THE KING IS WATCHING

Hubert Spala
17 minutes ago
5 min read

There’s something almost regal about a game that builds its entire identity around a single, clever idea – and then fully commits to it. THE KING IS WATCHING is exactly that kind of game. A base-building roguelike that doesn’t just ask you to multitask, but to literally keep your royal eyes on the prize. Because here, your buildings only work when the King’s gaze rests upon them.

It sounds simple, almost gimmicky. But what begins as a neat little twist quickly reveals itself as a stroke of mechanical brilliance. Most base-building games share the same rhythm – an early scramble for resources, followed by a cozy plateau of self-sufficiency where you can safely sit back and watch numbers go up. Not here. This game doesn’t allow you to be passive. You can’t just build a lumber mill and expect it to chop trees on its own. You have to look at it. Literally. The King’s gaze fuels your kingdom’s heartbeat – buildings only operate when under watch. If you want iron, your eyes better be on the mine. If you want soldiers, keep that regal stare fixed on the barracks. If you want to generate spells or special building abilities, your gaze is your scepter.

And that one rule – that singular restriction – changes everything. Suddenly, the game transforms from a comfy fantasy town sim into a frantic, twitchy dance of priorities. You’re constantly shifting your gaze between mines, farms, towers, and training grounds, trying to squeeze as much production as possible out of every second. The tension is relentless. Because while you’re busy managing your economy, the enemy doesn’t wait politely. They’re coming, wave after wave, crashing against your walls with increasing ferocity.

It might look a little overwhelming at first, but trust me - everything is laid down cleanly and gives you every necessary tool and bit of info you need on hand.

This makes THE KING IS WATCHING one of the most dynamic base-builders I’ve ever played. Every few moments, you’re making a choice: do you gather resources to expand your economy, or hover over spell brewing buildings to keep yourself ready for the next battle? Do you refocus your gaze on gold production to prepare for buying out the next gaze size expansion, or opt to scrounge rarer resources in anticipation of a more elite unit to be spawnable next time? There’s no autopilot here – you are always doing, and the game never lets you forget it.

Placement matters, too. Your castle sits on a small grid, and where you choose to place your buildings can make or break a run. You’ll quickly realize that putting morale boosters near unit production centers can create life-saving synergies – but if you isolate them from resource nodes, you’ll starve your army mid-fight with a beefy boss. It’s a tight puzzle of logistics and timing, and the way the game encourages that balance feels downright elegant. Every square on the grid is a potential advantage or a fatal mistake. Add to that specific tile modifiers, and you have a proper conundrum on your head.

But the brilliance doesn’t stop there. There’s a whole layer of strategic agency built into how you face your enemies. At the start of each in-game month, you receive a prophecy – essentially a tool for crafting your own doom. You get to decide what kind of enemies you’ll face and what rewards they’ll yield. Feeling cautious? Pick smaller, weaker waves for meager loot. Feeling confident? Summon a hellstorm of elite enemies and pray your army doesn’t crumble in exchange for massive rewards. It’s a self-inflicted challenge system that turns every run into a personalized test of greed versus survival.

There are plenty of in-game events to add a bit of wacky lore as well as some much-needed bonuses.

And those rewards matter, because this game doesn’t hand you anything for free. Buildings are not infinite. Each structure you raise consumes a “card” from your limited deck of blueprints, and once you’ve placed them all, that’s it. If you don’t earn new cards through prophecies or the end-of-month shop, you’ll find yourself staring at an empty hand and a crumbling kingdom. It’s a wonderfully cruel design – your empire literally runs out of ideas unless you earn the right to dream bigger.

Between a set of waves, you can spend your hard-earned spoils on all manner of upgrades and relics. These range from small production buffs to wild, run-defining modifiers. Maybe you’ll grab a relic that boosts all resource generation under your gaze, or one that refunds a bit of gold every time an enemy dies. There are permanent upgrades too – new kings to unlock, stronger structures to add to your deck, and new spells to unleash when things get dire. The meta-progression is robust, if a little punishing to acquire.

That’s perhaps the only sore spot here: THE KING IS WATCHING is a grind. Not just your regular “one more run” kind of grind, but the slow, monastic kind. After a strong run, you’ll probably afford a single upgrade, maybe two if you’re lucky. Each new building or king costs a mountain of currency, and considering that runs can easily stretch past an hour, the game’s pace of long-term progression borders on brutal. It’s not quite unfair – the core loop is so good you want to keep playing – but there’s a point where it starts to feel like the game is testing your devotion rather than your skill.

Still, when the loop works, it really works. Few roguelikes manage to blend so much moment-to-moment engagement with long-term strategy. You can build your kingdom around spellcasting, focusing your gaze on arcane towers that churn out destruction. You can go the swarm route, filling your kingdom with cheap units that flood the battlefield, supported by relics that make their deaths explode in fireworks of resource gain. Or you can turtle up, building walls and Tesla towers, surviving on sheer stubborn defense until your economy snowballs into a fortress of prosperity. Every run feels different because the game’s systems are so interwoven with your choices – and your literal field of view.

Diversify your run with a selection of counselors, each bringing their unique empowering twist to your run.

Visually, the game is a joy. The pixel art is polished, full of small comedic touches that give the world a lighthearted charm. Knights charging on giant geese, pumpkin-headed warriors, and eccentric advisors all lend the game a tone that balances intensity with levity. It’s one of those titles that manages to look “retro” while still feeling crisp and modern. The soundtrack matches the vibe perfectly – playful yet regal, a mix of courtly fanfare and jaunty battle tunes that make every moment of frantic gazing feel like you’re conducting a royal orchestra of chaos.

And maybe that’s the best way to describe it: organized chaos. THE KING IS WATCHING demands your attention, punishes your distraction, and rewards your adaptability. It’s a roguelike that constantly asks, “Where should your eyes be right now?” – and the answer changes every few seconds. There’s a delicious tension between control and overwhelm, strategy and panic, that makes every run thrilling. If there’s one thing this game proves, it’s that sometimes all you need for greatness is one simple rule, executed to perfection. Watching your buildings might sound like a silly gimmick on paper, but in practice, it creates an entire ecosystem of tension, rhythm, and agency that few other roguelikes can match.

Yes, the grind is real. Yes, you’ll probably curse the King’s accountant for charging absurd amounts of gold for that next shiny unlock. But even after the frustration fades, you’ll still come back, ready to stare once more at your kingdom – eyes locked, crown tilted, and heart racing as another wave approaches. Because in THE KING IS WATCHING, if you blink, your empire dies. And honestly? That’s what makes it so damn good.