Quarto

Quarto will remind you of Tic Tac Toe, until you actually play it. Like Tic Tac Toe, you're trying to get all your pieces in a row. And that's about it, Tic Tac Toe-wise.

There are 16 pieces. Eight blond pieces and eight dark pieces. But if you look a little closer, you'll notice that each piece is different. Nobody's a "color." Each has an attribute (size, color, shape, hollowness) that it shares with three other pieces. So your tall square blond solid piece is like the tall round dark piece that has a hole in it, because they are tall.

Your object is to add the piece that completes a row, column or diagonal of 4 pieces, all of which have the same attribute. Not necessarily all blond pieces or all short pieces, and certainly not all "your" pieces. Maybe all round pieces or all solid pieces. Or all pieces with a hole.

So things are not, as they say, merely black or white. To win, you have to continually change what attribute your looking for. Much more like life, strategically-speaking.

And then there's one more intriguingly life-like rule you should know about: You decide what piece your opponent will play next. Really. That's what you do. When your turn is over, you hand the piece of your choice to your opponent. And now that we're speaking about strategy, suddenly everything becomes much more subtle, even more interesting. Because you're trying everso hard to give your opponent the very piece she really wouldn't want. A piece, in fact, that might very well be the one piece that will make you win.

It's a unique concept in the world of strategy games - and uniquely welcome. Because you have to think even more closely about what your opponent might be thinking.

The designer, Blaise Müller, suggests a variation for those who need yet more strategic depth. How about counting 4-in-a-square as well as 4-in-a-row? Ah, how subtle. How challenging. Which makes you wonder about 4-in-an-L, or 4-in-a-zig-zag, even.

In other words, Quarto, like the majority of games in the Gigamic line, has just about all the elements that make a game Major FUN. It takes maybe 5 minutes to learn and maybe 5 minutes to play, and yet it's deep enough to be worth playing over and over. It's as easy to learn as it is because it's based on something familiar. It's as intriguing as it is, because it offers something unique. It's elemental enough to be easily modified to increase or decrease the challenge. It's made of wood. It's durable. It even has a drawstring bag to house the pieces. And, for a modest mailing fee, Fundex will replace any lost piece.

Reb Zalman

I met Zalman more than 30 years ago. We have been friends ever since that first meeting. Deep friends. Sharing with each other our most profound insights, and our equally profound laughter.

Of all the people I've known who have had a positive influence on religion - any religion - Reb Zalman has been one of very few who has been a voice for playfulness as much as a voice for spirituality. With Zalman, there really is no difference. His playfulness has helped thousands of people to reclaim their spirituality, renew their connection with religion, and redefine both. He has gone far beyond Judaism, making connections between spiritual disciplines of every religion he can touch. And his touch is as light as it is enlightening. He brings love and laughter to all those who hear him. When he leads people in prayer, he also leads them in dance and song and an ever-deepening joy.

It is not an easy path he has chosen for himself. Zalman is widely known as a champion of silliness. Religious people tend to take things very seriously. So, for many, he is seen as a threat. Virtually unsupported by the establishment, he has found his own support. His laughter draws followers. His faith sustains them. His playfulness heals them. Instead of denying the forces that have denied him, he affirms those very traditions, and goes at least one step further. He embraces the best in all traditions, he celebrates the deep fun of each, and the deeper delight that exists between them.

Zalman Schachter-Shalomi, Defender of the Playful.

Gobblet Gobblers - cute and challenging

Do not be misled by cuteness or the obvious similarity to tic tac toe, Gobblet Gobblers is an abstract game worthy of serious strategic contemplation.

No, it's not chess. It's not even checkers. But it's not like any tic tac toe game you've ever played, unless you've already played the Major FUN Award-winning Gobblet Jr.

Repackaged and revisioned, Gobblet Gobblers plays the same as Gobblet Jr., but introduces a new level of whimsy and fantasy that invites children to view the often serious challenge of abstract reasoning with a light and playful heart.

