RECORD STORE TALES #1180: Games Without Frontiers

One glorious March break in the early 80s, Bob Schipper and I invented a game.  We were just kids, 10 and 12 years old.  We invented lots of games over the years, but this one was one of the most bizarre to outside observers.  If my mom happened to look out the window, she would have seen two kids running, jumping, leaping, dodging, climbing, tip-toeing and diving through the yard, seemingly around invisible objects and opponents.  I  can’t remember what this game was called (perhaps “The Maze”), but I do remember this:  we had fun.  We played it almost every day of that March break.

It started with Bob and I at the backyard picnic table, at which we brainstormed many an idea.  It was made of wood, painted brown, and starting to wear with use.  The picnic table only had a few years left, but it was like home base.  Across the picnic table were scattered sheets of paper.  On those sheets of paper were drawn detailed maps, all from our imagination.  On these maps, we depicted obstacles and enemies.  Starting at point A, one would navigate the map and its obstacles until reaching the exit, and escape.  Quicksand, poison darts, pits, fire, and water would have to be passed, each in turn, like levels of elaborate video games.  Only there were no video games, only Bob and I.  The back yard was our obstacle course, and our imaginations created the obstacles.

Once our maps had been drawn and agreed upon, we began our quest to escape…wherever it was we were pretending to be.

We climbed on top of the picnic table.

“Ready?” asked Bob.

“Ready!” I exclaimed.

“OK.  JUMP!”  We leaped off the picnic table with exaggerated movement and pretended to fall a great distance.

“You OK?” Bob asked as we got up.

“A-OK!” I confirmed.

“OK, according to the map, our next obstacle is a wall of fire dead ahead.  Let’s go!”  Off we ran until we reached whatever hedge or bush was to be our wall of fire.

“How do we get through this thing?” I asked in mock desperation.

“Well,” pondered Bob, “I think the only way through is to run!  Run as fast as we can.  Ready?”

“Ready!” I exclaimed once more.  With a start, Bob was off at a run in his track pants and jacket.  He leapt through whatever trees or bush we pretended to be our fire.  I followed suit once he was through.

On and on we went, for hours, or what seemed like hours.  We had storylines.  We made use of everything in the front and back yards, as well as garage, as we could.   And it was our own private game.  We didn’t want anyone else playing along with us.  We had ideas for future games in the coming days, and we didn’t need outside ideas or players.  It would ruin the good time we were having.  This we knew from experience.  We often made up our own games, and upon bringing in more people, found that they changed it, either by design or accident.  Bob and I were in sync, but the other kids were not.

“We can’t let George find out what we’re doing or he’ll want to join in,” I warned Bob, referring to the annoying next door neighbor.  “He can easily see us if he goes out the side door.”  Bob agreed, and so we planned a cover story if he inquired what were were up to.  It probably involved practising for track and field, and the words “fuck off”.

And so, for four days that March break, Bob and I navigated the most challenging imaginary obstacle course that nobody had ever seen.  We thought it would make a great idea for a movie or video game, if our amazing ideas could ever be properly captured.

They never were, and so we just have this story to remember it by.