TS Eliot was right as the game-makers King have proved with their addictive smart phone and Facebook app Candy Crunch.
Candy Crunch is a game that involves wiping out rows of candy shaped icons from a screen. Wipe enough and you progress through to a final screen and can boast to yourself you are a Candy Crush champ or chump.
And you can cheat by buying yourselves extra lives- like the golfer who has an identical ball ready to drop when his ball is unplayable or out of bounds.
The stats above demonstrate this game’s addictive capacity- it was taken among a sample of 1000 users. I wasn’t one, I came across the game when I discovered my parter (IQ 2 zillion) was no longer talking to me.
I have a lot to thank Candy Crunch for. Not only do I not get a verbal thick ear every evening but the missus is turning into a pleasant game-girl zombie allowing me to watch lots of sport and even a bit of soft-porn (my little weakness).
I am, late in life, realising that we have an off-button , to the vicissitudes of life which most of us can switch on and some of us have switched on permanently. This explains the puzzled look on people’s faces when I present a particularly challenging truth such as “but it’s not in anyone’s interest..” or “but it doesn’t have to be like that”.
Because most of the people I have these conversations with are purposefully in Candy Crunch lah lah land. It takes a Boris Johnson or a Simon Cowell to shake them out of their One Dimensional coma for the odd reality check. After which it is back to TV, endless nonsensical chit chat and Candy Crush Christmas.
OMG! What blithering nonsense am I descending to…
What brought on this rant on the 18th day of advent 2013?
The harsh reality of writing the 2014 business plan for Pension Play Pen Ltd. Note to God (please keep watch on my assumptions). That’s what.
For a few horrible minutes between 5 am and 6 am, I faced the horror of uncertainty full in the face.
Now what’s my password to the app store?