Little Sarah only wanted to be her mummy’s favourite girl. Every day she would do the housework, help dry the dishes, put the rubbish out, feed the pets and even wash the car. She was a fine, well-behaved, sophisticated child, all because she played Lovely Lisa.
The Nintendo DS is home to everything. I really thought I’d seen all the DS had to offer until I saw…this. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to witness it (like the time I missed out on buying Koloomn). Chances to play weird things like this come and go before you can make up your mind, and well—I was going to risk it. It looked like it might actually have potential.
Of course I was wrong. How could any game about dolls be anywhere near awesome? I might as well admit I have a dollhouse and organise tea parties with my Barbies.
The above is a joke, by the way. I’ve never had a tea party.
I admit to being wrong in thinking that Lovely Lisa had potential. It just turned out to be an exercise in not killing yourself, a completely loath-able experience worth neither your time nor mine.
However, for adults with no time for their daughters, I introduce you to a lifesaver.
The game that will shut your stupid loudmouth inbred brat up. The game that will get her out of your face so you get on with your housework (or your genuine ignorance toward violent videogames)! Yes, house-bound mother of two-point-five children, get Lovely Lisa and continue believing Jack Thompson is the new messiah.
This game is practically everything a little girl wants, from making her own clothes to working at an ice-cream parlour. Lovely Lisa aims to teach girls etiquette and sophistication, and it pretty much serves as a replacement for actual parents. I’ll give you the run-down.
This is LISAchan, apparently. As her status rises, she becomes a better “lady,” becoming more “mature.” Chores points are earned by helping “Mom and Brad” with the household chores. Jobs points are earned by taking unpaid part-time jobs. Charm points are earned by doing charming things, like dancing, or typing names into a computer.
The origin of this game is really odd, mind you. See, toy company Tomy makes these fashion dolls called Licca that are craved by Japanese guys and girls (and all other kinds of people who have fun taking clothes off of plastic dolls). The fact that this game was even localised to anywhere other than Japan is pretty damn funny.
The odd thing is this, though—for a game that was originally marketed for Japan, I’m actually really surprised you can’t have Lisa slip into a g-string, even though there is a conspicuous “for grownups” option on the title screen. Oh well. If you really want to see a Licca doll naked, there’s always Google Image Search. We won’t, y’know, think any less of you for it.
Once you perform all the tasks in the game and max out your points, that’s all there really is. There is a trial to see if you’ve learned anything, but there’s no apparent clues as to how close to unlocking it you are. All I did was get more Lisa Points to spend on clothes that you’d only want to buy if you like customising dolls.
To be honest with you, part of me kinda does.
I know girls who look like that doll. These are not nice girls. Why would I want one of these dolls? Exactly. Ergo—why would I want Lovely Lisa?
There is nothing to like about this game, except for the acceptable music and controls. Just look at it. It is a cheap translation job of a game for Japanese children.
It is also hideous. Staring at Lisa is like slicing your eyeballs across a cheese grater. Flicking through the clothes, it’s like putting those scrapes onto a lasagne made of your entrails. Scrolling through the menus is like a version of the Mona Lisa before her unibrow was removed through layers of varnish.
Besides, can we even be sure what counts as good etiquette? C’mon Margaret, explain yourself!