The Grabbing Hands, Grab All They Can, All For Themselves, After All, It's A Competitive World, Everything Counts In Large Amounts
--"Everything Counts", Depeche Mode
Some have called Small World a diceless version of Risk with powers. Others have labeled it a war game with most of the elements of randomness and chance removed. I happen to believe its definition may be a bit broader in scope than anything which can be summed up in a single chance. Make no mistake about it--it is a war game at it's heart. Armies both advance and retreat on other armies. The players as these armies' generals do make tactical and strategic decisions based on the single goal of obtaining the most area, and, by extension, the most power. However, I think at its heart there is something more symbolic underpinning the entire context of the game.
At its heart, I believe the board game Small World is nothing less than the pursuit of racial diversity given form.
For those of you who might not be familiar with the game, the game's publisher, Days of Wonder summarizes it thusly on their website (http://www.daysofwonder.com/smallworld/en/):
It's a fun game. I enjoy it a lot. Just yesterday I played it three times in the span of ten hours. And it wasn't because I was particularly fond of theme. Finding a fantasy-themed board games is about as hard to find as finding a church open on Sundays. And it wasn't because I liked its predecessor, Vinci. I liked it because there are fourteen different races in the game and they all more or less--the merit of the Dwarves is still being contested--provide the players a different, but equal, shot at winning the game. The Merchant Ratmen are just as likely to be as power-hungry and maniacal as the Seafaring Giants are likely to be cunning and devious. One player's Fortified Amazons can provide the keys to victory as the next player's Stout Halflings. In that concept alone I think the designer Phillippe Keyaerts should be commended. His previous effort with the same concepts, Vinci, lacked that certain something that makes a gameplaying session make the leap from being "just a game" to becoming a fully realized experience, to pronouncing it as a full-blown event worthy of remembering.
It's one thing to say my race has +1 coming off mountain terrain or my race is just as strong when they decline as when they are active, but by giving each of the races a name, you give it some immediacy and you let the player identify with the "meat" of the game. It's one thing to say my guys attack your guys, and leave it at that. But it brings the game another level when you say your Forest Tritons are currently decimating Dragon Master Skeletons. When you give groups names, when you definite the borders of where they live as their home, when you start identifying them as a collective, they become less pieces on a game board and become more like people we have an affinity for.
It's just like real life.
----
I've gone most of my life attempting to shut the rest of the world out. I've been accused many times of being xenophobic. I always had this thought that I'm never going to visit the rest of the world, I've never wanted to see any place outside of the United States, so why would it matter to learn anything more than I had to about it. I learned what I had to in high school and college. I wouldn't say I know nothing about International events; stuff leaks in one way or another regarding other countries. Yet for the most part I never had one inkling of desire to further my knowledge about the world intentionally. I turned off the news whenever the focus shifted to the global scene. My mind became numb whenever I was called upon to give an opinion about some huge crisis affecting a place halfway around the world. I slowly tuned out my curiosity for anything that was not at least nationally relevant. Everything in this county became what I thought of as us, everything else was what was happening to them. And I really didn't care what was happening to them. I had stripped whole countries of names, places, and events, and replaced it with a generalized "over there" concept.
It's not happening here; it's happening "over there."
They're not us; they're "over there."
It's not important to me; it's only important "over there."
picture it now
see just how
the lies and deceit
gained a little more power
But since I started reading blogs like my friend Cooper's Wonderland or Not (http://wonderlandornot.net) and my old friend Jina's Notes From Central Africa (http://jinamoore.com), I've started learning more about the neighborhood that exists outside of my front door. I've actually started to look out my windows now and again. I might not be ready to metaphorically leave the confines of my living room, but I can honestly say I'm not oblivious to the notion that what happens down the block does have some bearing on me. I'm open to the fact that no man, or no country, for that matter, is a completely an island.
And every man and every country has an agenda. Every man and every country has a game plan. Most importantly, every man and every country has a name.
