The Awakening
Oakland, California — October 20, 1991 — 11:00 a.m.
The sun peeked through half-closed blinds.
Will, 31, stirred in bed. His wife lay peacefully beside him.
But peace ended with his first inhale.
Smoke.
He sat up. Eyes open now.
Something was burning.
Will padded barefoot across the cool hardwood to the bedroom window.
Outside: a thick column of smoke spiraling into the sky — close. Too close.
A wildfire, he assumed. Common here in California.
He picked up the phone. Dialed 911.
The dispatcher’s voice was calm.
Yes, it’s a fire. But under control. 600 feet away. Contained.
No threat.
Will thanked her. Hung up. Brushed his teeth. Showered.
His mind drifted to ants.
Not the ones in his kitchen — the digital ones.
He was developing a video game about ants: how they build, organize, survive.
He loved it.
But when he left the bathroom and glanced out that same window again—
Everything changed.
The Fire Returns
The smoke was no longer a distant wisp.
It was a monster.
Now darker, thicker.
Flames licked upward, dancing hungrily toward the sky — toward him.
Will’s heart dropped. He dialed 911 again.
This time, surprise in the dispatcher’s voice.
The fire wasn’t supposed to be active.
Panic.
Will hung up.
Ran to his wife.
Smoke seeped into their house now.
They looked at each other and knew — Run.
They grabbed what they could.
Outside, chaos.
Neighbors in a frenzy, fleeing in all directions.
Will and his wife almost joined them—
Until he remembered.
The neighbors.
Away for the weekend.
Their toddler — left with elderly grandparents — no car.
Will ran next door.
Pounded on the door.
The grandparents answered, scared. The child clung to one of them.
“Come with me,” Will said.
No time.
No second thoughts.
Everyone into his car.
And they were gone — swallowed into the convoy of desperation.
The Return
One week later.
The fire raged for four days.
25 people dead.
Thousands of homes — vaporized.
Will rode in a police cruiser.
You needed an escort to return. It was still dangerous.
The officer stopped.
“This is it.”
Will stepped out.
His home? Gone.
Just ash.
Skeletons of things he once loved — vanished.
He walked to the rubble.
No words. No tears.
Only numbness.
But then… something moved.
The Ants
In the debris, near the blackened earth—
Ants.
Small. Relentless. Alive.
They had suffered too.
Their colonies, their homes — torched.
But they weren’t mourning.
They were rebuilding.
Brick by tiny brick.
Will stared.
He understood.
The Game
Nine years passed.
The ant game? Scrapped.
In its place—
A world.
Digital. Fragile. Real.
You didn’t just play it.
You lived in it.
Your avatar had a home. A job. A spouse. A life.
But tragedy could strike — any time.
Just like the real world.
Death. Fire. Loss.
And when it did?
You rebuilt.
Just like Will.
Just like the ants.
The Legacy
The game was a phenomenon.
Tens of millions of copies sold.
Generations built digital lives, faced digital disasters, and chose to move forward.
Because that’s what we do.
We rebuild.
The man behind the game?
Will Wright.
And the game?
The Sims.