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Sports Day

This is a short story that was written in three small installments

It was a blazing summer afternoon. The dusty maidaan seemed rippling under the intense summer sun. Yet, at the northern end there was a wide white stall decorated with multi-coloured festoons and balloons. Hanging from the front of the roof was a cloth banner that read 'Annual Sports Day, Vilvattam Senior Secondary School'.

Uniformed children were sitting in big groups outside the oval perimeter drawn with chalk powder. When they were not cheering for their favourites, they talked, sang songs and picked fights over sharing the precious glucose powder given by the teachers. They were having a hell of a good time. The static on the loudspeaker indicated that the microphone was turned on. Nobody paid attention to the announcer, who was in fact Malathi teacher seated behind a covered metal table inside the stall. Her naturally loud voice ensured that she was the announcer by choice, every year.

"... and ask Mary teacher to come soon", a broken piece of an earlier conversation inadvertently screamed through the loudspeakers. "Sorry. Next, we have the boys' 100 meters dash". Suddenly, silence prevailed among the noisy crowd. This was one event that everyone had been waiting for. "The participants are...". She called out the first name - Ajith, chest number 431 from the Blue team. He was short but a good runner. In fact, he was the youngest compared to others by atleast 8 months, thanks to his early admission.

Next, she called out for Prithvi, chest number 312 from the Red team. However, nobody heard his chest number because by the time his name was uttered, the crowd went crazy. The girls started cheering 'Prithvi, Prithvi, Prithvi...' from the southern end of the ground waving bright red flags. Prithvi spent the early part of his childhood in Mumbai. He looked more well-built and fairer than others in his class. It seemed that even other teams cheered for him. He was clearly the crowd's favourite for this event.

Sports Day

Then, she hesitantly pronounced Pra-dhyu-man, chest number 621 from the Green team. A few random cheers could be heard from the Green camp. Pradhyuman looked a bit too on the heavier side for an athlete. He was a late discovery when Jijo Sir found him throwing stones at the school's mango trees and chased him. He could run like the wind. He was surprised when they called out his name because he was busy stuffing a handful of glucose powder into his mouth. But he quickly swallowed and waved, at particularly no one, with a big smile.

Finally, she called out for Ashwin, chest number 691 from Yellow team. Instead of cheering, the announcement was received with a brief silence and then hushed conversations. 'That lean Ashwin? A strong wind blows and he will fly away', Jijo sir joked in a hushed voice to his colleague. He was indeed a surprising choice. Yellow team had no good runners this time. Sharath was supposed to represent them but his parents had called in to say that he was down with viral fever.

Ashwin was a terribly lean kid. He used to barely finish his lunch and run outside to play cricket before anyone came to claim the crude bat made from the thick end of a coconut tree branch. In fact, no one ever saw him eat anything. In class, he fiddled with pencils and fidgeted at his seat till the bell rang. He was not quite good with studies and his marks barely crossed single digits. He wasn't particularly good at anything and he didn't have many friends either.

Jijo sir, wearing a white bowler hat and an even-whiter pair of sports shoes, raised the whistle to his lips. On that cue, Prithvi struck a perfect sprinter's pose while others stood looking quite unsure. The whistle blew and everyone was off the mark.

* * *

It was five in the evening and Malathi teacher came back to her seat after the tea break. She announced the concluding program for the day - the award ceremony. The winners' podium was setup in front of the stall. The school principal stood a little ahead and a teacher holding a tray of medals and small trophies, stood next to him. "The winner of the boys' 100 meters dash is", she paused for effect, "Ashwin!" In his characteristic restlessness, Ashwin climbed up the platform that had a bit '1' painted in front and fidgeted nervously. The principal, with his benevolent smile, garlanded him with a gold medal.

Some time later Malathi continued, "The winner of boys' long jump is... Ashwin!". Ashwin quickly pocketed his earlier medal and ran towards the podium. Soon his pocket wouldn't be enough. Triple jump, High jump, Relay race and even Javelin throw gold medals would find its way into his pockets. Ashwin turned out to be the winner of the Best Athelete of the year trophy. He single-handedly elevated the Yellow team to overall champions.

