Within the first few minutes of my first game of Hive I was overcome by a sense of despair, of its source I could not be quite sure. It was only when the game wrapped up and the thought of playing another round deeply depressed me did I fully understand that the problem was Hive itself. I deeply disliked it. But why? It’s beloved by many, and the general sentiment is that it’s a modern classic. The answer is Hive is messy, uninteresting, and fundamentally misunderstands the elements that make abstract games work. I am well aware that seemingly no one else shares this opinion, so let’s just get on with the review. Hive is two-player abstract about a pile of bugs crawling all over each other in big nasty clump of filth. Gross. Players are given 11 hexagonal tiles depicting Beetles, Grasshoppers, Spiders, Ants, and a single Queen Bee. I suppose in the universe of Hive insects and arachnids of all walks of life have learned to unite as a nation under a common flag. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere, but I’m not sure what it is. Anyway, one of Hive‘s big selling points is that there’s no board. I’ve heard many, many people praise this feature, saying they love how “portable” the game is (“It even comes with travel bag!”). Let me just say that a game’s portability has never once influenced my opinion of it. As often as the two are conflated, portability and quality have literally nothing to do with each…