The Microsoft Hearts Network, or “Hearts,” while carelessly thrown into the Games folder with mere run-of-the-mill diversions, is a fine game deserving of occupying its very own folder. You may have passed over it for the lonely procrastinator’s favorite, Solitaire, the migraine-inducing Minesweeper, the not-without-its-charm Space Cadet Pinball or even for the tragically impoverished Freecell. But Hearts has a QPI far exceeding its less intelligent classmates and has proven, at least to this professor of postponement, that it deserves to be at the head of its class.
Hearts, at glance one, is alluring in its simple design. The background is basic?forest green with the player names in black, reminiscent of ants at a childhood picnic. You are greeted first by a prompt that asks you for your name. It is welcoming; it wants to get to know you. Pinball never seems terribly interested in my feelings; even if I want to play first thing in the morning, it slaps me in the face with a cacophony of bleeps and clicks that it claims are an essential part of launching into outer orbit.
The sound effects for Hearts, although not particularly melodious, only occur twice per hand and do not dominate the game. A brief sound clip of smashing glass notifies the players that the suit of hearts had been broken, although it may be your heart breaking if you’ve picked up too many. The queen’s entrance is heralded by a deep, slow “boing” that sounds like a comment a bouncy ball might make while witnessing something confusing.
The first time I played Hearts, I entered my name in caps and with an exclamation point, “MIKE!,” so I would make a strong impression on the regulars: Pauline, Michele and Ben. I knew I’d made quite the splash when their names appeared in lowercase. Thirteen cards were laid out in front of me and I began to play by passing three high clubs to Pauline who wins consistently, often “shooting the moon” (when one player wins all the hearts and the queen of spades, getting zero points and giving opponents 26). I managed to avoid the dreaded 13-point spade queen, thanks to Ben, who can’t tell a club from a turkey club, but picked up all of the hearts because of Michele’s incessant scheming. Pauline the machine ended up winning big, shooting the moon twice in a row.
The characters in Hearts also have the bonus feature of being renamable. Nowadays, I play against Paulie Walnuts, a tag team of Rasputin and Churchill, and, in slot three, a rotating cast of international and personal enemies. I don’t win all the time, but as long as I lose with a better score than the latter, it is a happy day.
Unlike games of Hearts found online, Microsoft’s PC version does not insult your intelligence by giving your computer opponents cartoony faces that grimace when they land the queen or gloat when they shoot the moon. Here, they are polite, quiet, as respectful in victory as they are in defeat. They always defer to you, playing at the speed of your choosing, (fast, normal or slow), they never tell you to put a shirt on when it gets too stuffy upstairs and they don’t mind your taking bathroom breaks, even in the middle of a hand.
It is not in the plethora of options, however, that Hearts succeeds, but in the lack thereof. It’s easy to lose precious hours of your life if you get caught in the optional feature menu of Solitaire. As if your choice of 12 mostly gaudy deck designs (Dracula’s castle ain’t bad) isn’t enough of an assault on the senses, a battery of questions is also in the cards: Draw one or draw three? Timed game? Status bar? Standard scoring? Vegas scoring? No scoring??? Like an attention-starved toddler, Solitaire nags you until you want to stab a fork into it, lock it in the closet and run away half laughing, half crying.
Freecell delivers similar homicidal ideation. It is the happy marriage between the format of Solitaire and the ease of adding into theater classes at Georgetown. After you get the basic idea, winning is a foregone conclusion. As you blow through game after game, you feel as though this may be life’s calling, perhaps you are a Freecell savant, destined for distinction from the ungifted, bleating masses. But the delusion withers; it dawns quickly that the satisfaction lies not in defeating an ancient, worthy foe, but in the fleeting pleasure of small accomplishment; like finishing chapters of Mr. Popper’s Penguins, or dropping rocks from a pier into water. Do yourself a favor and keep Freecell under lock and key.
The aforementioned 3D Space Cadet Pinball offers Hearts its only real competition for your time continuum. The game is filled with polychromatic flashing lights, tinny space shuttle sound effects and an eerie, other-worldly-yet-aesthetically-pleasing color scheme: You can play in 4 by 5 inch format or in glorious full-screen mode. Besides racking up points the traditional way (by hitting hubs and panels, going up ramps, etc.), you are given tasks to accomplish around the table, some more difficult than others. But for all these seemingly harmless cosmic capers and intergalactic challenges, it develops into too much of a commitment. Pinball is a very needy game; it’s the smothering high school significant other that never left you alone. Hearts, on the other hand, is undemanding; it doesn’t mind your comings and goings; it’s your friendly, flightly, Friday-night lover. Quick to start, quick to play and quick to end, it is a harmless and non-consequential, yet satisfying procrastinatory relationship.
Hearts does not take over your life; it shows you the correct way to lead it. Indeed, it is a modern day metaphor for success, displaying how combining a proper balance of risk taking, biding one’s time and shirking responsibility will lead you to eventual victory. And when victory comes, even though I may dance, point, and sing in premeditated celebration, Steven, Grigori, Winston and Oprah sit there silently, computer arms folded, facelessly waiting for me to return and for the opportunity to break my hearts and boing my queen away.
Mike Lavoie is a senior in the College. He is looking for Mike Lavoie ‘06 so they can shake hands and explode.
