When you’re trying to keep eight or nine tables moving while the line stretches out the door, things can get hectic, to say the least. Managing the growing restaurant and its ever-increasing flow of customers becomes a complex juggling act tables need to be turned over efficiently to keep the line from growing too long, but some customers dawdle at their tables while others rush through their meals, making it difficult to maintain a steady rhythm. As you gain more customers, the diner expands to accommodate them, adding more tables, new decorations, drinks to serve with the food, a podium for you to act as maitre d’, and so on. After a few days, though, word has apparently gotten out about Flo’s diner, and the trickle turns into a flood. If you manage to keep your patrons happy, though, they not only leave with a smile, but a fat tip is left as your reward.Īt first, the restaurant only has a few tables and customers trickle in slowly. Customers start out in good moods, but if you make them wait too long to be seated or to get their food, their moods dissipate too much ill will, and they storm out of the restaurant in a huff. Running the restaurant involves performing a number of tasks: seating customers, taking orders, delivering food, accepting payment, and busing tables. It is in the everyday operations of the restaurant that the game actually starts to take shape as a game, and not just an expression of white-collar escapist fantasies. Her only employee a faceless cook, Flo is responsible for performing all the day-to-day tasks involved in running the diner. With stars in her eyes, she fixes up the building and opens a little diner.Īlthough Flo owns the restaurant, she doesn’t just sit back and count the money while others do the work. In the case of the game’s heroine, Flo, what’s out there is a dilapidated shell of a restaurant which she stumbles upon after fleeing a never-ending flood of spreadsheets and nagging coworkers. This is the idea behind Diner Dash not the nut butters, but the idea that there’s something out there beyond gray cubicles and navy blue suits.
After spending 14 hours a day debugging database queries and placating angry integration managers, selling peanut butter and tahini on a street corner didn’t just seem like an amusing fantasy it seemed like the only sane course of action to take in response to the unremitting dreariness of life in the office. We had an elaborate plan drawn up in which we would build a commune somewhere out in the country, raise crops, and make nut butters to sell at the farmer’s market. At an old job of mine, my coworkers and I spent a lot of time fantasizing about what we would rather be doing for a living.
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