Mouse Trap

Of all the board games I'm likely to cover on this blog, none is as weird as Mouse Trap.

Oh sure, you may think Candy Land, with it's sentient candy inhabitants or even The Game of Life, where you utilize escapism to...not escape from reality, would be stranger, but Mouse Trap really is probably the single most unique board game in existence, solely because of how it was designed. It's a board game where the board is basically secondary. It's simply a thing for the rest of the game to sit on top of. Because, really, Mouse Trap is the contraption, not the board. And while the board is cool looking, no matter what variation or changes they make to it (though of course classic is always the best in most cases), I'll argue that it's still secondary to the rest of the pieces that really make up what Mouse Trap is.

Created in 1963, it was one of the first mass produced three dimensional board games. Working together, players are to build a Rube Goldberg type trap, which, once built, they must then turn on one another and try to spring on their former friends. I like the concept of Mouse Trap for one reason in particular - aside from the amazing design of it all, of course - and that is because as far as I know it's one of, if not the only, board games that forces its players to work together and then split apart. Now what once was a team is now a rivalry. I find that a really fascinating idea that not enough board games delve into. This game was also created by Marvin Glass, and, despite going through a few redesigns over the years, never really lost its coolness.

But there's some problems with Mouse Trap that we need to discuss.

Not the game itself, exactly, because the game, though sometimes irritating trying to make the damn trap work properly and making sure you don't lose a single piece of it along the way thusly rendering it entirely useless for the rest of your life, is actually fine. It's fun to play, it's super neat, it's well designed, but it outright stole from Rube Goldberg. Glass actually openly acknowledged that the game had been heavily influenced by Goldbergs illustrations, but flat out refused to pay licensing and royalty fees. I think this is pretty goddamned ridiculous considering it's Marvin Glass we're talking about here, who, at this point, is a well established name in the industry and not hard up for cash.

But what's even worse, is that Glass later went on to design yet another two games in the same style, based on Goldberg designs, neither of which even so much as credit the mans influence. This is downright insulting. First you refuse to pay the man who creating the very thing that made your game a success design wise, then you refuse to publicly credit him either. At least with a credit you'd be saving some face. But not crediting him? That's tantamount to outright disrespect, honestly. Unfortunately, Goldberg, who at the time was elderly and near retirement, declined to take legal action, primarily because he believed inspiration and ideas are not intellectual property that can be protected with a copyright, trademark or patent. Goldberg would be spinning in his grave if he heard about how fucked up copyright is these days. Instead, in his infinite wisdom, he chose to sell licensing rights for his drawings - likely because he'd seen the success of Glass's games and knew it'd work - to another toy company, thusly thumbing his nose at Glass for his blatant rudeness. The company was Model Products, and this helped him secure the rights to specific intellectual property he could, in return, own and receive royalty payments from.

And this brings up a big question. Was Goldberg wrong?

Perhaps he simply used that excuse as a way to avoid court and legal action, mostly because he was elderly and just didn't want to deal with that nightmare. Plus he would be one man going up essentially an entire corporation, and if America has taught us anything, businesses are considered people more than people. But at the same time I feel perhaps there's an argument to be made there on both sides. Certainly, copyrighting an idea is a ridiculous notion. The Fine Brothers, on Youtube, a few years back tried to copyright the word "react" which is, just, laughable. They were promptly dismissed. But at the same time, Goldbergs ideas weren't just ideas, were they? They were his lifes work. I mean, for fucks sake, the thing is CALLED a Rube Goldberg Machine, thusly insinuating than it's HIS creation. Even when they're not ones he himself designed, they're called that because they're based on the way he designed them. I'd say that clearly falls under intellectual property, but that's just me.

Either way, Mouse Trap stands as a real testament to the creativeness of the board game industry. It isn't just a game you open up, sit down and play. You have to set this whole thing up, and not just like with Monopoly where you get the bank together and pick out what pieces are property you're going to buy and keep track of all your little plastic houses, no, this thing is advanced, man. It takes time and effort to set up a game of Mouse Trap, which realistically only winds up running about 30 minutes, while the setup time can be as long as 15. The setup time is half the time it takes to play the damn thing. That's a commitment. So for that reason, I think it's impressive. You have to REALLY wanna play Mouse Trap if you're gonna play Mouse Trap.

Overall, Mouse Trap, in the end, is a top notch game, even with its backhanded treachery in regards to its creation. In hindsight, it actually makes a lot of sense that Glass wouldn't cop to his thievery when the game itself is about turning on those around you. He was simply adhering to the games protocol. Who could fault him for that, right?

That was sarcasm, in case you didn't get that.