I am a competitive person. I hate losing. I know what you’re thinking—Duh, Colleen. No one likes to lose. But no—I HATE losing. As in, I take losing the most simple games very personally. Losing in Scrabble? I must be an idiot who didn’t pay enough attention in 3rd Grade Vocabulary. Losing in Pictionary…did I NOT go to art school? I’m clearly not creative enough. But the worst game in the world to lose to—is Risk.
Here is a game that is designed to turn the players against each other. Sean and I have played a couple of times in the past, but it usually results in a huge fight. We hadn’t played the game in over a year—that is, until last week.
I decided to give Risk another try. Sean plays constantly on his computer, so being a good friend, I thought that for once, I’d give him an epic battle for control over the world.
The game started off well. No arguing, no fighting…no one flinging the board across the room. He gained control of Australia almost immediately, and I managed to hold South America. He moved on to Asia while I tried to keep Africa and attempting to gain more countries in North America. Things were even and although we were conquering each other, trying to keep one another from gaining and keeping a second continent, nothing was being done out of spite. That is, until Sean turned in his first set of 3 cards and got extra armies. I had just gained Africa and built up my men along the boarders. I thought for sure I was secure enough that I’d at least be able to thin out his armies if he came after me.
Only, that’s the thing about this game—just when you think you’re going to rule the Western Hemisphere, the dice have other things in mind. I must have rolled a “1” 12 times in a row. WHAT ARE THE ODDS OF THAT? So, I lost Africa, along with 12 of my men. I exhaled. It was ok…soon, I’d be turning in my own cards and I’d build up these armies again.
Only, Sean didn’t stop with taking my one continent away. He looked up into my eyes before grabbing those evil Red die and asked, “You’re not going to throw the board again, are you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That depends on what you’re next move is.”
“I’m serious, Colleen.”
“So am I, Sean.”
He decided to move on into South America and take Brazil. BRAZIL! Not only did he take Africa, 3 extra armies from me, but he stole my continent that evened our scores—HE had Australia (2 men), I had South America (2 men). We were even, but he tipped the scales.
I sat there dumbfounded for a moment as he utilized his ‘tactical move’ and rearranged his men. After a few seconds, he said: “It’s your turn.”
In my head, I thought I’d be cool and collected. I imagined myself tipping my hat to Sean and saying, Well played, sir. Well, played. But instead, my reply was: “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT, ASSHAT?”
“It’s a game, Colleen—it was a strategy. A tactical move within the game. Nothing personal.”
“Brazil, Sean! BRAZIL! And maybe you should have been considering your tactical moves within this RELATIONSHIP as opposed to this game. Ever think of that? This is the first time I’ve played in a year and you’ve gone and pissed me off!”
“But, Colleen, it’s just a ga–”
“BRAZIL!!!!!!”
My following turn, I managed to get 20 men and the turn after that, I got 45. I swept through Asia and Europe and didn’t care who of my men I lost. There was bloodshed. There was mayhem. And that’s the problem with this game—when you start to play emotionally and focus on revenge instead of taking control of the world, that’s when you know you’ve lost.
At about 2am, we were both exhausted from battle. Sean forfeited to me—even though he CLAIMS he could have won. He still forfeited. I win. He loses. I’m the ruler of the world—including BRAZIL.
