In a post-slop world, Tomodachi Life’s humor rings hollow

Several hours into Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream, I am still laughing. I am at least chuckling, snickering, or smirking at the quirky surprises the game throws at me. The Mii that looks like my favorite musician wants to be my friend, ha ha. My Mii is obsessed with how fast she can type, just like me. Humorous!

I go wild with the power the game gives me. I am god; of course the Miis in the world I’ve created are discussing the celebrity Hasan Piker. Of course I pick up my tiny husband with my photorealistic white man’s hand and plop him next to my tiny me and watch as they fall in love over music and diner food. Of course I make an army of nonbinary baddies who love to sit in the park together and stare at four-leaf clovers.

I can do anything. I take screenshots of everything. I say a lot of, “That’s crazy,” and, “No way.”

Several more hours in, I can’t remember why I am opening the game. I suppose I must make more Miis, and maybe I can make them look like something funny, or like my dog. At first, the game had given me the feeling of putting on a performance, whether for my own entertainment or for a friend sitting beside me on the couch telling me to put the nose higher. As the novelty of that performance faded, I could no longer tell what would draw me back to the game.