Hermione Eyre: Swot? Anarchist? Groper? There's a game for you

There are, as any arts grad worth their student loan knows, only seven basic plots in literature; every play, film and novel in existence is a variation on one of them. Equally there are, according to research carried out by me and my family at the University of Home (Sitting Room Faculty), only seven basic games. They used to be called "parlour games" but since no one has a parlour any more they are called "family games". Who knows what they will be called next. Anyway, here they are: the seven ludic archetypes, and what your choice of game says about you.

1 Primal dominance.

Clambering out of the swamp, early man held his fist aloft and roared. He was ready for a thumb war. Soon after followed arm-wrestling, Mercy, and other games of physical prowess that require only a Neanderthal glint in the eye and an averagely spacious cave. From there, it was an evolutionary hop, skip and jump to tiddlywinks, Hungry Hippos and – because we still want to dominate with our thumb – Nintendo Wii. Testing dexterity, reaction times, strength and other basic hunting skills, these games are for anyone who finds grunting easier than small talk and secretly wishes they'd trapped and killed that turkey.

2 Catch Me If You Can.

Some games are unplayable unless you're pretty kinky (or under 10). What are: Twister, Sardines, Wink Murder, Pass the Orange, and Hunt the Slipper (Lincolnshire variation) but desperate attempts to legitimise groping?

3 Bluff, and counter-bluff.

Deception is the dark art required by so many "family" games. You might think it was perverse that a small child should be applauded by his or her parents for having lied and sneaked a contraband bottle of Cognac and a diamond necklace through customs but this was exactly what happened in my home whenever we played the board game Smuggle. (Confusingly, whenever we played this game my mother took it as an opportunity to inform me piously that honesty was "always the best policy" – she must have really wanted to win.) Games of deceit (Cheat, Poker) delight those with the ability to hold several moral paradigms in their head at once; you don't have to be an actor, or a ruthless personality – you just need room in your brain to run the rules of life and the rules of the game concurrently. NB: Sometimes, games that look like type 1 are actually type 3: musical chairs, for example, depends not on brute strength but the ability to disguise hovering round a chair as a waltz.

4 Getting to Know You.

Some games are not games at all but formalised conversations. I'm thinking of: consequences (good for making sure everyone gets a word in, even the quieter types), the in-the-manner-of-the-word game (the player is secretly given an adverb, then has to communicate it to everyone else through the medium of mime – you know, they come in, bump into the furniture, hiccough, and everyone shouts "Drunkenly!") or the who's-in-the-hat? game. (I'll spare you the detail.) The goal is not to win but to shine socially; not to look too stupid and to get a few cheap laughs.

It's after-dinner banter for people who can't be bothered to make it; feckless but fun for a self-absorbed generation. Pretty harmless, with the exception of Scruples, the board game that poses moral dilemmas such as "Your tax bill is missing a nought. Do you own up or keep quiet?" and "A vegetarian dinner party guest asks if your lentil soup is made with beef stock – do you lie?". It's the ludic equivalent of a hand grenade. Lob into a family and stand back.

5 Know It All.

Trivial Pursuit, Mastermind, Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? – some games are simply about seeing who ate the Encyclopaedia Britannia for breakfast. You can't cheat; adrenalin doesn't help (you either know it or you don't), and you don't have an excuse for rubbing up against your opponents. These games either represent the apex of civilised life, or an opportunity for a quick nap, depending on your point of view.

6 Eager Beaver.

Swots love games they can win though sheer industry, nous and application, like Racing Demon, Scattergories, Categorically Speaking, Risk, Monopoly and Boggle. These games appeal to the type of people who, 200 years ago, would have been out building the empire or harpooning aquatic mammals. Basically, if you want to win that much, I say, you're welcome.

7 Twelfth Night.

The classic game structure, and possibly the best. It involves a corruption of status, or just a certain localised anarchy. It means important people bobbing apples. Timid children telling off a room of adults for being noisy (charades). Proud patriarchs having to publicly admit they can't draw a rabbit (Pictionary). Athletic people stumbling in three-legged races, old ladies winning musical statues. If regular social norms are all shot to pot, then you know a parlour game has really worked. Whether you know what a parlour is or not.