SimCity, The Sims, and Other Computer Games in the Sim Series

No wonder all of us 90s children have such a puffed-up sense of self-worth and entitlement. What else would you expect after repeatedly encouraging us to play the role of virtual God throughout our childhood and adolescent years? Through the magic of computer games, the Maxis company gave us a unique opportunity to create our own little worlds complete with a population of inhabitants to control according to our benevolent or occasionally sadistic whims. We may not all have been kind and compassionate gods to our burdgeoning creations, but we certainly were powerful.

The first SimCity computer game debuted in 1989, featuring a simulated city-building program. It seemed like an innocent enough concept, and almost extensively educational at that. The object of the game was to build fully functioning cities that could withstand the impact of various disastrous scenarios, ranging from the realistic (1906 San Francisco earthquake) to ridiculous (Tokyo attacked by unlicensed Godzilla knockoff). Upon first glance the game seemed tedious, but it quickly became exceptionally addictive. Dealing with zoning laws and tax codes are a small consolation for the unlimited control of our little city. We commanded our anonymous miniature townspeople to do our bidding, and we saw that it was good.

SimCity was a runaway success, leading to countless reincarnations and reinventions. Clearly, people just could not get enough of ruling their own microcosmic universes. It was a pretty good feeling, after all. For the cost of a computer game, you could elevate yourself to the status of almighty ruler. All in all, not a bad deal.


The follow-ups to SimCity were endless. We had SimEarth, in which we got to design and guide the development of your very own planet. There was SimLife, allowing us the opportunity to mold the "genetic playground" of an ecosystem of plants and animals. We even had SimFarm, a primitive predecessor to that pesky Farmville on Facebook. The next time you have to endure endless newsfeed posts regarding the sad encounter of an ugly duckling or sad brown cow found wandering on the outskirts of a friend's farm, you may want to shake your fist in disgust at the Sim creators who planted the idea in the first place. Yes, I said planted. It's a farm pun. Get over it.

Early predecessor of Farmville? We may never know, but I'm going to blame them either way

By the year 2000, it seemed nearly inevitable that the computer whizzes over at Maxis would run out of ideas at one point or another. SimCity 2000 and SimCity 3000 seemed to have covered all possible ground for the game. It was hard to imagine expanding beyond the already exhaustive details of the SimCity series. By SimCity 3000, the programmers had gone so far as to insert angry citizen protesters when we made an unpopular public works decision. It sounded like they must have used up all of their viable computer game ideas. How much more could they possibly squeeze into a reissue?

And then, suddenly, Maxis issued us an entirely new vantage point from which to get our world-ruling jollies. In 2000, they released The Sims, through which we could live the complete simulated life of a virtual character. We may have thought we had been playing God in all previous incarnations of the game, but that all seemed pretty entry level once we saw what was to come.


In The Sims, we had full control over a virtual person (or people, if you were an adequate multi-tasker). Many of us saw fit to actually model a Sim after ourselves, christen it with our name, and try to control its life decisions. What we may not have known, however, was that our mischievous little Sims were imbued with the pesky power of free will. Yes, that's right. The video game versions of ourselves over which we thought we had full control were actually wont to rebel against our commands and make their own decisions. Even if you tried your best to give your Sim an exclusively happy life devoid of disappointments and unfortunate experiences, he or she was bound to go off on their own and make some poor choices. Go figure.

Not all of us were kind and just rulers of our virtual underlings, either. Many of us derived great pleasure from cruelly experimenting with the emotions and reactions of our Sims. There were countless instances in which to muse, "I wonder what would happen if I..." and then proceed to subject our innocent Sim to all forms of unhealthy deprivation and morally ambiguous scenarios. "I wonder what would happen if I blew up his house?" "I wonder what would happen if I won't let him use the bathroom for six days?" "I wonder what would happen if I force him to have romantic liaisons with every neighbor on his block?" I wonder what would happen, indeed. Even without the aid of my handy Simmish to English dictionary, I could tell my Sim was not especially pleased with the lifestyle choices I'd made for him.

What , you don't like discussing Uncle Sam's hat with your neighbors?

