Summary
Tetris was the sort of game that looked like office software, then quietly stole entire evenings. You rotated falling shapes, tried to keep the stack civilised, and discovered that 'just one more line' was a lie you told yourself for hours. It was instantly readable, endlessly tense, and brutally fair: mistakes piled up exactly where you left them. When you finally cleared four lines at once, your brain lit up like it had just won an argument. Simple rules, savage obsession — and it never needed a plot twist.
What it does well
Perfect pick-up-and-play rules, infinite replay value, satisfying mastery curve, and tension that rises naturally with every mistake.
Where it falls short
Can feel repetitive, later speeds become punishing, sessions vanish into a blur, and it's alarmingly easy to overplay.
Verdict
A timeless design miracle: instantly understood, endlessly challenging, and still dangerously good at stealing 'five more minutes.'