The Sims addiction

Instead of having a spectacular winter break gallivanting around my hometown with now-distant friends, I sat in my pajamas enthralled with “The Sims,” a game I got on a whim.

Now, I know this is probably not a new thing to a majority; most of my peers have been playing “The Sims” series of games since I was in middle school, but I’m a late bloomer in everything I do, especially when I don’t immediately see what the hype is all about.

Well, now I do.

Maxis and Electronic Arts knew exactly what they were doing in creating this “strategic life-simulation computer game” (words so eloquently put together by Wikipedia). After creating a Sim who looked exactly like me (not really), and my interpretation of the tall-dark-handsome guy I wanted in my life, I was already wanting more.

The game is self-explanatory. I learned the ropes on my own while my two little sisters (experts at the game) were sleeping. When the oldest awoke and found me playing, she immediately exposed me to the world of cheat codes, ways around the game and the easiest way to get my Sims to “woo-hoo,” the kid-friendly semantic for sex.

Turns out I’d been doing it all wrong. It didn’t take flirting, compliments and shy kisses to make the woo-hoo option appear. The entire time I’d been playing, the only thing I had to do was make them relax in bed. Then they could immediately woo-hoo or even “Try for Baby,” the baby being born about an hour later in playing time.

Okay, so maybe the “life-simulation” part isn’t entirely similar to real life, but the “strategic” part is extremely correct.

Before being turned onto cheat codes, maybe the Sims would’ve stayed a bit more realistic. An aspiring author wife and wannabe rock star husband living in a crappy one-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bathroom house was a struggle. Not only did I have to take care of their hygiene, hunger and happiness, but I had to take them out on the town to network and socialize so that they could get one step closer to their career goal.

Of course, all of that extra stuff was taken care of with the Motherlode cheat for 50,000 simoleons, which I used about eight times for good measure and which allowed me to buy the Steel Bladder, Dirt Defiant and Hardly Hungry attributes and make everyone in town become friends with my Sims by a simple shift-click on the mailbox.

With all of the menial work out of the way, I focused on making my Sims achieve their dreams, whether it was teaching their baby to walk or playing guitar for tips in central park.

Quickly, I learned the appeal.

With every achievement, charming music jingled and the Sim pranced around. If you don’t encounter Child Protective Services or an asteroid destroying the Sim’s home, the game becomes pretty fail-safe.

Everyone wants a life like that. We want our name in flashing lights or on the front of a novel we worked hard on. We want everyone to know who we are. We want flower petals and butterflies to pop out of our mattresses every time we make love. We want children that only take an hour to potty train.

Sadly, life just doesn’t work that way, and that’s why “The Sims” has sold more than 100 million copies: It’s the fairy tale that everyone is looking for.


E-mail: aysymatz@indiana.edu