I’ve never won a game of Monopoly before. Not because I can’t think strategically or because I tap out around the three hour mark, but because there eventually comes a point when the game turns into something I never signed up for.
Have you ever reached the point in Monopoly where one person is obviously winning and the rest of the players are miserable? The board that was once the land of equal opportunity always becomes the game of how much wealth one can hoard before the other players are forced to give up.
This is why the beginning of the game will always be my favorite part. Everyone starts out on a level playing field, with so much hope and promise in the atmosphere. We’re all friends, neighbors even. I’m in a suitable position to purchase whatever property I happen to stumble upon first. Every player is working with the same means and operating under an equal level of agency over their decisions. It’s pure bliss.
But as I move around the board throughout the game, the rent prices rapidly and dramatically increase and here I am… still earning the same measly $200 each time I pass go. I know what you’re thinking…just invest in more property so that my own rent prices increase, right? Well what happens when I can’t afford to buy a house because I’m paying the richest players hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars every round?
Just when I think I’m doing the right thing by saving my money and not splurging on properties I can’t afford, the other players who have more money are investing in properties with the goal of depleting me of every dollar I’ve worked hard to save. I’m no longer saving money to invest in myself. I’m saving it so that I’m able to give it to the richest players in the game, who are using my money to buy more of their own properties in the meantime. It’s becoming clear that I’m trapped in an unsustainable system, where everyone’s success hinges entirely on my lack of options.
I can feel myself starting to seethe with jealousy for the other players. I’m not jealous that they have more money than me. I’m jealous that they get to kick back and relax. I’m jealous that they think this is fun. I feel grateful just to pass go and collect that measly $200, while they are basically being handed money at every turn.
Myself and the other players could devise a plan to overthrow the richest players. There’s strength in numbers, right? This mindset never takes me very far, because at one point or another, everyone has a price. “You can skip out on rent if you give me your railroad,” “If you give me your properties, I won’t charge you rent for the rest of the game.” No one wants to overthrow the oppressive system, they want to be in on it.
But this is how the game works, right? I shouldn’t complain, I’m being too sensitive. Just because I’m on the verge of bankruptcy, doesn’t mean the monopoly economy isn’t flourishing. I mean, look around…the board is full of houses and hotels, deals are being made left and right, money is being constantly exchanged and the game is just starting to become interesting.
I should feel grateful to even be a part of the game, but I’m one bad stroke of luck away from losing everything.
Now I’m beginning to sweat.
They can smell my fear.
“You still have time to dig yourself out of this hole, just sell me everything you own.”
I’m at a crossroads.
Do I give up my ownership of everything I worked so hard for just to survive for a couple more rounds?
They’re relying on my allusion of agency to guide me towards the decision that allows them to exploit me. They act like they’re cutting me slack or doing me a favor, but I know they’re taking joy in my misery.
I’m finally out of options. I’ve lost, but the game is far from over.
I still have to sit there and watch the rich people fight over who gets to be the richest. We’ve reached the point in the game where one or two people own the entire board and are now just trading money back and forth. I sit there and watch them revel in my misery.
It’s enough to make me flip over the board.
Thankfully this is just a game, right?
