PicoBlog

Despite the New York Times’ efforts, many Wordle variants continue to exist, exploring variations on the game’s foundations.

Wordle variants come in several types. Some, like Heardle or Chessle, have little in common with the original Wordle beyond a six-guess format. Some are like Wordle with a twist on the gameplay, like playing multiple Wordles at once or an “adversarially” selected answer. And then there are the specializers, sticking to Wordle rules but taking their answers from a themed word list.

Some of these are almost ridiculously arcane, like BRDL, whose allowable guesses only include four-letter bird-banding codes. Others are hip to certain trends, like BTS Wordle, which has a standard dictionary but whose answers will always relate to the popular K-pop band. As I write this, the latest answer is IDOLS.

I’m not sure if those have updated lately, and the similar “Taylordle” is no more, missing its chance to run a puzzle with POETS.

One Wordle variant, though, keeps getting my attention since the heady “craze” period of 2021 that spawned most of the imitators, and that’s Lewdle.

I don’t use blue language much when writing or speaking in my own voice. I’ve written a few vulgar-speaking characters in my career, but not recently. And a lot of my word-loving recreations will skip right over such vocabulary. You might find the NYT crossword has the occasional reference to ASS as “bottom” mixed in with quainter definitions like “donkey” and “idiot,” but you won’t find FUCKS clued as “An uncaring person doesn’t have them to give.”

To some degree, that’s as it should be. Such language can make people uncomfortable, and wordplay should be for all to enjoy. I’m not dirty-minded enough to want it as a regular feature. Still, there are times when I wonder about the world outside the horizons where my mind usually lives.

That’s one reason I enjoy Lewdle and the similarly subversive Sweardle and Queerdle. The names tell the story. In addition to Wordle-type rules, they run on the assumption that the answer word will have a lewd meaning, be a swear, or be queer-related, respectively.

Of the three, Lewdle has the most advanced game design. Its default version only accepts risque words found in its “Dicktionary,” even as guesses. But for a slight score penalty, users can opt for “sheltered mode,” in which all standard dictionary words are acceptable. The answer, though, will be something out of the “Dicktionary,” which is sometimes also in Webster’s and sometimes not. (After years of games, Lewdle’s not above repeating an answer now and again, but not as often as you might expect.)

I use “sheltered mode”—if I had an extensive raunchy vocabulary, then Lewdle wouldn’t be a learning experience for me. I’ll compromise, though, by using words I can imagine in dirty contexts. My standard start word, ATONE, works under those rules—full of vowels and common consonants, it’s also a demand I could imagine in certain dominant-submissive games. (“You’ve been a bad boy. Make it up to me.”) Lewdle answers can sometimes be six letters instead of five; in that case, I’ll start with AROUSE.

(Sorry, Lewdle, I guess I have to defy your advice here.)

In either case, the Lewdle solver is rewarded with a pop-up screen that shows the word’s lewd definition—a definition often not in Webster’s, even if the word itself is. Sometimes I already know that definition and sometimes I don’t. But on this topic as on most others, I like to maintain a lively curiosity!

Next: Some Journal guidelines, and a look at Crosswordr.

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