What started off as an interesting concept and novel idea for a computer game quickly morphed into an existential experiment in human behavior. The trickiest part was there was no way to win the game. The combinations and permutations of situations were infinite, and as long as you kept your Sim eating and sleeping, they would keep on living. They dealt with the same minutiae as the rest of us; their circumstantial residence in a virtual world didn't preclude them from having to pay bills and brush their teeth. Unluckily for them, the original version of The Sims didn't give them weekends off. Bummer.

The Sims went on to become one of the bestselling computer games of all time, proving that we all must deep down have some morbid fascination with the notion of playing god to a host of virtual people. In The Sims and all of the Sim worlds that preceded it, we got our first taste of complete power, and it felt good. It wasn't until more recently that they unleashed the ultimate virtual rulership beast: Spore. Seriously, if you have not played it, go pick it up. It's amazing. You grow from a spore into a sea creature and you evolve and you kill things. Just don't blame me when you start dreaming in tribal strategy and have sudden flashes of inspiration for a redesign for your creature's aerodynamicity. Yes, I just made that word up, but didn't you hear? I'm entitled. I'm a creator.

90s Group Dance Crazes

The 90s were a good time to be a bad dancer. The dance music industry seemed aware of the plight of the uncoordinated and responded aptly with some incredibly detailed instructional dance songs. All you needed was a basic command of the English language and the ability to distinguish Right from Left and you were golden. It was just that easy.

From country line dancing to hip hop moves, the 90s offered us a wide range of group dancing options. Whatever your fancy, it was pretty likely you'd be hearing it at every wedding you attended in the span of the decade. There was no better surefire way to get all the wallflowers out on the dance floor than to bust out a dance they'd learned in gym class. It had a certain way of easing the tension. For the most part they just involved a step forward, back, or to the side, a turn or two, some directional changing, and voila! You were dancing.

For the most part, you couldn't pinpoint exactly where or when you learned the routine, but when the song came on your body instinctively fell into step. It's like some sort of reflex. To this day, whenever I hear the opening bars of Cotton Eye Joe, I immediately break into a complicated series of hops and turns. While this list is by no means comprehensive, here are a smattering of dance crazes that took the world by storm circa 1990-2000:



Cha Cha Slide



I heard a rumor (via infamous gossip maven and disseminator of potentially misguided information Wikipedia) that the Cha Cha Slide was actually developed for a Bally's fitness class. Since I don't have the drive or energy to verify or refute this claim, we're just going to go with that. So, it started with a fitness class. What do you know.

This one requires a bit more on the coordination side, particularly during the "Cha Cha real smooth now" interlude. We're supposed to interject our own saucy salsa moves there, but that's asking a bit much from your average line dancer. Not to mention the "Reverse! Reverse!" part. The franticness of it all is enough to send you into stress-induced palpitations.




Cotton Eye Joe


You've got to wonder what exactly was the tipping point that drove someone to consider recording this traditional Southern folk song as a knee-slappin', toe-tappin' techno single. Because when I think Southern country music, my mind immediately makes the leap to Swedish Eurodance. To be fair, the Swedish Eurodancers in question did brand themselves as Rednex, but it just doesn't add up. Luckily they provide us with enough synthesized harmonica and banjo riffs to distract us from the discrepancy.



Electric Slide


This one's been around a bit longer, but it enjoyed a fair amount of popularity in the late 80s and 90s. It's a pretty straightforward procedure, really. You do a couple of grapevines, throw in a little toe brandishing, and top it all off with some good old fashioned boogie woogie woogieing. Repeat.



Vogueing


If I can be totally honest with you, I learned how to vogue from Stephanie Tanner of Full House. That girl had some moves. Madonna's 1990 song "Vogue" helped popularize the growing dance movement, leaving club-goers everywhere to awkwardly strike pose after pose in well-timed succession. The trick was in keeping a straight, underfed model-esque face throughout the whole thing.




Achy Breaky Heart


Remember, if you will, a time before Billy Ray Cyrus was just Miley Cyrus's dad. Back in the early 90s, he was a mullet-headed one-hit wonder of a country music star. With his pop crossover success, he had even the Yankee-est among us queuing up for country line-dancing.

If you ever have a chance to check out the lyrics, you'll be treated to a comprehensive list of people Billy Ray suggests you consult regarding his achy breaky situation before alerting his heart of its impending breakage. My personal favorite is Aunt Louise. I always secretly thought she'd have been sympathetic to the dire state of his romantic life.



