Catcher In The Cornfield

All you can do is go to Cornfield. We know. It’s the only option. If it’s any consolation, it was all by design: the inevitable, Calvinistic, process of elimination that narrows down the 11 possible spaces on The Farm to the only truly useful outcome. We have achieved both decision paralysis and rigid determinism simultaneously. We have achieved fatalism.

Holidays 2024. I convinced a friend of mine to try the game. After the first round, everyone but him (four out of five players) immediately sprung for Cornfield. To be expected. They were all first-timers. My friend promptly turned to me and said, “OK. There’s a problem with your economy here”. I never talked to him again.

Let’s go back to the beginning here. Without exaggeration, Cornfield might have been the second space created for The Farm. It was at least part of the founding trinity: The Barn, The Radio Tower, and The Cornfield. The Farm itself wasn’t actually part of the original Party Line game; it came along after three or four drafts as there became a need, in this race towards The County Fair, for players to catch up and turn the tables on their contestants. There also arose a need for more decision points to be judged. After all, no animal can make it to The County Fair without some flying colors, some commendable techniques. No one should just waltz there anonymously, unceremoniously, without the pomp and the circumstance. The Farm then became our double-edged sword: one side acts as a boon for the player, the other side acts as a microscope, exposing their priorities. While The Barn provided redemption and The Radio Tower offered some high-risk-high-reward gambling, The Cornfield allowed an easy path towards gathering resources, albeit with a catch.

The catch: Cornfield will steal a card (of the owner’s choosing) from EVERYONE. Unlike any other potential “attack” in the game, this one remained uniquely indiscriminate. Without a doubt, Cornfield ruffled the feathers of every player around the board, but not one of them could feel singled out. Not one of them could make a solid accusation against you for targeting them, for playing against their faction. Truly, the Cornfield extended open arms to all, whether they be Loyalists, Opportunists, or Purists. Now, going to Cornfield in conjunction with other events (other players needing redemption, falling behind said other players on The Endorsement Board, or generally for any reason before the final Round) could still be a viable piece of evidence in whatever suspicions take heart.

Holidays 2025. I convinced another friend of mine to try the game. A new friend. A smarter friend, hopefully. Like clockwork, the first round passed in a similar, Cornfield-centric vein. On subsequent rounds, despite other players moving onto to the many, new horizons offered on the board, my friend never missed the chance to circle back, circle the drain. All roads led to The Cornfield. Why? “It’s the only good spot”. Now, this devotion could prove as a somewhat passable attempt at disruption for Opportunists, even Purists. However, my friend was a Loyalist and lost. I never talked to her again.

The real catch: short-term “gain” for long-term “same”. A player will have only four turns to move on The Farm, at most. The very opportunity cost of not using the other spaces on The Farm, of focusing solely on collecting Grapevine cards that contain a small chance of relevancy during the round and then ironically a 100% chance of relevancy on many, other spaces on The Farm, practically kept these players behind on The Endorsement Board. Beyond the limitations on the individual player, a consistent diet of Cornfield will also deprive the entire game of resources. Going to The Cornfield never actually added cards to the pool. No new cards were drawn. Old cards were taken, ignoring any other chance to gain Grapevine cards and disincentivizing any other player from taking that chance too. The Cornfield won’t help the team. Moreover, a run on The Cornfield always proved to be a wasteful exercise in redistribution.

None of these negative externalities tend to sway a new player from the immediate benefits, but by the final round, regret would finally settle in, though often incorrectly diagnosed. In that final round, Players needed a way to decide who stays in their coalition. For a coalition to have kept any foot in reality, the members needed a way to help keep each other In The Party, either by protecting them with Grapevine cards or redeeming them with Grapevine cards.

Better to think of yourself as the steward of the Grapevine cards in your hand. Grapevine cards can be played on any player, can be traded to any player. They can be shared. They will be shared. You can’t own the Grapevine. It belongs to everyone. That’s the real secret of the Grapevine. You’ll have far better luck channeling the Grapevine than controlling it. Any claims to the contrary is just an illusion cast by proximity.

Throughout this past year, after over 20 playtests with new players, the one consistent point of frustration amongst all kinds of players, regardless of familiarity, interest, skill level, intelligence, relatability, spirituality, common sense, fiscal responsibility, and overall likability, remained: The Cornfield needed to be fixed. The Cornfield needed to be changed.

Should The Cornfield really blow in the direction of limited vision and poor judgement?

No. The Cornfield should remain exactly as it is. Exactly as it was created. I hope that my arguments above will at least start that conversation.

Thanks,

Alexander Wilkins

EDITOR’S NOTE: The Cornfield was officially changed on December 12th, 2025. Nobody complained.