Games for the Gods

I was reviewing a kids' game called Froggy Boogie - a racing game that involves chance and memory.

Because the game involves racing, someone wins, and everyone else loses. This is not easy for some kids, especially kids who are too young to accept losing as part of the game. Nevertheless, game publishers continue to produce racing game after racing game, targeted specifically to young children: Trouble, Sorry, Chutes and Ladders, etc., etc. The rationale: to help children learn how to deal with losing as well as winning. I personally think that kids don't really need to learn about winning and losing until they're old enough to understand the difference between game and real.

In Froggy Boogie there are 9 frogs that are set up in the middle of the play area (table, floor, bed - any flat surface). Each frog has places for two eyes. There are two different kinds of eyes (small cylinders that fit into the frogs eye-holes): One kind has an image of a baby frog on the bottom. The other doesn't. When setting the game up, players put one of each kind of eye in each frog. The challenge, which turns out to be significant enough even for adults (or perhaps especially for adults), is to remember, for each of the nine frogs, which eye has what. Wooden lily pads are placed around the cluster of frogs - this becomes the race track. Players begin the game by selecting a playing piece (one of six differently colored "baby frogs"). Two wooden dice are thrown. Each of the "adult frogs" (the ones with the eyes) is painted in two different colors. The throw of the dice determine exactly which adult frog gets chosen. The player then selects one of that frog's eyes. If there's not a baby frog on the bottom of the eye, the player gets to jump to the next lily pad and guess again. If there is, it's the next player's turn.

I was playing with my grandkids, who, at that time, happened to have that very problem - separating out the fiction of the game from the reality of play. So, we played with only two baby frogs: the "Happy Frog" and the "Sad Frog." One of us would throw the dice, and then all of us would select the eye. We pooled our collective memory. If we guessed correctly, we'd move the Happy frog to the next lily. If we were wrong, the Sad frog would advance. No one "owned" either of the frogs. We were like gods, cheering for the Happy frog when the Happy frog won. Cheering for the Sad frog when she got to move. Sure, sure, we wanted to Happy frog to win. But, in the end, it turned out that the Sad frog won. Which, of course, made her Happy. And us, too.

This is something you can do with any board game involving chance - evoke a godlike perspective. Instead of thinking of pieces as "this is me" and "this is you," name them something like Happy and Sad, or Serious and Silly, or Charlie and Lucy. Play, not to see which of you win, but which character wins. Oddly enough, even though nobody actually wins, it's just as much fun. At least. And nobody loses, either.