Just a pleasant simulation of socialization. We’d chat a bit, catch up, then go about our lives. I loved stumbling across some little memento on the GameCube, finding something and thinking, “my friend Bob would love this gingham parasol.” Little trinkets that said “Hey, I’m thinking about you” I found when I was out on a walk. There is such a wealth of meters and timers to keep track of in Pocket Camp that Mega Mall Story 2 seems chill by comparison. There’s more in Pocket Camp, and going by the reviews I’ve read New Horizons too, that has far more in common with a Kairosoft game. But at this point, the Animal Crossing games that are focused on management far outweigh that original game. I’ve previously written about how Nintendo seems to have lost the plot to their own franchise. And to fully unlock it, you have to raise meters. Because despite the central conceit of campgrounds and caravans, Animal Crossing fans want to decorate a “home.” Even, it would seem, if it isn’t technically their own. Still, I’ve been logging in every couple of hours, getting my fish measured, and maybe tapping on some campsters to give them stuff to level up our friendship meters.īut there doesn’t seem to be any reason for it. It’s a slim addition, adds next to nothing in the way of mechanics, and aside from a few bits of dialogue, some themed furniture and home design challenges, there’s little to tease the upcoming game. Tap on them, catch them, and Nook will measure them. has an island you can visit, a tiny representation of a beach with orchard-like rows of trees in the saturated green background. If the two games communicate in some way. Screenshots aside, I wanted to see if, Advent calendar style, there was a tie-in to New Horizons. They could stay frozen in my prickly hellscape for all I cared. But those animal “friends” in Pocket Camp? I bought them with fruit and seashells and by building the furniture they wanted. I left my real friends who would eventually move on to more immediate, more anime, way more horny, but ultimately greener gacha pastures. So I made a ghastly cactus hedge maze, left my campsters to deal with it, and deleted the app. I can’t tell you how infuriating this was. Except for a few blank squares-I’d reached the placement limit. I crafted so much goddamn cacti, and I laid it out in an indomitable grid. My partner, their mother, and a number of my friends all plunked away at buying friendships with animal campsters, checking in every few hours to craft new furniture, and arranging campsites as they saw fit.Īt least, I tried really hard to fill mine with cactus. I tried to make myself love Pocket Camp when it came out, trying to ignore the pressured capitalistic approach to friendship as best I could. Some quite lovely, others hilarious and simultaneously nightmarish in the way Junji Ito’s The Enigma of Amigara Fault is. I’d been seeing stray screenshots on my timeline for a while now. Which, despite my belief that it had long since died out, has been thrumming away, expanding and building up its campground-fantasy-cum-stop-gap-mobile-measure for the Animal Crossing fans who just needed something. Nintendo may have finally come around to show love the Animal Crossing fans have sorely missed by finally putting out a new game, but they won’t push it a few days early for everyone practicing social distancing and rapidly burning through their Netflix queues. Can you imagine?īut this is an article about Animal Crossing. My dad just told me “Nancy Pelosi should be president” for fucks sake. By shitty boomers, and the chain of people who still buy into their bullshit. By old men (and a few women) with more money than humanity. And even at best, the world is still run by her generation and stragglers from immediately before. I’m nearly the same age now as she was then. “You are the future, and it’s up to you to shape the world you live in,” that’s what teachers, Linda Ellerbee, even Captain Planet pushed constantly. It was so opposed to the message from every other source. Still do (but I’m older and tired and more traumatized now, so I have a locked alt).īut what my mom said stuck with me for over 20 years. Look, I told a lot of boomers to go fuck themselves. Pretty sure I told my mom to go fuck herself. I probably told the headmaster to go fuck himself, too, when I was dragged to his office by the armpit. Franz, my bootlicking 6th grade social studies teacher, to go fuck himself. I don’t remember the preceding argument, but it was likely because I told Mr. Once, my mother very tersely said, “Listen, my generation won’t die, and you’re going to have to find a way to deal with that.”
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