Play On: An Ode to Game Night

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Grab some friends and family and indulge in the perfect fall activity.

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Grab some friends and family and indulge in the perfect fall activity.

S norta. The geniuses at Out of the Box Games couldn’t have created a more perfect way to exacerbate the already-high noise level in the Schutte home. Before you scoff at the seemingly silly title, listen to the rules:

Objective: To be the first player out of cards.

Items: Cards with pictures of farm animals, a mini plastic barn for each player, and an assortment of animal figurines. Pick one whose sound you don’t mind singing out loud and clear.


Method: Working clockwise around the group, lay a card faceup in front of you. When someone else in the circle lays down a card that matches your card, you must make the sound of their animal figurine before they make the sound of yours.

Okay, you can scoff now. Yes, it is as ridiculous, noisy, and chaotic as it sounds, compounded by my mom’s inability to play matching games and our family’s tendency to devolve into existential discussions. Without a doubt, though, this game has given us some of the most entertaining evenings we’ve ever enjoyed.

Fall is the perfect game season. Whether you prefer card games or board games, strategic games or fast-paced games, shorter days and colder weather provide the perfect backdrop for all of them. Holidays, too, often mean game time, as families gather and look for activities to spice up the party. Tripoli is the festive game of choice here — but beware to the hapless person who goes out first in the Michigan Rummy section.




Enjoyable as Rummy is, it doesn’t compare with that delightfully regional eccentricity, Euchre. An obsession in the Midwest, it’s almost unheard of elsewhere (or, at least, it’s known by a different name). Often, even if a card game is relatively universal, house rules can differ dramatically, causing quite the stir among guests. Case in point: The next time you play Uno (the favorite game of cheaters everywhere), every time someone lays down a six, if anyone talks while that number is on top of the pile, they must draw six cards. Ask 100 people what the best card game is, and you’ll probably get 100 different answers. Need a card game with some skill and luck involved? Try Golf. Enjoy mass pandemonium? Play Mau or ERS.

The number of games on store shelves and elsewhere is staggering. Strategies, words, role-playing, cards, skill — the list is almost endless. Why do we play them? Community is certainly a part of it, as is competition and bragging rights. It allows for a flow of conversation, and an appropriate place for banter and smack talk. Learning to play games, especially as children, is deeply important. Yes, we play them for enjoyment, but the elements of teamwork and critical thinking that come with them are vital. Even more so is the fact that we must learn how to win and lose gracefully.


Crucially, though, it’s a time for laughter. Not mockery, mind you, but genuine, hearty laughter. Laughter that makes your chest hurt and your eyes stream. Laughing in the context of community and also at oneself is undeniably important, giving us a respite from the serious and grim aspects of the world around us. We can laugh at ourselves cynically or derisively, but can we laugh at ourselves honestly and jovially?

That said, there are some families who missed these lessons in graceful losing and in happy laughter. For others, merely mentioning the word “Monopoly” drags up old grudges from that Christmas of ’06. In our home, my happily married parents refuse to play Scrabble with each other to ensure domestic peace. Farkle is unmentionable around sibling No. 2, while Five Crowns (a fabulous game, in my opinion) is loathed by sibling No. 3. We’ve played Scattergories together so many times that we can anticipate what my dad will put down for “Song Titles Starting With ‘D.’” Finally, if you ever play Trouble with sibling No. 2, I’m truly sorry.


Play Bananagrams, but give each round a different theme — or only allow Latin words. Find an old version of Milton Bradley’s game of Life (absolutely not the version with credit cards) and see which player can collect the most children. In a long-distance relationship? Yahtzee over FaceTime is a wonderful option. Feeling creative? Try mixing Scattergories with Apples to Apples and see what happens. By far the most popular game in my house is Crazy Daisy, a Christmas gift made by my dad for sibling No. 6. If you’re particularly adventurous, pick up Mahjong (the American version). Complicated at first, this game is truly engaging and well worth the effort to learn.

Okay, so maybe there’s not much to laugh about during a game of chess, or much competitiveness in Pretty, Pretty Princess. What, then, is the deepest draw of playing games? Memories. Each game evokes a thought, a time, a feeling, a place. It brings you back to that one Christmas Eve, that sense of warmth, that dining-room table. You remember that conversation with your aunt, the silly grin on your fiancé’s face, and that eye roll from your mom. Where would we be without our memories and the games that suggest them?


There’s one game memory I will forever cherish, and it lives on in our family lore. There are two facts you must know: One, my father is a wise and discreet marriage counselor, and two, sibling No. 7 was nine at the time of these events. Taboo was in full swing, girls vs. guys. True to form, the ladies had the game in the bag, but the men were fighting valiantly. They had the floor, but time was ticking away rapidly. In a desperate attempt to get his team to guess the right word (and being unable to use the terms “marriage,” “affair,” “unfaithful,” “cheating,” or “spouse”), sibling No. 5 said, “Um, Dad works with these people.” Without missing a beat, sibling No. 7 yelled out, “Adultery!”

Score one for the guys.


Fall has cast its chill, Thanksgiving looms, and Christmas is visible. Grab a game, a beer, and some willing (or unwilling) friends and family and settle in for a rollicking time of laughter and memories.

Sarah Schutte is the podcast manager for National Review and an associate editor for National Review magazine. Originally from Dayton, Ohio, she is a children's literature aficionado and Mendelssohn 4 enthusiast.
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