#anyways as always pls share your thoughts
Since finishing up my undergraduate studies in June, one of the major things I’ve been doing with my free time is playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons (please don’t @ me but I’ve already logged something like 400 hours). As much fun as the game is, one of the things that’s really stood out to me is how much AC:NH depends on and reifies colonial logics, and how important it is to unpack this in the context of the game’s popularity and the ongoing pandemic.
One of the first ways I want to address colonialism in AC:NH this is through the way I was first introduced to it, namely through its connection to my thesis and what I refer to as the “terraforming imaginary”. Before I started playing or had even decided to buy the game, I was working on my thesis “Constructing New Worlds: An Investigation of Climate Change and the Terraforming Imaginary” (which, shameless self plug but if you’re interested you can check out my 10 minute video presentation for symposium at Johns Hopkins University here). During this time I was talking about my thesis pretty non-stop with anyone who would listen and as a result probably about half of my friends independently sent me this meme
[ID: meme from @animalcrossingmemes which shows two children; the one on the left is smiling and looking off into the distance with the label “daydreaming about terraforming” while the child on the right looks stressed and upset with the label “actually terraforming”. Beneath this meme is text from @kaijuno which reads “I realize this is an animal crossing meme but as an astrophysicist I was really excited for a second that someone was finally seeing the light on how fricking difficult an a huge waste of time it would be to try to terraform Mars”. Beneath this text is another meme with four hands gripping each other’s wrists to make a circle. In the center is the initial animalcrossingmemes image and each arm is labeled, respectively, “Minecraft Players,” “Sims Players,” “Animal Crossing Players,” and “Astrophysicists apparently”]
Although my thesis addresses terraforming in the context of space exploration/colonization, AC:NH’s engagement with “terraforming” (alongside other aspects of colonial practices and desires) helps to expand on the stakes of this. The reason I put “terraforming” in scare-quotes is because…technically, there isn’t any terraforming in AC:NH, given that terraforming is “the operation consisting of rendering other stellar bodies—mainly planets and eventually asteroids—appropriate for human life” (Frédéric Neyrat, 46). While I’m all down for an interpretation of the Animal Crossing world as a non-Earth planet and the villagers as aliens, the island is already suitable for human life and the use of “terraforming” in the game is generally more readily identifiable as geoconstructivism: players redesign and restructure their islands, shaping waterways and topography to create idealistic spaces (as opposed to making the island literally livable). Either way, it speaks to the terraforming imaginary—the underlying set of logics and desires conducive to the imagining and desiring of “terraforming”, ie the logics and desires of colonization. Even though AC:NH’s terraforming isn’t technicallyterraforming, it is an embodiment of the terraforming imaginary, centering desires for the “civilizing”/“cultivating” of a space into an orderly, colonized ideal. On even a very surface level it is useful to think about this through the island rating system: islands are ranked out of five stars, with deductions made for things such as having “too many” weeds or not “cleaning up” by leaving items lying around rather than placed with intention.
Another, perhaps more obvious, way in which AC:NH embodies colonial logics is through the “Nook Miles Tickets”. Players trade in Nook Miles (an achievement based currency) for tickets which they can take to the airport and use to visit other, uninhabited islands which they can destroy to extract all of the resources slash-and-burn style. Players also have an increased likelihood of catching rare insects, fish, and sea animals to display to their own island museum or sell. As Wilbur, a dodo pilot, explains about this process: “we run the ‘finders keepers’ protocol here. Lumber, fruit, fish, whatever? Yours if you can carry it”, going on to emphasize the importance of not leaving anything behind as there will be no returning; they “burn the flight plans” after each flight.
