Play
The folding center-seamed game board illustrated with characters and scenes from the books is opened and placed upon a flat surface. The two decks of cards are shuffled independently and both placed within reach of the players. Each player selects one of the four counters and places it on Uncle Wiggily's Bungalow in the lower left hand corner of the game board. The order of play is determined.
The first player draws a card from the yellow deck. He follows the card's directions (which are set in lines of rhyming verse) for advancing his counter along the track, or, if instructed, draws a card from the red deck and follows its instruction. In general, the yellow cards either have the player advance a number of spaces or draw a red card, (e.g., Peetie Bow Wow helps Uncle Wiggily along four hops) which can either direct the player to move a higher number of spaces forward (up to 15) or move up to five spaces backward.
Should the player's counter land upon a space that directs him to move further, he obeys its instruction. Play continues in a similar fashion until one player reaches Dr. Possum's House at the end of the track in the upper right hand corner of the game board.
Read more about this topic: Uncle Wiggily (board Game)
Famous quotes containing the word play:
“We all know that the theater and every play that comes to Broadway have within themselves, like the human being, the seed of self-destruction and the certainty of death. The thing is to see how long the theater, the play, and the human being can last in spite of themselves.”
—James Thurber (1894–1961)
“To save the theatre, the theatre must be destroyed, the actors and actresses must all die of the plague. They poison the air, they make art impossible. It is not drama that they play, but pieces for the theatre. We should return to the Greeks, play in the open air: the drama dies of stalls and boxes and evening dress, and people who come to digest their dinner.”
—Eleonora Duse (1858–1924)
“James’s great gift, of course, was his ability to tell a plot in shimmering detail with such delicacy of treatment and such fine aloofness—that is, reluctance to engage in any direct grappling with what, in the play or story, had actually “taken place”Mthat his listeners often did not, in the end, know what had, to put it in another way, “gone on.””
—James Thurber (1894–1961)