Mexican Train vs. Chicken Foot: Two Domino Games Compared
Mexican Train and Chicken Foot are often shelved next to each other because they share so much on the surface — both are usually played with an oversized double-twelve set, both start from a central double, and both let a layout branch out into multiple lines instead of one long chain. Sit down to actually play either one, though, and the rules pull apart fast. Here's what's the same, what's different, and which one to reach for depending on the group. This is a direct comparison of two specific, named games — not a claim that either one represents "standard" domino play; both are regional variants built on top of the same tile set as block dominoes, with their own distinct rulebooks.
What they have in common
- Set size. Both are traditionally played with a double-twelve set (91 tiles), which comfortably supports larger groups — up to eight players in many house rules — without running out of tiles. Ninety-one tiles is a lot of headroom: split eight ways, that's still over 11 tiles apiece before touching the boneyard (a double-six set's 28 tiles would run out almost immediately at that table size).
- A starting double. Both games begin with a chosen double placed in the center of the table as the anchor everything else builds from.
- Branching layouts. Unlike a single-line game like standard block dominoes, both games let the layout spread outward from the center in several directions at once, one train or "foot" per branch.
- Drawing when stuck. Both use a boneyard that players draw from when they have no legal play, rather than simply passing outright — a meaningful departure from the block-dominoes rules covered in our beginner's guide, where the boneyard sits untouched all round.
Why a double-twelve set specifically
A double-twelve set has 91 tiles — (12+1)(12+2)/2, the same formula behind every domino set size — and 13 doubles (0-0 through 12-12), versus a double-six set's 28 tiles and 7 doubles. Both quantities matter for these two games specifically: more tiles support more players and bigger starting hands, and more doubles means more potential trains (in Mexican Train) or more chances to trigger the branch-filling requirement (in Chicken Foot) over the course of a longer game. The full breakdown of tile counts, doubles, and pip totals for every common set size, double-twelve included, is on our Domino Set Reference page.
Where Mexican Train diverges
Mexican Train's defining feature is personal ownership: each player builds their own numbered "train" radiating out from the central double, and for most of the game a player may only extend their own train (unless it's been left "open," typically marked with a small marker, which lets anyone play on it). There's also a shared "Mexican train" branching off the same central double (often nicknamed "the engine") that any player may add to at any time, regardless of whose turn it is to move on their personal train.
A player who can't extend their own train and has no play for the Mexican train must draw from the boneyard. If the drawn tile still can't be played, their train is marked open, meaning other players may now play on it too until its owner closes it again with a matching tile. Watching which trains are currently marked open is a meaningful piece of strategic information in its own right: an open train is one anyone can shorten your options on, but it's also one you can play into yourself if it happens to match a tile you're trying to get rid of.
This ownership structure changes the strategic feel considerably: you're managing your own branch, watching for chances to close it back off once opened, and deciding when it's worth adding to the shared train versus holding a tile back for your own line. Holding back a matching tile deliberately, rather than playing it the instant you can, is a common intermediate-level tactic: keeping your train closed a little longer denies other players an easy target while you wait for a better moment to extend it yourself.
Where Chicken Foot diverges
Chicken Foot skips personal trains entirely. Instead, whenever a double is played onto the layout, the very next requirement is strict: every other branch off that double must be filled before normal play can resume anywhere else on the layout — a rule usually described as the double "needing to be satisfied." Since a double typically has multiple open sides (commonly three, forming the game's namesake "chicken foot" shape), this can freeze most of the table's attention on one spot until all of its branches are filled.
There's no shared communal train and no personal ownership of any branch — any player may play on any open end at any time, subject only to the double-satisfying rule above. That makes Chicken Foot feel more reactive and less territorial than Mexican Train; you're watching the whole board rather than managing your own lane. It also means a run of doubles played back-to-back can chain several "satisfy this double first" requirements on top of each other, which is part of why Chicken Foot games can swing unpredictably compared to the steadier, more parallel structure of several independent Mexican Train lines.
