Hey guys,
i would appreciate a quick read
Prompt:
From game theory to Ultimate Frisbee to the great Chicago Scavenger Hunt, we at the University of Chicago take games seriously. We bet you do, too. Even if "just a game," sport, play, and other kinds of games seem to share at the very least an insistence that we take seriously a set of rules entirely peculiar to the circumstance of the game. You might say, in order to play a game we must take it seriously. Think playfully-or play thoughtfully-about games: how they distract us or draw us into the world, create community and competition, tease us and test us with stakes both set apart from and meaningful to everyday life. Don't tell us about The Big Game; rather, tell us about players and games.
"Ventnor! Pay up!" This is how I have been spending my Friday evenings since I can remember. While most of my friends are out on the town, catching a movie or enjoying a nice dinner, I am at home, carefully moving a silver thimble across a game board that has basically defined my teenage years. My family's obsession with the board game Monopoly came about when, as a young child, I was entranced by the image of a "Family Game Night" on television. I was seven, and through my whines and pleads, my mother finally agreed to have us all stay in one night so we could become that family I so badly wanted to be, playing games (from HasbroĊ½ of course). Initially, we rotated between Twister, the Game of Life, Guesstures, and Monopoly. Twister eventually became too physically demanding, the Game of Life too stressful (my sister did not enjoy being told she would have seven boys) and Guesstures' ticking noise too irritating, so Monopoly became the game of choice for our Friday family game nights. Between the stealthy attempts at landing on someone else's property without being noticed and the joy of finally being able to afford a hotel on Park Place, something about this game had captivated my family.
The years went on, but our Monopoly obsession continued, it was still the alarm that went off every Friday at 7:30 PM that brought us together. We even took the game to Florida with us to play while on vacation once. It goes without saying that some good family moments were spent with the five of us crowded around the blue board-bonding at its finest. Nowhere else was I comfortable enough to admit defeat; in a sense it was the idea of losing to my younger brother and witnessing his victory dance that sometimes made the game so exciting. Moreover, my strength lied in bringing up trending topics of the week in the efforts of having someone else forget the fact that my silver thimble had landed on their property. Although cliché, winning was never what it was about, as the times we spent together as a family made the points as to who ended up with the most properties or who went bankrupt first unimportant. However, the idea of playing against family members with a desire to prove to each other who the best Boardwalk businessman was strengthened our relationship through competition.
It was probably the idea of taking on the role of a business tycoon that had enraptured my family, so much so that my siblings and I would call each other by the names of our game play pieces. Monopoly drew us in because it allowed us to enter a parallel universe, and create for ourselves a reflection of who we wanted to be, ruthlessly parading around Atlantic City, purchasing as many properties as was humanly possible. Taking the game seriously was also crucial; my father answering a company call in the middle of the game could have cost him ownership of Marvin Gardens.
Games are unique in that they have the ability to allow someone to completely forget who they are for some time, transforming the individual into something different in every respect, as was the case in my family's infatuation with Monopoly. Moreover, although many may heavily frown upon it, the idea of winners and losers in games provides for friendly competition; often competing against another individual forges strong relationships and a bonding experience like no other. Games challenge us to take on the role of someone else, while showing us where our strengths and weaknesses lie-the term "game" is applicable to everything. My experiences with games have developed me into a person who believes that through competing, we are able to form and build on relationships that last for a lifetime. I find myself applying the game philosophy to all that I do; sometimes competition is exactly what one needs in order to perform at their best. Games and I have a relationship that has been nurtured since my birth, and it will surely continue to thrive and flourish as I enter the next stage of my life's progress. The money has been dealt out, the properties arranged neatly, and the community chest cards shuffled. I now roll the dice, hoping to land on a property that I can purchase and develop.
i would appreciate a quick read
Prompt:
From game theory to Ultimate Frisbee to the great Chicago Scavenger Hunt, we at the University of Chicago take games seriously. We bet you do, too. Even if "just a game," sport, play, and other kinds of games seem to share at the very least an insistence that we take seriously a set of rules entirely peculiar to the circumstance of the game. You might say, in order to play a game we must take it seriously. Think playfully-or play thoughtfully-about games: how they distract us or draw us into the world, create community and competition, tease us and test us with stakes both set apart from and meaningful to everyday life. Don't tell us about The Big Game; rather, tell us about players and games.
"Ventnor! Pay up!" This is how I have been spending my Friday evenings since I can remember. While most of my friends are out on the town, catching a movie or enjoying a nice dinner, I am at home, carefully moving a silver thimble across a game board that has basically defined my teenage years. My family's obsession with the board game Monopoly came about when, as a young child, I was entranced by the image of a "Family Game Night" on television. I was seven, and through my whines and pleads, my mother finally agreed to have us all stay in one night so we could become that family I so badly wanted to be, playing games (from HasbroĊ½ of course). Initially, we rotated between Twister, the Game of Life, Guesstures, and Monopoly. Twister eventually became too physically demanding, the Game of Life too stressful (my sister did not enjoy being told she would have seven boys) and Guesstures' ticking noise too irritating, so Monopoly became the game of choice for our Friday family game nights. Between the stealthy attempts at landing on someone else's property without being noticed and the joy of finally being able to afford a hotel on Park Place, something about this game had captivated my family.
The years went on, but our Monopoly obsession continued, it was still the alarm that went off every Friday at 7:30 PM that brought us together. We even took the game to Florida with us to play while on vacation once. It goes without saying that some good family moments were spent with the five of us crowded around the blue board-bonding at its finest. Nowhere else was I comfortable enough to admit defeat; in a sense it was the idea of losing to my younger brother and witnessing his victory dance that sometimes made the game so exciting. Moreover, my strength lied in bringing up trending topics of the week in the efforts of having someone else forget the fact that my silver thimble had landed on their property. Although cliché, winning was never what it was about, as the times we spent together as a family made the points as to who ended up with the most properties or who went bankrupt first unimportant. However, the idea of playing against family members with a desire to prove to each other who the best Boardwalk businessman was strengthened our relationship through competition.
It was probably the idea of taking on the role of a business tycoon that had enraptured my family, so much so that my siblings and I would call each other by the names of our game play pieces. Monopoly drew us in because it allowed us to enter a parallel universe, and create for ourselves a reflection of who we wanted to be, ruthlessly parading around Atlantic City, purchasing as many properties as was humanly possible. Taking the game seriously was also crucial; my father answering a company call in the middle of the game could have cost him ownership of Marvin Gardens.
Games are unique in that they have the ability to allow someone to completely forget who they are for some time, transforming the individual into something different in every respect, as was the case in my family's infatuation with Monopoly. Moreover, although many may heavily frown upon it, the idea of winners and losers in games provides for friendly competition; often competing against another individual forges strong relationships and a bonding experience like no other. Games challenge us to take on the role of someone else, while showing us where our strengths and weaknesses lie-the term "game" is applicable to everything. My experiences with games have developed me into a person who believes that through competing, we are able to form and build on relationships that last for a lifetime. I find myself applying the game philosophy to all that I do; sometimes competition is exactly what one needs in order to perform at their best. Games and I have a relationship that has been nurtured since my birth, and it will surely continue to thrive and flourish as I enter the next stage of my life's progress. The money has been dealt out, the properties arranged neatly, and the community chest cards shuffled. I now roll the dice, hoping to land on a property that I can purchase and develop.