I bet you know the feeling, like the game is against you. You’re pulling all the wrong cards or rolling all the wrong numbers and you die. It’s like the game didn’t want you to win and you had no chance – what were you supposed to do? Maybe you were at a boss and now have to start all over again. Maybe you were about to win a tournament and didn’t. So sorry – it was just bad luck.
Argh god! It’s infuriating – at the time – especially if someone pulls the “oh bad luck” line on you as it happens. Wankers. But this notion of luck, it’s there in games and secretly – or not so secretly now I’m writing about it – I love it. I love bad luck.
It’s not that I like losing – as if! (You’ve never seen me at LaserZone – I’m embarrassingly competitive. I once went there with my son, who was about eight years old at the time. I told him we’d stick together. I promised him. “You and me, son.” But the minute we got in there, I was off, stalking the fake mist like a ghost. “Dad? Dad?!” I got the highest score that day. I gave my child something to aspire to. What?) So it’s not that I like losing, but I like the possibility of it.