* * *

The next day at school, Jijo sir lined up the students of class 6B for the Physical Education period after the assembly. 'Where is Ashwin?', he asked. 'Oh, he must be in the hospital now', someone joked from behind. The Sir replied with a knowing smile, 'Oh no, he is not'.


Encounters

The school's football ground was flanked from the north by a narrow strip of banana plantations. Jijo sir picked up the football and tossed it to Prithvi. Soon the class formed two teams and started an ad-hoc match. Jijo sir walked over the short rickety wooden bridge over the canal separating the ground and the plantation.

He strolled noiselessly into the thicket of banana trees. Further ahead was a bright sunlit open patch where he found Ashwin holding the cricket bat practicing imaginary shots.

"Noticed that the bat was missing. Guessed it would be you"

Sir's voice startled Ashwin. He was almost prepared to run. But one look at the Sir and he realised that he was not in trouble. However, he shook his head as if he would be reprimanded soon.

"Why didn't you come to class? You are almost a hero now"

"I didn't feel like coming. I don't think I am that type"

"What type?"

Ashwin looked into Sir's eyes as if searching for the right words.

"You know... I am not strong like Prithvi or bright like Vikas. Yesterday I got lucky. But I don't think I will ever be a 'Hero'"

"Heroes are not extraordinary people, Ashwin. They are people like you and me who get into situations where something extraordinary is expected. They are the ones who put their best foot forward at the right time. Just like you did. Yesterday."

"Yes, then I had nothing to lose. But now it's different. It is like a weird feeling."

"You better get used to that feeling now. It is called getting popular", Sir added with a sly smile.

Ashwin gave a rare and beautiful smile in return, "Maybe you are right. Besides, it was not my best yesterday", he joked.

The conversation became more friendly now. Ashwin seemed comfortable in opening up in the company of Jijo sir. He felt like he could trust him.

"So what does you father do?", Sir asked.

"Oh, he works in a rubber plantation at Plakunnu. I generally help him in the morning. By 8'o clock we would finish tapping. Then, Amma would call us for congee. She would dress me up for school and sometimes walk with me till the market. I walk from there."

Jijo sir visualised the scene in his mind as he listened intently. A ten year old running swiftly through the undulating terrain of Plakunnu. Speeding down the steep slopes and hopping over the tiny streams. Every morning, every single day of his life. Relentless practise. The making of a true athlete.

The entire 45 minute period they spent talking in that plantation. Then, they walked back to class together.

* * *

It looked like seven in the evening when it was only four. Skies were ominously overcast when Ashwin left school. Shortly it began drizzling and by the time he reached the market on the way home, it was pouring heavily.

He didn't have an umbrella, so he waited inside Chandrettan tea shop. Whenever the downpour mellowed down slightly he was tempted to dash homeward. Chandrettan advised him against that idea since it was too far and the road was dark anyways.

About an hour later, the rain reduced to a drizzle and Chandrettan gave Ashwin a heavy steel torch. He showed him how to use it (strobing it on and off sparingly). He told him stay on the roads and avoid shortcuts. Armed with the torch, Ashwin started out in the quiet drizzle.

After about a kilometre from the market, he felt like he was being followed. He gets this feeling sometimes and it generally turns out to a squirrel or a cat. But this time, it sounded like footsteps.

He began to walk faster. He could hear footsteps sloshing faster through the mud. He started to run. Then he noticed, further ahead of the road, two figures looking at him. He slowed down and looked at them more carefully. It was Prithvi and Pradhyuman in school uniform.

Ashwin instinctively sensed danger. He turned and ran back.

"Da!...Stop!". That was Prithvi's voice.

It was like sports day all over again. Ashwin's feet were a blur. He was speeding like a rocket through the drizzle. Prithvi and Pradhyman tried to catch up in vain.

However, Ashwin noticed someone else standing at the other end of the road. He almost slipped as he came to a sudden stop. It was little Ajith.

"Da... please don't run. We want to say something", he pleaded.

