Dogpile is a Roguelike Deckbuilder that Wants You to Win

Roguelike deckbuilders are often variations of “number go up” but Dogpile deemphasizes that aspect in favor of “dog get big”. The result is worth your attention. 

Dogpile is a merge game where you drop dogs into a rectangular pit known as the yard. Dogs of the same breed merge to become one bigger dog. The physics system causes the dogs to bounce and slide around so you want to be mindful of where you drop them. You repeat this process until you get the biggest dog possible in your yard. The other genre seed is rougelike deckbuilder. You can add traits to your dogs, get rid of them, buy new ones, and pick up cards and tags that affect the gameplay. 

At first glance, you may look at Dogpile’s roguelike deckbuilding elements and be reminded of Balatro: the poker roguelike deckbuilder that took 2024 by storm. The UI is laid out similarly; you have a point goal to reach in a certain number of hands, the dogs are all paired to playing cards (your smallest is an ace, the next is a two, and so on), and completing a run unlocks a new deck with slightly different conditions. But, wisely, this is where the core similarities end. 

There are three standout features that make Dogpile special. 1. Failing to meet your point condition does not end your run. 2. The point is not the points; it’s about getting the biggest dog in your yard. 3. You cull and modify your deck three random cards at a time.

All of these elements support the casual play that the merge genre evokes. They also give players a rare opportunity to ignore chasing a high score because if you’re focusing on getting bigger dogs, your points (called bones) will go up anyway, since merging gives you bones. The bone requirements scale nicely so that you don’t really have to think about it as you drop your dogs into the pile. 

In most deckbuilders, when a run is going badly, you can see the end before you reach it. But in Dogpile, failure can be avoided more easily. 

If you fail to hit your bone goal, you have to choose one of two debuffs (called Disciplines). For example, Growth Spurt makes your largest dog card bigger than normal and Vet Bill sets your money to zero. So really, the bone goal exists to create a sense of urgency. 

These disciplines add to the fun by applying pressure while also being reasonable challenges to overcome. You can even factor them into your strategy. For instance, I often worked on giving my dogs the miniature trait (making them smaller than normal), knowing that it would make it easier to deal with Growth Spurt if I had to pick it up. Plus, smaller dogs make it harder to overfill your yard, which is the only true lose condition. 

The fail state occurs when a dog is caught above the yard for several seconds. A countdown appears, letting you know how much time you have to right this wrong. Sometimes, it’s just enough to turn the tides by merging the right dogs at the last second or removing some from the yard thanks to a Tag, Trainer Card, or Dog Trait. 

It’s a last-second thrill and opportunity all wrapped into one. 

The most skilled players don’t need luck, but the rest of us will be happy to hear luck isn’t that important in Dogpile because, again, you don’t need a hyper-efficient build. You don’t need the perfect Tags or Trainers to show up in the shop to make that game-winning synergy. You just need to get that big dog, so having higher-level cards is a clear path forward. In Dogpile, additional strategies feel like an enhancement more than a requirement. 

This isn’t to say cool combos don’t exist or that planning ahead doesn’t allow you to pull ahead. Rather, I want to emphasize the way you can just feel Dogpile out. You don’t have to take too much time with your decisions or stick to a strategy right away. You can experiment and still come out victorious. 

Dogpile wants you to win. So much so that even if you lose, you can hit “continue” and start over with the deck you just lost with. Presumably, this means having bigger dogs to begin with, essentially giving you a head start on the game.

Because of the physics element, the joy and strategy of the game isn’t limited to bones or dollars (for spending in the shop). It’s about where you drop your dogs. 

Traits and Tags also impact the physics. Traits like Pack play a dog from your deck immediately, Digs draws a card on merge, Barkly pushes other dogs away, and Friendly pulls dogs together like a magnet. My favorite Tags shake up the physics even more, specifically Air Bud where, on shuffle, all dogs do a big jump. 

Things can be a bit random, and that’s part of the magic. 

Visually, Dogpile is a symphony of shapes: bean-shaped Dalmations, nervously scrunched up Greyhounds, a circular Corgi showing off its asterisk butthole, a collection of frizz and fluff that makes up a Chow Chow. This makes the chaos a treat to watch unfold and presents challenges as a bunch of different shapes struggle to share the yard.

Lastly, Dogpile doesn’t want you to be too precious about your pups. At the Dogwash, you can select one of three rotating Treatment options. Sometimes one of these options lets you cut cards from your deck, but crucially, the dogs that enter the Dogwash aren’t up to you. Instead, three random cards are laid out before you, and whatever treatment you select is applied to all of them. 

Roguelike deckbuilders are typically about curation, but Dogpile forces you to concede some of that control. And it works because it’s designed around that concession. 

The result is a fun machine where dogs roll, bark, jumble, and ultimately merge. I’ve beaten the game seven times across seven hours and don’t plan on uninstalling anytime soon.