We Become What We Behold: Why This Five-Minute Game Is Still Ruining My Day

I first played We Become What We Behold on a grainy monitor years ago, and honestly, it’s one of those things that just sticks in the back of your brain like a splinter. It’s not a "game" in the way we usually think about them. There are no loot boxes, no skill trees, and you won’t be grinding for XP. It’s a tiny, browser-based experience created by Nicky Case that takes maybe five minutes to finish. But those five minutes are more stressful than a three-hour raid in an MMO because it shows you exactly how we’re all breaking each other’s brains online.

The premise is dead simple. You play as a photographer—or maybe a media mogul, it’s kinda the same thing here—pointing a camera lens at a crowd of "Peeps." These are little circle and square people just living their lives. Some wear hats. Some are just vibing. Your job is to snap photos of "interesting" things to show on a giant screen in the middle of the park.

Here’s the kicker: the crowd reacts to what you show them. If you take a photo of a guy in a nice hat, everyone starts wearing hats. It’s cute. It’s harmless. But then you see a square person shouting at a circle person. You snap that. Suddenly, the vibe shifts. The screen broadcasts the conflict, the crowd gets nervous, and you realize you aren't just recording the news. You are literally inventing the reality these little guys live in.

How Nicky Case Designed a Cycle of Chaos

Nicky Case is known for making these sorts of "playable posts" or interactive essays. They’ve done work on everything from game theory to how trust works, but We Become What We Behold feels like their most cynical, and perhaps most accurate, take on human behavior. It was released back in 2016, a year that felt like a turning point for how we consume media, and yet it feels even more relevant in 2026.

The game operates on a feedback loop.

1. You look for something "newsworthy."
2. Boring stuff (like people just being nice) gets a "z-z-z" reaction from the viewers.
3. You find something divisive or scary.
4. The audience loves it, gets angry, and starts acting worse.
5. You take photos of that new, worse behavior.

It’s a downward spiral. It’s basically a crash course in how "engagement" metrics at big social media companies work. If it bleeds, it leads. If it makes people mad, it goes viral. The game doesn't lecture you with a wall of text; it makes you click the shutter button until you've accidentally started a riot.

Most people don't realize how much the UI (User Interface) contributes to this feeling of complicity. The camera lens moves smoothly, but the moment you catch a "hater" in the frame, the music tenses up. There’s this rhythmic, heartbeat-like sound that gets faster as the tension in the park rises. You find yourself looking past the happy couples or the guy whistling a tune. You're hunting for the anger. You've become the algorithm.

The Mechanics of "The Buzz"

What’s wild is how the game handles boredom. If you try to keep things peaceful, the game literally stalls. You’ll take a photo of a person with a flower, and the screen will say "Peace is Boring." The audience doesn't want it. To progress the game, you must find conflict. This is a deliberate design choice to mirror the attention economy.

Think about your own social media feed for a second. When was the last time a balanced, nuanced take on a complex political issue got 100,000 likes? Probably never. But a 10-second clip of two people screaming at each other in a grocery store? That’ll be on every news site by noon. We Become What We Behold forces you to be the person who uploads that clip. It makes you realize that the "Peeps" aren't the problem—the lens is the problem.

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The Evolution of the "Peeps"

Initially, the squares and circles are identical except for their shapes. They interact peacefully. But as you start photographing the "weirdos" or the "angry" ones, the groups start to self-segregate. The squares start fearing the circles. The circles start hating the squares.

It’s a perfect illustration of what sociologists call "group polarization." This isn't just a game mechanic; it's a documented phenomenon where people’s views become more extreme after they spend time with like-minded individuals or are constantly exposed to "out-group" threats. Case manages to distill decades of social psychology into a browser game that runs on a potato.

The "Peaceful Peep" character is particularly heartbreaking. There’s always one character trying to spread love or just be normal, but their message gets drowned out or, worse, misinterpreted by the lens. By the end of the five minutes, the screen is filled with nothing but screaming faces and bold, red text. The sound design becomes a cacophony.

Why We Can't Stop Watching

The title itself—We Become What We Behold—is a riff on a quote often attributed to Marshall McLuhan, the media theorist who famously said "the medium is the message." McLuhan argued that the tools we use to communicate change us more than the communication itself.

In the game, you aren't just a passive observer. You are the architect of the crowd's descent into madness.

