River Roots Redevelopment: Confessions of a Geek

Selina Pedi-Smith,

Founder, Pellere Foundation

I have a somewhat embarrassing number of imaginary houses.

Some are in The Sims. Some are in House Flipper. Lately I’ve been puttering around in Solarpunk, building little floating islands and growing things in places where, conveniently, nothing seems interested in eating the seedlings.

I’ve never been into TV or movies, but I’ve been playing building games of one sort or another for decades. Back in the day, I had more ambitious virtual responsibilities. I built Roman cities in Caesar, Egyptian ones in Pharaoh and sprawling modern ones in SimCity. I wandered through Final Fantasy, EverQuest, and World of Warcraft, where an evening could quite reasonably disappear into a dungeon or a quest chain to find some obscure potion ingredient.

I do not have that kind of gaming stamina anymore. Or, more accurately, I no longer have six uninterrupted hours during which nobody needs dinner, an email answered, a ride somewhere, a toilet fixed, a project decision made, or first aid administered.

So my digital relaxation has gotten…smaller. I design a house. I build a room. I plant a garden. I move a sofa three inches to the left, decide I hate it there, and move it back.

It is tremendously satisfying because there is something wonderfully straightforward about these little worlds. If the kitchen looks terrible, I can repaint it as many times as I like. If the floor is ugly, a few clicks and it’s completely new. If a room feels wrong, I knock down a wall. Then build a new one.

Even better, my efforts always make things nicer. Sure, in most of these games, you can have weeds in your garden and your sinks will eventually get grubby if you never clean them, but the amount of effort necessary to keep your cozy little world moving is ridiculously low relative to the impact you have.

You spend a few minutes cleaning something and it stays clean for weeks. You spend a few minutes planting something and it always grows. You spend a few minutes (okay… an hour can easily disappear when building) building something and it’s there, solid and safe, beautiful and done.

Real life also has rather unreasonable physical requirements, if you ask me.

In House Flipper, my character can paint an entire ceiling without once feeling a twinge in her neck. My little Solarpunk character can haul building materials indefinitely without needing a hot soak and a handful of ibuprofen at the end of the day.

And I can completely reorganize an entire house several times over in The Sims, and my back never once gives out.

I twisted wrong picking up a stick a few days ago, apparently, so my real-life back is currently on strike. It’s just not fair.

So, I suppose I can understand the appeal of these little worlds where the weeds stay pulled, projects finish when the progress bar reaches 100 percent, and nobody’s lower back suddenly files a grievance.

But, at the same time… I can’t eat the vegetables I grew in Solarpunk. I can’t touch the walls I built in The Sims. I can’t cook in that perfectly proportioned kitchen I designed in House Flipper.

Eventually I turn the game off and go back to the real houses, the real gardens, the real projects. The weeds grow back and the emails multiply, but I can eat the tomatoes. I can stand in the room I finished. I can cook dinner in my kitchen.

But my back really hurts.

And I’m not entirely sure where I left the ibuprofen.

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Rachel Brosnahan is the Community Engagement Coordinator for River Roots Redevelopment. Want to help us rethink what redevelopment can look like—together? Follow the conversation and share your thoughts with us on Facebook and LinkedIn, or reach out directly to rachel@riverrootsredevelopment.org. We’d love to hear from you!