I learned this weekend how quickly lies, deceit and selfish acts can bring a community to the brink of destruction. To be clear, I was playing a board game, but it still packed a pretty powerful message for yours truly.

I had a couple of friends over Saturday evening to play a game called “Dead of Winter.” If you want to see how far tabletop games have come since Monopoly, just look up a couple images of that game and get ready to feel your head spinning.

Despite all of the rules, decks of cards and piles of cardboard pieces, the objective was actually pretty simple: My friends and I were to take on the role of survivors trying to make their way through the zombie apocalypse.

We took on the personas of various people – teachers, sheriffs, farmers, doctors and the like – who had set up shop in an abandoned community center in order to survive a blizzard and, yep, hordes of the undead.

To achieve this goal, the game simulates a pretty realistic microcosm of a community. Some of us needed to go out and search for supplies. Others had to fight off the zombies or board up the windows. While one player was collecting food to prevent the colony from starving, another was trying to decide if they should take in even more survivors; which equated to more mouths to feed. There was even a task for hauling away the trash because, even at the end of the world, somebody’s gotta do it.

The extra hook is that, at the start of the game, players are dealt cards that determine their loyalty. There is a very slim chance that one of the players will actually be a traitor, working toward their own goals in order to sabotage the group.

I was excited when I drew the “Betrayer” card, because it meant I got to be sneaky and try to secretly work toward my own goals.

I actually played the role well, I’m sad to say. When the colony was in desperate need of medication, I volunteered to go to the hospital and do some digging. I found tons of meds, but I lied and said that my search was fruitless.

When the colony needed more food, I acted as though I was unable to provide support, even though I was holding three food cards in my hand.

Heck, when it was my turn to take out the trash, I even botched that job in order to ruin our community morale and cost us the game.

As the “Betrayer,” I actually win the game if the rest of the group loses, which is exactly what happened. But while I had fun double-crossing everyone in the middle of the game, the actual victory left a sour taste in my mouth.

“It doesn’t really feel like ‘winning,’” I told my friends, who were good sports about the ordeal but clearly a little upset.

And they had every right to be. In their minds, we were all working toward a common goal and, through teamwork, we were making some progress. In the end, they discovered that all of their efforts had been for naught, all because one of us was actually working toward their own selfish objectives.

I learned this weekend (through a board game, no less) that a win for one isn’t worth it if it’s also a loss for everyone else involved.