
Opinion
This EA FC victim came back for more – only to be filled with regret once again
by Luca Fontana

When you’re playing a game, the rules are non-negotiable. In real life, however, rules only apply as long as they’re not getting in the way of influential people.
If you’re playing a board game, you accept the rules. Because without the rules, there’s no game. The rules are disclosed to all players, apply to everyone in the same way and leave no room for interpretation – no matter what a player’s status or connections are. This is fundamental for a game to be fair or even playable.
If someone cheats, this is no longer the case. Not because one of the players has lost, but because the common ground has been destroyed. Breaking the rules is visible, unambiguous and non-negotiable. The game’s paused to discuss, correct or break off. In this setting, fairness isn’t an abstract idea – it’s a requirement. Without fairness, there’s no game, just chaos.
In a game, rules aren’t patronising – they’re a condition. They allow players to make decisions, take risks, come up with strategies and accept failure. Only because boundaries are set do actions have meaning. Nobody perceives this as unfair.
With board games, the rules aren’t just disclosed, they’re verifiable. Taking extra money from the bank in Monopoly, counting resources incorrectly in Catan or keeping one card too many in a card game would give a player an advantage that isn’t strictly possible. The effects of this are immediate: the suspense is ruined, distrust is created and the game loses its point.
While games allow you to take risks, bluff, deceive other players or make aggressive moves, you can only do so within a clearly defined framework. Courage is part of the game, cheating is not. This separation isn’t moral, but mechanical, and precisely what makes games interesting. Players have a long leash, but not total freedom. Freedom that comes with the limiting factors, not despite them.
In the real world, many systems work in the exact opposite way. Rules are often not put in place to ensure fairness, but to manage power. They’re complex, difficult to access and riddled with exceptions. This ensures that some people won’t be able to understand them as well or won’t be able to apply them as well. Those with money, power or legal expertise, however, will easily slip through loopholes without ever openly breaking the rules.
When corporations move profits to tax havens, it’s called optimisation. When a few suppliers dominate entire markets, it’s considered a business success. When apartments are left empty when housing is scarce, it’s justified by calling it a legitimate investment. Rule breaking is masked with technical terms, grey areas and years of proceedings.
It’s astonishing that rules can have different consequences, but even more so that we accept this fact. While players of a game share a common interest in upholding fairness, real systems often remain stable because they’re unfair. Those who benefit will block the change. Those who lose do so because they lack power.
The comparison with games is likely to be so uncomfortable because it reveals something we prefer to ignore. Playing games is voluntary. You can drop out, end it or start again. Real life doesn’t come with these options. No one can opt out of the housing market, dodge political decisions or ignore infrastructure that’s not designed for everyone.
And precisely because there’s no escape, unjust rules weigh more heavily, making it easier to accept them as unchangeable. Not because there are no alternatives, but because changing them would harm interests.
Board games aren’t a reflection of reality. But they bring something to our attention that we tend to block out in everyday life. That rules only work if they apply to everyone. And that systems don’t fail because fairness isn’t achievable, but because fairness isn’t desirable.
I get paid to play with toys all day.
This is a subjective opinion of the editorial team. It doesn't necessarily reflect the position of the company.
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