But the antithesis of these thrills-and-spills experiences are the so-called anti-escapist games. Farming Simulator, PowerWash Simulator, Euro Truck Simulator – these hugely successful titles challenge the whole concept of interactive entertainment as something, well, exciting. Now we have what at first glance appears the most boring of all, Lawn Mowing Simulator. (...)
Lawn Mowing Simulator, created by Liverpool-based studio Skyhook Games, is not an April fool joke. It strives for realism and has its own unique gaggle of fans. But why would you want to play a game about something you could easily do in real life? As a journalist, I had to know, so I decided to consult some experts.
Lesson one – the joy of repetition
“It’s weird that this genre not only exists, but is so popular,” explains Krist Duro, editor-in-chief of Duuro Plays, a video game reviews website based in Albania – and the first person I could find who has actually played and somewhat enjoyed Lawn Mowing Simulator. “But you need to be wired in a particular way. I like repetitive tasks because they allow me to enter into a zen-like state. But the actual simulation part needs to be good.”
Duro namechecks some other simulators I’ve thankfully never heard of: Motorcycle Mechanic 2021, Car Mechanic Simulator, Construction Simulator, Ships Simulator. “These games are huge,” says Duro. “Farming Simulator has sold 25m physical copies and has 90m downloads. PowerWash Simulator sold more than 12m on consoles. As long as the simulators remain engaging, people will show up.”
Duro reviewed the latest VR version of Lawn Mowing Simulator but wasn’t a fan. “Your brain can’t accept that you’re moving in the game while in real life you’re staying still. It made it impossible to play for more than 30 minutes without feeling like I was about to die,” he says. But otherwise, he liked it.
by Rich Pelley, The Guardian | Read more:
Image: YouTube
[ed. See also: The Age of the ‘Status’ AC: Are these related? For some reason it feels like it.]***
These were not the unglamorous window units familiar to Mr. Medley, 35, a handyman in Manhattan. His wealthier clients seemed to be upgrading to ACs that looked as if they had gotten plastic surgery: their harsh edges softened, their faces sculpted and smoothed.
On Park Avenue, he installed an air-conditioner from July, a start-up that sells gracefully rounded window units with pastel covers. He scoured Home Depots for six curvy Midea ACs for a single client on the Upper West Side. Others went for Windmill, which bills its minimalist unit on Instagram as a “sleek and chic transformation moment.”
Several companies are trying to capitalize on increasingly unbearable summers with a fleet of photogenic window ACs, targeted toward flush and fashionable customers in buildings without central air-conditioning. Their products are more expensive than the average window unit — ranging from $340 to nearly $600 — and their marketing sometimes elides the nitty-gritty, emphasizing svelte exteriors over B.T.U.s.
“These types of things, you’re paying for the aesthetic,” Mr. Medley said.
Coverage of these products has been breathless, occasionally bordering on erotic. “Help! I’m Sexually Attracted to My New Smart Air Conditioner,” read a recent headline in Vice’s product recommendation vertical. The Wall Street Journal described a wave of refreshed ACs as “sexy.”
As air-conditioning becomes less of a luxury and more of a necessity, it follows that some customers will shell out for a unit that looks like an iPad or the robotic love interest in “Wall-E.” But there’s something unsettling about the air-conditioner growing so covetable thanks to the combined efforts of deft marketing and extreme heat. We’re used to it-bags and it-girls; is there any eerier sign of the climate crisis than the arrival of the it-air-conditioner? (...)
The air-conditioners are all over social media, in part because the companies behind them sometimes provide free units to influencers who make home décor- and fashion-focused content. Anna B. Albury, 28, a rug designer in Brooklyn and a founder of the “coolstuff.nyc” newsletter, contacted July last month and received two free air-conditioners in exchange for sharing an Instagram Reel with her 10,000 followers.
“It’s kind of clear who they’re targeting,” she said. “It’s a young person living in a city that doesn’t have central AC, but cares about the way their home looks.”
That customer can now choose from spruced-up versions of all kinds of workhorse home products: There are televisions framed to look like paintings, and fridges that are disguised as cabinetry. Air-conditioner companies seem newly eager to distance their products from such unfashionable company as microwaves and ceiling fans.