Four years ago, I wrote a short apology for playing games, targeted specifically towards digital video games. Today, I would like to reiterate my statement and expand the idea to analogue board games. Even though many arguments are interchangeable, the analogue and innate social nature of these forces us to approach the idea in a slightly different way.
The reason why this thought bubbled into my head is Blaise Pascal’s criticism of games and leisure time in general. According to Pascal, we’re all squandering our valuable time and should instead be looking for God by living the ascetic way devoted to prayer and spiritual growth. After his (second) intense spiritual experience, he began to ponder the way in which we invent all kinds of means to distract us from the more pressing and urgent questions of life and death (Graham Tomlin’s words):
Take away their diversion and you will see them bored to extinction. Then they feel their nullity without disguising it, for nothing could be more wretched than to be intolerably depressed as soon as one is reduced to introspection with no means of diversion (Pascal’s words).
Pascal isn’t the first nor the last philosopher to issue such a statement. This post isn’t meant to serve as a firm reply but rather as a way to form my own opinion regarding playing. I have yet to read Johan Huizinga’s Homo Ludens which states that we as humans are primarily playful/playing beings. Pascal seems to deny this entirely1, but at one point does put emphasis on the importance of social intimacy. Anyone who ever played, as a kid outside with a ball or as a grown up inside with cardboard and meeples, will know that playing does exactly that: it strengthens human bonds.
Of course games can serve us very well as a distraction to our life’s problems. I will be the first to admit that turning away from a problem to boot up the Nintendo Switch—digital games are better at this than analogue ones—works as a magnificent escape hatch for the currently present misery. Best enjoyed with noise cancelling headphones. Yet that misery will still be there when you decide to save and quit. I think Pascal’s focus on spiritual enlightenment made him reject certain facts of human life: to live is to cope with misery. Playing can be coping. There is nothing wrong with that: without games as a coping mechanism, I wouldn’t have made it this far. So there’s the first argument for instead of against games: coping.
But since that has little to do with board games specifically, let’s shove that philosophical debate aside for a minute and instead focus on why board gaming can be very enjoyable. In the following sections, the term “game” will refer to board game, not video game.
Most games require another player to fully enjoy its mechanics and story. Pulling a box from your shelf and unloading its contents onto the table usually means you have company. The social aspect of gaming has already been touched on but bears repeating often. It’s a perfect excuse to meet up with friends, call regular gaming sessions, ask how everyone’s doing and share a piece of the aforementioned life misery to help shave off the rough edges. I do enjoy the odd solo play session but often prefer to play digitally when I’m on my own. Board gaming is a profound social experience. Taking this argument a bit further, you can even forgo individually owning games and set up a shared game pool: good board games don’t need to be owned.
To me, the social aspect of these games its single biggest appeal. It allows for families to bond (or argue), it allows me to wind down together with a friend. You can pick a fight by playing a competitive game with a lot of direct interaction, or you can decide to save the world together by cooperating. I do recognise that this argument also stands for many video games: I love playing point & click adventure games together with my wife precisely because of it. But I am more of a single player video gamer than I am a single player board gamer.
It’s also a good way to reduce your screen time—unless you buy too many games that require hybrid play sessions with for instance a tablet. It certainly is easier to grab a handheld gaming device of your choice, press that power button, and start playing. There’s the hassle of calling friends, trying to pin down a moment everyone’s free, plowing through the manual, … But it might be better for the eyes.
Speaking of manual, the learning component involved in board gaming is an exciting way to keep your brain active. I recognise that this might be personal but I really like figuring out how something works. I have a few friends who just shove the box and manual over and say “here, you read how this stuff works”. They’d rather get on with playing. Some games can be very daunting to try and get into, but that in itself can be a part of the game—or a challenging game on its own! The problem then becomes trying to remember how it worked as not very game is played each month and the more difficult ones rarely hit the table here.
Everyone who knows me will know what’s coming next: the physical component of board gaming is so much more satisfying than its digital counterpart. I love analogue card games because I can hold something in my hand, scan my opponent, or just fool around and secretly trade cards even if it’s not allowed, just for the heck of it. Fooling around is a fundamental part of play. I love fooling around (which is why I love the original Bohnanza).
In a board game, you can make or break the rules. Some rules might not make a lot of sense for your play group: just throw out that rule or invent your own house rules! No need to try and hack the binary by opening up a hex editor or scouring the internet in search for a trainer or cheat codes. The “bendability” of these types of games is a core mechanic of the recent legacy game subgenre where the rules are constantly permanent changed by tearing up cards, placing stickers, and so forth.
A card or board game is an enjoyable way of spending your evening. Creating such an experience surely is also an enjoyable way of spending your working day—most games are made by just one or two designers. Remember the mass layoffs in the video game industry? Giant AAA studios hiring hundreds of highly specialised folks, taking care of one specific part of the engine, script, or story? Thankfully, analogue games have none of that. As an amateur game designer, create your own roll & write or print & play games to enjoy with friends, inspired by your favourite mechanics. No programming language, expensive RAM, or graphics card needed.
I could also make a case for the attractive financial aspect of a card game versus an AAA console game that nowadays costs €80 but that argument will only hold if you keep your collection modest and stay away from the huge limited edition boxes that easily go above €120. I trade and buy/sell board games much more often than I do video games, because I can, and with digital games I simply cannot. Also, the average medium-sized board game costing €45, played ten times over a session of one to two hours means money well spent in good company compared to a one-time movie ticket—or even a single player video game. As always, your mileage will vary: some finished legacy games cannot be sold since you tore up cards.
Board games are designed to be replayable. Most contemporary video games are not. I still love playing Agricola, a game that will become 20 years old next year. The simplicity of the rules, the variety by for instance a variable board setup, the gradual complexity and feeling of “beating” the game thanks to skill instead of luck, …
Of course I also still love (re)playing The Legend of Zelda: A Link To The Past which is 35 years old so perhaps most of the above arguments can also be applied to video games. None of these statements are meant as an argument against playing video games—I just tried to focus on the more unique aspects of board gaming. When I’m too tired to pull a game box off the shelf, I’ll still boot up the Switch instead. Or read a book.
Such as Blaise Pascal’s Pensées. Which makes you ponder… Why do I really play games?
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Before his second spiritual experience, he did enjoy solving the problem of probability in games of betting, so does that argument really stand? ↩︎
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