FOMO, Buying Board games and Decisions

 I wandered past a board game shop the other day and they had a game I've wanted on sale on the front window.

Classic Dungeon Crawler, nice range of minis, some new features that make it a little unique.

I was tempted to buy it. I wanted to have it. It was on special, the only questions I ask myself are, do I want it? And, is it just going to become junk I have to get rid of at some point?

On the first point, I found myself answering with a full-throated ‘yes’. I saw it, and I saw myself playing it every weekend for weeks, painting the miniatures, playing with friends and family.

I loved that vision.

But what I’ve learnt, as someone who has bought many Dungeon Crawlers and Narrative based big box games, only to have them sit, on the shelf, unplayed for years, is that you can’t trust that vision.

Because that vision is only a brief moment in time, and doesn’t capture the full experience of owning a board game.

I mean, it’s been a long time since I could get 6 friends together, regularly, every weekend. So that vision of me playing is primarily built on many years of playing with friends, after school, on weekends and school holidays.

The vision of arranging friends, ringing the group, ensuring snacks were covered, arrival times sorted, was definitely not inspiring.

I’ve got better things to do with my weekend.

And there’s also the reality that I’ve got a family, 2 jobs, and a house that needs constant cleaning and some repairs. There’s a very VERY good chance that while intentions are good, It'd be blocked by life events and peter out.

That’s not particularly inspiring either.

And so when I caught myself and took a look at the full reality of owning a board game, I realised I wasn’t really into it.

As much as I loved the ideal vision – as appealing as that was – I just wasn’t up for the reality of making it happen.

This is a trick a lot of us fall into.

Like, we want to become ballerinas because we love the idea of looking breathlessly beautiful on stage while Tchaikovsky gently plays, but very few of us are up for years of toe-torture and training.

Or we want to tree-change and move to some rural acreage because we love the idea of sitting on the back verandah watching the sun setting through the gums.

But then we get there and realise that that vision involves endless whipper-snippering and helping cows give birth.

We get drawn to moments. We get seduced by moments. But moments only exist in long journeys that lead us to them.

And while we might love the idea of a particular moment, when we’re setting our life’s goals (or deciding what toy to buy next) we have to look at the journey.

And the big implication here is for goal setting. When you’re setting your life goals, don’t fixate on moments. Lock on to journeys and ways of being.

These should be the stars that guide you.