20 November 2002 . . . Prehistoric: games seem to have been formed a mysterious consensus at this year's Essen. Did I miss a memo? The show included premiers of no fewer than five: Trias (Triassic), Carcassonne: Die Jäger und Sammler (Carcassonne: Hunters and Gatherers), Abenteuer Menschheit (The Human Adventure), Am Rande des Gletschers (At the Glacier's Edge) and Höhlengrölen (Cave Rave). Or maybe this is just the natural outcome of the visible success of predecessors Ursuppe, Evo and Urland? . . . Ten thousand or more games from the estate of late, great game designer and player Sid Sackson were recently auctioned. This has generated a large amount of controversy in the fora habituated by gamers, although, disappointingly, no notice in the mass media. In the world of games however, as the collection spreads and spreads, this event may well be remembered for years. We may eventually be talking in terms of BSA and ASA, Before Sackson Auction and After Sackson Auction. But some of the reactions to it show a rather visceral disappointment in the way the matter has been handled. Feelings so strong raise the possibility of an unspoken subtext. By all accounts Mr. Sackson was very personable and interested in all games, not just his own. In short, he gave the impression of being "one of us". In the creation of his collection he was certainly one of us, for which gaming fan does not carefully aim at shaping what he considers the perfect collection? Deciding which game to acquire and which can be omitted. Delighting in those few rare finds and the stories that go along with their acquisitions. Those that have been retained for sentimental reasons only, perhaps never even being played any more. For a gamer, the collection is a very significant and personal matter. Being one of the first to do it, and by amassing one of the largest collections known, Mr. Sackson achieved the status of ur-Gamer, a sort of first among equals. How disappointing then for any of his virtual comrades to see what became of his hallowed collection, broken up and scattered to the four winds merely for the sake of money. It raises serious personal questions. If even the best of us is unable to preserve his collection – his work of art that required a lifetime to complete – what hope is there for the rest of us? Is it too much to suggest that in a way each of these collections is like a child? Always growing, developing and being nurtured by a loving parent. It cannot be a happy thought for any of us that our masterpiece too will one day be broken up and destroyed forever. . . .