Behind them, Prithvi and Pradhyuman slowed down to a halt. They both looked flabbergasted.

"What's... what's wrong with... you man?", Pradhyuman panted as he gasped for air.

"I thought...", Ashwin hesitated, "you guys were trying to get back to me for the sports day"

Prithvi stepped forward and put his hand on Ashwin's shoulder, "Forget about that. You were better than us. You won. What's wrong with that?"

"Then why were you following me?"

"Sit down. Let's talk"

Prithvi sat atop one of the milestones next to the road. The others gathered around him. The rain had stopped.

"Ashwin, what we are going to tell you next is a secret. You must promise not to tell anyone else."

"Ok", shrugged Ashwin.

"It's a flashback", quipped Pradhyman.

"Yes, it is a flashback", Prithvi continued gravely, " I don't know if you know this. But the land where our school is and everything surrounding it was once owned by a Menon"

"Parameshwaran Menon, who lives behind our school?", asked Ashwin

"No. That is his son. It belonged to Madhavan Menon. He is no more. Unlike his son, he was really nice man. He used to love children. Long time ago, he offered the land for our school and playground."

"However, during his last days he was very ill and was treated by his son quite badly. Though, he had prepared his Will gifting the school property to the school trust, his son did not want to let go of that land. So he prepared another Will and forced his father to sign that"

"People say that he killed him soon after", Pradhyman added in a hushed voice. Ajith shuddered when he heard that.

"Ashwin", Prithvi lowered his voice, "we need you to get that new Will".

"What? Me?"

"Yes"

"Why Me?"

"Because you are the fastest among us. We have tried before and failed. Do you think Pradhyuman was caught near Menon's property because he was trying to steal mangoes?"

"Well, not just the mangoes", Pradhyuman quickly corrected.

Ashwin fell silent. He remembered what Jijo sir said in the morning. Extraordinary situations. Stepping up. Being a hero.

"How do I know that you guys are not taking me for a ride?"

"We will be with you at every step"

"And what do I get?"

"You will join our club - the Daredevils"

Ashwin gave an amused look.

"We call this operation - Blue Star", added Pradhyman enthusiastically. He pulled his sleeve and held up his arm for Ashwin to see. It had a star drawn with a blue ballpoint pen. "Blue-Star, get it?", he chortled.

Ashwin gave a genial smile. They knew it was almost a silent consent. He loved the idea. He always wanted to be part of a gang. A band of brothers, of some sorts.

Prithvi stretched out his hand towards Ashwin, palm facing upwards. Ashwin carefully placed his hand on it. Soon others joined.

And in that cold and damp night, they hatched a plan


D-day

Inside the classroom, someone passed a bundle wrapped in a handkerchief to Ashwin. After he made sure that no one is watching he eagerly opened it. It contained an old Nokia cellphone, a small ball of twine, Odomos mosquito cream and a black ring-shaped toroidal magnet.

While the Science teacher's voice droned on, Ashwin's eyes glazed over and yesterday's conversations played back in front of his eyes.

"Ok, this is the final plan", said Prithvi. "Every Tuesday, Menon goes to Coimbatore to collect the weekly dues from his shops. He leaves early in the morning and comes back by around 2 pm. He has a Nepali watchman who guards near the gate. He takes a lunch break around 11:30 for about thirty minutes. That is the only time window we have."

"How do you know all this?", Ashwin remembers asking.

"We have our sources", Prithvi answered enigmatically, "Menon also has a huge British Bulldog unchained at that time. It's bigger than any of us. We once tried drugging it by mixing sleeping powder with rice. But it gobbled it all and walked away nonchalantly. So the only option is to distract it. That will be my job. I will try to make noises from the west-end across the canal. Since the dog doesn't swim, I can hold it's attention for sometime."

"Ajith was able to enter Menon's property through a small fox hole in the evening. He found a wooden ladder near a mango tree and kept it against the tall brick wall towards south. Tomorrow, during the P.E. period, Ashwin and Pradhyuman will have to climb the mango tree on the school side. With the ladder, you will be able to cross the wall without touching the glass shards on it."