Players build the board out of four, brightly colored wood pieces. Using these pieces, instead of a solid board, gives the game a friendlier feeling - integrating the game a bit more with its environment (kitchen table, play table, carpet, floor). The pieces all have little felt feather-like things sticking out of their "heads," adding to the whimsy and offering a practical and compelling way to lift and move the pieces from place to place. There are two different color pieces - blue and orange (oddly, but probably not coincidentally reprising the name of the publisher). Both players get six pieces - two sets of three nesting cylinders.

The game plays like tic tac toe (the object being to get three of your color pieces in a horizontal, vertical or diagonal row), but, unlike the traditional game, in Gobblet Gobblers you can move your pieces once they are placed, and, if your piece is larger than another, you can temporarily "gobble" it by placing your piece on top. Being able to move pieces is departure enough to make Gobblet Gobblers something more than your paper-and-pencil version of tic tac toe. But being able to cover a smaller piece takes the game to a new level of strategic complexity - new enough for it to become a unique invitation to abstract thinking - unique enough to invite serious attention from adults as well as children. And there's that added component of having to remember what gets covered. And the subsequent, sometimes delightfully agonizing experience of losing the game because of what lies beneath.

Designed by Thierry Denoual, who designed all of the current Gobblet variations, Gobblet Gobbler, with its humorous design (and lower price), is Major FUN, at least - especially for kids who have already mastered the traditional versions of tic tac toe, and even more especially for their parents.

Yamslam - like Yahtzee, but not Yahtzee at all

No, it's not Yahtzee. On the other hand, yes, it's a lot like Yahtzee. You roll five dice. You get three rolls during which you can re-roll all or any of the dice. You want to get maybe two pairs, or even better, three-of-a-kind, or better yet a small straight, and then there's a flush, which you can't get in that other game, which is better yet, and then there's a full house, and four-of-a-kind, or even better a full house, and your large straight, and, of course, your all-dice-of-the-same-number Yamslam, which makes you yell "Yamslam," take any chip you want, and an extra turn. And what all of this Yahtzee-likeness does is make Yamslam easier to learn. But, no, it's not Yahtzee.

There are chips, for example, which you don't get in that other game - four for each of the possible winning combinations. Each chip is worth more points, depending on probabilities. When you succeed, you collect a chip, making scoring for that particular combination one chip less likely. When there are no chips, that combination can no longer score. Then there's the possibility that you might gather one or more of each of the seven kinds of chip, for which you score more points, or that you might get six out of the seven, or all of a particular kind of chip, or take the last remaining chip - in which case you score yet more.

And then there's the "flush" possibility. The odd numbers on the dice are one color, the even another. You score a flush (if you want it) when all the dice are the same color.

Put all these together and you have something that is clearly not Yahtzee. Fewer combinations, a faster game, more possibilities for scoring, all stored in a metal tin that contains the game with efficiency and grace. Place the chips in their well-marked holders, leave the dice on the pleasingly-cushioned felt-lined bottom, close the lid, and no matter how hard you shake the set, everything stays in place. Forget the rules? All the score possibilities are conveniently described on the perimeter of the box.

Designed by Thierry Denoual (who also designed the Gobblet games), Yamslam is a gift of light-hearted, undemanding fun for anyone in the family who is old enough to add. And then there are variations to try, including at least one for those times when you just need to be by yourself.

Yahtzee? Most definitely not. Fun? Majorly!

Stixx

Stixx is a strategy game. It's lovely to look at. Easy to understand. And yet, surprisingly subtle.

There are six different colors of Stixx (the game pieces). There are seven of each. To set up the game, players place the Stixx randomly (trying to keep the colors as far apart as possible) in the 42 grooves around the board. There's an extra Stixx. It's gray. It's used as a marker, replacing the Stixx that has just been collected, and indicating which Stixx are now collectable (those that are adjacent to either point of the marker).

Before the game begins, each player draws from a collection of six "hidden color tokens." This identifies the color of the Stixx the players are trying to collect. The object is to collect more of your Stixx than anybody has been able to collect of theirs.

There are many levels contemplation-worthy strategic complexities. Whenever you pick up a Stixx you determine which Stixx the next player can select from. If you're ahead, and you can isolate the grey Stixx so it's not touching any pieces, the game is over, and you win. If you try to collect too many Stixx of your color, your opponents will be able to guess what color you're trying to collect, and either keep you from collecting more, or take those colored Stixx themselves, just for spite.

