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Kim Muntinga
Review

A card-based drama on the pitch: why Nutmeg! is struggling to get off the bench

Kim Muntinga
31/3/2026
Translation: Patrik Stainbrook
Pictures: Kim Muntinga

As a veteran of football management games, I know what the genre is capable of. Nutmeg! shows what happens when a bold idea falls short due to a lack of depth and an overreliance on RNG.

I grew up playing football management games. From the glory days of Anstoss (= kick-off) and Bundesliga Manager, through EA’s fancy FIFA Manager series, all the way to the data-driven frenzy of Sega’s Football Manager. I’ve played them all. It was always about control: understanding numbers, building and optimising systems and planning better than the competition.

And now comes Nutmeg!

A game where I suddenly start drawing cards.

Things begin as usual: a small club with big ambitions. But instead of fine-tuning my tactics, I find myself holding boost cards and quickly realise that it’s no longer just my planning that matters. I also have to adapt to what the game throws at me in the moment.

It’s surprising and confusing. Partly also because I actually like deck-building games. Build combos, discover synergies, I know how to do that. But in a football manager, this element feels different.

Unfamiliar, strange and sometimes just plain wrong.

This overview provides a quick look at your roster, schedule and goals for the current season.
This overview provides a quick look at your roster, schedule and goals for the current season.

An instantly captivating office

But before I get to my frustrations, I need to talk about the office. It’s the best thing Nutmeg! has to offer.

I sit at a desk that looks like someone plucked it straight from an English football club from the ’80s or ’90s. CRT monitor, rotary-dial telephone, Rolodex. When I turn on the TV in the corner, it displays the league standings and brief news updates via ticker. The player cards look just like real collectible stickers: rough, colourful, and delightfully exaggerated.

A workspace straight out of the 1980s, designed with care and attention to detail.
A workspace straight out of the 1980s, designed with care and attention to detail.

I sat in that office and smiled. Really. This isn’t just a retro label that’s been slapped on, nor is it a nostalgic marketing gimmick. This was built by people who love that era themselves. I can feel it in every detail: the font on player cards, the sound of the phone, the Easter eggs I discover when I look closer. As someone who grew up playing the original «Anstoss» and knows what it’s like to start your season with a lower-division club, this office really spoke to me right away.

But then I open the practice plan and my smile fades.

A system that let me down

Here’s how the core mechanic in Nutmeg! works: I choose how my team practises during the week and that determines which cards are available to me on game day. Conditioning training provides endurance cards, while a balanced workout generates combination cards for the offence, defence and goalkeeper. It’s a solid idea in theory, I want my assistant coaches to make their presence felt on the field. Not in tactical menus, but through preparation.

I earn cards for my games through practice.
I earn cards for my games through practice.

The problem: Nutmeg! doesn’t explain this to me. The tutorial just skims the surface – click here, click there, done – and then I’m left on my own with a practice plan I can’t decipher or predict. At the same time, the menu is extremely minimal. I can’t really tell how my players are improving.

Player stats are visible, but it’s still largely unclear how my team’s improving or playing together.
Player stats are visible, but it’s still largely unclear how my team’s improving or playing together.
The lack of data limits any sense of depth.
The lack of data limits any sense of depth.

I also ask myself: «How do I build a deck that actually works during a match? Also, when and how do I get access to interesting bonus cards?» Currently, the latter can only be achieved by completing to-dos within three months. For example, I’m supposed to hire an assistant coach or sign a new goalkeeper. A month, in turn, consists of five games. But the game just doesn’t appeal to me enough, and it’s too minimalist in the areas that matter most to me. I love developing players and fine-tuning my tactics.

Same goes for the transfer market. Players appear and vanish in ways I can’t predict. Time and again, I sit in front of the screen and wonder why someone I just scouted is suddenly no longer available. On top of that, there’s always only a very limited pool of players, and once an offer is rejected they’re no longer available.

Limited selection, limited transparency: the transfer market feels random.
Limited selection, limited transparency: the transfer market feels random.

The game features real football players from that era. All of their careers start in 1980 and last 20 years. Gordon Strachan, Vinnie Jones and others make an appearance. It’s certainly appealing, no question about it. But here too, the system lacks the transparency I need to make genuine strategic decisions. I make random choices too often.

