Apartment Story is a game about murder, loneliness, and the mental health benefits of just jerking off

The experimental, feature-length simulation game Apartment Story isn't particularly brilliant, but it's about a break-in that's stressful in several systematically tangible ways that I've never felt in such a specific combination in a video game before. It's partly a story about mental health, partly about the absolute horror of not just managing a Sim but actually being one, and partly about how many wankers and cheese sandwiches you can fit in a single morning. Yes, I washed my hands afterward. Ah, but afterward?

Both lunching on cheese sandwiches and feasting on Deez-Nutties serve the purpose of satisfying various personal needs. You shower and wash your hands to maintain hygiene, you sleep to reduce fatigue, and have various other inconveniences that no human being would put up with in real life. Food must be prepared on cutting boards, then placed on the plate, and then brought to the table. No matter what you prepare, the plates end up covered in a substance that looks like strawberry jam. You might be able to reuse the plate without washing it first, but I've never tried that. A man must maintain standards during his hourly, hourly wanking spectacle.

There is a strange and piquant horror in the Chimera Player's experience, as I exist as both observer and character. Am I the wanker, or simply the invisible force forcing him to wanker?

Honestly, I only actually jerked off once. You can go to your bedroom, smoke a joint (it improves your mental health, I couldn't be me) and use your laptop to either jerk off or write. That's all. A blank Word document and an internet that only contains porn. Heaven or hell? You decide. Honestly, you don't have that many free moments at the end since the story also takes place in real time. I thought about how much of the story to give away because unlike, say, God of War Ragnarok, I kind of respect what Apartment Story is trying to do. I'll tell you about the break-in, but nothing else.

On the morning of the second day, I woke up, went to the bathroom to calm my urine levels, and found my apartment in disarray—flower pots, toothpaste, and various furnishings everywhere. I walked into my living room, and a strange guy was sitting in my favorite armchair. He got angry at me about something I won't reveal, headbutted me, and then left. It was at about this point that I realized that the impressive collection of DVDs and books on my shelf wasn't, as I'd previously assumed, a single structured block—it was actually dozens of individually modeled items, each of which I would have to pick up and manually place back on the shelf if I wanted to put my apartment back in order.

I tried. I really did. Last night a friend came over and we ate pizza together. Now the remains of the pizza are scattered on the kitchen floor. I took a bitter, dull slice and thoughtfully chewed the congealed filling. If it hadn't been for the minutes gathering like bright red ants on the digital clock's display, I might have stayed there forever, chewing first the pizza and then my teeth down to stubs. I put the plants back first. It felt right, like they had been the most damaged by the event.

Of course, I put on some cleaning music. There is a nice soundtrack by the artist TRAAPS that you can play from your docking station (for Apple products) and a touch of dreamy atmosphere every now and then. This creates a mood that I would best describe as “cozy agoraphobia”, which is something that I personally feel very familiar with.

I collapsed onto the sofa after I finished cleaning. I think on TV you always see the same view out the window. Rows of apartments. It feels eerie. Cyclical. Isolating. A man can't jerk off to that, I can tell you that. Apartment Story is out now on Steam.