Race Game is a pencil and paper game, involving the pencil flick action.
On a sheet of paper, draw the outline of a circle or oval. It does not have to be perfectly circular, and some unevenness can improve the game. Now draw another circle or oval inside that, more or less concentric with gap of one or two centimetres between the two. This produces a loop of "track".
Now draw a line anywhere across the two lines. This is the starting marker. A player starts by putting the point of a pen (or pencil) on the starting marker, placing their palm on top of it, and pushing it only using the palm of their hand. It should draw a short line before the pen slips. Where this line stops is the next starting point. If a player goes outside the path, they next start where their pencil left the track. The winner is the first to complete a lap.
Any number of players can play, using differently coloured pens, if required.
Famous quotes containing the words race, game and/or pencil:
“As a thinker and planner, the ant is the equal of any savage race of men; as a self-educated specialist in several arts, she is the superior of any savage race of men; and in one or two high mental qualities she is above the reach of any man, savage or civilized.”
—Mark Twain [Samuel Langhorne Clemens] (1835–1910)
“In the game of “Whist for two,” usually called “Correspondence,” the lady plays what card she likes: the gentleman simply follows suit. If she leads with “Queen of Diamonds,” however, he may, if he likes, offer the “Ace of Hearts”: and, if she plays “Queen of Hearts,” and he happens to have no Heart left, he usually plays “Knave of Clubs.””
—Lewis Carroll [Charles Lutwidge Dodgson] (1832–1898)
“Then, bringing me the joy we feel when wee see a work by our favorite painter which differs from any other that we know, or if we are led before a painting of which we have until then only seen a pencil sketch, if a musical piece heard only on the piano appears before us clothed in the colors of the orchestra, my grandfather called me the [hawthorn] hedge at Tansonville, saying, “You who are so fond of hawthorns, look at this pink thorn, isn’t it lovely?””
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)