When game designer and entrepreneur Henk Rogers first encountered Tetris at the 1988 Las Vegas Consumer Electronics Show, he immediately knew it was special. "It was just the perfect game," he recalls. "It looked so simple, so rudimentary, but I wanted to play it again and again and again … There was no other game demo that ever did that to me." Rogers is now co-owner of the Tetris Company, which manages and licenses the Tetris brand. Over the past 30 years, he has become almost as famous as the game itself. The escapades surrounding his deal to buy its distribution rights from Russian agency Elektronorgtechnica (Elorg) were dramatised in an Apple TV film starring Taron Egerton.

Believe me when I say: I truly thought I knew the story of Tetris. The puzzle game's journey from behind the iron curtain in 1980s Moscow to multi-million-selling video game has been the subject of countless articles, a greatly entertaining book and a recent film. I have played Tetris in various forms for more than 30 years, from the Game Boy to the Nintendo Switch, even in VR. So when I loaded up Tetris Forever, an interactive documentary on Tetris's 40-year history from the developers-slash-archivists at Digital Eclipse, I wasn't expecting to learn anything new. I was proven very wrong.

When he looks back on it now – gambling his house, battling Robert Maxwell, turning up in the Soviet Union on a wing and a prayer – Henk Rogers still insists that he never considered giving up. "People ask me how much naivety was involved?" he recalls. "I would say 20% naivety/stupidity and 80% determination." That may be the key to success in many aspects of life. In Rogers's case, he was a video game publisher who knew he had discovered the next big thing: Tetris, a strangely addictive puzzle in which players must arrange falling bricks of differing shapes to form a solid wall.

Not long ago, I stepped into a lift on the 18th floor of a tall building in New York City. A young woman inside the lift was looking down at the top of her toddler's head with embarrassment as he looked at me and grinned. When I turned to push the ground-floor button, I saw that every button had already been pushed. Kids love pushing buttons, but they only push every button when the buttons light up. From a young age, humans are driven to learn, and learning involves getting as much feedback as possible from the immediate environment. The toddler who shared my elevator was grinning because feedback – in the form of lights or sounds or any change in the state of the world – is pleasurable. In 2012, an ad agency in Belgium produced an outdoor campaign for a TV channel that quickly went viral. The campaign's producers placed a big red button on a pedestal in a quaint square in a sleepy town in Flanders. A big arrow hung above the button with a simple instruction: Push to add drama. You can see the glint in each person's eye as he or she approaches the button – the same glint that came just before the toddler in my elevator raked his tiny hand across the panel of buttons.