Discover the Ancient Ways of the Qilin and Their Modern Applications Today
I remember the first time I encountered the mythical qilin in ancient Chinese texts—this magnificent chimera with the body of a deer, tail of an ox, and hooves that supposedly touched ground so gently they wouldn't crush a single blade of grass. What struck me most wasn't just its extraordinary appearance, but the deeper symbolism it carried across centuries of Eastern philosophy. Fast forward to today, and I'm sitting with my gaming group playing Sunderfolk, marveling at how these ancient mythological concepts have found their way into modern digital entertainment in the most unexpected ways. The qilin represented benevolence, wisdom, and protection—qualities that might seem at odds with the combat-heavy gameplay of Sunderfolk, yet somehow the game manages to capture the spirit of strategic harmony that these mythical creatures embodied.
Playing Sunderfolk feels like participating in a digital ritual that somehow channels the ancient wisdom of mythological thinking into contemporary gaming. The unique control scheme—where you watch the action unfold on your TV or monitor while managing your abilities on a mobile device—initially felt disjointed to me, but after about fifteen hours of gameplay across multiple sessions, I've come to appreciate how this division of attention mirrors the qilin's legendary ability to perceive both the physical and spiritual realms simultaneously. There's something profoundly interesting about looking down at your phone to select from your hero's unique ability cards while simultaneously tracking the battlefield on the larger screen. It creates a cognitive experience that's unlike any other game I've played recently, demanding a kind of mental multitasking that reminds me of the qilin's supposed ability to walk between worlds.
The combat system, while fundamentally centered on eliminating enemies, incorporates strategic elements that echo the qilin's protective nature. I've noticed that even when missions include secondary objectives like defending positions or protecting allies, the game mechanics encourage a thoughtful approach rather than mindless aggression. During one particularly challenging mission on the medium difficulty setting, our four-player party failed three times before we realized that the key to success wasn't just playing our strongest attack cards, but coordinating them in sequences that created protective formations around our vulnerable ally character. This tactical requirement to think beyond mere offense reflects the qilin's legendary role as a protector of the innocent—a mythological concept translated into gameplay mechanics.
What truly fascinates me about Sunderfolk's design is how it transforms individual actions into collective strategy, much like how ancient myths about creatures like the qilin served to reinforce cultural values about cooperation and social harmony. The turn-based system, where players can discuss and revise their moves before committing to actions, creates this wonderful space for collaborative planning that I've rarely encountered in other tactical games. I've found myself in situations where we've spent nearly ten minutes debating the optimal sequence of just four cards between our party members, and the game's flexible turn structure allows for this kind of strategic deliberation without penalty. There's a beautiful tension once someone begins their turn—the other players are locked out from acting, but the ability to backtrack until movement or attacks are finalized preserves that collaborative spirit.
The card-based ability system deserves special mention because it's where I see the clearest parallel to the qilin's mythological attributes. Each hero's unique deck of abilities, displayed as cards on personal devices, functions like a modern interpretation of the qilin's legendary powers—from protective barriers that recall the creature's reputed ability to ward off evil to healing capabilities that mirror its benevolent nature. In my experience playing as the "Stone Guardian" character, I've particularly enjoyed how his defensive cards create zones of protection that directly echo the qilin's role as a guardian figure in traditional folklore. The tactile satisfaction of mapping movements and selecting targets via touchscreen adds a physical dimension to this mythological connection that I find incredibly engaging.
Having played through approximately 70% of Sunderfolk's campaign across various difficulty levels, I can confidently say that the game's strategic depth truly shines when you move beyond the easiest setting. The lower difficulty allows you to play cards somewhat randomly and still succeed, but medium and hard difficulties—which I estimate require at least 60-80% card combination efficiency to progress—force the kind of coordinated planning that makes the experience uniquely rewarding. This escalation in strategic requirement mirrors how mythological understanding deepens with study; just as superficial knowledge of the qilin might focus on its appearance while missing its symbolic significance, playing Sunderfolk on easy mode misses the profound strategic harmony the game can offer.
The social dynamics that emerge during gameplay consistently remind me of how ancient myths functioned as communal property, constantly reshaped through collective retelling. Sunderfolk's requirement for verbal coordination—especially when facing enemies that typically outnumber your party by what feels like a 3:1 ratio on higher difficulties—creates these emergent storytelling moments that linger in memory long after the session ends. I recall one particularly dramatic mission where our party managed to overcome what seemed like certain defeat by perfectly timing our card sequences after twenty minutes of careful planning, creating a narrative moment that felt worthy of inclusion in mythological annals themselves.
As someone who has studied both mythology and game design, I'm convinced that Sunderfolk represents a fascinating evolution in how ancient concepts can find new life in digital formats. The game doesn't simply use mythological creatures as decorative elements but integrates their core symbolic functions into its very mechanics. The qilin's historical role as a benevolent protector that appeared during the reigns of wise leaders translates into gameplay that rewards protective strategies and wise coordination over brute force. This isn't just another tactical RPG—it's a thoughtful reimagining of mythological principles through interactive systems.
After countless hours with Sunderfolk, I've come to appreciate how its unique blend of individual device interaction and shared visual experience creates a new paradigm for collaborative gaming that honors the communal spirit of ancient mythology while leveraging contemporary technology. The game has sold approximately 850,000 copies since its release last year, suggesting that this innovative approach resonates with modern audiences perhaps more than traditional gaming formats. Just as the qilin legend adapted across centuries while retaining its core meaning, Sunderfolk demonstrates how ancient wisdom can inform modern entertainment in surprisingly relevant ways, creating experiences that satisfy both our strategic instincts and our deeper longing for meaningful connection.