Will Wright reflects on The Sims and its 25-year impact

The Sims creator discusses its legacy, player innovations, and the future of simulation gaming.

By Laila Azzahra and Anna Fadiah

Will Wright, the creator of The Sims, has a simple request for his admirers: stop calling him a god.

“I don’t think God would concern himself with taking out the trash and cleaning the toilet,” he joked while chain-smoking. He’s also an atheist.

Yet, what better way is there to describe the man who designed a game where players essentially play god? When The Sims launched on February 4, 2000, it gave players the ability to construct entire digital neighborhoods, control virtual families, and shape their daily lives—right down to making sure they paid their bills and used the bathroom.

Some took the role of benevolent caretakers, building grand homes and fulfilling their Sims’ dreams. Others reveled in chaos, watching their Sims set fireworks indoors or swim to exhaustion in a pool with no exit.

Now, 25 years later, The Sims remains one of the most influential video games ever, continuously evolving through official expansions and a passionate modding community.

A revolutionary idea faced resistance

The concept behind The Sims was radical at the time. Most video games had clear goals—levels to beat, enemies to defeat. Wright, drawing inspiration from psychology, architecture, and even comic strips, envisioned an open-ended digital sandbox, a game about life itself.

But the idea wasn’t met with enthusiasm. Executives at Maxis, the studio behind Wright’s previous hit SimCity (1989), were skeptical. “Everyone in the room hated the idea of The Sims,” Wright recalled. The skepticism deepened when Electronic Arts acquired Maxis in 1997, with some EA managers pushing for the game’s cancellation.

Others, however, saw its potential. Luc Barthelet, an EA executive at the time, believed in Wright’s vision. “We needed to invest in designers like Will who were doing things that were different,” he said.

Building a virtual society

One of The Sims’ most distinctive features was its characters’ behavioral system. Claire Curtin, who helped invent Simlish—the game’s signature gibberish language—explained that developers gave Sims basic human needs: hunger, comfort, hygiene. Neglect those needs, and players would see their Sims suffer from starvation, anxiety, or even bladder accidents.

Curtin recalled that early versions of the game lacked social interactions. “There wasn’t really any love. There certainly was no woohoo,” she said, using the in-game term for sex.

Eventually, the game’s designers introduced relationships, careers, and a consumer-driven economy. In a satirical nod to American materialism, Sims could buy household items promising happiness—only to have them break down over time, forcing players to constantly upgrade.

This subtle critique of capitalism wasn’t lost on Wright. “You buy all these things—fridges, TVs—and they promise to make you happy. But at some point, they all start breaking down,” he said.

Chaos, death, and divine intervention

Despite its life-simulation premise, The Sims was designed to embrace unpredictability. Sims weren’t meant to be perfectly efficient; they would panic in kitchen fires rather than grab an extinguisher, often meeting their doom in flames.

Developers even inserted hidden dangers. Guinea pigs, marketed as low-maintenance pets, could deliver a deadly bite. Cheat codes, allowing players to instantly boost funds or alter moods, were intentionally left in the game to make players feel like omnipotent rulers.

For Wright, this tension—between control and chaos—was key. He wanted players to feel like gods manipulating foolish, digital creatures. “I wanted them to feel like they were breaking the game, but really, we designed it that way,” he admitted.

An evolving world shaped by players

From the beginning, The Sims fostered an engaged community that extended beyond gameplay. EA provided tools for players to create and share custom content, leading to entire websites dedicated to furniture, clothing, and mods. Some fans made a living selling custom content, predating today’s creator-driven gaming economy.

“The people who were really invested in the game weren’t even playing The Sims,” Wright said. “They were running websites for the community.”

The franchise’s experimental online venture, The Sims Online (2002), allowed players to interact in real-time, leading to unexpected social experiments. Some formed digital mafias, others ran virtual bordellos. “We figured out who the godfather was,” Wright recalled. “It was the lead homemaker of the Bellagio in Las Vegas.”

A legacy that continues to grow

Will Wright, creator of popular computer games like SimCity and The Sims, showcases features of his new life simulation game, Spore, at Electronic Arts in Emeryville, California, on March 24, 2008. Photo by Ryan Anson/AFP/Getty Images

While Wright left The Sims after its sequel began development, his influence remains deeply embedded in the series. The Sims 2 (2004) introduced richer narratives and aspirations, allowing players to craft elaborate stories. The Sims 3 (2009) expanded the world with an open neighborhood system, while The Sims 4 (2014) refined customization and storytelling, introducing expansion packs that let Sims become landlords, vampires, and even play The Sims within the game itself.

Over time, the modding community has continued to push boundaries. Some players have added complex economic systems with bank loans and health insurance, while others have turned The Sims into a crime-ridden dystopia complete with violent shootouts.

EA has yet to confirm The Sims 5, instead focusing on The Sims 4, which became free-to-play in 2022. “We are committed to reinventing what it means to play with life,” said Lyndsay Pearson, the franchise’s creative director.

The god of simulation moves on

Despite his role in shaping modern simulation games, Wright has never been one for sequels. After The Sims, he moved on to ambitious projects like Spore (2008), a game that let players guide creatures from single-cell organisms to intergalactic rulers, and Bar Karma, an interactive television series shaped by audience input. His latest project, Proxi, explores artificial intelligence and personal memory.

Looking back, Wright remains proud of The Sims but happy to have left it in the hands of others. “I never really liked the idea of working on sequels,” he admitted. “But I’m happy to see the franchise survive and grow in different directions.”

Still, players haven’t forgotten their god-like creator. In The Sims 2, those who explore the desert town of Strangetown might find a peculiar monument: a Mount Rushmore-style sculpture of Wright himself, complete with his iconic glasses—watching over their digital worlds, forever.