Let me take a shot in the dark.
You’re reading this blog post, so you’re probably a prospective student of Oberlin College. What’s more, I’d bet a Slow Train scone that you’re planning to visit Oberlin’s campus in the next month or so for All Roads Lead to Oberlin. And if you do, and you look in the right places, you might just see a poster or hear a conversation about ObieGame. I know I did, back when I was a prospie. In fact, I remember exactly where I first learned of the existence of this mysterious organization.
I had just stepped into the hallowed halls of Peters for the first time, with the rest of my tour group, and while I’m sure the tour guide was saying something about something, my attention had been drawn away by the grandeur of my surroundings. And, when I had finished looking around in awe at the beautiful wood carvings on the balconies above me, my gaze drifted to the posters on the walls—I had learned from prior college visits that the posters don’t lie—and that’s where I spotted it. A small, black flyer, with an assortment of cryptic text and a simple header: ObieGame.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but that mysterious flyer never stopped lurking in the back of my mind. It stayed there when I committed to Oberlin, and all through the trials and tribulations of my first semester as a college student—and they were many—all the way until the spring, when posters of a very similar nature began appearing on billboards and in hallways. It seemed the season was beginning again, and this time, I was determined to uncover the secrets of this mysterious cabal. So I signed on with a team and headed to the first event of the semester with my most detectivelike hat, ready to follow the clues, solve the puzzles, and save the world.
Unfortunately, my classes had other plans. You see, I was still under the optimistic impression that there was no limit to the number of activities I was capable of engaging in simultaneously. As it turned out, my time was limited, and I just didn’t have the room in my schedule for music theory, excos, orchestra, and saving the world. Something would have to give, and so I left the mysteries of Timmy the Time mountain in the capable hands of my team and focused on saving my sleep schedule. Next year, I told myself. Next year, I would be ready.
And so the earth spun on through space, and the seasons came and went, until the first new buds of spring were burgeoning on the trees in Tappan Square, and the crimson pennants of All Roads were flapping once more on the lampposts in North Quad, and familiar posters began appearing in the hallways again.
I could claim that as a wise and worldly second-year, I had uncovered the secrets of proper time management by now, and so I had no trouble at all slipping Obiegame into my schedule. Maybe you would even believe me. But while the secrets of the balanced schedule escape me to this day, the secrets of Obiegame were too tantalizing to ignore. So I signed on with a team, donned my most witchy hat, and headed off to decipher the mysteries of the occult.
And that’s how I ended up hiding in the bushes in the King courtyard, trying to steal the spellbook of a cabal of evil witches. Not the kind of thing you do every day, but despite the risk of death by unspeakable dark magic, I found myself loving every minute. From the eccentric characters to the thrill of esoteric espionage to the satisfaction of a puzzle’s solution clicking into place in my mind, Obiegame was the perfect antidote to the fatigue of a long semester, and a unique kind of fun that I hadn’t known I was missing.
And when the game was over, when the evil witches were defeated and there were no more riddles left to unravel, I found myself wanting more. So I waited, as spring turned to summer, autumn to winter, and the earth spun on through space and time. And eventually, the snow retreated from the weather forecast, and the sun came out, and the telltale gaggles of prospective students returned to campus. And if you’re one of those students, and you happen to see me heading somewhere with my most businesslike hat and a stack of cryptic posters under my arm…
Well, now you know why.
