Boobs and boors in 'Playboy: The Mansion'

Whether playing in mission mode or in the more open-ended free-form play, digital Hef will be required to outfit his mansion with the de rigueur pool-side trampoline as well as the famous "grotto," scene of James Caan's last sighting in 1979.

The acquired items all play a role in the second, and by far the least interesting, goal in "Playboy:  The Mansion": throwing parties.

Hef's hip factor depends on inviting the right VIPs. The better the party, the higher Hef's cool status and the better access he will have to future story ideas, cover girls and possible deals.

Anyone familiar with the party function of "The Sims" will recognize how this works. The player uses his character to make deals, mend disagreements and generally make as many friends as possible. All this is accomplished via a conversation interface where the player picks a type of interaction  -- casual talk, romantic talk, business talk -- and then monitors how well the conversation proceeds.

Like "The Sims 2,"  "Playboy's" characters boast their own psychological dispositions.  Unlike the characters in "Sims 2" however, the "Playboy" sims have all the depth of their real-life L.A. counterparts. Every single female character falls madly in love with Hugh Hefner -- it must have been in his contract. Conversations are cumbersome and impossible to end. Visiting guests will wave at you and then "harrumph" when Hef doesn't respond in time.

With little drama and poorly defined characters, there's little joy in this portion of the game. Unfortunately, the party segments make up most of the game.

"Playboy: The Mansion" still manages to provide one of the strangest moments in video games so far in 2005. 

When shooting playmates, the game perspective switches from third person to first-person.  After choosing the setting and the correct dangly earrings and stilettos, the model runs through the poses, all rather chaste considering the subject matter. 

Did she just wink at me?

This reviewer has laid waste to aliens, Nazis, mobsters and the occasional innocent pedestrian in "Grand Theft Auto" without so much as showing a wit of concern for any adult in the room who may be watching.  

But having a digital bunny wink at me as I made like a photographer causes a level of sheepishness on par with that of a 12 year-old boy whose Playboy collection has been outed.

Credit the game for eliciting that type of reaction at least. 

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