Unplugging: An New Old Trend in Gaming and Communication

As I finished writing what was going to be my newest blog post this morning, I realized that my post was too lengthy to be a post, so I decided to publish it as an article on Epinions:

Unplugging: An New Old Trend in Gaming and Communication

In general, this article reflects my views on gaming, challenging people to step away from Internet-based and even technology-based entertainment in favor of face-to-face interaction and board games. This article seems to run counter to my enjoyment of video games, but I proposed a moderate approach to video games in which we play video games but only for a set amount of time and with people in the same room. For example, arcades twenty years ago were social hubs of interpersonal interaction and shared physical space, even if people were facing video game screens.

Anyway, to summarize, I support more board game time and face-to-face time, and less Internet time and social media time. Slowly, methodically, we are being enfolded into a electrically-powered technological collective that both shatters physical space and creates binary walls. We must overcome these walls and realize physical space once again, but endeavor to obliterate physical space by simply stepping away from screens and stepping towards each other.

Advance to Boardwalk: 1HN High-Rise Unit Builder

Whenever I go to a retailer like Target or Wal-Mart, I am surprised at the board games I find and how they've stood the test of time. Some games, in my estimation, are worthy of their longevity: Monopoly (in which the outside-the-game-rules negotiations are more fun than the game itself), Stratego, Clue, and Scrabble come to mind. Conversely, there are some games that shouldn't have lasted this long, particularly Risk, which I loathe immensely; I can't count how many times my massive armies have been defeated by "lucky" defense die rolls. Also, games like Sorry! and Trouble seem to make new fans of children every generation because of their tactile in-game elements (like the dice popper in Trouble) and simple rules.

But, some games have come and gone, much to my chagrin. One of those games was Advance to Boardwalk, which Parker Brothers published in the 1980s. It was spun off from the Monopoly universe with Uncle Moneybags prominently included on the packaging and on the in-game cards. The premise of Advance to Boardwalk was deceptively simple: amass more wealth than your opponents by building up units (which are like floors in a skyscraper) that comprise high-priced hotels along a beachfront boardwalk. In the game, you roll a color-coded die to determine which area of properties on which you can build, and another two dice (I think) to determine the total dollar value of units you can build on that color. As gameplay progresses, you can build units on top of other players' units; if your units outnumber an opponent's units, you gain control of the property, which means you move up the boardwalk (which is marked with dollar amounts) and your opponent moves down the boardwalk. Each property has different inherent values, so some properties are more favorable yet more difficult on which to build because a higher rolled amount is required to be able to build on those properties. Along the way, there are "Fortune" cards that either allow a player to gain an advantage (such as "Windfall" cards that provide an infusion of capital for building) or create obstacles for opponents (such as "Hurricane" cards that can wipe the units off a property). Gameplay ends when one player has used up all of his or her units (you get 15-17 units with which to build at the start of gameplay).

As I write this blog entry, I am not aware of the publishing history of Advance to Boardwalk except of what I know personally, but I can safely say that the game was available in the 1980s, but then faded into obscurity. It was only during a recent clearing of my grandma's rafters that I found this game amidst a treasure trove of my old packed games (which included several Nintendo and Colecovision cartridges). I unearthed it, dusted it off, and played a round with my family, who were sadly unimpressed by the game. I suppose that equating units of building to money value isn't as direct or exciting as acquiring a group of properties and then building houses (a la Monopoly). However, I find Advance to Boardwalk to be more rewarding and less time-consuming than Monopoly. Unlike Monopoly, you can gain (and lose) properties each turn; and you can rise and fall so quickly in Advance to Boardwalk, while you tend to amass wealth slowly in Monopoly and then crush opponents quite suddenly until there are two people who own the entire board. Then, it's only a few turns before one player loses his shirt paying the other player an exorbitant amount of rent. While Monopoly games can seem interminable, Advance to Boardwalk can be played in 30-45 minutes and can result in numerous grudges and vows of vengeance, which may spur another game right after it. Okay, I'm joking about the vows of vengeance, but I can see that it would be hard to NOT have a grudge after you watch your opponent build two or three units on your property and usurp the $7 million of value, putting him or her seven spaces up and you seven spaces down -- a 14-space swing!

Anyway, Advance to Boardwalk should've gotten more of a chance at becoming a classic because it really is a fun, addictive game with a deeper layer of strategy than Monopoly, which relies much on dice rolls. In Advance to Boardwark, you do roll to determine how much "money" you have to build, as well as the color of properties on which you build, but you also have to decide (assuming you roll a "10," for instance) if you want to build two units on the $5-million-dollar property (which would move you up five spaces on the board) or two units on the $3-million-dollar one and one unit on the $4-million-dollar one (which would move you up seven spaces). There are many lead changes in the game and, often, it can take one play to reverse your fortunes and win the game, even if you spent most of the game in the back of the pack. If you can find it, I recommend Advance to Boardwalk; challenge even your hard-core gamer friends and let me know how much fun you have from a once-mainstream game.

