Will Wright’s enduring classic gave me an appreciation for the joy of creation that no game about shooting aliens ever came close to achieving. But that didn’t stop me from burning all those motherfucker’s houses to ground with the giant monster disaster. Let’s not get crazy, here.

I played a lot of the SNES version of SimCity. A looooooot. At the time, I hadn’t really stopped to question why the good people of 1970’s Detroid thought an 8-year-old could fix their crime problem. But, there I was, in charge of a major metropolitan nightmare, the yoke of greatness thrust upon me when I could still barely handle fractions. They had hoped I might deliver them from the gangs, riots, and rampant littering that plagued them. As my name was not Paul Atreides,  the best result I was able to muster wasn’t so much “utopian paradise” as it was “smoldering ruin.”

Ah, good times. Well. Not so much for them, I suppose.

I can’t speak with any true authority to the state of the latest SimCity offering. As of this writing, I haven’t had my hands on it. Impressions from Internet Land have certainly seemed, shall we say, dour. The “You Must Be Online At All Times” DRM is biting customers in the ass, as I feared and expected. Best of luck to any of you poor fuckers that bought the thing. Should you ever get into a game, I hear tell that there’s a fantastically mediocre experience awaiting you! And if you’re really lucky, it won’t screw up and lose your city when you stop for the night.

Now that I’m done shitting all over a game I haven’t played, we can move on to new business. There is no new business. Because I’m here, stalling, instead of working on Mystery Project X. Um. Shit. Uh, see you next Monday!