Having to keep your goal secret while trying keep others from achieving theirs is an aspect of the game that adds greatly to the depth and humor of it all. If it gets too much for you, you can guess someone's color - forcing them to reveal it to everyone and, if you're correct, winning you two extra moves. If the possibility of taking those two extra moves becomes strategically attractive to you, and no one has yet guessed your color, you can reveal your secret color.

 Stixx is easy enough to understand, and has a short enough playing-time, to meet the attention span of your average, gifted seven-year-old. It's also deep and intriguing enough to engage the serious-minded adult. And it often makes you laugh. Which is another way of saying Stixx is Major FUN.

Designed by Odet L' Homer and published by Goliath Games, Stixx can be played by two to six players, and, as good as it is, it seems to be just as good (if not better) when more than two want to play. Stixx is nicely packaged, very easy to store. It has a lot of colorful, irreplaceable plastic parts - 49 of them. But rest easy, wise Stixx-owner, Goliath will replace your losses for free.

Chicken Cha Cha Cha

Chicken Cha Cha Cha is kids' game that is even more fun as a family game and at least as fun at a grown-up games party.

Short-term memory is an important aspect of this game. Which is part of what makes it such a good family game. Considering whose memory is shorter term, it's very likely that they'll have at least as good a chance at winning as you.

The real fun of the game, however, comes from chasing each other around a board of thick, cardboard, egg-shape tiles. There are four wooden chickens (two are supposed to be roosters, but that's where the game begins to get abstract). Each of these chickens have appropriately located places where one can put tail feathers - wooden sticks topped by egg-shaped balls, each corresponding to a chicken color.

Then there are the thick, cardboard, octagonal tiles which are placed face-down, and surrounded by the egg track. The images on these tiles correspond to images on the eggs.

You place your wooden chicken with its one wooden tail feather anywhere on the egg track. When it's your turn, you first have to find the octagonal tile that matches the egg tile in front of your chicken. If you are correct, you move your chicken to that tile, and go again, trying to guess which octagon matches the egg tile that is now in front of you. You can play in teams, even - which makes it more fun, and more likely that your collective recollection might be good enough to find which octagon matches which egg tile.

If you get immediately behind someone else's chicken, and it's still your turn, you can, if you can identify the octagon tile that matches the egg tile that is in front of the opponent's chicken, jump over that chicken, and get his or her proverbial tail feather.

The first chicken with all four tail feathers wins.

Chicken chasing is great fun. It's as fun as playing tag or duck-duck-goose. And, as the game progresses, you remember (especially if you're young enough) more and more of the octagonal tiles, so you can run (or, as the game designers would want you to think of it, "cha cha") further and further. So the chase speeds up. And the tension increases. And sometimes you get so excited you forget where anything is. And sometimes you remember everything. And then you win.

Designed by Klaus Zoch, and graced by the endearing art of Doris Matthäus, Chicken Cha Cha Cha is a remarkably versatile, and engaging game, for a surprisingly wide range of ages. It's one of a relatively few games that kids can play as well as their parents can, that appeals to teens as much as pre-schoolers, that could find as much welcome in a games party for grown-ups as with the kids in the family room on a rainy afternoon.

Because the game is so elegant (there are really very rules) and so easily learned, it is also easily varied. If the game is too hard for some players, you can turn all the tiles over periodically for review. If it takes too long, you can have the chickens cha cha in opposite directions so they encounter each other more frequently. Since you make the board, you can always make it smaller, eliminating some eggs and their corresponding octagons as needed. You can even, if you're playing with people of my memory strengths, you might also consider increasing the number of guesses a player can make when octagon-hunting.

Chicken Cha Cha Cha - available in the US from Rio Grande Games. Not complex. Not profound. Most definitely Major FUN.

Gulo Golo

First of all, just saying "Gulo Gulo" is fun. Especially if you're a kid. In addition, there are the six little, kid-appealing, bear-like playing pieces. And the funny illustrations on the 23 thick, octagonal tiles you use to make the board. And the 22 colorful (five colors) wooden eggs with the wooden bowl you put the eggs into and the wacky "alarm pole" that you stick into the egg pile. And the velvet drawstring for eggs and bowl storage. All in all, everything looking like fun.

