With five different love interests to choose from—fellow monster-hunter Xavier, doctor Zayne, artist Rafayel, “fruit vendor” Sylus, and pilot Caleb—who each have intricate storylines and personas, players often feel most drawn to one and call them their “main” as shorthand. These men are mere projections to fit each player’s unique identity, a mirror that reflects their interests and ideals.

“My friend who likes Zayne, she’s very clean, mature, elegant; and then the girl that likes Sylus, she’s very girl boss, independent, and very edgy and tough,” says Liu, whose affinity for aquatic aesthetics led her to Rafayel, (spoiler alert!) a merman. “It’s really fun to affirm your identity and your style as well. It’s almost like they’re an accessory.”

Liu also attributes the game’s popularity to a generation that’s more online and less afraid of being cringe, pointing out the opportunities the game brings. “I appreciate it as a way that lets younger girls explore their sexuality and identity rather than a shameful, embarrassing, cringey thing that I can’t share with anybody,” she explains. “It’s giving people an example of how they should be treated or the expectations they should have, albeit in a completely different realm.”

When Love and Deepspace went viral, it reached a new generation of players who can see the potential of this game with a fresh set of eyes. But it’s actually part of a larger romance- and dating-simulator genre that goes back decades. In Japan, during the ’90s, love simulations boomed in popularity. The game credited as the first in the otome genre, dating sims that specifically cater to women, came out in 1994. Romance role play is also a large part of the Sims franchise. With your Nintendo DS and games like Princess Debut, you could play your love sims on the go.

The phone versions aren’t new either. Mystic Messenger, for example, has been around since the 2010s. Still, there’s some stigma surrounding games that involve self-insert romance. As seen in Boyfriend on Demand, some online commenters speculate that these games can keep you from socializing in real life. They insinuate that players won’t be able to discern their feelings for the fictional characters, or that those who want to collect every special feature of the game will spend their money in excess.

But Adam Reynolds, a licensed clinical social worker who specializes in using theater and gaming techniques like role playing in therapy, says it makes a lot of sense that young people might be drawn to these simulators. With real-life romantic situations, “these are times where people feel a little vulnerable,” Reynolds says. “I think it’s harder to have a situation where you feel excited about taking a risk, doing something bold. These games really make it possible to have that feeling of choosing something unexpected and exciting.”

No matter which boy Love and Deepspace players choose, there’s one thing they can all expect: They’ll find him waiting for them on the home page. He might be reading, sleeping, or just standing there staring at them. Sometimes he’ll ask how they are, toss out a compliment, or say something about how he hasn’t seen them in a while. In a world full of ghosting only to be met with sporadic “wyd” texts, this dependability and thoughtful little pieces of dialogue can make players feel seen, heard, and cared for.