Like a lot of people, I played Wordle a lot this past year (see below). It’s ingenious, both simple and complex in the way that can remain intriguing over time. Six guesses to come up with a five-letter word sounds simultaneously super-difficult and pretty easy. Six seems like a lot, until you’re looking at S-A-E on turn number 4 and realize that there are A LOT of possibilities.
Wordle didn’t teach me a whole lot, but it reminded me of some pretty important things.
- There are no perfect beginnings. People spend a lot of time trying to optimize their opening word (a pair of MIT researchers even put their prodigious intelligence to solving it), but Wordle teaches you what you already know: There’s no one way to solve a puzzle. And looking at things a bit askew sometimes works out just fine. On Dec. 27, for example, I started with CORNY. I got the answer (CONDO) in three tries. My weird openers don’t always work out, but I remember when they do. And if it doesn’t work out, I HAVE ANOTHER TRY. And knowing what I do, I can come up with an intelligent follow-up. It keeps things fresh. And moving. And being perfect is rarely the best answer. Resilience is often a more durable response, In fact …
- Keep trying. There’s always another move — until there isn’t. And even then, there’s tomorrow.
- The solution is often closer than you think. My wife despairs after her first two guesses on a near-daily basis. At which point, I say, “You know you’re gonna get it in the next two guesses.” Which she does, except when she doesn’t. The truth is, in a lot of things, you don’t see the finish line until you’re tripping over it. Our whole lived experience is a caution to avoid freaking out as long as humanly possible. Then hold on a little longer. You’ve got this. And if not, remember, there’s tomorrow. (One exception to this rule might be global warming, but I remain skeptical that we won’t figure out how to atomize carbon or build a huge solar umbrella or somehow or other think our way out of armageddon. It’s what we’re good at. Now, agreeing to work together to deploy the global solar umbrella? Not our strength.)
- Regarding “you’re gonna get it,” who wants a partner telling them they’re not gonna get it, anyway? I’m 30 years married; I’ve learned a few things. If you think trolling your partner is good policy, I have news for you. You’re going to be looking for a new partner — soon.
- Language is a pattern. OK, it’s a lot of patterns. All those rules you spent learning in grade school, the stuff you claimed to have been bored out of your mind by, guess what, you paid super attention, because you play Wordle even a few times and you start remembering all the rules and patterns of words — how letters often double up next to each other, how “I” precedes “E” except after “C”, how “E” and “Y” end a crap-ton of words … all of that.
- Endings are elusive. I don’t know how many times I’ve had the equivalent of S-A-E after three turns and went SNAKE-SPARE-SLAVE only to find out the solution was SHAVE. At first, that left me really frustrated, but the point of the game is it is simple and complex, that the answers aren’t obvious, that sometimes I run out of time. As a larger point, that’s usually not that big a deal, when it is a big deal I need to own it, and even then, in most every circumstance, there’s a tomorrow.
That’s it. That’s what Wordle was kind enough to remind me of this past year. I’m curious what others take from games — be they Monopoly, or Bananagrams, or fantasy football, or blackjack.
To close the Wordle loop, I’m attaching my notes for (nearly) every game I played in the past year. If you’re a Wordle nerd, you might find them interesting. Or find out you are better at Wordle than me. And if you are not a Wordle nerd, stop immediately. And happy new year!
What is this? Learn more about Play | Full
Wordle Solutions 2022
Discover more from Play Full
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.