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  • Can we please stop playing Cards Against Humanity?

    Tell me if this situation sounds familiar to you.

    You’re in your early-to-mid thirties.

    You’re at a party with friends.

    There’s about 8-10 of you sitting around a table drinking.

    You’re two beers in. Someone asks if anyone wants to play a board game.

    Someone suggests “Werewolves.” Another tosses in “The Resistance.”

    And then it happens.

    “Wait! Did anyone bring Cards Against Humanity?”

    Three people inevitably raise their hand. And the night unpleasantly takes its turn.

    Most people I know love Cards Against Humanity (CAH). It’s that card game where one player draws a white card with a phrase. There are some blanks that need to be filled. All the other plays pick a card from their hand with rude or bizarre words written on it, and toss it in the middle.

    The first person then reads over the words to fill in the blank and selects a winner. Sometimes the final phrase when read out loud is hilarious. More often it’s nonsense. Everyone laughs. Win-win.

    It’s like Mad-Libs, but for a group.

    Or so it seems.

    To be honest, I used to really enjoy CAH too. It feels like a thousand years ago when a friend of a friend brought a dirty paper back to a house party. In it were some cards he printed himself on his shitty office printer.

    It wasn’t a bad time. But then the following thousand years happened. Now, every time I hear someone suggest we play that game, my eyes automatically roll. I start wondering how long it will take me to finish that six pack and be on my way.

    Simply put: I’m sick and tired of playing Cards Against Humanity. I really am.

    I even kind of hate it.

    There’s a few reasons why. The first is how the game gives people a false feeling of cleverness.

    More often than not, after a round is played, it’ll go something like this:

    One person screams. “Oh no, you didn’t!”

    Other person laughs and nods their head maniacally, like they just pulled a fast one on everyone.

    Other players see what card was played to answer “What does Vladimir Putin enjoy for breakfast?”

    “Pac-Man uncontrollably guzzling cum.”

    Or maybe the card was “Coat hanger abortions.”

    Laughter all around.

    Oh, no they didn’t.

    Well, of course they did. It’s the most random and bizarre card in their hand. The other choices were “Unicorns,” “Vikings,” or “Catapults.”

    Even though any of those three would have made more sense (grammatically, and in terms of what a person can actually consume for breakfast), inevitably people gravitate towards the strange and obscene.

    Naturally they will play that card and feel clever, even if it’s there’s nothing clever about it. It was simply written on the card for them. It’s not like they just conjured up that image out of their head.

    Worse, they’ll be rewarded. The player selecting the winner will likely succumb to their devilish deed and award them one point for that nonsense.

    And that’s where the flaw in the game lies. Not entirely with the nonsensical cards and simple structure (which is quite good), but with the way people play it.

    It doesn’t award people for clever word play (unless you happen to be playing with a bunch of other lit snobs like myself). It rewards them for picking out whichever card from their hands makes them giggle the most.

    Even though other cards would be more clever, or a better fit, there’s always the usual suspects.

    “Mecha Hitler” and so forth.

    Because the cards are pre-written, no one gets to be clever. They just act on instinct. They just pick the first card that leaps at them.

    Like any number of bad YouTube videos, flash games or web cartoons, spontaneity is all that counts. Doing the most random thing, regardless of the consequences, is how you win. The game then rewards people for having the shortest attention span possible.

    And that sucks.

    The game basically rewards players for being stupid. Because people aren’t thinking about how to make the most ironic or grammatically correct phrase. Because people are too busy picturing Pac-Man downing a blue bucket of ghost cum.

    CAH does work in the sense that it’s an icebreaker. Plenty of people (myself included) have noticed how playing board games gets people to open up.

    In a sense, it forces people to socialize and become extroverted. By seeing how people play, we get learn more about people. Some people will take charge. Others might cheat. Some will go sit in the corner and talk over wine while the rest game on.

    CAH at least manages to keep people entertained. It keeps the party together. But for the love of God, there are so many better games out there. Games where people can actually be clever.

    Telephone Pictionary comes to mind. A game where you write anything on the first page; pass the stack; the second player draws what is written; pass the stack; the third writes what is drawn; and so forth.

    For one, people get to choose what to write. You can start with something boring like “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” Or you can go for the crude “Dick fingers.” Either way, you see where people’s minds take them and get a better sense of how people think than with CAH.

  • Mass Effect: Andromeda’s Terrible Ad Copy

    Mass Effect: Andromeda is what the industry calls as AAA-title. That’s a top-tier release by a major publisher which is expected to sell millions of copies and make roughly a quadrillion dollars off an already multi-million dollar investment.

    It’s the blockbuster of the video game industry.

    Knowing this, it makes me wonder why I keep seeing dollar-store adverts for their product on my phone.

    Now, it’s possible it’s supposed to be an animated GIF, but since there’s no way to tell on my phone (it never loads those properly), but all I have to work with is what I’m given. And what I’m given is honestly pretty sad.

    Why this advert sucks

    The simple answer? It’s the ad copy.

    “Buy now.”

