Back when I went to summer camp we once played a game. I liked it intensely. I believe it was called "predator" or something along those lines. Here's the jist of it:
Everyone at the camp was issued colored index cards which dictated their role-type. There was a string to wear the card around your neck to conspicuously display it. Your card also had a type of animal printed on it, but these were purely academic. You either got green cards which designated you as a bottom level (deer, opossum, mouse, woodchuck), blue indicating mid-level (fox, hawk, dingo, etc), or red as a top predator (bear, lion, shark?). The interesting bit is that greens got 7 cards, blue 5, and red only 3 cards. We were instructed to find food and water (also cards) and basically survive the time limit. (maybe the game was called survival)
Also introduced into the game were 4 counselors (gigantic 17 year olds who could run like wolves and were tall as redwood) with black cards. They were famine, disease, drought and the hunter and would kill anything they caught, no matter the color. (Well, famine and drought would take your food and water cards, but if you didn't have any you were dead) So it went, if someone of a higher order touched you, a card was surrendered until you had no more. Once you were dead-dead you went up to the dining hall for lemonade or something.
And we were released, 200 of us, into the lower camp with an artificial class system to wage the war of nature. This is where the really interesting stuff went down. People began to form groups; greens would naturally flock together. Blues moderately so, and reds would prowl like demons. Until of course disease came sweeping through; I swear you've never seen so many 8-14 year olds scrambling through the underbrush so quickly. Like buckshot through a dried bouquet.
Those of us that cared, survived. And we were good. As the rounds went by more creativity developed. Reds began walking around in larger groups to try and fool the quicker blues and flightiest of greens. Waiting predators would poach at edges of clearings where the water cards lay. The greens would warily creep and the red's tails would flick in anticipation. But the greens stopped; for seemingly no reason. A branch snapped as the hunter came crashing towards those reds, they flee and he pursues, the greens make a gambit for the water. We spent the entire day like that. Clamoring for more every time the whistle blew. Elbows were scraped, pants ripped, ankles rolled and heads bruised. This did not stop the game. It was life and we were animals.
I liked it intensely.
Everyone at the camp was issued colored index cards which dictated their role-type. There was a string to wear the card around your neck to conspicuously display it. Your card also had a type of animal printed on it, but these were purely academic. You either got green cards which designated you as a bottom level (deer, opossum, mouse, woodchuck), blue indicating mid-level (fox, hawk, dingo, etc), or red as a top predator (bear, lion, shark?). The interesting bit is that greens got 7 cards, blue 5, and red only 3 cards. We were instructed to find food and water (also cards) and basically survive the time limit. (maybe the game was called survival)
Also introduced into the game were 4 counselors (gigantic 17 year olds who could run like wolves and were tall as redwood) with black cards. They were famine, disease, drought and the hunter and would kill anything they caught, no matter the color. (Well, famine and drought would take your food and water cards, but if you didn't have any you were dead) So it went, if someone of a higher order touched you, a card was surrendered until you had no more. Once you were dead-dead you went up to the dining hall for lemonade or something.
And we were released, 200 of us, into the lower camp with an artificial class system to wage the war of nature. This is where the really interesting stuff went down. People began to form groups; greens would naturally flock together. Blues moderately so, and reds would prowl like demons. Until of course disease came sweeping through; I swear you've never seen so many 8-14 year olds scrambling through the underbrush so quickly. Like buckshot through a dried bouquet.
Those of us that cared, survived. And we were good. As the rounds went by more creativity developed. Reds began walking around in larger groups to try and fool the quicker blues and flightiest of greens. Waiting predators would poach at edges of clearings where the water cards lay. The greens would warily creep and the red's tails would flick in anticipation. But the greens stopped; for seemingly no reason. A branch snapped as the hunter came crashing towards those reds, they flee and he pursues, the greens make a gambit for the water. We spent the entire day like that. Clamoring for more every time the whistle blew. Elbows were scraped, pants ripped, ankles rolled and heads bruised. This did not stop the game. It was life and we were animals.
I liked it intensely.
1 comment:
meanwhile, the cool kids that didnt get pawned off on camp counselors were home playing Super Mario Bros and drinking Jolt Cola.
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