Sam and I played the Game of LIFE the other day. She has my old game — the Milton Bradley version copyrighted in 1960 and “heartily endorsed” by Art Linkletter (his face graces the white $100,000 bills).
You start with $2,000 and a colorful plastic convertible. If you want auto insurance, pay $500.
From there, you spin the “Wheel of Fate” and either go to college or into business. If you skip college, your salary on the red Pay Days is a meager $5,000. But it's still $1,000 more than my dad received his first year teaching college English in 1967.
Go to college and you might become a doctor with a handsome salary of $20,000 per Pay Day.
As the salaries indicate, the game is quaint. Houses cost $15,000, and the car you get at the start is free.
It’s funny too. One game square reads: “Inherit shrunken head collection, pay museum $10,000 to accept it." Another reads: "Uncle leaves you skunk farm. Pay $5,000 to get rid of the skunks."
Not only is it outdated financially, it's also morally dated. You can get married but not divorced. And at the end of the game, you collect — rather than spend — $20,000 for every kid in your car.
For whatever reason, kids love the game. I did. And so does Sam. (Andy, however, always hated it and can’t articulate why.) Sam and I have played it so many times that I often make dumb choices just to see where I’ll end up. I’ve skipped college and forgone purchasing auto insurance. Wahoo, fun times.
Although the game has been updated since 1960 — in one version, the computer guy gets $50,000 every time the spinner comes off the track or gets stuck between numbers — the world has changed markedly. And I think the Game of LIFE should reflect life.
So here are my suggested stops on the 2010 game board.
START HERE. With $2,000 and car. If you want health insurance, pay $5,000.
First space: Transmission blows on your (free) car. Pay $2,000 for repairs.
If you choose the college route: Pay $100,000 in tuition. Take out student loan. Repay 10% of the loan at every Pay Day.
These would be the career choices along the college route:
-Doctor – salary $200,000 (but pay $50,000 for malpractice insurance)
-Lawyer – salary $500,000
-Teacher – salary $60,000
-Investment banker – salary $1,000,000, before bonuses (but pay $2 million in attorney’s fees)
-Journalist – collect $10,000 in unemployment
Farther along the board, you might hit: Find uranium deposit! Collect $100,000, but pay $90,000 for groundwater remediation.
At the “Get Married” space, you would spin the “Wheel of Fate” to determine your spouse, not what presents you receive.
Spin a 1, 2, or 3 – You’ve married a struggling entrepreneur. Pay $10,000 to settle bad debt. Collect no additional salary.
Spin 4, 5, or 6 – You’ve married a teacher. Collect $50,000 extra each Pay Day, and $60,000 per Pay Day after retirement. And receive $5,000 refund if you've purchased health insurance.
Spin 7, 8, or 9 – You’ve married a doctor. Pay off med school student loan of $100,000 but collect $200,000 extra each Pay Day.
Spin 10 – You’ve married a software engineer. Collect $100,000 extra each Pay Day. Collect $10,000 from any player who spins a 10.
After marriage, the next required space is “Buy a House. Spin wheel to determine type.” A 1,2, or 3 nets you a small walk-up for $500,000. Spin 4,5, or 6 and you’ll own a split-level ranch for $150,000. Get a 7,8, or 9, and you’ll be living in an old Victorian mansion for $200,000, plus $50,000 additional for repairs. Spin a 10, and you’ll be living in a gated community for $500,000. Too pricey? Well, you can always take out a subprime mortgage. At every Pay Day, the interest rates increase.
Rather than letting fate decide whether or not you have kids, this would be another route choice on the board. You can have up to 4 kids along the family route. But if you reach the end before you have a child, pay $10,000 to the fertility clinic and add a baby boy. The final space in the child route would say: “Pay $20,000 for a decade of piano lessons, ski school, tennis clinics, soccer camps, dance recitals, horseback riding lessons, and French tutoring.”
Choose the child-less route, and pay $10,000 for a Louis XIV sofa upholstered in cream silk and another $10,000 for a Grand Tour of Europe.
To the collection of sweepstakes winning and “if you have stock” spaces, the modern board must also contain the following:
-Divorce. Lose half your wealth.
-Bail eldest child out of jail. Pay $10,000 if you have children.
-Invest in Ponzi scheme. Lose everything.
-House needs new roof. Pay $20,000.
-Dog has hip dysplasia. Pay vet $2,000.
-Youngest child draws on sofa with permanent marker. Pay $500 dry cleaning fee if you have children.
-Child gets cell phone. Pay $5,000 for too many text messages if you have kids.
-Child gets into Harvard. Pay $200,000 tuition if you have children.
-Midlife crisis! Get a tattoo. Pay $10,000 to have it removed.
-Daughter has eating disorder. Pay $20,000 for therapy.
-Eldest crashes car. Pay $30,000 for a new one.
-Renovate bathrooms. Pay $50,000.
-Spouse gets face-lift. Pay $5,000.
-Destitute uncle’s wife dies. Pay $5,000 for memorial service.
-Laid off! Lose turn and skip next Pay Day.
-If you are an investment banker, go directly to Jail, do not pass go ... Oh wait, wrong game.
But all news isn’t bad, and as in the 1960 version, there would be plenty of opportunities to gain money. Such as:
-Sell first novel. Collect $50,000.
-Inherit Louis XIV sofa. Collect $10,000 from Antiques Road Show dealer.
-Apple stock splits. Collect $100,000 if you own stock.
-Investment in college student’s computer project pays off. Collect $5 million.
-Write best-selling iPhone App. Collect $100,000.
-Bonus time at Goldman Sachs. Collect $2 million. Then go to jail.
And if you can survive the game to the end, wouldn’t everyone be a winner?
