Rolling Dice, Building Worlds: The Essence of Play

A while ago, back in 2006, I was on my honeymoon in London. It was a particularly chilly December if I recall correctly but that didn’t seem to bother either my newly wed wife or myself. We were staying at a particularly lovely hotel located on the same road as the British Museum, not that far off from Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street. 

Now I have always been a history enthusiast for as long as I can remember and therefore a visit to the British Museum, barely a stone’s throw away from where we were staying was a foregone conclusion. I can still remember the initial sense of grandeur the very entrance to the museum left on me. This was a remnant of the British empire, grand neoclassical architecture, majestic and substantial. Yet in spite of all that architectural beauty, approaching the staircase that led to the main entrance also felt strangely underwhelming, low key as though nothing much really mattered any more.

We entered the main foyer and meandered towards one of the galleries within the museum. I vividly remember ascending the stairs to a larger hall dedicated to ancient pharaonic Egypt, which truly astonished me! The exhibits were captivating, resonating with the echoes of millennia that spoke to the immense power of Egypt during the Pharaohs' reign. Numerous

life-sized statues of the Goddess Sekhmet gazed down upon us from various corners of the expansive halls, while a colossal scarab statue commanded our attention as we passed by. However, it was the enormous bust and effigy of Ramses II that left me utterly speechless as I contemplated the might of a man who was once regarded as a living deity by his people. On that same floor, encased in glass, the priceless Rosetta Stone, in all its mysterious splendor, beckoned to me, and I must have spent a good ten minutes memorizing each wedge mark and glyph that helped unlock the secrets of Egyptian hieroglyphics.

It wasn't solely the Egyptian empire that was on display, there were also relics from ancient Babylon that served as a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of human existence. A thought struck me then about the countless individuals who must have lived, loved, raised families, worked, argued, cried, laughed, and ultimately passed away, all within a world shaped by these same empires.

As I did back then in 2006, I find myself pondering what forms of entertainment those ancient peoples sought, what sports they might have engaged in, and what games they played. It is well-documented that board games have frequently been uncovered among the ruins of ancient civilisations. This suggests that board games are not merely a modern curiosity but rather a pastime that has been cherished by people throughout history. Whether one was an ancient Babylonian, Persian, Greek, Egyptian, or Roman, board games were an integral part of culture that consistently found ways to flourish in various forms.

For both board gaming enthusiasts and historians, the primary challenge lies in uncovering the rules that governed those ancient games. While some of the games themselves, crafted from materials such as wood, stone, glass, bone, metal, or clay, have endured through the ages, the rules are often reliant on oral traditions or on written records for their survival. Even in ancient Egypt, where writing flourished, references to gaming rules are scant if not non-existent.

Several factors could have contributed to this lacuna in historical records when one considers gaming rules. Firstly, papyrus and inks were regarded as valuable resources that were not squandered. Secondly, although papyrus is notably more durable than modern paper, it is still relatively perishable under adverse conditions. Unless the ancient peoples inscribed their rules on more resilient materials like stone or clay—and unless those records survived the ravages of time—retrieving those rules would be exceedingly unlikely. Then there is also the fact that game rules tend to change over long spans of time. These changes could be gradual or could be supplanted by a totally revamped set. This and the fact that popular games tend to travel via oral tradition following trade and migration routes could have contributed to a dearth in written records over time. 

For example, although several copies of a board game identified as Senet have been recovered and studied for nearly a century, we still do not know precisely what the pieces were intended to represent or what the symbols etched on the Senet boards signified during play. It is speculated that the game likely held some form of spiritual significance for its players, possibly relating to the afterlife or the Gods. However, this interpretation may have been applied retrospectively, rather than being the original meaning of the game.

To better grasp this concept, it’s important to understand that in ancient times expressions of randomness were often interpreted as a connection to the supernatural. In the throw of the dice or astragali (knuckle bones), those ancient players believed they were witnessing the will of their Gods influencing the outcome, serving as a means of communication between the divine and humanity.

Let me put this into perspective, each of those ancient civilisations had deities associated with luck or good fortune. The Greeks revered Plutus, the son of Demeter, the Goddess of Harvests, whose blessing was believed to ensure a bountiful harvest for those who sought his favour. Similarly, the Romans worshipped Fortuna, the Goddess of Luck and chance, calling upon her whenever luck played a role in their lives, such as when rolling dice during games.

