| Arrived: 15:10 |
![[Photo by Wesley Chan: The big wall chart]](27_10_6977014_the_wall.jpg)
Wesley's photo shows a big wall chart showing when teams had solved clues.
![[Photo by Wesley Chan: Looking at the big wall chart]](27_10_6977013_look_at_wall.jpg)
Wesley's photo shows people looking at the big wall chart.
![[Photo by Wesley Chan: table of gadgets]](27_9_6977009_gadget_table.jpg)
Wesley's photo shows a table laden with gadgets in various states of construction. If I'd been awake enough to understand this table, I would have understood more about how some of the interesting game objects worked.
![[Photo by Wesley Chan: Game Control hint line dude]](27_10_6977033_game_control.jpg)
Wesley's photo shows someone from Game Control talking on the phone, probably acting as the hint line. He looks tired, doesn't he?
The drive to the finish-line party in Sunnyvale seemed longer than the others we'd had in the area. There was some speculation in the van: was Game Control skipping us past some clues? (Yes, they were.) My body told me that skipping clues was wonderful. Anything that brought sleep closer was wonderful.
The finish line was at a community center-ish building in a park. It took us a while to find a parking spot in the surrounding residential neighborhood. As we parked, the Crimson Crusaders, a team from New York City, was parking on the same side street.
We walked to the finish line, with a recorded finish time of 15:32. Many players stumbled around the place. It might have been a fun place to chat, but I was busy shambling around like a zombie. I grabbed some carrot sticks, a bottle of water, stuck an ice cube under my hat, and tried to take in the scene.
There was a table of skipped clues. Game Control had skipped many teams over a few clues. They had put in some "extra" clues to slow down teams that sped too far ahead. At this table, teams could pick up some of the clues they had skipped. Here I grabbed a Radioactive Man frisbee and a data CD containing a music-video puzzle based on the All Your Base phenomenon.
There were disassembled DRUIDs; a huge poster which Game Control had used to track each team's progress; printouts from a Wiki with Game Control's description of the puzzle; a map of the bay area with the game's route snaking around; Game Control volunteers taking in some much-deserved kudoes. I realized that I felt pretty bad.
Alexandra got some recruits to help her chain up the Crimson Crusader's car. A few years before, during another game's pre-game, she had received a pre-game clue and solved it--and figured out that she needed to bring a bowling ball to the game start. But that pre-game clue had not come from Game Control; it was a forgery, a prank from another team--the Crimson Crusaders. So Alexandra had lugged a bowling ball to that game for nothing. Now she wanted revenge. So, while the Crimson Crusaders partied, Alexandra gently rested a bowling ball on their windshield.
I did not take part in the revenge plot; I was busy shambling around the after-party like a zombie. I stumbled outside into the fresh air. Half of Team Mystic Fish was already out there, chatting. I looked around at the park. Families frolicked there, people sitting back and relaxing. I leaned back and remembered what it was like to relax.
Alexandra was back. We chatted about plans for future games. Maybe instead of a van, we should try playing in a stretch limo. It would not be so maneuverable, but we would look very stylish. The ideas got sillier from there.
The Crimson Crusaders took their leave. And a few minutes, they returned--to get the combination to Alexandra's lock and to hug her and thank her for placing the bowling ball in such a way that it did not scratch their paint job. And then they were really gone.
And soon Team Mystic Fish was gone, back in our van, heading North. We were still talking about fun ideas for future games. I felt so bad, so beat up. I had bruises all over from moving around in a van in motion. I was starving, though I did not know it. Why am I talking about doing this again? I wondered, Why would I ever put myself through this again?
After the game, I told the team "That was great, but never again." And yet, as I write this report, I think I would like to play again after all. When I think about the glimpses I get of other teams, I think it would be a fun project to play as a sort of hitchhiker, joining a different team every game and writing about their different styles. When I remember (having caught up on my sleep deficit) the chicken wire, the bat blinker, the copper tubing, I think I would like to play again; those great puzzles made momentary discomfort worth it; and in the future, I could start the game my writing "REMEMBER TO EAT" on the back of my hand in permanent marker.
Dwight dropped me off at my apartment on his way back to Sacramento. Dwight said "You know, the first time I played the Game, I swore off of it--for a couple of years. But then I got back into it." I think about a group of people in a van close to the shore of East Palo Alto, looking at a deck of marked cards like a book full of possibilities. Of course I wanted back in.
