LJ IDOL WEEK 5 - BEARING FALSE WITNESS
I turned over the top card on the pile. Orange. I dragged my red game piece along the board to the nearest orange square, keeping me about ten spaces behind my competitor.
As I looked over at my 5 year old cousin, a fierce Candy Land contestant, I could see the grin on his face as he rushed to take his turn. Turning over his card, he moved his game piece just two spaces to the nearest blue square.
The game was carrying along smoothly. A few more turns and I was closing the distance between us. Orange, blue, red, green. Double Green. The battle continued.
The rules of Candy Land seem simple enough. Draw a card and move your game piece to the next closest square of that color. Draw a card with two blocks, and you get to move to the second nearest square of that color. Draw a location card, and you gain the chance of either moving far ahead of your competitors, or getting stuck falling behind.
Now, there are shortcuts that let you sneak ahead a few spaces, as well as penalty spaces that keep you from moving at all. But as much as traversing through the Gooey Gumdrops, Lollipop Woods, and Molasses Swamp kept me on my guard, I was unprepared for the slick moves of my youngest cousin.
When my next turn moved me just two spaces behind his blue Gingerbread Man, I was told that the deck suddenly needed to be reshuffled, with a double green magically falling on top. Despite questioning this new 'rule', as well as his dodgy shuffling methods, I was no match for taking on his knowledge of the game.
Back with a solid lead, my cousin returned to normal game play. But as I pulled the "Queen Frostine" card, my Gingerbread man slid quickly into the second half the the game board, and several spaces ahead of my young competitor. Just as suddenly as before, the rules of the game seemed to change.
I had apparently been unaware of a new shortcut in the game. A shortcut that brought the little blond boy's game piece back ahead of mine. Again, I glared at my opponent and questioned his move. Claiming I couldn't actually see this supposed shortcut, I was told it was 'invisible.' I backed off my claims of foul play and let the game continue.
The only way to win the game, once a player nears the end, is to draw a purple card to land on the last space on the board. As my competitor approached the end, his repeated attempts to turn over a purple card proved unsuccessful. I slowly slid along behind him, weaving through the Molasses Swamp towards the coveted Candy Castle. As the boy sat just two spaces behind that last space, I dragged my piece just one spot behind him.
And magically, as seems to happen in the game of Candy Land, the rules changed again. I was told I only get four cards to draw from each turn, while he gets several more. After four turns, I quickly noticed I had no purple cards at all. With concerns about the proper rules of the game, I questioned him on how I was to get to the finish. All I got back was a unknowing look on his face and a shrug of his shoulders. Repeated questioning drew the same simple response.
As my competitor overturned a purple card on his next turn, and dragged his Gingerbread Man across the finish line, I admitted defeat. It had been nearly twenty years since I had played this little game called Candy Land, and I was not about to go against a seasoned player on the exact rules of the game. I'm just still not quite sure why I never won a single game.
As I looked over at my 5 year old cousin, a fierce Candy Land contestant, I could see the grin on his face as he rushed to take his turn. Turning over his card, he moved his game piece just two spaces to the nearest blue square.
The game was carrying along smoothly. A few more turns and I was closing the distance between us. Orange, blue, red, green. Double Green. The battle continued.
The rules of Candy Land seem simple enough. Draw a card and move your game piece to the next closest square of that color. Draw a card with two blocks, and you get to move to the second nearest square of that color. Draw a location card, and you gain the chance of either moving far ahead of your competitors, or getting stuck falling behind.
Now, there are shortcuts that let you sneak ahead a few spaces, as well as penalty spaces that keep you from moving at all. But as much as traversing through the Gooey Gumdrops, Lollipop Woods, and Molasses Swamp kept me on my guard, I was unprepared for the slick moves of my youngest cousin.
When my next turn moved me just two spaces behind his blue Gingerbread Man, I was told that the deck suddenly needed to be reshuffled, with a double green magically falling on top. Despite questioning this new 'rule', as well as his dodgy shuffling methods, I was no match for taking on his knowledge of the game.
Back with a solid lead, my cousin returned to normal game play. But as I pulled the "Queen Frostine" card, my Gingerbread man slid quickly into the second half the the game board, and several spaces ahead of my young competitor. Just as suddenly as before, the rules of the game seemed to change.
I had apparently been unaware of a new shortcut in the game. A shortcut that brought the little blond boy's game piece back ahead of mine. Again, I glared at my opponent and questioned his move. Claiming I couldn't actually see this supposed shortcut, I was told it was 'invisible.' I backed off my claims of foul play and let the game continue.
The only way to win the game, once a player nears the end, is to draw a purple card to land on the last space on the board. As my competitor approached the end, his repeated attempts to turn over a purple card proved unsuccessful. I slowly slid along behind him, weaving through the Molasses Swamp towards the coveted Candy Castle. As the boy sat just two spaces behind that last space, I dragged my piece just one spot behind him.
And magically, as seems to happen in the game of Candy Land, the rules changed again. I was told I only get four cards to draw from each turn, while he gets several more. After four turns, I quickly noticed I had no purple cards at all. With concerns about the proper rules of the game, I questioned him on how I was to get to the finish. All I got back was a unknowing look on his face and a shrug of his shoulders. Repeated questioning drew the same simple response.
As my competitor overturned a purple card on his next turn, and dragged his Gingerbread Man across the finish line, I admitted defeat. It had been nearly twenty years since I had played this little game called Candy Land, and I was not about to go against a seasoned player on the exact rules of the game. I'm just still not quite sure why I never won a single game.