It started innocently enough. Preparing for a long bus ride from New York to Philadelphia in November, I downloaded "Candy Crush" after months of mocking people who play it. I'd encounter them on my morning commute, methodically tapping their phones while I occupied myself with more high-brow activities, such as scanning through the day's news or reading a book.
Not anymore. I'm on Team Candy now.
The other day, a guy sat next to me on the subway. There was no secret handshake. He simply glanced at my phone and exclaimed "Daaaaang, that `Candy Crush,' huh?" I said yes, no kidding.
I saw that I was ahead of him in the number of levels completed and therefore was a better and more successful human being. "Just wait `til you get to Level 86," I warned. I thought to myself after he left, wait until you get to the chocolate, which spreads like the plague until you run out of room to crush more candy.
The game is free. The first few levels are easy while you get the hang of things. Swipe with a finger to line up three, four or five candies in a row, and they disappear. There are ways to create special candies with special powers that do special things.
