The usual numbers and menu-based micromanagement was made simpler and more comical, too. They're welcome on all the furniture and get treats whenever they like. Good thing I'm not actually a god. I'd never hit an animal, digital or otherwise, so I'd pet them and feed them, reinforcing whatever behaviors they observed or were naturally inclined to, just like my real pets. My giant pet would observe and begin to think that suffering is good because daddy godhand sure inflicts a lot of it.
Winding up my weird physics hand to give a fireball or boulder just enough momentum to reach the isle far across the map, just catching the edge of the village, was delightful. It was monstrous, but great fun: a clumsy way of progressing articulated by a physics game, almost like skipping rocks across a placid lake.
Eradicate them or terrify them into complicity.
I have great memories of abandoning any hope for promoting sensible theology and just sat tossing fireballs and rocks at the edge of my influence-impassable borders determined by the reach of your believers' faith-and into opposing villages dedicated to another god. You, sometimes literally, massage the sandbox to steer it in your favor. In Black & White, you're a huge physics-bound hand, and it's the primary way you interact with the world. This isn't to say it gives you infinite, unbound power from the get-go or that it was the deepest and most strategically-varied of its kind, but Lionhead's first stab at a 3D version of the genre made your influence on the world feel far less abstract than in earlier god games, like Populous and Dungeon Keeper. Why care?īlack & White is still the only game that's made me feel like a god. Even then, getting Black & White to run on modern PCs isn't easy. Without those old CDs, players are stuck in purgatory, digging through boxes for old CDs or driven to piracy.
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