Nolan showed me Flight Control this weekend, and it might be the perfect casual iPhone game: lushly designed, deceptively tricky, and fiendishly addictive.
Basically I don’t “take a crap” anymore. I “go to land some planes” instead.
I too love this quiet piece of genius. I must admit I start to freak out when the number of planes onscreen goes upwards of ten, so it’s not exactly relaxation time fun for me. But it’s designed very well. If I have any complaints, it’s that there are maybe four routine patterns that the planes come out in, and that a selection of maps would make it more interesting in the long run.
81 is my high. I had to have a drink after that. High tension is not my speed.
Fucking Helicopters! AAARRRGH
I hate all of you so much for telling me about this game.
A quick shout-out to all of you guys for telling me about this game. And by shout-out, I mean: “Fuck you.” I’m never going to get anything done again. And Brother Weselec: 81? You never cease to amaze me.
Okay. Love you all. Fuck you all. Gotta go avert air disasters. Dammit. I was actually getting shit done today, too.
Every man has his price.
Mine was $.99, apparently.
It took less than a dollar to ruin my productivity for weeks to come. Fuck you, App Store. Fuck you right in the eye.
My high is 85 and no time to talk, back to landing planes.
