Why Animal Crossing Is The Loneliest Game I've Ever Played

Even Multiplayer Is An Anxiety Fest

Every time I've had people over to my island, my brain snaps into a place of "Is everybody happy? Are they doing enough? Is this even fun?" to the point where I'm just glad it's over.

"Multiplayer" in Animal Crossing is like playing that energy that comes from someone's point in a conversation wrapping up, and not having anything ready to say next.

There is N O T H I N G to do, other than be imminently aware that you're killing time together.

You could sit and talk, which would be lovely, but an on-screen keyboard isn't very intuitive, and certainly can't replicate a flowing conversation. There's a childlike innocence to whacking each other with bug nets or sprinting around the museum, but is anyone else there to interact or play with? Is there anything other than duplicating your own solo experience?

Hell no.

You can even save up and buy goal posts and a ball, but you can't kick it. Make an entire diner or outdoor area for everyone to sit at, but you can't sit or eat. Get basketball hoops and mountain bikes, but you can't interact with them.

Everything is in this stale, ornamental state where you're acquiring it for the sake of having it. It's modern day materialism at its finest, and you KNOW there's an endless amount of fun to be had if you could actually touch anything, but instead you're trapped like an unwitting mime, aware of the invisible prison walls that confine you, but unable to do anything about them.

Even if you reach the highs of giggling over simultaneously presenting an Oar Fish to camera, back you go to your island of robots, unable to sleep, but awaiting whichever infinite goals the game has in store for the next day.

In so many ways, it's an on-the-nose grindfest with no reward other than what you make. Honestly, that might make it the most accurate life sim of all time, but at least in real life I can drink my morning coffee.