Then there's getting the game ready, which is also kind of fun. There's no board. Instead, you make a track out of all those lovely octagons (first you have to find the Gulo Junior tile, and set it aside). This is also kind of fun because there are at least four different edges you can use in connecting the octagons. And you put them face down, which makes you wonder what color they'll be when you turn them over. And just before you finish the track, you take the last four tiles, add the Gulo Junior tile, shuffle them, and place them face down as the last space on the track leading up to the wooden bowl nest. And either now or sometime before, you also put all the eggs into the nest, and stick the alarm pole deep into the eggs so it's as close to standing straight up as you can make it (this itself is challenging, and especially fun in retrospect).

Then there's the game. You start at one end of the track (the stack of 5 track pieces and the nest are at the other end). You turn over the first tile. That tile has a color. You "steal" the egg of the same color from the nest. Did you set off the egg alarm (make the pole fall)? No? Good. Now you can move your Gulo on to that tile. The next player can either steal an egg of the same color, or turn over the next tile, and try to steal the egg of that color. As the game continues, the players who are still closest to the start have the most choices - since they can move to any tile that has already been turned over and is the same color as the tile they are already on. Some of the eggs are smaller. They are harder to remove (especially for those of us who are fat-of-finger). Some of the eggs are larger. They are easier to remove, but also are more likely to cause the pole to fall. The player who reaches the last tile without triggering the egg alarm draws tiles from the tile pile. If she draws any tile but the Gulo Junior, she has to remove another egg. If she manages to free the Gulo Junior, she has to steal the purple egg. And if she manages to do that, without, and the alarm pole is still in the nest, she wins.

Recall the observation about the fat-of-finger. Compare the finger width of a 5-year-old to that of a 30-year-old. That explains why Gulo Gulo is such an excellent family game - it is one of the few children's games in which adults are actually at a disadvantage - just enough of a disadvantage to make playing with a 5-year-old a meaningful challenge.

Brought to the US by Rio Grande Games, Gulo Gulo was designed by Hans Raggan, Jürgen P. Grunau and Wolfgang Kramer (with noteworthy art by Victor Boden). Gulo Gulo has lasting play value, especially for families with children between the ages of 3 and 7. The design keeps everyone involved. Because of the increasing number of tiles that get exposed during the game, players who are behind have a good chance to leap forward, while players who are furthest ahead and set off the egg alarm have to move all the way back to the nearest tile of the same color. The game is easy enough to learn, at least to start. And the rest of the rules become clearer as the game progresses. And if not, don't worry. The mechanics of the game are fun enough and strong enough to keep the game fun, even if you don't use all of the rules. And if the game still proves too challenging, there's a set of easier rules for younger children. And for those adults who are terminally thick of finger, consider asking your kids for help.

Crazy Old Fish War is crazy fun in an old fish war kind of way

You know those card games kids play, like Crazy Eights, and Old Maid and Go Fish and War? Remember how much fun they were? And how they kind of stopped being so much fun after a while, and you kind of stopped playing them? So, let me ask you, do you think you might find those games fun again if you combined all of them, yes, all of them together into one?

So let me tell you about a new card game from Hasbro, called, oddly enough - and I do mean oddly, Crazy Old Fish War. You get this special deck of cards - 58 of them. They all look, well, fishy. You get your funny goldfishy-looking cards which are one color, and your funny blowfish-looking cards which are all another color, and your funny sawfish which are yet another color, and your kind of almost scary lantern fish-like looking, yet other-colored cards, and your crazy octopus-looking cards which all the same color and, appropriately octopus-like, are "8"s. Most of them (55) are numbered. Three are not numbered at all. They are mermaids. Not old mermaids. But, nonetheless, maids, of the mer-variety.

