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Editor’s note: Changing the stakes changes the game, as Brian discovered in this personal account of user error, global spice production, and a game of 1 vs. 100. -Demian
Along with video games, game shows have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was growing up, I simply could not get enough of them. Press Your Luck, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy!, Tic-Tac-Dough — the list could go on and on. My love for game shows has not abated as I’ve grown up, either, and my wife thankfully turned out to be as much of a junkie as I am. Let’s just say that it got a little dusty in my house when Bob Barker retired.
So naturally, I followed the news of 1 vs. 100 coming to Xbox Live with great interest, and have been playing the beta every now and then since its release. I definitely enjoy it — it’s relatively fast-paced, the questions are pretty good, and there’s a fun sense of competition among the four people in your lobby. Best of all, as far as I’m concerned, is the ability for a local player to join the game for free (as this way my wife and I can play together), and we’ve had fun thus far.
Now as many of you probably know, two weekends ago the beta “season” officially started, which meant that for the first time, actual prizes — download codes for Live Arcade games and Microsoft space bucks — were at stake for the Mob and the One during the live sessions. We missed the first prize weekend, but managed to get in on the action this past Saturday.
The first round wasn’t particularly exciting, as the One made it a few questions in and then used the toxic “Trust the Brain” help (usually, the high scorers in any 1 vs 100 round are those who randomly pick an answer before they’re revealed and button-mash like crazy, hoping to maximize their speed bonus and actually get the question right, if they’re lucky). While the new Mob and One were being chosen, I went to the fridge to get a drink. When I sat back down, I noticed that instead of the purple stripes of the Crowd behind my avatar, I had the blue dots of the Mob!
“Holy crap, I’m in the effing Mob!” I exclaimed. The odds of being selected were so remote that I had never even considered it as a possibility, and as the realization that I could actually *win something* hit my brain, I could feel the thumping of my quickening heart rate reverberating through my chest. The first few questions were pretty easy, and despite my shaking hands, I found myself getting back into my normal pattern of play — poising my thumb over the button for each answer as it was revealed, ready to strike at the first possible moment — and I was doing as good as I usually do. Then…it happened.
The question popped up, as innocently as you please, “Where is 86% of the world’s spice produced?” I hovered my thumb over the X button as “China” showed up. Nope, that’s not it. I moved to A as “Japan” appeared. Hmm, probably not it either. Then “India” appeared in the third box, and as I heard the chime of one of my lobbymates locking in, I knew that was it and jabbed my thumb down.
Note: I never mentioned anything about moving my thumb over to B.
In anguish, I hammered the B button as many times as I could, but nothing could be done — and I watched helplessly as I was knocked out of the Mob with three other people. I despondently kept playing, hoping that the One would take the money and run — rendering my mistake moot — but the jackass actually failed to answer two questions later (both of which I got right, of course) and the remaining Mob members all got a free copy of Puzzle Quest and 400 points.
I slammed my controller to the couch and shut off the 360 in rage. How could I have been so incredibly stupid as to hit the wrong button? Plus, you’re only eligible for the Mob once per session, so what was the point of continuing to play?
Now, two days later, I’ve been able to give it a little bit of thought. In all honesty, a game that I didn’t really like all that much (I played the trial, and jewel-matching games aren’t my thing) and five virtual dollars is a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things, and had I made the same mistake in a round when nothing was at stake, I would have laughed it off and went on with my day. So why was I so mad?
Let’s look at this from the other side for a second. If I had gotten that question right and ended up winning, I would have been elated — far more than I should have been, probably. And one thing that I can tell you is that after the initial shock and delight of making it into the Mob had worn off, I was a nervous wreck — plus, instead of there being good-natured competition and banter between my wife and I, you could have cut the tension in our living room with a knife. So really, raising the stakes of the game made the high of winning higher, the low of losing lower, and sucked all the fun out of actually playing the game in the first place.
This seems to apply to other situations in life as well, doesn’t it? After all, a poker night with your buddies for a $10 buy-in is usually a better time than a casino tournament with a bunch of delusional wannabes thinking they’re the next Phil Ivey; it’s much more relaxing watching a football game when you *don’t* have $100 riding on one of the Gramatica brothers making a 48-yard field goal; and it’s way more fun playing a round of golf when you’re not worrying about impressing your boss.
On second thought, scratch that last one — golf is never fun.