Of Plumb-bobs and Progress Bars

Dearest Rachel –

You probably remember earlier iterations of The Sims much better than I do (even now); while I bought myself a copy of Sims4 a while back, I never really got into it. Heck, I barely bother to play Civilization these days, and I got into that game. I guess there are so many other things clamoring for my attention that I never bother with the entertainments I used to assemble for myself.

But one thing I do remember about the game was that any character could learn (and master) essentially any skill with enough repeated performance of the task the program deemed to be one that would teach them. Essentially, it boiled down (and yes, that was a skill that had to be learned, too – Sims with no skill in cooking could cause a fire by attempting to boil water, if I recall correctly) to a digital simulation (hence the game’s name, get it?) of the old adage that ‘practice makes perfect.’ Slap some paint on an easel-mounted canvas ten times or so, and your character had a master-level skill in art that would made Rembrandt weep (and bring in Simoleons – the local currency – by the ton). It was more than a bit simplistic, but if you wanted to grind life out realistically, you wouldn’t have to bother with a game, you could just live your real life, right?

But to be fair, the mechanic was based on a real-life principle; ostensibly, the more you do something – anything – the better you perform that task.

It even had a counterweight to a character’s efforts in the form of their plumb-bob; you know, that diamond-shaped icon suspended above every ‘living’ Sim’s head, indicating their mental and physical condition. As the character practiced their skill (thereby focusing upon it to the exclusion of other physical needs), the plumb-bob would slowly fade from green to yellow to red as they grew tired, bored, hungry or any one of a number of negative emotions as those other necessities of life went unattended. So it wasn’t as if the player could force the character to grind out skill levels interminably; at some point, they would have to stop and eat, sleep and so forth, or they would not be able to continue (or if they did, they would first suffer from the diminished returns of their efforts, followed by getting sore or injured in cases of strenuous activity, and, in extreme cases, dying from the lack of their other needs being met).

Considering how quickly some Sims would fall victim to the wear and tear of practice in this way, it’s probably just as well that real life isn’t as cut-and-dried as it is in the game. I understand that there is a school of thought that postulates that we exist in a simulation (which, I suppose, would at least result in the acknowledgment of a deity, either as programmer or player or both), but we lack those obvious quantifiers of our current state; no plumb-bobs or progress bars for us to be able to identify or quantify how well we’re doing. We have to figure things out for ourselves, which sometimes leads to us literally doing the opposite of what we should, since we have no visible means (at least, not in the immediate sense) of determining if the choices we make for ourselves are the right ones.

And yet, there are some ways where we can tell if we’ve made progress on this or that thing. I’ve told you more than once about my charting my weight-loss journey, but on a more granular level, I’m also coming to realize that I’m actually building up my skill, just like those little Sims, as I perform one workout or another.

You’ll probably notice that the weight machines I cite mostly have to do with upper body strength; in the words of those who really obsess over this stuff, I’m always ‘skipping leg day.’ And yet, since most of what I do in terms of measurable calorie burning is on the treadmill, I’d argue that nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, it’s not like I lift weights with my legs – unless you count the rest of my body, which really ought to count for something – but there was a time when the idea of walking three miles, even on a flat surface, was daunting. Now, I’m usually able to cover five in the span of just over an hour. I may not have a progress bar to refer to, but the proof is there; I’m making improvements. And interestingly, this satisfaction even serves to add a little green to my plumb-bob, if I could only see it.

But there’s always more that I could do. And with that having been said, I should ask for you to continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m sure I’m still going to need it.