Sims 4 Island Living brings your insecurities out in your virtual life too

I’ve built a flashy house on the beach with an overwater deck, nearby rock pools, waterfalls and a lush jungle backdrop. I’m taller, slimmer and hotter, and I’m an environmental conservationist. So why don’t the other Sims like me?

I’ve always looked on Sim franchises as some sort of bizarre social experiment.

Most of my experience is with the city-building variety, I’ve been playing SimCity since I was 10 or 11 years old.

There’s a glorious God-like feeling it gives you, acting as the almighty creator of this tiny, virtual world, building, destroying, creating little pockets of life.

If nothing else it teaches you how to work within a budget — my ambitions are always too lofty for my allotted spending money, and I inevitably end up having to bulldoze much of what I’ve built, or revert to an earlier save.

The mighty Hex giveth, and she taketh away.

I suppose this more domestic, focused offshoot of the franchise seemed to me like it lacked that grander-scale excitement. Why build a house, when you can build a whole city and take it forward into the future?

Truthfully, there are some eerie parallels to be found when zooming-in on the individual lives of the Sims, and as I booted up The Sims 4 and its latest expansion Island Living, I quickly realised how truly addictive it can be.

You see, crafting a virtual life is all about fantasy. Yet you’ll find the digital avatar you command will inherently manifest personal qualities of yourself whether you intend them to or not.

The Sims 4 Island Living Expansion is set in a tropical paradise that’s really fun to play.

It’s impossible to avoid, even if you create the most annoying prankster douchebag you can think of — it’s still on some level a facet of your own personality manifesting itself in the game. Some part of you is that douchebag.

For me, I’ve never shied away from making obvious virtual fantasy versions of myself. All my avatars more or less reflect the way I look in real life (as much as the game allows, though decidedly slimmer, taller and hotter. It is a fantasy after all).

And this doesn’t end with aesthetics. I find it extremely difficult to role-play characters that would do anything to upset others. I can’t say something intentionally rude or offensive, or mean, or do something ‘evil’.

I might steal if no one is looking — but even then, only really in fantasy RPGs where stealing to survive is part and parcel.

This is because I want so badly for everyone to like me. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I am as insecure in the game as I am in real life — and I want so desperately to be popular that I walk around giving other characters compliments left right and centre.

I am a virtual fountain of polite greetings and affectionate banter. The Sims is very good at playing into this lack of self-esteem.

You’ll spend hours trying to create the perfect house, a “swingin’ pad” perfect for hosting parties and showing the world “you’ve arrived” — and your first task is almost always to befriend another Sim and invite them over.

Your Sims character inevitable takes on at least some of your characteristics.

My problem was, I’d spent so much money trying to make the biggest, fanciest house possible that there wasn’t much left over to buy things to put in it. So when my new friend came over to ‘hang out’, there wasn’t a whole lot to do.

She didn’t seem to care that I’d chosen the flashiest spot on the island: beachfront with an overwater deck, nearby rock pools complete with waterfalls and lush jungle surrounds.

She sat on the couch and read a book (I had installed a bookshelf necessary for my job as an Environmental Conservationist), made polite conversation, and then left.

I went in for a hug and she got angry for some reason.

Desperate to make more (and better) friends, I decided to host a party at a local beach bar (since my house proved insufficient for entertaining). It was a huge success.

I changed into my preselected island party outfit, there were chips, tropical cocktails and music. I introduced myself to as many people as possible and went home a little tipsy.

Excited to test my newly-formed friendships, I invited some guy over who seemed nice — but he decided to drop by after I’d gone to sleep, and proceeded to play video games on my computer ALL NIGHT until morning when my character woke — and he promptly left.

By this point, my anxiety levels are rising.

It’s easy to waste away hours on the Island Living expansion.

I get it; I don’t have a proper kitchen and only one chair. Also, admittedly, I can’t afford to put a bath or a shower in my giant bathroom and so my character is starting to get a bit stinky.

But come on — couldn’t these people see how hard I was trying? It was like every single socially awkward, desperate moment I’d ever experienced in real life came flooding back, and my hotter, taller, sexier self was just as insecure as I had ever been.

How did this happen? Why don’t they like me?

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The answer is undoubtedly to be found spending more money on my virtual house. Environmental conservation doesn’t pay a whole lot, but it sounds great when I drop it into conversation with other sexy island Sims — so I think it’s going to work out well for me in the long run.

And while I am doomed to have unrealistic financial goals and attempt to preach my way to popularity by waxing lyrical about climate change — isn’t that what my generation is all about? Am I not just living up to the reality of my millennial existence?

All I know is, I can’t sleep until the virtual version of me is living her best life.

She deserves it — and I feel charged with the responsibility to provide that for her.

Just you wait, this time next week, I’ll be the most popular girl on the island!

Just so long as I can scrape together enough cash to buy a shower.