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The trickiest task in Food Truck Simulator is avoiding pedestrians and cars while you're en route to your destination. That's saying a lot because everything else in the game is pretty tough too. The goal of the game is to sling burgers and use the money you earn to upgrade and decorate your truck, but if you aren't careful you'll be decorating your hood with the blood of innocent bystanders.
To be clear, there isn't actually blood in Food Truck Simulator, but the game is unambiguous about what happens when you plow into a human with a loaded truck: they die. The first time I did it, I was driving semi-carefully to pick up some ingredients from an old family friend, who helps you start your food truck business following the death of your father. Anyway, I was staying in my lane, stopping at lights, and generally being a considerate, law-abiding driver even though I wasn't sure if there was an incentive for doing so. But then I took a really wide turn and bumped into a person walking along the sidewalk. He'll be fine, I told myself. This is Food Truck Simulator, not GTA.
Grilling or killing?
He was not fine. His mangled, lifeless body was lying on the ground where I killed him with my food truck. I was horrified, but I had to know if there were any consequences for running people over, so I went on a little GTA-style rampage through a crowded park - for science, of course - and sure enough, nothing. No one cared. I even set up shop like three feet away from where I had just ruthlessly murdered about a dozen innocent bystanders, and a hungry crowd of people surrounded my truck for some delicious burgers. It was time to give the people what they want.
Article continues belowLuckily, I had already customized my truck and met with my supplier to buy meat, cheese, bacon, buns, and some tomatoes. The radio was blaring something jazzy and I was ready to open shop. As customers strolled up to my death cart - er, food truck - I began accepting orders, which conveniently appear on a big TV screen near the grill and preparation table. That makes it easy to see which ingredients need to be prepped, how the customer prefers their food, and how long I have to get the order ready.
Coming right up
Turns out, running a food truck is hectic as hell, especially when you're a fresh-faced entrepreneur just starting out. You have the family friend and supply lady walking you through your first order, but frankly, that only made the process more chaotic. I'm told to throw the burger patties on the grill, so I do, but when I go to turn on the grill nothing happens. "Oh, you're an absent-minded dope just like your dad," I'm told (in nicer words). "Go hook up the gas tank to the grill."
With the gas plugged in, the grill clicks on to a satisfying sizzle, and I throw down a couple of patties. I'm advised to prep the bun and toppings while those are cooking, so I run to the fridge for tomato and to the shelves for a bun to slice. Even though I butchered the execution, the end results are two perfectly symmetrical halves to a burger bun and way too many tomato slices. I bring, annoyingly, each slice individually back to the fridge, and by the time I'm back at the grill, my two patties are burnt to hockey pucks. But if I want to get the order out before the time limit, I won't have time to cook two new patties, so I send it out as is. Thankfully, the customer is either very forgiving or unaware of the catastrophe that awaits them inside that bag and pays me $15 for the burger.
Food poisoning
By now, there are two other orders waiting to be cooked, a dead grill because I forgot to turn off the gas, and some slices of tomatoes on the floor that I must've dropped en route to the fridge. After quickly regrouping, I tackled the next order with a good deal more speed and precision and earned my first "Good" review. Like any job, running a food truck requires patience as you learn the ropes, and eventually, I was blasting through orders so fast it made me slightly sick. Literally. I found myself leaning in close to my monitor, and all of the rapid movements and spinning had me stumbling toward the couch for a lie-down.
Mild motion sickness aside, I've had a good time with Food Truck Simulator. Like any simulator worth its salt, its strengths lie in how faithfully it recreates an experience, and in this case, I feel like I've learned a lot about what it would be like to buy and start running a food truck, minus the civilian casualties. I've no doubt there's a hell of a lot more to Food Truck Simulator than what's in the demo, but what I played felt polished, complex, and satisfying. And despite the guilt I feel leaving a trail of dead bodies in my wake every time I have to drive anywhere, Food Truck Simulator does a fine job making work feel like play.
Food Truck Simulator hasn't had a full release yet, but you can play the demo now on Steam.
