Discussions

My first Block Blast night ended in a familiar puzzle-game heartbreak: a single ugly hole in the middle and three shapely pieces with nowhere to go. I stared, sighed, and swore I’d “be tidier next time.” Then I started a little document—the Block Blast Grid—where I jotted what went wrong and why.

Run two: I noticed I always jammed the center first. So I flipped the script. I began anchoring the corners, keeping a 3×3 buffer in the middle. Suddenly, awkward L‑pieces had a home, and the dreaded zigzag trio stopped being board killers.

By run five, my Grid notes had rules:

“Never build a staircase edge taller than two cells.”
“If you place a 2×2, pair it with a straight piece to flatten the skyline.”
“Leave a vertical runway for the 1×4—future you will thank you.”
I also started tagging “bad greed.” Whenever I forced a single-line clear that created isolated pockets, I wrote it down. The next session, I opted for patience—setting up multi-line clears that flattened my board and expanded future options. The result? Scores exploded. I wasn’t luckier; I was kinder to my future self.

Highlights along the way:

Saved boards by preserving a central 3×3 “catch basin.”
Recovered from awful piece sets by sacrificing a quick clear to maintain a flat surface.
Broke my plateau after noticing my right side always towered—so I alternated placement parity left-right.
My favorite moment was a 5,000+ streak where every drop felt deliberate. Not because I saw the perfect pieces, but because the Grid—those humble notes—had trained my eyes to spot survivable shapes from three moves away.

Block Blast turned failure into a scrapbook of principles. The Grid turned that scrapbook into an inner voice that whispers, “You’ll need a runway soon.” Listen to it, and you won’t just score higher—you’ll play calmer.