The Game of Life

I have played countless computer and board games to date, but I have never really set down to play this old classic called “The Game of Life” (aka GoL). It’s an interesting though dated game which does show its age when you look up closely. Still, it does warrant some attention, not so much as because it attempts to simulate the progression of life, but because it dares to do so in a naïve way.

The notions of life, fate and our individual legacies have beleaguered humankind since time immemorial. We struggle to understand our purpose in life, to give meaning to our actions and goals. Finding this purpose, this meaning, defines our very existence, failing to do so makes us feel lost and listless. So, when a game such as the GoL posits simulating the achievement of these goals, allowing us to investigate these notions, one should stop and if anything, ponder what is being attempted.

GoL will not offer you the meaning of life on a proverbial platter, it will not grant the player wisdom or some other lofty revelation. It does, however, force the player to stop and consider the stages of life and how these impact our actions as we grow, age and ultimately hand down our legacy to those who will go through the process after us. Ultimately what Gol does is paint life mechanistically as a series of events that somehow intertwine into a crescendo of contingent events forming an arabesque as complex and as intricate as any.  Simple processes are therefore seen to offer complexity only when in sufficient quantity as to force the viewer to forget the individual elements but attempt instead an overall appraisal.

Let me explain that in another way. It is like listening to a hundred-strong orchestra. Each musician can be seen as representing an event, a complete process embodying both experience and mastery over one instrument. Had an onlooker focused on that one instrument alone, he or she would only see one, simple process in action, beautiful, but elementary in nature. However, the situation changes when the onlooker now expands his or her consciousness to embrace the whole orchestra, playing as one. What the onlooker experiences will transcend the elements that the orchestra is made up of. It becomes an overpowering experience, majestic, spectacular, memorable even. This is what we all hope to achieve in our lifetimes, something that ends up being, at the very least, memorable.

I think that it was Socrates who said that the contemplated life is the life worth living. I think what he might have meant was a life that is lived intensely, reviewed, and savored in all its parts. Yet as I can attest from all my exposure to diverse philosophies, this meaningfulness or value cannot be summed up from just one point of view.

Going back to GoL, what the game fails to capture is that life is only given the meaning we consciously decide to give it. That personal meaning, in many ways, will often fail to conform totally to norms or custom, it will however blend in, like an instrument in an orchestra. We only have control over the instrument we play but by playing, by focusing intent on playing the instrument given to us, we will inevitably affect the performance. This affectation is our legacy, the beating of a butterfly's wing stirring up a hurricane halfway around the world.

At 50, life takes on a distinctive nuance. I acknowledge that I now have a total of years ahead of me that will more likely be smaller than the total of years behind me. This awareness is enough to create a sense of alertness, a sense of urgency that never existed before. You ponder the ultimate mortality that guides us, making each passing day much more precious and unique. More importantly, you start to appreciate just how petty some of our worries in life are. You start to realistically assess the need or even the utility of burdening our minds with the worries of others, of embracing unwarranted struggle which would otherwise dissipate into nothing the moment we put them down. 

Yet despite these realizations, I am no guru, nor do I feel enlightened in any way. What these realizations have offered me is the clear strength to refuse to carry what is inconvenient for others. Wherever possible I will walk away from such things, I will do mine instead, I will live a life that will not be unnecessarily burdened with the drudgery others refuse to carry. This does not mean I will not be compassionate, just that I will not add the avoidable pain of others to my own, making my lot worse. I will however acknowledge the pain of others and, wherever possible, offer support commensurate to my means and capabilities.

It is useless to offer to carry the burdens of others, if we cannot even carry our own loads. We need to understand our limitations and offer help in line with those limitations. When we do so, we can really be of service and be there whenever that service is truly needed. Whether this is the secret to both living a good life and creating a memorable legacy is something I still need to assess and maybe someday I will be able to offer my final say on the matter. For now, the jury is still out. 

In its own way, through a mix of rules and turn taking, GoL tries to recreate this dynamic in the game itself. Choices are offered weightings and events a sense of variance, of causality that is not always linear. Obviously, this being a game, the flow cannot truly be random. If the game were to embrace the full complexity of the real deal, we would end up with a game that would last several hours if not days. 

What is particularly interesting about GoL is that there are no dice, just a spinner with ten possible outcomes. Interestingly the original designers opted for a spinner and not dice, a sort of Wheel of Fortune, something that is both ancient and whimsical at the same time. I cannot but draw a parallel between the spinner we find in this game and the 10th Major Arcana of the classic Tarot deck, which also refers to a "Wheel of fortune”. Indeed, the similarities between the Tarot deck and GoL do not stop there. Both GoL and the classic Tarot deck try to model the progression of life from cradle to grave.  Both hint at the unforeseen, the importance of knowledge and the ephemeral nature of life itself. All this is condensed in GoL through the cadence and turns of the spinner, the movements around the board, the decisions taken throughout the game.

 Ultimately the greatest lesson learned is that life can only be managed (to a degree) but never truly controlled. The greatest illusion would be to believe that we have control over the outcomes. As in GoL we cannot force the outcomes we aspire to obtain, we can only try to stack the odds as best we can through diligent preparation and planning, then leave the rest to variance...or in common parlance...to chance.

Interestingly the trigger which led to this article was not life but death. Death has this sobering effect, it uncompromisingly exposes our frailty, shedding a glaring and unforgiving light upon our petty squabbling and relentless worrying. What makes it the ultimate equalizer is that nothing will sway its action or judgement. Whether you be king, president, CEO or a janitor working some feckless job, all will answer the summons once it is made. In this context the ending of our lives is very much akin to the final turn in a board game. 

The endgame is a moment of reckoning, all the plays have been made, all the dice rolls have given their verdict, all the cards have been turned. Especially when you play a Eurogame, you then start to ponder and speculate whether you have enough points to win, whether you will make the cut. Yet now it is no longer truly in your hands, no more decisions can be made. Then the points are scored, slowly they pile up until there is none left. You win, you lose, euphoria, regret, curtains fall...the Game of Life ends. 

In memory of Rita Fabri – Beloved Daughter, Mother, Grandma and Aunt (12.03.1967 - 10.11.2022)