I still remember the first time I set foot on this campus as a UChicago student. O-Week was full of smiles and fresh faces; everyone was excited to be part of a new community. As the quarters passed, however, and friend groups solidified, the initial enthusiasm faded alongside the passion to meet new peers. It’s strange how quickly a campus full of expression and life can start to feel like a collection of isolated bubbles. The eager energy we once had during O-Week vanished, and I felt as if my world had shrunk into a social silo of my own. Whether it be the lack of social battery, the exclusivity of friend groups, or the absence of O-week icebreakers, students stopped making space for new connections at UChicago far too soon.

As someone who enjoys meeting new people, I struggled when I felt my circle closing in on itself. What used to be spontaneously sparking a conversation with future classmates was now awkwardly interrupting an established friend group, and fear of disrupting the settled social scene closed me off from reaching out to others. It upset me when I realized that I didn’t even know my neighbors’ names, despite passing by them every day. I rarely talked to anyone unfamiliar outside of class, and I completely avoided making conversation with those not within my direct friend group. I was trapped in a bubble, disappointed with the situation, but an active participant in its creation.

It wasn’t until I stumbled upon a simple, unforeseen solution that the bubble suddenly burst. Fishing for Compliments is a board game that I’d heard about through my roommate. When she explained that it was created by a UChicago alum James Koehne (A.B. ’19), I knew I needed to get my hands on a box. The game is designed entirely around complimenting fellow players. Upon hearing about it, I immediately thought of O-Week, when a simple “I love your outfit” or “you have a great sense of humor” could spark a friendship.

Fishing for Compliments is a straightforward game. First, a “fisher” draws a prompt, then everyone responds with a compliment on a magnetic fish-shaped whiteboard. After that, the fisher uses a toy fishing rod to transfer as many compliments as possible into the game’s box and finally reads them all. The number of “fish” caught determines how many points the fisher gets, and an extra point is given to whoever wrote the fisher’s favorite compliment.

When I invited people to play the game for the first time, I purposefully asked a few acquaintances. Half of them didn’t show up: it was, after all, a random Tuesday night in the midst of midterm season. Those that came exuded a nervous energy, cognizant of our familiarity, but uncomfortable nonetheless. We braced for the awkwardness and gathered in my Woodlawn double, my typical spot to host board games, and learned how to play together.

At first, the awkwardness persisted. People who did not know each other very well had to improvise compliments. They chose to comment on basic features such as looks, mannerisms, outfit choice, etc. These small affirmations, however, quickly spiraled into larger conversations. “You have great music taste” turned into a heated discussion over which shoegaze band was the most underrated; “you have such unique eyes” brought up stories about relatives who had segmental heterochromia; and “I’d want you on my team for basketball” opened the floor for gossip about old sports team drama.

Shy acquaintances quickly became people with unexpected, shared interests. With just a simple board game to act as an intermediary, we began to truly see each other as individuals with our own unique lives. That effortless receptiveness and wide-eyed curiosity could only be equated to the way students would connect with one another during those nostalgic first weeks on campus.

When the endless activities thrust upon us during O-Week dwindled, overcoming the hurdle of meeting unfamiliar people became much more difficult than just staying within an already established circle. Fishing for Compliments helped create a similar environment where we could laugh at ourselves without feeling self-conscious, appreciate one another without sounding overbearing, and communicate without overthinking interactions. The game itself is not much different from any other icebreaking activity, but it helped me realize that nothing special needs to happen for people to form bonds with one another. As UChicago students, we don’t lack interest in branching out, but we lack the courage to step forward and create opportunities to connect with people.

Since that random Tuesday night, I’ve made it a point to be a little braver in reaching out, talking with new people, and inviting unfamiliar faces to game nights. While I haven’t turned into the most extroverted person on campus or increased the size of my friend group tenfold, I have learned a valuable lesson. We don’t have to wait for something to push us out of our comfort zones and meet new people. Something as simple as a spontaneous compliment said over a board game can act as the perfect opportunity to break ourselves out of our bubbles. It might even be enough to fish out a friend or two along the way.

Kaci Sziraki is a first-year in the College.