Even now, with all the simmers in my life scattered to the winds, I always smile when I receive a Snapchat of someone else’s computer screen, peopled by sims doing what they do best: having nervous breakdowns, wetting their pants, palling around with the Grim Reaper.
Later, when I graduated from college and moved to New York City, my roommate and I often celebrated the end of a grueling workweek by ordering pizza and simming side by side on our lumpy couch. When I went away to college, ready to put childhood pastimes aside, I discovered that many of my new friends were lifelong simmers, leading us to while away many a rainy afternoon playing together in the dorms. On the much-anticipated release dates of new expansions, my preteen friends and I would beg someone’s mother to drive us to Best Buy after school, where we could each spend our scraped-together allowances on the latest pack, then race to our respective homes and call one another during the slow torture of installation, babbling about all the new gameplay features we planned to explore. My earliest memories of the game involve bellying up to the family computer alongside my older brother, who insisted on furnishing the enormous living rooms of his wealthy sims with 20 big-screen televisions I tried and failed to reason with him, arguing that simple-minded sims could only watch one television at a time.
Somehow, the vortex of The Sims has long been a constant in my social life.
0 kommentar(er)
