For context’s sake, I should probably start this off by saying that I pretty much grew up in a farm. I was all of three months old when my Mom went back to work, leaving me with a lady neighbor of my grandmother’s during the day. This woman, whom I have called “Nana” since I can remember — one of those names children come up with (weirdly fitting, in this particular case) that end up sticking, even among other people –, grew all sorts of vegetables and fruit trees, had chickens and rabbits, fed and often took in the neighborhood’s many stray cats, and overall led what could be called the life of a professional housewife. This true second mother, that I am more deeply grateful for than I can express, always involved me in her tasks of seeding, planting, watering, feeding — and so, it was very early on that a love for this sort of life began to sprout in me (no pun intended, sadly).
I am a ridiculously nostalgic being by nature, but these days in particular — the early mornings when my father would drop me off at the house; the smell of wet soil and clean air; the flowers just starting to open up for the sun; the water reaching the end of the trenches, waiting for its course to be changed — are a symbol for childhood for me: a synonym for all that was good about it.
I must have been around 12 when I first started to play Harvest Moon. Funnily enough, or maybe not so surprisingly, this was shortly after I stopped going to Nana’s every day. Sitting at the family’s computer in our old apartment, nurturing a hermit’s life, I emulated Harvest Moon 2 thoughout the seasons, all the while reminiscing about what had been (yes, that’s possible at 12. I guess?) — back then, the 2D graphics seemed beautiful, and I always looked forward to winter, when the music became mellow to match the soil covered in snow. The cozy feeling HM2 gave me is one that I would never come to find in a video game again — not even in its improved successor, HM3. Harvest Moon 2 had become a synonym for home, a synonym for comfort — one that could hardly be replaced.
To prove just that, throughout the years — for the sake of reference, I am 29 now –, I unsuccessfully searched far and wide for that same cozy feeling in the world of video games. I almost attempted to keep up with the Harvest Moon series — or, well, to try some of its new titles, anyway –, but everything had become so complicated, what with the dozens of new functions available, that I gave up before even starting. I wasn’t looking for a dating sim, or deepened world exploration, or upgraded fishing — I simply wanted a farm to look after, day in and day out, in the most basic sense possible, just as I had all those years before. In this sense, when my boyfriend told me about Stardew Valley, I had mixed feelings: the trailer definitely hinted at an important social link component to the gameplay, which I wasn’t at all interested in. The game did, however, positively look like a Harvest Moon rip-off, which is (mostly) a compliment: and so, when it came out for the PS Vita, I decided to have a go at it. Why not, right? Which brings me to my next topic, a funny thing about memory: how well it can lie. When I thought back on HM2, my mental image of the graphics was quite flattering: how comfy and simple and cutesy and clean it all was!
Turns out this is what it actually looked like:
In his Why Remake Final Fantasy 7? video, Casen from Dark Pixel Gaming makes a very good point of how some games require a remake for the mere sake of feeling the way they did back when they met our outdated expectations. Translation: because of how I felt when I experienced it, my memory of 2001’s Harvest Moon 2 looked just as good as 2016’s Stardew Valley. Spoiler: I was wrong.
With that in mind, and while I am extremely grateful to Stardew Valley‘s indie developers, the game is pretty much a rip-off of Harvest Moon, from, well, everything to everything. This is good, though: the HM series — now fashionably retitled Story of Seasons, after some very confusing changes in licensing — was getting a bit out of hand, and SV manages to add some interesting elements to gameplay, such as the dungeon crawling and the bundle collections, while still keeping the best the originals had to offer.
The good news is that the game feels big enough that you — well, I, anyway — don’t feel like you’re missing out if you don’t engage in every single activity. Example: after 34 hours of gameplay, I still haven’t for the life of me figured out how to catch a fish without wanting to spoon out my eyeballs — and hey, I’m okay with that. My fishing skills shall forever be at 0, and that’s a trophy I won’t mind leaving behind.
When a game can be played forever, replay value is obviously immeasurable, and that seems to be exactly the case with Stardew Valley. For those new to farm simulators, it’s a great place to start (and stay at). For veterans such as myself, it has both the flavor of the old and the beautiliciousness of the new. If what you’re looking for is something to lower your heartbeat to a relaxed minimum while keeping your senses entertained, I can’t think of anything better. I’m glad I finally found my ultimate HM2 substitute — not exactly where I expected, that’s for sure, but for good.
All Creation 