In Now Playing articles PC Gamer writers talk about the game currently dominating their spare time. Today Phil shuns the world in Stardew Valley.
I came to Stardew Valley as a cynic. I d seen screenshots, I d seen praise, I d seen it topping the Steam chart. It s a sickeningly cheerful RPG about farming, I thought. Can it really be that good?
Yes, it really can. I ve now played for over 25 hours, and I m creeping towards the end of my first year in Pelican Town. After the initially overwhelming introduction to Stardew Valley s many activities, I gained an economic foothold via the fishing minigame. It s a pleasant time waster, and easy enough that I could haul in a decent catch in a day.
That s when the numbers started growing, and everything became compulsive. Fishing gave me money that I invested in seeds. Weeks later, the seeds became vegetables, and money started to pour in at a steadier rate. By summer, I d made enough to buy chickens. By autumn, cows.
At this point I was a full-time farmer, hand-watering rows of crops, brewing pale ales, and creating artisanal cheese and mayonnaise. I became the hipster s hipster, supplying the town with all the raw materials of gentrification without any of the downsides. Even homeless hermit Linus has his tent.
It s winter now, and I m tidying up the wilder edges of my farmland. I m investing in upgrades, new buildings, and finding more valuable resources in the mines. It s all with a goal of increasing production in year two. Come spring, it all begins again this time, with the benefit of tens of hours of experience. I m using an external tool to map the ideal layout. Stardew Valley has its tendrils in me, and it s not letting go.
A few remnants of my cynicism remain. Stardew Valley asks you for a few basic details on character creation. As a result, I m the proud owner of Atrocity Farm. When I find an energy-boosting stardrop fruit, I m told that my mind is filled with thoughts of petrol bombs. It s like having a friend who teases your latest hobby, but instead it s my past self mocking me through time. And for good reason. As much as I m obsessed with the game, I can t quite deal with how gosh darned nice it is.
Pelican Town feels sickly sweet. Its inhabitants are mostly unfailingly polite, even when they don t much care for you. Living in Stardew Valley is like being indoctrinated into a cult, only without the underlying tragedy. It s the version of the countryside people who ve never lived in the countryside dream of moving to. I did live in the countryside. It was boring and full of jerks and cow shit. Not necessarily a higher percentage of jerks than you d find anywhere else, but when there s less people around they tend to stand out. Rural life is full of gossip, and polite, silent judgement. Here, I can t even tell people about the mayor s fling with the ranch owner.
I ve come to admire and embrace the few dark edges that exist in the game. I ve almost entirely ignored the NPCs, because I can t bring myself to join their saccharine community. My favourite character is Haley, because her borderline disgust at my appearance and work feels honest. I ve embraced the life of an embittered loner in protest at the townspeople s anodyne pleasantries. I ve taken to rummaging through bins as characters walk by. It grosses them out, which I find funny. Plus, I once found a pufferfish that someone had thrown away. I sold it for 200 gold.
