Some days I like my games simple, cheerful and if possible full of ponies, burgers or dressing up (not all at the same time, je ne suis pas Français after all). These little entertainment titbits are for when the thought of being put through the emotional mangle of something like Mass Effect 3 fills me with the same dread, as say, having to listen to someone tell me about the spawn of their loins.
Ergo, what I do not want from Filly Fashion Fast Food Frenzy* are feelings of remorse and guilt for not having dropped my busy and terribly successful life to tend to whatever emotional blackmail I’m being threatened with, as an intelligence insulting hook designed purely to make me spam my dwindling Facebook friends with requests for Spinning Jennys.
This kind of negative reinforcement is rife in games like Café World where you can pay cash to allay the feelings of failure; you don’t want to come back to a café of rotting food so you find time in your lunch break to log on and serve up those tasty, tasty Deep Fried Turkies. A more scientific example of this form of operant conditioning was demonstrated by Skinner – think boxes, rats and electric shocks being prevented once Mr Ratty Esq. sussed where the lever was and pressed it sharpish (there’s an idea for your next recipe Café World, Crispy Rat Inna Bun).
Of course, should your meagre lunch break be taken up with things like actually consuming actual food, there’s always a quick solution thanks *cough* to in-game currency. For a mere $20.00 (£13.00 ish) Amelia is offering me 120 Café Cash; with which I can buy a bewildering assortment of tat for my entrepreneurial venture, new recipes with which to amaze my long-suffering friends and PRAISE BE… the ability to turn back time and un-rot all the food I’d started cooking at 6am (when I could have barely told you my name, let alone calculate how many hours it would be till I had access to my PC again).
Yes, of course, developers/publishers have to pay their minions, and if you make a game that I love there’ll be no issue with me ponying up some pennies for a pink hat/unicorn pet/slutty blouse. Even penalising me slowly for not being able to click buttons 24/7 – well I’ll live with that. It wouldn’t outrage my sense of fairness, if say, the amount of Lobster Omelettes I can serve up slowly dwindles over the course of the hours I ignore them and their crustaceany wiles BUT I’m far too stubborn to spend money on the shamelessly revenue grubbing tactics displayed here.
With that in mind I’ve spurned Amelia’s generous offer, deleted Café World from my Facebook and will be viewing Zynga in a slightly dimmer light; letting you pay to win is one thing but paying to not fail is just bloody cheeky.
*Filly Fashion Fast Food Frenzy doesn’t exist, I know right? (Please email all offers of development directly to me).
Ergo, what I do not want from Filly Fashion Fast Food Frenzy* are feelings of remorse and guilt for not having dropped my busy and terribly successful life to tend to whatever emotional blackmail I’m being threatened with, as an intelligence insulting hook designed purely to make me spam my dwindling Facebook friends with requests for Spinning Jennys.
This kind of negative reinforcement is rife in games like Café World where you can pay cash to allay the feelings of failure; you don’t want to come back to a café of rotting food so you find time in your lunch break to log on and serve up those tasty, tasty Deep Fried Turkies. A more scientific example of this form of operant conditioning was demonstrated by Skinner – think boxes, rats and electric shocks being prevented once Mr Ratty Esq. sussed where the lever was and pressed it sharpish (there’s an idea for your next recipe Café World, Crispy Rat Inna Bun).
Of course, should your meagre lunch break be taken up with things like actually consuming actual food, there’s always a quick solution thanks *cough* to in-game currency. For a mere $20.00 (£13.00 ish) Amelia is offering me 120 Café Cash; with which I can buy a bewildering assortment of tat for my entrepreneurial venture, new recipes with which to amaze my long-suffering friends and PRAISE BE… the ability to turn back time and un-rot all the food I’d started cooking at 6am (when I could have barely told you my name, let alone calculate how many hours it would be till I had access to my PC again).
Yes, of course, developers/publishers have to pay their minions, and if you make a game that I love there’ll be no issue with me ponying up some pennies for a pink hat/unicorn pet/slutty blouse. Even penalising me slowly for not being able to click buttons 24/7 – well I’ll live with that. It wouldn’t outrage my sense of fairness, if say, the amount of Lobster Omelettes I can serve up slowly dwindles over the course of the hours I ignore them and their crustaceany wiles BUT I’m far too stubborn to spend money on the shamelessly revenue grubbing tactics displayed here.
With that in mind I’ve spurned Amelia’s generous offer, deleted Café World from my Facebook and will be viewing Zynga in a slightly dimmer light; letting you pay to win is one thing but paying to not fail is just bloody cheeky.
*Filly Fashion Fast Food Frenzy doesn’t exist, I know right? (Please email all offers of development directly to me).
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