I Vant to Bite Your Finger

I vant to scare your children.

Back in the early 80's (or even perhaps late 70's), board game history was rewritten when Hasbro introduced a new family game that combines the thrill of getting bitten with the monotony of calling random numbers.  That game, which you should already know the name of since you selected it from the menu, was 'I Vant To Bite Your Finger'.  Forgive Hasbro for the typographical error but vampires like their speech impediments spelled out for them.

The object to 'I Vant To Bite Your Finger' was to be the first player to make it to the end of the graveyard.  At each turn you call out a number like "THREE" or "ONE" or "NEGATIVE PI" and then turn the clock face that amount of clicks.  If Count Finger Fetish doesn't open his cape then you, my dull friend, are safe.  Move your marker the number you screamed out (and feel free to lie if no one else is paying attention).  However, if the cape does open, it's time for you finger-fornicate Nosferatu's mouth.  An opposing player (or yourself if everyone else is sleeping) pushes down on the "teeth" in an attempt to get a playful nibble on your index finger.  Sometimes, if the game is feeling sorry for your pathetic, board game-playing ass, the teeth won't go all the way down.  In this case you are safe.  You don't get to move any spaces but you also don't get sent back to start.  Plus, you don't have to spend an hour washing the red marker off your hands.  The winner of the game is the person who wins.  In the event of a tie, the snappiest dresser shall be declared the victor.

This game has always intrigued me as a child since it seemed utterly frightening and barbaric.  I though the thing actually drew blood and made a beeline away from it whenever I encountered it in my local Toys R Us  (note to company: your 'R' is foolishly backwards).  It took me twenty years and many a sleepless night to realize that the 'teeth' were nothing more that two tiny felt tip markers and the 'vampire' was actually an illustration and not some "little person" they dressed up and shoved in a box.

Baffling anxiety aside, the game seems almost like Russian Roulette for children.  When you strip the game of it's artwork, pieces, and horror motif, the actual goal denigrates into forcing another player to make that one fatal click of the clock.  Strangely enough, said clock will sometimes forget it's an integral part of the game and let you get away with a full twenty-four clicks (two spins around the face) before the cape pops open.  We just take turns to screaming out a number higher than the number of spaces on the board and see who's the first to exploit the mechanism's fatal flaw.  Usually, it's the person who goes first.  To simplify the entire process, it is agreed that the player that most successfully argues for the privilege of going first automatically wins the entire game without having to do anything.  That cuts the time it takes to play this game to about thirty or forty seconds, depending on how heated the "I Should Go First" debate gets.  Of course, when the game does work properly (about 75% of the time), the whole debate proves fruitless.

Finding a copy of this game at local flea markets, garage sales or eBay shouldn't be too hard.  It's getting a copy with the 'teeth' not dried out and useless that proves the biggest challenge.  More often than not, some snot-nosed little bed wetter got bored with the game itself but found the ability to draw two lines at once with that crazy-shaped marker more stimulating than keeping the game in working condition for future generations of retro maniacs.  There's a beanbag chair in hell reserved for them - and also one for said retro maniacs that buy this crazy shit.