I used to think fonts didn’t matter. They felt like an afterthought—the final coat of paint on a house already built. To me, a “good font” was just someone scrolling further down in Word or Figma, picking one that looked slightly better than the defaults. I thought the impressive part was the ideas themselves, not the aesthetic choices. Fonts were background noise—until they weren’t.

A graphic designer friend changed my mind. He told me fonts aren’t just decorative; they’re communicators. The difference between Helvetica and Comic Sans isn’t just about taste—it’s tone, intention, and meaning. To prove his point, he showed me two posters with the same text but different fonts. One felt polished and confident. The other felt childish, even untrustworthy. The words hadn’t changed, but how I felt about them had.

That conversation stuck with me. Now, as I work on two new projects and rebuild my portfolio, I’ve been exploring how typefaces can shape a message in subtle but powerful ways. For example, in one project, a Rummikub timer app, I’m using Smooch Sans, a clean, minimal sans-serif with playful, rounded edges. It conveys clarity and simplicity with just a hint of fun—exactly what a timer for a casual game should feel like. For a different project, a Tic Tac Toe game, I chose Audiowide, a bold, geometric font with a futuristic vibe. It gives the game a retro-arcade energy, making something as simple as Tic Tac Toe feel vibrant and exciting. These aren’t just visual choices; they’re part of the message.

This newfound appreciation reminds me of a story about Steve Jobs. Early in his life, Jobs dropped out of college, but he stayed on campus to attend a calligraphy class. He became fascinated by the beauty and craftsmanship of letters—how every curve, stroke, and space could evoke different emotions. Years later, when designing the first Macintosh computer, Jobs insisted it include multiple fonts—a revolutionary feature at the time. Before then, most computers didn’t care about typography. But Jobs understood something I’m only now beginning to grasp: that even the smallest design details, like the font on a screen, can profoundly shape how people feel about what they’re looking at.

For me, that’s the core of why fonts matter. They’re not just stylistic choices; they’re part of the message itself. The right font amplifies your words, while the wrong one undermines them. It’s like wearing the wrong outfit to an important event—you might still be saying the right things, but no one’s paying attention.

Choosing a font isn’t about scrolling further; it’s about matching form with content, message with medium. I’ve started noticing how slab serifs feel solid and trustworthy, how scripts convey elegance and intimacy, and how sans-serifs feel modern and efficient. Audiowide, with its techy, playful energy, makes my Tic Tac Toe game feel alive, while Smooch Sans in my Rummikub timer creates a calm sense of order. Each project I’m working on now feels like a dialogue between the words and their typeface.

In a world flooded with noise, being intentional—even about something as seemingly small as a font—makes a difference. It says, “This matters enough to get it right.” That’s what Steve Jobs saw in typography, and it’s what my graphic designer friend taught me. Fonts aren’t just about what you’re saying—they’re about how you want people to feel when they read it.