Heart Container – Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Environmental Intimacy

When I was in sixth grade, I went into a girls room.

It wasn’t the first time I had gone into a girls room, but it was the first time since discovering certain girls could stir certain feelings within me, and this friend was one such girl.

I still remember exactly how her room smelled- dizzyingly sweet, like the bath and body works lotions and Victoria Secret body sprays that lined her dresser. I remember how her bed was fairly high off the ground and how she slept with far more blankets than any one person should. She also had all these various knickknacks she couldn’t part with, and over the course of our long, strange friendship, I’m positive she must’ve explained the sentimental qualities behind each one.

The minimalism of my own bedroom was made clear to me when I first bore witness to the abundance of hers. She hung posters on every inch of her walls, displayed gifts on her end tables, candles on her windowsill, and jewelry on cute racks purchased at Claire’s. Before there was any sort of physical intimacy between us, I found myself a bit taken aback by what I can only think to call a sort of environmental intimacy. I was seeing her world. I was seeing the value she bestowed upon certain items, the way her brain sought to arrange her surroundings, the media she treasured, and various items strewn about that made up her daily routine.

After this realization, I made a conscious effort to examine the environments of all my friends, family, and partners. I took note of their interests and values- used the knowledge gained to know just how to spark conversation, or be what they sought after when they needed comfort. A person’s room helps to give them context- it contains the parts of themselves they cannot put into words. It’s the items in the background of a photograph, the props hidden about a set. These things could go unnoticed, but to some of us, examination is enthralling. Through examination, we see both how a person wants to be seen, and how they see themselves, and I think that’s what’s so incredibly compelling to me about Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

There are many reasons Animal Crossing: New Horizons has become a beacon of comfort and hopefulness, especially amidst a global pandemic. It gives us the routine, monotony, and sense of productivity many have had stripped away from us. It allows us to interact with our loved ones, nature, and a cast of colorful characters who are simply just happy to see you. The music and art are lovely, and are accompanied by this overwhelming sense of freedom and possibility. At a time when, by and large, many of us feel completely helpless, New Horizons makes us feel like we can make a difference. However, I think the most soothing aspect of the game for me is how it has enabled me to better understand my friends.

Prior to 2017, I had absolutely zero “online friends.” It wasn’t that I was against the concept, just truthfully I had no idea how to go about making friends via the internet and already had far too much going on in “real life.” But sometime around 2017, I started to get involved in creating Content™ and quickly learned the value of networking- which, I’ve found, is honestly just a professional way of saying “making like-minded friends.” Since then, the overwhelming majority of my friends are ones I’ve made through the power of the world wide web, and with it comes some difficulties.

With nearly all my “real life” friends, I’ve been to their homes; I’ve seen their rooms, tasted their cooking, sat around their coffee table, and used their hand soap. But once you make friends in different time zones, these seemingly insignificant interactions are next to impossible to have. Sure, I’ve gotten glimpses of Caitlin‘s stuffed-animal COVERED bed and snickered at what a secret softie they are, but it’s wild to think they’re one of the people I consider myself closest to and I’ve yet to drive over to their house, sit on their couch, and watch one of the three movies they’ve seen with them. I’ve yet to immerse myself in their world and experience the same aforementioned environmental intimacy. However, the incredible thing about Animal Crossing: New Horizons is, in a sense, the game kind-of-sort-of lets us do that- with the added bonus of there being no restrictions on budget or impracticality.

Over the past few months, I’ve set sail to dozens of islands. I followed my best friend, clad in a blood-splattered, Victorian gown, as she led me to her incense-filled home- a crystal ball the focal point of her curiosity-laden living room. I parked myself in Caitlin‘s race car bed (that beeps, they excitedly told me) and soaked in the cotton candy colors that fill their room- the same colors that paint their brilliant, but decidedly goofy, mind. My cinephile friend Ben’s room is covered in posters of the films I see him gush about on twitter, and is topped off with a director’s chair pressed against the right side wall.

On my friend Dia’s island, she uses the things she places to tell stories- and god, it’s so quintessentially her. In her living room, I had the unique privilege of watching a hermit crab and a hamster face one another in what appeared to be a very intense game of Settlers of Catan, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

I was in awe as I traversed my friend Alan’s Japanese-inspired urban sprawl- his love for cyberpunk and music, and his city boy status, very apparent in his creative direction. On the other side of the spectrum is my sister-in-law Chelsea, who focuses nearly all her energy on creating beautiful outdoor spaces and covering her entire island in various flora. As a woman who’s dream home can’t be far off from a botanical garden, every inch of her island felt like her realizing that- every inch felt so authentically like her.

And beyond observing my friend’s obvious aesthetics, visiting these islands taught me which of my friends crave order and which are a bit more carefree- which pave paths with stone and which with wildflowers. Some of my friends place every single item they acquire wherever they fancy, no matter how ridiculous it might seem- they show off their various treasures with pride, while others find value in minimalism and careful coordination.

Even before the world went on lock down, being able to see all my friends as frequently as I wished was an impossible dream. Believe it or not, being a full-time student and Gamestop employee leaves you with little time and even less money. But in Animal Crossing: New Horizons, a five hour flight takes mere minutes, and I don’t have to worry about caving into the pressure to buy a mediocre $4 coffee on my layover thanks to the efficiency with which Dodo Airlines operates. Thanks to our pals Orville and Wilbur, we can briefly voyage to friend’s worlds that were previously just out of reach. We can faintly hear their internal monologue, and merge our perceptions of them with their own. This game has allowed us to be intimate in a brand new way, as strange as that may seem, and in a world filled with closed doors, I am very thankful for an open gate.