The Classic Misadventures in Gaming #8

By Dan Bosley
July 9, 2006 (Originally Posted on February 12, 2003)

Editor’s Note: For those of you just tuning in, check out the first part of this story in The Classic Misadventures in Gaming #7.

But just as fast as he drops the ball, Bill quickly does a sleight-of-hand move with the same hand that dropped it, and he catches the foosball before it hits the table. I try kicking his hand with my mid-fielders, but to no avail.

“Say,� he says. “I have an idea. Why don’t we put some money down on this game?� Bill smiles at me.

I look at Bill. I look down at the table to make sure it hasn’t magically transformed into a pool table. Nope. It’s still a foosball table.

“Money?� I ask. “You want to bet on who’s going to score the last goal?�

“Yeah, why not?� he responds. “It’ll make it more interesting.�

“On one single goal? You want to bet on a single goal?�

“Well, yeah, if you want to put it that way. But we’re really betting on is who is going to win the game.�

Now Foosball is definitely a game of skill. However, you can’t get away from the fact that luck is also a very big factor in the game. The luck aspect IS there. Sometimes, flukey goals simply go in. With the ball often bouncing and ricocheting around the foosball field at high speeds, it’s inevitable that occasional lucky bounces occur, and a “non-skillful� goal will occur.

Over a full game, usually, (or at least hopefully!) the “skillful� goals should outnumber the flukey goals. But that’s over a full game. To place a bet on one single goal....

“I don’t think so,� I say.

“Ah, come on. Look how good you’ve been doing. You guys caught right up to us. I’m probably the nutty one to be offering the bet. Let’s say $10.00, all right?� asks Bill in a very reasonable tone of voice. “We each put up $10.00. Whichever team scores the next goal, wins all the money.�

I’m beginning to smell a scam. Maybe I wasn’t in the Zone after all..... Maybe.....Just maybe.....I’ve been set up. I look at Bill again, but Bill doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he seems to be looking at my forehead.

“Excuse me just a moment,� I say. “I’ll be right back.� I immediately run over to the door that connects the garage to the house. I open it up, and am engulfed by a cloud of warm air from the hallway. My glasses steam up, and I can’t see where I am going, but I stumble forward anyway. I step into the living room, and see Len through my foggy glasses in mid-yawn.

“Len!� I cry out. “What’s it say on my forehead?�

“Wha..?� mumbles Len. My sudden reappearance, covered as I am with frost, has startled him and caused him to rush his current yawn.

“Len! What’s on my forehead?� I repeat.

“What? What are you talking about?� he asks me, puzzlement in his voice.

“My forehead! My forehead! What’s on my forehead?� I badger him.

Len looks at my forehead rather blankly. “I don’t know,� he says, a little warily.

“Get a grip, man!� I tell him. “What’s it say on my forehead?�

Len peers at my forehead a little more closely. “It doesn’t.... it doesn’t say anything.� he manages to inform me.

“Are you sure? Are you sure?� I pester Len some more. “I need to know what it says.�

Len really, REALLY looks at my forehead. “There’s.....there’s nothing there. There’s no writing.�

“Are you positive?� I demand.

He nods. “Yes. Yes. There’s nothing there. I can’t see anything.�

“Are you sure? Is there an 8-letter word there? First syllable is a seabird? Sounds kinda like Somebody’s Travels by Jonathan Swift?� I bark out at him.

“No, No,� Len stutters at me.

“There’s no 5-letter word there for a primate, with the wrong vowel?� I ask him

“No, No,� he stutters again.

“It doesn’t say: Date of Birth: 2 Days Before Tomorrow?�

“No. No. It doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing on your forehead.� Len is looking rather flustered.

“O.K., thanks,� I tell him. I spin, and head down the hall back to the garage. Before I can get there, Mary accosts me.

“Dan,� she says. “We’re all waiting to play this Wolf game. Can you come now?�

“In a moment,� I tell her. “Do you have a deck of cards? We’re going to need a deck of cards.�

“I looked but I couldn’t find our deck. Oh, but wait, I think one of my daughters might have a deck.�

“Great,� I tell Mary. “Go get the cards. I’ll be there in a minute.�

I carry on down the rest of the hallway. Then I open the connecting door to the garage and step back into the arctic zone again. I return to the table and resume my spot.

