Trolling With Munchkins

Recently, some friends of mine were extolling the virtues of Munchkin, and I had to open my big mouth.  I’m a laid back kind of guy, but you can troll me with ease.  Say a few confused words about comic book characters, and I’m in the zone, foaming at the mouth about the origins of Havok, and why he needed to become the leader of X-Factor.  It doesn’t matter if anyone knows what the heck I’m talking about.  People need to be educated about the finer points of The Opium Wars, yo.

So when someone on Facebook says something approximating, “We should play more board games.  I haven’t played Munchkin in forever.  Let’s drag a few people over to the house and play,”  I’m stuck.  I have one of two options: sit in my corner of the internet, playing host to my opinions, watch the clock, and wait for my opinions to decide they need to wake up in the morning, grab their coats and leave; or kick my free-loading opinions out of my brain, and dump them on a Facebook thread, annoying everyone in the process.

I’ve never heard a counter-argument for a game so eloquenty put in a single paragraph. Everyone on this thread has completely changed their opinion about this game.  You’re a true friend.

It’s not that I think Munchkin is a bad game, per se.  On the contrary, I think it does a fine job doing what it sets out to be: a fun, expendable diversion for when people want to play a low-commitment card game.  My problem starts when Munchkin is the only game that some people play.  If you don’t play a lot of board/card games, Munchkin will get you there.  Pick it up, play a few games, get sick of it, and put it back in the closet.  If you want a bit of spice, then add an expansion.  By my count, the game has 63 expansions to date—and that’s not counting the 45 or so supplemental products and memorabilia.  Cripes, why would anyone bother playing another game at that rate?  If you bought two expansions per year for the rest of your life, you could have all the game you needed.

To a game reviewer that plays one or two new games per week, this is maddening.  My virtual bread and butter is learning new games, and offering up exciting choices.  All I can see is the sheer quantity of excellent product that my friends are choosing to ignore because they really like one game.  It’s like being a culinary student and finding yourself trapped in a conversation with people who eat nothing but pizza.  Don’t get me wrong:  I love pizza.  But exclusively eating pizza is unnutritious and can should get boring over time.  Good luck telling your pizza-gobbing friends they should gob something different, though.  Pizza is awesome!

I know the comparison between Munchkin and pizza isn’t fair, especially since casual players play a game maybe once every other month, while my fictional pizza munchers snarf a pizza per meal.  A pizza every two months seems Spartan in comparison.  How could it be bad to play only one card game, if you really like that game?

Well let’s look at the game’s flaws, shall we?  Munchkin features:

♦ A luck based system for victory.  Many games are won and lost by flipping over a random card that devestates a single player, or makes them stuper-powered.  Few victories come with a sense of accomplishment so much as a sense of relief.

♦ A rules structure that encourages you to not use your cards.  While many players just play what’s fun to play, true ‘munchkins‘ (people who play games, especially roleplaying games, with the intention of winning at all costs) will find they are strongest when they use the cards in their hand infrequently, and only play cards when their character would lose to a game wiping creature, to stop another player from winning the game, or to win the game.  That means, for the majority of the game, the smartest way to play is to do nothing.

♦ Similar game play every time you play.  One reason why Munchkins has so many expansions is because it only takes three or four plays before the game repeats itself, leaving hardcore players ravenous for new material.

♦ The game actively encourages cheating.  To be honest, that’s a unique feature, since most games do not.  The problem with this encouragement, however, is far-reaching.  All the previous flaws of the game are multiplied in the process (There’s even more luck involved in winning.  You’re encouraged to play your cards more infrequently, since someone might steal them from you.  Games feel even more similar, since it devolves into a cheater’s paradise.).  Cheating also adds the stress of paranoia to your game table.  Every time a player plays a card, you must pay attention, or they’ll pull one over on you.  You must be aware of where your cards are at all times, or your opponents will sneak off with them.  And I’m pretty sure that, when someone levels up, you’re going to get into at least one argument as to whether they tossed an extra level in there.  Getting up to use the bathroom is fatal.

♦ An antagonistic rules system that encourages whining.  One of the most effective ways to win a game of Munchkin is to complain that everyone is picking on you.  Even when they aren’t.  It rarely hurts to complain, since other players don’t want to hear you whine, and will stop doing bad things to you so you’ll stop.  When everyone at the the table realizes that whining is a winning ‘strategy’, the game, which normally features high player interaction, either becomes a painful experience, or will involve no player interaction.

Mind you, many of these ‘flaws’ are also strengths.  Players like Munchkin because it encourages them to be a poor sport.  You can be a downright meanie, and your friends will still be your friends when the game’s put away for the night (hopefully).  There’s little in the way of game balance, but that encourages players to not take winning and losing seriously.  I’m not arguing that Munchkin is a bad game, because it isn’t.  After all, any game that ranks as the best selling card game of 2012, eleven years after it was first published, can’t, by definition, be a bad game.  What I’m saying is that the mere fact that the game has flaws means that it can’t be the last word on analog gaming.  There must be other games out there that cover Munchkin’s glaring design flaws, and can help provide a better rounded gaming experience.

Curses, Steve Jackson! When are you going to make ‘The Duck of Doom’ a proper game?  It’s living in sin!

And there are.  My first response to people who enjoy Munchkin was to suggest other games with a similar play-style and feel, such as Cutthroat Caverns, Red Dragon Inn, Betrayal at House on Haunted Hill and Smash-Up.  I’m sure many Munchkin players would enjoy these games, but I think I’ve been leading them down the wrong path.  I should have recommended Ticket to Ride, Carcasonne and Shadows Over Camelot.  People who play Munchkin aren’t looking for a replacement for the game they love, but they could use a game that’s easy to understand, quick to set up, and doesn’t feature the same design flaws.  They could also use a respite from Munchkin’s insanity, even if it’s just a simple pick up game of Boggle or Scategories (I’m not afraid to go old-school.  Those two games are solid.)

Mostly, though, what I really need to do is learn how not to be trolled by Munchkin.  Just because the inherent flaws with the game slap me in the face every time the subject turns to humungous funguses, doesn’t mean I have to slap back.  It’s like kicking a child who kicked you in the shins.  It might seem fair to you, but the child’s parents will have a different opinion on the matter.  People who love Munchkin love it despite and because of its flaws.  Arguing the flaws of the game make Munchkin unfun is a waste of time, since that’s not why people play that game.  The only thing you can hope to achieve is for people to only get a little insulted.  Besides, people who love Munchkin generally tend to be great people.  They have to be to put up with that game.

Who’s the troll now, bitches?