Animal Crossing, page 28
Animal Crossing
Kelsey Lewin
Boss Fight Books
Los Angeles, CA
bossfightbooks.com
Copyright © 2024 Kelsey Lewin
All rights reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-940535-34-0
First Printing: 2024
Series Editor: Gabe Durham
Associate Editor: Michael P. Williams
Cover Design: Cory Schmitz
Table of Contents
Preface
Introduction
History’s Important, You Know!
You’re New in Town, Aren’t You?
Genre: Communication
Cute and Poisonous
Where YOU Are the Famous Fashion Designer!
The View From the Treehouse
Snow Prints and Sunburns
Na Me Moh, Me Mow
It’s a Lot of Fun, I Swear
Rules are Rules, OK?
This Be a Wee Bit Technical, So Ye Better Mind Me Close!
Slow Down, Chill Out
A Blank Canvas
Notes
Acknowledgements
PREFACE
“The original Animal Crossing” can refer to several different games, except they’re really all the same game. Kind of. It’s confusing, I know. If you’re in the West, you might be picturing the game’s release on the GameCube, and yes, it’s that! But it’s also Dōbutsu no Mori, or “Animal Forest” as it literally translates to, which was first released on the Nintendo 64 exclusively in Japan in 2001. It was late enough in the Nintendo 64’s lifecycle that it didn’t stay there for long—the development team added new features and brought it to the GameCube that same year as Dōbutsu no Mori+. No core mechanics were changed—the game was simply built with an updated list of items and villagers, and a few new tricks up its sleeve. What we ultimately saw in 2002 as Animal Crossing—the Western world’s first experience with the series—was a version built from Dōbutsu no Mori+, but with several changes beyond just its translation, like the inclusion of new Western holidays and furniture. This Animal Crossing was re-translated back into Japanese with the Western holidays intact (plus a few more features) and released only in Japan as Dōbutsu no Mori e+ in 2003. The history, development, and philosophy behind these four games are essentially identical—because they are the same game.1
Of course, there are anecdotes that apply only to the development of the Western Animal Crossing on the GameCube, but everything about the development of Dōbutsu no Mori on the Nintendo 64 also applies to any of the GameCube versions. Think of GameCube Animal Crossing like a second printing of a book that includes a few bonus chapters.
This book is about “the original Animal Crossing,” which really means it’s about all of these versions at the same time.
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1 Of course, Animal Crossing also released in Europe and Australia, and a version even made its way to China, but the point that “they’re all basically the same game” still applies.
INTRODUCTION
“Animal Crossing is a very inconvenient world,” admits series director Katsuya Eguchi. Some say it’s a game that can never be completed, and others say it’s a game that ends when you’re satisfied. It’s an easy world to live in and yet nothing in it comes easy. Its critics say it’s a game of chores and tedium, and its biggest fans say it’s an extension of the soul. In fairness, these are all probably true, because Animal Crossing is not a game that forces you to do much of anything. Much like life itself, Animal Crossing is what you make of it.
That’s…a weird way to describe a video game, but no matter how you slice it, Animal Crossing is tough to explain. You move into town as the sole human in a village full of anthropomorphic animal neighbors, each with their own personalities. It’s a small, simple community where everyone knows each other, and that’s all you get—there’s no exploring the rest of the world. The game is set on a clock system synced to the real world, so when there’s a holiday in the real world, there’s a holiday in the game, too. You can do a variety of activities in town like fishing, bug-catching, collecting furniture, chatting with your neighbors, designing clothes, writing letters, and attending community events—but even a list like this doesn’t really explain much. Those things sound pretty mundane, and yet the series is now one of Nintendo’s highest-earning franchises, with Animal Crossing: New Horizons even eclipsing the original Super Mario Bros. for all time sales in Japan. So what gives? Why do people love Animal Crossing?
Ask around and you’ll get dozens of different answers. For me, I was first drawn in by the charming art style and the promise of freedom. I was an angsty, unpopular schoolgirl when I first found the game, and it looked like an escape. Not limited by the totally unfair rules my mom set in the real world, I could paint my virtual room black or wear a shirt with a skull on it (well okay, it was a dress, and I wasn’t thrilled about that), and not a soul would judge me for it. I could express myself and still be just as important a member of my town as all of my neighbors. Sure, I liked fishing, designing custom clothing patterns at the tailor, and decorating my house, but what I really loved about Animal Crossing was that the community I inhabited felt…real.
There was something about it that struck me creatively the same way Dungeons & Dragons or IRC text roleplay did for many kids. It’s obviously not a “Role-Playing Game,” but instead felt like something more akin to playground LARPing2. I knew that the animals in the game weren’t real, and weren’t so advanced that they literally understood the letters I wrote to them, but I always wrote to them as if they did. I wanted my little part of the world to feel alive.
Animal Crossing excels in its creative tools. There are hundreds of pieces of furniture to find and arrange, and an infinite amount of custom patterns you can make to adorn your clothes, walls, and even signs around town. But it’s not just about wearing the clothes you want to wear or making a room look pretty—it’s about carving out and curating a corner of the world that reflects who you are. How you express yourself creatively is how you communicate your identity.
