Growing up, there were a lot of things I assumed would be a huge problem in my adult life; quicksand, long division, spontaneously catching fire and needing to execute the perfect "stop, drop, and roll," to name a few. But all of these pale in comparison to the problems I thought I would face crossing the Oregon Trail, trading with friendly Native American tribes, and avoiding Consumption. Wait - what's that you say?
"Sweet child, you were born years after the last pioneers hitched a wagon and headed westward!" Why yes, dear reader, this is a true fact. What I am referring to is the PC game that stole hours from our childhood during elementary school computer class. What a reprieve this game was from playing Typing Tutor, or making Excel spreadsheets about how many people in your class were born in December. You got to play a computer game - during class! HOW NEAT IS THAT?
"Seems doable"
It's a weird game to market to children, because not many children were trail blazers on the actual Oregon trail, leading us to believe that most children do not have the mental or emotional capacity to lead this kind of expedition, crazy right? Wrong. It's a game that required serious decision making and consequences. If you make the wrong decision, people die, no jokes about it. Here's why The Oregon Trail demanded too much from our tiny brains.
1. The first decision you have to make is how much food, supplies, medicine, and travel equipment you're going to buy for a journey that will take about 5-6 months. You have to make smart decisions about food, rationing, and bargaining. Keep in mind you've never been to the grocery store without your mom before.
2. You set off on the trail with 500 pounds of bacon, three bags of candy, four oxen, and nothing else - seems about right. You've named everyone in your group, so now you have an emotional connection and responsibility for them. Hammy, a sprightly 8-year-old who's looking forward to the adventure, seems particularly ill-fated.
3. Immediately things go awry and a wheel breaks, since you bought no extra wheels you have to trade supplies with a local Native American Tribe.
4. The tribe isn't friendly and blames you for stealing their land and giving them smallpox. You are nine. You feel the burden of your ancestors past mistakes.
5. With a broken wheel, you slowly make your way through the plains of the midwest. You're growing low on supplies.
6. TIME TO HUNT, you kill the game, literally and figuratively, you're so excited to bring this prime meat back to your group, until the reminder pops up "you have shot 2,500 pounds of meat, but were only able to carry 20 pounds back to your camp. If you continue to hunt in this area, food will become scarce."
You are the sole reason for the endangerment of a species
7. The meat is gone in a day, and the plant you gathered was poison hemlock.
8. "What is this game?" you think, as Agatha in your group contracts cholera, and you're supposed to know how to cure them (hope for the best).
9. Agatha has died - morality becomes real to you for the first time in your young life. You're given the option to bury the body or leave it on the side of the trail. (To the makers of the game - really?)
The "serious consequences" to not burying your dead will hang over your head forever.
10. You come across a river, do you ford it, caulk the wagons and float, or build a raft and float? (Hint: it doesn't matter, it will sink)
Take note there is no gif for a successful crossing
11. You lose more supplies, and Jerome has drowned. (RIP Jerome, we hardly knew ya)
12. Your 9-year-old mind thinks fearfully; "how can there be so much death in the world?" as the remaining three members of your group contract typhoid, dysentery, and a snake bite respectively.
13. Hammy, the 8-year-old you brought on the trip, takes "a turn for the worse", and you're helpless to fix his dysentery because you have no idea what that word means.
14. Hammy has died, the brave little toaster has fallen.
15. Group morale is low, and winter's coming.
16. Frostbite wipes out the remainder of your group, and one of your oxen, which you butcher for meat because you're a savage bent on survival - nothing has caused you more stress in your life than this game.
17. Looking back, you regret buying so much bacon, and not, say, one winter coat. Like, Ithacus, you flew too close to the sun.
Oh, how I should have listened.
18. Now it's your turn; you and your one ox make it to the Rockies - a solitary journey between man and beast. Suddenly, you catch the flu.
19. Two days later, you're dead, and no one is there to bury your body. (The game reminds you of this).
Note: this is the most popular photo relating to the game.
20. You get up from the computer lab, blinking into the harsh light of day, contemplating the true meaninglessness and futility of your life, before heading out on the playground to play tag.
So yeah, you could say I'm a little bummed that after all the trauma Oregon Trail put me through as a child, it's never really been "relevant" in my day to day life. But I'll never forget the lessons it taught me, just in case I run into a rattlesnake, need to ford a river, or even contract cholera. And I'll never ever, forget dear sweet Hammy, my sweet summer child taken by the winter.
