a full (tomodachi) life
We always talk about the games that shaped us. The games that defined our taste in art. That gave us our first taste of tools and systems, like the inner workings of an RPG, that would expand our horizons and lead us down paths we could never dream of. The games that make us cry and remind us of moments and people we've lost to time or worse. But how often do we talk about the games that don't mold us, but instead reflect the journey we've been on? That show how we've grown. The games that affirm the person we've become rather than mourn what we never managed.
Today, I'd like to talk about one of those games. I'd like to talk about Tomodachi Life: Living The Dream.
I didn't expect to love Tomodachi Life: Living The Dream in the way that I do. "Cozy" life sims like it just operate on a frequency that I don't, which has largely remained true in the case of the latest Tomodachi Life installment. I've developed a fondness for it nonetheless, one that has little to do with the rhythms of building up an island and playing God, and more to do with the act of populating it with my favorite people.
To step back a bit, Tomodachi Life is a series built around the Mii, a virtual avatar created by Nintendo to complement a series of first-party titles that began on the Nintendo Wii. In Tomodachi Life, the player's encouraged to make Miis (pulled from the player's life or imagination) and let them do what people do: walk, talk, play, eat, sleep, fall in love, or even fight.
There's more to it than that, but that is about as much as I've really engaged with Tomodachi Life's core principles. Why? Because I've been sucked into the game's character creation suite and all the little ways I've been allowed to make these little island folk resemble my loved ones.
It began with my best friends Jonathan and Sam. There's a unique humor in Tomodachi Life's ability to render caricatures that still accurately capture my friends and their foibles. Jonathan is far from a grump--though he'd certainly call himself one--but I giggled as the features of his cartoonish resting bitch face clicked into place. There he was in his tall, constantly tired glory.
Sam was a bit more of a challenge, but eventually he too came into focus. I knew I'd nailed it when I lined the three of us up and realized that Sam (freckles and all) was impishly short by comparison. Despite the fact that making each of them, as well as myself, took a lot more time than I typically spend with these character creation tools, I found I was smiling through the process each and every time. Laughing out loud even.
Sometimes, I had pictures for reference, but most times I just sculpted these Miis from memory until one decision made the whole thing come together. Sometimes, it was a tilting of the eyes or the thickening of a brow. But without fail, I recreated numerous friends and family members with some accuracy, and along the way learned that I guess I really did pay attention to all the small things.
As it turns out, when you spend a lot of time--in some cases, a lifetime--looking at someone, making them laugh, having honest conversations, or even watching how they move through a room, you internalize a lot about them. The shape and angle of their eyes, the wrinkles in their skin, the arch of their brows, the measure of their gait, and the tenor of their voice. Though I've never had a practical use for that knowledge, I finally found an outlet in Tomodachi Life.
Tomodachi Life's customization goes beyond these superficial qualities. As they interact with one another and have their needs met by the player, Miis become happier and level up. Rather than progressing stats, you are able to gift them items that they may then use, like a guitar or a laptop, grant them quirks, or even write tailor-made expressions--most of them hilariously inappropriate in my case--that they might scream at the waves or say in place of a greeting.
When I told my friend Stephon he'd be featured on my island, he insisted he be able to say "What up, cuh" instead of hello. You don't know him, but that's so Stephon. My friend Jenae has such a spirited and feel good "Hell yeah" that I had to give her Mii the ability to say the same. Blake and his Mii both say "What's up, boss man," since he says it without fail every time I see him. My soccer-loving brother kicks a ball around the beach during the mornings and my best friends, predictably, take out foam swords and play pretend.
When you gift these characteristics to the Miis, they often say something along the lines of "I feel like I'm becoming my true self more and more." The first few times they each said this line, I chuckled a bit. But with time, I did begin to feel that these Miis were becoming increasingly closer approximations of my people. And with every utterance, my heart grew a little bit bigger.
Tomodachi Life has, entirely incidentally, shown me just how much I actually pay attention to the people in my life, and has in turn allowed me to litter my idyllic island with Miis that resemble them both inside and out. Every little inside joke or reference I might have with them, any stray insight into their mannerisms that I've observed, has found a home on my island. And due to this homely quality, I actually find myself returning to it often, unlike the foreign cozy fantasies of games like Animal Crossing or Stardew Valley. Which isn't to diminish either game's escapist qualities, but to celebrate that I finally found a game that feels like home.
Tomodachi Life's given me cause to reflect on where I am. I could not be more grateful, despite the ups and downs, to have landed on my island and its people. To be the person they've let into their lives and to in turn immortalize what I feel each of them says and does that makes their presence in my life such a joy. To get to lead a pretty full life alongside them in our makeshift utopia.
Underleveled is just me, and while it isn't particularly expensive, doing it does often comes at a cost. If you like what you read and want to throw me a few bucks, you can here.