Every competitive game is premised on the assumption that its players have an unspoken agreement. This agreement is: “As part of the game we are allowed to act selfishly.”

This permission pointedly doesn’t derive from the game’s rules. As they neither punish nor reward selfish behaviour. The rules articulate a goal and the means to pursue that goal. Even the existence of such a goal does not grant players permission to act selfishly. It has to be an agreement that players make with each other. Compare this to a gaming group playing Catan, which only allows trades on a 1:1 basis. In such a group taking advantage of another player is deemed excessively selfish and wouldn’t be accepted by the other players. This does contradict the rules of the game or its goal. It’s simply an agreement that players have made with each other.

The argument that this group doesn’t understand the game or is playing it wrong holds no weight. There is no platonic ideal on how to play Catan, after all. There’s only the actual application of rules at the table, as the gaming group sees fit. Even rules that aren’t used as intended by the author, don’t play a role. Nobody is running around controlling gaming groups on whether they’re playing Catan correctly. Even the idealistic goal of playing a game “as intended”, is only relevant if the group sets out to do just that. In most cases, this doesn’t happen. In most cases, the intended style of play only matters to the gaming group, if they end up not enjoying themselves. As long as that is not the case, the goals and intentions of the people who’ve made the game are secondary.

Maybe the competitive game as a place to act out selfishness is one the reasons people are drawn to it. Both young people who are still in the process of balancing their own goals and interests with those of others. But also teenagers and young adults whose need for recognition and self-determination is particularly strong at that age. Competitive games allow us to pursue those things, without fearing serious consequences or punishment. Nonetheless, it is important to identify selfish actions as what they are. In the same vein, it is important to understand that it is the agreement between players that gives us the space to act this way.

That’s why I think it is important to pin this freedom not on the rules of the game. “It’s not prohibited, so it’s legitimate” does not hold for games or real life. In the same sense, it isn’t the type of game that allows us to act this way. “That’s just how it’s done.” isn’t the reason why we get to be selfish in games. Appealing to tradition is a well-known logical fallacy and is no more valid at the gaming table.

It’s in games in particular that we need to remind ourselves, that we are responsible for our actions. This responsibility isn’t voided by a game’s rules or a misguided understanding of the “magic circle”. We always remain accountable for what we do. Especially towards those who bear the consequences of our actions. That is why this usually unspoken agreement, that we allow each other to be selfish, is so important.

Our agreement is, of course, neither unconditional or irrevocable. How much selfishness we’re willing to accept in a game has its limits. By the time another players leaves everybody else waiting endlessly solely to optimize their own move, we’re starting to reach the limits of our agreement. We are also under no obligation to stick to this agreement until the end of the game. We are always free to change our mind. If the acted-out egoism in the game becomes too much, we don’t have to endure it without complaints until the game is over.

What we do have to remember, though, is that this permission is given to the gaming group as a whole. Once we limit who we allow to be selfish and who we’re offended by, we break with one of the core assumptions of shared play. Which is, that as part of this social activity we treat everyone the same way. To some this is the reasons why games are a medium that is closely aligned with democratic ideals. It’s a somewhat superficial observation, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

Competitive games allow us to not only compete with each other, but to also act very selfishly as we do. Maybe these games are an outlet for these impulses. Maybe we just enjoy the perceived transgression of acting as selfishly as we wouldn’t necessarily allow ourselves otherwise. But without a good does of egoism, many competitive games feel anaemic.