Could this be the simple fix to our growing disconnection from friends and family?

“Um, um, um,” I shout from the kitchen, with unnecessary urgency.

“Don’t tell me, I know this,” mutters Mum, in a fluster.

Hard Quiz on the ABC consistently outperforms its commercial rivals and helped Tom Gleeson win a Gold Logie.

“Me too!” squeals my sister.

Dad is silent. He’s got his “thinking” face on. Focused.

“And the answer is … silicon!” booms a somewhat slippery made-for-TV voice.

The host flashes his dazzling veneers. Si is the periodic symbol for silicon, in case you were wondering. I silently own not knowing this, then turn my attention back to the screen. I’m ready for redemption in the form of another question.

Game shows have been an entertainment staple on Australian TV since the late 1950s. They’re often dismissed as fillers, holding an audience that’s sufficient in number but rarely impressive. They’re what we watch while waiting for something better. A break between afternoon children’s programs and the news. Low-cost, easy-to-produce entertainment.

Game shows get the job done.

Or maybe they are more than that. Beyond the flashing lights, terrible music and formulaic hosts, there is something that keeps us coming back; even in the era of on-demand streaming services, we’re still watching. TV game shows are no longer “nothing-else-on” viewing, because there is always something else on.

This puzzle is more complex than merely locking in B because game-show prizes are rarely life-changing – unlikely to be more than $35,000, split between four people, including Penny from sales who didn’t pull her weight on the team. This is nothing compared to a big-budget, multi-episode television series.

As a species, we should have outgrown the TV game show in the seven decades since its inception here. But we haven’t.

Nonetheless, the allure of the game show endures and may even be increasing. A few years back, Channel Ten’s ratings dropped markedly after Family Feud was bumped. Hard Quiz on the ABC consistently outperforms its commercial rivals and helped Tom Gleeson win a Gold Logie. The popularity of UK shows such as Pointless and The Chase meant we have made our own versions.

As a species, we should have outgrown the TV game show in the seven decades since its inception here. But we haven’t, perhaps because while we’re drawn to the extraordinary, we also love the possibility of “I could have won that”. And we’re drawn to the stories of ordinary people who’d like to win enough money to fix up the front porch or go on a trip to the Gold Coast, but really don’t mind too much either way.

The recent inclusion of my brothers-in-law on The Chase has kept our extended family in conversation for weeks. No spoilers, but it wasn’t the winning, or not winning, or coming so close, or nowhere near, that even mattered. The talking point was that he was part of the whole shebang in the first place. #GoCharlie.

Indeed, critical to the long-running success of the game show is that the level of necessary skill is impressive but not too far beyond the reach of the average person. I realise I’ll never compete on Ninja Warrior, but do I think I could hold my own on The 1% Club? You bet.

The game-show format – repetitive, formulaic, predictable – is something of a security blanket, the familiar gags, tropes, music, lights and order of proceedings all part of the charm. A game show doesn’t surprise or shock you. Viewers can rely on its sameness, and that very mundanity makes for comforting television.

This is television you can watch attentively, testing your skill against on-screen or off-screen competitors. Or passively, following the emotional journey of others. Game shows don’t challenge your world view, or make you uncomfortable, or threaten to start a family argument. You never have to feel anxious about missing an episode or spoiling this season’s outcome for a mate who isn’t up-to-date.

Game shows may well be the final remnant of genuinely multi-generational family-friendly viewing. Most new parents have a story of their toddler glued to the screen and joining in the audience applause. Anyone who began watching Outlander or Vikings thinking they’d be appropriate for children as long as their parents were there understands the need for safer family options.

Free-to-air television is grasping for new ways to remain relevant in the streaming era, one in which we’re all watching something different, on a different schedule and on a different device. The result is enormous complexity for programmers and marketers.

What if a simple solution exists? What if the thing viewers really want is simple, wholesome entertainment that can be consumed in mixed company while deepening real-world relationships through the shared enjoyment of a screen, rather than burying our loneliness in the personal devices we hold in our palms.

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