Games Around the World: Why We Play What We Play

Games Around the World: Why We Play What We Play

Honestly, if you look at a group of kids in a dusty alley in Cairo and then watch a group of teenagers in a high-tech PC bang in Seoul, you’re seeing the exact same human impulse. We play. It’s what we do. But games around the world aren't just about entertainment; they are a weird, beautiful mirror of geography, history, and how much free time we actually have. You might think "gaming" means a PlayStation 5 or a Nintendo Switch, but for most of human history—and for millions of people right now—it’s about a handful of seeds, some chalk on pavement, or a deck of cards that’s been shuffled so many times the edges are soft.

People get this wrong all the time. They think globalization has made everything the same. It hasn't.

Culture is stubborn. Even as Roblox takes over the planet, the way a kid in Brazil plays a "global" game is fundamentally different from how a kid in Japan approaches it. There’s a specific "local flavor" that tech hasn't managed to erase yet. Let’s talk about what’s actually happening on the ground.

The Physicality of Play: Beyond the Screen

Before we had fiber-optic cables, we had gravity and dirt. Take Mancala. It’s arguably one of the oldest games in existence, with roots stretching back to ancient Africa and the Near East. You’ve probably seen it—a wooden board with pits and small stones or seeds. But here’s the thing: it’s not just one game. It’s a family of hundreds of games like Oware in Ghana or Congkak in Malaysia.

The math is complex. It’s about "sowing" and "capturing," and it requires a level of mental calculation that would make a Sudoku enthusiast sweat. In many communities, it wasn't just a pastime; it was a way to settle disputes or train leaders in strategy.

Then you have Sepak Takraw. If you haven't seen this in Southeast Asia, you're missing out on peak human athleticism. Imagine volleyball, but you can’t use your hands. You use your feet, knees, and chest to send a rattan ball over a net. It is brutal and beautiful. It tells you everything you need to know about the importance of physical grace and community in countries like Thailand and Malaysia. You don't play this alone. You can't. It requires a collective rhythm.

Why Geography Dictates the Rules

Ever wonder why Northern Europe loves heavy, complex board games? It’s the weather. Seriously.

When it’s dark and freezing for six months of the year, you sit inside. You develop games like Hnefatafl (Viking Chess), which evolved into the massive "Eurogame" industry we see today. Germany is the undisputed king here. The Spiel des Jahres (Game of the Year) award is basically the Oscars of the board game world.

Contrast that with the games around the world found in warmer climates. There, play is often public and loud. In Latin America, Ludo or Parchís is frequently played on sidewalks. In India, Carrom—a tabletop game that’s like a mix of billiards and air hockey—is a staple of social clubs and street corners.

  • Pachisi: The "National Game of India." It’s the ancestor of Ludo and Sorry!, but the original version is much more cutthroat.
  • Mahjong: China’s gift to the world of social strategy. It’s loud. The clack of the tiles is part of the experience. It’s about pattern recognition, but also about reading the "vibe" of the other players.
  • Petanque: Walk through any park in France and you’ll see older men throwing metal balls. It’s slow. It’s social. It’s the antithesis of a fast-paced video game.

The Digital Divide and the Mobile Revolution

We have to talk about the phone. For a huge portion of the population, a "gaming device" isn't a console; it's a budget Android smartphone. This has shifted the landscape of games around the world more than anything else in the last twenty years.

In Brazil and India, Free Fire isn't just a game; it's a cultural phenomenon. Why? Because it runs on "potato phones." It’s accessible. It’s the digital version of a neighborhood pickup game of soccer.

Meanwhile, in Japan, the "Gacha" mechanic—where you spend currency for a random chance at a character—dominates. It’s rooted in the history of capsule toy machines (Gashapon). It’s a very specific psychological hook that works incredibly well in a culture that values collecting and "luck of the draw."

What We Get Wrong About Cultural Games

A common misconception is that traditional games are "dying out." They aren't. They’re just morphing.

