In a tab not far from this one, a small bird orbits an 8-bit Earth on a ceaseless elliptical. I put him there, and feel a certain pride about it. You should launch some birds, too, if only to remind yourself that physics is pretty weird.
Too much has been written about Flappy Bird, but I’m going to pile on anyway: it reminds me of a conversation I’ve had with Kriston (and more recently John Bergmayer). Kriston was complaining about some not-that-great book that was sucking up a ton of public attention. These people could be reading the classics! he said. Or just last year’s much-better crop of novels!
I agreed with him about the objective merits of whatever book it was, but I stuck up for fad-chasing. There’s something great about having everyone settle on a single conversation for a week or two, applying all their capacity for inventive criticism, clever jokes and feedback loops of enthusiasm. Faced with exile on a desert island, I could assemble a media library that was very self-edifying. Faced with participation in culture, I’m happy enough to watch the new season of House of Cards even though it’s sort of garbage. I keep an eye on new album releases for the same reason, even as experience makes each band’s influences and lack of invention clearer.
Flappy Bird is compelling for a number of reasons, foremost among them the narrative surrounding its author and the ineffable appeal of a game with neurologically agreeable physics. But I’m also really enjoying it as a cultural rallying point: the aforementioned orbit game, the MMO, the essays.
Admittedly, this is because, so far, the conversation is mostly among people who enjoy essays and indie games — for me, this is a comfortably skintight demographic. One doesn’t have to look far to find other, grosser avian videogame phenomena.
But for now, and maybe for the rest of its run, it’s something everyone can talk about.