The design, manufacturing and publishing journey with my latest tabletop puzzle game Herd pretty much mirrors the story of the two Shepherds and seven Sheep, the small Grey Family that is central to the game. We both had to embark on a long and uncertain quest – for me, to actually make a proper board game after a series of relatively-easy-to-publish gamebooks – for the Grey Family, to find their home in the landscape of difficult sliding puzzles. We both struggled along the way, but ended our paths victorious.

Now, I debated with myself whether I should put on my marketing face and describe Herd as the bestest of all my works, to be a good businessman, but I want to write this design diary sincerely: I think that Herd is my most flawed game so far. Its pace is hiccuppy, its difficulty probably too high; there aren't many rules, but it's still easy to forget them, misplay them, misinterpret. It stings me deeply that the final Shepherd figurines don't stack quite as nicely onto each other as they should after so many tweaks and test prints to make them feel right.

But I also think Herd carries the most beautiful and courageous heart of all of my stuff. I imagined a thing back in August 2023 and plucked it out of my subconscious pretty much unaltered – with many kind people who helped realise it along the way – slamming it onto the table as a heavy board game box in December 2025. There’s something special about opening it and revealing a large, illustrated book, placing the cute, candy-like miniatures on the pages and clacking them together. It has a singular quality to it, like my good friend Ferran Ruiz Sala messaged me after receiving the playtesting build: “Something that very much could not exist, yet it does.” It also has my favourite secret of all the meta stuff I made so far.

I see the development of Herd as two parallel stories: the one about figurines and the one about the idea. As backwards as it seems, I want to start with how the playing pieces came into the world and leave the actual inspirations, motivations, story and design decisions for part two of this diary – I think it’s important we understand the physicality of the game before learning how it affected the development.

STORY ABOUT FIGURINES

This is a tale about a group of people I encountered during development that made the game more than a sum of its parts. I’m a guy in Slovenia, most of the time in front of a computer, and my skills are mostly in the graphic and thinky spheres – I easily get ideas and I know how to draw them and that’s it. For the core components, the figurines, I needed help.

I started on my own, amateurish, making crude figurines out of playdough clay. They worked relatively OK for my own use, but I knew I couldn’t share the prototype files with the folks on my channels without at least offering some alternative for the proxied pieces. So I designed paper figurines that could be cut and glued out of paper – and uploaded the files to my site.

Pretty soon, Vojta Karen, a fellow Slav from the Czech Republic, appeared on my Discord channel and messaged me (paraphrased): “Hey, about that work in progress you shared – I made the figurine models. Here.” Vojta referenced my illustration of the pieces on the cover page of the prototype PDF  – this was my dream representation of them – and put together 3d printing files. He also added an essential element to the single Sheep pieces, the one that I still admire to this day: bases on the bottoms, so you could nicely and easily stack Shepherds onto them, still seeing them both (my first idea was to have the Sheep baseless, hidden underneath the Shepherds when stacked).

Also shout out to Marko Žagar, a fellow countryman from the Slovenian coast, who 3d printed Vojta’s first models for me, later also assisting me in the purchase of a resin printer of my own. The figurines immediately felt right, stacking and sliding perfectly, so I started working with Vojta, tweaking the designs, changing faces on them. You can read more about our collaboration from Vojta’s viewpoint on his blog: https://vojta.karen.plus/2025-11-25-designing-figures-for-herd/

The more time I invested into Herd, the more I started realising that, hey, I actually want to pull off this thing. Sure, I have the figurine designs – but can I manufacture them on a larger scale, for this game to be an actual product? When I checked out the prices of injection tools in Slovenia, I was dropped on my ass. So for a while, I was sure that Herd would be either a strictly print-and-play project, or that it would be available in a very primitive, streamlined version. I considered having flat discs, made either out of plexi-glass or wood, or even cardboard cutouts.

Luck smiled at me at Na Meji Nevidnega convention (biggest fantasy convention in Slovenia). A friend introduced me to a small and passionate company from Ljubljana that used silicone molds for their plastic injections, instead of metal ones. This considerably lowered the price of the tools and made smaller sets more much viable. I was immediately on board – a Slovenian group of young fantasy lovers that made gaming figurines for an accessible price?! – we shaked hands and I was locked in, working on the game in full speed.

