It’s not something we thought we’d ever say, but our very first witnessing of a girl-on-girl scene at The Playboy Mansion actually made us want to stop playing. In itself, it’s a truly wonderful thing, but it does reflect the simple stupidity of the whole game. It pretends to be based on the subtle politics of conversation and social interaction, yet banging someone else in front of your girlfriend has no negative repercussion, and nearly every character will succumb to your charms without any real thought. Maybe we were talking about top-ten fantasies, but come on, it doesn‘t leave much to get stuck into. And that’s the game’s fundamental failing, it doesn’t really offer a challenge - it just let’s you get on with it. And the same problem can be levelled at the task of putting together each issue of the magazine.
When you take the cover shot, for instance, the quality of the chosen picture is largely irrelevant. You can take a photo of a window, with a bit of arm in the corner, and that will be adequate. And in order to commission the articles and interviews, all you need to do is instigate a conversation with a relevant individual and chat for a bit, before commanding them appropriately. So, after a couple of hours of play, you’ll have pretty much explored the full depth that this game has to offer. As nice as the general idea is, its half-hearted design just lacks interest.
Had the graphics been presented more crisply and convincingly, Playboy: the Mansion could have worked well as a cheeky version of The Sims, but unfortunately, the inevitable comparisons to the people simulator work to its detriment. It has only a few of the features made standard in The Sims series, and
because of the publishing considerations, there are extra chores that consistently drag attention away from playing with your pet people. It’s kinda cool the first time you throw a big party, as Felix Da Housecat pops round along with a few favourite playmates: but it quickly becomes apparent that these parties are just very dull. It’s quickly reduced to a matter of walking from one person to the next, having imaginary conversations with imaginary characters about imaginary things in their imaginary lives. You might as well go back to daydreaming: where, in most cases, the boobs will look much better.