Tootsee Roll


The only problem with this one was figuring out what to do during the verses. The chorus was relatively instructive, but everything in between was pretty up in the air. The 69 Boyz also seem especially intent on reminding us that the dance is not the butterfly but indeed the Tootsee Roll. Thank goodness they keep bringing it up. Between mentions I start slipping into thinking it might be the butterfly I'm doing, but they set me straight in the next verse. Close one, though.



Apache (Jump On It)


I'll admit this one isn't quite as widespread as the others, but after seeing that Fresh Prince episode I was completely hooked. Carlton and Will enter an 80s dance competition to salvage their busted Vegas trip, and the results are hilarious. Really, anything that includes Carlton dancing is okay by me.



Macarena



What list of dance crazes would be complete without mention of the infamous Macarena? For no apparent reason, this catchy tune spiraled into one of the biggest dance hits of the later part of the 20th century. If you don't speak Spanish, I don't recommend the English translation of the original. It probably makes more sense in Spanish, assuming you speak no Spanish. The song has some choice moments, but I think my favorite are when Macarena gets together with her boyfriend's pals in the midst of his military swearing-in ceremony. Yes, it really is that specific. Thankfully they came up with looser translation for the English version.

The dance itself is pretty simple, which is probably why it caught on in such a big way. It doesn't matter how terrible a dancer you are, everybody can put out one hand and then the other. The butt shaking part might give you some trouble, but at that point you're just seconds away from a jump turn that'll leave you home free.



No matter how self-conscious and awkwardly adolescent you were, you could usually fake it on the dance floor thanks to these handily prechoreographed songs. When one of these came on at the school dance, it didn't matter that you couldn't do the worm or that your Running Man was decidedly subpar. You just needed to step into the well-organized lines, listen to the lyrics, and churn out a few basic steps. You may not have been able to cha cha real smooth during the free dance breaks, but you could grapevine and Charlie Brown with the best of 'em.

Romy and Michele's High School Reunion

Who wouldn't want to show up all of their formerly contemptuous classmates at their ten-year high school reunion by pulling up in a flashy car and wrongfully claiming to have invented post-it notes? At the time of Romy and Michele's release we may not have totally understood their impulse to lie, but as time pushes us closer in sync with their panicked 28-year old state of mind their motive comes into focus. No matter what you're doing, it's not a huge leap to assume most of us wish we had something a little more impressive to show for ourselves. Particularly when it comes to showing up those mean girls and jerky boys from high school.

We may have assumed we'd have earned a wealth of bragging rights by this point, but most of us haven't even gotten so far as just achieving plain old wealth itself. High school reunions hold a mirror to our lives that reflects a picture of ourselves we may not be completely proud of. You think you're doing alright and BAM! An opportunity arises to showcase your accomplishments and you realize you've squandered the last few years partying and spending your paychecks on shoes. Not exactly the picture you hoped to paint 10 years post-graduation.

This is a movie that only gets funnier as we get older. Many of us found it humorous as children, but the jokes ring far truer the more frequently we face similar situations. Our experiences may not be on the same scale as Romy and Michele's, but there have been countless moments of shining clarity during which I realized at the rate I'm going my college education won't pay for itself for another 5 years. Or when I'd run into an old friend who was becoming an astrophysicist or Planeteer or something equally impressive and I found my own experiences just werent adding up. Whatever the circumstances, most of us have been there. I only wish Michele hadn't already come up with that whole "I invented Post-Its" thing before I got to it. That could have been a killer embellishment for my resume.

Objectively speaking Romy and Michele are losers, but the more I consider my own lackluster autobiography the more I want to come to their defense and say they're doing just fine. Deep-voiced Romy's a low-tier employee at a local Jaguar dealership and bubbly Michele's unemployed, but their collective self-concept is disproportionately positive. In their eyes, they're two good-looking single girls living it up in LA, but to the world they're just a pair of ditsy airheads with no money, no boyfriends, and a penchant for gorging on Doritos and gummy bears.



The girls are former high school outcasts who remain best friends and roommates ten years post-high school. Their self-confidence borders on delusional when you consider their less than enviable lifestyle, but you get the feeling that they truly believe their lives are near-perfect. They watch chick flicks, chow down on candy, wear outrageous outfits, and go clubbing every night. Now that I think about it, that actually sounds pretty good to me. I'm almost willing to swap if I got to wear that ridiculous feather-laden jacket Michele's got on.



