Tetris needs no introduction among anyone who even casually plays puzzle games. Its simple gameplay—fit a random falling shape into a contiguous array of blocks so that you might clear them—is easily understood; but real mastery only follows after you continue to play the game and gain the ability to quickly spot opportunities to fit the shapes as they fall.

Art Style: Boxlife may never reach the status Tetris enjoys, but it deserves its own round of acclaim for, instead of merely following in the footsteps of a million other falling-block puzzles, turning this formula squarely on its head. In Boxlife, instead of finding where a given shape fits, you're now tasked with taking an already-assembled, featureless mass of blocks, and breaking it back down into its components.

The "box" in Boxlife refers to the rule for the shapes you cut out: they must all consist of six squares, and be able to be folded up into a box. This plays into the game's charming theme as well; your avatar is a boxy little factory worker who works his way up the ranks at the box factory, training and being evaluated in one mode and making his money in another.

In both modes, you're given three stylus-controlled tools. One's a pair of scissors, for excising the box-candidate material. There's also a roll of tape for correcting mistakes, and finally a tool for rolling the boxes up. The controls work very well; accomplished stylus-wielders will feel the pain of a missed cut only very rarely. It's plausible the required precision may trouble some with less hand-eye coordination, though.

The first mode, R&D, is really more training and evaluation. Each of the 14 skill levels presents you with ten puzzles to cut exactly, with no wasted material, into boxes. You won't see exactly the same puzzle each time you play through a level, either; it keeps you thinking rather than memorizing. As you progress through the skill levels, new shapes are introduced; by time you get near the end you'll have an arsenal of boxy possibilities ready to tackle any mass of cardboard. Score well by performing quickly and you'll be able to move on and get a "promotion," dressing your little avatar up in nicer clothes as he climbs the corporate ladder as well as unlocking new levels for the other mode.

This second mode, Factory, is positively inspired. The screen fills with cardboard, and you get to use any shape you know how to make to cut it up into boxes. You're paid for how many boxes you can roll up, and any cardboard you waste is deducted from your eventual total. There are also little ticking time-bombs that will randomly fall onto the playfield, which you can only remove by boxing up. Sometimes they require changing your strategy midstream, keeping you very much on your toes. An accomplished box-folder will be able to make thousands of dollars (or more!) in this mode before the clock runs out, thus earning for himself little boxy pieces of the American Dream that display on the game's title screen.

Throughout the game you'll get stock-chart-like graphs that show your performance in every level, both in R&D and Factory. One can almost see these little charts being brought out by your boss at evaluation time, as he debates whether you're worth keeping on the payroll in harder times, like when the CEO spent half the year's budget on a boxy yacht. Thankfully, you can't get fired from Boxlife—only rewarded for your continuing improvement in performance.

In my opinion, Boxlife is an absolute must-play, and a steal at $5 in imaginary Nintendo money. It's the pinnacle of Skip's Art Style series thus far, a delight from every angle. And I really do believe it has what it takes to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the other giants of the puzzle world. Since I started playing, I've found myself staring at many a tiled surface and mentally breaking it down into foldable components. It's highly addictive, and absolutely recommended for anyone looking for a delightful mental challenge.