The appeal of chance

Kate and I stopped by The Source: Comics and Games store on Larpenteur yesterday to pick up a game to play. Inside, the store was bustling with something called "Friday Night Magic," which is basically a Magic: The Gathering tournament. Magic is a collectable card game that follows a narrative somewhat like Dungeons and Dragons, though it is not role-play. In short, it's a game that involves a fair deal of preparation, work, money and, of course, chance.

My first observation about Friday Night Magic was that it is popular; in fact, I couldn't believe how popular it was. My second, related, observation was that this is a kind of strange thing. More than anything else, Magic is a bit of a paradox. It attracts the kinds of people who have long, scraggly beards and are into video games and comic books, but it's also expensive. Seriously, very expensive. In order to stay up on things, a person has to constantly be purchasing new cards. Only a handful of people in the world turn their Magic-playing into money. The rest are into it for the sheer joy of the game. And winning, I dare say.

Poker is one thing, because poker has the excuse of being a money-maker. Many people can and do make money on poker (though it should be noted that that money is always at the expense of somebody else). Yet, Magic is popular--maybe not as popular as poker but in the same neighborhood--and there really isn't money in it. So, my real question after thinking about this is 'Why?'

I used to play Magic and I sometimes play poker, so I'm not completely out of the loop. Magic is a creative kind of game--this is certainly part of the popularity--but I think the real appeal is for a rather simple reason: there is chance. You can spend and spend and spend, and all you are doing is giving yourself a better chance. In poker and Magic both, you can play brilliantly--in fact, you can make the best possible decisions--and you can still lose. This is why both games are frustrating and also very attractive.

Our culture loves games of chance. Actually, I think human beings in general, love games of chance. Incredibly, we hardly even care when the odds are stacked against us. If I told you and three of your friends to give me $1 and randomly one of you would win $2, most people wouldn't do it. But if I tell you and your 50 million friends to give me $1, and one of you would win $20 million many will be all over it. Super-charge the odds and suddenly games become more attractive. It is the power of the 'What if?'

I say this all because I enjoyed Magic and I enjoy poker, but neither works for me. I've played enough games of chance to realize that somebody's going to win, more are going to lose and I feel like I'm wasting my time. These are the kinds of things I love to do with friends on Friday night--almost any board game is a game of chance. But if I'm going to invest my time in something I want it to be something for which I have nobody to blame but myself. This is why I enjoy chess. It's also why I look at a roomful of Magic players and think, "Man, I wish more people cared enough to work at something that is both meaningful and hard." Pick up an instrument, put on some running shoes, crack open a math textbook, or do a science experiment. For me, it's chess. Maybe it doesn't make the world a better place, but I can think of no better way to challenge myself. The appeal of chance has past: time to get back to work.