They're forced to reconsider their confidence after Romy has a run-in with former classmate Heather Mooney. Heather, an offbeat teen, grew into a high-powered successful businesswoman cashing in on her ludicrous invention of the super-fast burning cigarette. Heather clues Romy in on the upcoming 10-year reunion in Tucson, and Romy and Michele are initially fairly pumped about their chance to reconnect with their former peers. That is, until they realize just how unimpressive and mundane their current lives are. At 28, they're possibly less accomplished that they were at 18. Not exactly how they'd anticipated greeting the A-Crowd 10 years down the line.


We're treated to a series of reminisces and flashbacks of Michele and Romy's horrendously awkward high school days. The aptest part of the film is that regardless of how others may have perceived you in high school, most of us felt like this at one time or another. Teenagers are in an ongoing state of emotional insecurity, meaning most of us can relate (albeit on a smaller scale) to the daily humiliations and tribulations of the adolescent Romy and Michele characters. We may not have been humiliated at prom or had refrigerator magnets surreptitiously and maliciously stuck to our scoliosis braces, but for the most part we got the gist of their disappointments.






Romy and Michele resolve to lose weight, find boyfriends, and land killer jobs. They seem vaguely aware that if those things had been as easily attainable as they'd thought they'd probably have achieved them by now. Perhaps, though, as Romy speculates, they'd just never really tried. Two weeks seems like a reasonable goal, so they decide to go for it.



All of their last-ditch efforts fall to pieces, leaving them no choice but faking it in lieu of making it. Despite what seems to be their total ineptitude at life, they're actually pretty competent budding fashionistas. They make themselves high-powered business suits, borrow a Jag from Romy's employer, and come up with the brilliant back-story that they were the inventors of Post-It notes. Because, you know, they're businesswomen. That's what businesswomen do. They are businesswomen. Businesswomen.

Oh, and in case you missed it, they're businesswomen:



Things turn sour quickly, though, as the girls begin to bicker about their ill-fated scheme. The two have a falling out and we segue into a drawn-out and well-executed dream sequence about the reunion. The popular A-crowd girls are there in matching shiny pastel suits, all having achieved their wildest ambitions. Michele blows them away with an incredibly convincing-sounding description of his discovery of Post-It adhesive, Romy heads off with popular Billy Christiansen, and Michele encounters the once-nerdy but now-billionaire Sandy Frink.



We find it was all a dream and cut to the real reunion, where things don't go quite as they'd, well, dreamed. The A-crowd girls aren't super overachievers, but most of them are pregnant and sanctimonious. Heather exposes Romy's lie about her success, and everyone's pretty much back in their old high school roles. Except for maybe Sandy Frink, who really did turn out to be a billionaire. Not too shabby.

Romy and Michele scratch their plans, get into their signature outfits, and confront the bratty A-crowd girls. Romy tells them off, telling the girls that she and Michele don't care what they think anymore. The A-crowd tries to retaliate by mocking our girls' clothes, but they don't get too far. Turns out the one nice popular girl, Lisa, works for Vogue. Once I got over the fact she was the evil almost-stepmother from The Parent Trap, I was almost able to like her.



We're treated to a hefty dose of "Just Be Yourself!" and the girls perform one of the weirdest-ever interpretive dances caught on film to-date (set to "Time after Time"). Heather even confronts the cowboy from her high school smoking sessions, and turns out he's got a thing for her. Who knew? Our girls are brimming with pride and happiness, and it turns out they were okay just the way they were after all. Billy Christiansen, now married to Christy, shows himself as a cheating scumbag. Christy gets her comeuppance, Sandy gets his due, and the girls get a hearty endorsement for their clothing line from both a Vogue editor and billionaire investor (Sandy, again). Romy and Michele open their own clothing boutique stocked with their signature designs, and all's well that ends well. Because it all ends well, you see.





The original movie may have been fluffy, but it seems like a dense dissertation when you compare it to the made-for-TV sequel. Which, strangely, co-stars Katherine Heigl. If you're ever feeling a bit anti-intellectual for loving Romy and Michele's High School Reunion, here's a surefire cure. Just watch the follow-up. You'll be back to feeling like a Rhodes scholar in no time.