The Chippendales Board Game

Hi, readers of 1900HOTDOG! It’s Fucking Day, so let’s share the most erotic of activities: the board game. “What a sarcastic fellow,” you’re thinking, but no, warm those genitals up and look at what we’re playing:

The CHIPPENDALES AFTER HOURS GAME is a captivating adult experience for “ANY NUMBER CAN PLAY.” It was published in 1983 when men who looked like unrepentant sex criminal mugshots were not only considered handsome, but professionally handsome. It was also a time when board games had all the tactical depth of hoping you rolled a six and nothing else.

I haven’t read all the rules yet, but we’ll figure it out as we go. We both start on the CLUB square, the farthest corner from the sexy crotch which is functionally where a person exists already if they’re playing a board game about strippers.

I’ll let you go first, but before you roll, let me tell you the object of the game. We are racing to collect enough money, through acts of humiliation and nudity, to buy a set of paper cuffs and become the saddest cosplay stripper. This board game was designed to get all the men in the room naked and please take a moment to think back on all the rooms you’ve been inside and picture how many of them would have been more fun if every man was nude. What I’m saying is everyone in a group agreeing to spend their night playing board games and having a camera-ready asshole is a desperate longshot.

So to be clear, this is for square people to spawn an orgy. If you’re in a room of close friends and everyone gets naked for sexual dares and nobody starts boning, you unfuckable losers should have to introduce each other for the rest of your lives as, “These are my celibate friends, Dusty Gonads, Pointless Vulva, Sexless Urinetube, and Flaccid Tony.” You and I aren’t like that– our love will definitely be intertwined by the end of this article. Anyway, that’s a later problem. The bottom of the box says we each start with $25.

For your first turn you roll a 4 and land on CHARADE, which means…

Okay, it’s just Charades, but you get to decide what to act out and since your opponents are the ones who get money for guessing it, you’re incentivized to make sure no one can do that. In game design we call this “Fucking Stupid.” But let’s assume you’re a sportsman and act out something guessable. You’re… okay, you’re shitting your pants? Farting your pants. Farting off a boat! The Nutty Professor II: The Klumps? Let’s see… it’s not shitting your pants, so… wait, it was “shitting your pants?” THAT’S THE FIRST THING I SAID! Goddamnit, anyway, thanks for winning me ten dollars.

My turn. I roll a 3 and get GO DIRECTLY TO DANCE FLOOR. At the dance floor, the rules say…

Okay, so I stand up and dance and I have 20 seconds to convince you to buy $2 kisses from me. Hello, eight easy dollars and one piece of very chewed gum. So with my charades guess and those four kisses you bought from me I now have $43 and your fucking gum. You have $17, and to put that into perspective, the bottom of the box says the first male player to be naked down to their underpants and also have $175 is the winner. But let’s not be the first people to actually finish the CHIPPENDALES AFTER HOURS GAME. You roll a 2.

You’ve landed on PICK A MEMBERSHIP CARD, so here you go:

I believe in honest work for an honest dollar, so I’m still giving you the kisses you paid for during my turn making this card pointless. I’ll let you draw again.

This is a weird game. We’ve spent quite some time now waiting for you to define penetration with a handsome tongue in your mouth and you didn’t get a single bill of Chippendales Play Money for your troubles. You know how a game of Monopoly drags out dull game mechanics until someone loses their temper? This game does the same thing but until someone has a dick in every hole. Speaking of, to keep things moving, I think it’d be okay if you drew another MEMBERSHIP CARD.

Well, this really killed the mood, but at least you got $2 for it. You’re up to $19 and we all know a little bit more about limpness. My turn! I roll a 1 and land on TAKE IT OFF. I’m assuming that’s what it sounds like? Let’s flip over the box and look…

Way ahead of you, bottom of the box, but these are some pretty draconian stripping rules. If you don’t count things like rings and watches, every time I take an article of clothing off, I’m 50% done being naked. I admire the rush to get things going, but at the rate we’re collecting money we’re going to be balls naked five or six hours before anyone’s near a win condition. I get that’s the kind of thing that would get the designer of the CHIPPENDALES AFTER HOURS GAME to shriek, “That’s the point, THAT’S THE POINT!” Still, this game sucks and I feel like the people at this orgy are going to refer to it as “that boring orgy.”

You roll a 4 and land on KISS A PERSON OF YOUR CHOICE. Hello again, this is quite a lucky spot to land, but you still only have $19. On my turn I roll another 1 and get PICK AN AUDITION CARD. AUDITION CARDS are exactly the same thing as MEMBERSHIP CARDS, usually down to the exact wording because this game is dumb as shit, and I get…

What? “Describe ultimate experience?” I get we’re only here to be led into a fuck by a trail of poorly disguised sexual escalations, but I’m not going to dignify this with a response. “Describe ultimate experience” is something I’d expect the subtitles say in a Japanese bidet commercial starring Kevin Spacey. I’m drawing again.

This isn’t even close to what I charge for five sensual knee bends. I’m taking this as an insult and drawing again!

