[016] Making Games Every Day for a Month, Day 4 of 31: Oware

"Many games now thought to be mere children's pastimes are, in fact, relics of religious rituals." - Frederic V. Grunfeld, Games of the World (1975)

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I began the day on the beach.

I came home with many, many stones in my pockets.

Today, we'll be making the game of Oware, or Wari, which you may know as Mancala.

I remember Mancala as an exceptionally boring game when I was a kid. I don't know about you, but at my elementary school, we played with the rule that you got to keep taking turns as long as you didn't end your turn on an empty spot. It was boring as hell, waiting for your turn, watching your opponent rack up the points.

But that's not Oware! The older set of rules that define Oware are much more fun that the modern version we call Mancala. Tic-Tac-Toe, too, is wimpy and unfun compared to his great-great-grandaddy, Three Man's Morris . This isn't always true, but there are many such cases. My understanding of Oware is that it is similar to Chess, in that it was historically a test of leadership, strategy, and wit. I find this kind of thing very interesting. I don't think many people nowadays would want to choose their leaders based on their skill at Chess (or, god forbid, Monopoly). But it wasn't that long ago that Chess was seen as a real measure of martial ability. In fact, it could be argued that all of modern war simulations and wargames are just Chess DLC.

Maybe the closest thing we have to a game-based meritocracy in America is the game of Football. Lots of professional athletes go on to have high-profile careers in business and politics and culture.

I think of these as examples of a Ludocracy, from the latin ludum/ludo/ludus, which refers to the playing of games. I would argue that we do have a parial Football ludocracy at work in this country. The skill of being good at Football is congruent with being perceived as an effective leader. Our national spirit favors aggressive play, strong team identities, dramatic moments, and lots of scheming in between moments of action. Don't you think? It kind of fits, right?

Soccer, the game of the rest of the world, might inspire a ludocracy that favors more passing, sharing, fast-paced communication, and uninterrupted play. Soccer, too, encourages strong tribalism between teams, like Football does. Is this analysis of cultures really true? I'm not sure, but it's a compelling lens with which to examine groups of people.

What would a ludocracy based on Yahtzee look like? Would that be a culture that embraced more luck and randomness? What about a ludocracy of Scrabble? A society of word dorks and literature nerds?

Personally, I think I'd enjoy a ludocracy rooted in the game of Tag. One person has all the power, and everyone else runs around going nana-nana-boo-boo.

The influence of a ludocracy goes both ways. In a culture where leaders are chosen based on their prowess in Chess or Football, children are taught to excel in those games. We are teaching to the test, in a way.

Adults who pass on these game to children hope that the associated values are also instilled in the next generation: teamwork, strategic thinking, willpower, communication, etc.

So, in a competitive sport like Tennis, you're learning how to move quickly and predict your opponent, but you're also being tested on your innate abilities too. It becomes a talent vs practice question, or a nature vs nurture question. Does a ludocratic game bring out the innate talent of a chosen few, or does a ludocratic game instill a worldview into the general population?

I first started thinking through a ludocratic lens after reading Venkatesh Rao's post on traditional games from India . It's really quite an incredible short essay.

Rao describes the strengths of Indian games, including breathlessness, leaderlessness, and a dynamic tension between teamwork and individual heroism. He writes that these things are also reflected in the Indian national character and spirit. I find this kind of insight fascinating.

In various books on games and the history of play, I notice that there is a slippery slope of ethnic categorization and racism that many authors find all too compelling. African games are often categorized as "primitive," while games from Asia are described as "decadent." It's old-fashioned and reductive and a very poor way to understand cultural objects, in my opinion.

I consider games similar to food. Different game mechanics provide different social nutrition to groups. Games provide a variety of interesting moments, just like food provides a variety of interesting flavors. Games allow us to be close to each other, to cheer each other onwards, to wrestle each other to the ground, to see each other in new contexts, to experience theophanic victory and crushing defeat.

In the same way, the different foods of any particular place or time provide a different mix of nutrients. Some people have to dehydrate seawater for their salt, while others have an abundance in nearby mineral deposits. Some people have to work very hard for all available protein, while others can spend a day netting fish and enjoy meat for a whole season.

So, instead of classifying cultures based on the games they play, a slightly different angle that I prefer is to consider the moments that those games facilitate. The individual "tasting notes," as Ben Orlin calls them in Math Games with Bad Drawings .

In a game of Oware, you are only allowed to pick up stones from your own side of the board. The game ends when a player has no more stones on their side of the board, and therefore cannot play another turn. Here is a tasting note, then: on every turn, you must ensure your own abundance, and keep famine away.

However, as you play, almost always you will find yourself sowing stones onto your opponent's side of the board. Another tasting note: you cannot win without sometimes helping your opponent to prosper as well.

So, when considering the games you play, consider the tasting notes of experience which are provided by the game. Consider what skills and talents are necessary to be victorious. In a game of Monopoly, for example, a ruthless patience for wealth accumulation is crucial to winning the game.

Next time you sit down to play a game - and I hope it is Oware that you are playing - ask yourself, what would a ludocracy of this game look like? What kind of world would that be?

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"People can't anticipate how much they'll miss the natural world until they are deprived of it." - Mary Roach, Packing for Mars