Ever been in one of those conversations where the person you're talking to mentions that they enjoy bicycling? Sensing a connection, you immediately start talking about your ten-speed. But your conversational partner only sneers at you with contempt, then lifts up a calf with a muscular buttock firmly imprinted into the back and confidently announces he or she just won the Tour de France.

This New York Times fluff piece on The Sims (not The Sims 2) is a lot like that, only you're the elitist who gets to do the contemptuous sneering. It's always cute when the mass media jumps upon the threadbare coattails of a five year old game's popularity, especially when they go around asking psychologists to explain a cultural phenomenon that gamers have understood since the beginning: The Sims is a virtual doll house, except your tiny pixellated homunculii can eat, screw and crap themselves

It is worth a read, if only for brilliant quotes from clever cats who just don't get the faggery: "I've never quite understood what the pleasure is of constantly monitoring the characters' various emotional and financial thermometers to make sure they're getting enough food and happiness to keep your characters buzzing around."

Welcome to the New Dollhouse [New York Times]