You deal seven cards out to everybody (up to six players) and put the rest face-down in a pile. Then you turn over the top card, and the next player, Crazy Eight-style, plays a card that matches either the color or the number of the card just played. And so forth and so on, until a player doesn't have a match, at which time that player may play the eight-tentacled Crazy Octopus card, which looks and is wild, and can, also Octopus-like, be any color. Or the player can choose to Go Fishing, hoping to find a match in someone else's hand, or the player can declare a War against any other War-like player. Should that other player have a higher card, or an Old Mermaid, she wins the war. If need is dire enough, and it's your turn to lead, and you don't have a match, and you don't want to declare a War or Go Fishing, you can play an Old Mermaid, who, as we know, is also wild, but who makes the player have to pick up five more cards.

All of which results in a new, yet hauntingly familiar game, that oft-times leads kids who are old enough to have grown bored with War to engage in long, friendly bouts of rule clarification, and more oft-times into longer bouts of laughter.

Quoridor - an elegant game of strategic wall-building

The rules for Quoridor are a paragraph long. You can understand everything you need to play the game in just a few minutes of watching someone play. The whole game takes five, maybe ten minutes. And yet it's completely absorbing, deeply challenging, often surprising, uniquely compelling.

The game is played on a 9x9 grid. Deep channels separate the squares. These channels are deep enough to hold a "wall" - a thin wooden rectangle wide enough to span the border of two squares. Each player has a wooden pawn. The object of the game is to be the first player to advance her pawn to the opposite side of the board. Each player, in the two-player version, also gets ten walls. On your turn you can either move your pawn one square horizontally or vertically, or you can add a wall. These two choices seem remarkably familiar, elegantly embodying a fundamental political dynamic: to advance our own cause, or to prevent the opposition from advancing. The result of this debate is the creation of an evermore complex maze, again depicting something remarkably familiar to anyone engaged in political discourse. Republicans, democrats, lovers, parents, children.

As Rob Solow reports, Quoridor is such an elegant game that it can be easily played (with some minor modifications) with a 5-year-old. And that is another important thing to note about Quoridor - because it is so easy to understand, because it's components are so few and so functional, it is also easy to modify. Like tic tac toe, Quoridor invites you to come up with new ways to play. Rob talks about giving the weaker player more walls. Since you can play several games in a half-hour, it is easy to create a handicapping system where the losing player gets two more fences for the next round.

Quoridor comes with four different-color pawns. In the four-player version, each player gets five wall pieces, and the pawns start out in the center of the board rather than on the opposite ends. This points to yet another variable - the starting position of the pawns. Then there's the rule for what happens when two pawns meet. In the standard rules, they get to jump over each other. But that, clearly, is only the beginning. And one can't help but gleefully contemplate the implications of a two-player version with four pawns.

Quoridor exemplifies the kind of thinking game that prompted the creation of the Major FUN award. It can be intensely competitive, but its elegance and brevity make playing the game itself fun, no matter who wins.

Designed by Mirko Marchesi, Quoridor is another beautifully rendered wooden game from Gigamic, available in the US through the wise auspices of Fundex Games.

The Big Bilibo - better than the box it came in

Bilibo is a toy. A large, colorful toy. With no moving parts, unless you count the children who play with it. Like any toy, it is designed for a certain kind of child with equally certain kinds of parents - creative, imaginative, active children, whose parents understand and support unstructured, unpredictable, non-directed play.

The Bilibo is the mother of the Bilibo Game Box - the very Bilibo Game Box glowingly reviewed here just last month. For children between the ages of 18 mos and 8 years, the Bilibo is something to sit in or on, to rock or twirl or scoot in, to stand on, to wear. It is a water toy and a sand toy and a family room toy. It is a toy for storing other toys in.

Just what this toy means to kids depends on the adult as much as the child. The way you play with your child, the expectations you have, the limits you impose, the other toys you have out for play... all impact the way your child experiences the Bilibo, and you experience your child. Alex Hochstrasser, the inventor of what has become the Bilibo system, comments: "...most children have fun with Bilibo anyways, because that's how they play. They learn much more when they explore and discover things by themselves...I wanted to create a toy that was not gender or age specific but rather grows with the kids and, depending on age and interests, can be used in ever new ways. The closest I had as a role model was probably the card board box."

