Drop it like it's not (the piece you need right now) Drop Duchy is a deck-building, Tetris-like, Carcassonne-esque puzzler The game layers tile dropping onto worker placement, and stacks up nicely. Kevin Purdy – May 16, 2025 7:30 am | 2 Credit: The Arcade Crew Credit: The Arcade Crew Story text Size Small Standard Large Width * Standard Wide Links Standard Orange * Subscribers only   Learn more When my colleague Kyle Orland submitted Tetrisweeper for a list of Ars' favorite 2024 games not from 2024, I told him, essentially: "Good for you, not for me." I'm a pedestrian Tetris player, at best, so the idea of managing a whole different game mechanic, while trying to clear lines and prevent stack-ups, sounded like taking a standardized test while baking a three-layer cake. And yet, here I am, sneaking rounds of Drop Duchy (Steam, Epic, for Windows/Linux via Proton) into lunch breaks, weekend mornings, and other bits of downtime. Drop Duchy is similarly not just a Tetris-esque block-dropper. It also has you: Aligning terrain types for resources Placing both your troops and the enemy's Choosing which cards to upgrade, sell, and bring into battle Picking between terrain types to leave behind Upgrading a tech tree with achievements Picking the sequence of battles for maximum effectiveness Drop Duchy is a quirky game, one that hasn't entirely fused together its various influences without some seams showing. But I keep returning to it, even as it beats me to a pulp on Normal mode, based on decisions I made five rounds ago. It feels like a medium-deep board game, played at triple speed, with someone across the table timing you on how fast you arrange your tiles. Your standard roguelite deck-builder, Tetris tactics, worker placement game Drop Duchy launch trailer. Allow me to try to describe what is happening in Drop Duchy, ignoring entirely the idea that there is some kind of plot. You start off with three buildings and your enemy's buildings that you must place, mixed into a pile of terrain (plains and forest to start) in Tetris-like shapes. Filling a horizontal line gives you resources (wheat, wood, and stone) from that line but does not clear it. If you build up a big area of plains on your board, you can drop your "Farm" piece in the middle, and it converts those plains into richer plains. Put a "Woodcutter" into a bunch of forest, and it harvests that wood and turns it into plains. Set down a "Watchtower," and it recruits some archer units for every plains tile in its vicinity, and even more for richer fields. You could drop a Woodcutter next to a Farm and Watchtower, and it would turn the forests into plains, the Farm would turn the plains into fields, and the Watchtower would pick up more units for all those rich fields. That kind of multi-effect combo, resulting from one piece you perfectly placed in the nick of time, is what keeps you coming back to Drop Duchy. The bitter losses come from the other side, like realizing you've leaned too heavily into heavy, halberd-wielding units when the enemy has lots of ranged units that are strong against them. Or that feeling, familiar to Tetris vets, that one hasty decision you made 10 rows back has doomed you to the awkward, slanted pile-up you find yourself in now. Except that lines don't clear in Drop Duchy, and the game's boss battles specifically punish you for running out of good places to put things. There's an upper strategic layer to all the which-square-where action. You choose branching paths on your way to each boss, picking different resources, battles, and trading posts. Every victory has you picking a card for your deck, whether military, production, or, later on, general "technology" gains. You upgrade cards using your gathered resources, try to balance or min-max cards toward certain armies or terrains, and try not to lose any one round by too many soldiers. You have a sort of "overall defense" life meter, and each loss chips away at it. Run out of money to refill it, and that's the game. Again: It is not a Tetris clone Every run is a new set of cards that you upgrade, sell, reserve for certain terrain conditions, or wonder why you picked it. The Arcade Crew Every run is a new set of cards that you upgrade, sell, reserve for certain terrain conditions, or wonder why you picked it. The Arcade Crew Upgrading cards is almost always worth it—unless you need to replenish your overall defense. The Arcade Crew Upgrading cards is almost always worth it—unless you need to replenish your overall defense. The Arcade Crew Every run is a new set of cards that you upgrade, sell, reserve for certain terrain conditions, or wonder why you picked it. The Arcade Crew Upgrading cards is almost always worth it—unless you need to replenish your overall defense. The Arcade Crew The path you choose to encounters and trading posts makes a difference in Drop Duchy. The Arcade Crew The path you choose to encounters and trading posts makes a difference in Drop Duchy. The Arcade Crew See that river on the right, the one that would look great if