Today I was invited to the table of the game of life. Everyone here is playing their cards, some are playing Magic, others Pokemon, some Yugioh, some playing cards, and even one guy over there has been playing Baseball cards I think, but as absurd as this game looks, they all appear to be building to a greater image.
The call me to the table to add to the game.
I walk up and pull out my deck of one, singular Skip Uno card. I sit down and shout Uno and play my Skip Uno card. I have won.
The table looks at me - paused in bafflement; a silent stare of bewilderment
They tell me that is not how this game of life works. We each create combos, chains, strategies and skills and build this massive play to form a much greater game.
They tell me that there isn't any winning in this game of life; they tell me that I need to bring more cards to the table, draw some more and join in on creating chained webs and supportive suggestions.
I tell them this is all that I have, there is nothing more to how my plays work other than this singular Skip Uno Card. I play Uno, the only function of Uno is to remove your cards. There is a limited amount of chain and skillful strategy that can be played in the traditional game of Uno; even less when your entire deck is empty and all you have is a singular card.
We have an issue. My game doesn't work at this table. We are incompatible, my deck simply doesn't work with the nature of this collaborative game.
I turn to the ref, solutions my good man. I can't fix my deck, I can't generate new cards. I can't make a play other than Skip Uno, what can anyone ask of me.
The ref checks the book, he checks the rules; he looks up and with a quizzical suggestion, asks if I could ask for someone else's cards
I say no, I don't have a card for that, all I have is a single Skip Uno Card. I do not have a Draw 4 or Draw 2. I only have Skip Uno.
He looks at me. He turns to the other players. He whispers in their ears as they chatter among one another. They each pull from their decks, donating one card each and collecting them into a stack.
They hand me the deck. In it, a Preordain, a holographic Charizard, a single piece of Exodia, a four of spades, and Babe Ruth. These cards now sit around my single Skip Uno card.
I turn to the ref, raising an eyebrow at this strange deck built before me; uncertain if this solution would work, if these cards could even possibly be played at this table.
Even so, new options have been placed in my hand. The bizarre game resumes. I play the four of spades.
