Mandatory Fun

Breaking down walls one game at a time

No one believed "mandatory fun" was actually mandatory—until they missed game night. Every month, whether they liked it or not, we played together.

Our quietest developer, who spent days buried in Python, turned out to be a bowling champion. Three strikes in a row, each followed by the same modest shrug. The analyst who rarely spoke in meetings cracked riddles that stumped our Stanford PhDs. Even our most buttoned-up product researcher discovered her talent for Mario Kart trash talk, gleefully pelting the team with blue shells.

In these moments, something shifts. People stop being colleagues. Real personalities emerge. Not through trust falls or offsite workshops—just through play. The boundaries between senior and junior, tech and business, dissolve into laughter. Teams that once worked in silence now solve problems over lunch. Projects that stalled in formal meetings find breakthroughs during game breaks.

Years later, watching my two young kids, I recognize the same pattern. What I once forced as policy now unfolds naturally at home. My daughter's unexpected "I love you" feels like those first genuine smiles breaking through at game night. My infant's midnight giggles remind me how quickly defenses melt away.

We think we can schedule connection or manufacture belonging. But real bonds form when we stop performing our roles—at work, at home, everywhere—and simply play.

The transformation is worth the resistance. Sometimes the most meaningful moments arrive right after someone mutters "do we have to?"