It is 2:09 PM as I attempt to write this article, and I am inexorably pulled in to the blight on my life that is powerlanguage.co.uk/wordle/. Like moths to a flame, I pull up Safari on my phone, scroll to the already-left-open tab and begin typing in some random 5 letter word pulled from my surroundings.

Wordle was created in October of 2020 by Josh Wardle for his partner, Palak Shah. Within months, it became viral, shared with friends and family members. The game gives you 6 tries to guess a 5 letter word and gives hints of letter placement each time you submit a word. Puzzles are given only one attempt, and are changed daily, giving a way to challenge yourself- and others- each time the clock resets.

Some Tuesday a while ago, I came across a stray Polygon.com article on a viral new word game that was claimed as simple but addicting.

The word that day was “Tapir”.
What is a “tapir”?????

After barely guessing it on my sixth try, and a frantic (and confused) google search, I sent the link over to my sister to puzzle it out. She too, after 6 tries and a couple hints from me, completed it.
In essence, Wordle is the sort of competitive battlefield my family delights in. Within the next week, the family group chat was strewn with a wasteland of “Wordle 207 4/6” followed by various green, yellow, and gray blocks.

And yet, behind this simple word game with the occasional obscurely picked word, there’s something more. There’s something comforting at the sight of your siblings screwing away from you in the car, trying to cover their screen with their body so you don’t see their guesses. I sit at a dinner table right now, watching my sister and mom figure out the Wordle of today as well, watching them groan when the boxes flip to reveal complete gray and laugh as they complete the puzzle in some ridiculously quick way (2?? Impossible). Behind those letters, there’s a deeper affection and connection in sharing the game that bridges our solitary triumph and defeat we feel playing the game by ourselves.

Even though it can be played alone, in my opinion, Wordle is best played with others– even the creation was designated for someone close, for the creator’s partner. The lonesome first run I had was just one part, but with that sending of a link to my sister and family, Wordle expanded to the “blight” that I live with today, wasteland and all.

Beyond in-person relations, one can glimpse the startlingly vast array of colored squares people share in social media and see their own attempts reflected in them. Others online mirrored my response to “Tapir”, “Rebus”, and the countless other exasperating commonalities while playing the game. To have a constant to share between people across the world is just absolutely lovely– and to have a constant to share between people across your dinner table is just as wonderful.

And for now, no other words are needed to describe that than:
Wordle 211 4/6
⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬜⬜🟨🟨⬜
⬜🟩⬜🟨🟩
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