only it could be connected? Welcome to this game. The Arcade Crew See that river on the right, the one that would look great if only it could be connected? Welcome to this game. The Arcade Crew The path you choose to encounters and trading posts makes a difference in Drop Duchy. The Arcade Crew See that river on the right, the one that would look great if only it could be connected? Welcome to this game. The Arcade Crew Drop Duchy feels, moment to moment, triumphalist and unfair, but that is its intended rogue-ish nature. Where I see issues with the game beyond that is in the little stuff. The game plays well on a Steam Deck or other handhelds, but if you have any issues with reading small text on a small screen, Drop Duchy is unforgiving. Many of the buildings look very similar, and the icons and text can be quite small. I feel the most for folks with extensive Tetris experience and muscle memory. Drop Duchy uses some non-standard pieces, like single, double, and three-square corners. And while line clearing is almost always rewarded, it can also work against you, like if an enemy's fort fits a slot, but also grants it lots of troops from the surrounding terrain. Drop Duchy can sometimes feel unbalanced, sometimes a bit unfair. Its bosses will typically require multiple runs before you figure out the right multi-round strategies. The game's many, many mechanics make this a title where I wouldn't blame someone for running the Tutorial round more than once. But, like golf, home repair, or setting up a server, the few times you get a round, or just a line, perfectly right can erase all the hard lessons you had to endure before. I keep finding things in Drop Duchy that seem impossible to overcome, and then I come right back and try it a different way. I think this title will get a few balance fixes, but even before those, it's a good run. Listing image: The Arcade Crew Kevin Purdy Senior Technology Reporter Kevin Purdy Senior Technology Reporter Kevin is a senior technology reporter at Ars Technica, covering open-source software, PC gaming, home automation, repairability, e-bikes, and tech history. He has previously worked at Lifehacker, Wirecutter, iFixit, and Carbon Switch. 2 Comments

Andor‘s final batch of episodes had to walk a steady balancing act, tying together myriad swirling character arcs into the overarching looming shadow of not just the events of Rogue One, but the events of Star Wars itself. In navigating those final climactic days where Andor could be itself as well as the passer of the torch, the show managed to give us and its characters alike the endings that perhaps mattered most. Luthen © Lucasfilm It’s impossible to talk about the final arc of Andor without talking about the ending it gets out of the way first. Luthen’s long-awaited confrontation with Dedra is tragic in many ways, not just because of his choice to sacrifice himself to deny her the information she craves, but because, in contrast to the other rebellious stories we see climax here, it’s so incredibly lonely. There is no grand exit, no long goodbye—he gets a brief moment with Kleya when he sends her away, and of course, Dedra’s attempts to keep him alive make the actual moment of his end occur after the course of episode 10, “Make It Stop.” He dies quietly, he dies unable to really know just what an impact he’s about to have on the people he knew, the people he loved, the Rebellion, and the fate of the galaxy itself. But Luthen’s final moment standing, before he takes the knife to himself, as sad as it is, is also a beautiful one—one that thematically then ties the endings of the rest of the rebels across Andor‘s final act together brilliantly. “The Rebellion isn’t here anymore, it’s flown away,” he tells Dedra. “It’s everywhere now… there’s a whole galaxy out there, waiting to disgust you.” The work Luthen did may have been isolatory by design, playing cells and operatives off each other, the paranoia of all the secrets he helped keep. But as he burns brightly, for that sunrise he knew he’d never see, he is defiantly steadfast that what he has helped create has connected voices all over the galaxy. That there are, as his agents’ code phrase said, friends everywhere. Partagaz and the ISB © Lucasfilm It is this particular thematic throughline sparked by Luthen’s words that also defines the endings of our Imperial antagonists across the arc in stark contrast. We’ll get to Dedra separately, but it’s interesting that the endings we get for Andor‘s ISB apparatus—represented by her, Partagaz, and Heert in these episodes, and to a lesser extent double-agent Lonni—are lonely for very different reasons than Luthen’s was. Syril’s death on Ghorman laid the blueprint here: Andor‘s vision of the Empire is defined in equal parts the abuse of its systems for personal glorification, and the deadly threat of that system subsuming even its most ardent supports and benefactors, because that’s exactly what the Empire is designed to do. Lonni might die at Luthen’s hands, it’s implied, but he dies because his