Do Not Feed the Monkeys

Do Not Feed the Monkeys is a voyeuristic surveillance simulation game where you assume the role of a member of a clandestine club. From your apartment, you monitor a series of live video feeds observing the lives of unsuspecting subjects, referred to as ‘monkeys’. The game is a tense time-management challenge where you must balance observing these strange narratives, completing mundane tasks to pay your rent, and following the club’s strict prime directive: never interact with the subjects. Your choices have consequences, and each error is punished, creating a compelling and morally complex experience.

Do Not Feed the Monkeys: A Voyeur’s Dilemma in the Digital Panopticon

In the vast and often derivative landscape of indie gaming, a title emerges every so often that defies easy categorization, not just through its mechanics but through the uncomfortable moral questions it forces upon the player. Do Not Feed the Monkeys, a 2018 release from Spanish developer Fictiorama Studios, is one such game. It is a digital voyeur simulator, a time-management stress test, and a biting satire of our surveillance-saturated society, all wrapped in a deceptively simple pixel-art package. This review will dissect its creation, its intricate systems, its profound themes, and its lasting impact on the genre, cementing its place as a modern cult classic.

Development History & Context

Fictiorama Studios, a small team from Spain, was founded by the Oliván brothers—Alberto, Mario, and Luis. Their debut title, Dead Synchronicity (2015), was a point-and-click adventure set in a grim, dystopian future. While that game established their narrative ambitions, it was with Do Not Feed the Monkeys that they found a truly unique and resonant voice.

The concept was born in the wake of Dead Synchronicity‘s completion. The team, inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window and the unsettling reality of websites like Insecam (which aggregates unsecured surveillance camera feeds from around the world), sought to explore the modern phenomenon of voyeurism. As Luis Oliván stated in an interview with HobbyConsolas, their chief goal was to create a deep sense of player immersion coupled with a sense of agency. They wanted players to feel the power and the guilt of the watcher.

Developed in the Unity engine, the game’s technical constraints were largely self-imposed, channeled into a specific aesthetic. The pixel-art style was not just a budgetary choice but a deliberate one, evoking a sense of digital grit and retro computing that perfectly complements the theme of hacking and low-fi surveillance. The gaming landscape of 2018 was ripe for such a title. The indie scene was flourishing with narrative-driven, experimental games, and public consciousness was increasingly preoccupied with privacy scandals and the ethics of Silicon Valley. Do Not Feed the Monkeys arrived as a prescient commentary on these very issues.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

The game’s premise is immediately arresting. You play as a down-on-their-luck individual, languishing in a run-down apartment, who is invited to join the enigmatic “Primate Observation Club.” The club’s mandate is simple: observe the “monkeys” (people captured on various surveillance feeds) and report your findings. The one cardinal rule is stated in the title: Do Not Feed the Monkeys—meaning, do not interact with them.

The narrative operates on two distinct levels:

1. The Micro-Stories: The core of the experience lies in the individual “cages” (feeds) you observe. These are self-contained short stories ranging from the bizarre and comedic to the tragic and horrifying. You might watch a lonely old man reenacting a past war, a woman seemingly pregnant with a demon’s child, a bookie’s office being robbed, or a political candidate’s limousine. The writing is sharp, often witty, and consistently engaging. Each cage is a puzzle box; by clicking on elements in the feed and harvesting keywords (names, addresses, objects), you can research them online (using an in-game browser) to uncover deeper secrets. This is where the titular moral choice emerges. Will you use this information to “feed” them? You can blackmail the bookie, send an exorcist to the pregnant woman, or warn the robbery victim. Every action has a reaction, often with unintended and devastating consequences, beautifully illustrating the butterfly effect of your digital meddling.

2. The Macro-Story: Lurking behind these micro-stories is a larger, more sinister narrative concerning the Club itself. Through daily in-game newspapers, you learn about a corrupt presidential candidate, Walker, who is clearly manipulating the political landscape. The game strongly implies, especially through certain endings, that the Primate Observation Club is a tool of this oppressive regime. Your voyeurism is not a harmless pastime; it is a cog in a machine of mass surveillance and control. This transforms the game from a simple ethical simulator into a full-blown dystopian satire. The title itself is a brilliant piece of Orwellian doublethink—dehumanizing the observed subjects (“monkeys”) to make the violation of their privacy more palatable.

The central theme is the corrosion of privacy and the ethics of observation. The game holds a dark mirror up to the player, asking: “In a world where we willingly give up our data for convenience, what separates us from the Club?” It’s a game about the allure of forbidden knowledge and the inherent human failure to remain a passive observer when presented with the power to intervene.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Do Not Feed the Monkeys is a masterclass in synthesizing multiple genres into a cohesive, stressful, and utterly compelling loop. It is primarily a time-management and resource simulation game layered over a puzzle and investigation framework.

