If The Sims and the old school Lemmings game had a fling, their bastard offspring would be Pocket God. iPhone aps are mind boggling to me, especially those in the casual gaming spectra. Often their proclaimed addictiveness eludes me. However, whether due to the overwhelming bustle of the city in fall, or sheer exhaustion which has dulled my once highly functioning synapses . . . I have recently fallen victim to their mood altering prowess. As of late I spend most of my free moments wishing I was playing Pocket God.
The hilarious crux to this is that I don’t even own an iPhone. I live vicariously through the multiple friends who are kind enough to let me wheedle away their prized possession to indulge myself in a few minutes of pygmy stewarding. Pocket God, despite its bastard origins, is a marvel of gaming construction. Simple enough to be worth learning, modified often to keep piquing interest, and, more importantly, it allows someone to hold the fate of small natives literarily in their hands.
Frequently, you get to download an updated version of the game. There is perhaps a new island for your pygmies to live on. Maybe they do a different dance in worship of you. Recently I gained the ability to turn them into Zombie Pygmies by burying them alive. Once you’ve created a Zombie Pygmy he’ll turn the rest of them into zombies through chomping at them. I find it disturbingly delightful to watch.
You can teach them to hunt, fish and fend for themselves. In a less benevolent mood, you can sacrifice them by feeding them to sharks, holding them above the fire until they roast or by choosing any other method from the expansive liturgy of atrocious options. Then bring them back to life and smile as they stare with wide eyed love at you, their God. That is at least until you shake your iPhone and toss their swimming skill deprived bodies into the ocean yet again.