I opened Block Blast because I had five minutes before getting back to work. That was the official plan. The unofficial plan, which emerged about twenty minutes later, was to stare at one empty square in the middle of the board and ask it what it wanted from me.

It wanted a single-square block. Naturally, I did not have one.

Five minutes, apparently

Playing on my desktop computer makes the whole thing dangerously easy to start. I open a browser tab, pick up a block with the mouse, and drag it onto the grid. Fill a row or column and it clears, leaving room for more pieces. There is no countdown pushing me along. I can sit there as long as I like, carefully considering a move before making the wrong one anyway.

At first, I treated Block Blast like the sort of block puzzle game you play while waiting for a file to download. The shapes sat below the board, the spaces looked generous, and I placed pieces wherever they fit. Clearing rows and columns made a satisfying little dent in the clutter. Once, a placement finished more than one line at the same time, and I briefly considered myself a person with excellent spatial reasoning.

Then the board got crowded.

My brilliant plan had a small flaw

The trouble with a harmless-looking placement is that it stays there. Pieces do not fall into place, and I cannot rotate one just because it would be incredibly convenient if it faced the other way. Every block I put down changes the spaces available to the next ones.

I learned this after placing a small piece in an open corner because it fit neatly. Very neat. Lovely, even. A few moves later, I had an awkward piece and a space that would have held it perfectly if I had left that corner alone. I stared at the screen for a while, as though the block might sense my regret and move itself.

Now I try to look at all the available pieces before touching any of them. This sounds obvious, but my hand has a habit of grabbing the easiest shape while the rest of my brain is still loading. I also leave a larger patch of the grid open when I can. A board full of tiny gaps may look almost complete, but those gaps are not helpful if none of the pieces fit them.

Of course, knowing this has not cured me of overconfidence. Sometimes I spot a chance to clear a line immediately and take it, only to realize I have stranded the next piece. Other times I save room for a big shape that never arrives. My puzzle strategy seems to alternate between “think ahead” and “surely the game will send help.”

The next round can wait. Probably.

What keeps me playing is the gap between how simple Block Blast looks and how much I start caring about each move. The controls barely need explaining, yet one badly placed block can make me replay the previous five minutes in my head. When a crowded board opens up after a well-timed clear, I feel absurdly pleased with myself. When it does not, I can usually see the decision that caused the mess.

That makes starting over tempting. I am certain I will be more careful this time, right up until I spot an easy move and forget to check the other pieces. If you have a few minutes at your computer, try Block Blast in your browser. You may even finish after a few minutes. I keep saying I will.