By Lindsay Gibb
As the new editor of an independent art magazine I find myself feeling guilty. The guilt stems from my love for some things that are brought to me by the mainstream. Things I probably shouldn’t admit in these pages, but will before I think about it too much and lose my nerve. Things like Phil Collins and Coronation Street and the board game Trouble. While working on this issue of the magazine the latter made me feel really guilty. Going into this issue I knew very few indie games, but all I could keep thinking about was how much I love Trouble.
When I was a teenager, imagining my future wedding, I was adamant that it would be “different.” Unlike a lot of the cookie-cutter, traditional weddings I had been to, mine was going to be more fun. I had a lot of different, and mostly ridiculous, scenarios, but the one constant feature was the centerpieces. They were definitely going to be Trouble boards. This plan of mine eventually made its way around my extended family, and was the subject of conversation at holiday gatherings. The usual response was laughter and ribbings from the older, more crotchety members of the family, but the more people teased, the more sure I was that this must be my greatest idea…ever.
A few years ago, when I announced my engagement, this idea was the subject on everyone’s lips. Was I actually going to have Trouble centerpieces at my wedding? Unfortunately the anti-climactic answer is no. I still tried to have the “different” wedding that I had envisioned, partially to spite those who think weddings have to be traditional, and partially for our own entertainment, but the Trouble games didn’t make the cut. Dancing won out in the end, and I feared that the more bashful invitees would sit around smacking the pop-o-matic bubble rather than getting up on the dancefloor.
I kind of regret it now. If I were to do it all again I would put a different game on each table (maybe Kerplunk and Chinese Checkers) and would watch to see if anyone traded or visited other tables to see what they had. Or maybe they would do what we did in my article Playing Dice with the Devil on page 16, mix and match pieces to make their own games. Or maybe I could have convinced them to run outside and play Manhunt or Tag (like in Mike Drach’s article on page12). All of these things, I think, would be more fun than dancing any day.