically relevant.
After one play I rated the session a 6/10. I enjoyed the pace and clarity, and I appreciated the little engine of token upgrades, but the balance leans toward short-term luck rather than deep tableau development. If you like short, tight auction rounds and light card drafting with minimal downtime, Nidavellir will be pleasant; if you hunger for heavy strategic planning or thematic depth, the game may leave you wanting.
Setup took about 5–10 minutes for me and the others. There are a fair number of cards and tokens to lay out: three rows of face-up hero cards, a supply of colored recruitment tokens, and each player's set of five reusable bidding tokens. The physical layout looks deliberate and tidy on the table — cards and tokens are arranged so every player can see the available choices without stretching. I had no component issues during play.
Component quality felt good: cardstock weight and a clean finish on the cards and solid, tactile bidding tokens made the bits pleasant to handle. The iconography is very clear and accessible; I didn’t need to reference the rulebook to interpret card effects or scoring icons after a single explanation. Artwork I’d describe as good-functional — it supports readability more than narrative immersion. Display-wise, the cards and tokens present nicely for a 45–60 minute game and the design avoids excessive fiddliness during setup.
Because tokens are reused and the table has a steady flow of revealed cards, the setup-to-first-move ratio feels efficient. For casual groups that don’t want heavy table engineering between rounds, Nidavellir’s production hits the right note.
Gameplay centers on three simultaneous auctions: each round players secretly choose a bidding token to commit to a row, then bids are revealed and selection order determines who picks first from that row. You always have five tokens available across rounds; the clever twist is the zero token rule: if you spend your zero token on a bid, you may upgrade your highest unused token afterward. That creates a recurring strategic decision: spend a strong token to secure a card now, or sacrifice the chance to win something this round in order to improve future bids. I liked that micro-decision—it produces compact, repeatable tension every round.
Mechanistically the game mixes sealed-bid feel (you pick a token in secret) with constrained bidding (finite reusable tokens), and that combo creates variability: sometimes a player’s single high token will dominate a row, sometimes everyone conserves and one person sneaks multiple wins. The cards themselves feed into set collection scoring: assembling five different colored heroes yields a special reward card for your tableau, and individual heroes score in varying ways. Because card draws and which cards appear in the three rows are out of players’ control, luck plays a noticeable role in which strategies are available in any given game.
Player interaction is primarily competitive bidding — moderately-interactive, not direct confrontation. I enjoyed the social moments where I tried to guess an opponent’s priorities and decide whether to block them or let them take a card while pursuing my own color sets. Downtime stayed minimal; turns resolve simultaneously and the reveal-and-pick rhythm keeps everyone engaged. Still, because draws and row compositions can swing scoring potential, I often felt that the outcome leaned a bit more on short-term opportunities and luck than on long-term tableau engineering. The dwarven theme shows in names and art, but it does not alter mechanics; I found theme integration poor—it labels the pieces rather than informs the decisions.
Memorable moments for me were simple: choosing to spend the zero token and forego a desirable hero to upgrade a token, then using that upgraded token two rounds later to snatch a high-value card. Those discrete plays felt smart and satisfying. Conversely, less memorable stretches occurred when card draws left no clear path to the set I was chasing and I felt forced into opportunistic bids.
After one play, I consider Nidavellir a tidy, approachable auction title that does a few things neatly and trades off depth for speed and accessibility. I give it a 6/10 based on my experience: the rule clarity, component quality, and the zero token mechanic earned praise from me, while the uneven impact of luck and the thin thematic skin held it back. Replayability felt moderate—I’d play again in a casual group or as a lighter filler between heavier titles, but I don’t see it replacing deeper auction or tableau games in my collection.
I’d recommend Nidavellir to players who like short bidding duels, quick setup, and low downtime. It’s ideal for groups that favor relaxed, think-on-your-feet choices over long-term planning. I would not recommend it as the centerpiece for a night of heavy euros or for players who prefer dense engine-building and theme-driven decisions; those players will likely find Nidavellir too simple and somewhat random. In short, I enjoyed the session enough to play again, but I walked away thinking the game is best suited as a light auction appetizer rather than a main-course strategic experience.