But it is also true that if adults are present, they influence the child's play, overtly or covertly. Parents need to be careful of their expectations. Even the most gifted children might not immediately take to the Bilibo. They need time with it. Time to explore or not. To kick it around, sit on it, or ignore it. Its presence in their play environment, like the presence of an empty cardboard box, will, in time beckon to them.

The best influence you can have, especially with a toy like Bilibo, is in your willingness to let the child discover and define the toy for herself. For example, from the persepective of a physical therapist who has obviously allowed the child undirected access to the toy, it becomes a multi-purpose tool. The therapist writes:

"I thought I would tell you how much one child I work with enjoys the Bilibo toy. He is 5 and totally blind. He spins quite fast around in it on a hard surface floor. He is able to catch himself with his arms what ever direction he tips over which is helping him with upper body development and balance skills.

"It also cradles small/multi involved children with low tone, very nicely encouraging them in bringing their hands to midline. When a large enough child is in there (and I am supporting the Bilibo not to roll about), rather than arms/hands flopping about at the sides, the arms end up more in the middle of the body, to hold a toy. Of course with experience many of these kids like a bit of gentle rocking to and fro as well."

Alex adds: " the stimulation of the child's vestibular system by spinning and balancing in the shells would be an interesting area where Bilibo shines. (The vestibular and proprioceptive systems play a key role in the development of the brain and reading and writing skills in particular.)"

If you already have the Bilibo Game Box, the big Bilibo makes an ideal expansion component, and vice versa. It's almost a given that children will weave family fantasies around the relationship between the big Bilibo and mini-Bilibos. Then there are the profound discoveries to be made about mini-Bilibo-spinning inside a big-spinning-Bilibo, spinning, perhaps, in a different direction. And what about the Bilibo Pixel? Does it roll and bounce and do even more fun things when it's inside a big, spinning Bilibo?

And if you can afford more than one (child or Bilibo), there's yet other orders of magnitude of games and fantasies, probability and physics, social and biodynamics to explore.

For kids (or parents) who don't yet have a Bilibo, there's an ample collection of inspirational clips on YouTube. On the other had, once your kids start playing with their Bilibo collection, they'll have all the inspiration you need. If you're good, maybe they'll let you play, too.

Tylz engages your spatial, perceptual and strategic skills - and it's fun, too

Tylz, as a passerby noted, looks like some kind of Scrabble® game played with colors instead of letters. There are racks to hold your tiles and a large, lovely, unfolding board, with special double-scoring squares marked with stars, even.

But, my friends, Scrabble it is most definitely not. You could compare it to dominoes, if your dominoes had colors instead of numbers, and were made of three instead of two squares, and were all L-shaped.

It turns out that Tylz is a unique board game combining strategic, perceptual and spatial skills with a welcome balance of fun-inducing luck. One to four players (yes, there is a solitaire version) score points by laying down tiles whose edges match in color to at least one of a growing configuration of tiles, or to a space on the board. The more edges matched, the more points you get. And, if you match more three or more edges, you get an extra turn.

Tylz pieces are magnetic, and adhere lovingly to the large board. The game comes with 80 tiles, no two of which are alike. Well, they are all the same shape (an "L" made of three contiguous squares), but every tile has a unique combination of colored squares. This makes you want to consider the strategic implications of each of the three tiles on your rack. Should you play your all blue (or black or red or yellow or green) piece or hold on to it? Should you throw all your tiles back into the pot, and replenish your hand with three new, and hopefully more playable tiles?

And then there are those profoundly moving moments when you approach something close to an ecstasy of scoring - matching three edges, picking a new tiles, getting another turn, matching three more, picking another new tiles, getting another turn, and, what, matching four?!

Designed by Andy and Elliot Daniel and published by their own company, Enginuity Games, Tylz is Major FUN - fascinating, flexible, adaptable. The rules are brief and easy to learn. There are rules for a shorter game, rules for a more challenging game - and suggestions for modifying them so that younger and older players can all be fairly and fully engaged. And there's even a solitaire version.

The colors are so vivid, the shapes so interesting, the board so large and attractively magnetic that the game can be enjoyed by children as young as 5 and adults who are even older than I am.

