oI often feel unprepared for parenting. During that wonderful time when they could enjoy games and vampire movies, they hadn’t yet turned into rebellious teenagers. As a new parent, I often felt superfluous and ineffective. I’ve found myself reminiscing about those days, and that’s alright. Nobody excels at everything. I can read texts upside down and backward, yet I consistently misplace my house keys. I’m fantastic at dancing to The Cure’s “The Lovecats” in Dance Stage Megamix, but I struggle with DIY projects.

Don’t get me wrong: my love for my child is immense. I enjoy social outings with them, as they’re both humorous and intelligent, but they’re always aware that I’m their dad.

Seizing the opportunity when they were away one weekend, I dedicated some uninterrupted father-son time to immerse myself in a new game without distractions. The game has changed my perspective.

I was captivated by the premise. You’re stranded on a planet and must clone different versions of yourself to build a base and survive. It’s incredibly clever. What’s even better is that you clone yourself by reflecting on your own life choices, selecting pivotal moments that shaped you into Jan Dorsky.

For instance, if you opt for studies instead of working in the mines like your father, you become January, the ace researcher. If you choose to work on an oil rig, you create Yang, the worker responsible for loading equipment. And should you decide to spend your days wordsmithing, you become a Yang Reiter. (Sadly, there isn’t a Yang Writer option. That clearly shows my struggle for survival.)

The gameplay is thoroughly engaging, blending exploration, resource management, and problem-solving with philosophical musings about decision-making. It prompts you to consider how alternate choices might have changed your own life.

It’s somewhat unsettling and I wouldn’t recommend losing yourself in it. Focus on the game’s narrative, not your own.

The challenge escalates with each clone you alter; maintaining their health, hunger, and happiness proves daunting. Despite my best efforts—fresh food, captivating movies, or even intentionally losing at beer pong—my clones remained cranky. The Yang Miner was perpetually grumpy, while the Yang scientists fell into constant frustration.

Just when you feel you’ve managed your base well—setting up automatic production for essentials like radiation filters and assigning shifts to various clones—you realize the demands keep multiplying.

Can you guess where I’m going with this?

While Alterters is marketed as a sci-fi survival game, it feels more like a parenting simulation to me. Not exactly how I want to spend my leisure time. My failures in the game (and various aspects of life) feel like incessant screams from the flawed grass while resting for just five minutes. My neighbors might think my kids are still at home.

I’ve never felt so strongly that I was perhaps playing this game incorrectly. The script and narrative are striking, resembling an interactive version of Andy Weir’s “The Martian.” The philosophical themes, much like Camus’s, emphasize that true heroism lies not in grand achievements but in undertaking the ordinary challenges of life. The graphics, too, are stunning—akin to a futuristic rendition of “Howl’s Moving Castle.” The game raises profound questions about existence and what we ought to do within it, revealing the clones’ reactions to their new circumstances. Some admire you, while others despise you. Ultimately, we share collective memories ranging from whimsical childhood items to coping strategies for dealing with abusive parents.

The creative depth of this game is boundless, hinting at future novels and animated films filled with imagination and insight. If you’ve ever been childless and carefree in the 1990s, navigating interesting but demanding individuals (aka kids) may feel like a nostalgic but daunting game of life. While it was enjoyable as a board game as a kid, it becomes an arduous task when managing two squirming kids in the backseat. Perhaps “Alterters” is the ideal game for those contemplating parenthood. I wholeheartedly recommend that anyone of childbearing age try it out to gauge whether they are ready for real-life responsibilities, or if, like me, they discover parenting to be an incredibly challenging endeavor.