For over two years, I tried to 3D print a modern version of the Royal Game of Ur. This ancient Mesopotamian board game, a beautiful mix of luck and strategy, felt like the perfect project—something that linked the past and the future through the craft of making. I was drawn to the idea of recreating something “made by hand” thousands of years ago, using today’s tools: entry-level 3D printers, some generic filament, and a bit of techie magic. I started off excited. I could see the game in my mind, could almost hear the clatter of dice on the table. But the excitement quickly turned into frustration.
Warping, shifting, adhesion failures, broken pieces—you name it, I ran into it. I tried different files, fiddled with slicer settings, changed techniques, and restarted countless times. There were long stretches where I stepped away, convinced it just wasn’t going to work. But I kept coming back. I reached out for help on Reddit, chatted with folks in Inclusive Bytes, and even got unexpected advice from people who’d seen my struggles and just wanted to help. Eventually, someone suggested trying a different build plate. That was the key. The Bambu A1, a fresh plate, and the quiet support of a community… it all clicked into place. And finally, after all that trial and error, I held a finished copy of the game in my hands. It was beautiful.
What struck me most wasn’t just the physical board—it was the journey. This was more than a printing project. It reminded me that persistence, patience, and a willingness to ask (and receive) help can bring things into the world that once seemed impossible. People have always found joy in creating, in playing, in pushing their tools to their limits—whether those tools are clay and carving knives or slicers and PLA. So if you’re staring at a half-finished project, ready to give up—don’t. Take a breath, ask for help, try again. You might just surprise yourself. I did. And I’m proud I kept going.
