Character creation.
Around 2004, in Tiger Woods ‘03, ‘04, or ‘05 (can’t remember, whatever) I spent the better part of two hours with a mirror leaning against the coffee table, creating my spitting image, complete with hoodie and Chucks, who would then saunter ‘round the courses for the remainder of the semester. At least once in the process I accidentally hit the accursed Randomize Button, which is true to its name (and the human race); a cosmic dice-roll that almost always results in some homely, unpleasant, pudgy, crushingly average avatar. The Randomize Button was a tiny existential black hole; hit it again and again, assorted unattractive folks flicker by, and every once in a while, someone decent-looking — a genetic crapshoot, and then when you really think about it, most people you know kind of look like that, and hell with it, I’m going to make a chick with a big rack. It’s okay, we understand — a video game that provides true character creation risks uncovering all of the non-ideal features of your average homo sapiens.