When is it appropriate for two men to stalk, chase and catch dozens of other people hiding in the woods after dark?
When they’ve all signed up to play a sophisticated game of hide-and-seek.
Last night at the eye-catching and enigmatic A-frame cabin near Second Beach, Germaine Koh gathered two other play-making organizations, Manhunt Vancouver and the Urban Animal Agency, together for her monthly fun-and-gaming playdate called League. (I first wrote about League two years ago. Koh calls it “problem-solving as play.”) In different but complimentary ways of artistic expression, ecological inspiration and social commentary, these three groups reconsider urban spaces for entertainment and mental exercise.
Last night’s games were billed “Predator-Prey” and this is why, after sunset in Stanley Park, I was crouched in the shadow of a stone wall, prepared to dash through bushes to avoid capture.
Flight and fight are good options (plus they rhyme) but never forget freeze (because it buys you time).
League is brilliant because the game’s participants decide what they will play. Koh provides the general outline, and the group works out the specifics. Predator-Prey went down a lot like this. Before the first round, we staked out the boundary — playground was in, parking lot and public washrooms were out — and ruled everyone needed to wear a light and keep it illuminated. I had a bright headlamp, others had bike lights, hand-held flashlights and one teenage girl had a very dim (smartly deceptive, but was it cheating — you decide) orange glowstick tied to her shoe.
We set the clock for 25 minutes, and the two hunters counted to 100 as the rest of us prey scampered. It was almost impossible to hide in the dark with our lights illuminating the space around us. I couldn’t see anyone else, but could see their halogen halos shining into the night above them. When they climbed stairs, the light bobbed stiffly. Whey they slid down a slide, it dropped smoothly to the ground. When one was chased by three converging hunters, it was an accelerated scene from the Walking Dead. When a disembodied light approached my hiding place, the panic rose in me like water boils in a kettle. My series of cubby holes couldn’t protect me and I ran for it. (Later, when I was the predator, a fleet-footed prey easily outran me by putting obstacles between us. And by being really damn fast.) I dashed around a cedar tree to avoid two hunters and jumped a low fence but couldn’t keep up the pace when my rubber boots skidded in the soft grass. Down I went, tearing my jeans and smearing myself with mud. Caught.
For the second game, we made a few variations. Now, what comes next is a small criticism. In a consensus-building exercise like this, every person has a voice and all of them should be heard. That’s part of the exercise. The game is fantastically, celebratorily democratic. If that fails, it’s like we’re back in the boardroom with its uneven power structures.
I suggested prey be allowed to turn off their lights as long as they remain still. I suggested it again and put out to the group that, for a specific amount of time, prey could disappear into the dark. When they must move again, the light goes on. This tells the predator a couple of things and can make for more careful strategy than outrunning a dumbly dressed, rubber-booted predator.
The conversation moved on as more complex and imaginative ideas were put forward from young women with Aussie accents, adults, a mother who came with her family, and from the members of the host organizations. The group decided all caught prey needed to howl its death throes. Should there be call-and-answer component like in Marco Polo. The group decided no.
Then another person suggested all prey be able to shut off their lights. At the moment they stand still. For a limited amount of time.
Sounded familiar to me.
Everyone got excited and agreed it was a great suggestion. We were going to use my idea.
The change made for a more strategic, more difficult and longer game. No more were the prey outed by a spot of light. We hid ourselves more effectively, often right in front of the predators. One clever soul moved minimally — only a few steps — before shutting off his light again. He was one of the last to be caught if he was at all.
I made a terrible calculation and was caught almost immediately. (I followed bad advice to “hide” in plain sight. Like, really really really literally plain sight.) I fell in the mud again, this time slipping in pursuit of prey who got away from me until three of us cornered him.
The game was physically demanding and made my heart pound harder than any hill climb. Primordial fear will do that. I didn’t want to lose, so the mental aspect of the game was equally important and demanding. Play smart and you don’t have to run. Run fast and you can return to playing smart.
The next League event hasn’t been announced but you can read more here and follow Koh on twitter @LeagueVan.
Manhunt is on MeetUp, and the Urban Animal Agency is online here. Go have fun with your city.
