Social Deduction Games: Level-Up Board Game Club Week 5 Wrap-Up

Most of my energy in board game club is not spent on teaching and playing games. As much as I can, I let the kids do that themselves. I may step in for a quick explainer or play a hand of a large group game if I have the space and time, but otherwise my role is more along the sides of the actual content itself. Most of my energy in board game club is spent building and repairing the fragile social threads woven amongst the kids. And this comes in many forms—and anyone who has or works with kids knows them well. Consoling hurt feelings after losing a game. Counseling positive and supportive language. Redirecting negativistic or inappropriate behaviors.

Often it’s specific to board gaming. Stepping in to make groups because nine kids all want to play the same 4-player game at once. Instructing and reminding about correct use of game components (hidden information doesn’t mean actually hiding the cards in a desk and PLEASE do not bend the cards when you hold them). Reinforcing etiquette around packing and cleaning up games so that they return to the box better than how they were found. Pointing out the lines where casual banter becomes excited teasing and trash talk. Issuing and enforcing consequences for that one kid who keeps getting up to see what everyone else is doing and walking away from his game. Yeah, we skipped your turn; you weren’t at the table.

And some days the burden to keep that fabric in-tact is felt heavier than others. And, boy, last week it felt like the threads were coming undone at every seem. I wonder how much of that can be attributed to the usual Friday-afternoon-tired-and-cranky-after-a-long-school-week woes or if the week’s theme—social deduction games—had a role in it? I mean, these games are harbingers of distrust among those at the table, their very core founded on duplicity. And for this age group, feeling like you’ve just been had can sting, even if it is just a game.

I kicked off the session with a few rounds of Werewolf. What better a way to introduce the entwined concepts of hidden information, bluffing, deception, and roleplaying that characterize social deduction games than allowing students to accuse one another of terrorizing crime? Well, we played a version of Werewolf. I reckoned that not every kid would totally appreciate the violence implicit in being devoured by a werewolf at night. Instead, I called it Animal Control, where the wolves were animal catchers, villagers were stray cats, and the doctor was a vet. The logic was shaky, but they were fine with it.

Students set up Jumanji Stampede.

And it went about as well as any Werewolf game I’ve ever seen. Friends adversely teamed-up and accused one another every other round. Of course the kid with absolutely no poker face gets the animal catcher first and starts grinning ear-to-ear as soon as someone accuses them. And without much of a refined sense of deception, by the third time through, everyone knew who everyone else would choose to eliminate and it was easy enough to correctly sus-out who was in what role after one or two rounds. And although students enjoyed the role-playing nature of the game—some even getting into their character as a stray and speaking in partial meows—the player elimination was understandably boring and frustrating for some students, especially if it came by way of being wrongfully accused.

My kiddo who shared her favorite Pusheen card game a few weeks ago, brought in another one of her go-tos: Jumanji: Stampede. Not many students have volunteered to bring in games and share them, so I didn’t mind that the game wasn’t all that aligned with the week’s theme. Neither did the kids, who swarmed over to the rug where it was being set up right after Werewolf ended. She was going to teach and play it which left three seats open and with eight clamoring to join. I adjudicated using the fairest trick in the book. I thought of a number between 1 and 10 and the three closest students got to play.

The other five were temporarily grieved before they begrudgingly agreed to a game of Dixit. I didn’t find out much about the Jumanji game in the hour or so it took to play. That’s not for lack of interest. The eruptive laughter, sounds of launching components, and careful, cooperative planning among the players was so welcomed among four students who don’t otherwise typically play together in the same group. Rather, my second grader did such an awesome job teaching the others the game and facilitating play along that I never needed to step in for an intervention. Unfortunately there was only time for the one playthrough, but she decided to keep the game in the classroom until next week, when I’m sure another group will gather around for the same enjoyment.

Students play Jumanji Stampede. Components were flying all around.

And I’m glad she handled that game so aptly because my attention was fully on the game of Dixit at the next table over. Given how peaceful that game is, I was surprised how frequently I needed to call-out and correct unexpected unkindness. Every time I turned around, I was drawn back either by a loud disagreement about some aspect of the game or some other detracting behavior. This was the first time I’ve had to pull one of the kids aside to review expectations and establish consequences. He was always talking loudly over the table and usually it was a comment about something someone else was doing. Dixit is a social game that doesn’t rely on lying or accusatory discovery of hidden roles. Yet, it’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that the excitement of gaming, generally, and being in an environment of gaming and light competition is too much for some kiddos to handle for long durations without a break or a reset. Emotions get big, adrenaline pumps, and while I love that enthusiasm, it’s my role to tone it back to a manageable level if it begins to have a negative impact on the rest of the players.

The Dixit group split after a nice full game. Some went to watch the thrilling end of the Jumanji game. Others started playing Cockroach Poker. One kid really wanted to play Codenames but couldn’t muster enough interest to get a game going. And he was understandably upset when I suggested he move on, and join the Cockroach Poker game. It sucks when you want to share a game with everyone but no one else is on your wavelength. I understand his frustration, and I hope my suggestion to find something else to do, and shoot to organize a game of Codenames next time was taken well. The redirection to a new activity seemed to hold and he ended up having a good time bluffing and lying his way through Cockroach Poker

One by one, as games wrapped, the kids all joined in on the Cockroach Poker game and finished off the session on a high note. I even joined in for a couple of hands after helping jam the last few bits of Jumanji back into the box. Patching the withering ties that bind among a corp of rambunctious children running on an excitement high is draining; but the energy is well-spent. Next week we dive into engine-building games. One of my second graders has been slow-teaching some of my class Wingspan over the course of several months and he’s eager to show it off for the club. I expect a loose interpretation of engine-building will be in order to find enough workable titles for the group.