The Game of Life is one of the greatest and most flawed games of my childhood. While it was fun to play, including little cars with little people you got to add along the way, the “spinner” was infuriating. Maybe they’ve changed the design so you can roll a pair of dice, or just randomly decide how many spaces you want to move. But back in the day, you had to struggle with the spinner that didn’t quite spin, or made you look like an idiot when it flew off the board.

But there’s an even better version of The Game of Life. It’s called, well, life. Last summer ABC ran a series exploring how people work together to achieve common goals. The basis for the exploration was the tenets of game theory.

Groups were given challenges like finding each other in Washington, D.C. The catch was they couldn’t communicate with one another, and hadn’t even met. How do you find someone when the only piece of information you have is that they are looking for you? You have to think like them. Where would they go if they were trying to find you. The only way you are successful is if that ends up being the same place.

It was interesting to watch the different groups decide on different monuments and landmarks. If you arrive at the White House, and no one is there, do you wait? Or do you try someplace else? What if you wait there, another group is waiting at the capitol and another is waiting at the Washington Monument? Most of the groups eventually met up at the latter, while the worst of them gave up and went to a bar in Georgetown. Humans.

It was from that show that I went out looking for a book on Game Theory. “The Survival Game” by David Barash was my choice, and I finally cracked it open this week.

It turns out that in a lot of situations there isn’t one “right” way to approach things. In many instances, you can minimize your losses with a particular strategy but at the expense of losing out on your ultimate payoff. And in many cases our brains get in the way by injecting feelings into the decision-making process.

One interesting example involves a simple game where two people are given $100. The first person gets to decide how to divide the money and the second decides whether to accept the deal. If they reject the deal, both get nothing. So the first person should propose $50/$50 right? Nope. They should try $99/$1. The second person is better off with $1 than with $0, so they should take the deal no matter how unfair it seems. Yet studies show people would rather walk away with nothing, and stick it to the person trying to get $99 out of the deal.

If you’ve never had any experience with game theory, and don’t like math, this is definitely a good introduction to the topic without making you want to slam your face into a wall. Barash definitely uses plain language in the discussion. In breaking down why species tend to have roughly 50/50 splits in males and females, he talks about the advantages for those wanting to mate. If there are too many males, the species is likely to produce more females who will have many mates to choose from. When things swing back the other way (too many females), more males come into play until everything eventually comes into balance. But if given the choice many families may choose a male to carry on the family name, even if it is ultimately detrimental to the species as a whole. “You could just as well try explaining to a mallard drake why he should be a gentleman instead of a rapist.” Oh, I also learned that mallard ducks are apparently prone to gang raping females. Who knew?

Maybe the most interesting example is the Game of Chicken. Two cars barrel at one another until one swerves, both swerve, or of course neither swerves. Barash argues that the best strategy is to thoroughly convince the other person you are completely unwilling or unable to swerve, thus making their choice obvious to get out of the way. He recommends raving like a lunatic and running around screaming before the race. Then once you are hurtling at a high speed, throw the steering wheel out the window. You’d swerve if you saw that right?

Next up: “The Last Lecture” by Randy Pausch.