Simplicity: 1HN Better than Realism

Today, a wistful feeling has overcome me. As I see events unfold around me, I am disturbed and deeply saddened by how my beliefs are challenged and I am viewed as anachronistic and a relic for what I believe...

I'm talking about video games, of course...

Granted, some things haven't changed much since I received my first video game console (a Colecovision) thirty years ago. One thing that hasn't changed is the general popularity of video games. Back in the early 80s, Atari, Intellivison, and Colecovision were extremely popular as game commercials dominated the airwaves, store shelves were well-stocked with games, and most of the kids I knew had at least one of those systems. When the Nintendo Entertainment System came out in 1985, it was an even bigger deal; I have indelible memories of ROB the Robot and Excitebike from times I spent at my friend Brian's house. Fast-forward to now, video games are still popular among the young and now the old, as well. Another thing that hasn't changed is how video games can bring disparate social groups together. Whether it be Starcraft across the Internet or a bunch of neighborhood kids huddled around a Wii, video games unify people. A third thing that hasn't changed much is the characters. Thanks to the staying power of such icons as Mario, Sonic, Snake, Samus Aran, the Belmont family, and Earthworm Jim (he's still popular... right?!), the nostalgia of the past lives in the gloss and sheen of the superior graphics and sound of the present.

However, much has also changed with the passage of time. Some may argue that games nowadays are not as "hard," and that you don't need the practice and precision of past games to master today's games; but some may counter and say that games as less "cheesy" than, say, Ninja Gaiden II or Rush 'n Attack (of which I have a fond disdain). Some may opine about the realism of first-person-shooters and how games just seem more violent today, while some may respond that games are no less violent today than 8-bit shooters like Contra or Metal Gear; "It's not that games are more violent, but that they're just more graphic," some may observe. There is also the complexity of games today, in which you can play for hours on end and barely stratch the surface of a convoluted storyline; conversely, you could finish The Legend of Zelda in eight hours or so (which would be insane, but still...).

One cannot argue with the cliche that "the more things change, the more things stay the same." Yet, as I watch the visual and auditory quality of games escalate with improving technologies, and the sheer number of buttons and analog sticks increase with each new in-game function, I am reminded that today's games lack something that past games had in spades: simplicity. Remember the Atari 2600 with its one joystick and one button? I challenge you to find an easier game to learn, but harder game to master on the Wii than Pitfall was on the Atari with just its one button. Remember the NES with its two buttons, or the Sega Genesis with its three buttons? Remember how easy it was for an inexperienced friend to come over and play games with (or against) you on those consoles because the controls were easier to master? I challenge you to train your inexperienced friend about how to play any current EA Sports game on the XBox and its ten buttons...

Besides simplicity, which factors into what I am about to state, games of the past seem lighter by today's standards. Whereas now one can get lost in a game world and not emerge for days, I could play a Genesis game for a couple hours and then walk away and enjoy the rest of my day. In this way, games today are immersive to a fault. Of course, some may argue that The Legend of Zelda or other older RPGs were the same way, but I could walk away after a few hours. Try doing that with Mass Effect or any of those story-based games... It's difficult.

But, the most apparent difference between the games of the past and today's games is the creativity it took to render great games with such comparatively poor resolution. Compare Super Mario Bros. on the NES to Super Mario Bros. on the Wii; obviously, the Wii trumps the NES big time, but think about the limitations those Nintendo programmers had to overcome to render a classic game on the NES. For the Wii, on the other hand, the developers had much more to work with when it came to graphics and sound.

Upon reflection, my wistful feelings about video games come from remembrances of more carefree times with friends in high school or college when we sat around and laughed at buddies messing up in a game, or discussed strategy or if the Genesis or the SNES versions of games were better. I suppose that kids today may look back on 2012 when they're adults and feel the same. The interesting thing I've observed, though, is that there is a fervent attempt to make games simpler with motion capture, as with the XBox Kinect and the Wii's long-in-the-tooth wand-based controls. Perhaps, we are seeing a renaissance of simplicity in gaming, pulling in a new generation of youngsters, but I contend that the retro-charm of jaggedly rendered 8-bit characters will always transcend the smooth textures of today's sprites because, as with many things in this world, we will always look backwards and remember we could walk away from a couple hours (or less) of play and be satisfied, while one often fills the day with gaming today to get their fix. In this way, realism isn't always good, and I am saddened to see that people today put that much stock in the realism afforded to us by stellar graphics and movie-quality sound when video games are best played as a brief escape from reality.