Bill is looking at me. “Well?� he asks. “Are we going to bet?�

“Sorry, Bill. What did you say?� I ask him.

“Are we going to bet? Ten dollars on the next goal.� Bill is looking at my forehead again.

“I don’t think so, Bill,� I tell him.. “I’m not some gullible chump born yesterday, you know.�

Bill sighs. “Fine,� he says, a bit dejectedly. “Let’s just play, then.�

Bill drops the ball into the centre of the foosball field.

WHAM! The two opposing rows of 5 midfielders both try to blast the ball into the opposite end of the foosball table. The ball takes off diagonally and smashes against the far field wall, close to Bill’s end zone.

One of Bill’s defenders has it. The defender rod has 2 foosball men attached to it, immediately in front of the defender’s goalie.

Many times earlier in the game, Bill has tried the technique where he passes the ball from one defender EXTREMELY QUICKLY horizontally along the field to the other defender, who IMMEDIATELY kicks it downfield. It’s hard to do accurately - but when it works, it works very well. If the opposing team’s players are not in just the perfect position, that ball can rocket down the field.

And Bill does it. He does it SO FAST, that the ball is literally invisible. I am not making this up. Usually, when a foosball rockets down the field, you can at least see it, even though it’s a blur.

But on this shot of Bill’s, it is SO FAST, that the human eye simply can NOT see it. One split second the ball is on his right defender’s foot, the next split second, the ball is passed to his left defender’s foot, and then - VANISHED. The ball is gone. It is simply not there. It’s INVISIBLE. GONE. No longer visible to human eyes.

WHACK! The ball bangs against the BACK of our goal. VERY, VERY LOUDLY. They have scored, and they have won the game, 10 to 9.

I have seen some pretty fast shots in Foosball before, but that one was simply amazing. It simply dematerialized from the field and rematerialized inside our goal with a loud Whack. There’s no other explanation. If it had actually been shot down the table, at least a blur would have been visible. But nothing. There was no blur visible. There was nothing to be seen. The ball simply wasn’t there anymore. It was faster than the eye could track.

“That was incredible!� I say.

“Thank you,� says Bill, graciously.

“Good thing we didn’t bet,� I tell Bill.

The door opens again. It’s Mary. “Dan,� she says. “We’ve got the cards, everybody is ready.�

“Coming,� I say. “Well boys, I’m off for a little Werewolf. See you later.�

I follow Mary into the living room. The living room is full of people. Mary hands me her daughter’s deck of cards. The cards are all based on a Winnie the Pooh theme. There’s Pooh, of course, and Christopher Robin, and Tigger, and Eeyore, and Piglet, and Owl and a few others. No wolves, though.

I stand in the centre of the room. The room hushes expectantly. All eyes are on me. I scrape some of the frost off my eyebrows.

“O.K., this is a game called WEREWOLF,� I start. “Everybody here, all the people in this room, we are all villagers in a quaint Eastern European village, many, many years ago. There’s no electricity. There’s no running water. There’s basically very little communication with the outside world.

“One of the villagers, one of you, is a seer. A person with the “gift.� The “Sight.� The ability to perceive the way things really are, rather than just the way they appear to be. And that is an ability that may come in handy in this village.

“Because, unfortunately for the villagers, not all of the villagers in this poor unnamed village are just plain old villagers. TWO of their number in fact have recently been turned into werewolves. By day, they look and act and talk just like everyone else. But you sure don’t want to be around them at night. For at night is when they change into WEREWOLVES!� I yell out this last word, and everyone JUMPS! Especially Margaret, who actually spills her drink a little when I loudly yell out the WEREWOLF word. Well, at least I have their attention.....

I continue, “And at night, the two werewolves prowl the village, seeking a victim. When they find one, they rip out his or her throat - and death claims another victim.

“Of course, then day comes, and the werewolves revert back to seemingly ordinary villagers. But - then the poor dead body of the hapless victim is found. And the rest of the villagers are scared out of their minds, and want vengeance, and want to defend themselves - so what do they do? They form a lynch mob - and they vote and pick one villager whom they suspect is really a werewolf. They then hang that villager, hoping to put an end to the night-time slayings.

“But then the next night falls. And if any werewolves are still alive, they claim another victim. And the next morning, upon discovery of the gruesome murder, the remaining villagers lynch another suspected werewolf villager.

