I’m a Game Designer. Here’s Why I Never Play Games On My Phone.
Quickly, what is the best selling game of all time? You probably won’t be surprised to learn it’s Minecraft, with over 300,000,000 games sold. It’s indisputably one of the best games ever released, and one of the most important, too.
But it doesn’t come close to generating the most revenue.
That would be Candy Crush Saga, which has generated more than $20,000,000,000 in cash. Nearly 10x that of Minecraft.
So if mobile gaming is so popular, why do I avoid it like the plague?
The Dark Side of Free-to-Play
The mobile game industry is built on a simple premise: give the game away for free, then make money by selling things inside the game. This sounds innocent enough, but the execution has become increasingly predatory.
Free-to-play games aren’t designed primarily to be fun. They’re designed to create pain points that can be relieved with money.
Take Candy Crush. I actually played it for a while back in 2013. The first 20 levels were genuinely fun puzzle experiences. But then, almost like clockwork, I hit a wall. Suddenly levels became nearly impossible to beat without power-ups. Coincidentally, that’s when the offers to buy those power-ups started appearing.
This wasn’t a coincidence at all. It was by design.
Years later, I worked with a team of three former King developers (the company behind Candy Crush). They revealed the carefully calibrated machinery behind the game’s success. Everything from the exact difficulty curve to the timing of “special offers” was meticulously engineered to maximize revenue. They had entire teams dedicated to analyzing player frustration points and optimizing when to offer paid solutions.
One particularly revealing insight: levels aren’t just designed to be challenging — they’re specifically engineered to make you feel like you almost won, triggering the near-miss response that keeps gamblers returning to slot machines.
Here are some common techniques I’ve encountered firsthand:
Energy Systems limit how much you can play unless you wait or pay. Remember FarmVille? I once planted a crop only to discover I needed to either wait 8 hours or pay $0.99 to harvest it. I chose to wait… and completely forgot about it, losing my virtual harvest entirely.
Artificial Difficulty Spikes suddenly make the game nearly impossible unless you buy power-ups. I watched my nephew play a racing game where he cruised through early levels but suddenly couldn’t win without purchasing better cars — right when he was most invested.
Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) tactics create urgency with limited-time events. Pokémon GO regularly uses this, sending me notifications about special Pokémon that are “only available this weekend!” I’ve seen friends interrupt dinner plans to catch these digital creatures.
Loot Boxes function like slot machines, offering random rewards for your money. When my son asked to spend $5 on a character box in a game, he had no idea the odds of getting the character he wanted were less than 1%. He just saw other kids with cool characters.
The Nightmare UX of Mobile Gaming
Last month, my son wanted to download a game he saw on YouTube. I decided to try it myself first before letting him have it. Here’s exactly what happened when I opened it:
- App launched with a splashy animation
- Loading screen with a progress bar
- Full-screen video ad for another game (with tiny X that was hard to find)
- “Welcome back!” popup with daily rewards
- Special event announcement popup
- “Limited time offer” for 50% off in-game currency
- Request to enable notifications
- Request to enable location services “to enhance your experience”
- Another full-screen ad
- Finally, gameplay began
- After 30 seconds, another popup offering to sell something
By the time I actually got to play, I’d lost interest and couldn’t imagine my son having the patience for this barrage of interruptions. The game itself was an afterthought, buried under layers of monetization tactics.
The cruelest twist? Many games deliberately make these interruptions more annoying only to sell you the ability to skip them. “Watch this 30-second ad or pay $0.99 to continue immediately.” This isn’t game design; it’s hostage negotiation.
And the worst part? These dark patterns are deliberately designed to trick children. I recently logged into my Apple email account (which I rarely check as I’m primarily an Android user) and was shocked to find multiple emails with the subject “Your App Store Receipt.”