Doorways to Adventure: 1HN Treasure Hunting, VHS-style

Back in the 1980s, you got to watch the latest movies either on cable TV or by renting the VHS cassette at a local video rental store. I am not including laserdisc or Betamax because hardly anyone owned either medium and Betamax died in the early 80s. Anyway, if you didn't have cable TV, you watched movies on VHS. In the mid-80s, Pressman, among other companies, came up with an intriguing idea: instead of using a video-cassette recorder (VCR) to just watch movies, why not create games that use VHS cassettes, along with game cards and other realia? At the time, this was a novel idea; yeah, we had Atari, Intellivision, and Colecovision (until the NES emerged in 1985), so using a TV for interactive entertainment wasn't entirely new, but using a VCR for a game was unexplored territory.

In 1986, for Christmas, I asked for two games that incorporated VHS: Doorways to Adventure and Doorways to Horror, both created by Pressman. My parents gave me Doorways to Adventure, and I am glad they did. Doorways to Adventure is actually a rather straightforward game: the object of the game is to obtain the highest combined value of treasures by the time the VHS tape ends. Let me describe the format for you. First, you watch the first segment on the tape, which was some amusing or overly dramatic scene from some classic B-level adventure or action movie (such as Abbott and Costello clips). As you watch the movie clip, you are told that there is a particular kind of treasure on which you were to bid, be it precious metals, an art object, a deed to property, or jewelry. Next, you are told that you have to pay a ransom in the form of food, clothing, a shield, or other object (in the context of gameplay, these ransom objects are special blue-backed cards you retain in your hand). If you do not possess the appropriate ransom card, you must pay a bribe from a pool of money you are given at the start of the game. After you have either paid the ransom or bribe for the object, all players put out bid cards (special yellow-backed cards) face-down and then flip the cards simultaneously. Whoever has the highest bid wins the object. After the winning player receives a treasure card corresponding with the object, someone rolls a special color-coded die; the VHS cassette is then fast-forwarded to the next clip with a "doorway" title screen with the same color as what was was rolled. These steps are repeated until the end of the tape is reached. I could go in-depth about the prevalent strategies in the game, such as which kinds of treasure are more advantageous to obtain or the role of the "Key" and how to steal it, but the basic gist of the game is that you try to end up with highest total value of treasure, all the while bidding against other players and watching some hilariously cheesy movie clips of movies dating from the 1930s to the 1970s.

For a 12-year-old, Doorways to Adventures was undeniably fun, but I faced one problem: I was an only child, which meant I didn't have brothers or sisters that I could ask/compel to play with me. Also, my parents weren't the gaming types; they much preferred watching TV or hanging out with their friends when they chose to do so. With this in mind, I didn't have a ready pool of opponents against which I could play. I did have my friend Brian, who was game to play a few times; but, beyond him, the landscape of prospective competitors was barren and lifeless. Thus, the game was largely unplayed and remained in my closet for several years until it was packed up with my other board games and put into storage at my grandma's house.

A few years ago, I rediscovered the game in my grandma's rafters and showed it to my sons and wife. My sons were intrigued, so I relearned the game and played it with them. At first, my sons were confused by the rules, but they caught on quickly and were outbidding each other (and me) by the time we passed through the first few doorways. They began to grasp the concept that, for example, getting a bunch of Precious Metals was more profitable than focusing on Art Objects in the long run. They also enjoyed stealing the Key from each other and stealing treasure from each other whenever one spotted water or fire in a movie clip (note: there are "Steal Treasure with Water" and "Steal Treasure with Fire" cards that allow you to take an opponent's treasure if water or fire are present in the movie clip). We eventually roped my wife into playing a game with us, which can last two hours. Despite the length, when we all have the time to play, we are consistently amused and bemused in equal measure as treasures are gained and lost with alarming regularity.

Doorways to Adventure is an integral part of my family's game rotation, though the game length can be incredibly protracted if bidding and stealing become fierce. This is so much so that whenever one of us suggests that game for Family Night, the other three of us will cringe, look at the clock, and say, "That game takes TOO long." Nonetheless, Doorways to Adventure is one of those games, along with some of my NES games, that is seeing new life now because, unlike the time of my youth, I have a pool of people with whom I can play. Whenever I have the time and mental space to play Doorways to Adventure, I feel like the 12-year-old inside of me gets to do what he never got to do in 1986: play his games with other people. Considering that, I implore you, the reader, to hold onto, or find, your old games because someday you may have a new generation of opponents with whom to play right under your own roof.