When game day becomes a card battle

On game day, my preparations turn into a deck of cards. I can choose from three formations for the match – 4-4-2, 4-3-3, and 5-3-2 – along with three tactical approaches: hold position, press forward and drop back. Real tactical decisions are few and far between. Instead, I pull a hand of cards and see what I have to work with. Attack, defence, maybe even a special card – or maybe not. Some cards can be combined and enhanced too.

The match unfolds in a few brief, intense moments. An attack begins, the momentum shifts and I decide whether to intervene. Should I play a card now, or should I hold onto it? In doing so, I change the probabilities of whether I’ll block an attack, my goalkeeper makes a save, a pass will succeed or I’ll score a goal.

An attack is underway, but with a 44 per cent success rate, a goal is far from certain.
An attack is underway, but with a 44 per cent success rate, a goal is far from certain.
A single card effect increases the chance of scoring by 40 per cent and can virtually decide the outcome of an attack on its own.
A single card effect increases the chance of scoring by 40 per cent and can virtually decide the outcome of an attack on its own.

This is when Nutmeg! really shines. Unfortunately, these moments are too rare.

In some ways, I’m more involved in the action than in many other management games. When I play the right card at the right moment and my team creates a scoring opportunity from it, it feels surprisingly direct. Almost as if I really did influence the game. It’s in these moments that Nutmeg! shows its true potential.

But that feeling can leave just as quickly.

Because as much as my decisions feel like they’re based on my own judgment, they really depend on what I actually have in my hand. If I draw the right cards, I can control the match. But if I get the wrong ones, I’m pretty much powerless.

After a match, the results, fan reactions and financial data are summarised.
After a match, the results, fan reactions and financial data are summarised.

I just sit there, watching my team come under pressure, and I simply don’t have the right answer. Not because I made the wrong decisions, but because I don’t have enough options. In these moments, the game prevents me from reacting at all.

Seasons that don’t suck me in

A season in Nutmeg! flies by. In about 60 minutes, I’ve gone through an entire cycle. It keeps things moving, but it just never grips me.

Because despite the speed, there’s no real long-term motivation. Progress rarely feels like it lasts; developments are too gradual to really take hold. I keep playing, but without a feeling that I’m working toward something.

Add to that the limited game world. Nutmeg! focuses exclusively on English football (which I find extremely boring) and even then only up to Division Four. What initially feels like clear focus quickly turns out to be a limiting factor. There’s a lack of variety and no new features to get excited for.

My career takes place exclusively in England, and the game quickly loses its diversity as a result. Also, I can only choose one team out of the four available in Division Four at the start.
My career takes place exclusively in England, and the game quickly loses its diversity as a result. Also, I can only choose one team out of the four available in Division Four at the start.

So, after several seasons, one feeling stands out above all others: I’m making progress, but it doesn’t feel like it.

And it’s exactly because Nutmeg! lacks what really drives a football manager: that urge to play one more season or even kick off the next match day.

Nutmeg! A Nostalgic Deckbuilding Football Manager was provided to me by Sumo Digital. The game has been available for PC since 26 March.

In a nutshell

This game struggles with tactical fundamentals

Nutmeg! is one of those games you really want to like. Combining football management with deck-building? Bold, fresh, and, at its best, surprisingly good. When cards combine and a game flips in your favour, it creates exactly the kind of dynamic that classic management games often lack.

But regrettably, these moments are too few and far between to carry the game. It’s all too vague, too much is left to chance. Systems don’t combine smoothly. They also feel oversimplified and, in some cases, even unfinished. The game lacks complexity, a coherent player development arc and tactical depth. Decisions rarely feel like they’ll last. And while the gameplay innovations are meant to add more control, they often result in the opposite.

In the end, this game promises more than it delivers. Nutmeg! has ideas, style and character, but not nearly enough depth and clarity to hold your attention in the long run. The concept works well for short sessions, but it lacks substance to be a fully fledged football management game.

Pro

  • A unique blend of football management and deck-building
  • Retro style with attention to detail

Contra

  • Many systems are too minimalist and superficial
  • Tricky player development and a general lack of tactical depth
  • Limited game world (only England, few leagues)
  • Lack of motivation to keep playing
  • Too much randomness in the gameplay
Header image: Kim Muntinga

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My interests are varied, I just like to enjoy life. Always on the lookout for news about darts, gaming, films and series.


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