Free-to-play games Part 2: The Price of Time
In a previous post, I talked about how free-to-play games like Playrix’s Homescapes can be seen as a microcosm of society at large. As I keep playing, I notice how these games divide players into the Haves and Have-nots, not just in terms of money, but also effort, time, and stress.
Money Buys Time in Free-to-play games
In my earlier post, I touched on the effort required to progress in these games when money is not an issue. But I overlooked the role of time. In these games, money speeds progress. If one runs out of moves or time for a level, you spend coins to buy more. You can spend coins to get more power-ups, also moving the game along at a faster rate. The faster the game plays, the more it acts like a slot machine, with lights and colors, sensory feedback, and rewards. If you run out of coins and can afford to buy more, indefinitely, the game can keep going as long as you want to play. Now, let’s compare this with how the game plays without spending money.
If you fail a level and don’t have enough coins to continue? You lose a challenge—and its rewards. Breaking a streak can cost more power-ups and extra moves you fought to attain. As you lose more advantages, the levels become even harder. Each failed attempt costs a “life”. Eventually, you run out of lives, and have to spend coins to refill them, or wait a while until they “recharge”. The game begins to move at a snail’s pace, and you might have to repeat a single level over and over. It gets frustrating, stimulating a stress response.
If you do give in and spend money, future discounts shrink. The levels get harder. And the whole issue begins to snowball. Even if you don’t spend money, it seems that you win fewer and fewer levels without purchasing more moves or power-ups.
In free-to-play games, time and money are often intertwined. This mirrors real life, where financial security allows for shortcuts while others remain trapped in cycles of frustration and exhaustion.
The Cost of Being Poor (Outside of Free-to-play games)
This dynamic isn’t unique to games. It plays out in everyday life, where those with money find shortcuts while others are stuck in endless struggle. First, there is the principle of how it costs a lot to be poor.
When a person can afford to spend more money at a time, they can go to a place like Costco (not a sponsor) and spend money on a package of toilet paper, paying less overall per roll. But if one cannot do that due to limited finances at any given time, they will come out further and further behind. No matter how much effort is put in, additional roadblocks from not having more money at hand make tasks harder and take longer.
Desperation of the Middle-Class
Second, it lays bare the desperation the middle-class has when trying not to lose what they have. If you can afford to spend a little extra money, you can also save some. If you have some money saved, and trouble comes, you can dig into savings. But then comes the gnawing anxiety of scraping together money to rebuild savings in case something goes wrong. In anyone below the middle-class, there are no savings to tap. Every day is a frantic hope. Please, let nothing else go wrong.
Bills & Fees
Third, if one cannot pay bills on time because their job doesn’t pay enough, they can incur fees. Then more fees. And more fees. Repossessions. Loss of credit. Every time one begins to find a bit of purchase, the ground shifts again and the hole gets deeper. Every day presents desperate calculations. Which bill can I wait to pay, and which will make things spiral if I don’t pay it? Falling behind in real life is comparable to the consequences of falling behind in games, only with much higher stakes. The lack of money often pairs with a lack of time.
The Cost of Time
Fourth, it costs a lot of time. Even for something simple, such as a Christmas gift for one’s child. They want an expensive new gaming system. It’s the thing they want most, and you can almost picture the joy on their face when they open it.
If one has plenty of money, it’s a simple trip or online order to get it. If one does not have money, it can take months of scrimping and saving to have enough. Praying nothing goes wrong. Praying there’s still one left on the shelf. You know that you will not be able to afford to buy one online at a scalper’s price.
If you manage to buy it, you pray nothing forces you (or your child) to return it because the money is needed more. (Like my PlayStation 2, many moons ago. I still appreciate that Mom got it for me, though. Thanks Mom.)
A more dire example is delaying necessary medical care due to lack of funds. You may have symptoms indicating that something is wrong, but there is no way to pay for insurance. Or if you have insurance, you may not be able to pay the deductible, co-insurance, and/or co-pays. You may have to save up for care, finance it, or hope that a charity will cover it. And there are times when the care ends up coming too late, resulting in permanent damage, disability, or worse.
Conclusion
Money brings advantage, and if the advantage runs out, money can buy more. For people who don’t have money, no amount of work or time can truly level the playing field. Free-to-play games may not intend to highlight these inequalities, but in their mechanics, they mirror the reality of financial privilege: those with money move forward with ease, while those without are left to struggle.
Would you enjoy games more if they were designed to be more advantage-neutral—perhaps through mechanics that reward skill over spending, or by offering meaningful progress without financial barriers? If we see games as a reflection of life, what would it take to rewrite the rules—both in the games we play and the world we live in?