use as a tool of the system he’d turned on is over. Heert’s grand chase of Kleya—a mirror to Dedra’s obsession with Axis that he’d sneered at her for—is rewarded with K2 tossing his lifeless body around as a meatshield, crumpled and forgotten. Partagaz’s is perhaps the most deliciously bitter, not just for the system he helped create crashing down around him, but because, again, his final moments are spent realizing that the rebellion is so much bigger than the “disease” he thought he could contain and sterilize. He’s alone in a room, committing suicide, after hearing Nemik’s manifesto: he has no idea who it is. He just knows, again, that it’s getting out everywhere. Kleya © Lucasfilm Kleya’s end is not so much an end, but a continuation of a legacy that she’s followed her whole life. Luthen’s sacrifice gives her a chance to flee and tell the Rebellion about the Death Star, but it also pushes her out from under his lonely world of cloak and daggers, in a way. In the flashbacks that are woven throughout her solo mission to lay Luthen to rest before the Empire can pull him from the brink, we see her story start alone and afraid and angry—and in choosing to save this orphaned child and help her point that anger somewhere as she grows up, Luthen’s final gift to Kleya is to give her something bigger to be part of. Perhaps it’s a story we’ll revisit someday, of Kleya’s life in the Rebellion, but in this moment that set of facts doesn’t really matter, it’s that she gets to carry on his spirit as the Rebellion flourishes. Dedra © Lucasfilm It’s fitting and so telling then, that Kleya and Dedra’s final moments on-screen in Andor are side-by-side. If Kleya wakes up to on the new dawn of being part of the thing her mentor helped build, then Dedra—clad in those white-and-orange scrubs of the Imperial prison system—is to witness the structure that she helped build and champion chew her up and spit her out into some forgotten hole. We know from season one’s arc on Narkina-5 that the Empire has now designed these facilities to never really grant freedom. There’s a fascinating parallel to Syril’s own death in her ultimate punishment, the idea that her obsession with Axis, as his was with Cassian, pushed her and pushed her to a point where the Empire itself could turn on her and discard her, and she’d be too blinkered to notice it until it was too late. It’s not just that Dedra’s hoarding of information she shouldn’t have lands her in Krennic’s crosshairs, it’s her drive to get Luthen, to keep him alive once he mortally wounds himself, in the hopes that she will be rewarded regardless of any transgression she’s made to get there. That the Imperial system she believed in will work for her, rather than her for it. But the Empire exists to consume even its most loyal adherents, and so her punishment for championing it so ardently is as satisfying to watch as it was inevitable. Bix © Lucasfilm If any of Andor‘s endings might prove controversial, it’s perhaps its very last one. In some ways, Bix’s isolation from the final act of Andor (a decision she makes, but one that still takes her out of the broader fight she had previously yearned to be part of), only for her to part the series with the revelation that she’s given birth to Cassian’s child—a child he’ll never know—treats her story as less her own, and more in the service of Cassian’s. But it’s likewise also compelling that Bix is the rare character who ends the series given the chance of peace, of not having to fight and struggle. Many of the journeys that close out Andor are ones that we know will continue, and more specifically that continue in the sense that their fight isn’t over yet. That she is the final vision we have the show feels, in part, that this is what it was all for: to be free to live life with loved ones, a generation that can grow up in the hope that they in turn don’t have to fight and struggle to maintain that peace. Bail Organa © Lucasfilm But wait! Bail Organa’s journey doesn’t end in Andor. He’s in Rogue One! He’s technically in A New Hope, or at least very, very tiny atomized parts of him are! But while those stories are, chronologically speaking, Bail’s last moments in the Star Wars saga, it feels like Andor actually gives the man himself a proper sendoff—more proper than the hasty one he gets in Rogue One to go meet his explosive destiny—in his brief chat with Cassian. It’s short and sweet but laden with meaning, to give Bail a little teeth, and a moment of bonding with Cassian after their initial disagreements. We don’t ever get to see Bail’s final moments from his own perspective on screen (they’re retold, if you’re interested, in the From a Certain Point of View anthology), but giving him a goal to go out swinging feels like a fitting coda. The Stories Left Untold © Lucasfilm But for all the above stories that Andor wraps up in its last act, there’s just as many—and it’s just as important—that it leaves so many paths open. There’s characters we just simply don’t see again, like Leida after her wedding, or