At the risk that someone has already taken this tack, let me expand on last week’s article, Wait.  We were talking about something learned from playing solitaire, particularly from having people tell you what you should do.  I said then that there were several things this brought to mind; this is another of those things.

  It came to me to wonder, as I was writing about people looking over your shoulder during your solitaire game, why they do it.  After all, you’ve dealt yourself a hand of solitaire, and you’re playing it quite fine on your own, thank you, and someone comes along to tell you how to play.  Why don’t they just mind their own business, or at least keep out of yours?

  It occurs to me almost immediately that it isn’t just with solitaire games that we encounter this phenomenon.  In the movie The Last Starfighter, there is that moment when little brother Louis Rogan is all over the Starfighter video game telling his brother Alex what to shoot, until Alex has to ask him to move his head out of the way so he can see.  What is most interesting about this is that it seems so real, so true to life-we have all played video games and had someone sitting near us pointing and shouting about them.  Why do people do this?  Obviously they are not playing the game–you are.  What prompts someone to tell you how to play the game you are playing entirely on your own?

  This sort of thing happens even when we aren’t playing alone.  Who has never been playing in a friendly card game with a few people and had someone who isn’t playing come around behind him to look at his hand, and even to make veiled (or not so veiled) comments about how it should be played, or whether it’s any good?  Oh, yes, play that; oh, that’s good.  What about chess?  It seems that somebody is always interested in giving you his (or her) detailed advice regarding how to play.  People insist on becoming involved in games in which they are obviously not involved.

  Part of that may be the excitement inherent in watching a good tense game.  Certainly if we see an exciting moment, we want to be part of it.  Like spectators rooting for a ball team, we feel a part of it merely by watching, and often we think we know the best thing for the team to do.  Hardcore fans of various sports are always yelling their advice toward the players on the field, or cursing them for not doing what from the stands appeared so obvious.  Yet this doesn’t sufficiently explain the phenomenon.  It seems clear from the interest people take in the rather dull game of Solitaire that there must be some other motivating factor at work, some reason spectators are drawn into a game in which they are not players.

  The answer that comes to me may be almost too obvious.  Spectators want to be involved with you because you are playing a game.  Games are social activities, and are perceived as such even when they are designed to be played alone, or when they are being played by others with others.  So the person on the video game or playing with the cards or otherwise involved in an exclusive game is involved in an activity the rest of us perceive as social, and we want to be part of it.  From a psychosocial perspective, this is rather interesting; the person who deals himself a hand of solitaire or picks up the video game controller may be attempting to communicate to others that he wishes to withdraw from interaction with them, but because he is playing a game and we understand games to be social activities, he actually encourages us to interact with him.

  There is a sense in which that interaction is superficial.  If I tell you which way to go in your video game, or warn you of incoming enemy fighters, or suggest what strategy to follow in your card play, I’m not even really playing the game with you.  I’m certainly not sharing anything deep or meaningful with you.  Then again, those who rise in the stands and perform their rituals in support of their teams feel like they’re part of the game despite the fact that there’s no rational (and even precious little irrational) reason to think they’re connected to what is actually happening on the field.  I read recently of someone who genuinely believes not only that his presence in front of the television set helps his favorite team win the game, but that he has to wear the right pair of shorts for it to be truly effective.  He’s not socially involved with anyone at that moment; but he feels as if he is, as if he’s part of the team pushing on to victory.

  That superficial connection may be enough.  It is at least the starting point for a relationship.  Games ultimately are about playing together, and through playing together sharing time, and through sharing time sharing ideas, and through sharing ideas coming to know each other, and through coming to know each other building solid friendships which may last for years.

  So get together with a few people this weekend and play a game.  Call some old friends whom you haven’t seen for a while and invite them over.  Ask a few co-workers or fellow students what they’re doing later.  It doesn’t have to be a role playing game, but it could be.  You don’t have to invite them over for a role playing game specifically even if that’s what you have in mind.  Don’t make the distinction; maybe don’t even make the commitment.  So, what do you guys want to play?  We’ve got Monopoly™, Mille Bornes™, Dungeons & Dragons™, Multiverser™, Clue, pinochle, Legends of Alyria, and a couple of others here.  Any game will do; just spend time with them.  It’s a great way to get to know each other.

  Next week, something different.

—–

M. Joseph Young is co-author of Multiverser and Vice President for Development at Valdron Inc.  His many contributions to online literature are indexed for convenience, and he looks forward to discussing these things by e-mail or on our Gaming Outpost forums.

