–> I live much of my life in pursuit of clear-cut indicators of a person’s true personality. And by person’s, I mean guy’s. With our adult costumes on it’s harder than ever to tell who’s a poser.

And so I, for the good of this blog and myself, test out various conversations built upon what I believe to be strong social indicators of intrinsic personality.

My latest: The Oregon Trail – that cult-classic computer game from our collective youth. It, like the inflated trade value of a Jolly Rancher from ’91-‘93, is one of the strongest markers of the Starter jacket generation.

Within this pixilated trip from Independence Missouri to that valley with a name no one could say (Wil-a-mett-ey? Wh-eel-met? Or was it the French Weel-may?) is the pioneer microcosm of our modern society. Choice of identity, ultimate survival skills, the proper writing of hysterical tombstones — it was the stuff of life.

Embedded in one’s approach to the play of game is as clear a sign as any of how they will function as mate.

Consider, if you haven’t already, the following:

Choice of character

• Banker: potentially shallow, likely strategic, definitely rich. Dallas Clem was always a banker. Now he’s “taking some time off”.

• Farmer: shows tendencies toward masochism and bad math skills. Good guy, for sure, but a beach house in Montauk is not in his future. Although I have a weird feeling not at all founded in logic that former farmers are good in bed.

• Carpenter: even keel, jack-of-some-trades, expert fixer of broke wheel axels. Slight chance he’s overly religious, but if not – this is your kids soccer coach with a his own bustling start-up.

Selection of Wagon Mates

There were two ways to go with this.

• Load your wagon with all your friends – (And the boys you had crushes. You did that. We all did) and work tirelessly to bring them safely to that W valley.

• Or load the wagon with made-up friends but probably enemies/Mrs. Pendelton and kill them off by pressing the space bar to continue every time a safety warning popped up.

Believe it or not, you want the latter. Consider the likely sexual future of a 9-year-old-boy who opted to bring all his loved ones to safety without naming them things like Jessie BigBooger. Right.

Style of Hunting

The only thing you really need to look out for here is if dude had a habit of waiting around to shoot multiple buffalo full well knowing he could only carry 50 lbs back to the wagon. That’s just wasteful. Mean and wasteful.

Would You Like To Ford The River?

This is the tell-all. You could probably skip the other stuff (except that crucial who-was-in-your-wagon issue). Did they ford the river or wait five days and pay for that ferry?

Most men forded as fording is a very male thing to do. But those who waited are not the sissies of the Oregon Trail – they’re the geniuses. See in order to wait and pay you had to have enough remaining food to feed your passengers, money to pay the ferry, and common sense to ward off Indian passers by. If that’s not a clear indication of one’s ability to run a family I don’t know what is.

How and where you bring this up is your problem. I tend to find a way to work the word Oregon into a conversation and then take it from there. Any mention of the ‘90s works too.

And regarding what to do if they’ve never played The Oregon Trail? Well then it’s clear they’re either too young, too old, or too foreign for you. Press the space bar to continue