I wish I could travel back in time and tell my ten-year-old self about the smartphone video-game utopia to come. In the future, I’d explain, grown men and women with full-time jobs play video games nearly every day, using their fingerprints to download new games through the air to their pocket-sized video-game consoles. Many of the best games cost ninety-nine cents. And people play video games everywhere: in the subway, in bed, waiting in line. In fact—this is the craziest part—they’re required to carry their game players with them “for work.”
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All of these developments would strike mini-me as obviously good. But one thing about smartphone games—perhaps the most important thing—would just confuse him: their new-found, grownup elegance. For a long time, many of the more advanced video games have pursued an extravagant idea of adultness, becoming increasingly vivid, realistic, violent, unsettling, sexy, or vast. For obvious reasons, meanwhile, mobile-game developers have had no choice but to be more restrained. And yet, over time, they’ve settled on their own set of virtues: rigor, elegance, simplicity, inventiveness, gentleness, and wit. These games are “adult” in a different way. Many of them are so poised and well-mannered, so refined and intellectual, that you feel clever, rather than guilty, when you play them.
Woe unto the man who plays every iPhone game: I’m sure there are many deserving games I’ve left out. Still, as I look back on a year of iOS gaming, these are the iPhone and iPad games that gave me the most happiness, and which did so in the most intriguing and thoughtful ways. (Many of them are also available for Android devices.)
Stickets, by Wanderlands (Australia)
Stickets is like a slowed-down version of Tetris. You have unlimited time to place L-shaped, multi-colored blocks on a very small board. The game is chess-like, in that it asks you to think ahead, looking for how patterns of space and color overlap, but it’s the lack of time pressure that makes Stickets truly great. Because you’re never rushed, errors can result only from your own stupidity. You play (and win) against yourself.
Device 6, by Simogo (Sweden)
It’s tempting to call Device 6 an interactive mystery novel, but that makes it sound dreadful, when in fact it’s delightful. You play, for the most part, by reading about Anna, a woman who wakes up in a castle, alone and with no memory of how she got there. But the text you read is itself a kind of environment. Climb a spiral staircase, and the sentences form spirals; turn a corner, and the text does, too. Eventually the narrative assumes a cartographic dimension: you find yourself “walking back” along the twisty sentences in search of clues, which are often hidden within perspectival photographs, displayed like little windows set into the game’s giant, single page. Device 6 feels like a game made a few decades from now—it’s from a time when the distinctions between digital and analog culture have been forgotten.
Rymdkapsel, by Grapefrukt Games (Sweden)
Martin Jonasson, the Swede behind Rymdkapsel, describes it, accurately, as “a slow, meditative strategy game set in space.” You play by building a space station, configuring its compartments through the combination of different Tetris-shaped modules: gardens, kitchens, barracks, corridors, labs, and so on. Nominally, your goals are to build a station that can defend itself against occasional alien attackers, and to investigate the “monoliths” that float in the distance. The payoff, though, is surprising: by building a station that’s minimal and efficient, you also build something artistic. Zoom in, and you see your little space-men fighting alien bad guys; zoom out, and you see a kind of abstract space-collage. Jonasson has created a perfect world in which, by performing utilitarian tasks, you also perform aesthetic ones.
Ridiculous Fishing: A Tale of Redemption, by Vlambeer (The Netherlands)
The premise of Ridiculous Fishing is, in fact, ridiculous: first, you collect a lot of fish on the same hook, then you fling them high in the air and take them out with automatic weapons. The pleasure is all in the contrast. When you’re fishing, the game asks you to tilt your iPhone or iPad gently from side to side; as your hook descends to the dark, silent depths, you feel like a marine biologist. Moments later, though, when the game turns into Duck Hunt, you blast away indiscriminately. What could possibly be redeeming about Ridiculous Fishing? It might be that the game is so beautifully and carefully made. In a visual joke, eighties-style graphics are seamlessly combined with an old-timey nautical typeface; the music runs backward as you reel in your line; the colors of water, sails, and sunsets are arresting and vibrant. Even in its absurdity, the game is a strangely relaxing oasis.
XCOM: Enemy Unknown, by 2K Games (United States)
This big-budget title—a re-make of a game from 1994—came out for Windows, PlayStation, and Xbox, in 2012, before an iOS version appeared, in June of 2013. Maybe it’s actually from 2012, but whatever: it’s still the most satisfying game you can play on your iPad or iPhone. XCOM is a turn-based strategy game in which you command soldiers confronting an alien menace. You guide them from above as they take cover, surge forward, and stake out advantageous positions. The game is perfectly executed in every way—your troops are easy and fun to control—but two other factors earn it a place in the pantheon. The first is that your soldiers are almost infinitely customizable; if you’d like, you can adjust their appearance until they resemble your friends, family members, and favorite fictional characters. That raises the stakes. The second is that you can lose spectacularly. After weeks of cautious play, a single poor choice can wipe out your whole squad. XCOM is both unforgiving and rational: when you die, it’s your fault, and when you win, it’s because you were smart. More than any game I know, it gives you a sense of pleasurable, thoughtful risk-taking.
Duet, by Kumobius (Australia)
I’ve been more frustrated by Duet than by any other game this year; on the flip side, few other games are as fun when you succeed. The game has a clever premise: instead of controlling one character, you control two—little dots that are linked together, occupying opposite spots on a single circle. Move a character right, and the other moves left. With the dots thus conjoined, you must navigate a series of hectic puzzles, steering around various obstacles. The strangest thing about Duet is that it’s presented as self-help: between each stage, you’re given a small piece of advice. Some of it is about coping with failure, which seems appropriate, given how difficult the game becomes; the rest is about relationships. Bonus points for an excellent soundtrack, by one of the musicians in the band Gotye.
Blek, by Kunabi Brother (Austria)
By the end of this year, I thought that I’d never like another sleek, minimalist iPad game. Then I played Blek, by two brothers from Vienna, Denis and Davor Mikan. Blek has a smart and, to my knowledge, entirely original game mechanic: you play by drawing a little squiggle with your finger, which then sets off, repeating, slinky-like, across the screen. Using your squiggles, you must navigate your way through obstacles to hit targets. Blek is funny, tactile, and imaginative. There are no instructions: part of the fun is that you teach yourself to play it. And, because you create something new with every turn, you’re doing it right even when you’re doing it wrong. More than any game I encountered this year, Blek captures the spirit of play. It’s the sort of game you’d want to put on a space probe: when the aliens play it, they’ll take a liking to us right away.
Other favorites
One of the best things about smartphone games is that there are so many of them—you can always try one or two more. This year, I also loved Nimble Quest, a souped-up version of Snake; Limbo, an atmospheric platformer; Boson X, which is like being inside Super Hexagon; QatQi, a daily word game; and Home, a creepy horror adventure. I discovered three games I overlooked last year: Triple Town, a mesmerizing puzzle game; Granny Smith, a joyous roller-skating romp; and Walking Dead: The Game, which is maybe better than the television show. And, finally, I enjoyed Carrot, an iPhone to-do list. It taunts you when you go too long without getting anything done. “Greetings, lazy human,” it says, when you open it. “I, Carrot, am your new task master.”
