It's invigorating, when realisation dawns on you. When you're standing in the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, and then suddenly something slots into place in the recesses of your mind and... zap! You've made a breakthrough. Something, somewhere suddenly makes sense. And you feel a buzz and (in my case at least) a burning desire to write about it. Last night, something poetic dawned on me. And is it cynical? Of course it is. You expected anything less?
If you're looking for a good boardgame, I'd heartily recommend WordBuilder -
the game that literally unravels before your eyes. You get given the first letter of a word which you have to guess, and a (sometimes) complicated definition. If you can't get that, for four points, you go down to a three-pointer. And so on, getting easier and easier. Then, when you get your points, you move on that many squares. But if you're out in front, you get to lay down the tiles which dictates where the game progresses. The person who is out front at the end (and hence lies down the last tile) wins. Nice and simple - with a few twists here or there.
It's fun. Definitely a lot of fun. Watching the board snake around the table, dodging candlesticks and beer bottles, and the unlikely last-chance leap across half of the board... A really good game with friends. And so it was. But... at the same time... there seemed something instrinsically wrong with the evening. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something about the
ambience that was bugging me. Fortunately (or unfortunately for my frail, tired body), it came to me at about half eleven. The entire evening was a neat, tidy microcosm for everything that I'd written about earlier in my
Quitter post. It worked so curiously well, so spookily watertight. There were so many comparisons to be had. And yet... at the same time... so cynical and offensive. But, to be honest, this is my blog and these are my views. And so you, the reader, have to agree to be victim to them once in a while.
The Game, as I've said before, isn't that much fun to play. On the face of it - sure. Every plan you make seems addled with fun and opportunity, but once you start to roll the die and move your pieces you realise that it isn't all it's cracked up to be, though that's mainly down to the players. All through the game you're faced with people who obsess over winning - who aren't content to simply play, as you'd been told they would be. Winning, to them, becomes more important than anything else. In fact, unless they
are winning, they dislike The Game. They moan about it. They don't like it.
Then, of course, there are those that band together. Boyfriend and girlfriend, helping each other out. Is it out of love? Or necessity, obligation to do what they think they should be. Playing out their roles in The Game that's whirling around them, without knowing who's making the rules. I watch as someone mouths the answers to a friend. Is it because they are out to help people along? Or is it because
they want their back scratched some other time? Maybe they want to be remembered as someone who wasn't afraid to break the rules to help others out when it's their neck on the line.
And the ones in the lead, deciding where those behind them will tread. The road might split, but they're all leading for that last tile, all willing themselves to make the final move. Do they notice the other players? Perhaps. But they only really acknowledge them as they sail past them and lay down the future. They ar either obstacles, or they are not there.
It's all very well playing silently. You can walk along, play the odds, wait for your break. But the sad truth is that whilst everyone
thinks they are making the rules and leading the pack, only one person truly is. And if they decide that you haven't won... it doesn't matter if you'd led the way. You're at the back of the queue again. Along with everyone else.
I didn't win the game. In fact, there were times when I was last. But I know I didn't bend the rules. I stuck to the original gameplan. If winning means so much to the others, I wonder why they don't just play on their own. But then, of course, it dawns on me that they are. Each and everyone one of them. Playing on their own, but taking all the stakes at the end of the game.
And then I think... shall I say anything? Shall I put forward these views, this article? The 'Publish Post' button is sitting there, orange and proud. But I am not proud. These views... they seem wrong, stilted, cynical. But whose tune am I playing to? Whose track am I leading? Do I want to follow someone and wait until they lay the final tile? Or should I beat my own path, and let those people who wish to follow do so? If they disagree with what I am saying, that is one thing. If they dislike it... that makes me think I'm speaking the truth.
Cards are drawn and words are spoken. Sometimes the definitions are easy, sometimes they aren't. But it never really mattered whether you were right or wrong. All that mattered was that you were in front. My own path, not someone else's . That's how it's got to be, some times.