I’ve talked to people who played this and felt genuinely guilty. It’s a weird thing to feel guilty about—they’re just little 2D drawings. But because you have to actively choose what to highlight, you can't blame the AI or the "system." You are the one who clicked on the square who was slightly different. You are the one who ignored the couple sharing an ice cream to focus on the guy shouting.

Breaking the Fourth Wall of Social Media

This game acts as a mirror. It asks: Why are we so drawn to the "cringe" or the "outrageous"?

• Novelty Bias: Our brains are wired to notice things that are different or threatening.
• Confirmation Bias: We look for images that prove our side is right and the "others" are bad.
• The Dopamine Hit: Seeing "The Buzz" meter fill up in the game feels good, even if what you're showing is horrific.

Honestly, it’s kinda terrifying how well this translates to TikTok or X (formerly Twitter). The "For You" page is just the giant screen from the game, and we are both the photographers and the Peeps. We take the "photos" (posts/trolls) and then we react to them by changing our behavior (becoming more polarized).

The Legacy of Nicky Case’s Work

Case’s portfolio is filled with these kinds of "systems thinking" games. If you liked We Become What We Behold, you’ve probably seen The Evolution of Trust or Adventures with Anxiety. They all share this distinct, hand-drawn art style that feels disarmingly simple. It’s intentional. If the graphics were hyper-realistic, the message might get lost in the spectacle. By keeping it simple, the system is what stands out.

In The Evolution of Trust, Case uses game theory—specifically the Prisoner's Dilemma—to show how "cheating" or "cooperating" changes a society over time. It’s more optimistic than We Become What We Behold. It shows that under the right conditions, kindness can actually win.

But We Become What We Behold doesn't have a happy ending. It’s a tragedy. It’s a warning. There is no secret way to "win" the game by only taking photos of flowers. The game won't let you. It forces you toward the inevitable conclusion to make a point: as long as we prioritize "The Buzz" over the truth, we’re headed for a blow-up.

Is There a Way Out of the Loop?

Since 2016, we’ve seen these mechanics play out in the real world more times than I can count. We’ve seen how "rage-bait" drives engagement and how algorithmic curation can lead to real-world violence. So, what do we actually do with the information this game gives us?

First off, realize that the "lens" isn't neutral. Every time you open an app, someone—or some-code—is deciding what is "noteworthy." Just knowing that can take some of the power away from the outrage. You don't have to be a Peep reacting to every image on the screen.

Secondly, we have to look at what isn't being photographed. In the game, the most beautiful moments are the ones that are "boring." Real life happens in the boring moments. It happens in the quiet conversations, the shared meals, and the mundane acts of being a neighbor. The screen in the park doesn't care about those things, but that doesn't mean they aren't real.

Practical Steps to Stop Being a "Peep"

Don't just walk away from the game feeling depressed. Use it as a diagnostic tool for your own digital life. It’s about intentionality.

1. Audit your "Buzz": Look at your feed. How much of it is designed to make you feel "Peace is Boring"? If a source only provides outrage, it’s the photographer from the game. Unfollow.
2. Stop the Snap: Before you share something that makes you angry, ask if you're just feeding the screen. Does this need to be amplified, or are you just contributing to the "shouting" phase of the game?
3. Look for the "Boring" Content: Seek out nuance. Seek out the long-form, the complicated, and the quiet. These things don't "trend," but they are what keep a society from turning into a bunch of screaming circles and squares.
4. Acknowledge the Algorithm: Understand that your engagement (even "hate-watching") tells the system to give you more of that content. The only way to win the game's cycle is to stop looking at the screen.

We Become What We Behold is a masterpiece because it’s a trap. It proves its point by making you play along. It shows us that we aren't just victims of the media; we are the ones fueling it every time we prioritize the sensational over the sincere.

If you haven't played it lately, go back and do it. It only takes five minutes. Watch how quickly you go from a curious observer to a merchant of chaos. Then, turn off the monitor, go outside, and find someone who doesn't look like you—and just have a normal, "boring" conversation. It's the only way to break the cycle.

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Actionable Next Steps:

• Play the game again with the mindset of a "peaceful" player. Observe exactly where the game prevents you from progressing until you choose conflict.
• Disable "Trending" sidebars on your social media platforms using browser extensions like "uBlock Origin" or "Control Panel for Twitter."
• Read "Amusing Ourselves to Death" by Neil Postman, which is basically the 1985 version of this game in book form. It’ll blow your mind how little has changed.
• Check out Nicky Case’s other work on their website to see how these systems of trust and anxiety can be rewired for better outcomes.