Wordplays

Margaret Schnabel & Clark Gudas

Explanation: Last year, when I was in Oxford and Clark was in Boston, we got into the practice of playing improv games together during video calls. Neither of us are particularly gifted in the theatrical arts, so the games we ended up playing the most were more like simple guides to collaborative storytelling. Now that we’re both living in Boston, we’ll often strike up a game during an empty moment: waiting in line, walking to a friend’s place, passing the minutes before a concert starts. Our go-to’s are “ABC” and “fortunately/unfortunately,” whose rules we’ll explain below.

Improv games have a number of innately appealing characteristics: they’re portable; require absolutely no materials besides your mind (and maybe that of a pal or two); and---this is an essential ingredient that virtually guarantees an enjoyable “play” session, I’d argue---they often turn out to be hilarious. We urge you to grab a friend, or a benevolent roommate, or your mom, or a pet, or your bus-seat partner, and give these a whirl.

The game: I’m not sure whether there’s an official or most-common name for this game, but we simply refer to it as ”the ABC game.”

Best with: 2 or more people, although this can absolutely be played alone as well!

The rules: Alternate writing (or speaking) sentences with your partner to create a story. Your sentence will start with the letter A; your partner’s the letter B; and so on. We’re not strict about keeping utterances to exactly one sentence, but we’ve found things are smoothest/most glamorous/revelatory/etc. when your exchanges are relatively rapid.

Example:

All over my jeans!
Balsamic vinaigrette is always getting between me and my goals.
Cut it out, Pete, and please just hand me some napkins.
“Dania,” Pete said, “Is there anything I can do to make up for ruining your Levi’s?”
“Easier said than done, Pete,” I replied.
“For real, though, if you could pay for my meal, I would call us even.”
“Gee whiz, Dania,” he replied, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “You know I’m already late on rent.”
Hmphing, Pete tried to clean my jean leg instead: napkins doused in vinegar, a wet towel, sponges and soap, but nothing worked.
“I’m guessing the Home Ec classes in Colorado left something to be desired, eh, Pete?” I teased.
Just like Pete, to get fuming red after a comment like that.
“Kidding,” I tried, a bit weakly---but it was too late.
Locked jaw, fists clenched, Pete spilled the rest of the balsamic vinaigrette on my jeans.
My Levi’s, dear reader, were totaled: black as night, or a really sinister-looking crow, or those chin hairs that, I swear, grow back thicker every time I pluck them.
No first date I’ve ever had culminated in a staredown, but there we were, glares locked as the waiter set our salads on the table.
Oh reader! Our prospects seemed dire indeed.
Probably would have been best to leave a twenty on the table, turn around, and exit the restaurant.
Quietly, I rifled through my purse, seeing if I had enough cash to leave and make a run for it.
Resting his hand atop my bag, Pete asked me not to pay: “I’ll cover the bill, as an apology.”
“So soon?” I joked, my hope rising again slightly at his unexpected generosity.
Trying to smile politely, he said, “But I don’t forgive you.”
“Understandable,” I said, but rested my hand firmly on top of his and scanned his face for surprise.
Very slowly, surprise came over him, loosening his shoulders, relaxing his pinched lips, and flushing out the angry heat I felt in his hands for another kind of warmth.
Warmth that demanded, well, a little bit of a cooling glaze.
X-rated thoughts began flitting through my mind, but only briefly, before he made his final suggestion:
“You got any more balsamic?”
“Zilch,” I said, taking his hand. “Why don’t we go find some?”

The game: Again, not sure on which particular corner of the internet we discovered this game, nor what the Improv Gods Above would have us call it, but we refer to it as “Fortunately/Unfortunately.”

Best with: 1-2 people (so you can get a nice rhythm going) and a can-do attitude.

The rules: You and your partner alternate building a story-world (or making observations about the real world; both are exciting, in very different ways!). Your observations must start with “fortunately,” and your partner’s “unfortunately,” or vice versa. Continue until you progress so deeply into the absurd that you’ve lost all sense of reality, and then continue a bit longer, and then give up in a fit of incredulous, hearty chortling. Best served cold and weird.

Example:

Fortunately, my shift at the library is almost over.
Unfortunately, someone just returned a book that says I’m the author.
Fortunately, my doctor put me on some new meds that have mild hallucinogenic effects, so I’m not too worried that what I’m seeing is reality.
Unfortunately, the woman on the front cover insists I take her seriously.
Fortunately, I’m feeling bored enough to attempt to parse that ambiguous smile.
Unfortunately, her sickle-shaped rictus wavers in my hallucinogenic haze, at times seeming amused, enfranchised, bewildered, and uneasy.
Fortunately, amused, enfranchised, bewildered, and uneasy is exactly the tone I need to strike for my role in the local theater troupe’s rendition of Mamma Mia!
Unfortunately, this is what the woman on the front cover told me, and I don’t know if I trust her.
Fortunately, now, in addition to feeling bored, I’m also feeling like I should be reckless with my trust, so…hey ho!
Unfortunately, upon successfully landing the role in Mamma Mia!, she, who calls herself Echo, has asked me to trust her with my savings account and safe combination.
Fortunately, upon receiving my weekly library check, I immediately spend nearly all of it on groceries and fancy candles, so there’s hardly anything in my savings account, anyway.
Unfortunately, this frustrates Echo, and she’s frozen my debit card until I promise to follow her spending recommendations.
Fortunately, the girl has mad good taste.
Unfortunately, I zeroed out my savings after she had me cover my house’s walls and windows in tasteful ’70s decor.
Fortunately, the library down the road is hiring…