----
That idea didn't really crystallize until I played Small World. It's a board game, yes, but an individual like me, somebody with a modicum of imagination, can't help but take it to that next level. What would a Pillaging Human actually do to Hill Orc if the battles they fought were fought in the real world? It's all well and good to remove that Orc token from the board; it's a different story when you realize that removal could mean death, could mean torture, raping, razing, and a half-dozen other time-honored tactics of war. It's all well and good to extend one's borders in the game by conquest; it's a different story when you realize that extending borders means displacing the units, the people already there. It's all well and good to announce a civilization is going in decline; it's a different story when you realize a civilization going into decline wouldn't be a good thing as it is in the game. It means a loss of population, a loss of culture, and a loss of experiences that most will never know.
Small World isn't a game that is only relevant to people who play board games. It's a game that's also relevant to anyone who has ever marginalized another human being by refusing them the simple act of acknowledging their identity. When people become numbers and statistic, when countries become colors on a map, and when the captain of your P.E. basketball team says he picks "the slanty-eyed" guy, that's the idea present in most games of war. Small World is kind of a radical departure from most war games that either adhere to emotionally flacid pawns on a map or stray too far into historical minutiae. Small World, by giving each of its fourteen races separate identities and personalities, and by not basing them on specific historical cultures, invites people to imagine a world where borders are being fought over, where people (or Giants or Ratmen or Amazons) are dying every moment, where there are far too little resources for far too many people.
It never spells it out, but the implication is there. Violence is a part of our world as it is a part of Small World. But maybe, just maybe, we can take a cue from the game and acknowledge that faceless violence is a lot easier to swallow than violence which you can put a name to, which you can put a picture (playfully illustrated or mercilessly photographed) to, which you can empathize with instead of stoically disregard.
What we have is a handful of different races... and not a single one of them inherently all-evil or all-good--each of them sharing a piece of this small world of ours.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Some have called Small World a diceless version of Risk with powers. Others have labeled it a war game with most of the elements of randomness and chance removed. I happen to believe its definition may be a bit broader in scope than anything which can be summed up in a single chance. Make no mistake about it--it is a war game at it's heart. Armies both advance and retreat on other armies. The players as these armies' generals do make tactical and strategic decisions based on the single goal of obtaining the most area, and, by extension, the most power. However, I think at its heart there is something more symbolic underpinning the entire context of the game.At its heart, I believe the board game Small World is nothing less than the pursuit of racial diversity given form.
For those of you who might not be familiar with the game, the game's publisher, Days of Wonder summarizes it thusly on their website (http://www.daysofwonder.com/smallworld/en/):
In Small World, players vie for conquest and control of a world that is simply too small to accommodate them all.
Designed by Philippe Keyaerts as a fantasy follow-up to his award-winning Vinci™, Small World is inhabited by a zany cast of characters such as dwarves, wizards, amazons, giants, orcs and even humans; who use their troops to occupy territory and conquer adjacent lands in order to push the other races off the face of the earth.
Picking the right combination from the 14 different fantasy races and 20 unique special powers, players rush to expand their empires - often at the expense of weaker neighbors. Yet they must also know when to push their own over-extended civilization into decline and ride a new one to victory!
It's a fun game. I enjoy it a lot. Just yesterday I played it three times in the span of ten hours. And it wasn't because I was particularly fond of theme. Finding a fantasy-themed board games is about as hard to find as finding a church open on Sundays. And it wasn't because I liked its predecessor, Vinci. I liked it because there are fourteen different races in the game and they all more or less--the merit of the Dwarves is still being contested--provide the players a different, but equal, shot at winning the game. The Merchant Ratmen are just as likely to be as power-hungry and maniacal as the Seafaring Giants are likely to be cunning and devious. One player's Fortified Amazons can provide the keys to victory as the next player's Stout Halflings. In that concept alone I think the designer Phillippe Keyaerts should be commended. His previous effort with the same concepts, Vinci, lacked that certain something that makes a gameplaying session make the leap from being "just a game" to becoming a fully realized experience, to pronouncing it as a full-blown event worthy of remembering.
