Chair Simulator

Chair Simulator is an absurdist simulation game developed by MSCHF, where players sit in over 100 iconic chairs from a parody furniture store in a contemporary setting. Featuring 14 playable characters and a permadeath mechanic where sitting too long results in instant death, it blends minimalist gameplay with existential humor, challenging players to embrace the futility of inaction.

Chair Simulator: The Zen and the Art of Digital Suffering

Introduction: The Emperor’s New Seat

In the vast, often self-important canon of video game history, few titles have so perfectly, so deliberately, encapsulated the absurdist spirit of its age as Chair Simulator. Released into the culturally exhausted landscape of May 2021, it arrived not as a revolution in gameplay or graphics, but as a profound and meticulously crafted joke—a joke that thousands would sit through, literally, for hours on end. Developed by the notorious viral art collective MSCHF Product Studios Inc., the game presents a premise of breathtaking simplicity: you sit on chairs. You accumulate “Sit Points” by sitting. You use these points to buy more chairs. And if you sit for too long, you die, permanently. It is, in its own words, “the Dark Souls of sitting simulators.” This review will argue that Chair Simulator is far more than a mere meme or a time-wasting novelty. It is a sharp, nihilistic satire of core game design loops, a minimalist performance piece on the futility of accumulation, and a cultural touchstone that exposes the often-circular logic of player motivation. Its legacy is not in mechanics borrowed by others, but in its pure, unadulterated embodiment of a specific post-pandemic, streaming-era zeitgeist where the act of playing becomes the content.

Development History & Context: MSCHF’s Calculated Absurdity

To understand Chair Simulator, one must first understand its creator: MSCHF. Operating less as a traditional studio and more as a “professional viral entity” (as described by The Game Crater), MSCHF’s entire brand is built on游击式 marketing stunts that blur the lines between art, commerce, and internet chaos. Their previous “drops” include “Puff the Squeaky Chicken” (a novelty item), “Lil Nas X’s Satan Shoes” (controversial footwear with real blood), andsubscription-based art auctions. Chair Simulator is their first major foray into digital gaming, and it fits their MO perfectly: a low-cost, high-concept idea designed for maximum shareability and cultural commentary.

The game was released on May 14, 2021, for Windows and macOS, built in the accessible Unity engine. Its technological constraints are part of its aesthetic: the graphics are simple, low-poly 3D models against bare, texture-less environments. This was not a limitation of budget so much as a deliberate design choice, evoking the early internet and PS1-era jank, which itself became a meme aesthetic. The release context is crucial. It landed during the tail end of the COVID-19 lockdowns, a period defined by remote work, endless Zoom calls, and a collective societal fixation on—and guilt about—sitting. The game weaponizes this reality, turning our lived experience into a grueling, punishing cycle. It also emerged into a Steam ecosystem buzzing with “simulator” games (Goat Simulator, Bear Simulator, Surgeon Simulator), which had already begun to parody the simulator genre’s earnestness. MSCHF didn’t just join the trend; they distilled it to its absolute, philosophical core.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive: The Story of a Chair

Chair Simulator famously has no traditional plot. Yet, through its mechanics, characters, and environments, it constructs a potent, bleakly humorous narrative about modern life, work, and existential dread.

The Protagonists as Archetypes: Players choose from 14 “unique characters,” most of whom are “pro sitters” recognizable from YouTube and Twitch: MrBeast, Nadeshot, Faze Jarvis, Corinna Kopf, etc. (Per the Steam store description). The Steam page also mentions “Cheetles” and “Bingo Bob.” These are not characters with backstories; they are avatars of internet fame itself—personas built on being seen while doing. Their inclusion is a sharp critique of influencer culture, transforming these media figures into literal seat-fillers. The most telling detail is the character designed by Justin Roiland (Rick and Morty), tying the game to a specific brand of absurdist, nihilistic Adult Swim humor. The player’s journey is thus one of adopting these hollow personas to perform the most basic human act in the most punishing digital space.

The Two Locations as Allegory: The game’s world consists of two spaces: your “living room” (a sparse, boxy room with a single painting and a TV) and the “blue and yellow chair store”—an unmistakable, garish parody of IKEA. The living room is your prison, the site of your Sisyphean labor. The chair store is the mall, the marketplace where the promise of comfort (the next chair) is dangled as a reward for enduring the pain of the current one. The IKEA parody is particularly potent; it represents the commodified, flat-pack dream of domestic happiness and ergonomic wellness, a dream that Chair Simulator brutally undercuts. You don’t buy a chair to relax; you buy it to endure longer.

