Last Friday night, my friends and I sat cross-legged around the coffee table, with snacks scattered around us, laughing over a heated round of Catan. My phone was out of sight, gathering dust in some corner, just as the board game should have been. For the first time this week, I didn’t have it nearby. I was free from buzzing notifications and endless scrolling; instead, there were just cards, dice, and the kind of genuine connection we crave in our virtual, screen-dominant world.
Suddenly, it hit me: this wasn’t just game night. It was an act of rebellion.
Everyone talks about how we are living in a world that’s more “connected” than ever, with globalisation reaching new heights and the concept of distance having been eradicated. With a simple phone call or text message, you can reach anyone on the planet. Yet why does it feel like we are more disconnected than we were in our tech-free past? Loneliness has quietly become an epidemic. And it may be more detrimental to our health than we think. Harvard studies showed that drinking alcohol reduced longevity by 30%, smoking by 50%, and loneliness by 70%.
Screen time is beginning to blur our day; at university, we use our laptops, with friends, we use our phones, and when we relax, we reach for our phones. Sometimes, we even find ourselves on FaceTime calls, while the friends who are physically in the room become invisible. Even when we wind down, we rely on Netflix and Instagram. Everything is digital, yet so much of it feels hollow. And maybe that’s why we’re all reaching back toward something tactile, something real, something that doesn’t require a charger.
The global board game market was worth a whopping $18.93 billion in 2022, a figure expected to reach almost $40 billion over the next two years. But I think board games are only the beginning. The renaissance of “analog” has been ongoing for quite some time. The use of CDs, Spotify, and Apple Music assured my parents that their pre-loved vinyl records would never be played again, but, conversely, they have begun to spin again in college dorms. Film cameras are also making a comeback, clicking their way into our weekends. We are thrifting old Polaroids and playing vintage games like it’s 1985. We are writing letters, journaling, and even spending weekends unplugged. Why is this? Well, it’s quite simple. We are all beginning to share a longing for something slower, something that asks us to be present.
When playing a board game, there’s strategy, sure, but also storytelling, laughter, the tiny triumphs of teamwork, and the occasional argument that brings laughter minutes later. It’s imperfect and unpredictable, but most importantly, it’s human.
Maybe this analog revival is our way of reclaiming the tangible. We’ve lived through years of digital overload, from Zoom classes to the infamous social media burnout to endless algorithmic noise. In my opinion, Gen Z is now collectively protesting enough. We’re craving what can’t be downloaded, the sound of a vinyl crackle, the anticipation of rolling a die, and the weight of a deck of cards passed from hand to hand.
In trading screens for strategy, we’re choosing connection over convenience. And maybe that’s what our generation has been missing all along, not just nostalgia, but presence.
So the next time you’re with your friends, try leaving your phone in another room. Pull out a board game, pour some tea or wine, and enjoy the real connection. You might find that in a world obsessed with pixels, the most meaningful moments are the ones you can actually experience.