I’m Hooked on NYTimes Games: Do I (and 10 million others) Need Therapy?
It’s Andy here today. Ann is in OurLittleCorner being sassy saucy.
OK, I’m going to admit it. I spend more time on line doing the NYTimes Games than reading the news. And evidently I’m not alone in that regard. Wikipedia indicates that the NYTimes Games section attracts 10 million players a day. A NYTimes staff member reportedly commented, “the half joke that is repeated internally is that The New York Times is now a gaming company that also happens to offer news.”

I should mention that this is not the first time I’ve blogged about my obsession with puzzle games. Back in 2020 during the pandemic (remember that?) I shared my favorite linguistic equation puzzles to help while away the alone-time that we were all experiencing. Solving such puzzles purportedly triggers a sudden flush of pleasure and satisfaction, sometimes called the aha effect, from the release of the mood-enhancing chemical dopamine .

Then a couple of years later I blogged about how my preoccupation with games like Wordle and Connections was a diversion from the constant drumbeat of news about a world that’s going to hell in a hand basket. However, at the time I felt pangs of guit for indulging in frivolous games (as I put it) when so much serious stuff was going on — sort of like Nero fiddling while Rome was burning. I wonder how many of those 10 million NYTimes game players feel similar twinges of guilt.
However, my dark cloud of guilt may have a silver lining. I say this because Joseph de Wek recently contributed an opinion essay to The Guardian that offers a convincing argument (at least convincing to me) that puzzle games are not frivolous and that we needn’t feel guilty for indulging in them.
De Wek begins by pointing to what I consider to be obvious: trying to keep abreast with today’s frenetic and disjointed world is anxiety-producing, to say the least. He claims that puzzles offer an escape from constantly bombarded with one after another bad-news rabbit holes. For de Wek this form of escape is a positive adaptive strategy rather than a retreat from reality: “Instead of Instagram-induced Fomo or doomscrolling the news, we focus on a single problem.”
[Editor’s note: I hate to admit it but I had to look up “Fomo” and “doom scrolling.” The UC Davis Health web site provides a good overview of the mental health hazards of “Fomo” (Fear of Missing Out). And a useful summary of the perils of “doomscrolling” (scanning one negative headline after another) can be found on the Harvard Medical School web site .]
Beyond being an escape, puzzle games offer what de Wek calls “productive rumination.” In the face of our increasing use of computerized technology for mental tasks (think spell check and AI web searches) de Wek says that puzzles may become the mental gym that keeps our brains fit by increasing its neuroplasticity (the ability to to adapt to change). I’m not sure how that all works, but I do know that I would prefer a mental gym any day over the pumping-iron kind.

It even gets better. In addition to exercising our brains, de Wek floats the idea that puzzles may be our new utopia. In contrast to the anarchy and ambiguity that we see around us, puzzles offer a “contained alternative universe” where a fact is a fact, a wrong letter is simply wrong, and a correct solution is clearly right. Additionally, in the puzzle world we can find closure which is something that’s rare in our uncertain world.
His closing words resonated with me:
For a few minutes, we get to live in a fair, orderly world. And for those few minutes, at least, we get to reassure ourselves that our brains can still deduce, recognise patterns and engage in linguistic play. We are thus reminded that we are still capable of comprehending the world – if only the world would let us.
With that I’m happy to conclude that being hooked on puzzle games is not a reason to feel guilty nor to seek therapy. In fact, having brains that can still “deduce, recognise patterns and engage in linguistic play” is in itself reason for celebration (especially at my age).
So, tomorrow morning, after having briefly glanced at the headlines, I’ll turn to my favorite NYTimes Games for a bout of productive rumination. Happily, I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror without regret. Now we’ll have to get the good news out to the other 9,999,999 players.












