Hell of an article to bring in Christmas, eh? But, the reflective nature of the holiday dug up a series of memories I haven’t thought about in years. From the end-ish of my elementary school years to the beginning of high school, I adored The Sims. I loved building elaborate, themed homes for my eccentric, simulated tenants to live in. I’d make sure they had different jobs, goals, and ambitions. We’d throw elaborate parties where I’d get bored and find one Sim whose face I didn’t like, ordering my Sim to feud with them. Basically, my PlayStation 2 put in many, many hours between The Sims and The Sims 2.
I was at that perfect “dreaming age.” With my whole life ahead of me, The Sims was a fun distraction! I watched my Sims live, laugh, and — believe it or not — love. Watched them grow up, start families, learn new skills, get old, and die happy. Then, their children would live their eventful lives. The cycle was neverending. The series was good at that — making life seem so clear-cut and simple.
It was a necessary escape during late childhood and most of my teen years. A promise that if I really wanted to, maybe I’d find myself as effortlessly fulfilled and happy as the Sims whose lives I followed. But, little did I know, all those hundreds of hours I burned between the first two Sims games would lead to The Sims 3. Otherwise known as: “The game where the existential crisis hit me like a truck.”
damn you, ‘the sims’ — you went and made it weird!
The Sims 3 came out right in the middle of my tortured high school years. I remember being so excited to play it! “Ah, it’ll be just like old times!” I bought the game, booted it up, started playing — and a week or two in, I put it down and never touched it again. By then, I was going through what I now understand to be a deep, dark depression I wouldn’t wish on someone I hated with every fiber of my being.
Their careers were more elaborate. You could fine-tune what your Sims could specialize in. They even had it so that a Sim could choose whether they gave birth in a hospital or had a home birth! Sims had “Wishes” to fulfill, which would contribute to any one Sim’s “Lifetime Happiness” score. As I took all the nuances in, trying to find enjoyment in what I was doing? Resentment started to build within me. Suddenly, the game became a mirror of everything I’d never accomplish.
Fortunately, life got better! I stopped being jealous of my virtual avatars, I swear! I became a fully functional, half-sane individual who actually is currently living something approximating the “ideal” life I always pushed my Sims to have! But, for a while, yeah — one of my formerly favorite franchises became a genuine nightmare to play. A painful reminder of my dashed ambitions, my personal shortcomings, and the bonds I’d never fully form with others. Oh, right: Merry Christmas, everyone!
The post ‘The Sims’ Turned My Hopes and Dreams Into a Constant, Depressing Reminder of Everything I’d Never Have appeared first on VICE.