The Core Metaphor: Sitting as Life, Permadeath as Inevitable End: The genius of the game’s “narrative” is its central, punishing mechanic: the pain/numbness meter. Sitting accumulates Sit Points, but the longer you remain seated, the more your character suffers, leading to “numbness, hemorrhoids, muscle atrophy, and ultimately permadeath” (Steam store description). This is not a hazard; it is the game’s thesis. It directly equates the act of grinding for in-game currency/upgrades with the self-destructive nature of modern life—the desk job, the binge-watching, the endless scroll. The “Dark Souls” comparison is literalized here: death is permanent, all progress is lost, and you must begin the arduous climb again. There is no saving, no quitting. The game, in its absurdity, enforces a masochistic, one-sitting purgatory. The ultimate “ending” is always death; the only variable is which chair you expire on. It’s a bleak, comedic mirror held up to the “grind” culture of gaming and capitalism.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems: The Brutal Clockwork

The surface-level simplicity of Chair Simulator belies a tightly wound, deliberately frustrating mechanical core.

The Core Loop & Sit Point Economy: The loop is: Choose Character -> Select Chair from Store (using accumulated Sit Points) -> Sit on Chair in Living Room -> Gain Sit Points over time (rate determined by chair’s “comfort” value) -> When pain threshold reached, stand up to reset meter -> Repeat. The genius is in the negative feedback loop. A more comfortable chair (higher tier) allows you to sit longer before pain sets in and grants points faster, but the act of sitting itself is inherently dangerous. Efficiency is your enemy; to maximize points, you must micromanage a standing/sitting cycle, turning relaxation into a spreadsheet optimization problem. This satirizes the “afk farming” meta of countless MMOs and idle games, where optimal play is the least playful.

Permadeath as a Design Pillar: The absolute, non-negotiable permadeath is the game’s most defining and divisive feature. As noted by The Game Crater, “you cannot save the game… you will need one long session of undivided attention to conquer this game.” This is a direct affront to modern gaming’s emphasis on save files, checkpoints, and session-based play. It forces a single, unbroken commitment, making each playthrough a dedicated ritual. It transforms the game from a “simulator” into a test of willpower, a endurance challenge. The death message, as cited in indy100, confirms the metaphor: “When you die, you have to restart/lose everything… death in the game is the same as death in real life.” This is the game’s cruel, hilarious punchline.

Character & Progression Systems: The 14 characters appear to be purely cosmetic (some community guides even ask “HOW TO WALK,” suggesting basic movement is a query). There is no stated stat difference between them on the Steam page or in sources. Progression is entirely tied to the chair unlock “tree” (though described more as a linear shop). Chairs are grouped by designer (Eames, Corbusier, etc.) and presumably tier, with终极 rewards like the “Iron Throne” from Game of Thrones mentioned in The Game Crater review. The goal is collect ’em all, a classic completionist hook rendered absurd by the permadeath risk. The Steam store promises “multiple endings,” but without narrative divergence, these likely refer to the specific chair you are sitting on when you finally succumb to atrophy—your digital deathbed.

Flaws as Features: The “flaws” are the features. The tiny, claustrophobic living room fills up with purchased chairs, creating a physical puzzle of navigation. The inability to rebind keys (complained about on the Steam forum) adds to the sense of helplessness. The lack of clear instructions beyond “buy chairs, sit down” is part of the deadpan delivery. The community’s creation of guides titled “How To Walk” and “How To Stand Still” (Steam Community) perfectly encapsulates the game’s inversion of basic human actions into complex, guide-worthy mechanics.

World-Building, Art & Sound: The Aesthetics of Nothingness

The world of Chair Simulator is a masterpiece of minimalist, ironic world-building.

Visual Design & Atmosphere: The two environments are stark and iconic. The living room is a void: grey floors, white walls, a single nondescript TV and painting. It’s the platonic ideal of a generic, un-lived-in space. The chair store is a sensory assault of blue and yellow, a cacophony of cheap particleboard and flat textures mimicking a big-box store’s endless, soul-crushing aisles. The chairs themselves are the stars: 3D models of famous designer pieces (Eames lounge chair, Thonet bentwood) rendered with a charming, low-poly simplicity. The visual humor comes from the juxtaposition of these high-design artifacts in a crude Unity environment. The free-camera perspective allows for shots that mimic both serene lifestyle blogs and tense surveillance footage. The graphics, as The Game Crater notes, are “good… surprisingly smooth,” which makes the emptiness feel intentional, not incompetent.

