On the Hypnotic Banality of Kim Kardashian's New Mobile Game, "Kim Kardashian Hollywood"

Kim Kardashian has created a mobile game and we're all to blame.

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Complex Original

Image via Complex Original

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Kim Kardashian Hollywood
Publisher: Glu Games Inc
Genre: Tragedy simulator
Platforms:
 iOS, Android, and the feces stained walls of a prison cell.
Reason to cop: You're dead on the inside.
Reason to not cop: You could literally be doing anything else with your time.
Bottom Line: Spend the afternoon trying to close the microwave door on your genitals instead of playing this game. We guarantee it'll be more entertaining.

In the immortal words of Migos, "Ni**a, I'd rather be rich than famous." 

The sentiment rang true as we made our way through the new iOS and Android mobile "game" from Kim Kardashian. Kim Kardashian Hollywood charges players with entering the Hollywood landscape to create your own celebrity and rise to fame and fortune. We've been playing the game for days now and I'm still impressed by how little my character has to actually do in order to become famous. 

Kim materializes mid-game like the ghost of THOTs past once missions are completed.

Bang a few starlets, drink a sponsored vodka at a nightclub, court paparazzi, be seen with higher-tiered celebrities, and maintain a social media presence is about all it takes for me to become a Hollywood 'it' boy. I don't know how Hollywood works, but I'm pretty sure I eventually have to do something at some point, no?

And who better to offer advice on the grooming of tomorrow's celubutants than the recent Mrs. Kanye West?

From sex-tape star to reality television star to the former Mrs. Humphries to the current Mrs. West, there's nobody better equipped to train in the art of media vamping, manipulating relevance, and, to nearly everyone's surprise, staying famous. I think I speak for everyone when I say that Vogue cover was well-earned.

I was disappointed that I was unable to play as the titular Kardashian, but I'm equipped with one of the greatest weapons a D-lister can possess: The ability to name drop.

No, really:


“Create your own aspiring celebrity and rise to fame and fortune!” 

Sign Here, Here, and Here: How to Sell Your Soul, Win Fame, and Influence Stupid People

My first task is to become a D-list celebrity. My character doesn't have the capacity for self-awareness and he's late for a meeting at a spread at Metropolitan Magazine. What am I actually doing at the magazine? Fuck if I know. Modeling? Sure, modeling sounds right.

My character looks equal parts high-end rent boy/bottle service Sherpa.

The game takes full advantage of the mobile freemium model and provides a complimentary entry fee with in-game purchases of virtual currency available at any time. Sure you can grind for Kardashian dollars or drop $4.99 of real world dollars for 5,000 Kardashian bucks. Just remember that $4.99 goes right into the Kardashian/West slush fund.

And let's talk about that slush fund, shall we? Kim is a master of nothing else if not monetizing her own image. This vanity project will surely go a long way in lining the pockets of the former E! Entertainment Network employee.

In-game success is measured via a Twitter clone where followers and fans must be kept abreast of your every project, feud, and gig in order to maintain your brand. Lose followers, or fail to engage the paparazzi, and you'll quickly see your celebrity status fall faster than the interim Iraqi government.

Kim materializes mid-game like the ghost of THOTs past once missions are completed. Kim invites you into her Hollywood mansion—decorated with all of the flourish of a McMansion with a barely managed cocaine habit—to congratulate you on your rise to Hollywood celebrity. I take an extra moment to stare at what is surely one of many ornate chandeliers dripping from the ceilings of Casa Kardashian. Envy burns inside my waxed chest and I hit the streets once again. This time I must take a bus to Beverly Hills to charm a publicist at a local hot spot. 

Who takes public transit in LA?

I'll never be taken seriously at this rate. Instead of investing in a car, I head downtown and spend $1,200 on a sleeveless blazer. Kim's words were still ringing in my ears as I parted with my hard earned Kardashian dollars: “Changing your look and buying nice clothes can get you attention from media.”

The game ends (we're assuming, we had to stop playing after two days because, jesus, what are we doing with our lives) after your character dies in a tragically botched botox procedure. 

Kim Kardashian Hollywood is the just the next phase of malignancy in the metastasizing tumor of fame manufacturing and maintenance for Mrs. Kardahian. A terminal growth which can only be satiated by Google analytic reports, Twitter followers, Instagram likes, and being obscenely, obscenely rich.

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