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| The Greatest F*ckin' Game Ever |
Whenever I take a moment to reflect on my childhood, some of the greatest memories, in one way or another, almost always revolved around a board game. Some of my first recollections are of me crying and hitting my sisters because I was mad over not having all the marbles in
Hungry Hungry Hippo and finding other random balls around the house and trying to pass them off as
Hungry Hungry Hippo balls and my sisters being like "That shit ain't gonna fly" and me crying some more. We briefly dabbled in
Chutes and Ladders and
Candyland, but as we got older, our tastes graduated to much more refined games like
Girl Talk (nothing says "lady" like putting red stickers on your face and pretending they're zits) and of course the obligatory board game of any respectable 80's girl,
Sweet Valley High (I always got stuck as shitty
Enid Rollins). We didn't have time for juvenile games like
Operation or
Connect Four. That mindless shit was for amateurs and those in search of a quick, cheap thrill. Fake electrocution was not our forte. We were of a different more selective breed of gamers, and found ourselves in search of "thinking" games. Games with a plot. Games with a purpose.
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| The game board we played on |
Not to say that all we did was sit around and play board games. My two sisters and I were very creative when it came to entertaining ourselves, so we came up with cool fantasy games to play outside:
"Kidnapping" where we'd search for a pretend kidnapped kid in the neighborhood - P.S.- we never found that little bastard,
"Evidence" where we would collect useless litter from the street and formulate some sort of murder/kidnapping scenario (A sock and a cigarette butt? Someone must be dead!), which would then lead us to
"Murder On The Street" a whodunit game where we'd use our meaningless clues to pin a pretend murder on one of our poor, innocent neighbors (Their shutters are crooked! Guilty!). It was safe to say we had a morbid preoccupation with murder and death. We had watched one too many Unsolved Mysteries (
cue the scary song) and it was starting to make itself very obvious. So when the game
Clue was introduced into our lives, it was like a godsent. Death and murder, wrapped up in one beautiful little box? Say it ain't so! We would play 30 times in a row and my heart would still beat out of my chest every time that magical envelope was opened revealing the killer. Mrs. Peacock, in the ballroom, with the rope. The sound of those words were more beautiful than angels wings gently tapping against baby cherub buttcheeks. My parents would tease us because we couldn't even pronounce Colonel correctly. Instead of "kernel" we were pronouncing it "call-oh-nell" Mustard. We didn't give a rat's ass how it was pronounced. We were on a
Clue jag, not showering for days, solvin' mysteries right and left, and ridin' dirty like some badass P.I.'s. Then the cases got cold. The suspects got boring. And we were on to other endeavors. We liked the movie, but it wasn't enough to get us back into the game. And life, sadly, moved on.
Which brings us to today. And with all those great memories of
Clue rolling around in my head, I thought I'd relive my childhood for a sec and give
Clue a total revamp. Why not take all of those stale rooms from the game board and give them some real life (and real decor and style)? And while we're at it, let's pretend there is going to be a movie remake with a darker modern-day take on the story and someone awesome like
Christopher Nolan is directing? What say you? Cast the roles with awesome actors and give the characters new backstories? Why yes, yes I will accept your challenge! Plus I desperately need something to do because I tried playing "Murder on the Street" but our neighbor didn't appreciate it when I furiously rang her doorbell, held up an old Coke can and a crumpled newspaper, pointed my finger in her face and cried, "Murderer!!!!! Murrrrrrderrrrrrerrrrrrrrr!!!!!!"
THE VICTIM
DR. BLACK
An Oxford educated doctor who inherited his father's billions, Richard Black quit the profession and transformed from a continent-hopping playboy to an eccentric Gatsby-like recluse. His manse is filled with exotic collectibles from around the world, which he acquires to mask the pain of his childhood and his family's dark secret. His extravagant parties are the stuff of legend to the lucky hundred or so he calls friends, and even to a few that he doesn't. And now he’s dead.
THE SUSPECTS
PROFESSOR PLUM
Dr. Black's best friend and confidant. Stephen Plum was a sociology professor at Oxford who was popular with the students because of his good looks and unorthodox teaching methods, but he was dismissed after a scandalous "social experiment" he performed with some of his students.
COLONEL MUSTARD
A longtime friend of Dr. Black's family and a dishonorably discharged military colonel for the British Army. Col. John Mustard is more than slightly unhinged. He can always be found in full uniform because, well, he thinks he's still in the army, after all. Oh, and he has an unhealthy obsession with his guns.
MRS. PEACOCK
The neighbor of the Black family, Virginia Peacock is the snooty widow of a British aristocrat, whose husband died under very mysterious circumstances. She became like a surrogate mother to Black after his mother died. Come to think of it, his mother died mysteriously too.
MISS SCARLETT
She was poor white Alabama trash who escaped her abusive home at 17, went out West, changed her name to Sarah Scarlett and ended up as the biggest showgirl in Vegas. She's also the mistress (and rumored hitwoman) of Vegas kingpin, Mr. Green.
MRS. WHITE
Theodora White is the mysterious curator of Dr. Black's collections. No one knows her past. It's probably better that way.
MR. GREEN
Having first befriended Dr. Black back in his playboy days on the Vegas strip, Marco Green is a mafioso don turned casino entrepreneur and the most powerful man in Vegas. He owns five of the biggest casinos and he's currently hooked on his latest eye-candy, Miss Scarlett. And he occasionally kills people.
THE MANSION
Now that you know the characters, step inside...
(Yes, I'm about to take it too far - time on my hands, people)
And you can't have a movie without a poster, especially a poster with the beautifully creepy Tilda Swinton.
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