So, you think you could do a better job running the country? Presidential Life says: bet. This political life sim drops you into the freshly polished shoes of the newly elected President of the United States—and within ten in-game minutes, you’re neck-deep in budget crises, diplomatic disasters, and an inbox full of angry emails from governors named Doug.

The game starts with your inauguration day, where you choose your party affiliation, build your Cabinet like a fantasy football team, and give a speech that either unites the nation or sparks protests before the band finishes playing. From there, it’s pure chaos. You’ll sign executive orders, veto bills, host awkward international dinners, and try to survive both scandals and the two-hour long State of the Union speech minigame (which features a disturbingly realistic teleprompter mechanic).

Gameplay is a mix of strategy, narrative choice, and stress management. There’s a branching approval rating system, faction juggling, and “Public Opinion Roulette,” where even your favorite sandwich choice can tank polls in Ohio. Each week, the game throws random events at you: hurricanes, economic dips, angry tweets from foreign leaders, or your VP going rogue on national TV.

Visually, Presidential Life goes for a semi-cartoonish realism—think The Sims meets C-SPAN. The Oval Office is beautifully rendered, complete with a stress meter that maxes out when you forget to pet the White House dog (yes, that’s a real mechanic). The soundtrack is an odd but perfect mix of patriotic fanfare and lowkey political thriller tension.

What truly elevates the game is its dark humor and moral complexity. You’ll face decisions like, “Do I sell arms to stabilize a foreign ally… or invest in infrastructure and risk losing defense industry support?” You can be a principled reformer or a power-hungry charmer who names national parks after yourself. And the game remembers. Every lie, every cover-up, every time you promised free healthcare and delivered only free tote bags—it all comes back around in Year 4.

It’s not all serious though. There’s a “Press Conference Mode” that’s basically a rhythm game of dodging questions, and a side quest where you can secretly become friends with a sentient AI drone who gives you military gossip.

The real question isn’t “can you win?” It’s can you survive with your dignity (or at least your polling numbers) intact?

Verdict: Presidential Life is stressful, ridiculous, smart, and wildly fun. It might not teach you everything about politics, but it will definitely make you say, “Okay, maybe I don’t want the job.”

Rating: 8.5/10