The Position of Board Game Cafes, Oral Tradition, and Authorship

This is a position talk.

I run a board game cafe. My job is to teach games in the play space. Therefore, what I am about to write may be somewhat motivated by a desire to justify what I do. Please read it with that in mind.

I was the person who read the instruction manual

Perhaps I got hooked on board games because I was good at reading instruction manuals.

Opening the box, reading the manual, understanding the contents, and teaching them to the people around me. That repetition was my entry point. At the time, I didn't think I was doing anything special. To play a game, someone has to do that, and if I could do it, I would—that was all there was to it.

But looking back now, that was a rather unique position.

Most people who learn Shogi learn it by being taught by someone else. The same goes for Mahjong and soccer. People who learn on their own by reading a rulebook are in the minority. That is how traditional games are. They spread from person to person. That has continued for hundreds of years.

Modern board games actually spread that way, too. Whether at a game gathering or a board game cafe, one person understands it and teaches it to others. In the board game community, this is called "inst" (instruction). The reality of their spread is oral tradition.

However, I feel there is one major difference between traditional games and modern board games.

Who is the author of UNO again?

I wonder how many people know the name of the author of UNO.Most people probably don't. But no one is troubled by that. Some families allow stacking Draw 2 cards, while others do not. It is not rare for "our version of UNO" to take precedence over the official rules. Even so, no one says, "That is not the real UNO" (though I feel like people have started saying that a little bit lately).The same goes for Shogi and Mahjong. No one knows who made them. The rules differ by region. They have also changed over time. Yet they survive. Perhaps the characteristic of culture is that it survives while changing.However, in the world of modern board games, the situation is different.Phrases like "Knizia's new work" or "a typical Uwe-style piece" are naturally understood. Concepts like official FAQs, errata, and author rulings exist. When an ambiguous part of the rules arises, the place to seek an answer is not the community, but the rulebook and the author.Mahjong has local rules, too. Modern board games have house rules. That is not the difference.In modern board games, the question of "how it should be played" arises naturally. And we seek the answer not from the community, but from the author and the rulebook. This structure itself is closer to a work of art than a traditional game.

Is the rulebook a musical score?
If you ask about the rules of Mahjong, "Whose intention is this?", no one can answer.

Over a long period of time, countless people have been involved, and it has settled into its current form. There is no author. There is no intention. What exists is a collective agreement, so to speak, that has been formed within the community. Therefore, if you try to change the rules of Mahjong, no one has the authority to decide it, and conversely, everyone does.

Modern board games are different.

The question, "What did the author intend here?" naturally holds up. And there is an answer to that question. There are FAQs, errata, and official rulings. There is a rulebook.

We are not trying to follow the rules. We are trying to reproduce the author's intention.

Herein lies the nature of modern board games that differs from other games. If Shogi and Mahjong are "culture," then modern board games are "works." And as long as they are works, the act of trying to deliver them correctly feels somewhat like a performance.

Think of classical music. Performance is learned through oral tradition. A master teaches a disciple. Interpretation, expression, and tempo differ depending on the performer. However, what guarantees authenticity is the musical score. You wouldn't call something with rewritten notes a Beethoven symphony. Freedom exists. But that freedom is built upon the original work.Instruction in modern board games has the same structure. How you teach depends on the person. Playstyles differ, too. But the final authority lies in the rulebook—that is, the author's intention.The rulebook is not just an instruction manual. It is a document that preserves the author's intention. It is quite close to a musical score.

Instruction begets the next instructionPeople who are moved by music at a concert sometimes start playing an instrument themselves. The audience becomes the performer. And then, they become the side that delivers music to someone else.People who think a game is fun after playing it at a board game cafe sometimes teach it to friends at home. The person who was taught becomes the one who teaches. And a new oral tradition begins.Instruction begets the next instruction.This is the explanation for the significance of a board game cafe that makes the most sense to me. What we are doing is not explaining rules. We are taking the first step in a chain of oral tradition.That is why Lambie Fish also has an attached shop. Many board game cafes are complete with just a play space, but we dared to attach a shop. Just as there is a music store on the way home from a concert, I wanted it to be a place where people who thought, "I want to perform this myself," could get the instrument (game) while still feeling that enthusiasm.The experience becomes an entry point, they become the side that teaches friends at home, and then they become an entry point for someone else. I didn't want to break that chain.Is instruction a performance?Having written this far, I feel I have arrived at what I really wanted to say.If the rulebook is a musical score, then the act of instruction is close to a performance.You read the author's intention from the original work and deliver it to the people in front of you. Just as you turn notes into sound, you turn rules into experience. And using that experience as an entry point, people head toward becoming the ones who perform themselves.Even before I started the board game cafe, I had always been reading manuals and teaching them to those around me. It just became my job, but the essence of what I am doing has not changed.Calling instruction a performance might be an exaggeration. I probably lack the technique and artistry to be called a performer. Even so, if the rulebook is a musical score...We, the people at the board game cafe, might be the ones who play the work written by the author for the first time.And the experience born there creates new instructions in other places, creating new play.Thinking about it that way, I think a board game cafe is not just a place to play, but a node of culture through oral tradition.This is probably a very strong position talk.