The ancient Egyptians also had a deity of Fate known as Shai or Shait. This god (or goddess) was connected to what was decreed by the divine, influencing the lifespan of individuals and present at the judgement of souls in the afterlife. Additionally, there was a cobra goddess named Renenutet, believed to determine prosperity, and the Goddess Isis, associated with magic, who was invoked for good fortune and thought to have the power to alter human fate. So, it is not inconceivable, nor should it come as a surprise that ancient civilisation tended to link the divine with the intrinsic randomness of games and to read omens in the outcomes of a dice roll. 

As a side note, even modern man is not immune to the superstitions surrounding games that involve an element of luck. Habitual gamblers often blow on dice before rolling them or call out the numbers they wish to see, despite the fact that, unless cheating or loaded dice are involved, these actions have no bearing on the final outcome. In statistics and probability, we assert that dice or any other randomising device has no memory of previous results. This means that the odds of any particular outcome remain constant, regardless of what has occurred before.

Humans have an extraordinary ability for pattern recognition, which has been essential for our survival. We instinctively seek out patterns to predict outcomes. For early humans, this skill was vital. For instance, recognising fresh tracks of a predator signalled potential danger and prompted caution. Similarly, noticing specific cloud formations or a drop in temperature before rain allowed us to anticipate changes in the weather. Through these observations, we learned that identifying patterns in our environment could enhance our preparedness and, ultimately, our chances of survival.

While pattern recognition is a valuable survival skill, it can also have its downsides. Under stress, this ability can become overly active, causing individuals to perceive connections where none exist. This phenomenon is known as apophenia, which refers to the tendency to find meaningful relationships between unrelated events.

Modern Board Game adaptation of th Royal Game

A common example of this is observed in gamblers who notice an unusual sequence of outcomes in games of chance. They may erroneously conclude that certain results are "due" because they have not occurred recently. Such reasoning is flawed since random outcomes do not retain any knowledge of previous results and should be viewed as independent events. 

Back to ancient board games, there is one game whose rule set was found buried among hundreds of clay tablets written in what is known as cuneiform script by a philologist and Assyriologist working at the British museum, a certain Irving Finkel. The game in question goes by the modern name of “The Royal Game of Ur” but the truth is that while it was at the peak of its popularity, the game was played all over the region not just the ancient city of Ur.  

This board game links us back to the Rosetta Stone I mentioned earlier, nestled within a glass exhibition cabinet in the British museum. Just as the Rosetta helped a French researcher Jean-Francoise Champollion, to crack the code to Egyptian hieroglyphics, the clay tablet found by Irving Finkel helped him crack the silence around the boardgame other researchers had found within a tomb within what had been the city of Ur. Thanks to that fortuitous find, Finkel could resurrect one of the ancient world's oldest board games and make it available to modern enthusiasts such as myself.

This leads me to my discovery at the souvenir shop within the British Museum, a replica of the Royal Game of Ur, which caught my attention as I passed by. The game, while straightforward, is captivating. It resembles a race with elements reminiscent of both Parcheesi and, to some extent, Backgammon. When looked at from the top, the board is shaped like an asymmetrical dumbbell, featuring an area composed of twelve squares arranged in a 4 x 3 layout, connected by a 2 x 1 bridge to another section containing six squares in a 2 x 3 configuration. Notably, the game includes four tetrahedral dice that, when rolled in unison, yield scores ranging from 1 to 5.

An original copy of the Royal Game of Ur at the British Museum, London

I find it interesting that this game has all the trapping of a solid, tactical racing game. There are safe squares where your pieces cannot be knocked off the board. At other points of the board however, your opponent may and (in a way) should knock you off. Then there’s a home area from where you are then expected to bear-off your pieces. The first player to bear-off all their pieces wins.

Having played it a few times, you tend to realise that there are segments of the board where the risk of being knocked-off increases substantially. Likewise once the safety of the bearing-off areas is reached there isn’t much else your opponent could do to stop you. The safe squares then are what allow you to gain a slight edge over your opponent. You could decide to simply hold a piece on a safe square with the purpose to use it to knock an opponent’s piece off should the opportunity arise. As a minimum it grants you some respite in the sense that a piece landing there is safe until moved. 

