One ball, one paddle, a wall of bricks above, and the oldest rule in games: don't let the ball fall. Every brick you smash is a point. Every drop is a life, three total. It's comforting at first — the familiar bounce, the satisfying crack — then the ball speeds up, the paddle shrinks, and the bricks get thick enough to hide their weak spots. You start planning angles instead of just swinging. There's a small grace in a perfectly banked shot that clears two rows at once. Then you miss one easy return and the whole thing comes crashing down, brick by brick.
One ball, one paddle, a wall of bricks above, and the oldest rule in games: