‘Longest Road’ Thinking and Being Behind the Curve

Self awareness is an important skill, and I do think that it’s a skill. Some folks are good at it off the rib, and some of us need to cultivate it carefully through attention and practice. In my view, it’s an important skill too, maybe the most important as it relates to one’s degree of emotional intelligence, as other forms of empathy and the ability to interpret others’ actions and words can spring from your own self awareness.

And I believe much of this following an infamous game of Settlers of Catan.

I enjoy boardgames and shared tabletop activities a lot (talked about that recently, in fact). It’s a great hobby that can be social, intellectually challenging, adventurous and just plain fun. But that doesn’t mean it comes without its faults. I’m reasonably certain everyone has those family members or know a That Guy who’s either overly competitive, prone to being spiteful, or otherwise capable of ruining a good boardgame night.

One night – and what’s follow isn’t to say that Alan was being a That Guy, in fact, it might have been me in this case, but – we were over at our close friend Alan’s house for a dinner thingy and game night. On the docket, Settlers of Catan, and for sake of a cast, the players are myself, Alan, my wife Mandy, and our friend Micah.

You’re likely familiar with Catan, but if you aren’t, the short version is that you’re trying to reach ten Victory Points, and you do so by building Settlements, Cities, and Roads through collecting resources and trading them with other players. Everyone starts with two Settlements on the board, and thus, everyone starts with two points. Just eight more to go! There are also bonuses you can earn by, for example, building The Longest Road. <grumble, grumble>

So the game starts and right away Micah starts kicking the rest of our asses, to put it mildly. In a few short rounds, thanks to his admittedly strategic planning, shrewd trading, and some good luck, he rockets up to seven Victory Points. SEVEN! The rest of us all still just have our starting two. Part of that pool of points is the couple one gets for having the Longest Road.

I planned my start poorly that game, so my prospects at eventually winning are slim, but I could build roads. In fact, it was just about the only thing I could do. So I start aggressively building roads on the map to try and steal some points back from Micah, give the rest of the table a chance to catch up. In a round or two I’ve nearly surpassed Micah on roads, and much to my shock, confusion, and dismay, Alan blocks my move.

I…I stare at him. My flabbers are ghasted. My bams were well and truly boozled. And so I ask Alan, my dear friend whom I love just what the fuck he was doing.

His response: “…but you always get Longest Road.”

I discovered that night that I have a pet peeve when it comes to boardgames. It…God, it gets under my skin when somebody makes a tactically stupid play at the table. I don’t mean making a mistake, or a Hail Mary longshot, or forgets something, or has a misunderstanding, or even makes an admittedly risky choice for the sake of a big payoff or just for chaotic fun. Those things are all either understandable or are great in and of themselves. But when someone makes a decision that goes directly against even the most basic and rudimentary strategic sense…

Even writing this now, this game having taken place years ago, I shake with fury at his answer.

To reiterate, as I did to Alan then, all I was capable of at that table that night was building roads. You cannot win by building roads. You must construct Settlements and Cities to win. In blocking my road expansion, Alan only hurt our collective chances of competing with the far-and-away frontrunner, Micah. And I tried explaning that past games just cannot matter in one like this, especially with the dynamic at the table at present.

But it was cool. I pivoted, redirected my expansion and went another way…and he blocked me a second time, for the same reason.

I almost flipped that goddamn table. And it’s a heavy table. And I have a bad back.

Now please don’t imagine I made (much of) a scene. I’m not a voice-raiser or a shouter. And I don’t get angry at much. For the most part, I find displays of anger to be more embarrassing than they are likely to be justified – just my life experience. But like, I did berate him pretty good, but not with anything that was cutting or couldn’t be within the (stretched) bounds of good fun. And I still bring it up. And will do until we’re geriatrics, likely.

Anyway, what do I bring up this story and any of the rest of it for? Well I’ve come to find that ‘Longest Road Thinking’ – that is, an emotional response to a situation that actively hurts the one having it while simultaneously justifying said response as being helpful – can be found off the Catan board and out in the real world. In fact, I’d be willing to be that over the course of that last sentence, a few examples from your own life (or social media) probably sprang to mind.

But while relating these things to real life – another detour.

There’s a documentary out there called Behind the Curve. To summarize it here in brief, it explores those in our society that believe in a flat earth, and in my opinion it does a fair job of presenting them as neutrally as could be done, allowing prominent members of that community involved in the work to represent themselves rather than poke low-hanging fun at them. The juxtaposed flat-earther interviews with those of astronomers, psychologists, and other scientific minds as a sort of counter, foil, or opposed argument to balance them.

