'Lesbian Simulator' is A VR Journey of Joy, Pride, and Coming Out

Review by Suzie Toumeh

SHORT REVIEW VERSION

⭐ Rating

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4/5)

✅ Pros

  • Satire: you feel the absurdity of picking your zodiac... from a wheel of fortune.
  • Intuitive Controls: The control scheme is taught through playful storytelling and is accessible!
  • Moments that Stay with You: The sound design and 360-degree space create lasting impressions like the whispered comments of others during a date.

❌ Cons

  • Could alienate different lesbian backgrounds ðŸ¤·‍♀️: the vision of queer life! but only from the Western European city lens where everyone would clap when you come out ON stage during a classic play... Just take a walk to a village in the periphery of the Netherlands itself, no need to even mention other countries where this is a crime...
  • In-Crowd Vibe: Relies heavily on niche cultural cues (e.g. Triple mentions of Cate Blanchett within the first 5 minutes), potentially excluding those not already versed in the "lesbian canon."

Trigger Warnings from Reviewer?

Depictions of harassment, including verbal abuse.

Age Recommendation from Reviewer?

+12

Technicality Level

Beginner-friendly VR.

📖 Plot Summary

In Lesbian Simulator, you awaken on a cosmic assembly line where "Lesbian God" constructs your queer identity through satirical choices, like spinning a wheel for your zodiac sign or picking outfits in a 10 seconds frenzy. You navigate milestones of lesbian life: absorbing media influences by eating symbolic apples, coming out in absurd scenarios, flirting at a bar, dating, facing homophobia on a metro with bizarre twists. The experience culminates in a triumphant Pride parade, blending humor, trauma, and joy into a journey of self-discovery.

0. The Core of the Experince

Have you ever sat with yourself and wondered, who am I, really? And how much of who I am was my own choosing? In this experience you begin to unpack this on a divine assembly line, being constructed by a voice calling herself the "Lesbian God."

Now, the first thing you need to know is this: this experience isn't an instruction manual for outsiders. In the first few minutes, Cate Blanchett is mentioned not once, not twice, but three times. This is a world built on inside jokes and a shared cultural heart. And that leads us to the provocative question at the core of it all: Can something so specific to one community still teach us all a universal lesson about what it means to become who we are?

Let's explore this journey together.


1. The Journey: Your Life is a Lottery Game

You start with choices. What’s your favorite color? I chose red (and my entire avatar was bathed in a devilish crimson.) Your zodiac sign is assigned by a spinning wheel of fortune. You have ten frantic seconds to pick an outfit. Your first crush is a random card you pick from a lottery.

And in that chaos, I had my first aha moment about what this experience tries to say to us. It is not about unlimited freedom. We are given the tools of choice, but so much of who we become is shaped by chance, by time, by forces outside our control.

You then move through the shared milestones of modern queer life, consuming apples that hold the names of iconic films like Carol & Blue is the Warmest Color. Learning how to flirt! and facing the "Coming Out" moments where you might come out to a grandmother who desperately wants a great-grandchild from you, or to a surprisingly chill Biblical God. In these moments, the responsibility shifts. It’s no longer about who you are creating, but how you will preserve that self you created.

Throughout the experience there is a score for your performance, but the real takeaway is the feeling of having lived a brief moment of queer life. You get the understanding that an identity is something you build over time from every awkward flirtation, every traumatic encounter, every moment of chosen family, and every triumphant dance.

2. Directing/Design: When the Game Holds Your Hand

The design sometimes thoughtfully allows you enough time to explore at your own pace like in a beautiful garden where you float among apples, each apple containing a film's name inside of it. There is no timer, no penalty. You are free to discover, & bring the apples to your mouth and "taste" their stories & earn points if the movie has queer representation. The designer trusts you, guides you gently, and allows you to have your own personal victories.

& the design does the complete opposite in other sequences like when you are on a metro and a harasser turns into a monster, and you need to use your pepper spray. However, the controls become quickly unintuitive (at least to me) and the pace frantic and you feel the quiet panic and rage of being helpless as the momsters get you.

3. World-Building: A Universal Experince with a not so Universal Address

The world starts in a cosmic podium, a black void with floating conveyor belts, but I have to tell you, while the themes of queerness are universal, the culture the experience adresses feels over-specific. The films & the coming-out scenarios, they assume a Western, liberal context. The idea of coming out as Romeo on a stage to applause can feel like a distant fantasy for someone in a part of the world where that act could be dangerous or criminal. The experience brilliantly captures the internal chaos of identity, but it sometimes imagines that chaos happening within a society where the stakes are ultimately manageable. The "Lesbian Simulator" simulates only the beautiful life and struggles of a very privileged specific socio-economical experience in the world. 

4. Sound: The Voice of Judgment
The sound design had a lasting success. Specifically in a date sequence in a restaurant where you hold your girlfriend's hand. And as you do, the ambient clatter of the restaurant fades, and you begin to hear the whispers. Sharp, judgmental, coming from all around you in that 360-degree space. The voices get louder and people get bigger their comments becoming more direct until the entire world feels invasive and hostile. You feel the urge to let go. To make yourself smaller. The sounds consume everything, and suddenly everything stops and goes back to normal. It’s the surreal relief of avoiding a catastrophe you never saw coming.

5. Conclusion: What Stays After? The "Body Memory"

So, what is the residue of this experience? What is the "body memory" it leaves behind when you take the headset off?

For me, it wasn't the assembly line or the pride parade. It was the restaurant. It was the simple, defiant act of holding a girl's hand ON the table. It was pushing through the weight of those whispers. Lesbian Simulator uses the power of VR to give you a ghost of the sensory and emotional weight of the situation. What I know for sure is this: In a world obsessed with labels and categories, this experience is a powerful call to embrace the messy, non-linear, and profoundly human process of becoming. It asks us to laugh at the arbitrary rules, to rage against the real monsters, and to always, always find happy places where people are dancing.

Suzie Toumeh's Photo

Reviewer: Suzie Toumeh

Suzie holds two Master’s degrees: in Media Studies from Utrecht University and English Studies from the University of Szeged. She has served on two film festival juries, including the prestigious European University Film Award.

💡 Want More Deep Dives on Film & Art?

📩 Subscribe to The Curated Frame Newsletter

📲 Follow The Curated Frame

Get updates, reviews, and more:

Comments