Um, Sure, Come On Over to My House to Play

The next Owl House Game Day is coming up, and, as always, anxiety always accompanies game day. The experience is one of those yin-yang moments in life—and it’s clear that the yin-yang diagram and concept is so resonant and long-lived because there are so many of those moments in life—because game day is usually fun, exciting, challenging, and a chance to really engage with one of my preferred leisure activities, but there are also guests. Some of these guests are professional colleagues, some are friends from other places, and some are people I don’t know all that well. In each case, I want the house to look good, the games to be interesting, the snacks to be tasty, and the day and evening to flow smoothly. We’re social creatures who tend to judge each other quickly, and setting up a good experience for everyone should mean that the judgments will be meted out on the positive side. From that judgment, I hope that the players will come back for another day of gaming.

The tension is exacerbated by the general demands of family life. The hosting of game day would be much easier if I were a bachelor living alone in a modestly roomy apartment, a few posters up, shelves of games adding to the insulation factor,and a dining room and den set up for game day. Maybe even a dedicated beer fridge. If I had a girlfriend who liked games, she could come over. If she didn’t, she could pursue her own interests.

This spartan lifestyle, however, is not mine. My wife is generous when it comes to my gaming interests, and my toddler daughter is fairly even-tempered. Even so, getting the house straightened, scrubbing surfaces, sweeping up, and organizing the chaos that tiny hands can summon takes time, energy, and patience. I’ll add “planning” to that list as well. Do we wait for nap time? Try to get the prep work done on Friday night after the girl has gone to bed? There are no timeless answers. Sometimes we need to use one strategy, and at other times we use another. But it all gets done.

It all gets done because it must get done. I don’t feel the obligation of host as a heavy weight, but I do understand that guests expect some degree of organization. Or they won’t come back. For most of my guests, that’s not a problem. Game day’s a kind of extravagance, a time to sit down with people and play. Other guests would be disappointed; they like games and don’t often get the opportunity to pursue that interest. The person who would really lose would be me. I’m the one with the large collection slowly returning to earth (very slowly, I hope, and if I store them right…very slowly indeed) and a desire to explore the kinds of imaginative spaces and interactions that come with playing games.

I’ve said all of this to point out that there’s a lot at stake for me in game day. Part of what’s at stake is selfish: I want to have fun, and I want other people to want to come back. Part of what’s at stake is unselfish: I want people to have fun. Both parts interrelate, and the relationships can be tricky to pull apart and consider all on its own. So I won’t. Not here, at least. But maybe once all the guests have gone home.