In the end, the documentary posed Flat Earth Thinking – that being something which to you might make perfect sense or seem perfectly adequate, despite those around you disagreeing, sometimes vehemently – is something that can happen to any of us, and challenged the audience to consider what thing, what belief they might hold could be their own personal Flat Earth, and why they hold that particular belief.

Tying this rant together in an effort to bring it to a close: Settlers of Catan is just a game.

Boy howdy, did Alan’s stupid, stupid move with blocking my road not deserve the amount of energy I’ve given it over the years, but I like to harness it differently now. Now, when I catch myself having an emotional trigger to an event, it gives me pause. Not always a big one, but just enough to consider if the thing I’m considering doing or saying is about to block someone’s longest road.

Bikes, Bows, and Everything Else

I recognize that I’m saying this from the perspective of a first-world dweller, but I like simple things. I think it’s part of what keeps me frustratingly (for my friends, not me) about five years behind any kind of trend or bandwagon, and by now most of my friends know not to ask if I’ve heard of something before those requisite 1,825 days.

As I mentioned recently, I got married in October. My wife was the one who taught me about this “wedding registry” thing, and she held most of the interest in keeping and updating it for the longest time. My brain just didn’t have the depth for considering things like receiving wedding gifts. That was until a couple of our friends gifted us with a two’fer: a serving set of margarita glasses and a cast iron skillet.

Y’all, I love that skillet.

Even when we opened them, we both gave audible happy sighs, but then she grabbed the glasses and I hugged the skillet, silently each telling the other, “I love you, til death do we part, but if anything happens, this is mine and that’s yours.”

In the months since then, I’ve taken a real cooking turn. I bought a couple of cookbooks (The Official D&D ones – Heroes’ Feast and Flavors of the Multiverse – because I’m a nerd) and have been churning out culinary creation after creation. A lot of the credit goes to my aforementioned spouse for challenging me to bake her a cake a few years ago (which has gone on to become a solid tradition) for first introducing me to the magic that is following a recipe, and the rest goes to that skillet.

Certain things on occasion call for using food processors and immersion blenders, but I’ll modify as I need to in order to eschew those and make due with the following: a knife, skillet, hands, yum. That does the trick nine out of ten times, and it had me thinking of the tons of kitchen gadgets and shiny things that exist out there for cooking. And that had me think of a couple other encounters where I think it’s easy to be oversold, namely bikes, bows, and everything else.

I remember a time I was at my favorite archery shop. I’d just finished at the range, had packed up, and was milling about before leaving. All sorts come through, from hunters, competitive shooters, casual and seasonal shooters like myself, to total beginners. One such newbie was looking around the store, thinking aloud on where to start, when another somewhat-new guy approached him. I’m all for being helpful, but I…disagreed with his advice.

“Yeah bro,” Sorta New Guy told him, “I tried all sorts of bows when I started looking, and I just got my first. Now, you can get one of those beginner units, and that’s all well and good or whatever. And this puppy” (he said, hoisting up his own, pretty expensive compound bow) “cost me about $1,700, but let me tell you, you get what you pay for. You can feel the difference.”

Which to that I say, you can…to a point.

My bow is a faithful steed that was just a baseline Great Tree recurve, out-the-door all said and done for about $300. He’s stuck by me for north of eleven years and…well, got me preferable results up at the line than Sorta New Guy with his bells and whistles.

Am I against bells and whistles? No. Am I here bragging? Well…a teensy bit, yes. But just more to say that that dude way overbought, and that a sturdy, reliable, baseline set can demonstrably serve you for over a decade. Kind of like the above-mentioned “knife, skillet, hands, yum”.

The other encounter was when I went shopping for a commuter bicycle about six years ago. This was an expensive purchase, but that’s because…I won’t lie, I guess these things are just pricey. Mine cost me about $1,000, which hurt, but I genuinely think it’s immortal. And when I was looking at bicycle prices, the costs could be little dinky ones for less than mine, ones like mine, and then quickly and suddenly up into the thousands of dollars, then thousands of thousands of dollars. Like, Jiminy Christmas, I guess if you’re Lance Armstrong and microseconds count to you in a race, but outside of that, no thank you.

The lesson I found in these things is this: More often than not, baseline will do you. Like bikes, bows, and everything else, stuff can and will get as expensive as you want it to be, but wow will that not really mean that it’s much better. It’s about the skill you apply (or eventually apply, through learning) that will make the difference.

And that’s the fun part.