MicroMay 2026

23 May 2026

For a long time, crowdfunding was one of those ideas constantly sitting somewhere in the back of my mind. I kept returning to it over the years, thinking about how interesting this whole space really is. Watching projects launch, succeed, fail, grow into massive productions, or quietly disappear. Looking at crowdfunding not only as a way to finance games, but as a very unique part of modern board game culture. And despite all of that, I never actually launched a campaign myself. Until now. As part of Micro May, I finally decided to try it with a few very small projects. And honestly, it already became a much more positive experience than I expected. The campaign was fully funded on the first day, which still feels a little surreal to me.

At the same time, I want to be honest I came into this campaign without huge expectations about numbers or massive success. Of course, every creator dreams about people supporting their work, but for me this campaign was never only about reaching some giant financial goal. I simply wanted to experience crowdfunding from the inside. To understand the process better. To see how people react and to learn what works, what doesn’t, what feels exciting, and what feels stressful. Because I genuinely hope this will not be the last campaign I ever launch. And honestly, Micro May feels like the perfect place for that first step. If you’re not familiar with it, Micro May is a community event focused on small games and microgames, projects that often fit into a pocket, sometimes even onto a single card, but still manage to create memorable experiences. It’s a space where experimentation matters more than scale and where unusual ideas have room to exist and I’ve always loved that philosophy. Maybe because indie creation itself often works exactly like that. You work within limitations, but those limitations force creativity. You stop trying to impress people with size and start focusing more on ideas, interaction, and personality. And in many ways, crowdfunding originally felt very similar to me. At its core, the concept is still incredibly simple and beautiful. A creator has an idea they care about and asks people directly if they want to help make it real. If enough people connect with it, support it, and believe in it, the project exists because of that community and that idea still feels kind of magical to me. Platforms like Kickstarter and Gamefound completely changed the tabletop industry and created opportunities that simply didn’t exist before.

But over time, the space also changed a lot. Many modern campaigns feel less like projects searching for support and more like fully prepared products using crowdfunding as a pre-order platform. Huge campaigns with giant marketing budgets, dozens of expansions, professional trailers, and carefully planned strategies often look almost finished before the campaign even starts.

I understand why this happened and it reduces uncertainty, and helps build trust with backers. Still, I sometimes miss the feeling that a project is alive during the campaign itself. Because for me, the most interesting part of crowdfunding was never just the funding. It was always the feeling of involvement. The idea that people are not simply buying a product, but becoming part of the project while it’s still evolving. That’s something I really want to keep in my own campaigns. I don’t want communication to feel like a formal update page where creators only announce production milestones. I want people to feel comfortable sharing thoughts, reactions, and ideas. Not because every suggestion should completely change the project, but because collaboration itself is part of what makes crowdfunding special. This also connects to how I think about production in general.

One thing I never liked about modern manufacturing not only in board games, but everywhere-is overproduction. Printing huge quantities first and only later trying to figure out how to sell everything. Warehouses full of products, discounts to clear inventory, constant pressure to scale bigger and bigger. As a small indie creator, I don’t really feel connected to that approach. What feels much more interesting to me is producing games that already have an audience before they physically exist. Creating something because people genuinely want it, not because someone predicted large sales numbers in a spreadsheet. Maybe it’s less efficient. Maybe it’s slower. But it also feels much more personal and real. And to be honest, this is one of the biggest advantages of being indie. You can choose your own priorities and you can experiment or stay flexible. You can create smaller projects that simply make you excited instead of constantly chasing scale. For me, that’s still the most inspiring part of crowdfunding. Not treating it only as a sales tool, but as a space where creators and players can build something together from the very beginning.