Some years ago, I "stepped out" with a young lady whose career path led ultimately to glamour modelling and "Page 3" fame. Naturally enough, I deserve kudos for this if only for the torment it put me through. Yes, she looked fantastic, and also knew both her names (professional and birth). But could she spell them? I don't think so, and I didn't bother asking. It would have been too complicated. Sexist? Absolutely, but only in her case. Why do I raise this now? Well, if nothing else, it was a case of style over substance, and it was a lesson I digested even if I did not strictly adhere to.

And why would I be dragging poor Doris Matthäus (and Frank Nestel) into this narrative?. Well, I am more than ever convinced that to succeed commercially as a purveyor of boardgames, the look must match the content. Poor visuals can kill an excellent design, or at least restrict it to the "specialist" section (basement). Of course, the opposite is also true. The giant box with oodles of bits more often disappoints than not. And just remember why you were attracted in the first place.

But back to Doris and Frank. Doris's artistic endeavours for a host of companies have provided the pre-eminent work in the games industry. I need only offer Elfenroads and Euphrat & Tigris for confirmation. So, we've got the artist, but is the game up to scratch? The school of thought that has consigned Doris and Frank to the "card game specialists" dump bin are palpably wrong. 1994's Fugger, Welser, Medici presented a brilliant trading mechanism, the view of which was clouded by cries of "takes too long". Well, how long do you want it to take? Would you walk out in the middle of the movie 'The Ten Commandments', once Moses had proclaimed "Thou shall not steal (unless it's to your advantage)"? Of course not. Furthermore, F,W,M offered three distinct scenarios. If you wanted to play for a couple of hours, you could, and to a satisfactory conclusion. The same applies to Ursuppe. Yes, it can take upwards of three hours (and almost certainly will first time out), but it can be curtailed at ANY point on the leader board, thanks to the clever scoring mechanism. Once the rule book has been fully digested, Ursuppe can be completed in between one and two hours. So there.

Ursuppe (Primeval Soup) falls firmly in the regimented German design school, with a rigid turn mechanism in which you need to "adapt or die". The theory? Maintaining the survival and subsequent development of your Amoeba. How? Read on.

Each round comprises six phases. Firstly the Amoeba move and feed. They may drift (at no cost) or you roll a die (cost -- one Biological Point (BP)) and trust the compass (1=west, 2=north, etc, with a 6 providing a free choice, and a 5 meaning that the Amoeba remains where it is). To feed, the Amoeba must digest three cubes (one of each colour other than your own). If any fail to achieve this, then they are marked with a damage point. Two of these and you're "dead". They then excrete, leaving behind two cubes of your own colour.

The second phase prompts an adjustment on the compass (Environment Card) and a survival check, whereby points on the Gene Cards are totalled and matched with the number on the new Environment Card. If you exceed this number, you must either dispose of Gene Cards or lose BPs.

The crucial third stanza allows for the "purchase" (by BPs) of Gene Cards. These ultimately dictate the course of play, offering almost limitless possibilities from extra moves through to protection in combat. For me, balancing action cards has always seemed the most difficult objective to attain in game development. Ursuppe offers perfect symmetry and that tantalising "to buy or not" option prevalent in great designs.

Next comes "divvy up" time. Each player receives 10 BPs, which can be used to "divide" Amoeba (place additional markers on the board at six BPs a pop). This is Ursuppe's ultimate quandary, to "divide" or save for the invaluable cards.

Shed not a tear in the penultimate stage, when those Amoeba with two damage points are removed. Personal attachment to these useless blobs is psychologically dangerous. You will quickly find that they are expendable as the fight against extinction gets decidedly competitive. Their death, however, is not in vain, as they are replaced by the very same foodstuff (coloured cubes) that was initially placed on every square on the board.

Scoring completes the round. The number of spaces to be moved is determined by the number of surviving Amoeba and the number of Gene Cards each player has. And then, in a nifty tweak, markers are moved counting only the VACANT spaces on the scoring ladder. Playing catch up is far from futile and you may be surprised at the ever-changing position. The winner will be the player furthest into the dark zone at the end of the track once someone has got this far. Alternatively, the game also ends when the last of the 11 Environmemt Cards is revealed. You might also agree to conclude a particularly aggressive game at any point on the track, or if someone has forged too far ahead.

Ursuppe allows the passive, assertive or downright belligerent to plot their own course or downfall and the variety of Gene Cards permits a pre-determined tactical plan. If you fight, be prepared to take losses. Acting the dunce will attract predators, whilst the truculent will attract the wrath of their fellow participants (all of them).

And it almost goes without saying that for looks and content Ursuppe is almost unparalled -- only the best of Avalon Hill and Hans im Glück stand comparison.