Turns out, my 8-year-old had somehow subscribed to a “premium” account for a coloring app that cost $11 A WEEK. Who even offers a weekly subscription for a mobile game? And he had no idea he’d done it. The app had used confusing interface design to make him think he was just trying a feature, not signing up for a recurring payment.
My Occasional Exceptions
I’ll admit — I’m being a bit hyperbolic with my “never play mobile games” stance. I do occasionally play them, but with very specific criteria:
I paid for Monument Valley upfront ($3.99) and was rewarded with one of the most beautiful puzzle experiences I’ve ever had. No ads, no interruptions, no psychological manipulation… just pure, thoughtful design.
I’ve also enjoyed Alto’s Odyssey, a snowboarding game with such gorgeous artistry that I sometimes open it just to watch the sun set over its procedurally generated landscapes. I paid $4.99 once and have enjoyed it for years.
These premium games prove that mobile can be a legitimate artistic platform. They respect my time, attention, and intelligence, treating me as a player to be delighted rather than a wallet to be emptied.
The Industry’s Revenue Darling
The gaming industry now generates more revenue than film and music combined (a fact often cited to legitimize games as art). But this comparison misses something crucial.
In 2023, about 80% of gaming revenue came from microtransactions. Not from players buying games they love, but from a small percentage spending thousands in free-to-play games.
The industry has a term for these high-spenders: “whales.” Just like in casinos, the business model depends on a small number of people spending far more than they probably should.
I once interviewed with a mobile game company, during which executives celebrated their success with a “mega whale” — a player who had spent over $30,000 in their game in just six months. Rather than expressing concern, they discussed how to extract even more. Needless to say, I contacted the recruiter after the interview and withdrew my application.
Games are absolutely a legitimate art form. But their artistic legitimacy comes from their creative expression and cultural impact, not from how efficiently they extract money from players’ wallets.
The Impossible Economics for Developers
Last year, I had dinner with a former student who had just shuttered his indie mobile game studio. They had created a beautiful premium game priced at $4.99. Despite excellent reviews, they couldn’t survive.
“We got about 10,000 downloads,” he told me. “We needed 100,000 just to break even on development costs.”
Meanwhile, free-to-play games with predatory mechanics were making millions.
The economics are brutal. When players expect games to be free, charging even $2.99 can tank your downloads. This creates a market where ethical game design is actively punished.
This race to the bottom started years ago when the App Store normalized the $0.99 price point for games that cost hundreds of thousands to develop. Now even that price point is considered too high.
A Path Forward
So what can we do about this?
As players, we need to recognize that “free” games often cost more than paid ones — not just in money, but in time, attention, and psychological well-being. Paying $5 upfront for a complete experience is often less expensive than the hidden costs of “free.”
I’ve started a personal policy of buying at least one premium mobile game each month to support developers creating ethical experiences. Recent purchases include Mini Metro, Gorogoa, and Florence: all games that respect my time and intelligence.
As developers, we need to explore new models. Maybe it’s subscription services like Apple Arcade that free developers from the pressure of manipulative monetization. Maybe it’s targeting platforms with healthier economics. Or maybe it’s finding smaller, passionate audiences willing to pay for quality.
The mobile games market as it exists today isn’t inevitable. It’s the result of choices — by developers, publishers, platform holders, and yes, players too.
When I discovered my son playing a free game with aggressive monetization, I sat with him and explained how the game was designed to make him feel bad unless he spent money. Then I showed him Monument Valley instead.
He and his brother played the crap out of Monument Valley. I had the great experience of watching them achieve the “aha” moment of realizing that you can change perspectives to create new paths. This is a truly innovative core mechanic, and one that charts a way forward for mobile game developers who want to shy away from “free” mobile games.
People WILL actually pay for innovative, fun gaming experiences.
It’s not too late to make a change.
Sam Liberty is a gamification expert, applied game designer, and consultant. His clients include The World Bank, Click Therapeutics, and DARPA. He teaches game design at Northeastern University. He is the former Lead Game Designer at Sidekick Health.
