Spore

An Open Letter to Mr. Will Wright, the Evil Mastermind Who Created Spore

Dear Mr. Will Wright:

I am writing to you about your new game, Spore. Please come to my home and take it off my machine. And give me back the forty or so hours of my life I have spent chained to my desk over the last three and a half days. I know I need to lose weight, but this is ridiculous.

When I dialed up my first bulletin board, I thought it was teh nifty. Then I found the Internet, and it was better. Then I found Doom, and I was happy. Then I found Woot!, and I cried like a little girl. Then I found Halo, and bought a much more comfy chair. Then I found Second Life, and I thought I'd seen the height of digital crack.

Pikers. All of them. You, sir, are an evil, vile, insidious individual of dubious parentage, with a complete lack of moral turpitude. Congratulations. And thank you. I may never move again. If you won't come and save me from myself, can you at least bring a pizza while you gloat?

All my deepest loathing,

- Nick Francesco

Seriously, for those of you who have not yet been snared by this game, run, do not walk, to your nearest dealer and pick up a copy. Now. Why are you still reading this?

Look, let's be honest. I stink at games. I die when I play Doom. In God Mode. I must admit, when playing Halo, I'm deadly in a Warthog. To my own team. In Lego Indiana Jones, my own teammate keeps killing me. On purpose. People ask me to play just so they can laugh at me. And, consequently, I generally tire of games pretty quickly.

But Spore is my new best friend. It's so astonishingly clever, with such a refreshing premise, all wrapped up in such an insanely good graphics engine, that it's hard to tear yourself away. I still gather crowds when I play, but now they're rooting me on, and laughing and making useful suggestions. Is this how you people feel all the time?

For those of you who just stepped off the mothership, the premise of Spore is simple: you're a one-celled organism, and you have to evolve. But there are rules to follow, and you're not always the biggest organism in the primordial goo. As you evolve, you get to change what you look like, what weapons, defenses, motive power, and other accoutrement you have. Eventually, you get to go onto dry land, and form a tribe. From there, you mold a civilization, build starships, and conquer the universe. What could be more fun?

It does require a fairly hefty computer to run all this, but that's nothing new for gamers. And, trust me, it's worth it. You'll find yourself spending months with this game. When you're not playing, you'll be thinking about it. When you're with other people, you'll be talking about it. Eventually, you'll start going door to door and preaching the benefits of evolution. Get help before that point, won't you?

Those of you who are already gamers don't need to be convinced, so let me talk to the non-gamers out there. Trust me, you're going to have fun with this. There's a little cartoony violence, and carnivores do have to eat to survive, but even my daughter (a strict vegetarian ever since she saw a cow with a window in its side) (that's a true story) thought it was pretty cool. The care that went into this, from the internally consistent logic, to the flawless animation no matter what your creature looks like, to the utter whimsy of the other creatures in the world, speaks to the devotion and love that went into crafting this game. You can't help but like it. A lot. I'd like to hug all the artists, designers, programmers, and writers. Set up a meeting, will you? I'll bring the sarsaparilla.

If you never buy another computer game (and, believe me, you won't have to!), go out and grab your copy of Spore. Extremely highly recommended.

Am I done? Finally! Now I can get back to Spore. Hold all my calls, unless it's the guy with the intravenous setup.

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