"Pradhyuman will stand near the outhouse behind the bungalow and Ashwin will have to climb to the balcony from the outside. If Pradhyuman hears the guard approaching he will give Ashwin a missed call. As soon as Ashwin finds the Will, he will give a missed call to Pradhyuman. It will give him a headstart to run back."

"Ashwin!", shouted the Science teacher. "Yes, sir", he answered. "Which world are you in? Pay attention!".

It was 10:45 and time for Jijo sir's class. The football match was going on with nearly the entire class in the field. Prithvi had warned that if everyone disappeared at the same time it would raise suspicion. So they left, in turns.

Finally it was Ashwin's turn and when nobody was watching, he slipped into the banana plantations. He took out the Odomos cream and quickly applied it all over himself. It was Ajith's idea to avoid leaving any smell trails for search dogs later on. He pocketed the contents of the handkerchief and used to it to mask his nose and mouth.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the football fell just a couple of feet ahead of him. It seemed to roll towards where he was hiding. His blood froze. In a flash, Jijo sir appeared and kicked the ball back into the playground. He didn't seem to have noticed him.

He lifted the whistle and signalled everyone to move further on. That was when Ashwin noticed something strange when Sir's sleeve drew downwards. It was the unmistakable mark of a blue star. Sir was in it all along! Without even sharing a glance, Sir moved on in a practised jog.

Ashwin felt more relieved now. He met Pradhyuman near the wall. As they quietly climbed down the ladder, they could hear the woofs of the Bulldog from afar. They exchanged a knowing smile. They waited till the guard stepped into the outhouse.

Ashwin found the climb to second floor easier than he had expected, thanks to the numerous parapets. He entered through the balcony door and found a spacious bedroom. After a bit of searching around, he found the office. It had a Godrej safe almost the size of a small fridge.

As he was told, he found a bundle of keys hung on a nail. He took out the twine with the magnet tied to one end. He swung up the magnet a couple of times till he was able to pull out the keys. He picked the key marked 'Godrej' and inserted into the safe's keyhole. It opened with a satisfying click. This is too easy, Ashwin thought.

Suddenly he heard a noise outside. He rushed to the window. Menon was back! He briskly opened the front gate and entered. Ashwin was almost paralysed by fear. He still did not have the document. He and Pradhyuman would almost certainly get caught and even arrested.

Ashwin made up his mind. He pulled out his mobile and gave a missed call. It seemed like the right thing to do. Time to step up.

* * *

Menon was agitated. It was a hartaal in Coimbatore and nothing went as planned. In fact, the trip was almost wasted. Then, he heard someone running in his backyard. He rushed to find out what was happening. By the time he reached, he noticed a stout boy with a covered face running away in a distance.

The Nepali guard wearing a lungi and a rifle in one hand, came running out of the outhouse. He looked confused and at the same time he was surprised to find Menon in the backyard.

Just then he heard another person running away. This time it seemed slightly closer but the pace was definitely faster. With a look of disgust, Menon snatched the rifle from the guard and started chasing the person.

He realised that the thief was planning to escape into the banana plantations. It would be impossible to trace him once he entered those dense plants. He took aim and fired. The person stopped running. Menon quickly positioned himself at the wide clearing before the plantations. Now, there was no way anyone can escape without getting shot at.

* * *

Ashwin's back was pressed against an old mango tree. The Will was tightly clutched in his hands. He could hear Menon from a distance. "Da... you are dead, you know that?". He remembered Menon's bloodshot eyes he saw a few minutes back. It was the eyes of a murderer. He instinctively knew that he meant every word he said.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He remembered his father recounting a swine hunting trip to him. He was accompanying a foreigner who knew how to use the rifle. They almost cornered a massive swine. But it simply ran towards them. The foreigner fired and missed. The closer the swine, he had explained sagely, the harder it is to shoot.

"So you are not going to come out?", he could hear Menon's voice. He was about twenty feet away now. Looking over the rifle perched on his shoulders, Menon began to take measured steps towards the tree where Ashwin was hiding.