I was reading a study by the International Journal of Play that noted how traditional street games in Turkey are being adapted into digital formats by local indie developers. They aren't trying to copy Call of Duty; they’re trying to digitize the feeling of playing Aşık (a game played with sheep bones).

Also, we tend to think of "Eastern" games as being more meditative and "Western" games as being more aggressive. That’s a total myth. Go watch a high-stakes Mahjong game in a backroom in Chengdu or a StarCraft II tournament in Seoul. The aggression is there; it’s just channeled through different systems of logic and social etiquette.

The Hidden Logic of Regional Favorites

Why is Cricket a game in some places and a religion in others? Why did Backgammon stick so hard in the Middle East and Mediterranean?

  1. Trade Routes: Games followed merchants. The Silk Road was basically a highway for game design.
  2. Colonialism: The British brought Cricket and Football (Soccer) everywhere. The locals took them, changed the rules, and eventually started beating the British at their own games.
  3. Resource Availability: You play with what you have. In the Arctic, traditional Inuit games like the "High Kick" were designed to test physical endurance and provide entertainment in confined spaces using nothing but a suspended piece of fur.

The Survival of the Fittest (Rules)

Games evolve through a kind of natural selection. If a game is too boring, people stop playing. If it's too complicated, they can't teach it to their kids. The games around the world that survive are the ones that strike a perfect balance between "simple to learn" and "impossible to master."

Take Go (Weiqi). It has two rules. Literally just two. Yet, it is infinitely more complex than Chess. Computers struggled to beat human masters at Go long after they had conquered Chess because Go requires a type of intuitive, spatial thinking that is uniquely human—or at least, it was until Google's AlphaGo came along in 2016.

How to Experience These Games Yourself

You don't need a plane ticket to explore these cultural touchstones. If you want to actually understand the diversity of play, you have to move past the "Top 10" lists on the App Store.

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Go to a local immigrant community center. Often, you'll find people playing Dominoes (very different styles between Caribbean and American play) or Xiangqi (Chinese Chess).

Check out Tabletop Simulator. There are thousands of mods that recreate obscure board games from every corner of the globe. It’s a cheap way to see how a person in 15th-century Korea might have spent their Friday night.

Look for "Print and Play" versions. Many traditional games don't have a "brand." They belong to the world. You can find the board layouts for Royal Game of Ur or Senet online for free.

Actionable Steps for the Curious Gamer

  • Audit your library: Look at your current games. Are they all from the same three Western or Japanese publishers? If so, look for "Global South" developers on platforms like Itch.io.
  • Learn one "Seed" game: Buy a Mancala board. It costs ten bucks. Learn the rules of Oware. It will change how you think about resource management.
  • Host a "Global Play" night: Instead of Poker, try Pusoy Dos (Filipino Poker). The rules are different enough to break your brain in a good way.
  • Research the "Why": Next time you play a game, ask: What does this game reward? Speed? Memory? Deception? The answer usually tells you something about the culture that created it.

Games are the only universal language we have left that isn't tied to money or politics. When two people sit across a board or a screen, they agree to a shared reality. They agree that, for the next twenty minutes, these specific rules matter more than anything else. That’s a powerful thing. It’s why, despite all our differences, you can find a version of "Tag" or "Hide and Seek" in every single culture on Earth. We are all just trying to find a way to make the world a little more interesting for a while.


Key Takeaways for Your Next Session

Understanding the history of these activities isn't just a history lesson. It makes you a better player. You start to see the "DNA" of modern mechanics in ancient rituals. You realize that "leveling up" is just a digital version of the social prestige found in master-level Go rankings.

If you want to dive deeper, check out the work of Johan Huizinga, particularly his book Homo Ludens. He argues that play is actually the primary basis of all human culture. Everything else—law, war, art—came after we figured out how to play. That's a big claim, but the more you look at the world, the more it feels like he was onto something. Play isn't a distraction from life. It is the core of it.