Besides the Royal Game of Ur, which still makes part of my board game collection, there were other intriguing games on offer back in 2006 but which, at the time, did not resonate with me as much as The Royal game of Ur did. There were historically accurate reproductions of Hnefatafl or “viking chess” as well as replicas of The Lewis Chessmen originally discovered in early 1831, in a sandbank at Uig Bay on the west coast of the Isle of Lewis, in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland.

Hnefatafl pieces on a board

These three board gaming sets which were on offer at the souvenir shop, one can see an interesting transition that took place between what was essentially a roll and move game and the latter abstract strategy games that rely exclusively on logic, and a finite ruleset. One (The Royal game of Ur) resting heavily on the luck of the draw whereas the other two, clear examples of games of complete information. Not surprisingly however, the Royal Game of Ur exemplifies the simple roots of board gaming as a form of physical tally to sequences of dice rolls. All this points us to the progenitors, games which relied exclusively on dice rolls. 

As noted earlier, the casting of lots or rolling of dice most probably had a dual significance to those performing the act. There was the ludic intent, the game itself, as players rolled dice to hit on specific scores or outcomes, as well as a more esoteric intent, a link to the supernatural and the divine. Whether these two aspects coexisted or whether the latter was superimposed onto the former, is anyone’s guess. Though we do have precedents for comparison, such as trick-taking Tarot games and the subsequent utilisation of the same Tarot deck in cartomancy. Many now understand the latter as having been developed at a much later date than the actual games linked to the Tarot deck.

Many have tried to rationalise why such games of chance have both caught on and been developed independently in parallel by diverse civilisations and across time. Perhaps it all boils down to our inability to grasp the significance of randomness and in the process this has resulted in humanity’s constant pursuit of an illusion of control on what in essence is uncontrollable.

Example of Roman dice

Yet, these ancient peoples were not stupid. They understood that control over outcomes could only come from cheating as can be attested by the many loaded dice found from diverse archeological sites. For this reason, almost in an attempt to appease the Gods of chance, they often resorted to simple contraptions that removed the agency over dice rolls from the hands of the gamblers and back into the hands of Plutus, Fortuna or Isis. 

The Vettweiss-Froitzheim Dice Tower, a Roman artifact discovered in Germany in 1985, is a notable example of what was referred to as a "Turricula" in Latin. This particular artifact dates back to the 4th century AD and is believed to have been given as a gift. Finding a complete dice tower is quite rare,the Vettweiss-Froitzheim Turricula survived largely due to its construction from durable metals rather than wood or other materials that would decay over time. This artifact reflects the intention of ancient players to ensure fairness in their dice games.

As with all contraptions of its kind the Vettweiss-Froitzheim dice tower was designed to facilitate a reliable roll of the dice, featuring an upright, hollow cuboid shape made from copper alloy. It also includes three internal levels that create random movement for the dice as they descend through the tower, ultimately exiting via a small staircase at the base. 

Vettweiss-Froitzheim Dice Tower

As I continue to explore the historical roots and extensive prevalence of board games throughout the ages, I come to appreciate how fundamentally human this pastime is. This is an activity that is readily comprehensible and embraced by a multitude of cultures and societies. Moreover, the nature of play often follows similar trajectories, resulting in board games that exhibit a remarkable number of shared features. Interestingly, this occurs despite the fact that the cultures that created these games may not have engaged in trade or direct interaction with one another.

What this suggests is that this particular activity is one that humans find both enjoyable and engaging. It appeals to our innate creativity, allowing us to construct worlds from a few simple rules. Even when examining the more intricate board games, you will often find that they ultimately revolve around the basic action of rolling dice. This straightforward act serves as the foundation from which most modern board games have evolved. What began with the simple rolling of bones, or astragali, has transformed into countless expressions of our humanity.

Through the act of playing games, we create a unique space where a defined set of rules temporarily suspends reality, establishing a framework for action in which players can express their agency by rolling dice, drawing cards, or moving game pieces. In this setting, everyday responsibilities are put on hold, and for the limited duration of a game, participants can do whatever is necessary to secure victory. In many ways, this simplicity is what makes the pastime so charming.