A Day In The Life

    by Aaron Mingus

    Video games often let us take on incredible roles.  One moment, we could be a space marine single-handedly blasting through swarms of aliens on a ring in space.  The next, we are a circus freak who runs away to a psychic summer camp.  Some games, like LittleBigPlanet, even give us the opportunity to create virtually anything, expanding the already broad array of possibilities.

     But some games are not about the incredible.  These are simulation or “day in the life” games.  For example, Dinner Date and The Sims allow us to join seemingly mundane, human worlds where the ultimate goals are architecture and social interaction.  The Harvest Moon series lets us step into the shoes of a farmer.  We don’t battle any evil lords or save any princesses.  Rather, our struggles come in the form of old tree stumps and dating.  Often times, both our incredible and more realistic games generate human experiences.  However, others can turn us into different creatures entirely.

     I recently played Krillbite Studio’s The Plan and had the opportunity, for the first time ever, to briefly explore the world through the eyes of a common house fly.  Now why would I want to be a fly? is the question anyone would ask.  And they would have a good point.  It’s hard to love a creature that spends its evenings licking porta-johns before landing on every hot dog at the picnic.

     The Plan is not about ruining your Fourth of July.  I began play in a very dark forest and could barely see in any direction.  Luckily as I went up, I could view a tiny bit more of the world.  But even then dangers were sometimes impossible to see.  The first problem I faced was in the form of a cobweb which I couldn’t spot until I was trapped in the middle of it.  As a fly, I was so small and defenseless that even falling leaves seemed threatening.  In the everyday human world, flies are little more than annoying, but in The Plan, I was just little.

     By letting us experience the world as something no more important than a fly, a game can help change our perspective and understanding of life.  That puny creature we literally brush off becomes relatable and sympathetic.  That’s an impressive achievement considering the normal associations we have with those pesky, little monsters.  And it’s one we really can’t have unless we gain the ability to be a fly.

     I’m a lover of “day in the life” games.  They offer completely new views of the world that can rarely be experienced outside gaming, whether we are tending the crops or buzzing through a forest at night.  Sadly, the simulation genre is often under-appreciated or churned out as a cheap money-making scheme (Farmville!), but a good simulation game should always be welcome to give us that chance at seeing life in a new light.

Aaron Mingus is author of  Museum of bad ideas and an all around ok person. (that last bit depends on who you speak to.)