Will Somebody Please Think of the Candy?

There is nothing like the wanton destruction of candy to relieve the anxieties of existence.

Of course, I could be referring to a kind of escapist ingestion: a tub of unwrapped Starburst, a spoon, some tissues and a bad film to assist in the gradual, sugary euthanasia of stress.

Add some tears and it all becomes delicious salt water taffy.

However, this is not the case. I don’t think I am capable of being so obliquely cliché, which is as arrogant as it sounds. If I’m going to work the stereotype, I’ll turn to symbolism. The simple defamiliarization of the Hollywood grief process is pretty much below me.

I am possessed of greater ambition.

Appropriately, I don’t eat candy; I crush candy. I crush it on my iPhone. With a few swipes of my finger, I reposition and manipulate the candy into vertical or horizontal lines of three to five like colours—orange, green, red, blue, purple—and mutter, ‘cop that,’ as I watch the candy explode before me. Then I proceed to crush more of their brethren.

The goals of this activity are beautifully simple: achieve a certain score; or bring some random non-candy objects to the bottom of the board (presumably to free them from the suggestive tyranny of the cardboard puppet characters ((I’m thinking of you Unicorn)) who populate this oppressive realm); or eliminate all the ‘jelly’ (the most insidious breed of candy: the most resistant to being crushed). When I achieve any one of these goals and, thus, win, I pump my fist in momentary celebration knowing full-well that more of the pixelated surgary bastards are awaiting their destiny at my hands.

Elation has become for me a flash of Tasty or Divine after a particularly dynamic combo.

My sense of wonder is the moment before putting two ‘special’ candies together. My anticipation of the imminent havoc is a quiet instant of utter satisfaction. ‘I did it,’ I tell myself, watching the destruction unfold.

I think now in terms of how to best assemble or manoeuvre things into a position so that other things happen. I desire a reality of endless combos.

As a means to eliminate the concerns of the outside world, the crushing of candy is a particularly grand anaesthetic. I wage a war on the proliferation of distracting colours and sweets—surely standing in for the cloying elements of the low-brow—by being distracted by them. I am crafty like this. I get inside the game to win outside it. I let it take me, but I am aware of its hold, aware of my addiction—the first step to healing—and from this peculiar vantage point I occupy two realms: the ‘low’ of the game as a means of evolutionary escapist victory; and the ‘high’ of my innate understanding of its core messages.

I am a transcendent Candy Crush player.

Its ‘low’ element is the Darwinian pursuit of triumph where you must be stronger and smarter than the candy to continue your evolution in the game. It is directly reflective of the human mission to continually adapt to the changing parameters of our reality, and is ‘low’ in the sense that, in this, it appeals to our basic need for survival.  The fact that it is widely played then lends it an aura of collective accomplishment, of belonging to the wider network of the human race staring down the rigours of day-to-day living with light-hearted entertainment. It answers to the inner hunter—to crush—and gatherer—to collect more levels—in each of us.

Moreover, as it is a game, it also creates a release from our reality, even as it paradoxically challenges us, even forces us, to recognize how we engage with it. I identify with its artificial world and take a primal joy in its simplicity as a means of personal and collective illumination, and, then, the simplicity through which I conquer it. Everything becomes more bearable after I crush candy. In this crushing, I face down the world and I commit to the saga of its title.

As for its ‘high’ element, well, surely it has something to do with its analoguous relation to the war on obesity and, as noted, the syprupy spectacle of the low-brow, which it inserts itself within to undermine. It may appeal to our 'low' instincts to 'grow' and to 'belong' as humans, but it is wryly critical of certain elements within our society that impinge on this development: the unhealthy binge eating of candy and the poorly conceived elements of popular culture.

 

However, what I find most intriguing is its ironic commentary on addictive consumption. We are displacing eating actual candy, and all the physical joys it commits on our taste buds, with crushing game candy. At times, I can almost taste the sourness of the yellow ones before I commit them to a line and eliminate them. I wonder why I don’t just go out and buy some sour lollies. Then I think, in all honesty, it is easier to just crush them here. The rush is about the same. We eliminate our sugar addiction by addictively eliminating fake sugar.

Anyway, back to it. I feel reality creeping back in.