Article and illustration by Dylan C. Lathrop

I remember when my friend Justin — at the time the only person I knew personally with an iPhone — got all hot and bothered about this game called "Edge". He was taking a course on the history of video games and his instructor had told him to look into it. It captured all of our attention when he played, because of it's disco-ish Tron-ian aesthetics and pretty killer soundtrack, but also because the game play is, to put it mildly, divine.


Video of Edge.

This past July, I became what I never thought I would become, and what many people loathe: an iPhone user. I had been salivating over the 3GS and had a carte blanche offer to get anything within $300 as a graduation gift from my parents. So, there I was, cracking open that sterile Apple packaging and pulling out my sweet treat of an iPhone. One of the first things I did when I turned it on was went to the iTunes app store and looked up Edge.

Apparently, there has been some sort of copyright infringement over the naming of this game, so all I could fine was Edge Lite, a demo version that was free. I sulked, but only for a second, as I soon had my little block moving nimbly around, avoiding the pitfalls of endless space and collecting mini-cubes at every chance. Then, it stopped. Four levels in is all you get on Edge Lite, and I have been a shell of a man ever since learning this. I keep playing the first four levels over and over again, eagerly anticipating the time when lawyers or Obama decides to reinstate the full version of Edge into the app store.

I should be grateful though. I already use my iPhone too much and look like one of your prototypical goons while checking my twitters and facebooks and tumblrs, and I can't tell you how many cross stares I get as I use the voice command on Google search (people are really put off by you gently asking your phone, "TGIFridays, Minneapolis, Minnesota"). If I had a full version of Edge, I'd only be more of a pariah than I already am.

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