Ashwin's eyes were still tightly shut. As the sound of footsteps drew closer, he kept repeating in his mind - "The closer the swine... the closer the swine... the closer the swine"

Menon was now just six feet away from his target. He gripped the handle of the trigger tighter. Like a cat, he noiselessly took another step. Suddenly to his left, something rolled down from behind the tree. As he rapidly aimed the rifle, he realised that it was just a boulder. A decoy. The boy had already made a blinding dash to his right.

Ashwin ran like the wind. He felt the cool breeze on his face as he was moving farther and farther from his intended exit. Would the ladder be still there, he wondered. He surprised himself by smiling at that thought. His run seemed so surreal.

He could hear the indistinct barks of the bulldog, the yelling Nepali and the hoarse cries of Menon. It was all a blur now. He stopped and looked down. The peaceful gurgle of the water in the canal seemed inviting. He dived straight in.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

Lunch break had only twenty minutes left. The boys were busy driving the stumps on the ground and standing in their positions. Ajith was lucky and got the first chance to bat.

Just as the bowler was about to throw, he stopped. At the far end, Ashwin was slowly ambling towards the ground. He noticed that everyone was looking at him now.

"Do you want to bat?", asked Ajith loudly.

Moments later, Ashwin stood inside the crease holding the bat. As he surveyed the field, he noticed that almost everyone was looking at him admiringly. He understood that they knew. He couldn't help smiling.

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Atari and Gaming History

Imagine your 8 year old cousin, who is learning to use computers, asking you about the Save icon on Microsoft Word. The image of a floppy disk is almost universally used to denote 'saving a file'. But with floppy disks gone, would the coming generation understand the symbolism?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had the same problem with the joystick icon commonly used to denote Games. Typically it is drawn as a stick pointing up, protruding from a box. Most of the consoles that I was familiar with had much more elaborate game controllers or gamepads. However this simple black-coloured gaming device remained a mystery to me.

Until I read the book 'Racing the Beam: The Atari Video Computer System' that is. I started reading this book out of curiosity and due to a certain interest in gaming history. But soon realised that it is a must-read for anyone interested in Game design or even the roots of Gaming culture. It covers not just the historical context of the Atari VCS and its popular games but some of its nearly impossible technical constraints.

One of the most amazing thing about Atari games were that they could use only 128 bytes of RAM. Yes you read that right. It is not Megabytes or even Kilobytes, I mean Bytes. To give you a better idea, I have italicised the first 128 characters at the beginning of this blog post. Yes, it is that small.

Atari Flashback

To program an entire game with graphics, sounds and gameplay with several levels would seem impossible given such constrains. But remember that RAM refers to the working memory or the read-write area. Atari would store most of the game content in removable cartridges containing about 4 kB of ROM or Read Only Memory. Now, 4 kB is not much either. Today, even the smallest images, say an icon, would be bigger than that. Imagining packing an entire game in that space. Incredibly cool!

Constraints bring out some of the most creative solutions. There could be no better example of this than Atari games. Not only were Atari games enjoyed by millions of gamers, they also boast of many pioneering achievements. The 1979 game Adventure is considered to be the first action-adventure game. One of the great grandfathers of games like Warcraft, the game allowed the player to explore multiple rooms with the ability to pick up, carry or drop items, a first at that point in time. It was also the first game to have a widely known 'Easter Egg.'

Yar's Revenge, released in 1981, takes place in space and uses game code as game data. Taking place in space, the game screen is dominated by a striped randomly coloured neutral zone. Rather than use a random number generator, the game's creator brilliantly converted the game's own binary code into a psuedo-random pattern, saving precious ROM space. In other words, you are looking into the game's own code while playing the game. How many games have you played that can claim that?

Not all firsts mentioned in the book are technical innovations. It narrates how Atari employees broke off to start Activision, the first third party video game company. Of course, Atari's first game Pong was a cultural phenomenon. Atari is also considered as the longest living game console spanning a duration of 14 years and 2 months in US gaming history.