So it’s a dare, but it’s not clear if I dare you to do something or if you dare me to do something. The bottom of the box says…

It’s still not super clear, but I think I select a person, dare them to do anything I want, and then give them $5 if they do it. Which means this is another gameplay element incentivizing players to make the game impossible. The smart move is to dare you to give me $6 or one of your hands, but I think it’s more in the spirit of the game if I dare you “anal” and call you coward. You know what? I think I’m going to dare you to draw three hunks from the unrelated deck of Chippendales playing cards included with this board game and stare at them for 30 minutes. Here’s $5 for doing so, bringing you up to $24 and me down to $38.

As per the conditions of the dare, stare now for 30 minutes:

Something you love about me is how I love to name hunks, and the five of spades is Bunless “Star” War-Skid, who models potato recipes for vegetable photographers. The two and seven of spades are twin hunks Rash and Rosacea Rightstuff shown here obviously after they kissed so long their beards started growing in. You still have 28 minutes left to stare at them or you have to give me my $5 back.

Great work! It’s your turn, and you roll a 4 to land on the crotch space.

This does nothing, so nice crotch roll, dumbass.

It’s my turn again; I roll a 5 and land on GO DIRECTLY TO BAR. This means…

Great. I’m stuck at the bar drinking until I roll doubles. That has a 17% chance of happening, so I should be just doing that for about 6 more turns. In game design terms this is what we call “very good game design.” It’s your turn, like it probably will be for awhile, and you roll a 2 to land on PICK A MEMBERSHIP CARD. Here you go:

This is a lot of pressure on you to say anything other than “GIANT DICK GIANT DICK GIANT DICK!!!“ to polite chuckles, plus it awards you no money. At this point I’m not sure if the lack of rewards is a design decision or a mistake, but I didn’t roll doubles so it’s your turn again anyway. Let me know when you’re done, I stopped paying attention to thumb through the deck of Chippendales playing cards which, once again, have nothing to do with the game they were included with.

Bonch Groin, Five Inches for Hire.

“The man who fucked this watermelon is 7% Uzbek,” says Beef Ancestry, performing his famous party trick.

Bonch Groin scoffs. “He’s just using mirrors or something. Nobody can taste Uzbek,” he informs you. “Plus he’s wrong. This dick is 100% American.” Hi, this is the kind of thing that goes through my head while we each take turns rolling dice and getting absolutely nowhere.

“I’m just here to do the roofing, but sure I could use fifty bucks,” says Gino ‘Sex Datsun’ Giuessepe. I think this to myself while you roll something that makes you curse and then shrug, shyly taking off your shirt, pants, and socks.

I assume this one is some kind of amazing prank by an employee at the playing card manufacturer. There’s simply no way a man with two square inches of un-haired flesh whose stripper persona is “indecent exposure at a children’s birthday party,” would be included in a deck of cards aimed at female masturbators. And I know it was the ’80s and this is what 25-year-olds looked like back then, but if you told me this man was a grandfather of nine, I’d believe you. I’m completely lost in the details of the world that allowed this man, Uncle Laffs the Pussy Barber, to exist. “It’s your turn,” you keep saying, fully naked at this point.

“I’m going to hatch these fish eggs in your moistening birth canal,” says Hunk Zero, visitor from the stars.

“I hope you don’t mind, gorgeous. I borrowed a shirt,” coos bite-sized hunk, Testes Shrinkray.

“No grapes for you,” whispers Gerald Cock. “You fucking piece of shit.”

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into changing that score to a D, Mr. Health Inspector?” I brainstorm while you continue to scream, “IT’S YOUR TURN!”

“Manjo Pubefood? No… Salad Jake, Penis Daredevil? Maybe just Slip Cucumber? Cobb Vulvasplash. Shit, none of these are working. Graham Circumcision?” I mouth silently while you grow more furious and nude.

“This one!” I shout. “I found a really good one! Ten out of ten hunk, no jokes– great hunk, outstanding hunk.” You agree without reservation and we get back to the game. Where were we? I think it’s my turn and I don’t roll doubles, so it’s your turn. You land on the MEMBERSHIP CARD one and get:

You just look naked and sad. Another setup for pedestrian wackiness with no reward. Let’s try another and see if it’s any better.

At least this one is worth fake money. You sigh and start listing things you might penetrate with a banana. “You can put it in your… butt. You could vaginally insert a banana… suck it like a, you know, penis.” The CHIPPENDALES AFTER HOURS GAME has removed all joy from eroticism and whimsy. “You could eat it, I guess. You could eat the disgusting butt banana,” you say to earn your five imaginary dollars. I can barely look at you. You’re like a whore being told she can keep whatever she finds in the cup holders. You’re like a chimpanzee holding a funeral for a doll it thinks is a corpse. You’re like Carlos Mencia asking the waiter if he can pay for his meal with the sketch idea “Spider-Mang: Far From Homie.”

I don’t roll doubles so it’s your turn again. A tear crawls down your cheek when you see you’ve landed on PICK A MEMBERSHIP CARD again. You flip one over, dreading whatever forced silliness will be on the other side… 

You look at the card unable to believe it’s worse than you could have imagined. You look down at your naked body. “Banana. Banana float,” you decide. For zero Chippendale Play Money dollars. For nothing. We both look down at the board for what feels like an eternity but is actually only 17 hours.

“Ha, what if you really did say d. Anchovies,” I joke.

“I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done today,” your ghost says. “That’s right, I died. End your fucking article with that, asshole.”

…

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