Aug. 20, 2009

Have you ever completely embarrassed yourself in front of a large group of people? And even though you know you’re totally bombing, you can’t seem to stop the train wreck from happening? I’m kind of like a really enthusiastic train wreck, all the time.
My sister, Jenny, asked if I’d help her out at their annual church campout this year. She needed someone to do a few games, sing a few songs, basically jump in and get the party started. Since I was here last year and my games were a relatively decent hit, I willingly obliged.
“Oh,” I say, “I have the perfect game. It’s so much fun, you’re gonna love it!”
“What’s it called?” she asks.
“Shrieking Viking,” I say.
“Um, okay.”
I then went on to describe this totally awesome game and told her how everyone was going to want to play it because it is so totally awesome. In a nutshell, you have to shriek. Like a Viking. Hil-arious.
“Fine, whatever,” she says.
So we get to the campout and there are at least twice as many people than there were last year. Strangers. Strangers who don’t know about me and my strange games. Still, I’ve never been one to shy away from a crowd, so undaunted, I pressed on.
My sister gave a nice little welcome speech to the quiet crowd, and as she finished, she whispers to me, “Maybe we should skip the games.”
“No way, I know what I’m doing,” I say. “Okay everyone!” I jump up and stand next to her, a sea of mostly unfamiliar faces looming in front of me. “I’ve got a great game to play, and I’ve been just dying to try it out on a fun group like this! Who wants to play?”
Immediately, seven dirty little hands shoot into the air. That’s right; every single one of my eager volunteers is under the age of eight.
Have you ever tried to sell adult disposable diapers to teenagers? Convincing the adults to try my riotously fun game was about that successful.
Somehow I managed to force a handful of old acquaintances, a few of the teenage girls and my seriously doubtful sister, to make a circle. In the middle of the campout. With all the non-gamers watching.
Looking back, subconsciously I knew right then and there that the entire thing was going to implode like bad soufflé.
Now, if you’ve ever had the pleasure of playing Shrieking Viking, you’ll realize that you either need to be drunk, blackmailed, or extremely uninhibited to play along. I forgot this little fact when I started my game charade.
Sparing you the painful details, I’ll tell you right now that game fizzled faster than a firecracker in a toilet bowl. And as far as my professional gaming career is concerned, so did I.

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