    Are you fucking kidding me? That’s the best your writing team could come up with? Who did they assign to put this together? A first-month intern from another department because everyone else was too busy?

    “Buy now” is of course marginally better than, if perhaps not quite as hilarious as, “You buy now.”

    But it’s close.

    Often, advertisers try to hide the fact that they are so greedy for your coin, by using wording like “try for free” or “no obligations” or even “Yours free, for 14 days.”

    These aren’t particularly compelling or valuable statements, unless the product is really self-evident and you’ve already made up your mind that you need it (but haven’t decided on them or their competitor).

    For instance, a new line of bread called SuperBread hits the market. No one is sure what makes it super, but everyone is sure they love bread.

    “Try for free.”

    Ooh, free sample! Yes!

    Now that I think about it, “SuperBread: Yours free, for 14 days” would make for one hell of an interesting ad to think about, but that’s for another time.

    Back to our copy.

    Buy now” is the even more arrogant version of these statements.
    It speaks a language of its own, a language that’s so self-evident it suggests whoever was reading the ad was either an idiot (“ads are for things you can buy?“) or simply waiting for the moment when they could buy the product.

    For instance, I can see the ideal scenario for this ad playing out like this:

    Day 1: Can I buy it now? Not yet. Okay, me wait.

    Day 2: “Buy now!” Shit! Time to buy! Thank God I saw that advert on my phone. Because I totally click ads on my phone and buy shit on the bus.

    Sarcasm aside, you can probable see the problem. Ad copy like this ignores the fundamental “givens” that come with all ads.

    When we see an advertisement, we already know the basic premise. It’s pushing something we can buy.

    It might as well just say: “Mass Effect Andromeda: You can buy this.”

    We know this. Everyone who has seen an ad knows this. So why re-iterate it?

    Instead, use that precious ad space to say what’s missing. You know, the next thought that goes in everyone’s head:

    “Okay, but why?”

    Better adverts answer this question.

    Ad copy is supposed to inform the consumer why they should buy this product.

    I’ve always felt that the most compelling ads are the ones that make a clear value statement or proposition to their audience; or at the very least, deploy copy that lists the benefits of the product.

    You know, the benefits of buying something.

    By focusing on how it benefits the consumer, advertisers are employing the most basic tenants of seller psychology.

    They’re also effectively arguing that their product is something that people ultimately want, need, desire, right?

    Right?

    “Buy now” is not a benefit for the consumer. It’s a benefit for the advertiser. In fact, it says nothing to the consumer, and offers just as much. Ditto.

    For instance, let’s compare Mass Effect: Andromeda’s very real ad campaign to a fictional one I’m going to make up on the spot for a new company called SwiftBroom.

    The marketers at SwiftBroom had to put out ad copy. At their first meeting, they realized could either go with:”SwiftBroom: Buy Now.” And post a picture of their product.

    Or, they could go with: “Start brooming.”

    Or even: “Start cleaning.

    Hell, during their round table talk, one intern even asked not make it super direct?

    “Clean your damn floors.”

    As asinine as these ads would be, they would be better than what we got for Mass Effect: Andromeda, because now I know what I can do with my SwiftBroom or why I should buy it.

    Or let’s take a real-world example that’s closer to home.

    Ontario, everyone’s favourite province. On their license plates as well as ad campaigns they use the provincial slogan:

    “Yours to discover.”

    As tacky as it might seem, this is actually good ad copy. The use of “yours” makes it personal and intimate.

    Discover” is an active verb, something yet to happen, ripe with potential.
    Together, the slogan clearly states the benefit of visiting that province.

    Discovery evokes places to visit, things to see, secrets to uncover and memories to make.

    Hell, Ontario effectively made every single license plate they issue into free ad copy for their tourism industry.

    So, good job, Ontario.

    Can you imagine if their slogan was “Discover now” or “Move here”? Pretty lame.

    “Ontario: Buy Now.”

    To re-iterate, by telling the audience they can buy it, all the ad is doing is telling them what they already know. What it’s not doing, is telling them what they haven’t decided yet or are unaware.

    Why?

    In a dark sort of way, Mass Effect: Andromeda’s ad copy is a fairly pure statement. I mean that it’s one of those rare glimpses at the dismal, submerged, underbelly of the advertiser’s desire distilled down to its bare essence.

    Buy this. Spend your money. We want it. Now.

    “Buy now” is arguably the least-bullshit laden statement to ever come from a marketer.

    But it’s also bad copy.

  • When did Mark Hamill start looking like Orson Welles?

    I’m not sure when it happened, but it did.

    Mark Hamill started looking curiously like Orson Welles (minus the massive steak and wine gut, of course).

    I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I find the similarities kinda striking.

    Is it the beard? The patches of grey just under the chin? Or maybe it’s the graying, receding hairline and the coy, furled, once-a-smoker brow that shield those cold-as-ice eyes?

    If Hamill keeps up the trend of looking as haggard as he currently does, I wouldn’t be surprised if he directs his own Henry V adaption come this time five years or ends up slumming TV spots for some cheap American wine.