After a long day of work, I look forward to flying to Lazy Egg, my virtual island in the new Nintendo Animal Crossing a game. What I found was a tropical paradise. Players from all over the internet were crowding in the door on my island. For more than an hour, they came flooding in, striking my game. In their arms, these anonymous visitors all had the same thing: curves.
It had to be like this. With its fantastic storybook, Crossing the Animals: New Horizons it promises a relaxing escape into a less-friendly world. Arguably, the smart home learning simulator has become a hit item during the shutdown. But on Tuesday night, as players scrubbed me with tweets, texts and DMs, my private island felt like hell of my own.
You could argue that this is New Horizons works as designed. There is a game mechanic where players can guess turnips, sell them to pigs for one price and sell them to the raccoon brothers in another. (Players make fun of the story by saying “the stock market. ”) Surprisingly, the prices are not just for the day, but also for the island and the island. For a player who dreams of making it big, having a friend on another island for high turnip prices is like winning the lottery.
At noon on a different day, I checked my turnip price, and it was on the roof. Raccoon twins Timmy and Tommy wanted to buy 602 bins – a per-game currency. Generally, a value less than 100 is incorrect and one over 300 is excellent. After I posted this image 602 at my place of work Animal Crossing chat, watch me & # 39; irises convert into dollar symbols.
A party on the island of Victoria! Do you open the gates now? During work? Haha, I'm just kidding! I started getting DMs from people at the company I was talking to only by passing – not that I thought. Getting to know your colleagues even though you are moving away from the community is a way to play, not a burden.
A short time after 5:30 p.m., I made a serious mistake. I posted a screenshot of my available prices, just for fun, "RIP my Island tonight when all my friends arrive." Minutes after posting, I had strangers on Twitter requesting a tour. At 5:55 p.m., my messaging app blocked the calls to open the gates of my island. At 6 p.m., the first wave of visitors arrived.
I had planned to hide in the Turnip horde of my real home, sitting on my bed, watching my apple TV. (In this case, an apple-shaped television.) This was in vain. Each time a player arrives on your island, the game shows you beautiful pictures that inform the visitor. It takes about 15 seconds, okay if it's one or two people. But with all the flying on Tuesday, I was hooked, only controlling a few steps before the animation began again.
Back in the real world, my phone was ringing as friends, colleagues, and acquaintances came to all forums to say they couldn't log in. Elsewhere, my Dodo document – basically my city address – passed, allowing people I didn't know to visit. And of all, my sky of concernshocked, even though logically I knew there was no reason for this.
The night ended with Brianna Wu – a conference choice, game developer, and friend of a friend – requesting a tour. He made over 2 million bells, left me a 99,000 piece tip, too later he called me America's greatest hero while another friend asked about 9:45 p.m. if my gates were still open.
They were not.
It's not like I came out of it empty. Although not everyone visited the best, those who had left about half a million bell. Also, at 10 p.m. wandering, it felt like it tasted sweet. Part of me felt guilty that I had not been generous enough to let organized players jump on my island. A big part of me wishes I had lied to my values completely. Heavier the head wearing the turnip crown.
If you have never played Crossing the Animals: New Horizons, it's a beautiful game with a dark splendor. You spend your days on your private island, play-up, pay off your home loan, and catch analysts. Eventually, he begins to develop the area, building infrastructure such as shops, bridges, and roads. It's like in real life, except that your income actually reflects the effort you put in and there are some pet friendly friends with punny names.
New Horizons it can be played on its own, but promotes online gaming, making the game an easy hangout in isolation – which comes with built-in functionality. I've been with Nintendo & # 39; s game console console for over a year. Before Animal Crossing I had "one" friend on the platform. I am now 39.
Funny, the game has put me back in contact with friends I haven't talked to for years, including my high school friend who is now a Florida doctor who is fighting covid-19 on the front lines. He called the other day to make sure that I was not "stupid" and ignored the recommendations of the public cuts. He told me heart-breaking stories about his covid-19 patients, how some had died, and how the state was making a jack to help his small hospital. He also told me that he had been dthere are 12 weeks of 14-day work, and that if he did not call his parents night and night, he woke up with many messages because they believed he was dead.
This strange conversation ended: “Yo, Vee, you're joking Animal Crossing? ”That has changed to tourist plans for others, which has turned into other game exchange programs, and, of course, selling turnips. During the voice interviews, the discussions on the provision of islands were interpreted asides about daily life. Are you looking for this magnetic knack rack? Performance is still tight, we are being flooded by covid-19 patients now. Shit, I have this dope katana. Do you want that?
I'm glad the video game has given us something to talk about besides disease and death. In the last few weeks, we have sent more messages than this last year. Part of me is also very sad to know that unless the world hits, there is a good chance we wouldn't have.
I would like to say that the Great Turnip Fiasco was based on an exciting experience. But there is something wrong with the game sold total deviation in these difficult times. Until last week, it was my refuge from the destruction and destruction associated with the novel coronavirus. When the news got worse, I went for the show.
Arrival turned to when my fiancé was forced to join a dinner party. “Father,” he said. “You have to stop playing Animal Crossing and eat. Your island is not going anywhere. ”
I removed her with “Yes, yes! I'm coming! I just need to finish selling these tarantulas. ”
I didn't come to the table for at least 15 minutes, maybe more. I sold tarantulas but was then interrupted by a commodity of twin rrocon twins. After all, I obviously had to upload my new purchase. By the time I did, I could hear the tension coming from my partner.
"Are you angry?" I asked.
"No."
"Are you sure you are not angry?"
"I just wish you were in this world, instead of staying in the spotlight."
The words were shocking, but he had a point. Since Animal Crossing went down on March 20, my opinion is very limited in the screen size of the game console. When I wake up, I ride and reach for my switch and the life I created on my island. I'm changing my avatar outfit to get it ready to start the day – which includes running to earn daily bonus points, watering flowers, checking morning prices, and collecting seafood.
While I was doing this, my boyfriend made coffee, breakfast, bed, showers, brushed his teeth, emptied his bath, took out the trash, and got ready for work. Although I stick mostly to a healthy daily routine, back in the real world, I'm a non-stop slog trying to get into playtime before I get to work.
It may have started enough innocence, but my hobby about the game turned me into a carefree add-on.
In my defense, we live with our pets in a square-foot apartment. When we were both in our jobs all day, it was easy to make our stressed areas work. Now, it is an ongoing effort to avoid cabin fever. When I start to feel claustrophobic, the game allows me to move out of a four-bedroom house with sun, plants and non-Ikea furniture.
The Turnip incident was depressing, but technical issues were not the real problem. My partner had just had a rough day at work. Instead of being with her, I was shepherding my friends, my coworkers – and, of course, some strangers – to bring back fame. I had to be firm when I refused many petitions to keep my island open. Many people were happy about it. Some were not. Over time, the game that was supposed to lift the bell and turn into an enthusiasm where no matter what I did, I was pushing someone down.
At its best, this game is the only loneliness – not the cure. On a recent evening, I visited my colleague Catie Island during a meter bath. In games, you can find rare star pieces by craving falling stars. I had called in sick to work that morning because of a migraine death that left me vomiting nausea. You thought the day of illness would have been the right time to include a video game, but the bright screen hurt my eyes. I spent a day rubbing my forehead with a wet towel, thinking that my digital flower gardens would fail if I didn't root and pour them out.
That night, I played in a mind-blowing pain to get those pieces. The funniest part of my day was standing with Katie on a rocky beach front. The sky was falling back, my migraine was in bed, and it was peaceful. For a few minutes, everything is not so bad. But I left his island, and the migraine was still there.