You would think, then, that a game about running hospitals - not exactly famous for being consequence-free operations, after all - would exacerbate my tendency towards paralysing myself with indecision. If a potted plant is causing my bin emptiers to take a suboptimal route to the bins, I feel overcome with the lingering shame of poor binmanship. If the animals sicken, I am a bad father to them. If customers complain about my pretend business, I feel I have failed. Some of this is immersion, you know? I get invested. I've had loads of games of Planet Zoo, for example, where I burn through the majority of a six hour play session without spending more than about five minutes unpaused, because I'm that dead set on making sure everything is just right. I agonise about optimisation, and can sometimes get so wrapped up in deliberating over the placement, configuration and pricing of every last wossname, that I spend less time playing than I do gravely stroking my chin while looking at wikis. The answer is: a management game that's so silly, it makes me stop worrying about actually managing.Īs a serious businessman, I tend to get really serious about games where I'm tasked with running a business. With the game coming to consoles this week, however, I thought now would be a fine moment to dive in and see what I'd been missing. ![]() ![]() I played 1997's weirdly named Theme Hospital a fair amount in my teen years, but despite my love of both management games and very silly things, I never got around to playing 2018's spiritual sequel, the equally weirdly named Two Point Hospital.
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