What Board Games Mean To Me

By Donna Gregory, Ian Livingstone, John Kovalic and Reiner Knizia

Celebrating the role that board games hold in our lives, celebrities, industry professionals and lifelong gamers share the remarkable and personal stories of their profound love for gaming

People want to feel good about their passions, their hobbies included. People want to talk about them, and to listen to others who share their enthusiasm. This book celebrates that sense of affinity while providing diverse perspectives on board games that will allow readers to reflect on what drives their passion in their own particular case. From uber-competitive players learning to lose with grace to the fascinating history of the very first games humans played, and bonding with far-away stepsiblings to the story of the first board game café in Africa, there’s something here for everyone.

WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM:

Jervis Johnson, KC Ogbuagu, Allen Stroud, Gav Thorpe, Edoardo Albert, Will McDermott, Gabriela Santiago, Holly Nielsen, Fertessa Allyse Scott, Ian Livingstone, Alessio Cavatore, Sen-Foong Lim, John Kovalic, Reiner Knizia, Susan McKinley Ross, Leslie Scott, Geoff Engelstein, Calvin Wong, Jenn Bartlett, Cathleen Williams, Lynn Potyen, Matt Coward-Gibbs, Steve Jackson, Christopher John Eggett, James Wallis, Matt Forbeck, Donna Gregory, Jack Doddy

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aconyte
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781839082719

Donna Gregory

A lifelong hobby gamer with a predilection for customising board game sets, DONNA GREGORY spent two decades editing non-board game books before realising she could combine her passion and her profession and edit books about games. Loves dinosaurs, biscuits, and the wild weather of the western Scottish coast where she lives.

Book preview

Introduction

Donna Gregory

Everyone’s played a game or two at some point, even if only a round of Monopoly at a relative’s house during the holidays or a decades-old copy of Trivial Pursuit on a rainy afternoon. Board games have been around for a long time but over the last four decades there has been an explosion in the number and types of games available to play. There has also been a proliferation of board game cafés and friendly local games stores in cities and towns all over the world. Games night is as much a staple of many modern social lives as a dinner party or a trip to the cinema. Hollywood stars such as Dax Shephard and Kristen Bell skip the post-red carpet parties to go home and play CATAN. BoardGameGeek has more than 100,000 games listed, and crowdfunding platforms such as Kickstarter have made it easier than ever for new, and often independent, designers and publishers to publish their games. The board games industry is projected to grow from US$15 billion in 2021 to US$34 billion by 2030, and has spawned several thriving sub-industries, including podcasts, websites, accessories and more. What’s behind all of this is a story for another book but it’s clear that board games mean much more than mere child’s play to a great number of people.

When approaching people to contribute to this book, it became apparent that almost everyone who loves games values them as a way to spend quality time with people they like. Games remind us of the good times with our friends and family – we tend to play when we’re relaxed, happy and have time to spend with people we like. In today’s busy world, free time is precious and the options for spending that time are infinite. TV, video games, fitness, sports, reading, DIY and social media are all huge draws for most people, and yet the number of board games people play and the amount of time they spend playing them is only increasing. Board games must be giving us something we’re not getting elsewhere.

So, it’s clear that board games mean something – but they don’t mean exactly the same thing to any two people. This book contains a collection of stories from a wide range of people, each telling us what board games mean to them. There are some common themes, and the stories told in this book are grouped into five themed sections, Life, People, Places, Play and Winning and Losing – though neither the sections, nor the individual essays within them, need to be read in order. Some of the stories in this book are written by games designers, publishers and industry experts but others are by people from all walks of life. Of the industry professionals, some talk about their work in the games industry while many have chosen to discuss the more personal stories in which they are simply gamers. The other contributors to this book include writers, a stay-at-home parent, a librarian, parents of children with additional needs, academics, an actor and more – and all have stories to tell about how board games have affected their lives, work and relationships in sometimes surprising ways.

Nowadays, many thousands of people make their living from board games, something which would have been unthinkable just a few decades ago, and in this book you’ll find contributions from some of the pioneers and big names in the industry, as well as many younger talents. Reiner Knizia talks about his design process, as well as some fascinating thoughts on the rise of solo gaming. Fertessa Allyse Scott recounts the story of how she designed her first ever game with crafting supplies bought in her lunch break. Jervis Johnson tells the tale of how he discovered that games could offer some reassuring structure to his younger, somewhat anxious self, while Alessio Cavatore talks frankly about how it feels to receive criticism through the development and release of a new game.

We are often introduced to games by our family members. The importance of games to Susan McKinley Ross’s relationship with her mother led her to develop one of the world’s most popular games, Qwirkle. Gabriela Santiago tells the story of how board games helped her to navigate a tricky stage in her relationship with her younger, far-away half-siblings. Jenga inventor Leslie Scott writes about how the fond memories made playing games with people she loved have stayed with her long after the people themselves are gone. Novelist Will McDermott writes about how important games nights are to him, both with friends and family. Geoff Engelstein tells the story of how, after moving to a new school, he managed to make a new friend by fixing a broken old board game. For my own part, board games have always been the most reliable way to make new friends after moving house, something I’ve done a lot throughout my life, as I talk about in the section on Places.