• The Core Loop: Your daily existence is a brutal balancing act. You must:

  • Observe Cages: This is your primary task. You switch between feeds, noting key events and harvesting information.
  • Manage Resources: Your character has hunger, health, and fatigue meters. You must buy food (healthy groceries or fast food deliveries), get sleep, and take medication.
  • Earn Money: You need cash for rent (due every three days), food, and most importantly, to buy new cages to maintain your Club membership. Money is earned through menial jobs listed on your apartment door (dog walking, security work) which consume precious time.
  • Research and Intervene: Using the in-game browser, you input discovered keywords to find phone numbers, addresses, and background info. This allows you to “feed the monkeys” via email or phone calls.

• The Tension: The game’s genius is in the constant, agonizing tension it creates. Sleep is necessary but makes you miss crucial events in your cages. Working a job pays the rent but steals time from observation. A story is reaching its climax in one cage just as your hunger meter hits zero and your landlord is pounding on the door. This relentless pressure forces difficult choices and makes successful multi-tasking immensely satisfying.

• UI and Controls: The interface is designed to mimic a desktop PC, complete with a working browser and email client. On PC, this feels natural and immersive. Criticisms, particularly from console versions (noted in reviews from TheXboxHub and Nintendo Life), highlighted the cumbersome control scheme when a mouse wasn’t available, though the Switch version’s touchscreen was praised as a decent alternative.

• Flawed Systems: The game is not without its frustrations. The lack of a manual save feature and sometimes opaque puzzle solutions can lead to frustrating soft-locks or missed narrative opportunities, a point critiqued by several reviewers. The game expects failure and repetition, which some players found more tedious than compelling.

World-Building, Art & Sound

The world of Do Not Feed the Monkeys is built through implication and artifact. You never leave your apartment, yet the world feels vast and alive through:

• The Feeds: Each cage is a window into a different, fully realized life. The pixel art is expressive and detailed, conveying a shocking amount of emotion and narrative through simple animations and text bubbles.
• The Newspaper: The daily news bulletin is a masterstroke of world-building. Stories about candidate Walker, the Nova 7 space mission, and local events slowly paint a picture of a corrupt and crumbling society, and often tie directly into the cages you’re watching.
• The Apartment: Your own space is a character. The peeling paint, the mundane jobs on the door, the constant interruptions from neighbors and landlords—it all grounds you in a life of desperate mundanity that starkly contrasts with the dramatic lives you observe.

The sound design is minimalist but highly effective. The soundtrack is a collection of low, ambient synth tracks that create a pervasive sense of unease and loneliness. The sound of keyboard clicks, camera switches, and the ominous ding of a new email become key auditory cues in the stressful rhythm of the game. The silence of the feeds, broken only by these UI sounds, makes the voyeurism feel all the more intrusive and real.

Reception & Legacy

Upon its release, Do Not Feed the Monkeys was met with critical acclaim for its originality. It holds a solid 77% Metascore and 7.5 MobyScore, with reviewers like GamingTrend and MKAU Gaming awarding it 90% and praising its unique premise and addictive quality. Critics universally applauded its narrative ambition and thematic depth, while some, like GameSpew, critiqued its sometimes-punishing survival mechanics.

Its cultural impact was significant for an indie title. It was nominated for three awards at the 2019 Independent Games Festival, including the prestigious Seumas McNally Grand Prize. It won “Best FS Play” at the Titanium Awards and was named one of the best Spanish games of 2018 by HobbyConsolas.

The game’s true legacy lies in its influence on the narrative-driven indie scene. It sits comfortably alongside titles like Orwell and Beholder as a defining entry in the “dystopian simulation” subgenre. It proved that a game could use voyeurism not as a gimmick, but as a core mechanic to explore profound questions about morality, privacy, and complicity. Its success paved the way for its sequel, Do Not Feed the Monkeys 2099, and inspired a wave of games that trust players to navigate complex ethical landscapes without clear guides or moralizing.

Conclusion

Do Not Feed the Monkeys is a flawed masterpiece. It is a game that is often frustrating, intentionally stressful, and morally disquieting. Its survival mechanics can feel at odds with its narrative puzzles, and its control scheme is best experienced on PC. Yet, these minor imperfections cannot overshadow its staggering achievement.

It is a brilliantly conceived, expertly executed satire that holds a black mirror up to the player and the digital age we inhabit. It is a game about the seduction of power, the fragility of privacy, and the consequences of action—and inaction. More than just a game, it is an experience that lingers, forcing introspection long after the computer has been shut down. In the annals of video game history, Do Not Feed the Monkeys will be remembered not just for what it is, but for the uncomfortable, essential questions it dared to ask. It is an indispensable, landmark title in the evolution of video games as a medium for sophisticated social commentary.