It is called Das verructe labyrinth. Known also as The aMAZEing Labirynth or just Labirynth. Published by Ravensburger in 1986 roku was then republished in 16 different editions and gave a birth of whole range of games with Labirynth in name. True classic. Best-seller. And – what is more – the boardgame of my childhood. I do really have no idea how it got into my home. It was a deep communism in Poland then, no boardgames in stores. It must have been sent to us in some package from Germany. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I spent countless hours with it.

It’s been more than 20 years ago. I still remember playing it with my parents and brother. I still have photo in my old photo album with me playing the game. I loved that game. I believed then I will play it till my last day. Unfortunately, I grew up.

I got to know Role Playing Games, I got to know hundreds of exciting things to do. My box with Labirynth disappeared. Lost in time. Adventure has been finished. It seemed for ever. Well… Not for ever.

Three years ago my friend Adam Hammudeh brought his copy of Labirynth to our gaming club. When I saw box, I felt thrill. My eyes opened wide. Heart beat stronger. Memories become live again. I asked Adam if I can borrow the game. 'No problem. Have a good time with your kids’ he said and I took Labirynth with me. It was nearly 15 years since I have it last time.

It was amazing. It was time travel. I was sitting at my table, with my kids and I was playing Labirynth. Magical moments. Could I – 20 years ago – believe that when I will be adult, I will still play this game? I couldn’t.

We played for a few months. I sat with my kids and together we fought to find best track to our goal items. Every single game of Labitynth with my kids was like a best game ever. I had a great time.

Unfortunately, finally my kids grew up…

I’ ve just packed my Labirynth to box. The adventure is finished, again. My son wants to play Galaxy Trucker, Nina wants to play Kingsburg, and in a fact, Descent is their favourite. 'Dad, Labitynth is a kids game’ they said. It is over. Labirynth goes at the bottom of wardrobe. I will miss it for few years.

My youngest daughter has 2 years. In three years I will pull out the box from wardrobe. I will put it on my table. And again, I will be the happiest man on the planet.

I spent some 35 minutes at Bazik’s house, we were in a hurry – Merry, me and Folko. We managed to have some tea and play two short, very quick games. That visit has cost me 10 Euro, because Merry absolutely fell in love with the first of the two games. So it resulted in an order and a money transfer.

I spent 90 minutes in total at a two-day convention in Belk. You could say that I just dropped by, said hello to friends, had some tea and went back home. Costs? 40 Zloty for petrol and as much again for “To Court the King”. To be honest I didn’t even play it. I just came in, saw the cards, listened to how it’s played and went home. Then I switched on my PC, fired up the browser and ordered the game from Rebel.

Seriously, one is scared to go out, to meet with friends. Wherever I go, costs follow. One visit and the shopping list gets longer, a game catches my eye and the wallet goes like crazy.

Anyway, what can I say, I’m not innocent myself. I take a heavy toll too, you could say. You go and visit me, or invite me to your place and you can be sure it’ll cost you dearly.

I came back from Warsaw yesterday, one evening at friends’, and those friends are now 10 Euro down. They rather liked Adel Verpflichtet, which I brought with me to show them. One meeting with Folk at “Pionek” where I demonstrated Verflixxt to him and his wallet suffers. I invited Bogas and the visit has cost him a bit, you know – petrol, delicious cake, and a decision to buy Mall of Horror…

Unfortunately it’s like good games screamed to us: „You have to have me, you have to have me!” And with friends it’s like they never put some unplayable Pinocchio on the table, oh no! You’re barely past the doorstep, barely manage to agree to a cup of tea, when you hear they had recently bought a fantastic game which you have to see and play. And so the best game from their collection lands on the table, the pearl they want to show off, the wonder making you think on your way home: “Great, awesome, I have to have it.”

I’m looking at my shelf and see these titles – Dungeon Twister? Bazik’s fault. The Pillars of the Earth? Pancho’s doing. Heckmeck? Revenge for Adel Verpflichtet. Yes, it’s the friends from Warsaw…

How are you supposed to socialize? How to meet gamers? How to visit friends? Seriously, it’s a scare. With terrifying consequences…

Tomek reports what’s up in Warsaw: „We also play Boomtown, we play it till we drop. The Folks like it for its interaction. The women win. Same with Manila – there’s always some woman with most cash at the end, and boats with my men can never arrive. Some kind of conspiracy.” A week earlier he wrote: “Aska wins in Adel Verpflichtet every time. I have no idea how she does it.” Two weeks earlier it was my turn to flood his inbox with my sorrow, to report with sadness that I had been crushed by Merry in the Pillars of the Earth.

I have a regular correspondence with Tomek. We comfort each other and feel for each other, sharing our true astonishment for our Beloved Women and their unfair game table practices. Let’s say it aloud – women do not play fair.

When Tomek sits down to play a game, he has a plan. He has an idea for a win, and he follows that idea. You can see it in his every gesture and every word. You can hear it in a triumphant Ha! shouted after an especially successful move. You can see it in the proud way he reaches for his wine glass or how he hits his fist against the knee after an especially successful move.
Asia lacks all these sincere gestures. She smiles innocently and makes us put our guard down. Asia asks for a glass of wine or some tea biscuits. She won’t admit to having a victorious plan, she won’t betray it with any gesture or sign telling that behind those glasses of wine, behind those tea biscuits there is a machine rising. A machine that is about to crush me, Tomek and every other man at the table. It’ll flatten us like a steam roller. Women do not play fair.

