During a lull in my college studies, I found myself wandering through the recommended titles Amazon. It brought me to a book called Bushido: Way of the Samurai, claiming to be the first English translation of the Hagakure. I jumped on it immediately. I have no idea whether or not this is a faithful translation, not knowing Japanese, but I can say that it made for a fascinating read. It was a small section of societal expectations from 18th century Japan – and I read the entire book the day it arrived at my door. I’d always been curious about samurai culture and ethic, but after reading this book I wanted more.
The details of what was and wasn’t considered part of the code changed over the centuries, but there are generally considered seven virtues stressed. They are rectitude, courage, mercy, respect, honesty, honor, and loyalty. There is a universality to these virtues, and, as such, you’ll see samurai, actual or metaphorical, embodied in an ever-growing number of stories. Seven Samurai – a story about seven samurai who agree to defend a village about to be attacked by raiders while having nothing to gain themselves – has become so iconic that it’s spawned an entire genre of narrative. The Magnificent Seven makes it a western, Samurai 7 is an anime set in a world that is a bizarre mix of science fiction and feudal sensibilities, and Samurai Spirit made it a board game.
The game has you playing as one (or two in the solo variant) of the aforementioned samurai. It adds a fantasy element to it, as each samurai is given an animal spirit form that increases their innate abilities, but the game’s story line is mostly the same as the original story. Bandits are raiding a village. The players must band together to defend it, or the fiends will most likely burn it to the ground. Facing terrible odds, and more than likely staring death in the face, will you give up everything to defend people you hardly know?
I love this game for its puzzle-like nature. Each turn you face a bandit. It has an attack value that pushes you towards your limit. It also has the potential to have lingering effects later on. If the combined attack value of all the bandits you’ve fought is higher than your samurai’s value, you’re down for the round and unable to help your friends. And they will definitely need you.
Every samurai is responsible to defend the villagers, the buildings, and yourself – moving one card of each special symbol to the left of your character card. Each turn you decide if you’ll fight the bandit, defend the village, or support your fellow samurai, and have I mentioned that the number of bandits you’ll be facing is seven times the number of samurai in play?
If this game sounds hard, it’s because it is. The game is played over three rounds, and every round, even every TURN you can potentially be taking hits, losing defenses, and going further into a spiral of defeat. It’s possible to come back and win if one of the samurai is knocked down, but it’s difficult. It’s possible to let your defenses slip a bit, but too much and your round will be a challenge.
After losing so many games of solo Samurai Spirit I can no longer count them, you may ask why I love it as much as I do. It’s especially odd since I’ve made it known that solo gaming really isn’t my style. I thought about that too after a session that included four back-to-back solo plays. I like a puzzle, but that wasn’t it. It’s how the game makes me dance on the needle-thin line between self-sacrifice and self preservation. It wasn’t simply a question of stepping between the villain and the villager – it was making sure I wasn’t destroyed before all the villains were dealt with.
There was a game Kikuchiyo was dead because I thought I had to be the unshakable brick wall or all was lost. It was his desire, his reason for being there, the whole purpose of the game. However, pushed so far and spread thin – he couldn’t actually do what he wanted to so desperately. So where is the line in the sand? How far do you push before it all collapses around you? If you do nothing, than you remain safe. You’ll likely see tomorrow, but the village and its people won’t. If you throw everything at the goal without stopping or rest, you’ll die, and the village will burn around you.
The road of service hurts. It’s the nature of the path. The road is long and filled with terrors, and those of us who choose it go in knowing that’s the case. As such, even the strongest of us stumble sometimes at what it requires of us.
When I mentioned the Bushido code earlier, I talked about expectation rather than reality. The ability to dedicate oneself entirely to a cause without rest, weariness, or failure is not only difficult. It’s impossible. The fight will try to take everything and give you nothing in return.
In the original story, most of the samurai didn’t see tomorrow. Spending almost a year now in the nonprofit world, I can relate to that. Balancing the work/rest life of service is hard. I want to do another project, set up another game day, contact another church. Spending time with my wife or our friends can happen later. Sleep is for the weak. Right? Figuring out when to face your foe and when to let them pass in order to face three more then next day is a puzzle. You can’t do it alone, but then neither did they.
Service can leave you bloody, spent, and leave fewer of you than you started. And yet, there is something beautiful about doing it. Allowing someone who thought their world was over to have another day of honest labor leading to well earned rest. It is the balance of knowing when to take up the fight, and when to conserve yourself for those yet to come.
Fight when you must. Rest when you can. Acknowledge your weaknesses – but don’t let them have the final word.