Animal Crossing also appeals to completionists and collectors. To fill and complete the town’s museum, there are well over 100 different items to obtain—some of which are incredibly rare or can only appear under certain conditions. To collect all the furniture in the game and complete the game’s catalog is even more difficult. These are sizable challenges that can take literal years to complete, but chipping away at them feels satisfying, and the payoff personal. The game’s major goals reward you with little more than cosmetic bragging rights—unique pieces of furniture or items that exist only to communicate that you’ve succeeded.
And of course, some people simply find Animal Crossing a relaxing experience. There’s joy in simplicity, and a peaceful village life of fishing, planting trees, and chatting with neighbors is just… nice. Our real lives are full of obligations, deadlines, and decisions, but Animal Crossing requires nothing of you. It’s a slow-paced world where it’s easy to take your time existing.
To be honest, there’s not a lot of actions in Animal Crossing that I can describe as concretely “fun.” There are collectible furniture items in the game that let you actually play classic NES games. (A game within a game! That’s pretty cool?) Fishing and catching bugs, or chopping down a tree with an axe, might be considered kind of fun. But the game isn’t enjoyable because of its gameplay—it’s because of something a lot more abstract.
Animal Crossing is billed as a “communication game,” which is not really a genre, yet no other genre really fits. The idea of enjoying communication is baked into the game at every level. Talking to your neighbors reveals their bright personalities and amusing, lifelike dialogue. Sharing your designs, your house, and your town with others is a fun way to express yourself (to actual people). Even “analog” means of communication, like writing letters and posting notices on the local bulletin board, are heavily encouraged.
Perhaps most importantly, playing Animal Crossing over the course of months, even years of your life, is an entirely different experience than trying the game for just a little while. Your town becomes your community, and existing in that community feels purposeful. You won’t notice it happening. Your animal neighbors might seem plenty friendly when you meet them, but they’re just characters in a video game. It’s not until you’ve seen them around town every day, spoken to them hundreds of times, and shared holidays with them that you’ll realize they’ve slowly become an actual part of your life. And that sense of community feels real.
It feels real because it doesn’t depend on you at all. You may have a cool house and snazzy clothes to parade around in, but you’re not special. Life moves on for your village whether you’re there to see it happen or not—like reality, your participation in the world is optional. There is no “completing” Animal Crossing, no true endgame, no grand rewards, and no consequence for doing nothing at all. Anything you choose to do in the world of Animal Crossing, any goal you pursue, is a choice you make for yourself… and that makes it meaningful.
No other game captures this feeling. Animal Crossing is made up of hundreds of disparate elements all braided together in a way both brilliantly detailed and astoundingly simple. The details create life: bushes rustle as you walk through them, your neighbors turn their heads to look at you as you run past, or stop to admire a butterfly. The simple life you live is full of tiny surprises, and because the game runs in sync with real-world time, you’
“Try to check-in on your town every day, even if just for a bit,” producer Takashi Tezuka advised players in a 2001 interview right around the game’s release. “We’ve prepared a number of unique events that happen throughout the course of the year, so even if playing every day is hard, just checking in periodically can be fun, to see what’s changed.”
Animal Crossing is alive. Nearly every day you’re greeted with something different than the day before, whether it’s a traveling visitor peddling rare items, a fishing tournament, or a special holiday. You can’t see it all unless you come back to it over and over again. It’s a slow and satisfying burn.
Perhaps you’ve read all of this and you still don’t “get” it. I’ve waxed on about feelings and community and communication, but none of this quite sounds like a video game. Here’s the thing: No one really “gets” the original Animal Crossing. Not its fans, not its critics, not the people in charge of promoting it, not even its creators. Nearly every review boils down to “look, I don’t know, I can’t explain why it’s fun, it just is, okay?” In fact, I think it’s going to take a whole book to explain.
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2 Live Action Role-Play, a type of role-play in the real world that includes elements of improvisational character acting.
History’s Important, You Know!
Hisashi Nogami does not speak English. I, for all of my late night Duolingo sessions, do not speak Japanese. So when a friend of mine at Nintendo told me that he could introduce us, I was all nerves and barely-suppressed fangirlism. I met Animal Crossing’s co-director Nogami in 2018 at Nintendo’s E3 booth (well, their much less colorful, two-story press room and work area behind their E3 booth), and was surprised to see him look so straight-lipped and serious. After all, he was here promoting DLC for his wacky, urban squid-based shooter Splatoon 2, and had been photographed just hours ago doing silly poses in a lab coat and sunglasses. We exchanged polite small talk through a translator, but his demeanor changed instantly when I brought out my Japanese copy of Dōbutsu no Mori, the very first Animal Crossing game for the Nintendo 64.
“Oh! Wow!” He said, his face lighting up. “I can’t believe you have this. I’m honored to meet such a big fan.”