As for me, my mouth doesn’t shut as they say. I comment, give advice, tell off and mock. I live the game, I live every placed tile, every played card. I live more with every turn, to the point where every opponent knows what to do, what not to do. I live it so much, that towards the end of the game everyone knows what the person on my left is supposed to do, even the neighbours from the opposite house.
Women pretend that the game doesn’t interest them that much. Merry manages to feed the kids, help both daughters with the homework and even do the washing. The board? Oh, she’ll move two pawns, play a card and goes back to pretending that something else has her attention. The dog needs walking, the canary needs water. Sometimes the deception is of epic proportions. I say deception, because it’s all a smokescreen. This nonchalance of moves, this apparent lack of involvement, it’s all there just to have us put our guard down, to make us not take her seriously. To allow her to stay unnoticed, underestimated, secretly striving for victory.

She always does it, and week after week we put our guard down. There’s admirable mastery in it, and insincerity deserving condemnation. Women do not play fair.

If things don’t go well for Tomek, he literally breaks the board with his forehead. He leans over it so deep, like he wanted to move pawns with his stare, to make them reconsider and get out of the spots that were reserved for him. He raises his hands to the sky imploringly, and frowns back at the pawns. Tomek does not approve of those opponents’ moves that cross him. And he demonstrates this lack of approval to everyone around. Including the neighbour from Nr. 3.

Asia doesn’t wave her hands. She doesn’t hit her knee. She doesn’t eye other players inviting them to share the drama that’s happening on the board. Like all women she calmly accepts what consecutive turns bring, calmly adjusts her plans and step by step gets closer to victory. Of course we, the fair playing men, have no idea such plans exist at all. She doesn’t fret and fume, doesn’t waste strength on rubbing her forehead and doesn’t brood over other players’ sins. Asia, and all other women with her, plays calmly and is carried to victory by her serenity. This is not fair.

I’m not asking you to stop winning. I’ve got enough pride not to beg for mercy or handicap, for letting some of my, or Tomek’s plans succeed once in a while. No, we don’t want your mercy. The only thing I’m asking you for, our Beloved Better Halves, is to at least pretend that you had to make some effort to defeat us. Don’t make it look so easy. I’m asking you, begging even.

I’ve been wondering recently what makes me a fan of board games. Why do I enjoy them so much? Why do I like Mondays, when I meet with my friends and spend whole afternoons leaning over boards? I’ve written down some obvious answers.

I like to hold a new box in my hands. I like to unwrap it, eagerly look inside, and pick up the tiles sheet. I like to pick up the board, unfold it and examine from all possible angles. I like to touch the pawns, the dice, and dip my fingers into all that colourful stuff. I like to hear the magical clicking of the tiles being pushed out of the cardboard sheet. I like to tear the wrapping film off a deck of cards… Ok, I’m lying now. I don’t like unwrapping cards.

But I like the moment, when a new game lands on the table. Those frantic moments when players fight for pawns and argue who takes the green ones and who the yellow ones. When they trace the board with their fingers asking tens of absurd questions. Are the yellow cubes built in these buildings? Can I play a bricklayer family, since I have the red pawns? I’m playing with the yellow ones, so being the Chinese I should get double the number of pawns, may I? And so on, and so forth. Madness. A new game means big expectations, a lot of positive emotions and joy in its purest form.

Oh, the cake is also a reason why I like board games. The cake and the tea biscuits. And most of all I like board games with a board so big, that there is no more space for the cake and the biscuits left on it. I’ll hold It, I usually say and put the biscuit bowl next to me. I sip my tea with my hand among the different sweets. Biscuits are usually brought by Multidej, baking by Bogas and Dagmara and chockolate in big quantities by Salou. Eventually it all lands inside the reach of my hand. And I admit plainly – these are my beloved moments.

I like to know about games. I gather this knowledge by various means. I browse through foreign web sites looking for information, pictures of new releases, fans’ opinions and professional reviews. I read Swiat Gier Planszowych (The World of Board Games magazine) from cover to cover. I roam sites like Games Frantic, Kraina Gier, gry-planszowe.pl and many more, absorbing information, ensuring my need for knowledge is appeased. Unfortunately, it never is. And that’s why I discuss games.

I debate with Tomek by mail, bragging about what I’ve played, telling him what is remarkable and what to avoid. I like long, sincere men talks, when we talk over our Better Halves and prove to ourselves that our attitude towards games, not theirs, is the appropriate one. It surely is. I like the “skype” chat with Pancho, when we indulge ourselves in all kinds of gossip, from recommendations, to comments regarding recent publishers’ news. I debate every Monday, in the club, talking to Mst about games, asking for his opinion on various titles.

What I also like about board games is writing about them. Like here, now. When I sit at the computer in the evening and share my passion with you. I like the fact that, thanks to board games, I could start the MDK club in Gliwice, that I could organize “Pionek”, a magical event, to which smiling gamers come from all over Poland. I like the fact, that I always misinterpret the rules and as a result I can always play one game according to two or three sets of alternative rules. I also like how the boxes form such marvelous piles…

Actually, what I also like about board games is the fact, that you can play them too. But I get the feeling that it’s one thing I could manage without. Without biscuits by the table, without email debates with Tomek, without piling up boxes on the shelf it would be a lot harder for me…