As families come together to eat, drink and play board games together over Christmas, three Irish Times journalists hone their skills with a 'friendly' game of Monopoly.
THE MOBILE PHONE
In an Anthology of Erotic Prose, which I once bought for research purposes, one of the more memorable stories centred on a couple doing a jigsaw puzzle. I can't remember what the puzzle was. All I remember is they didn't finish it. From the start, they both had their eyes on a bigger picture, and once they found the pieces to fit it together, the jigsaw got scattered.
It wouldn't work with board games. Ludo, maybe. But not chess or Risk, and definitely not Monopoly. Under their social veneer, these games demand too much concentration to allow anything else develop, even a conversation.
I hadn't played Monopoly for 20 years until The Irish Times Magazine asked me to, and it was a pleasant enough experience early on. I acquired properties in Raheny and Rathfarnham, complete with development rights, while simultaneously trying to be good company. This was a tactical mistake. By the third or fourth circuit of the board, I noticed that expensive high-rise apartments were going up all over Clontarf and other areas not owned by me, while Raheny and Rathfarnham remained pleasant but under-developed neighbourhoods that rival Monopoly players could pass through without fear.
Gradually, I stopped talking. But it was too late. Another player, whom I won't name in case of exposing her fiercely competitive streak, had taken a stranglehold on the board. The rest of us were locked in a downward economic spiral. With every circuit, the poor got poorer, and the Róisín Ingles - er, I mean, the rich - got richer. There's a basic flaw in Monopoly. I believe the Chance cards should include such possibilities as: "You develop a sudden, overwhelming dependence on methylated spirits, lose everything, and end up in the gutter." At least it would keep everybody interested to the end.
I shouldn't complain. I used to play a lot of Scrabble and crushed a fair few opponents in my time. But a report on the 2005 world championships made me realise I wasn't remotely competent even at that. The top British player - a former champ - could finish only 52nd this year and blamed a combination of fatherhood and advanced age. He was 39. "Scrabble is a young man's game," he sighed.
Speaking English is not an advantage. The top players learn Scrabble dictionaries - which include words such as "zo", "ky" and "dakoiti" - by rote, and concentrate on spelling. You're considered eccentric in advanced Scrabble circles if you know the meaning of the terms used. The best Irish player finished 80th and said afterwards that the game was not popular here, because "Irish people have too much respect for words".
I realise now that the Scrabble I played was, in competitive terms, closer to jigsaw-making. You could carry on a conversation while doing it. And you never knew where the game would end up. Frank McNally
THE ROLLERBLADE
My family, like most big ones and many small ones, spend time at Christmas playing board games: Monopoly and Escape from Colditz in the 1970s; Trivial Pursuit in the 1980s; Pictionary, Taboo and Scruples in the 1990s. Every year a new game gets brought into the old homestead. In 2004, it was Cranium, the year before that Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Every visitor - young and old, able or unable, willing or not - takes a seat at the board, and woe betide anyone who expects to be shown magnanimity just because they're a guest, or an in-law or an invalid.
My difficulty is that I play most of these games only once a year, so have to relearn the rules annually, and thus I approach every game as a virtual novice. So this year, by way of practice for the family board-gaming duels that are to come, I joined my colleagues Róisín Ingle and Frank McNally for a "friendly" game of Monopoly - as though there's any such thing.
Never underestimate the power of a board game to effect a short-term personality change. McNally - stony-faced stoic from Monaghan, wry columnist and shrewd observer of the goings-on in Dáil Éireann, the cute hoor's cute hoor - turned into a complete dunce. And within minutes, Ingle was transformed from peace-and-love yoga bunny into a raging, rapacious Rupert Murdoch.
It had begun innocently enough. There was laughter over Ingle's new "Here and Now" edition of the game, with its amusing Community Chest cards and modernised pieces (the dog, the boot and the iron are now the skateboard, the Rollerblade and the mobile phone). There was a bit of polite discussion over the rules, and as the game kicked off McNally and I had a few strategic dilemmas. Should I buy Raheny? Not sure. Oh look, Kimmage is gone from this edition. Let's just laugh about that instead. Ingle, meanwhile, bought everything in her path.
Although the game took three hours to play, it seemed that in no time, she was in control, with a diverse property portfolio that included the major public utilities, Dublin Bus and Dundrum Shopping Centre (which the blood-sucking rackrenter took from me when I was low on cash) and an enviable wad of notes. She had achieved total dominance, an unshakeable grip, a monopo ... oh yeah that's the whole point of the game. The realisation came too late, as usual. She saw McNally off first, then demolished my empire, too.
There are a few desperate measures that can pull you out of such a pickle. One is to force abandonment of the game, by getting drunk, behaving childishly, cheating shamelessly or falling asleep. Another is to change the subject so radically that the game pales into insignificance - or fake choking.
The third - and my personal favourite - is to insist on playing the best of three, thereby snatching opportunity from the jaws of defeat. So any time you pair want to complete the contest, I'm ready. Conor Goodman
THE SKATEBOARD
I imagine Christmas without board games would be a bit like Eddie Hobbs without an axe to grind - pleasant enough but, you know, dull. My shelves are heaving with three different editions of Monopoly: one regular, one Celtic Tiger edition and one much-prized vintage version, which I was presented with after yet another failed attempt to clinch the title of Irish Monopoly champion.
These Monopoly versions, along with Cluedo, Balderdash, Articulate, Moods, Scrabble and Blockbusters will all be dusted down at some point over the next few days. Dice will be thrown in anger. Indignant cries of I did not cheat will be heard. Pieces will go missing forever and you'll swear you'll never play with so-and-so again.
My track record with Monopoly - I may have come last in both of the Irish championships I entered, but at least I was there - left me feeling quietly confident when I sat down with Messrs McNally and Goodman for the inaugural game of the season. My confidence was well placed. By the end of the game I was stinking rich and they were in the poorhouse. Despite my lifelong dedication to Monopoly, I think it might have been the first victory in eight years. This rare victory gave me a warm glow, I don't mind telling you.
Analysing the game later with my coach, we decided it was my early aggression and tenacity that swung the game for me. That and the fact that early on I bought the whole of Dublin 6 and managed to build three state-of-the-art hotels on these lucrative sites. The obvious inexperience of my competitors worked in my favour, too. I traversed the board on my skateboard, bidding ruthlessly for properties, while they foundered in the face of my go-getting attitude.
The turning point came when I managed to wrangle the Luas from McNally who, according to one Chance card, had crashed his car into it earlier. Of such small victories are champions made.
Anyway, I'm hoping I can continue this winning streak into the new year. I just got a copy of the new DVD version of Cluedo and, while normally I'm no Sherlock Holmes, I think the fact that this version is on television might give me the edge. I am genius at Balderdash, which is basically a bluffing game, and while I am not as good at Scrabble as I should be - "and you a journalist," as everyone I ever play likes to remind me - I know a few decent four-letter words. So clear all table surfaces and crack open the games. Just make sure you put a muzzle on anyone who claims it's just about the "taking part". Róisín Ingle
