K.K. Slider himself delivers Animal Crossing's thesis at the beginning of the game when you first boot it up. If you haven't given this entry in the series a shot, I'd recommend you try the game first before reading this review. This isn't a case where there's spoilers or anything like that, but I do think it's best to read this after experiencing the game for a while. This written from a retrospective lens rather than as a recommendation.
Animal Crossing is the strongest champion of virtual interactivity in video games.
This video game provides a world you live in for as long as you take care of it. It's like a bonsai tree that you maintain and cultivate, which gives it something akin to a life. Animal Crossing uses that life-medium hybrid to converse with players about living as an individual in a social world similar to our own. It makes lighthearted satirical fun of the world that made it in its friendly assholes and utopian capitalism. It's a fun world made to encapsulate and interact with reality.
Animal Crossing gracefully manifests what other mediums could only dream of doing; it creates a world for the player to necessarily immerse themselves in. The game achieves its immersion through participation with only brief, unassertive guidance. Unlike popular media outside of video games where their fictional worlds are statically and directly communicated, the towns of Animal Crossing and their meaning to the player change in ways not limited to the player's interpretation. The purposes within Animal Crossing shift to what players make of it through options in interactivity. Beyond the few tutorial tasks in the introduction, the game gladly welcomes its players ignoring any and all of the intent in its creation.
Animal Crossing encourages communication within its own community and beyond. The game tells you to share your town with your real friends outside of the game. It doesn't want to replace; it wants to support. The game constantly seeks to reflect you in your written letters, your brief friendships, and your impression on the town's nature, and it urges players right from the introduction to share your sandcastle town with others. Villagers from your town can move to the towns of other players you have interacted with. You can visit those other towns from other players by putting their memory card in the second slot. Animal Crossing can be a medium for connection.
There's something tragically idealistic here in what I see as this Animal Crossing's most unfortunate flaw. Animal Crossing has high hopes in this social dream that is a dated and ignored burden to fulfill in the present. However, I do find that this flaw does give towns some neat physicality. I can remember myself as a kid imagining the miniature towns being stored inside of blocks in those tiny memory cards where all my villagers continued to live out their lives, while the GameCube and the CRT it was hooked up to were a magnifying glass and an avatar. This flaw also did not exist in the series for long, as Animal Crossing's unfairly disregarded sequel introduced a much easier way to share your town with others.
Like the villagers in its towns, Animal Crossing itself won't last forever. It only has seven years left. After 11:59pm on December 31st, 2030, the in-game calendar will break and reset to January 1st, 2030. The game will still be playable, but it will no longer function as intended. Animal Crossing discs in their unmodifiable state on their GameCubes will succumb to this as their discs rot, memory cards corrupt, and consoles break. Future Animal Crossing games have been made, but none of them with the sass or the abstract zaniness that came in the first entry. The sequel I previously mentioned traded the sass for a pensive melancholy vibe. That sequel's banal follow-up completely eroded even that new identity away.
The series has recently built itself a new identity as something closer to a dollhouse in its bestselling, joyous, resortlike entry (read my review here). New Horizons captures what the world wanted as an escape from a pandemic at the time of its release. Compared to the original, New Horizons is more likely to go down in any history of video games for its popularity and the social impact it had. New Horizons serves as an artifact of its time. In contrast, Animal Crossing brings forth a far less idealized (but still very fun) reflection of reality. As the experimental origin of the series, it does less to interpret desires of the masses, and does more to capture a sentiment about modern lifestyles. Animal Crossing is artistic ethnography embedded in a toy with indifference towards being seen as an art. It's not a film, not a painting, not a sculpture, not a song, not a dance, not a book. It doesn't strive to be anything like them.
Animal Crossing for the Nintendo GameCube could only want (and deserve) to be recognized and respected as itself; a video game through and through.
Animal Crossing is the strongest champion of virtual interactivity in video games.
This video game provides a world you live in for as long as you take care of it. It's like a bonsai tree that you maintain and cultivate, which gives it something akin to a life. Animal Crossing uses that life-medium hybrid to converse with players about living as an individual in a social world similar to our own. It makes lighthearted satirical fun of the world that made it in its friendly assholes and utopian capitalism. It's a fun world made to encapsulate and interact with reality.
Animal Crossing gracefully manifests what other mediums could only dream of doing; it creates a world for the player to necessarily immerse themselves in. The game achieves its immersion through participation with only brief, unassertive guidance. Unlike popular media outside of video games where their fictional worlds are statically and directly communicated, the towns of Animal Crossing and their meaning to the player change in ways not limited to the player's interpretation. The purposes within Animal Crossing shift to what players make of it through options in interactivity. Beyond the few tutorial tasks in the introduction, the game gladly welcomes its players ignoring any and all of the intent in its creation.
Animal Crossing encourages communication within its own community and beyond. The game tells you to share your town with your real friends outside of the game. It doesn't want to replace; it wants to support. The game constantly seeks to reflect you in your written letters, your brief friendships, and your impression on the town's nature, and it urges players right from the introduction to share your sandcastle town with others. Villagers from your town can move to the towns of other players you have interacted with. You can visit those other towns from other players by putting their memory card in the second slot. Animal Crossing can be a medium for connection.
There's something tragically idealistic here in what I see as this Animal Crossing's most unfortunate flaw. Animal Crossing has high hopes in this social dream that is a dated and ignored burden to fulfill in the present. However, I do find that this flaw does give towns some neat physicality. I can remember myself as a kid imagining the miniature towns being stored inside of blocks in those tiny memory cards where all my villagers continued to live out their lives, while the GameCube and the CRT it was hooked up to were a magnifying glass and an avatar. This flaw also did not exist in the series for long, as Animal Crossing's unfairly disregarded sequel introduced a much easier way to share your town with others.
Like the villagers in its towns, Animal Crossing itself won't last forever. It only has seven years left. After 11:59pm on December 31st, 2030, the in-game calendar will break and reset to January 1st, 2030. The game will still be playable, but it will no longer function as intended. Animal Crossing discs in their unmodifiable state on their GameCubes will succumb to this as their discs rot, memory cards corrupt, and consoles break. Future Animal Crossing games have been made, but none of them with the sass or the abstract zaniness that came in the first entry. The sequel I previously mentioned traded the sass for a pensive melancholy vibe. That sequel's banal follow-up completely eroded even that new identity away.
The series has recently built itself a new identity as something closer to a dollhouse in its bestselling, joyous, resortlike entry (read my review here). New Horizons captures what the world wanted as an escape from a pandemic at the time of its release. Compared to the original, New Horizons is more likely to go down in any history of video games for its popularity and the social impact it had. New Horizons serves as an artifact of its time. In contrast, Animal Crossing brings forth a far less idealized (but still very fun) reflection of reality. As the experimental origin of the series, it does less to interpret desires of the masses, and does more to capture a sentiment about modern lifestyles. Animal Crossing is artistic ethnography embedded in a toy with indifference towards being seen as an art. It's not a film, not a painting, not a sculpture, not a song, not a dance, not a book. It doesn't strive to be anything like them.
Animal Crossing for the Nintendo GameCube could only want (and deserve) to be recognized and respected as itself; a video game through and through.