“And so it goes, day by day, and night by night, until either: A) all the werewolves are dead, in which case the villagers (both dead and alive) win the game, or B) the number of werewolves equals the number of surviving villagers, and night is falling, in which case the werewolves (both of them) win, and the villagers lose.�

Ellen interrupts, “I told Mary we should play Charades. This is supposed to be a party game? It sounds very violent. Throat-ripping out, lynch mobs hanging people? How is this supposed to be fun?�

Mary looks at me. She speaks, “Both Dan and Diane said it was a good party game. But I must admit that hearing Dan describe it, it does sound kind of violent....�

Ellen responds, “SOUND kind of violent? Why Mary, listen to what he’s saying - the whole premise of the game is violence. Werewolves killing people, people killing other people because they think those people MIGHT be werewolves - it’s killing and more killing. I really don’t think this kind of thing should be entertainment.�

“Seen any movies or TV lately?� I ask Ellen.

“That’s not relevant to this. This is a party, and not some sort of horror film copycat type of activity. What you’re describing is atrocious - you’re asking people in this room to pretend to kill other people in this room - that is hardly entertainment.�

“Read any mystery novels lately?� I ask Ellen.

“That’s different.� Ellen says.

“What do you mean that’s different?� pipes up Susan.

“It’s different. TV and movies and books are all passive. You just view or read them. You don’t actively participate in them. You’re a passive onlooker. But this Werewolf game is asking us to participate in killing - pretend killing, granted, but it’s still interactive. And I for one think that is wrong.�

“Well, you don’t have to play, you know,� I offer.

Ellen shakes her head. “No, that’s a cheap way out. I’m here. I shouldn’t have to be forced not to play. We should play a game everyone can play. We should play a game everyone likes. We should play Charades. No one will be offended by that. Not like this violent Werewolf game.�

“You know, “ I tell her. “You really have the wrong idea about this game. It’s more a game of bluff and counterbluff, and trying to persuade people to vote for so and so, and not vote for you. There really isn’t any violence. Getting “killed� just means you are actively out of the game. If doesn’t mean you are dead. You can still watch and listen to the fun.�

Ellen appears adamant. “Fun? You call it Fun? I believe Charades will offer a more wholesome experience for everyone here.�

“Wholesome? We’re going for wholesome experiences here?� I ask.

“You have a problem with wholesome experiences?� she asks me.

“No. But this is a party. And parties are for having fun. And Werewolf is a fun game. Now, it may not be YOUR cup of tea. Not everyone likes every kind of game, I understand that. And I’m not blaming you if you don’t want to play Werewolf. No one’s going to force you to play it. But you shouldn’t force other people NOT to play it if they want to play it. They may like the game, even if you don’t.�

“Yes, but everyone likes Charades.� Ellen says.

“No, that’s not true,� I answer back. “I know a lot of people who don’t like Charades because they don’t like to get up in front of other people and be the centre of attention. They might enjoy watching OTHER people perform, but they would prefer not to have to get up themselves and act.�

“But your game is violent,� states Ellen.

“No it isn’t. Maybe the theme, the story behind the game, has violence in it. But the actual gameplay can be very engaging, and it’s not violent in the way you are suggesting.� I defend Werewolf.

“You can say whatever you want, I don’t think YOU should be FORCING people to play your game.� Ellen says.

“I DIDN’T say that! I’m not forcing anybody to do anything! I’m not forcing anyone here to play Werewolf. If they want to play, great. If they don’t, that’s fine, too. It’s just a game. It’s JUST a game. It’s not a lifestyle!� I inform her.

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT MY LIFESTYLE?� Ellen says very LOUDLY to me.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything about your lifestyle. Where are you getting this from?�

“I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. IT ALWAYS COMES DOWN TO MY LIFE CHOICES.�

“Listen, Ellen, take it easy -� I start.

“YOU AND YOUR VIOLENT GAMES! YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK?� Ellen says and walks over to me.

In Ellen’s hand is her glass, half-full of her drink. And before it actually happens, I know just what she is going to do. Everything goes into slow-motion, and there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. And just like we’re in a movie, she throws the liquid SPLASH! into my face....

To be continued.....

© 2006 Rick Thornquist

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