As a side note, if you have read Steve Job's autobiography then you must be aware that Steve Jobs was Atari's fortieth employee. He was a technician paid at $5/hour. They sent him to India to help him do 'spiritual research'. Later it was their $100 bounty for each chip removed from the design of Breakout that triggered Jobs to reach out to Steve Wozniak. Interestingly, they eventually offered Apple II to Atari and they were not interested. Imagine that, Atari could have actually bought Apple!

Today, one can still buy Atari Flashback, a successor of the original Atarai 2600. It contains two of the iconic joysticks bearing a close resemblance to the original joysticks. There are many recent accounts of parents rediscovering such legacy arcades. Small children don't seem to mind the simple graphics thanks to their active imagination. Adults also love the competitiveness of two-player games.

Sometimes to better understand the present, one needs to dive into the past. Knowing Atari's past was not only instructive but also inspiring.

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The Ritual

Father had spoken and left in a hurry. That was the final word on the matter. His callousness was more than a six year old could fathom. Why do they have to blindly follow this ancient practice of human mutilation? Why can't he be the first to stop this barbaric ritual? Most importantly, why are adults always right?

Tears almost welled up in his big eyes as it looked up for empathy in his mother's eyes. However, he found none as she had grown used to his protests. They say he had his mother's eyes. Her's seemed to tell him, 'Be calm. It will be over with quickly'. But he was far from calm. He could hear the drumbeats of his heart rising with a deafening tempo. He felt trapped.

She waited. He waited for her to leave. He knew the act of cutting off painlessly would not be easy. He was sure he would make cowardly expressions or even cry. He didn't want her to see that. He didn't want to say that, 'Chee... What's this? A Chekavar would never cry like that!'. Perhaps this is a rite of passage to become a Chekavar and join the long lineage of blood-lusty warrior menfolk. One of the hundred tests he might have to face in the future. Right now, this task seemed impossible to be true.

'Kichu, you heard what Acha said. We don't have all day'. He held the instrument tighter. The crude implement had two dull blades at the business end of it. Once he puts his tiny finger in between them, a flat lever needed to be pressed. It would hurt... definitely. He should have sharpened the blades to make it less so. But how would a six year old know how to do that?

Suddenly, a shrill whistle of the milk boiler needed her urgent attention. She turned to the kitchen. Kichu craned backward to confirm that she is gone. He fumbled with the instrument. Tried to grip its levers. It kept slipping from his sweaty palms. A sense of urgency possessed him now. He positioned his trembling finger towards the blades.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

The mother bolted out of the kitchen hearing his scream. Time froze to a glacial pace. Shocked to see Kichu lying unconcious on the floor, she knelt down and picked him up in her arms. His right hand was tightly closed. Terrified, she tried to open his hand. She was half-expected to see a nasty cut and some blood, hopefully not a lot. But there was none of that. Instead there was an angled nail-cutter and a thin crescent-shaped fingernail.

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This is a Game. There are rules

I have been recently reading a book on game design that primarily focuses on non-digital games. It is called Challenges for Game Designers. It distills the art of game design to using easily available materials like paper, dice or playing cards. They call it a non-digital approach.

We have all played such games at some point in time. Before video games, as kids, we used to play snakes and ladders or chess. In Kerala, we have several indoor games using easily available materials like pebbles, cowries (kavadi in Malayalam), circassian seeds (manjaadi in Malayalam) and irkili sticks (stiff mid-ribs of coconut leaves). The rules were simple - say, remove the smallest stick without disturbing others or align the seeds in a row. These 'eco-friendly' and 'low-cost' games used to provide hours of fun to children and adults.

Nav Bara - board game played in India

Compared to modern video games these games lack high production values marked by hundreds of detailed 3d modelled characters and unfolding of several hours worth of intricate plots and storylines. These traditional games don't have any stories, they are mostly tests of skill or chance. They were fun interactive experiences fuelled by imagination.

What's wrong with my digital game?

The biggest advantage board games have is the trust factor. They exist in a familiar world - the real world. A world with familiar laws of physics and hence predictable outcomes.