even further flung characters like Kino Loy from season one. There’s characters for who the story just continues elsewhere, like Cassian and K2 themselves, or Mon Mothma, last seen chatting to Vel amid the hubbub of Yavin IV, or Saw, staring down the Imperial occupation of Jedha. Some of these are famous Star Wars figures, and we know where they end up, but just as important is getting flashes like Wilmon and Dreena sharing food, or, in a grimly hilarious fashion, a drunken Perrin hanging off the arm of Davro Sculden’s wife. Perhaps most fitting then is an end we glimpse, but never get: when Cassian wakes from his slumber to go on his mission to Kafrene, he dreams of his long-missing sister. Andor‘s first major story thread, the focus of its opening scenes to put this whole story into motion, never gets resolved. Some people may be frustrated by that, in an age when Star Wars fans and Star Wars itself, at times, is obsessed with checking off the facts and details of its world. But we get everything we need to know: Cassian still thinks about her. He dies never getting the answer. We will, perhaps rightfully, never learn ourselves. Not all ends definitively. Life goes on. Even as we know the broad strokes of what’s about to go down in this moment in Star Wars, some answers are just never found. But there’s a whole texture of existence beneath that sweeping saga and those big questions, and that’s what Andor was always reminding us of. Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, what’s next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.

Federal agencies scrambled to bring back over $220 million worth of contracts after Elon Musk's so-called Department of Government Efficiency cancelled them, .However, of those 44 contracts that were cancelled and eventually reinstated, DOGE is still citing all but one of them as examples of the government spending the group supposedly saved on its website's error-plagued "Wall of Receipts." The White House told the NYT that this is "paperwork lag" that will be fixed.Clerical errors or not, the "zombie contracts" are a damning sign of the chaos sowed by the billionaire's hasty and sweeping cost-cutting that would seem antithetical to its stated goals of efficiency."They should have used a scalpel," Rachel Dinkes of the Knowledge Alliance, an association of education companies that includes one that lost a contract, told the NYT. "But instead they went in with an axe and chopped it all down." Musk brought the Silicon Valley ethos of "move fast and break things" he uses at his business ventures, like SpaceX, to his cleaning house of the federal government. And this, it seems, resulted in a lot of wasted time and effort.Some of the contracts DOGE cancelled were required by law, according to the NYT, and some were for skills that the government needed but didn't have. The whiplash was most felt at the Department of Veterans Affairs, which reversed 16 cancelled contracts — the highest of any agency in the NYT's analysis.Many of the contracts that DOGE cancelled were reinstated almost immediately. The Environmental Protection Agency, for example, revived a contract just two and a half hours after Musk's team cancelled it, the paper found. Others were brought back within days.After losing a contract with the US Department of Agriculture in February, Raquel Romero and her husband gained it back four days later. The USDA told the NYT that it reinstated the contract after discovering that it was "required by statute," but declined to specify which one. Romero believes that a senior lawyer at the agency, who was a supporter of the couple's work, intervened on their behalf."All I know is, she retired two weeks later," Romero told the NYT.The waste doesn't end there. Since the contracts are necessary, it puts the fired contractors in a stronger bargaining position when the government comes crawling back. In the case of the EPA contract, the agency agreed to pay $171,000 more than before the cancellation. In other words, these cuts are costing, not saving, the government money.A White House spokesperson, however, tried to spin the flurry of reversals as a positive sign that the agencies are complying with Musk's chaotic directions, while also playing down the misleading savings claims on DOGE's website."The DOGE Wall of Receipts provides the latest and most accurate information following a thorough assessment, which takes time," White House spokesman Harrison Fields told the NYT. "Updates to the DOGE savings page will continue to be made promptly, and departments and agencies will keep highlighting the massive savings DOGE is achieving."Harrison also called the over $220 million of zombie contracts "very, very small potatoes" compared to the supposed $165 billion Musk has saved American taxpayers.If this latest analysis is any indication, however, that multibillion-dollar sum warrants significant skepticism. We're only beginning to see a glimmer of the true fallout from Musk tornadoing through the federal government.Share This Article