Candy Crush Intervention

Dear Candy Crush Saga User,

I’ve been were you are. I know what you are going through. I was a victim too. I know what it’s like to see those colors, to hear that hypnotic tune. I know how it feels when all the candies are striped and they explode virtually every piece of jelly. I know.

I also know how tempting those uncharted areas are – the ones that appear only in pink and purple shadow and lure you to the next level. You don’t want to pay for it, but you also don’t want to ask your friends to help. But you need to know what comes next. You want to uncover those mysterious shapes. You want to catch up to your friend, the floating box somewhere on Level 220.

But here’s what happens.

Somewhere around level 150, you’ll hit a snag. Bombs are going off. Chocolate is covering up your boards. Maybe you’ll cave and actually purchase those extra 5 moves. Maybe you’ll purchase a ticket for the next level. After all, it’s only 99¢. What’s a dollar in the grand scheme of things?

You don’t think it’s so terrible because virtually every person you know is playing the game. Your newsfeed is filled with friends giving away lives, or tickets, or five extra moves that you can somehow never redeem. You’re part of a group of people who understand the compulsion. The need to match candies. The games that keep you up at three in the morning. That help you get through your meetings at work.

There is no easy way to say this. You need to end it. Cold turkey. Delete it off your phone. Block the requests on Facebook. Cut ties with your fellow junkies in that candy-coated, sugary-sweet, sinister world. You can still be friends outside the game. But you need to stop the enabling. Stop the codependency.

There will always be distractions in life. I’ve played many games on my phone and on my laptop. I was on Farmville, Castleville, Bejeweled Blitz, and Angry Birds. I played Cut-the-Rope like a ninja. But nothing comes close to the evil that is Candy Crush.

“I only play for a few minutes.”

“I just want to finish this level.”

That’s how it always starts, my friend.  Do the math. If you are on level 230, how many minutes have you spent matching candies? And what have you gained from it except the thrill of watching your profile picture inch further along on a blank Candy Land map?

Delete that black hole of time. Go outside. Look at your children who no doubt have aged a bit since you started playing. Get into a 12-Step Program. Recite some platitudes about how you are greater than your smartphone. Greater than those bizarre candy-puppet-creatures that look like they came out of some twisted Stephen King novel.

What the hell are these things anyway??

I swear I think I saw these guys hanging out with a clown in a sewer. 

Your time is worth so much more than that.

I know. I’ve been there.

Just do it.

Trust me.


A Former Junkie


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2 replies

  1. Oh, if I could only get back a tenth of the thousands of quarters and hours of time gobbled up by by the arcade games of the 70s and 80s! Once again, you’ve “hit one out of the ballpark!” Truth.

  2. I’m so happy that I have no clue what any of this is talking about

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