I've accidentally discovered something more important than flawlessness

I never expected college to bring out so much of my creative side. Never would I have guessed that in one year, I would have invented my own language, written a play, and helped to create a board game. By far the hardest of the three was inventing the board game. Though Jim, Tristan, Michael, and I had several meetings, 2/3 of them were spent coming up with a concept. Thinking back on it, we had a plethora of terrible ideas (including one which had the word "shank" in the title), and when we finally stumbled on a good one, we realized we had accidentally recreated Agricola, a German-made game centered around 17th century farming. But luckily, this slight error was merely a drought in our planting season, followed by a thriving and lush field of ideas.

Once we came up with a concept, our biggest problem was remaining on topic. One minute we'd be talking about whether or not we'd be using cards or a board, and the next, we were discussing card design. Constantly, we had to interrupt each other with exasperated cries of "but what is the point of the game?!" It seemed, that far more difficult than coming up with interesting visual design was inventing a cohesive and sensical mechanic that would allot for maximum fun. Throughout our discussions, we strived to keep as many things in mind as possible: don't make the game take too long, don't make it too easy, don't make it too difficult, don't make it offensive (at one point, one of us suggested the name "Queebo," to which another responded with a chuckle, "sounds like an anti-homosexual slur." When another person laughed and said if we're going to call it that we may as well call it "Gayme," we realized we had going hilariously off-topic). But it's difficult to please everyone, and especially difficult to make a game appropriately complicated without making it terribly difficult to master. I don't even think we came close to doing that until our penultimate meeting, where we fine-tuned Gemtastic to the best of our ability in such a short time period. Too me though, the most rewarding part of that experience was working with a group to achieve a common goal. So rarely does a group function well together. Usually there's a slacker, or a person who takes charge, and while I group had both of those stereotypes to an extent, mostly, I just enjoyed spending time with my group members, and it's always fascinating to hear what they have to say, and even more fascinating to discover their abilities to create things that I never would have thought of. Conversely, I discovered things about myself that boosted my self-esteem. My group members took my ideas and actually implemented them, rather than sloughing them off as silly comments. I had honestly never been in a group with such polite, respectful people before. 

But besides being extremely polite, each of them were incredibly, almost intimidatingly brilliant. Michael had an excellent ability to come up with card statistics, Tristan had amazing marketing ideas, and Jim, ah, Jim... One afternoon he asked me "Want to see something a little disturbing?" Naturally, I chirped, "Always!" and flounced after him. When he opened the door to his room, there were game prototypes littering every inch of it. There was not one corner that wasn't full of little hexagonal tiles or cut up pieces of paper. But rather than find this pathetic, I simply felt lucky to have Jim in our group. Jim, who was clearly born to do this sort of thing. So even though our game design may have been rough, (yet extremely pretty if I do say so myself), what I take away from this project is social experience, and I couldn't have felt more achieved if our project were as honed as a farmer's scythe. 

Mediocre Techno and Disembodied Faces

Sometimes I astound myself with how silly I can be. Why, WHY would I download Snood during finals week?! (Ooo... Snood. Excuse me while I go play a round before continuing to write this) It's sad, that like chocolate, watching re-runs of Frasier, and traveling, simple games are so incredibly addictive. Is it the mind-numbing easiness that allows me to become so immersed, or is it the pretty colors that relax me and pull me in further? In any case, I can't decide whether or not I'm terribly upset over the fact that every time I close my eyes before bed, all I see is Tetris blocks falling, Snoods exploding, or big neon Chain Reaction circles growing. Surely normal people think of, oh I don't know, how to attract boys, or how they're going to ace that test tomorrow, or even if that they skirt were planning to wear tomorrow is too revealing. Maybe thinking about games is better than thinking about the daily grind, but to be perfectly honest, as my eyes start to burn and my wrists start to show those gleeful warning signs of carpel tunnel, I must admit: I wish I were less susceptible to addiction. 

Now, saying something like that makes it seem like I secretly do heroin, but in actuality, I don't get addicted to things other than games. This is not to say that being addicted to games is somehow superior to other addictions (though it might give heroin a run for the money), because I feel like if I didn't have such a Snood problem right now, I'd be getting that beckoning computer science work finished. And that's what confuses me: I need to work on computer science. I in no way need to be improving my Snood score. Even as I play, I'm regretting the time I'm wasting while simultaneously enjoying every bit of it-- sort of like when I sleep past noon. Should I quite cold turkey, or should I methadone my way into a cure, playing less and less Snood every day? Or am I treating this too much like a serious problem? 

Snood does relax me, but it seems like it's gotten to the point of deterring somewhat from academic progress. How could I possibly look at java script when the soft glow of the Snood world tempts me so? Sadly, even as I write this, I know what I have to do...

I have just deleted Snood, and the world makes sense again.

Hello, my name is Sally Neumann, and I am a game-aholic. 

Brontosaurus vs. 2,000 Men

As the days of my freshman year of college quickly dwindle down, I can't help but think about how much I'm going to miss my friends. Sure, they're ridiculous, and yes, they frustrate me more than normal because of the inordinate amount of time we spend with each other, but really, I can't imagine being around better people. 

More than anything else, playing games with them will remain prominent in my memory. Sadly, most of them are ruthless strategy savants, out to make me feel terrible about my gaming skill, but luckily, there are games at which I destroy and thus retain my status as acceptable girl. A few months ago, we were playing games at a bubble tea shop when we stared to play Guesstures. I had  never played before, but have always loved charades, so I was delighted by its fast-paced and hilarious gameplay. I'll never forget flailing my arms around for a brief moment, sure that no one would guess my impossible noun, only to have my friend Ben shout triumphantly "AIR!" Never was a high five of more epic proportions exchanged. For me, it wasn't the actual game that was fun, but making my friends laugh, and spending time with them in a non-competitive atmosphere. Sometimes it gets a little wearing to be around my friends, because it seems that everything turns in to a competition. Even during dinner, we'll be having a pleasant conversation, and someone will introduce a topic that creates an argument explosion. "Okay guys: 2,000 naked men vs. a brontosaurus. Who wins?!" Suddenly we're tripping over each other's sentences: "But brontosauruses are peaceful! I don't want to kill them!" "Oh definitely humans, we out number the brontosaurus by far!" "DUDE. IT'S A DINOSAUR. IT WINS." And while I must admit that I always find these conversations to be hilarious and occasionally, informative, I often tire of the fact that conversations have even become games. 

So why, then, do I like to play games like Guesstures with my friends? My friends let their guards down in casual games. Their battle masks come off and they are nothing but genuinely kind, and rather than try and destroy each other, they help each other towards the common goal of making the game experience as fun as possible. Casual games, lately, have become my favorite way to let off steam. As much as I enjoy the hardcore strategy game, I'm realizing more and more that the most important aspect of gameplay to me is relaxation.