I played some more Scribblenauts today, and I’m continually impressed with this little game. It’s gone from something I hadn’t heard of, to something I bought my girlfriend because she likes puzzles, to something I can’t get out of my head. Scribblenauts is one of the more recent games where I actually found that failing is awesome.

Consider today. I’m trying to pick up some goddamn flowers for a chick. Whatever, okay, cool. It quickly becomes clear to me that one bouquet is underneath, straight chilling with a piranha.

It seems like it has a pretty simple solution to a meat head like me. I’ll conjure up a fucking bazooka, and teach that piranha about the dangers of explosive devices. Never mind the fact that I’m wondering why this chick wants these flowers that are absolutely soaked, and ruined by a flesh-devouring monster left over from the prehistoric days.

So I’m all, you know, get ready to feast on death, Mr. Piranha. I aim, I fire…I explode. I blow up a nearby tree, I blow up myself, and the piranha telepathically conveys me the finger.

Awesome.

Solving puzzles is awesome, and half the fun of Scribblenauts has been wondering what exactly will solve the problem. I’m sitting there, having to give a fireman (or is it firefighter or fireperson?) something he’d like to hold. I’m like, here dude, hold this oxygen mask.

He ain’t feeling it.

Really bro? You’re going to run into some flaming cauldron of asbestos and you want to suck wind? Curious. But I wasn’t pissed. I equipped the chap with an axe and apparently he was ready to play the hero. I found myself talking shit to him, even as I trashed object after object, but somehow it was fun. Thinking? Fun? Well played 5th Cell.