Jumbulaya - a severely challenging strategic word game

If I wanted to explain the concept of "excruciating fun" to a word game player, I would start with Jumbulaya.

You get 100 letter tiles, which are played onto a 9x10 matrix. Some of the letter tiles contain two-letter combinations (QU, CH, ED, ER, LY, ST, TH). Each row in the matrix is for another word. To start the game, the three center columns are seeded with tiles randomly drawn from a conveniently included drawstring bag. Each of up to 4 players then draws 5 more tiles to put on their letter rack. And the game begins.

On your turn, you make a new word by rearranging, adding to, trading letters with the letters on any single row. You (temporarily) claim that word by using one of your color-coordinated scoring cubes (matching your tile rack). Until someone else rearranges, adds to, or trades letters with your word, that particular word remains yours. The longer it is, the higher your potential score.

And so the game continues, turn-by-turn, word-by-word, until someone builds a 10-letter word, claims all 9 rows, or calls a seven-or-more letter JUMBULAYA.

A JUMBULAYA? A JUMBULAYA is a word that can be made by taking one letter from 7 or more of the words already on the board. You can skip word lines, but you can't rearrange the letters. Once all 9 rows contain words, JUMBULAYA can be called at any time during the game, whether or not it is your turn.

As for the excruciating part: in the early phases of the game, when it's your turn, you have to consider each of the 9 possible word rows - even those you've already claimed. If you can make one of your words longer, you might be able to keep it from getting claimed by someone else. If you can change someone else's word, you can add to your scoring potential (you get points for every word that you've claimed by the end of the game, the longer the word, the more points). Even when it's not your turn, it pays to think ahead as many moves as you can possibly contemplate (albeit highly likely that the most exciting opportunity for you gets claimed by someone else before its your turn again). And then, any time after all 9 rows have been made into words, there's the JUMBULAYA possibility. There's also the possibility that someone might make a 10-letter word, or that someone might claim all 9 words (either event resulting in ending the game), but the JUMBULAYA possibility is more common and far more fun to contemplate. Since anyone can call JUMBULAYA at any time, you must always reckon with the possibility that if you don't claim enough words quickly enough, the game will be over.

As for the fun part, there are so many things for you to think about, so many opportunities for you to surprise even yourself with your uncanny brilliance, that you become totally absorbed in the challenge. At first, it's a little slow. You have to wait for your turn. Even though you can plan for various possibilities, the unforeseen has it's way of happening before it's your turn again. But once all nine words are claimed and the JUMBULAYA possibility is activated, you are thoroughly engaged, all the time, regardless of whose turn it is.

Designed by Julie and Karl Archer of Platypus Games, and distributed by the Farkel Factory, Jumbulaya proves itself to be Major FUN, of the excruciating kind - for people who like word games, and like to think hard. The rules are long, but logical, well-written, and not overly complex. Newbies will probably start playing in less than 15 minutes. The tiles are wooden, rounded, and pleasant to touch. Though it can be played by anyone old enough to appreciate Scrabble®, it is such an intense game that we recommend it especially for groups that are roughly the same age and of similar maniacal tendencies.

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Improv Everywhere - Defenders of the Playful

If you've been watching any of the many well-documented, pervasive play antics of Improv Everywhere, you'll understand why they are being presented with the coveted title of Defender of the Playful. You may even, given such spectacular displays of in-your-face playfulness as in the Frozen Grand Central and Food Court Musical events, wonder why it took us so long to acknowledge their contribution to playfulness anywhere. Clearly, they are breaking boundaries, bringing play where no play has dared to go. And their MP3 Experiments are as least as fun and surprising and play-engendering for the participants as they are enticingly puzzling for their unsuspecting audiences.