I wasn’t there entirely for an autograph, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn one down either as I watched him grab a sharpie and stare thoughtfully, smiling at the box. I instantly recognized what he was drawing: Bob, a fan-favorite villager, the lazy-looking purple cat whose catchphrase is an onomatopoeia of blowing a raspberry. This was the Nogami I knew. I had my friend ask him if Bob was his creation.
“Oh, Bob!” he said in English, flashing a warm, toothy grin. And then in Japanese: “Yes, yes, Bob is the best!” I was a little surprised he instantly recognized the name: In my excitement I had completely forgotten that the character is not “Bob” to him, but called “Nikoban” in Japan instead. Nikoban, like many of the villagers’ names, is a pun. It’s a play on the phrase “Neko ni koban” (a gold coin to a cat), which shares the same meaning as “pearls before swine.” It’s a perfect name, and a perfect expression of Nogami’s goofball nature.
Nogami began at Nintendo in 1994, about four or five years before work started on Animal Crossing. In 1990, then-president of Nintendo Hiroshi Yamauchi realized his company’s future faced a new potential issue. The Famicom’s3 unprecedented success within a growing video game industry brought in droves of wannabe game creators: Kids now wanted to make games when they grew up, and game design courses were starting to pop up at universities. This was great news for the industry, but for Nintendo to maintain its position on top, it would need to consistently hire the best new talent. Their solution was to partner with one of Japan’s largest marketing firms, Dentsu, to create a program they called the Nintendo Dentsu Game Seminar. It was something like a cross between an internship and a college degree program. Hundreds of applicants to the program were narrowed down to a class of just 30 talented students who would work on site at Nintendo’s office, receiving hands-on training and creating their own games in groups to gain valuable industry experience before potentially joining the company full-time. The first two years of the ten-month program were held only at Nintendo’s Tokyo office, a satellite office historically used for sales and marketing, but in its third year, another seminar began in Osaka, where a young Hisashi Nogami was attending Osaka University of the Arts.
Inside the gray, unassuming Osaka office, Nogami spent his time surrounded by sterile white walls, attending lectures, and learning to design games for the Super Famicom. Despite the uninspiring environment, his student work at the Nintendo Dentsu Game Seminar was good enough to get him hired: After graduating from Osaka University of the Arts and the seminar, he was brought on board at Nintendo as a designer full time.
Almost immediately, Nogami found himself entrusted to work on some of Nintendo’s most important burgeoning franchises, like The Legend of Zelda and Mario Kart. His very first credited game was one of the most iconic: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island, the follow-up to Super Mario World, brought to life with his now iconic hand-drawn, crayon-like art style.4 Although Nogami’s initial game credits were as an artist, it was not uncommon at Nintendo for artists to quickly become full-blown game directors—and that’s exactly what he would do a few years later.
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“Nintendo? What, that card company?”5 The year was 1986. 20-year-old Katsuya Eguchi was just about to graduate from Japan Electronics College and was still laboring over where to apply for work when he was done, when a friend suggested he try to find a career in video games, something he knew Eguchi to enjoy.
“I loved video games, but I never had a console… I always went to the arcade to play,” Eguchi said years later, recalling this story. “I had actually never heard of the Famicom or NES! But I thought, hey, I like games…so let’s see what I can do!”
With a degree in computer graphics in hand, he applied to Nintendo later that year. Leaving friends and family behind in his home prefecture of Chiba to work in Kyoto was a lonely, sobering experience for the young Eguchi. He’d spent his whole life in Chiba, 300 miles away, so receiving a job offer from Nintendo was exciting but intimidating. His first brush with a Famicom system, then nearly three years old, wasn’t until he arrived at Nintendo, where he discovered a colleague playing Super Mario Bros. The Super Mario Bros. series would become his first credited project, doing level design work on Super Mario Bros. 3 and eventually Super Mario World, shortly thereafter being entrusted with a director role on Star Fox for the Super Nintendo. Enthusiastic and creative, Eguchi quickly became a staple of Nintendo’s growing development staff.
A few years and several games later, the now-senior Eguchi and the still-fairly-fresh Nogami worked together on Yoshi’s Story. Like many games in development around this time, Yoshi’s Story was originally slated to be a title for the ambitious new hardware add-on for the Nintendo 64, the 64DD. Using magnetic disks instead of cartridges, games for the 64DD could store data cheaply and write directly to the disk (rather than by using an expensive battery inside the cartridge.) The system itself was full of promising features like online capability and an internal clock. Also like many games in development at the time, Yoshi’s Story ultimately became a standard cartridge-based game instead. With that project wrapping up, and perhaps with some of their disk-based ideas left unrealized, Nogami and Eguchi found themselves trying to come up with concepts for a new game for the 64DD.
By now it had been more than a decade since Eguchi was hired, and he felt nostalgic for his hometown. He missed being able to spend time with his family and friends, and the sense of familiarity and community he shared with them. “I wondered for a long time if there would be a way to recreate that feeling,” Eguchi said. “That was the impetus behind the original Animal Crossing.”
