We don’t talk about my past at family gatherings

I used to be a murderer. On a casual Thursday, I’d kill an entire household. I’d starve them, incinerate them, electrocute them, or drown them. While starvation was the cheapest alternative, drowning was the neatest: no burnt furniture or puddles of pee to clean up afterwards. But I must say, incineration was for me the most fun, and was easily achieved by forcing a member of the household to light fireworks inside near a houseplant.

It might be a bit sadistic, but it’s not as sadistic as it sounds: I am of course talking about killing Sims in The Sims. And remember, all the vicious acts of homicide mentioned in the previous paragraph are written in past tense. I don’t do it anymore. I am a changed person. I have played The Sims 2, The Sims 3, and The Sims 4. “How does this change your sick ideas of fun?” you might ask. Well, in the three latest games, Sims age. By default, my Sims no longer live forever, but instead approximately 90 in-game days. They’re not in a permanent state of either child or adult – they have life stages: baby, toddler, child, teen, young adult, adult, and elder. My Sims are no longer digital dolls that won’t die unless I do something horrible to them – they’ll die all by themselves. And for no other apparent reason, I now want the best for them: I want to see them thrive and fulfill their simulated lives. The implementation of certain death has changed the way I play the game, and where death in the first game seemed necessary, forcing death upon my Sims in the newer games seem excessive and almost cruel – they Sims are going to die anyway, why would I want to capture them in a closed room filled with dirty dishes and wait for the Sims to die from the sheer amount of flies? The old me would have answered “because of fun”, but the new me feels that the extra touch of realness to the simulation has given me conflicting feelings towards behaving like a homicidal madman in the game.