The Blissful Loneliness of the Animal Crossing Train

A blue cat named Rover in a red checkered sweater sits on a train. A screen shot from Animal Crossing.

Animal Crossing, Nintendo

I was around ten years old when I got Animal Crossing for the GameCube. I knew no one else who had it, so I played it entirely on my own. I discovered weird ticks of the game, such as getting a gyroid face by visiting and town and resetting the game, or simple things like shoving villagers into pitfalls. I played the game so much that I paid off my house debt and immediately started a new character to start again. Unlike all of the other games I owned, Animal Crossing was the quietest. Its real-time function took a hold of me; I checked my mail, found fossils to mail to the faraway museum, and sold furniture to Tom Nook for a profit. It was a precious place for me.

One of my fondest memories of Animal Crossing is the many times I rode the train. The train was also how you visited other players’ towns. By inserting a player’s memory card into your GameCube, you could travel to their island. Even this form of multiplayer functionality was entirely solitary.

Without a second memory card in the GameCube, Porter, the friendly monkey in charge of the train) would ask if you’d like to ride the train. I would say yes and watch as the train slowly stopped in front of my villager, who would then enter and sit in a window seat. The train pulled out and left town. Then, seconds later, the train returned to my town and my villager would step off, just as happy as ever. I did this constantly, watching my villager hop on and off the train that went in a complete circle.

Animal Crossing is almost twenty years old, and with the newest entry in the series, New Horizons, out and taking social media by storm, I’ve been thinking about my experience with the game from the very beginning. The original felt very solitary. Four players could live in the same time, but couldn’t play at the same time. Even visiting someone else’s town could only be done by one person at a time. The remote feeling felt peaceful.

Travel has always been a key component to the series. Trains, taxis, buses, boats, and now planes are the ways we visit our friends villages or escape to vacation islands. Up to eight players can visit your town at a time, and instead of Porter and his train station, villagers travel by plane led by Orville and Wilbur of Dodo Airlines. These cute dodos fly you from island to island, providing you with tools when yours eventually break, and a seventies-radioesque jingle. Travel is much more of a show now, as you watch the shadow of your plane move from island to water.

One colossal difference between the original Animal Crossing and New Horizons is social media. While there were forums and chatrooms back in 2002 about ways to break the game, the abundance of photos, videos, gifs, stalk market charts, and hacks feel as though they’ve increased exponentially. New Horizons is also fully aware of the era it sits in; villagers now get little smartphones to store their projects, take photos, and earn Nook Miles. To be clear; I love these changes. I believe this game is the strongest one of the entire franchise. I just can’t help but reminisce on my time alone, riding a train for no reason other than to see my villager escape her home briefly.

Even with New Horizon’s new features, I still play the game mostly by myself. So far I’ve visited the towns of my husband and best friend. I think allowing more people to play together is great, and especially handy with the current pandemic we are dealing with, but I have no desire to visit many other towns or share my island on social media. Animal Crossing has always felt like an entry into a secret place, like a diary or a child’s tree house. I’m so glad the series has been a friend-building experience for so many people. For me, I see it as a way to be with myself. I play for an hour or two in the morning, and then a little bit more right before I go to bed. It brings me peace to start and stop my day; I simply cannot let it be much louder than that.

I’ll always appreciate how influential this series has been to me. I’ve written about New Leaf, Pocket Camp, and now New Horizons. I can’t ignore how much I love this weird, friendly life sim. And while I love where the game is now, I do miss the way the quiet, lonely train always arrived right on time to take me away, if only for a moment.

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