Like I said above, there is nothing particularly special about Codenames in terms of its mechanics. It’s mind-blowingly simple, and yet, it’s something I’ve never seen before. If we’re trying to answer the question, “why is Codenames so popular?” then something to take out of this is that there is beauty in simplicity, and that less really can be more. Codenames feels like something that would have originated as a pen and paper game that could be made on a whim at parties, which strikes a chord with me, because in my giant, boisterous family, these homemade, quick and dirty games have often outclassed anything that comes packaged in a box with a price. Homemade Telestrations was one of our favorites long before it became a packaged, popular party game, and Nertz is a simple card game that can be played with a standard deck that STILL hasn’t worn out its welcome after a decade and a half of playing.

Now, I’m not saying that Codenames originated in such a way, but it feels like a game that could have, and the point that I’m trying to make is that these types of games are often more fun than anything you can buy in a store, and I suppose that’s one reason why the game is spreading like wildfire. There are no fancy mechanics, no weird gimmicks, no exclusive components, it’s just good, old fashioned fun packaged into a box, nothing more, nothing less. In a world where gaming is becoming ever more popular, it’s not uncommon to see designers desperately innovate to a fault, to a point where their overly convoluted ideas end up detracting from the main goal of playing a game which is, again, just to have fun.

The thing I love most about Codenames is that it’s not really about the game, when it comes down to it. It’s about the players. Do you have that one person that you just seem to have a connection with? Do you find each other finishing each other’s sentences, or looking at each other slyly when you make some kind of reference that nobody else in the room understood but each other? Codenames is a game that takes those relationships, and puts them to the test. You have to know your players if you want to win, whether you’re the spy master, or the guesser trying to decipher their hints.

I recall a game where three of my words were “green,” “ring,” and “heart.” It seemed a near impossible task to connect these words together, until I realized, “wait a minute, we’re all die-hard Lord of the Rings fans!” I gave “Samwise, 3” as my hint, and my two teammates guessed them all without skipping a beat. There’s no way in heaven or earth that this trick would have worked with the other team, but it did for us because I knew who I was playing with; these were my two family members with whom I’ve shared my love of LOTR for more than a decade, the people that engage in philosophical conversation with me about the virtues of Tolkien’s writing and oh-how-great good ol’ Samwise is. When that hint popped into my head, it just felt right, and these are the moments that make Codenames a meaningful game.

On the other hand, the exact opposite of the above scenario can also make the game a delightful riot. What happens when you pair a team together who just can’t understand each others’ cues? As long as there are no poor sports playing, it’s equally agonizing and hilarious when somebody’s hints (or the teammates guessing them) consistently fail to understand each other’s internal thought process. This is best enjoyed when the game ends, when the teammates can finally spill out their reasoning, which inevitably turns into an incredulous debate between players of “HOW were you possibly thinking like that?!” These moments are both comical and revealing, and if you choose not to take the game super seriously, both failure and success will be among the high points in your enjoyment.

Codenames also carries a delightful sense of vengeful competition, where players are constantly trying to one-up one another. Oh, the opposing team just guessed three words in one turn? Well, time for your team to try to get four. This, of course, can make the scenario incresingly ridiculous as the spy master desperately attempts to push ahead of the competition. Failing in this regard can lead to the bittersweet loss I mentioned above, but it can also become an incredibly moment of roaring satisfaction when your team actually does it. It’s sickeningly satisfying when your opponents’ smug faces, confident in their inevitable win, turn into disbelief as your team actually manages to guess correctly from the ridiculous clue that’s given, shooting you ahead of them, or even to victory. I recall a win where the hint “Ron Burgundy” (we were allowing for proper noun hints) won us the game in the eleventh hour against all odds. These are the moments that make Codenames worth playing.

Overall, this is a game that creates a social experience. While board games are played for a multitude of reasons, the games that provoke you to dig deep and understand your fellow players, and then use that understanding of who they are to manipulate yourself to victory, are rare treasures. In an age where smartphones, technology, and anonymity are penetrating the very fabric of our social interactions, a game that encourages true social interaction is something that I just can’t turn down. It brings me back to the days of weekly Risk, where we played not because of the rules or strategy, but because of the social experience that it provided; the secret alliances, the treaties, the backstabbing. It brings me back to our homemade party games, where the participating players were an extension of the game itself, and understanding them was a key component to victory. Perhaps that is why Codenames is so popular–it’s so easy to forget why we play games, that it’s incredibly refreshing when something comes along and reminds us.