Games can be more than just a fun way to pass an evening with friends. Author and historian Edoardo Albert recounts how board games were a crucial part of learning to communicate with his autistic sons, and how one of them took his love of Ticket to Ride to surprising ends. Games store owner Lynn Potyen writes about how her experiences with a speech therapist who used board games to help her son with a speech delay led her to open a store and to use games to help people with all sorts of brain differences or illnesses, from Alzheimer’s to autism. And librarian Jenn Bartlett talks about how an idle thought in the shower one day led her to start a board games project at her library.

The essays in this book tell the story of what board games mean to a whole host of individuals, but together they give a broad-ranging view of why board games have become such an important part of popular culture. We imagine that, as a reader, among the different experiences described by our contributors, you’ll find many that you share and can relate to, but also some unfamiliar perspectives as well. We hope that all of these stories will set you thinking about what board games mean to you, too.

Donna Gregory

Scotland, August 2023

Life

The Voice of the Mummy

Geoff Engelstein

Susan pulls the game out of her closet. If you fix it, we can play it.

It is 1977, we’re thirteen years old, and in her room.

The game in question is Voice of the Mummy. The hook of the game is that there is a small vinyl record inside the game board, and the Mummy tells you what to do, as you move around and collect gems.

I don’t remember why I was at Susan’s house. I do remember that I was freaking out inside. I had moved into town a few months prior, and it was the first time I had moved, so it was a new experience. I was not great at making friends.

Like most of you, probably, I was particularly shy and awkward at thirteen. I was not athletic, a little weird, and a lot nerdy. Not a great combination for social acceptance.

Fortunately, I quickly fell in with a nice group of friends, all of whom were a little bit more athletic than I was, a little bit less weird, and mostly not nerdy at all. The most popular of my new friends was Susan. She was funny and smart and beautiful. To me, Susan was the epitome of middle-school cool.

While we were in the same social circle, we weren’t that close. But somehow I ended up at her house. Maybe we were working on a school project? Let’s go with that.

I had never hung out one-on-one with Susan before. What would we talk about? How long could I keep up the conversation before I said something stupid? So I asked, Do you want to play a game?

She agreed, and opened the closet where her games were stored. Most were staples of the 70s, but I had never seen Voice of the Mummy before, so I suggested we try that.

Turns out the record player had been broken for years. But she took it out and said, If you can fix it, we can play it.

Image: Luis Rosas

A smarter person probably would have just suggested we play something else. But I had messed around with electronics a little bit – a very little bit – and decided that this was my opportunity to impress her. Maybe I couldn’t throw or catch, but this was at least something that might work out.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking analytically about games and what makes them tick. While I love mechanics (heck, I even co-wrote a 600-page encyclopedia about them), the more I play, observe and analyze games, the more I realize that games are about creating a space for social interaction – for people.

If you’re socially anxious (like I definitely was at thirteen, and am still now to a certain extent), being at a party or at Susan’s house is a tough situation. How do you go up to people and start talking to them? How do you talk to complete strangers?

This type of unstructured interaction can be really anxiety-inducing for many people. But a game, by its very nature, defines how we can interact. There are steps and actions we take. There is a common topic of conversation we can always fall back on – what’s going on in the game.

Some games, like the cooperative family game Hanabi, even regulate the words that you’re allowed to say.

If you are running a party or event where people don’t know each other, often you’ll start with an icebreaker. These icebreakers are always games. They create a structure that makes it easier for people to interact with each other.

This is why I suggested to Susan that we play a game. When I’m anxious in a social situation, I instinctively reach out for a game, something that will define what we do while we’re hanging out.

I disassembled Voice of the Mummy and got to the record player. With Susan peering over my shoulder, I traced through the wiring and saw that one of the connecting wires had frayed and broken. In short order I was able to splice it back together, and the Mummy had a voice once more.

My gamble paid off. She was duly impressed. We played the game and, while it wasn’t particularly complex or absorbing, we had a good time and laughed throughout.

We were thirteen years old at the time. Thirteen years later we got married.

To me, games aren’t about mechanics or art or theme. They’re about the way they bring people together and give them experiences they remember for a lifetime.

Geoff Engelstein is an award-winning table-top game designer and educator, whose titles include Space Cadets, The Expanse, and Super Skill Pinball. He has written several books, and is also a noted podcaster. Geoff is an adjunct professor of game design at the NYU Game Center. He has degrees in Physics and Electrical Engineering from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and is the president of Mars International, a design engineering firm.

Picture a

Scene

KC Ogbuagu

A Beginning

It’s a beautiful evening in the village, a cool breeze evident in the movement of tree branches and palm fronds. There are the sounds of chickens in the background and the occasional bleat from the goat house. There are small groups of adults smiling and talking as they carry out routine tasks in various corners of the village and then there is a group of children playing outdoors: my cousins, siblings and me.

We only see each other during the Christmas holidays, when we all travel back from the city to the village, and we are consumed with joy. We love getting up to mischief or playing games together, and to the despair of every adult in our extended family who would like us to keep our nice clothes clean, we usually play on the floor outside. On this particular evening, our chosen activity is a game of ncho, known elsewhere as mancala.

