Wordle is almost an emblem for a post-pandemic world which is why its principles could so successfully underpin a return to romance after lockdowns and self-isolating, Angela Mollard writes.
Of course you are. Anyone with four brain cells and four minutes of spare time is engaged with the clever little game which can be played alone, offers instant gratification and leaves you with a warm glow of satisfaction.
If you weren’t playing it you clearly will be now but if you’ll pardon my cheeky little innuendo there’s a lot more to Wordle than a soupçon of self-pleasure. Indeed, the online game which is a cross between Hangman and Mastermind is both so sweet and reliable yet so charming and compelling it’s the perfect template for a dating app.
Impatient as I am to launch into an analysis of how we can apply the concepts of a humble guessing game to love, I’d best back up and inform any cave dwellers what it actually is.
For the uninitiated, Wordle asks players to guess a secret five-letter word in six attempts, offering feedback with each guess. Some letters will be correct and in the right place; others will be in the word but in the wrong spot.
A new puzzle is released each day and the website offers you the opportunity to share your results – without giving away the answer – with your social media followers.
It’s easier than a crossword, more fulfilling than Sudoku and it’s very “now”.
As one fan has tweeted: “Wordle is the sourdough starter of Omicron.”
The truth is Wordle is far more democratic and achievable than baking posh bread. Its backstory could be made into a Hugh Grant film.
Essentially Josh Wardle, the son of a Welsh farmer devised it as a gift for his girlfriend because she loves puzzles. He uploaded it to his family’s WhatsApp group and found they all loved it too so he released it to the world last October.
On November 1 just 90 people were playing the game; three months later it has become a global sensation and the New York Times has bought it for a seven-figure sum.
“I’d be lying if I said this hasn’t been overwhelming,” he says.
“After all, I am just one person and it is important to me that, as Wordle grows, it continues to provide a great experience to everyone.”
Aw, isn’t he adorable (I’ve Googled him and the pic of him with his girlfriend Palak Shah shows them grinning while wearing bike helmets).
I can’t believe that some hotshot investor hasn’t offered the humble software engineer an opportunity to create a dating app because Wordle is so much more than just a game. Rather, it’s a mood.
In fact, Wordle is almost an emblem for a post-pandemic world which is why its principles could so successfully underpin a return to romance after lockdowns and self-isolating.
While my use of dating apps was short-lived friends tell me it’s worse than ever with “ghosting” and “faux-nogomy” being joined by ever more toxic behaviours such as “wokefishing” – the practice of pretending you hold more progressive views to ensnare potential partners.
Granted it’s just a game, but Wordle has none of this duplicity. It’s authentic and transparent. Not only is it free (well, for now) but it’s presented on a simple website not a stylised app and there are no adverts, niggling notifications, novelty screens or requests for money.
As well as being the linguistic equivalent of a cup of tea, Wordle has all the old-style elegance of a pen and paper puzzle. It’s like a little meditation which can be slotted into even the busiest schedule, delivering a pop of happiness amid the low-level anxiety that permeates our Covid-dodging days.
It invites you to be present and playful, focusing on one task at a time. Were you to apply its concepts to a dating app, you’d likely restrict the number of concurrent matches, insist on responses within a respectful time frame and prevent would-be daters from ambushing each other by limiting the number of daily interactions.
Just like Wordle, it would have a touch of the old-school. Perhaps users might upload handwritten notes or send each other favourite pieces of music.
While not suggesting a return to courting and tea around the pianoforte, there’s clearly a pandemic-prompted yearning for something gentler and more genuine to soften the soulless and transactional hook-up culture.
If Wordle is the antidote to aggressive RAT stockpiling, toilet paper hoarding and Netflix bingeing, it’s also egalitarian and contained, delivering just one game a day to everyone, regardless of status.
Unlike most dating apps, it offers no premium features and no upgrades. Rather, like the watercooler chats which once cemented office life, it offers a moment, a connection when we’ve been disconnected for so long.
Wordle was always going to be the creation of a guy who grew up in a village called Llanddewi Rhydderch and moved to the US, not because he wanted to be a big fish in Silicon Valley but because he enjoys Ultimate Frisbee.
As his dad says: “I don’t think he likes the attention much.”
Yet before Wordle waddles off into oblivion, here’s hoping he turns his attention to the puzzle that is love.
ANGELA LOVES…
BEETROOT
Flicking through my friend Sarah di Lorenzo’s new book The 10:10 Diet I was reminded how easy it is to roast chunks of beetroot or grate them into salad. So delicious.
PLAYSUITS
I really like the streamlined look of playsuits and Target has a couple for great value – the Utility Pocket Playsuit (on sale for $34) and my fave, the denim shortalls in white for $25. Easy and fun.
VIRTUAL VOLUNTEERS
With so many aged care facilities not allowing visitors I’m exploring the idea of becoming a virtual volunteer which involves a weekly Skype session with a senior where you discuss hobbies or music or simply offer a connection at a lonely time.
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