Even though none of us particularly chose to participate in this version of 2020, we did have a choice about how we approach it. How we approached our careers, how we approached our physical and mental health, how we approached our family, and for some of us, how we approached our ‘intimate’ relationships. Looking back, I’m surprised the approach that worked best for me ended up being one rarely associated positively with relationships: games.
Let me clarify. I’m not talking mind games. Those I hate. Gaslighting, Shaming, Guilt Tripping, Sudoku⏤all of them! Being manipulated (especially through numbers) is obviously not sexy.
And whoa there. Put that dusty Clue box back in your closet. Return the Nintendo Switch. I have no idea how to properly play Catan (Do I want wheat or brick?) and never could get into FarmVille. So WTF am I talking about here?
Back in March, when ‘all this’ started (‘All this’ is the official name of 2020), life kinda felt like a game. The goal? Survive. The rules? No leaving the house or seeing other people. Every day was (and sometimes still is) a complicated maze of survival and sanity. Reality game shows like Big Brother and The Circle went from being laughable to “Oh, I should be taking notes.”
So when I started messaging and reconnecting with someone, without realizing it, we were also using games to get to know each other. Personal trivia, intimate storytelling, role playing, video challenges, drawings, music, maps of our homes and lives. We developed our own revealing versions of Quizzo, Guess Who, Pictionary, Charades, Name that Tune, Strip Poker. I got a point for remembering what movie he saw on a blind date in high school, he lost one for not correctly guessing my favorite Beck song.* Did the points matter? No. But we were having fun playing.
And this was much more fun than playing the game of Survival 2020, which I realized wasn’t a game at all. Jane McGonigal writes in her book Reality is Broken, one of the reasons games make us happy is because they are hard work that we choose for ourselves. I certainly didn’t volunteer for the last six months. And not being able to physically be together, not knowing the future, we easily could have given up on our connection. But we didn’t. We chose to keep playing.
Games provided a fun way to get to know each other during a challenging time, but will they prove just as fun and exciting without the restraints of a pandemic?
McGonigal writes that “Any pair or group of people who consistently play a game together, online or face-to-face, will have increased opportunities to express admiration for each other, to devote themselves to a common goal, to express sympathy for others’ losses and even to fall in love.[…]If the goal is truly compelling, and if the feedback is motivating enough, we will keep wrestling with the game’s limitations⏤creatively, sincerely, and enthusiastically⏤for a very long time.”
I don’t think the games of my future relationships will necessarily be easily identifiable as ‘games’ but their goals will be the same: playing, exploring, learning and, most importantly, choosing to be there. So, if games can provide me the infinite challenge of falling and staying in love, by all means, Player 2, please, please, please keep playing games with my heart.
*Nicotine and Gravy, duh