Although the rampantly destructive extraction of resources is the most apparent embodiment of colonial logics, the centrality of the museum and the imperative to complete each wing by finding and identifying all of the bugs, fish/sea creatures, fossils, and artworks in the game is an equally significant connection to colonialism. Benedict Anderson argues in Imagined Communities that the museum, along with the census and the map, “shaped the way in which the colonial state imagined its dominion—the nature of the human beings it ruled, the geography of its domain, and the legitimacy of its ancestry” (164). The specifics Anderson goes into differ of course, because he’s talking about actual colonial states while AC:NH has the fluidity of embodying the underpinning desires which colonialism as process requires to function, but what holds true is that these specific forms of producing, organizing, and displaying knowledge which produced “a totalizing classificatory grid, which could be applied with endless flexibility…to be able to say of anything that it was this, not that; it belonged here, not there” (Anderson 184). Essentially, in AC:NH part of a player’s ownership of the island occurs through a player’s ability to classify and collect artefacts for the museum. Furthermore, this imperative to collect and preserve fossils, art work, bugs, fish, and sea creatures is part of the way the player’s island is positioned as a place of value.
The museum also implicitly functions to reify positions of authority, legitimizing a kind of monopoly of knowledge. In AC:NH, this primarily means the positions of the museum curator (Blathers) and, to a degree, Tom Nook (who selected and invited Blathers) are secured as the authorities on knowledge. When Tom Nook tells the player that the island(s) are deserted, we must take this as truth…yet fishing both on the player’s island and the Nook Miles islands can turn up trash items like old tires, tin cans, and boots. Colonial logics depend on a management of who counts as “people” and what counts as “inhabited” and the myth of empty lands; Tom Nook’s instance that these islands are all deserted is haunted by these lingering traces of some other inhabitation prior to the game’s start.
Okay, so you might be asking what does this all mean and why should we care? Let’s talk about both the game’s popularity and the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic which contextualized its release (and continues to shape daily life). Animal Crossing: New Horizons has not only received overwhelmingly positive critical reception, but is one of the best selling games both for the Switch console and the Animal Crossing series. According to freelance journalist Imad Khan’s New York Times article “Why Animal Crossing Is the Game for the Coronavirus Moment,” the game’s appeal centers in its function as an escape to an “island paradise where bags of money fall out of trees and a talking raccoon can approve you for a mortgage”. Khan quotes Dr. Ramzan (a professor of game narrative at Glasgow Caledonian University) who refers to it as “the universe you’ve always wanted, but can’t get.” Given the significantly decreased mobility and connection that has accompanied social distancing, as well as the increased stress and heightened inequality which have accompanied COVID-19, this probably isn’t particularly surprising. It makes sense that a cute, low-stress video game would be a valuable form of escapism.
Mobility is a particularly fraught discourse in this context: on the one hand, concerns surrounding containment/immobility are heightened in the context of neoliberalism and within colonial societies, which depend upon discourses of individualism and independence to demarcate the “freedom” which comes from capitalist economies. At the same time, the desire for things like connection/community, movement, and spatial autonomy/sovereignty are not inherently colonial, even as colonialist logics frequently position colonial/capitalist/neoliberal expansion as the solution. Animal Crossing is heavily situated within this entanglement, simultaneously offering a very real form of connection (and even protest) for many people while also implicitly speaking to latent beliefs that colonization is a legitimate form of mobility and escapism. To say that AC:NH is the universe we’ve always wanted but can’t get is to refuse to engage with the inherent contradictions of neoliberalism and reafirm the notion that colonial capitalist worlds are worth wanting; that the fantasy of individual wealth and success through destructive extraction and market freedom, when obtainable, is good.
None of this is to say that playing AC:NH is the same as colonization, because of course it isn’t. However, the colonial undertones of the game reflect the pervasiveness of colonial logics and desires in our daily lives, subsequently further normalizing them. Journalist Kazuma Hashimoto, for example, emphasizes the importance of contextualizing AC:NH’s colonial undertones within Japanese Colonialism in “Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Japanese Colonialism”. As Hashimoto argues, “I am only asking that people familiarize themselves with Japanese colonialism and why something as innocuous as discovering a deserted island can be read as colonialism — especially within the context of a Japanese game”.
Inattentiveness to the more subdued, invisibilized manifestations of violence facilitates their internalization and acceptance; educating ourselves and paying attention to and challenging places where we feel comfortable with these kinds of escapist fantasies is an important exercise in critical thinking which can help us to continue to refuse their real life manifestations.