Whereas a digital world is essentially a make-believe world created by the game designer. It may or may not follow the rules of the real world. If you touch this strange flower, it might wobble or it might balloon into a giant carnivorous plant. You are not quite sure. If the game designer did not leave tell-tale signs on the flower, the only way to find out is to risk touching it.

To players who are adventurous, this sounds like fun. After all, exploration in a safe world ought to be a fun experience. But you cannot leverage all the experience you had in the real world (which certainly took you several years) into this new world immediately. It is an alien environment and you must invest some time in getting familiar. Even then, there is always an element of Deus ex machina lurking the dark crevices of a digital game.

Board games on the other hand involve familiar or even everyday objects to create experiences which are much greater than sum of its parts. A token on the board will not mutate into something else if you move it to the next square on the board. Nor will it affect the real world you are playing in (unless you are playing Jumanji ).

This principle of least surprise primes you to play the actual game once you finish explaining the game's rules. Unlike a typical video game, there is no unneeded exploration to get a feel of the environment. In other words, you don't need to learn to stand up before you can start running.

Another great advantage these non-digital games have is the ease of modifying them. Changing a fundamental game rule such as whether you can use the joker in pack of cards requires just a simple consensus between players. The game rule changes and, in turn, changes the game experience.

On the other hand, a digital game is built using programming tools which in turn builds a rigid mathematical model of the game world. The rules and character behaviours are generally fixed. With the exception of a few games like SimCity or Minecraft, free-style play is discouraged in favour of a mission-oriented game design. For instance, you cannot turn a fire-breathing dragon into a pet.

Rise in popularity of the game-modding community however highlights the desire to do so. Thousands of enthusiasts who like to customise their game experiences from tweaking a game character's face to reprogramming the enemy AI behaviour enjoy playing and sharing these modifications. However, these modding tools have steep learning curves and need considerable investments in time and effort.

What's right with my digital game?

What digital games sometimes lack in content is often made up in presentation. Colorful and animated worlds are often the hallmark of digital games. The latter aspect i.e. animated movement is a key element for explaining their appeal.

Computer games and in fact TV screens appeal to the T-Rex part of our brains. This reptilian cohabitant gets easily mesmerised by rapid movements and flashy lights. It expects something essential to survival to happen when there might be none. It is simply a trick on our evolutionary instincts. However, the trick doesn't work for long as a boring game will not sustain continued interest.

Nevertheless, this initial impression gives digital games an edge over traditional games. A well designed digital game might be more appealing than a well designed board game, especially to young adults.

Digital games also enjoy the advantage of easy distribution. Even within the PC game industry, digital distribution by online purchases is overtaking retail sales of boxed games.

Once made available on the internet, a digital game becomes universally available and ready to play once setup. On the other hand, even if a board game is made free to print-and-play, it takes a lot of cutting and setting up to start playing.

In addition, non-digital games with extensive rules requires someone to read and understand all the rules even before the play begins. Even then, some of the rules might be missed or misinterpreted by an inexperienced player.

The rigidness of the digital game's world avoids all these pitfalls. The game world is setup as soon as you begin playing and the rules being inviolable can be learnt by exploration. This lowers the barrier of entry to start enjoying the game.

This is a crucial advantage to a causal player who would like to start playing the game as soon as possible rather than get involved in the formalities of learning the game.

Can we have the best of both worlds?

We can certainly imagine a marriage of both worlds - digital and non-digital games. The digital avatars of typical board game like Chess or Cluedo attempt to do just that.

They offer the convenience and packaging of a digital game, yet they use familiar game objects like dice or tokens. However, the end result might not always be well executed. The entire user interface needs to be as intuitive as a board game. Often touch screens like iPads are a good platform for such hybrid games. However, the flexibility of a board game inevitably loses when it enters the rigid world of digital games.

In conclusion, board games are an invaluable legacy that imparts a lot of fun with familiar objects. But would the legacy survive the onslaught of digital revolution in its present form? Or will it evolve into a hybrid variation of both? Only a throw of the dice can tell :)

PS: The headline is paraphrased from a dialog in the cult-classic film The Big Lebowski (1998), "Smokey, this is not 'Nam. This is bowling. There are rules."

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