(by Jenni, because we don’t have bylines yet. Someday!)
Sure, I am prone to reference my thick-cut man-loaf and my pendulous testiculords, but deep down, and this is true, I am the girliest of girls. I like to go out for yogurt with my girlfriends (the friends-who-are-girls kind, not the relationship kind, although I’m sure they would make out with me given reasonable pretext, like helping each other get yogurt seeds out of our teeth). I like to talk about boys and menstruate on shoes and laugh alone at salad while struggling to drink water. This is why, when the app store asked me if I wanted to be a model and go shopping and date boys for free, I was all “hells yes, sign me up for that mofo. I will date all the boys. No two boys will not be ripped in half by my large but still amiable turkeynecked sex log*.” Thus, with a small degree of genuine excitement, I downloaded Top Girl.
Top Girl, of course, is a British television programme where several witty hosts test-drive… no it isn’t.
Top Girl is a game for devices (my droid at least, I dunno about your fancy iPhone) in which you have been condemned to the hell of working as an aspiring model whose apartment consists only of a closet and whose boyfriend, whom she met in a club literally two minutes ago, keeps following her around saying things like “You complete me” and “You make me feel complete” and “Wow, I have deep feelings for you.” I am not making any of these up. “Wow, I have deep feelings for you.” That is really a real thing that he actually says. “Wow, I have deep feelings for you.” This game is bullshit you guys.
Oh, it starts off well enough, with you choosing your skin tone, hair style, and color. The hair colors are all pretty dull (I get sad when the most garish is a tasteful auburn) but oh my God the styles. There are tons of them and they are adorable. (I went with the pretty emo puff and if you judge me for that I will EAT YOUR FACE.)
Then, after a quick reassurance that you look fabulous, it asks you to choose your clothes from your tiny wardrobe of two entire outfits. (I own way more clothes than this and I am not a model. I have met English muffins that own more clothes than this. Just sayin’.) Every piece of clothing in the game has a numerical value corresponding to work hotness, club hotness, or, in some cases, both. You need work hotness to get better-paying jobs so you can buy more clothes so you can make more money so you can buy more clothes, and you need club hotness to snag a boyfriend, more on those bitches later.
Actually, no, let us discuss those bitches now. After completing my first assignments, to buy some new work clothes and wear them to a grueling thankless demeaning job as a piece of hot emo-haired meat, I received a quest to hit the club and snag a boyfriend. Never one to turn down a quest, I club-hotted up sufficiently and inquired after men at the local discotheque. The game presented me with three, and I chose the one with the most ridiculous outfit. His name was William, a pop-up screen informed me, he was a hip-hop dancer, he would refill my energy 10% faster, and did I want to buy him a drink? Fuck yes I wanted to buy him a drink. (Well, actually, I wanted him to buy me a drink, because I firmly believe that if ladies are going to be objectified we should at least get free beverage. Besides, come on, I was like 28 club hot! That’s gotta be enough for a Miller Lite if nothing else.) I bought him a free glass of wine (okay, I can’t complain too much) and both of us appeared on a dancefloor with our bodies facing each other and our heads facing the camera, probably because no one had drawn us with sideways heads. Little hearts came out of him, and a pop-up told me we were dating. What? Whoa there, cowboy!
The game told me I could kiss him, if I wanted, to keep his morale up. Great, I thought, I’m dating a Tamagotchi. I pressed the kiss button anyway, and the game congratulated me on my relationship reaching the next level and gave me a dollar. Then it grayed out the kiss button for the next two hours. I did still get to chat with him, though.
Yeah.
The next quest I was given, and this made me laugh so hard, was to keep my boyfriend for three hours. Tall order indeed!
I could switch gears here and go off on how much I dislike the real-time energy drip mechanic the game, like your Echo Bazaars and your whatever elses, uses to limit progression, but frankly I am too busy fantasizing about throwing missiles at this game so that no one’s impressionable daughter ever comes across it and thinks her purpose in life is to shop and be hot while some interchangeable dude pays soulless lip service to the concepts of deep love and emotional connection. I say this as someone who was actually looking forward to a fun, sexy, absolutely shallow supermodel game with no redeeming social value whatsoever.
I hated this game and I hope it gets hit by a truck. Merry Christmas!
* I clearly have never seen a penis. Or a turkey’s neck, for that matter.
Tags: android, top girl, twaddle
