Games, bets and forfeits

The dice decided, not you. That is the entire appeal, and it is a far more useful piece of machinery than it looks: a game supplies permission without anybody having to ask for anything, which is the hardest part of this for most people.

Consenting adults only. Everything on this page is about adults over 18 who have freely agreed to it.

Written from first-hand experience or extensive research by the editor.

A game is the cheapest permission structure there is. Nobody has to say what they want, nobody has to name an offence, and if it goes flat you can simply put the cards away and watch television. That low stake is exactly why I suggest this category to people whose real obstacle is embarrassment rather than nerve. Everything on this page is between consenting adults over 18.

The mechanism is that the decision moves outside both of you. When the dice decide, the person receiving did not ask and the person delivering did not impose, and both can behave as though the whole thing arrived from somewhere else. That is a fiction, obviously. It is a fiction that works on people who know perfectly well it is one.

There is a longer piece on the psychology of the bet at the wager, which covers why the pretence of chance does what it does. What follows here is ten specific games with the practical settings that make each one playable. The ordinary negotiation still happens first, and a safe word still applies inside a game, because an agreed forfeit is not a promise to endure anything.

Cut of the cards

One draw each from a shuffled deck, high card wins, and the loser takes the agreed number. It takes eight seconds and there is no skill in it at all, which is the point: neither of you can be blamed and neither of you can try harder. Good as a first attempt at this whole category, and good as a decider at the end of an evening when nobody wants to make a decision.

Top: "Cut. High card walks away."
Bottom: "Seven."
Top: "Ten. Twelve, then, and you can shuffle for the next one while you are thinking about it."

The running dice

A single die, thrown in turn, and every throw adds to a running total that both of you watch climb. Nothing happens until the last throw. The anticipation is the whole scene and it is unusual in that both people feel it: watching a number grow that you will have to deliver is its own sort of nerve. Set the cap before the first throw or this is the one that runs away.

Top: "Six. That is twenty-two."
Bottom: "Can we stop at twenty-two?"
Top: "We agreed six throws. Two to go, and you throw the next one yourself."

The match

A real fixture, a stake agreed before kick-off, and ninety minutes of it sitting there while you both pretend to watch the football. What makes it good is the duration: the bet is placed at three o'clock and settled at ten, and the whole afternoon has a low hum under it. It also works entirely at a distance if one of you is not in the same house.

Bottom: "One each with ten minutes left. This is unbearable."
Top: "You picked them. Ten a goal, and if they lose it is twenty and no arguing about the referee."
Bottom: "And if they win?"
Top: "Then I make the dinner and you gloat. Those are the terms."

Best of three at darts

Or snooker, or table tennis, or anything decided in the room in twenty minutes. Unlike cards, this one involves skill, which changes the flavour completely: losing is not luck, it is being beaten, and for some people that is the entire appeal. Be careful pairing a player with a beginner unless the mismatch is the joke you are both in on.

Top: "Two legs to one. Do you want the third or do you want to settle now?"
Bottom: "I will take the third."
Top: "Brave. Same stake, and if you lose this one we round it up for the cheek."

Quiz questions

A set of questions, a fixed price per wrong answer, and a scorer who keeps the total visible. It suits people who like being tested rather than being caught, and the questions can be tailored: general knowledge, or things about each other, or the contents of an agreement you both signed and one of you has not reread.

Top: "Question four. What are the three things you agreed to do every week?"
Bottom: "The washing, the accounts, and... the bins?"
Top: "The bins are not on the list. That is three wrong out of four, and we said four each. You can work the total out yourself."

The board game house rule

An ordinary game, played properly, with one extra clause bolted on: a forfeit for going to jail, for a certain square, for losing a piece, for coming last. The pleasure is how long it stays ordinary. You are two adults playing Scrabble on a Sunday afternoon and there is a strap on the sideboard, and neither of you mentions it for forty minutes.

Bottom: "That is a triple word score and it is not even a word."
Top: "It is in the dictionary. Challenge it if you like, and you know what a failed challenge costs."
Bottom: "I withdraw the challenge."
Top: "Sensible."

The forecast

A bet on something real and slow: the weather next Saturday, an election result, whether a parcel arrives on time. The stake sits there for days, which is a different experience from a game decided in a minute, and it gives you a reason to message each other about the forecast all week. This is the best of these for people who are not in the same city.

Bottom: "The forecast has changed. It says rain on Saturday now."
Top: "It does. You said dry all weekend and you were very confident about it."
Bottom: "It might still clear up."
Top: "It might. I will book Sunday evening either way."

The ladder

Rock paper scissors, best of nine, and the stake rises with each round: one for the first, two for the second, three for the third. Absurd, quick, and much funnier than it has any right to be, which is a feature. Games that make people laugh are the ones that get a nervous partner over the first hurdle.

Top: "That is four in a row. You keep going for scissors."
Bottom: "I do not."
Top: "You do. Round five is worth five, and I will tell you now that I am going to throw rock."

The timed hunt

A written list of things to find in the house, a clock, and a price for each item still missing when the time is up. It gets somebody moving and slightly flustered, which is a good state to arrive at a chair in, and the list can be as arch as you like: an implement, a hairbrush, the written agreement, a particular item of clothing.

Top: "Four minutes. Six things on the list."
Bottom: "Where have you put the wooden spoon?"
Top: "That would be telling. Three minutes forty."

The jar

Folded papers in a jar, each with an instruction on it, drawn blind. Both of you write some of the papers and neither knows which is which, so the draw is genuinely unpredictable to both. Put some blanks in. A jar in which every paper is a punishment is a much less interesting jar than one where a third of them say nothing happens.

Bottom: "It says corner, fifteen minutes, no explanation."
Top: "Then that is what happens. Put it in the pile and draw the next one when the timer goes."
Bottom: "Did you write that one?"
Top: "No idea. That is the arrangement."

Implements, dress and position

Games are informal, so the dress column is mostly ordinary clothes, which is part of why this category is easy to start with. What each implement actually does is on implements.