Parlour games in the vestibule? Dont mind if I do squire…

Mastermind to me is not a grouchy Humphry’s sandwiched between an orchestra of social inadequates as they smugly answer questions about the Grupo Montparnasse period. The BBC intellectual blue riband clashes continue to be frustrating to the layman. That said, I confess I correctly answered 4 specialist subject questions concurrently recently, sadly unwitnessed, prior to reverting to type and struggling to comprehend the questions, let alone the answers.
No, Mastermind to me is a classic board game portrayed by an out of focus photo of a pretty young Asian woman standing next to a pretty aged, ginger bearded, octopus pawed male. Chipboard cover discarded, it transforms into an addictive, if dull and moreish chance game to be begrudgingly endured by all the family.
Back from the downtime abyss, parlour games have made a comeback in my family. Having spent weeks in this here column bemoaning the technology overkill with which we smother our young, we have, in the last few months, played Monopoly a few times a week with roaring success. It is educational (teaching about Business, failure and risk), keeps you engaged and tests the range of human emotions, from fear and anguish to defeat and mind blowing glory. Granted, it can sometimes drag on for 6 hours too long leaving you too clear up after a wounding defeat to a Gordon Gekkoesque 8-year-old.
That said, despite the board game resurrection, there are certain adults that I point blank refuse to play Monopoly with. One cheats mercilessly, and somehow ends up with all the pink notes when sitting within 20 metres of the bank, throws the dice before you have time to collect your dues and elicits properties that have never been landed on, and another is a fellow Aries. Although an unbeliever in the mystique of star signs, if a fellow April born player is partaking, then I’m out, thus avoiding the ruckus that would ensue as the rams’ clash, despite the goading and chicken noises directed as you watch through gritted teeth from the sidelines.
Connect 4 is also a winner in the longevity stakes. It is the board game equivalent of unchained melody. It comes in different guises but always delivers and its popularity endures. Triv is good, despite the awkwardness of technicoloured cheeses. Scrabble is also a stayer as long as you have a dictionary handy to check words like ‘becuddlemental’ for a 98 pointer on a triple word square.
Sadly, like the Madonna back catalogue, there is little new to pique the interest. Usually in the summer, when trying to amuse the bairns, we buy a board game or two to play in the caravan and they never surprise, always ending in underwhelming disappointment. Modern games are generally produced with inferior materials, and have forgotten about the number one rule of any participation genre: game play.
Cluedo, Hungry Hippos, Jenga and Battleships have it, games devised in the last 20 years do not. New games are like tennis. An age is spent on the logistics of setting it up, and between turns, with very little user activity. This leads to frustration, boredom and valuable space taken up in your understairs cupboard until you come across it again in 3 years’ time, and, forgetting how crushing it was the first time around, set it up again for further disappointment.
Like Haribo have managed in their dumbing down of the sweet world, Hasbro, and their compatriots should stop wasting cash on game development and invest in extending the classic products further. If it aint broke, why attempt to fix it? Yes, Mr Mattel, I don’t like the cut of your updated jib. You can keep your piranha panic, pie face, gooey louey and seagull splat. As for me, I will be spending this weekend, playing games in my ‘parlour’ masterminding how I will bankrupt my daughters whilst causing my wife to go becuddlemental.