  At the risk that someone has already taken this tack, let me expand on last week’s article, Wait.  We were talking about something learned from playing solitaire, particularly from having people tell you what you should do.  I said then that there were several things this brought to mind; this is another of those things.

  It came to me to wonder, as I was writing about people looking over your shoulder during your solitaire game, why they do it.  After all, you’ve dealt yourself a hand of solitaire, and you’re playing it quite fine on your own, thank you, and someone comes along to tell you how to play.  Why don’t they just mind their own business, or at least keep out of yours?

  It occurs to me almost immediately that it isn’t just with solitaire games that we encounter this phenomenon.  In the movie The Last Starfighter, there is that moment when little brother Louis Rogan is all over the Starfighter video game telling his brother Alex what to shoot, until Alex has to ask him to move his head out of the way so he can see.  What is most interesting about this is that it seems so real, so true to life-we have all played video games and had someone sitting near us pointing and shouting about them.  Why do people do this?  Obviously they are not playing the game–you are.  What prompts someone to tell you how to play the game you are playing entirely on your own?

  This sort of thing happens even when we aren’t playing alone.  Who has never been playing in a friendly card game with a few people and had someone who isn’t playing come around behind him to look at his hand, and even to make veiled (or not so veiled) comments about how it should be played, or whether it’s any good?  Oh, yes, play that; oh, that’s good.  What about chess?  It seems that somebody is always interested in giving you his (or her) detailed advice regarding how to play.  People insist on becoming involved in games in which they are obviously not involved.

  Part of that may be the excitement inherent in watching a good tense game.  Certainly if we see an exciting moment, we want to be part of it.  Like spectators rooting for a ball team, we feel a part of it merely by watching, and often we think we know the best thing for the team to do.  Hardcore fans of various sports are always yelling their advice toward the players on the field, or cursing them for not doing what from the stands appeared so obvious.  Yet this doesn’t sufficiently explain the phenomenon.  It seems clear from the interest people take in the rather dull game of Solitaire that there must be some other motivating factor at work, some reason spectators are drawn into a game in which they are not players.

  The answer that comes to me may be almost too obvious.  Spectators want to be involved with you because you are playing a game.  Games are social activities, and are perceived as such even when they are designed to be played alone, or when they are being played by others with others.  So the person on the video game or playing with the cards or otherwise involved in an exclusive game is involved in an activity the rest of us perceive as social, and we want to be part of it.  From a psychosocial perspective, this is rather interesting; the person who deals himself a hand of solitaire or picks up the video game controller may be attempting to communicate to others that he wishes to withdraw from interaction with them, but because he is playing a game and we understand games to be social activities, he actually encourages us to interact with him.

  There is a sense in which that interaction is superficial.  If I tell you which way to go in your video game, or warn you of incoming enemy fighters, or suggest what strategy to follow in your card play, I’m not even really playing the game with you.  I’m certainly not sharing anything deep or meaningful with you.  Then again, those who rise in the stands and perform their rituals in support of their teams feel like they’re part of the game despite the fact that there’s no rational (and even precious little irrational) reason to think they’re connected to what is actually happening on the field.  I read recently of someone who genuinely believes not only that his presence in front of the television set helps his favorite team win the game, but that he has to wear the right pair of shorts for it to be truly effective.  He’s not socially involved with anyone at that moment; but he feels as if he is, as if he’s part of the team pushing on to victory.

  That superficial connection may be enough.  It is at least the starting point for a relationship.  Games ultimately are about playing together, and through playing together sharing time, and through sharing time sharing ideas, and through sharing ideas coming to know each other, and through coming to know each other building solid friendships which may last for years.

  So get together with a few people this weekend and play a game.  Call some old friends whom you haven’t seen for a while and invite them over.  Ask a few co-workers or fellow students what they’re doing later.  It doesn’t have to be a role playing game, but it could be.  You don’t have to invite them over for a role playing game specifically even if that’s what you have in mind.  Don’t make the distinction; maybe don’t even make the commitment.  So, what do you guys want to play?  We’ve got Monopoly™, Mille Bornes™, Dungeons & Dragons™, Multiverser™, Clue, pinochle, Legends of Alyria, and a couple of others here.  Any game will do; just spend time with them.  It’s a great way to get to know each other.

  Next week, something different.

—–

M. Joseph Young is co-author of Multiverser and Vice President for Development at Valdron Inc.  His many contributions to online literature are indexed for convenience, and he looks forward to discussing these things by e-mail or on our Gaming Outpost forums.