You see, in the city, we had the wooden version of the game with pebbles, but it was more exciting to play with stones found on the floor on a board that we traced in the dirt. Looking back, I wonder if it was fun because of the Christmas season or whether it was because of the joy that came from playing with our much-missed cousins; well, we will never know.

Another of my early gaming memories begins in an elementary classroom filled by thirty-five children with an average of seven years old. Seated at the desk at the far end of the third row is an eight year-old me, neatly clothed in a red-and-yellow striped shirt tucked into dark red shorts. On the desk is a collection of rubber bands mischievously hidden with my notebook as I jot down what our class teacher writes on the blackboard – or so she, and everyone else, thinks.

But in truth, I am playing an interesting and very popular game among the kids in my country called Rubber. Rubber is a simple game that basically involved taking turns to throw rubber bands on the floor, trying to get them to land on top of each other. If your rubber band landed atop another child’s rubber band, you got to keep both rubber bands. The best players would end up wearing rubber bands all the way up their arms to their elbows. We played Rubber in the classroom even when there were dire consequences like being flogged. We played Rubber on the streets even when we were banned from playing on the dirt. We played Rubber in churches and anywhere else we could find a rival. We played constantly, and it was fun!

These two particular scenes from my life have played back over and over again in my mind. Now, as a games designer, I remember the feeling I had as a child every time I finish a new prototype. When I see a kid playing one of my games, I can’t help but smile as I remember that feeling. When I support someone to release their own games, I remember that feeling.

Defining Moment

The first big step on my journey to the tabletop gaming world was in 2013, on the campus in the old city of Calabar in Cross River State, Nigeria. Due to a disagreement with the government, the academic staff union embarked on an indefinite strike which eventually lasted for six months. While we were on strike, I promised a friend I would design a game for them. Prior to making such a promise, I had never designed a game before. In fact, I knew so little about games that I didn’t know there were other types of dice apart from D6 (six-sided dice). I knew very little about board games other than the old classics like chess, Whot!, Ludo, Monopoly, Scrabble and, of course, ncho. I still do not know why I made such a commitment.

Within a month, my prototype was ready – I call it a prototype now, but this was the game. It was everything I thought it could be at the time. Stones for tokens, two dice from a Ludo set, a couple of pieces of poorly cut paper as cards, and a rolled-up cardboard sheet for the board. Ukubuwa was born. My first board game! But something happened to me, something that I had never experienced before, something I didn’t expect: I was fulfilled.

I can’t explain it – I was so satisfied to have made a real board game. I never, ever thought of mass production or selling the game rights. It didn’t occur to me. I didn’t even know it was possible! When I saw people playing it for the first time, my twenty-one year-old self had found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I couldn’t explain it fully then and I still can’t explain it fully now.

Another Moment

Fast-forward to 2015. A new scene. It’s dusk in the city of Ikorodu, Lagos State. The streets and the houses are busy with activity. In the sitting room of one of the apartments of a newly built milk-colored one-story building is a group of twenty-one young people; a third of them are from the UK, another third from Kenya, and the rest from different parts of Nigeria. I am not among the twenty-one young people. I am one of the three team leaders, each representing one of the countries. We are there to provide supervision and support for this group of diverse young people who have volunteered to support learning for children in some schools and on the streets.

We have just finished a meeting (these almost always involve settling conflicts between individuals or working groups). At the end of this particular meeting, everyone is agreed that we should host a social hangout to calm nerves and foster unity. One of the planned activities for the hangout is playing games. I don’t fully realize what kinds of games we will be playing until I see the card games some of the UK volunteers have brought with them. This is my second defining moment.

At first, I was shocked, then I was amazed, then amazement turned to excitement. This is the best group so far to share my games with, I said to myself. Over the years, I had taken my game prototype from campus with me on trips and showed it to anyone who was interested. I guess it meant so much to me – so I brought out the worn-out prototype and explained the idea behind the design and also taught the game. The volunteers, including my counterpart team leaders, were surprised that I had designed a game. It was apparently a difficult task and usually takes a lot of processes to design, develop and publish a game. I was hugely inspired and now, a purpose I had found two years earlier had taken a huge push forward, even if that push was only psychological at the time. As you can imagine, they shared a lot of feedback, and some fun memories of playing other games.

After playing my game, a crazy thing happened. They requested that I design another game with more details, like playing time, number of players the game could accommodate, and a theme. For the second time, I made another commitment and three weeks later I had designed a new game based on a childhood Nollywood movie. By the end of the three-month volunteering time, I had designed two more games. That was the beginning of what became NIBCARD Games, a tabletop games company that has gone on to manufacture and published forty-five of my games, manufactured twenty-two more games for clients from two different continents, hosted a yearly tabletop games convention (arguably the first in Sub-Saharan Africa) since 2016, and opened the first tabletop games café in Nigeria.

Daring to Build

NIBCARD Games’ journey has been one of highs and lows, but one thing about a journey is that you are never stagnant. I remember walking the streets of Ikorodu in 2015 dreaming of people playing my games all over the world. That was all I