What IS a game anyway, exactly? The simplest definition I can find is “a structured form of play”.
Games can be played for fun, for entertainment, or as a teaching tool. Some say games are separate from “work” . . . but don’t some people play games for money? And don’t some play games professionally? And don’t some people also enjoy their jobs very much?
Roger Caillois, author of Les jeux et les hommes (Games and Men)*, gives his own list of criteria, whereby a game must have the following characteristics:
- fun: the activity is chosen for its light-hearted character
- separate: it is circumscribed in time and place
- uncertain: the outcome of the activity is unforeseeable
- non-productive: participation does not accomplish anything useful
- governed by rules: the activity has rules that are different from everyday life
- fictitious: it is accompanied by the awareness of a different reality
Let’s see how Ten Candles stacks up with the above definition of a game. I’ve never played it, but I have listened to a lot of its playthroughs, which made me think a lot about the ins and outs of participating.
- Is it fun? Well, I suppose it is if so many people are playing it, raving about how much they enjoy it, and trying to get their friends to play. It seems to me that very few people outside the field of game design have reason to praise a game unless they genuinely enjoy it. So yes, this factor supports the premise that Ten Candles is indeed a game.
- Is it separate in the way described in Caillois’s list? I suppose it is. There are a limited number of locations set up by the GM, in an overall setting that, while quite large, is somehow isolated (at least, in every playthrough I’ve listened to).
- Is it non-productive, in that it does not “accomplish anything useful” ? I’m going to assume that in 1957, society’s line definition of “useful” was far more practical and well-defined than our own definition of it is today.
- Is it governed by rules? No doubt about it.
- Is it fictitious? Definitely “yes”.
Oh, wait! . . . have I missed something? What about #3?
As a gamer and a game designer, I admit that my own context includes a profound preference in favor of uncertainty in the outcome of almost any game. For me, wondering what will happen next, trying to predict what will happen, and trying to influence the game’s events are all very important.
Here’s one of the world’s tiniest, most harmless spoilers: One of the first things people learn about Ten Candles is that by the end of the story, the player’s characters will all be dead.
Comparing Ten Candles to other games
At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. But then, I started comparing Ten Candles to other games. Out of all the thousands of games I’ve played, how many of them would I want to play if the outcome was written in stone before I’d even sat down at the table? For game players, the answers will vary. For me, the answer is: very few, maybe none.
Under those circumstances, I wouldn’t play Terraforming Mars, 7 Wonders, or Ticket to Ride. Not just because I wouldn’t win — but because of the foreknowledge of how everything would resolve. Suppose for a moment, that Major League Baseball made a public decision in advance about which team would win every game of the next baseball season, all the way up to the World Series. If you’re a baseball fan with a favorite team, would that arrangement still deliver the same shots of excitement for you as it does now?
But for me, it goes even a bit farther than that. Because Ten Candles doesn’t stop with a hard rule that all characters die by the end. It also dooms everybody in the world, indeed the world itself. Whatever dangers now beset the game world, you will die. In fact, everyone you’ve ever known is either dead or doomed. Humanity is on the verge of extinction, because “They” are on their effortless march to victory.
There’s nothing wrong with horror. I know a lot of Ten Candles fans enjoy the horror. They might even get a rush from the tragedy: people do watch tragic movies and plays, after all. Tragedies include a large portion of the world’s most compelling drama.
In conclusion, my opinion of Ten Candles is this: it’s a highly immersive, dramatic experience in tragic horror. But it’s not a game. It’s a group of players, collaborating with their Game Master in the forging of a compelling dramatic experience.
And as far as my opinion of it not qualifying as a game? How important is that, really?
Even though this is a game I’ll never play, I’m not trashing Ten Candles. If I was down on the game, I wouldn’t listen to the game’s YouTube playthroughs. (Some of the conversations that take place during play are quite compelling.) If you like Ten Candles, and would like to try listening to a playthrough, I recommend it for a long car ride at night. The best one I’ve heard so far is called The Last Boat.
*published by Éditions Gallimard, 1957.
Boca de Lobo 