For the packaging itself, I also went through several stages, slowly working towards the realisation that I'll need a proper gamebox. At first, I considered just putting a packet of figurines together with the book into a bubbled envelope – this is how I shipped all my previous puzzle books and I thought that it would be enough for Herd as well. However, I quickly came to senses: Herd must be one thing, one packaged thing, holding several components inside of it. So then I considered using a cloth bag, but ordering a few possible candidates from Slovenian sewing shops and fitting in the book prototype, I quickly understood that anything other than a box would damage the covers – after series of small A6 puzzle booklets, Herd's book was a big beast, more exposed to overbending and wrinkling. An associate from a local game store also outright said they usually reject games that don't have proper packaging and that it's worth to invest into one.

I inquired with my friend Dušan, whose print shop has been putting together all my puzzle books in the last couple of years, for the book, the box and final assembly into shrink wrap. He's known as a person of word and dedication, doing it for the love of the game. The price still punched me in the gut – there's only so much you can save on expenses when you need a custom sized, thick, lushly assembled board game box, not to mention the discrepancy between the components which demanded an inclusion of an insert: the book is flat and wide, while the figurines are high no matter how much you mush them together. The box was actually the costliest part of the assembly, in comparison with the book and the pieces.

A few months have passed and in the mean time, I finished the main design, illustrations and the puzzles. I considered Herd as content-done, but I still mulled over the prices, mathing out if I'll survive a flop, searching for the courage in me. I still entertained the thought of not going through with realising the game.

Thankfully, I had a good year, in large thanks to the puzzle book LOK and its digital counterpart, so when I went on a long walk through the villages on the edge of Ljubljana in February 2025, I finally accepted the risk. I decided to put the manufacturing process in motion, envisioning April as the release month. Something about this walk was strange though: I had to wait at the roadblock for a train to cross my path two times in a row. Part of me, which is superstitious, whispered: »You'll have to wait for Herd to be finished a bit longer than you think.«

With Dušan, it went smooth as always. We had a few back and forths about the sizes and at the end of March, he showed me the finished boxes and books. They were absolutely wonderful. Books had the correct feel and weight, paper texture rough enough to allow for both pencil marks and smooth sliding of the figures. Boxes... Well, boxes were worth their price. When I first saw them, something in my monkey brain lit up in a similar way as 11 years ago, when I was playing music in a steamy Ljubljana club at 4 AM (it was one of my first proper concerts as an electronica musician, in those days accompanied by a live drummer), when I thought to myself: »I created this melody and now I'm playing it and it's this real thing, shared with 200 drunk people.« It was such an ecstatic feeling, pure joy of seeing the result of creation. In the same way as I saw the journey done from my modest board game designer beginnings in 2018 to the Herd box I held in my hand, just pure joy.

So, a thousand boxes and thousand books were done in time.

With the figurine company though... At first, it went great, we discussed the details, set the deadline, went over some production limitations – such as the plastic grains, which they'd melt for injections, being slightly yellow, which would be visible on the white Sheep – I accepted the yellowish hue and incorporated it into the mock-up 3d models which Vojta rendered for the back cover. However, when it came to the process itself, there were delays. I don't want to be spiteful and air too much dirty laundry in public, as I believe they had the best intentions in their mind, but they overestimated and oversold their capabilities and commitment. 2 months after the deadline, they still had nothing to show, so we came to a mutual understanding and severed our partership.

It was end of May and I had boxes and books done, but no figures. I knew that the price for the silicone-moulded pieces was too good to be true, at least within the bounds of Slovenia, where at most 5 proper board games are produced per year. Frantically looking for alternatives, I briefly considered working with a filament 3d printing company in Ljubljana, but to be frank, filament simply looks cheap to me in the context of a professional product.

So I started contacting companies in China. I was afraid of working with manufacturers abroad, it felt like the »grown-ups game«, especially in terms of how to even transport the goods to me. Panic and tiredness permeated those days. I felt like each decision carried the threat of huge unpredictable costs and complications, without anyone to advise me, to share their know-how (my dayjob as a theatre composer was also intense during that period, which didn't help). Dušan kindly warehoused the books and boxes, as I haggled with different factories, finally settling with Eastar Games Manufacturing.

