It stands in the middle of a board depicting four fantasy kingdoms, a massive black centerpiece that stands over a foot and some change tall, a monument to all that is good, pure, and right about board gaming. It rests on a lazy Susan so that it can be turned to face the current player with its back-lit windows that will display the wizards, merchants, treasures, and monsters the heroes encounter throughout the game. It is a black plastic castle tower containing a primitive computer and a motorized cylinder with various illustrations that illuminate when backlit by three tiny light bulbs. A membrane keypad controls the whole thing and between the glowing red LED lights that tell you how many of your warriors are dying while fighting brigands and the creaking, zero-bit sound effect of a crypt door opening it is undoubtedly the single greatest game component of all time.

This singular game piece even trumps a full box of Fantasy Flight Games’ best plastic sculpts or anything from the most exquisite productions coming out of Europe during the 1990s. It is the top-billed star of DARK TOWER, a 1981 Milton Bradley game that has become legendary over the years, spoken of in nostalgia-flecked remembrances of the games of youth. And if you want one, either pray to the Thrift Store Gods for the find of your life or drop $150-$250 for a working copy on eBay.

I first encountered DARK TOWER sometime in the early ‘80s- probably around the same time my parents were taking me to see movies like BEASTMASTER and SWORD OF THE SORCEROR in first-run theaters. I remember seeing the game advertised on a TV commercial during Saturday morning cartoons—a spooky old man in a cloak (who turned out to be Orson Welles, I found out many years later) said some spooky old man stuff and then there were the usual images of kids playing the game with the big emphasis being that the game was all about “electronic wizardry”, and those two words together in the practically Jurassic world of 1981-1982 added up roughly to “OMFG” in today’s jargon. For some reason I never had a copy of my own- and still don’t- but the neighbor’s kids had it and my memories of playing it back then are mostly centered around playing it in a poorly lit half-finished basement with these kids called Craig and Clint- I wonder if they still think about the game at all or if it’s been filed away with other childhood detritus in favor of “maturity” and the merciless grind of adulthood.

I certainly never forgot DARK TOWER, of course, and the game was one of those pivotal moments where that game playing gene that I have found a vessel in the material world even at an early age- a big, black plastic vessel with a computer brain that might as well have been a lump of coal compared to today’s electronics. It was probably my first real experience with anything resembling a real adventure board game, let alone something with role playing game trappings. It was one of the foundation games that got me from there to here and I’m pretty sure that many gamers who grew up in the 1980s would likely feel the same way— at least those who haven’t lost the ability to simply have fun and enjoy a game beyond analysis of mechanics, balance, and depth.

DARK TOWER is a simple adventure game. The players all represent a hero setting forth from a home citadel to find three keys- all of which must be found by exploring crypts in the other three regions of the board. Along the way, the players try to amass warriors to fight in the inevitable siege of the tower, accumulate food to feed that hungry rabble, acquire gold, ward off wandering brigands, and visit locations such as a bazaar and sanctuaries where you can sort of recuperate when the tower decides that it’s time to kill off all of your warriors.

Once a player has the three keys, they return triumphant to their home citadel and can then march up to the tower. But before the final battle, the right sequence of keys has to be figured out. Once the door is unlocked, it’s a back and forth struggle between the attacking army and the defending brigands to the death. The winner gets to see a little “Victory” image and hear some triumphant music. It doesn’t sound like much now, but back in the early 1980s even the best video games rarely had endings.

There are decisions to be made along the way but by and large this is a completely luck-driven game- and that’s an absolute compliment to the design because the game almost feels like a gambling exercise at times, and with gambling comes drama, excitement, surprise, and a sense that stakes are high and fortunes both good and bad await. When a player visits the bazaar, the merchant pops up and offers warriors at a certain price. You can press the “Haggle” key and hope that he gives you a better deal. Or he may get offended and shut the door in your face, causing you to waste your turn. Peering into one of those crypts could net you a key or it could drop you into a nest of brigands. And there’s a random plague event, getting lost in the wilderness, a wandering dragon, and a really nifty curse mechanic whereby a wizard lets a player secretly curse another player- when their turn comes up, it just ends. The Dark Tower is always full of surprises.

The computer in the tower tracks everything- from the amount of gold each player has to what keys they have. Some cards are included to manually record the information, but the power of primitive electronics completely controls the game. There’s no dice, either- all random number generation and outcome resolution is handled by the tower’s transistor brain- “electronic wizardry” indeed. So a fight between warriors and brigands means that a player watches as the fight transpires. Good music means that your guys won and killed some brigands. Bad music means your guys suck and you should start cussing.

But you have the option of pushing your luck and keep fighting or you can hit the “Retreat” button. It’s all extremely fun to watch, and the crude music only adds to the laughter and dime store drama. I’ve played games where I swear the tower has a personal vendetta against me- if you think the dice are against you, wait until you get suspicious of this thing.