News of Flappy Bird’s existence first came to me via a series of wry high-score tweets: 3 ... 7 ... 2. Players reaching double figures were accused of harnessing occult forces. Naturally I was intrigued, though it was a curiosity tempered by the fact I had no idea how the score was calculated or what it meant, and by my disappointment in other “hard fun” games like Super Meat Boy and QWOP. Especially QWOP.
It wasn’t until I read reports of the little two meg brain-boiler raking in fifty thousand clams a day in advertising revenue that I decided to check it out. It appealed to my sense of humour: an unplayable game making millions. Though, after a few minutes of abortive tapping, I adjusted my smirk into a wry smile and hit the home key, satisfied that I was across the curio du jour; that there was nothing more to see.
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