Looking back, I'm glad that I was initially wooed by the idea of producing a whole board game within our tiny Slovenia, because the first figure production falling apart forced me into working outside my comfort zone. Going with Chinese manufacturing was of course the correct decision, not just in terms of solving the Herd problem, but also for my small publishing company's future – I had to learn how to optimise the assembly aspect and Chinese factories are simply cheaper, better and more knowledgable.

This was proven in the first few days of collaboration with Eastar. They were immediately professional: organising testing for European and American certificates; pointing out possible complications that could arise from the thickness of original Vojta's models. ABS plastic can be unpredictable and produce flow marks, if the thickness of pieces exceeds 2 mm, so they hollowed out the Sheep, making them two-part (to be glued together in post-production), and added prongs to the insides of Shepherds to assist with stacking.

The downside of working with Eastar was the prolonged timeline. End of October, they said. So I conceded and decided to stop worrying, to put my anxious mind to rest, to not think about Herd for a while, while they worked their process. I was still pleasantly surprised by each email and test package I got from the factory. Workworkwork, a puzzle book I accidentally conceived and almost finished during the bad periods of Herd's development in 2024, became my priority. I put in an additional month of work, completed the game and released it in June. I still think Workworkwork is my most mature design, even though I made it almost too quickly. You can read more about its creation in its design diary: https://letibus.itch.io/www/devlog/976071/design-diary-workworkworking-on-workworkwork

October came and figurines were done. Eastar sent five big bags with six thousand small Shepherds and Sheep across the world. Anxiety started creeping back in – I haven't seriously thought about Herd in a while now and all my fears and disappointments about the game came back, getting stronger with each delayed day. It took a whole month for the five packages to finally arrive to my doorstep. I remember how I rushed with the delivered bags into my room, as carefully as possible cutting them open, seeing the figurines spill onto the carpet. The figurines were perfect.

I went on a long walk that day, after counting and confirming all the figurine baggies, to ponder and assess the development journey. I came to the conclusion that I couldn't carry out the translation of the core idea into the real world better than I did – with better people to help me along the way. I simply had to learn new things. Herd Two or any other form of its sibling from the future will probably be better and more streamlined, but only because I had to figure out how to make a physical puzzle board game work from scratch. I never made such a stateful game before – I never worked with miniatures before – never had to figure out how custom processes work, how to conduct a business deal across the ocean.

The playing pieces still had to be assembled into boxes. I left the baggies with Dušan and persisted through three additional weeks of waiting, before he called me with the good news. A thousand Herds were shrink wrapped and ready to be delivered; a large van parked in front of my parents' house, with four overflowing pallets. We carried the boxes into the garage and that was it. I can't pinpoint the exact moment, I almost stumbled over it, but the two plus year long process was suddenly finished and Herd wasn't mine anymore. It's difficult to explain: while it was still in development, even in those last days before the pallets came, anything could happen – the figures could explode – the boxes burn – there was still a possibility I'd have to change the game, adapt it, break apart and construct anew. But now, when the boxes stood still in front of me, beautiful and finished, everything was done on my part. Almost.

Time to click »Publish« on Itch.io and Big Cartel webshops. The initial response was mind-boggling, I saw the first purchases within the first two minutes, without any post yet, just with the game sites being available online. And here we are now, 10 days later, with a third of the first print run already gone – I'm extremely grateful and happy. My mom helps me with packaging and shipping – the first few days were nonstop of taping, cutting, driving to the post office.

Of course, we also need to talk about the financial reality of self-publishing such a game. I took a huge risk and I feel privileged that I could afford it, to be able to count on the modest audience of Letibus Design games. There was a significant aftertaste of shame when I put the games for sale: I felt embarrassed of the prices, but couldn't push them lower without losing money. I'm also bound to self-distribution: I can't offer Herds to gamestores, since I'd go into negative if I'd sell them with the standard industry rebate.

If I'll manage to sell out the first print run, I might look into making the games completely in China, but this opens up more issues with customs – it's something to ship 5 bags with air freight, but something else to boat-transport multiple pallets. I'm still in the »children« league and there is still much to learn. We'll see! For now, I'm happy that Herd is out there and that people are enjoying the game and its production. Thank you all for your support!

In the next part of this design diary, I'll tell the about how I designed the gameplay of Herd. Until then, stay safe!

Blaž