Side by side
- Ownership: Mexican Train gives each player a personal train; Chicken Foot has no ownership at all.
- Doubles: Mexican Train treats a double like any other branch point; Chicken Foot forces every branch off a double to be filled before play moves on elsewhere.
- Shared structure: Mexican Train has one shared communal train alongside the personal ones; Chicken Foot has none, since nothing is personally owned to begin with.
- Pace: Mexican Train tends to spread out gradually across several visible trains; Chicken Foot tends to cluster activity around whichever double is currently unsatisfied.
- What to track mentally: in Mexican Train, which trains are currently open; in Chicken Foot, which double is currently unsatisfied and which of its branches remain empty.
How big a hand, at a bigger table
Both games are commonly played with more people than standard block dominoes, which raises a practical question: how many tiles does each player actually start with? There's no single universal answer — it's one of the details each rule sheet or box insert specifies, and it typically shrinks as more players join so the group doesn't run through the boneyard too fast. What's fixed, mathematically, is the ceiling: a double-twelve set's 91 tiles could theoretically deal out to 45 tiles each for 2 players, 30 each for 3, 22 each for 4, or 15 each for 6, with nothing left over (see the full breakdown by player count on our set reference page). Real starting hands are always well below that ceiling, on purpose, so there's a working boneyard to draw from once players get stuck — a bigger set gives the game room to support a bigger table precisely because that ceiling is so much higher than a double-six set's.
Common house-rule variations
Both games have accumulated enough regional and family variations that it's worth confirming a few details before a serious game, the same way you would for block-dominoes scoring:
- Extra turn on a double. Some Mexican Train groups let a player who plays a double immediately take another turn, rather than passing play to the next seat — a meaningful pace-changer that isn't universal.
- Who chooses the starting double. Most games start with the highest double someone holds, drawn or dealt at random into the initial hands, but a few groups instead draw the starting double blind from a separate small pool before hands are even dealt.
- How an unsatisfied Chicken Foot resolves at the end of a hand. If the round ends (someone dominoes, or the game blocks) while a chicken foot is still only partly filled, some house rules score it differently than a normal blocked branch — worth settling before scores get written down.
- Marking conventions. Exactly how an "open" train gets marked (a small token, a spare tile turned sideways, or just verbal agreement) is entirely a matter of what's on hand, not a fixed rule.
None of these variations change the core mechanics described above, but they're exactly the kind of detail that causes friction mid-game if two players learned the game from different tables. A minute of "how do we handle X" before the first double gets played heads off most of it.
Scoring in both games
Both games are usually scored the opposite way to standard block dominoes: when a hand ends, every player adds the pips left in their own hand to their own running total, and the lowest total after the last hand wins. That is not the winner-takes-the-pips rule covered in our scoring guide, so agree which one your table uses before the first hand. Because a double-twelve set runs much heavier per tile than a double-six set, rounds tend to produce bigger point swings — the full double-twelve set carries 1,092 pips in total (versus 168 for double-six), which is worth keeping in mind if you're setting a target score for the night. The Domino Scorekeeper applies the block and draw rule, so for these two games keep the running totals on paper.
Which one to pick
For a group that likes tracking their own progress and enjoys a bit of territory to manage, Mexican Train's personal trains tend to land well. For a group that prefers everyone reacting to the same shared board without anyone "owning" a piece of it, Chicken Foot's whole-table focus around each double is the better fit. Group size matters too: Mexican Train's parallel personal trains scale fairly gracefully as more players join, since each new player just adds one more train to track; Chicken Foot's shared-focus structure can start to feel congested once a table gets past five or six players, since everyone is competing for the same one or two open branches at a time.
Both are approachable for mixed-age family groups and neither requires more than the rules above to get a first round going. If your table already has a double-twelve set for one of these games, our deeper look at Mexican Train's conventions covers the details — marking trains, the engine, and what "satisfying" actually requires — in more depth than a comparison piece like this one can.