izigame.me

There's something to this game that no one seems to talk about..
All the positive reviews speak on it's great mechanics, selection of decor, replayability, and other nonsense.
Meanwhile the negative reviews seem to just consist of lost souls with lost saves screaming into the void.
No one wants to tell you what this game is really about, but I will, I'm sure Frozen District has their snipers trained on me as I type this, but I'm willing to risk it all so that you, the unfortunate soul reading this review, knows what you're up against.
This isn't a house flipping simulator.
This isn't a even a handyman simulator.
This.... is a sauna simulator.
Let me explain.
Have you ever been looking for a house, maybe an apartment, and thought to yourself "this seems to have everything I need, but I really don't understand why it doesn't have a sauna"?
No?.. okay, yeah, me neither
But the fine folks over at Frozen District decided to take a tip out of the Steve Jobs playbook and "think different"
There is no problem in this game that a sauna can't solve, and yet there is no problem in this game that isn't caused by an inherent lack of a sauna.
My first flip? Bought a 350 square foot bungalow, (for reference, that's about the size of the average 2 queen bed hotel room)
It was dark, dirty, disgusting and at least 4 other adjectives.
I broke down every wall and built them back up again, cleaned and painted every surface, brought in all new furniture, created an open concept kitchen out of thin air will a full bath and a bedroom big enough for a double.
It was an absolute masterclass on space management.
I staged the house.. got all the finishing touches taken care of... took a deep breath... and put it on the market.
I didn't know what to expect but I thought for sure I would be make enough to at least buy another flip, after all, I had just spent hours making the perfect bungalow for either a couple, or an individual who was looking to strike out on their own.
The bids started rolling in, each one accompanied by two statements, the first being something they liked about the place, the second being something they didn't...
I twitched as I read each negative complaint..
"Wish there was a second bathroom"
*Huh?*
"Should be a desk in the bedroom"
*That's fair I guess but it's a tight space already*
"I want a seperate office"
*It's a 350 square foot bungalow, where would it go?!*
And before I could read the rest of the negative comments, the bidding was over. $42,843.81 was the highest bid. A couple grand in profit, I was livid, I looked to the rest of the bids to see what could have possibly gone wrong.
Nearly every other bid had the same complaint written in some form or another... There was no sauna.
"A sauna?" I thought to myself, "are you kidding me? It's a bungalow, I had to do advanced calculus to fit a dining room table! Why would there be a sauna?! And why is $42k the most you're willing to pay for a house without a sauna?!"
I was already suspicious that the developers lived in a different world than I, a world where vacuuming up cockroaches is the way to go, a world with only 1 dryer and 2 washers, none of which match, a world where everyone seems to be missing radiators regardless of class. But a world where the general population expects even the smallest of structures to contain their own personal sauna? Blasphemy.
I tried to move on with my life, tried to pick up new hobbies, stopped drinking even, but I couldn't get my mind off the saunas.
I relapsed.
I had to know the truth, are saunas all that matter? Is this some cruel joke? A commentary on humanities value of personal comfort above all else?
I did some odd jobs (in some houses that suspiciously had no saunas) in order to make enough money to buy another flip.
But this time I didn't decorate, didn't rearrange anything, I cleaned up, put the cheapest furniture in random places, and then spent an hour crafting the most beautiful sauna the modern and classical world had ever known.
This sauna made Michelangelo's work on the Sistine Chapel look like a middle schoolers art project.
This house I was renovating must have been somewhere south of Italy, because I genuinely believe the leaning tower of Pisa is in fact bowing to the sauna my worn and calloused hands had created.
In case you're lost in that visual I'll remind you that this house was an absolute dumpster fire with the expectation of the sauna, you wanna know how much I made off of it?
Sixty thousand dollars.
I knew I was onto something so I kept it going.
Bought an apartment, cleared it out, put a sauna in the broom closet, bam. $30k.
I kept this going with every property and amassed a small fortune in a very small amount of time.
I'm one sauna away from being able to retire on the moon, and when I get there you know what I'm gonna do?
I'm gonna build another sauna, but this one will be all mine, and then I'm gojng to rest, and look out onto a grateful, more humid universe.