“[Y]ou can’t beat and finish Royal Match as there is a constant stream of levels being added.” – GameRevolution

Chapter 1: An Absurd Reasoning

Does the realization of the meaninglessness and absurdity of life necessarily require King Robert to stop building his castle once the “Throne Room”, “Bedroom”, and “Kitchen” are complete?  Or at least the “Funfair” and “Butler’s Room”?

No!  Past philosophers such as Kierkegaard, Pikachu, and Ms. Pac-Man resist the meaninglessness, relying on god, the platonic ideal of Ryan Reynolds, or vanquishing literal and figurative ghosts. This is futile. 

Instead, we need King Robert and his castle, because, without him, the absurd cannot exist. 

Chapter 2:  The Absurd King

How should the absurd king live? 

He should watch the 55 million active monthly users of Royal Match, generating $2 billion in annual spending, which is worth more than the valuation of all of Simon & Shuster as one comparative data point, thus proving that integrity has no need of rules, or for that matter of integrity.

Chapter 3:  Absurd Creation

If the world were clear, Royal Match would not exist.

It certainly would not have the Dopamine rush of the TNT next to a Light Ball when all seemed lost with one move left and King Robert and those little birds just continuing to blink and you have done the round already 53 times and you don’t want to give in and join a team because age 40 is in the rearview mirror and the board clears, and the trumpets play, and maybe there will  be a Lightning Rush or a King’s Nightmare which (as another absurd contradiction) is not a nightmare but a means at enrichment from the suffering of another. 

Just like Dostoevsky.

Chapter 4: The Myth of King Robert

If the castle building is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. The word is not too much. 

Again one fancies King Robert observing the 55 million active users each starting at the beginning of a new level, of which there are currently more than 7400 with additions every two weeks, and the sorrow was in the beginning. When the images of a completed castle cling too tightly, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy arises in King Robert’s heart: this is the castle’s victory, and that of the Unity game engine. The boundless grief and full beard are too heavy to bear.

We leave King Robert at the start of the level for the building of a new room!  One always finds one’s burden again.  But King Robert teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and builds increasingly ridiculous rooms, like “Fossil Museum” and “Apothecary”. He too concludes that all is well. 

This universe henceforth without a master, or a butler with visible body parts (and who never serves delicious roasted meats when he lifts his platter but instead the same “gifts” that have to be used in the beginning of the round when they are least useful), seems to King Robert neither sterile nor futile.   Each Jester Hat, Royal Egg, Vase, and Jewel in itself forms a world. The struggle itself towards the completed castle, or at least the “Clock Room”, “Sea Museum”, and “Dojo”, is enough to fill a king’s heart.

One must imagine King Robert happy.