I spent an alarmingly large chunk of 1989 trying to align a falling shower of digital building blocks into perfect rows of 10.
The Russian video game Tetris had just caught on in the States. Like many American children, I was rapt.
Plenty of video games are all-immersive, yet there was a particular 8-bit entrancement to Tetris — something about the simplicity and repetition of rotating descending blocks so they snugly fit together that allowed a complete dissociation from self, and from parental provocations ("Maybe, uh, go do something outside?").