But for me, it wasn't until their most recent mission, the Surprise Wedding Reception, that Improv Everywhere demonstrated the kind of playfulness that the award was created for. Take a look at one of their most celebrated, and closely related events, called "The Best Game Ever." This, too, was a surprise, and it most definitely led to the delight of everyone involved, players and performers. But unlike The Best Game Ever, the couple who served as the focus of the Surprise Wedding Reception were not so much surprised as they were invited to play. Though the host wasn't above the minor subterfuge of passing himself as a representative of the Mayor's Office, and describing the event as a "free wedding reception," this enlightened willingness to include everyone, the receivers as well as the givers of the performance, led to something that seemed to me much more inclusive, and, because of that, much more of an accomplishment for all playkind.

from Bernie DeKoven, funsmith

Qwirkle Cubes - an elegant game of strategic roll-playing

Setting aside the fact that Qwirkle (the tile version) has won the Major Fun Keeper Award, and resisting any attempt to compare Mindware's Qwirkle (the tile version) to Mindware's Qwirkle Cubes (the dice version), let us proceed as if there were no precedent, and treat Qwirkle Cubes for the unique game it really is. O, sure, we could compare. We could even contrast. But we shall set these temptations aside, for the nonce, at least.

Qwirkle Cubes comes in a Qwirkle Cubes box that is cleverly cube-like. Open the cleverly cube-like box and you find a sturdy cloth drawstring bag, under which are packaged 90 wooden cubes. You release the cubes from their plastic wrappedness, allowing them to cascade onto the table and make a pleasingly muted woodish sound. You fondle them, because they, in their lovingly polished one-inch, wooden, dice-like way, almost beg you to do so. You roll them, observing how each die has a different shape on each face, all of the same color. And, further, how there are six different colors of dice. And then you place all 90 of these smoothly finished colorful cubes into the bag, as instructed.

You are now ready to play. So you, and another, or perhaps 2 or 3 others, take turns extracting 6 dice from the bag. You place those dice in front of you. Perhaps you give them one more roll, just to celebrate the randomness of it all. And so the game begins.

You all look at your dice. Do you notice perhaps a pattern? Are some of your dice of the same color, and each of those dice showing a different shape? Are more of your dice all showing the same shape, and each a different color? Whoever has the longest of either of the aforementioned goes first.

From then on, you take turns, adding to the grid in crossword-fashion, gathering points for the number of dice you place, and for any adjacent rows or columns of dice you add your dice to, garnering yet 6 more points should you complete a row or column of same-color, different shape symbols. One might be tempted to compare it to something a game of rummy played Scrabble®-fashion. Ah, so simple, so easy to learn, and yet, so rife with strategic significance and tactical titillation.

Before you take your turn, you may, if you so desire, re-roll any or all of your dice. And herein lies the wrinkle of conceptual delight that, dare we compare, is new, even to those who play Qwirkle (the tile game). You see, everyone can see what everyone has. Unlike that other Qwirkle game to which we are not referring, there is nothing hidden. But that very openness is thought-provoking, to say the least. Now that you can see the other players' hands, you have everso much more to analyze. And, in being able to re-roll your dice, you find yourself with the yet further thought-provoking opportunity to see what fate has so far hidden from you. A decision to make. A risk to take. True, you can do nothing about the color of the symbols. But equally true, with the re-rolling option, you might be able to change the shape. So you ponder, and roll, and combine, and add to the ever-unfolding matrix (which is conveniently less table-top-consuming than the matrix that ever-unfolds when playing Qwirkle (the tile game).

The more you play, the deeper your appreciation for the strategic implications of playing with dice, and the clearer it becomes to you that Qwirkle Cubes (the dice game) really can't be compared to Qwirkle (the tile game), even though the colors and shapes and rules for matching and the designer (Susan McKinley Ross) are the same. If you already own one, you will probably want the other, not because it's better or more portable or cuter, but because it's unique, and it's uniquely fun. The symmetry of both versions (6 colors, 6 shapes), the visual, conceptual puzzles they both present make both games endlessly fascinating. The dice really make a difference. And so do the tiles. If you own neither, you should consider buying either. Or both. For kids (probably at least 8 years old). For adults. For families. Maybe 10 minutes to learn. Maybe 30 minutes to play. Fun that makes you think. Fun that even, from time to time, makes you laugh. Fun, most satisfyingly Major FUN.

In fact, we find the FUN so Major that we have come to play more for the glory than the score. Just making some spectacular play, using all the dice on one turn, completing a row and adding on to two or even three more all at the same time - is so wonderfully satisfying that winning, dare I say it, seems almost besides the point.