Take Candy Land, for instance.
Billed as "a child's first game," it requires little more of its players than hand-eye coordination and the ability to distinguish between primary colors. A close examination of the board and its accompanying text, "The Legend of the Lost Candy Castle," however, provides more questions than answers. Mr. Mint: benign Peppermint Forest guardian or deranged lumberjack? As the immediate relatives of King Kandy, do Princess Lolly of the Lollipop Woods and Queen Frostine of the Ice Cream Sea receive special treatment? Why is it King Kandy and not King Candy? Why doesn't his home melt? Why is it called the Candy Castle if it's composed entirely of ice cream cones?
Most compelling of all, what is the deal with Lord Licorice? How is such a scrawny guy able to bear the weight of a cape of licorice wands? Why on earth would someone who is "always gloomy, ever grim" want to reign over a place as cheery as Candy Land? Was he a different man when King Kandy or one of his no doubt equally happy-go-lucky predecessors awarded him the title of lord? If so, why did he go astray? Can he vespertilionize himself? Are his Bitter Chocolate Bats mere minions, or did he join them in their flight, swooping over Candy Land's many realms and gathering intelligence in preparation for his coup? Why did Milton Bradley stop responding to my calls, letters and e-mails? What are they hiding?!?
To vespertilionize is to turn yourself or something else (especially another living thing) into a bat. It derives from the Latin vespertīlio, meaning bat.