Take Time Review – The Best Cooperative Games Are The Ones That Beat You

Disclaimer: Take Time was provided for free by VR Distribution, although the writing and opinions of this article are my own.

Cooperative board gamers have been eating well in recent years, and Take Time fits comfortably into that trend while carving out its own space. Designed by Alexi Piovesan and Julien Prothière, it’s a cooperative card game built on silent communication, careful planning, and the near certainty that those plans will fall apart.

How to play

Take Time is a game built around tests, and if that phrase alone gives you nervous shakes and flashbacks to Year 8 English with Mrs Walsh, you’re not alone. Thankfully, these tests are the fun kind. They’re thinky, occasionally challenging, and extremely satisfying when you get them right.

Each time you play, you’ll choose one of ten packs of four tests to work through. The core rules stay the same each time. You place twelve cards into six sections arranged around a clock face. What changes from test to test are the special rules, each designed to keep you on your toes from start to finish.

Stripping away those special rules for a moment, a game of Take Time works like this.

First, create a deck by shuffling together twelve Solar cards, numbered one to twelve, and twelve Lunar cards, also numbered one to twelve. Deal cards to the players so that the total number of cards handed out is exactly twelve.

Now, before anyone picks up their cards, you get a single chance to talk. This is when you discuss plans. Which sections of the clock need big numbers, where lower values might work, and who might be willing to take risks. When that conversation dries up, everyone picks up their cards and silently panics as most of that careful planning immediately goes out the window.

Starting with the boldest player, or the one who thinks they have the strongest opening move, players take turns placing a card into one of the six sections of the clock face. As you place your cards, you’re trying to follow two simple rules:

• Each section must have a higher total than the previous section.
• No section can have a total over 24.

During this phase, your team is allowed to play a limited (very limited) number of cards face up. This is the only form of communication permitted until the round is over.

Once all twelve cards have been placed, you resolve the clock one section at a time, flipping cards face up to see if you’ve met the test’s requirements. If everything passes inspection, you win the round and move on to the next challenge.

Each new pack of tests adds fresh rules designed to mess with your planning, your assumptions, and your ability to mind meld with your team.

Reading minds, badly

Fifteen months ago, I reviewed Sky Team, the two player cooperative game about landing an aircraft in the most dire of circumstances. Its mix of shared objectives, limited communication, and constant second guessing struck a chord with the board gaming public and you couldn’t visit an internet forum without someone spouting a good word about it.

I’m happy to report, that if you enjoyed that game, then Take Time taps into a similar tension, but approaches it from a different angle. Dice are swapped for cards, and the player count opens up so more people can take part. You’re still making the best decisions you can with the incomplete information on the table, and still hoping the rest of the table is thinking the same as you.

But Take Time is more than just playing cards and wishing for the best. It’s a clever logistical puzzle where you’re constantly solving two problems at once. How do you use your hand to meet the needs and special rules of the different clock sections? And how do you communicate that intent to the rest of the table without saying a word?

This is where the face-up cards come into play.

You’re allowed to play a limited number of cards face up each round, which makes choosing when and where to do so absolutely vital. A face-up card needs to communicate more than just its value. Playing a card openly in a central clock segment, for example, can give everyone useful information about how high earlier segments might be, or how low later ones could safely go.

The context of how and when cards are played adds just enough weight to make every turn interesting. These clues become even more important as you move deeper into the tests, especially when challenges require specific cards to be played or some other bizarre requirement.

This is where the pre-round discussion really earns its keep. It’s when you create systems like “if you have this card, play it first.” Thinking through and building these small rules together is a fun, collaborative exercise. What’s even more enjoyable though, and occasionally maddening, is how quickly they tend to fall apart the moment you pick up your cards.

I love it when a plan falls apart

A big reason why those systems fall apart is the assumptions you’re forced to make. This happened far too often in our games. I’d see someone stack two or three cards into one of the final clock segments and assume they were big numbers like elevens or twelves. Then we’d flip the cards and discover they were ones, twos, and threes.

After getting over my shock at being so wrong, we’d talk through why those cards were placed there, and the logic usually made sense. They just weren’t thinking the same way I was.

As much as the pre round talks are enjoyable, so too are these post test conversations. Sitting around the table and unpacking what just happened helps you understand how your teammates think and gradually improve as a group. Playing with my wife and son, it was genuinely satisfying to feel us getting more in sync with each game.

Still, no matter how much we improved, Take Time kicked our butt more times than I’ll admit in this review. Thankfully, failure is never the end. When you lose a challenge, you simply shuffle up and try again, and you’re rewarded with the ability to play one additional card face up.

That generosity, combined with how quickly the game plays, makes Take Time very hard to walk away from. Rounds are fast, losses sting less, and before you know it you’re shuffling up and saying “one more go.” In most other games, repeated failure would have sent us packing, but Take Time’s simplicity and pace turn those losses into motivation rather than frustration.

Over time, that rhythm of failing, talking it through, and immediately trying again becomes the real hook. Miscommunication isn’t something to avoid. It’s part of the experience. The wrong assumptions, the moments of doubt, and the post round conversations where everything suddenly makes sense all feel intentional and rewarding. Take Time isn’t just a clever cooperative puzzle. It’s a game deliberately built around how groups think, stumble, and slowly learn to work better together.