Games can cause pain. That’s something we all know yet tend to not discuss, let alone recognize. Much of the distress people undergo is fleeting. Some sense of consternation arising from stress. Disappointment can prompt passing ire or malaise. Oftentimes, I’ve witnessed a person berate him or herself or disengage due to a poor decision or outcome. At the close of some games, a person would lament that so-and-so won, and sigh, with weariness, “for what else would you expect?” These moments stick with me. I’m sensitive, and want people to have fun, enjoy their experiences, and not get too invested in outcomes. Yet, the reality is that we each come to games with our individual expectations and baggage, and what another person undergoes during a game lies outside my control.
Sometimes barbs prick people’s psyche, whether egos or insecurities or simply feelings. In a recent game where you enter into battles with other players, a friend became upset when I indicated that the move was faulty because another player would surely win. The friend did not like that I pointed out what the other person needed to do to win, which was common information and did not seem like table talk to me. In general terms, whether I crossed the line with my commentary, I suspect not, yet due to this person being angered, I did cross the line with this person.
Then there are people who behave in secret, trying to mask open information and ensuring that all info that need not be disclosed stays shrouded. Hard it is to unearth how many cards they hold, what they did on their last turn, or any other game-state info. To play within some level of secrecy shall provide an edge, I suppose. Discussing games, and endeavoring to keep information exchanged, in terms of strategies, perspectives, options, and the like please me, and enrich the game, though I recognize this viewpoint is not the consensus.
Reading online strategy disinterests me, for the beauty of the game is to learn and deduce things, whether with friends or individually. Like, with Scythe, from generally following a Facebook page for it, I know that there are strategies for each faction/board combo that can end the game quickly. That you can conduct your moves based on the given board to ramp up to achieving six stars. The idea of memorizing and performing these scripts disinterests me. What’s the point?
In contrast, sharing what you recognize, or think you have recognized, is a strong aspect of the joy that gaming can bring to me. To keep things level, if I learn something online, I share it. It’s an open book, this gaming realm. I do, however, enjoy reading discussions of rules, reviews of games, and other various posts, within which strategy tips may be embedded. In terms of these trinkets, I try to share them. Some of my friends engage, others don’t. It runs the gamut, with some people wishing to engage and others not wishing to do so. I suppose one aspect of Root that I love is that table talk is incorporated into the game. You can reveal where others might be scheming and point out weaknesses. The balance in the game is contingent on the players poking at weaknesses and maximizing opportunities. I haven’t been the Riverfolk yet, but the idea of offering to move my pieces places and conduct other various actions so as to entice purchases appeals to me. We only used them once, and I think we had engrained ideas of “table talk” that prevented them from being fully explored.
There are personalities adverse to not being the alpha on the top, or perhaps personalities adverse to allowing another person to be the expert. With rules explanations, certain people will not engage, preferring to stare at rulebooks rather than listen. The act of sharing the game via an explanation not being an enjoyable part of the process. At these moments, it’s unclear to me whether it’s personal toward me, or simply the other person’s general nature. I know when I’m not being clear or precise with my explanation, which happens sometimes. Other times, I slay the elucidation. I think, on the whole, I’m decent at it, though I do recognize that when people don’t pay attention and then ask multiple questions that I had answered that I can become frustrated, especially when people ask the same question in succession, as if they’re unable to pay attention to another person’s question. Perhaps I’m too demanding, and that these past interactions have turned certain people off from my explanations.
I have been focused on the impacts of the games themselves, whether preparatory, during, or following. There are related but external hurts as well. Like when you’re not invited to a gaming event, for whatever the reason. There’s an entire world of ways that you can be slighted due to games. Learning that people have a habitual game night of which you hadn’t be previously aware can hurt, as can trying to have set up games to learn that people declined to then play the same game with others.
Game groups can be like dating in this regard. Each person brings strengths and weaknesses, and you accept these traits, or you move on to other people. Ultimately, for me, it’s good to balance a range of people for varying games, which allows you to overlap what works with certain individuals while distancing the mechanics that falter as appropriate. Within my mind, I can picture someone and assign game characteristics that’ll suffice in terms of length, complexity, game mechanics, etc. Some people lack the ability to pay attention and need fast turns. Others bog within analysis paralysis and need simplified options. Some people detest bluffing or might not like direct conflicts. My view of each friends is a series of overlapping circles, seeking the best option to match where everyone’s preferences converge.
Ultimately, my goal remains to not take things personally, while taking in as much gaming splendor as I can, even if this means that I must play Splendor, which isn’t a knock on the game, but rather a recognition that there are richer experiences to be had.