Sound Design (or the Lack Thereof): Sources are silent on a dynamic soundtrack. The implication, consistent with the aesthetic, is a sparse or absent musical score. The soundscape is likely dominated by diegetic, minimal noises: the creak of a chair, the thud of sitting, perhaps the distant, muffled hum of the store. This audio minimalism amplifies the game’s meditative-yet-oppressive mood. You are left alone with the sound of your own virtual suffering. It’s a brilliant choice, focusing the player’s attention entirely on the mechanical feedback (the pain meter) and the visual tally of points.

The overall atmosphere is one of profound, existential boredom. It feels less like a “game world” and more like a waiting room, a non-place. This is the game’s ultimate thematic achievement: it makes the player feel the crushing weight of inert existence through the most inert digital activity possible.

Reception & Legacy: From Viral Joke to Cultural Barometer

Critical & Commercial Reception at Launch: Professional critics largely treated Chair Simulator as a curiosity. Creative Bloq’s headline captured the sentiment: “The hottest video game of 2021 is also the weirdest.” Reviews were brief, bemused, and focused on the absurd premise. The Game Crater gave it a 7/10, praising its “expert” satire and “decent amount of entertainment value” while noting its tediousness. Metacritic’s user score is a mixed 4.3, with a polarized split (33% positive, 56% negative). The negatives often cite the “boring” and “poorly made” nature, while the positives, like the review from Niklas Notes showing an 89% “Very Positive” sentiment from over 5,000 Steam reviews, celebrate its weirdness and personal impact.

Commercially, it was a massive success as a viral phenomenon. It was “streamed over 100,000 times” (Creative Bloq, indy100) shortly after launch, driven entirely by word-of-mouth and the inherent shareability of watching a streamer sit on a virtual chair for hours. Its price point ($0.00) eliminated all barrier to entry. Its “official description” proudly touts its absurd credentials, leaning into the joke.

Evolving Reputation & Community: The Steam community has embraced it with a fervor that belies its simplicity. With over 5,292 reviews and a sustained “Very Positive” rating (89% positive as of 2026, per Steambase), it has cultivated a dedicated, ironic fanbase. Community content is a wonder: guides for basic locomotion, screenshots of elaborate chair collections, absurd fan art, and a running joke about receiving “hentai game recommendations” after purchasing it (a persistent Steam Review Analysis trend). The community has turned its limitations (no mod support, no official updates) into in-jokes. The game has effectively become a blank canvas for player projection, a shared experience of pointless perseverance.

Influence on the Industry: Chair Simulator did not spawn a new genre of “hyper-niche simulators”; that trend had peaked. Its influence is more conceptual. It stands as the ultimate expression of the “simulator as satire” formula, proving that the joke could be stretched to its absolute limit and still find an audience. It demonstrated the power of MSCHF’s model: a free, low-overhead, concept-driven game could generate more cultural conversation than a $60 AAA title. It also served as a potent reminder of the “so-bad-it’s-good” and “anti-game” movements, where value is derived from the experience of engaging with the piece, not from traditional fun. Games like Nothing or PowerWash Simulator (mentioned in related games) followed a similar path of finding zen in the mundane, but Chair Simulator is the most punishing and philosophically severe of the bunch.

Conclusion: A Perfect, Painful Masterpiece

Chair Simulator is not a good game by any conventional metric. It is not fun in the way The Legend of Zelda is fun. It is not deep in the way Disco Elysium is deep. Its narrative is nonexistent, its mechanics are a single, cruel loop, and its world is a barren joke. And yet, in its unwavering commitment to its single, stupid idea, it achieves a kind of perverse brilliance.

It is a flawless execution of a deliberately flawed concept. It satirizes the grind, mocks the pursuit of virtual possessions, exposes the masochism hidden behind “relaxing” sims, and turns the player’s own physical discomfort into a core mechanic. Its legacy is that of a cultural Rorschach test: some see a pointless waste of time, others see a profound commentary on the human condition, and most see a hilarious way to spend an afternoon ironically hating themselves.

In the pantheon of video games, it will not be remembered for innovation borrowed by others. It will be remembered as a perfect snapshot of a moment—a moment of global fatigue, of internet absurdism run amok, and of a player base willing to engage with art that asks them to suffer for no reward but the experience itself. It is, in its own agonizing way, a landmark. To paraphrase its own Steam description: Chair Simulator lets you sit in style. But make no mistake, it will hurt the whole time. And that is precisely why it matters.

Final Verdict: 8/10 – A brilliant, painful, and essential piece of absurdist game design that is more meaningful in its emptiness than most games are in their fullness.