We play games (board games, card games, video games, even RPGs) for a variety of reasons.  Sure, we want to explore new frontiers in our imaginations, and perhaps we enjoy the experiences that we share with our friends.  We also like it when we win, as this provides a bit of self-validation, and a sense of “hey, I’m smart.”

This post is about the reasons why we sometimes run screaming away from a game.  “Oh no,” you mutter, as your friend suggests a game, “That game sucks.”  When, of course, what you really should have said was, “Oh no, I’m afraid that I am going to suck at that.”  Let’s look at this phenomenon a little more closely.

The Fear of Looking Foolish

Sometimes we shy away from games where we fear that other people have more experience, more knowledge of a given system, and that somehow our own lack of knowledge will leave us looking foolish.  I know lots of people who consider themselves to be “good” at various Euro boardgames who will head for the exits if someone pulls out a traditional party game like Pictionary or Scattergories.  Since these are games that anyone can play, then the guy who considers himself a boardgame “expert” has the most to fear from playing badly at such a game.  Plenty of boardgamers will offer all sorts of rationalizations about why such party games are fundamentally inferior games.  I would offer that these games are designed to create a few awkward moments for the players – this is part of the social experience that such games are trying to foster. 

I was surprised when I brought my newly purchased copy of a Eurogame called Factory Fun to my two most recent boardgaming meetups.  I couldn’t generate even a flicker of interest.  Now, this game has some thinking, puzzle-based elements, and lots of cool counters and bits to play with.  However, what drives players away is when they discover that the game contains a simulataneous selection auction mechanic.  In other words, in each of the game’s ten rounds, each player turns up a face down machine and throws it into the center of the table.  Then, simultaneously each player decides which of the available machines best fits into his or her factory, and then grabs it on a first-come, first-served basis.  If you grab a machine and discover that the yellow input is actually on the wrong side from where you thought it was, and therefore you are unable to place your machine that round, not only do you take a five point penalty, you also LOOK FOOLISH. 

Some people would prefer that a game like Factory Fun would use a regular “money auction” for this selection process, as it would cut down on the likelihood of foolish mistakes.  The designer opted for the quick simultaneous approach because a) it greatly shortens the playing time of the game, greatly increasing the fun factor, and b) sure, once in a while you wind up with a less-than-awesome machine, and so you have to be a little more creative with how you place it.  That’s the heart of the game.  Still, most of the folks in my local group are unwilling to give the game a try in its intended format.

The Fear of Helplessness

I don’t like to play chess.  A big part of the reason is that I know I’m not very good at it.  I haven’t had any lessons, and the parts of my brain that are able to quickly look at a board and make a good impulse decision are not well suited to chess.  I don’t have the experience or the knowledge to see what the board will look like in two or three moves.  I don’t have a little book of “endgame situations” memorized.  About ten or fifteen moves into my typical chess game, I usually make some sort of blunder that allows my enemy to make an easy capture that fundamentally blows my defenses wide open.  After that, it’s just a slow march down an inevitable path of losing.  I’m know I’m going to lose against just about anyone who actually knows what he’s doing, and so therefore I avoid the game like the plague.  It’s not that chess is a bad game.  I’m not afraid to admit that my problem with chess is really my own general helplessness at the game.

Another type of the fear of helplessness is a game where you know, halfway through, that you have no chance of winning.  This is even more problematic in really long boardgames.  I can remember sitting down to play a five player game of Twilight Imperium, knowing that I was locking myself in for a good 6 hours or play time, and knowing that I was dead as soon as I looked at my starting hand of planets.  Even before we had finished putting the board together, I knew that my position was fundamentally weaker than anyone else’s because my expansion options were poor, and that my economy would lag behind the other players.  Sure enough, about four hours into the game I got very nearly wiped out by an invading space fleet.  Fellow d21 author Smite has lots of stories about why he hates the boardgame Age of Renaissance, but basically the stories fall into the same pattern of helplessness in the face of not being able to change the outcome of the game.

There’s a reason why most modern Euro games include some sort of a randomizing element, such as dice or card play.  As long as we can tell ourselves that the dice might go south for the leader, or that we might have ourselves a very lucky roll, we carry hope that we might swing our way back into the game.  Hope is the anti-drug that cures helplessness.  Of course, some people run away from games that place a heavy emphasis on dice or randomness, because of an irrational fear that they are going to get screwed by luck, and therefore will end up looking foolish (see above).

The Fear of a Bad Investment

In many ways, this is a perfectly rational sort of fear to have.  I don’t want to spend $10 and two hours of my time watching a bad movie at the cineplex – I would rather read some reviews and hedge my bets.  With gaming, it is not just the time that we invest, but the financial involvement as well.

A great case in point here is a CCG like Magic: the Gathering.  This game can require a pretty stiff investment of both time (dozens and dozens of hours) and money (hundreds of dollars a year).  If you and your playing circle can agree on “spending caps” such as only adding in three boosters a week, then you can play in a controlled environment that is hopefully fun.  However, nothing sucks like spending $200 on Magic cards, thinking that you finally have the makings of  good deck, and then getting your butt handed to you by a 14 year old kid.  The kid, of course, may have a fat allowance, but he also has the time to scour the internet for the latest decks, and the resources to beg, borrow, or trade for the cards that he needs to put that flavor of the moment onto the table.  Lots of people just assume that it isn’t worth their time and money to play CCGs, for fear of suckage, even though the underlying game can still be lots of fun as long as you play against opponents with a similar skill level.  As I discovered, a pre-release tournament is a good way to get yourself an afternoon of fun in a format that tends to put you into games against people that you probably ought to be playing against (something called Swiss format tournament pairings).

The fear of a bad investment applies to all sorts of things.  I don’t want to spend $500 on golf equipment, and even more on green fees, when I already know that I suck.  I know that there are lots of really average golfers out there, and many of those folks burn out after a year or two when they come to realize their limitations.  For now, as I discussed a few weeks back, I am having fun with disc golf, which is using up a bit of my time, but isn’t that expensive to play.  I’m still a thoroughly average player, not yet ready for tournaments, but my fun far outwieghs the sense that I might be making a bad investment.

In Conclusion

So, what have we learned here?  First of all, when your friend suggests a game, try to articulate the REAL reason why you don’t want to play.  In that way, you might foster a dialogue that will encourage you and your friend to find common ground where you can find the right games that both of you will enjoy.  Right now, one of my good friends is a chess whiz, and he is unfamiliar with most of my boardgames.  However, we have had some perfectly enjoyable games of backgammon, because that’s a game where neither one of us has too much invested, we both know enough to avoid looking foolish, and the dice can keep you from feeling too helpless.  Backgammon isn’t the greatest game ever, but it fits in nicely on my little fear index.

Secondly, game designers can see here some of the factors that may cause a new game to fail.  If the components of the game are going to be expensive while the rules are going to be complicated, then the game has to offer something really cool and accessable to make people want to jump over that cost of entry. 

Thirdly, serious competition happens when everyone at the table is playing without fear.  When everyone at the table believes they have a chance to win, and when everybody at the table feels like they are on an equal footing in terms of their knowledge and their investment, then that is the best possible situation for a memorable, competitive, and fun game.  It’s great when we can achieve this with a more complicated and potentially more rewarding game, rather than merely limiting ourselves to playing Uno because that’s the only game that everyone knows how to play.

So, in closing, face your fears!  Then, move past those fears to find common ground with your friends.  Maybe this means taking the time to learn a game that everyone else wants to play, and sometimes this does mean settling on a game that might be less awesome overall, but which represents a consensus choice for your group.  Talk it out with your friends.

Comments, as always, are welcome.