Is My Video Game Pandemic Playlist a Reflection of My Dwindling Sanity?
From Island Life to Electrical Room Massacres
It’s been quite the year for toilet paper, Lysol wipes, and flour. While these weren’t the apocalypse supplies I thought I’d be scavenging for, I am kind of relieved I am not fighting off herds of zombies, whittling stakes, or raiding abandoned pharmacies for antibiotics. Instead of a strategically cropped t-shirt with a quiver strapped to my back, ready to take on the infected, I am swaddled in a duvet, armed with blue light glasses, trying to battle through my fifth Zoom call of the afternoon.
It’s safe to say; this was not the apocalypse I had expected.
At the beginning-of-the-end, I was at an indie developer event in Toronto for those returning from California. Many had headed south in an attempt to salvage meetings that were to take place during the Game Developers Conference (GDC). Upon arrival, they had been greeted with buckets of hand sanitizer, and in place of handshakes, they used “toe taps” and “elbow bumps.” This COVID greeting continued at the Toronto Meetup, but all caution was abandoned when it came down to the buffet.
If only we had known…
As news spread — and so did COVID — things began to change. All my Video Game and VR conferences and events were either canceled, postponed, or forced into a very Brady Zoom call. We could no longer venture out into the world unless you were on a quest for the elusive two-ply or gathering ingredients for a sourdough mother.
Who knew that a symptom of a pandemic would be complete and utter boredom. I watched as people took to the streets for the sole purpose of wandering, just trying to break up their day. Many of us became obsessed with a Tiger King and his harem of hillbilly husbands, feared death by Murder Hornets (seriously, what happened to them?), and cooed over an egg-eating “baby Yoda.”
But there was one thing that provided the perfect escape; Animal Crossing: New Horizons.
For those with a Nintendo Switch or Switch Lite, we began a new life. A life filled with fruit-bearing trees, uncovering fossils, and chasing fireflies. While you were burritoed in a nest of blankets contemplating the last time you’d showered, you could also be jetting-off to a friend’s island and frolicking through their flora and fauna.
It was a beautiful time, reminiscent of the Summer of Pokemon GO, where pasty gamers were happy and outside for the first time. Although we were technically inside, we could basque in the glow of a virtual sun and our socially-distant loved ones. I met up with friends, traded fruit, and went fishing under a starry night sky. Life on the island was calm, residents were generally happy, and I had grown used to finding Gulliver passed out on my beach.
But then something changed. My little cottage on the river’s edge went from a whimsical hideaway to a hoarder’s den. I stopped donating my creature collections and piled them up around my home. I started collecting random items I found in Nook’s Cranny, everything from lava lamps to Japanese tea sets. If TLC wanted to do a Hoarders: Animal Crossing edition, I was your girl. I was the hermit of Beeblebrox.
While many gamers continued to sculpt their islands into replicas of Versaille or Hogwarts, mine fell into complete disarray. I had to put down my switch and escape the virtual clutter I had created.
Rather than returning to Beeblebrox refreshed, I headed to The Skeld. Among Us offered a new adventure. I no longer had to water my flowers, deal with a narcoleptic owl, or listen to K.K Slider’s incessant tunes. I could murder my crewmates. Lurking in Electrical, under the guise of fixing the lights, I could hunt down the crew and take out my pent-up COVID frustrations. Whether it was a quick game between Zoom calls or Discord game nights, my egghead imposter caused constant chaos.
When I wasn’t acting sus, I was chasing down clickers and hostile humans in The Last of Us II. Weekend mornings became a caffeine-fueled hunt for the Washington Liberation Front (W.L.F), and my relaxing island life soon became but a distant memory.
It wasn’t until I was hiking through the woods with my furry companion Ernest that I began to think I might have a problem. The wintry forest mimicked scenes from the post-apocalyptic game, and every rustle or snap had me looking over my shoulder. But there were never any militant groups hiding behind the trees or vicious zombies roaming the fields. The most dangerous thing I encountered was an unruly tree root, which I, of course, tripped on.
I think it might be time to Marie Kondo my island. Return Beeblebrox to its former glory and remind myself of love, fruit, and friends, or at least stop lurking in vents and decapitating my crewmates.
If you have any uplifting Video Game or VR Experience recommendations tag me at @SDGreenall.