It's one thing to say my race has +1 coming off mountain terrain or my race is just as strong when they decline as when they are active, but by giving each of the races a name, you give it some immediacy and you let the player identify with the "meat" of the game. It's one thing to say my guys attack your guys, and leave it at that. But it brings the game another level when you say your Forest Tritons are currently decimating Dragon Master Skeletons. When you give groups names, when you definite the borders of where they live as their home, when you start identifying them as a collective, they become less pieces on a game board and become more like people we have an affinity for.
It's just like real life.
----
I've gone most of my life attempting to shut the rest of the world out. I've been accused many times of being xenophobic. I always had this thought that I'm never going to visit the rest of the world, I've never wanted to see any place outside of the United States, so why would it matter to learn anything more than I had to about it. I learned what I had to in high school and college. I wouldn't say I know nothing about International events; stuff leaks in one way or another regarding other countries. Yet for the most part I never had one inkling of desire to further my knowledge about the world intentionally. I turned off the news whenever the focus shifted to the global scene. My mind became numb whenever I was called upon to give an opinion about some huge crisis affecting a place halfway around the world. I slowly tuned out my curiosity for anything that was not at least nationally relevant. Everything in this county became what I thought of as us, everything else was what was happening to them. And I really didn't care what was happening to them. I had stripped whole countries of names, places, and events, and replaced it with a generalized "over there" concept.
It's not happening here; it's happening "over there."
They're not us; they're "over there."
It's not important to me; it's only important "over there."
picture it now
see just how
the lies and deceit
gained a little more power
But since I started reading blogs like my friend Cooper's Wonderland or Not (http://wonderlandornot.net) and my old friend Jina's Notes From Central Africa (http://jinamoore.com), I've started learning more about the neighborhood that exists outside of my front door. I've actually started to look out my windows now and again. I might not be ready to metaphorically leave the confines of my living room, but I can honestly say I'm not oblivious to the notion that what happens down the block does have some bearing on me. I'm open to the fact that no man, or no country, for that matter, is a completely an island.
And every man and every country has an agenda. Every man and every country has a game plan. Most importantly, every man and every country has a name.
----
That idea didn't really crystallize until I played Small World. It's a board game, yes, but an individual like me, somebody with a modicum of imagination, can't help but take it to that next level. What would a Pillaging Human actually do to Hill Orc if the battles they fought were fought in the real world? It's all well and good to remove that Orc token from the board; it's a different story when you realize that removal could mean death, could mean torture, raping, razing, and a half-dozen other time-honored tactics of war. It's all well and good to extend one's borders in the game by conquest; it's a different story when you realize that extending borders means displacing the units, the people already there. It's all well and good to announce a civilization is going in decline; it's a different story when you realize a civilization going into decline wouldn't be a good thing as it is in the game. It means a loss of population, a loss of culture, and a loss of experiences that most will never know.
Small World isn't a game that is only relevant to people who play board games. It's a game that's also relevant to anyone who has ever marginalized another human being by refusing them the simple act of acknowledging their identity. When people become numbers and statistic, when countries become colors on a map, and when the captain of your P.E. basketball team says he picks "the slanty-eyed" guy, that's the idea present in most games of war. Small World is kind of a radical departure from most war games that either adhere to emotionally flacid pawns on a map or stray too far into historical minutiae. Small World, by giving each of its fourteen races separate identities and personalities, and by not basing them on specific historical cultures, invites people to imagine a world where borders are being fought over, where people (or Giants or Ratmen or Amazons) are dying every moment, where there are far too little resources for far too many people.
It never spells it out, but the implication is there. Violence is a part of our world as it is a part of Small World. But maybe, just maybe, we can take a cue from the game and acknowledge that faceless violence is a lot easier to swallow than violence which you can put a name to, which you can put a picture (playfully illustrated or mercilessly photographed) to, which you can empathize with instead of stoically disregard.
What we have is a handful of different races... and not a single one of them inherently all-evil or all-good--each of them sharing a piece of this small world of ours.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: Depeche Mode, diversity, knowledge, Small World, violence
posted by mojo shivers @ 1:09 AM
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