When Simulacrum began four years ago, it was the journal of board wargame collecting. But it wasn’t long before it became the journal of board wargame collecting and accumulating, in simple recognition of those of us (and I shall name no names; the guilty are even now quaking in their dice towers) who have more regard for filthy lucre money than they do for conserving the rapidly-dwindling supply of old games. I live to regret this.

Yes, I regret bowing to the forces of darkness, of selling my soul for a few extra tainted subscriptions, of auctioning off my honor and my pride to the lowest bidder. My regret stems from the fact that I am reduced, not only to permitting a discussion of such a heretical nature in these pages, but also to taking active part in it myself. My distress has no ZOC.

Conventional wisdom says that if you miss an opportunity to buy a rare game on eBay, another opportunity will come up again. My experience suggests otherwise, but then, my definition of rare seems to be more limiting than most. For example, a game that turns up for auction every other month, and routinely sells for over $200, is not, in my estimation, rare. Much sought-after, perhaps, but not rare, an absolute term that is unrelated to demand.

Truly rare games that are not in demand can be acquired quite inexpensively, and this phenomenon is called a Berg’s Paradox, after the person who first noted its existence. Conversely, truly rare games that are in demand by more than one person can result in unheard-of bids. Modesty, and my preference for Nortons, prevents me from referring to this phenomenon Kula’s Triumph.

There is a vast difference between an accumulator and a collector. The chicken’s contribution to bacon and eggs is less personal and final than the pig’s. And the wolf running after the rabbit is running for its lunch whereas the rabbit is running for its life. The accumulator wants the game if (and only if) it can be obtained at a favorable price but the collector wants it, unconditionally.

Clearly, there is a difference in motives. The accumulator is more concerned with getting a good deal, and is prepared to flip the game, or sell it once its value increases sufficiently to produce a handsome profit with bragging rights. On the other hand, the collector will pay any price for a game he wants, and will never part with it once he has it.

Bearing these motives in mind, then, it is easy to see that a collector can become quite rabid and single-minded when he has an opportunity to acquire a game that is on his want list. You can therefore imagine what happens to a collector who is presented with an opportunity to acquire a game that he needs, and that he didn’t even realize until that moment that he needed.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence ... the moment when a Berg’s Paradox is unmasked. And the energy released by this unmasking is sufficient to create at least one black hole in the immediate vicinity of this universe. A collector has no interest in the fact that the price he paid for one game could have paid for the ten most expensive games listed in Boone. This is irrelevant, tangential and bordering on illogical, and anyway, he may already have seven of those ten games. All he knows is that the only thing standing between him and a more complete collection is a quantity of money.

This is neither the time nor the place to become embroiled in a discussion of the socio-psychological background to collecting. All that is necessary is to recognize that a collector is driven by the need to complete and fulfill, to achieve the goals he set for himself. On the other hand, an accumulator takes a much more sanguine approach. Who is right? I put it to you that that’s an inappropriate question ... they are both right, for their own reasons, and in the end, that’s all that counts.

JZ Game Analysis