The debut of The Sims 4’s “Enchanted By Nature” expansion in July 2025 introduced an array of fairy-Sims, mystical maladies, and whimsical aesthetics to the long-running simulator. For someone who has followed the franchise since its inception, this release served as a catalyst for my return after several months of dormancy—though I walked back in fully expecting to be underwhelmed.
Long-term devotees of The Sims 4 likely share my apprehension. The series recently marked its 25th anniversary, with the last decade tethered to a fourth installment that was notoriously hollow upon its 2014 arrival. It launched stripped of foundational elements like swimming pools or meaningful color customization; even the toddler life stage was absent, forcing infants to transform instantly into school-aged children. Electronic Arts spent the subsequent ten years attempting to fill those voids through a relentless stream of free updates and paid DLC. Yet, while many of these additions sounded promising on paper, they frequently faltered in execution, plagued by persistent glitches and shallow mechanics.
For the better part of a decade, my experience with The Sims 4 followed a predictable, exhausting cycle:
- Devoting an exorbitant amount of time to Create-A-Sim, frustrated by the inability to coordinate clothing swatches.
- Spending even longer meticulously designing a residence or renovating a pre-existing lot.
- Succumbing to immediate ennui or irritation due to technical bugs and a lack of engaging gameplay.
- Abandoning the game for several months.
Consequently, when I loaded “Enchanted By Nature,” my expectations were subterranean. I designed a fairy named Nyx, experimenting with the new expansion’s ethereal wardrobe to craft a unique look. Almost immediately after settling into her home, Nyx received a recruitment call from the Grim Reaper, who offered her a position in the soul-reaping industry—a legitimate career path introduced in the previous “Life & Death” expansion.
Declining the offer of mortality management, Nyx headed to a local supernatural lounge where she encountered Nadya, another fairy who would soon become her partner. Their romance flourished at high speed. Shortly after moving in together, Nadya witnessed Nyx being struck by a bolt of lightning after a failed interaction with a garden gnome. (In true Sims fashion, she survived.) The couple soon opted for a “Science Baby”—a mechanic allowing same-sex Sims to combine their genetics. While they only intended for one child, they were “blessed” with twins, whom I promptly redesigned into unsettling, bizarre creatures in Create-A-Sim. It was exactly the brand of chaotic, creative freedom that the game had been missing for years.
A few hours into this session, I realized something startling: I was genuinely enjoying myself. The usual struggle to assemble a cohesive look—a byproduct of The Sims 4 ditching the custom color wheels of its predecessors—felt manageable. Despite some lingering technical quirks, such as Nyx contracting a suspicious new ailment every few days, the experience wasn’t derailed by game-breaking errors. For the first time in ten years, The Sims 4 felt like a complete experience.
However, that sense of completeness is almost certainly tied to the fact that I own all 98 DLC installments.
The game currently boasts nearly a hundred individual add-ons, ranging from $5 kits to $40 expansions. While no one is obligated to purchase every pack, the bare-bones nature of the base game makes the lack of customization painfully obvious. Without these extra assets, designing characters and homes is a mediocre endeavor at best. To acquire the full suite of content, a player would need to invest roughly $1,600—a staggering sum for a digital dollhouse.
I have always been a purist, avoiding heavy modding aside from the essential MC Command Center. I prefer the vanilla experience to avoid the headache of broken files after every update. I’ve supported every generation since the original launched in 2000, but the contrast between the past and present is stark.
The fundamental difference lies in the fact that the first three games were inherently entertaining at launch. DLC was a welcome enhancement, not a prerequisite for functionality. Previous expansions felt like “extra credit,” whereas The Sims 4’s content cycle often feels like a multi-year effort to fix a broken foundation. For context, The Sims 3 concluded its run with just 20 DLC packs. It’s baffling that the current iteration requires nearly five times that amount to reach a comparable level of engagement.
While I am finally having a blast—and have already moved on to the Adventure Awaits content—the decade-long road to satisfaction remains a bitter pill. It leaves me skeptical about the series’ trajectory, especially as EA appears to be pivoting toward an MMO-style future.
Source: Polygon
