What do I think about when I play PowerWash Simulator 2?
Imagine my far-flung ancestors, sitting around a fire, speaking in a primitive tongue, and dreaming of the stars. Picture them, with their dirty, hairy bodies and bruised feet from endless walking, rising in the morning and praying to a deity they hadn’t named yet, hoping the weather would be calm and the berries would be plentiful. See them as they emerge from their caves, having left their cryptic markings, stepping out into a world unfettered by industry and tower blocks and car parks and multiplexes and shopping malls.
Think of my medieval forefathers, scrounging around in the muck with dirt under their fingernails at the behest of some faceless king, having buried the latest of their offspring that would never grow old. Try to perceive what their faces might look like as they face the daunting prospect of a poor harvest yield and the consequences that might bring. Witness their horror as they realize that nothing will ever change for them, not unless the sun itself, which hangs wearily in the sky every day, suddenly stops shining.
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