The simple pleasures of Animal Crossing

My alarm went off at 7:15 a.m., playing the once-loved but now highly detested “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler. I woke up a bit groggy, rubbing my eyes and lifting myself out of bed. My hair looked bad, my beard was unkempt and the bags under my eyes seemed to have grown since yesterday. It was fine. This was life in quarantine. 

I couldn’t really focus on that, however. I had a big day ahead of me. I needed to welcome a new neighbor, plant some orange trees in my front yard and make sure I talked to residential services about the status of my home loan. I walked over to the other side of my room, picked up my Nintendo Switch and plopped back into bed. As I booted up “Animal Crossing: New Horizons,” I smiled, knowing that my little island would, without a doubt, keep me busy. 

Many friends, both close and not, have reached out to me, wanting to know more about “Animal Crossing.” For the latter, I give them a sentence or two about how it is a fun slice-of-life simulator, with cute animal villagers set against a lovely tilt-shift aesthetic. For the former, however, things take a turn.

 I delve into the cultural history of “Animal Crossing.” I wax poetic about how its creator developed the first game as a way of coping with a deep loneliness after moving to a new city. I ramble on about the parallels it has in real life — with your community only being as good as what you invest in it. I yell from the rooftops about its wholesome nature as a tool for healing, one that is a far cry from other ultra-popular games that involve mass genocide. I swing wildly from the rafters, crying out about the pioneering of having customization as endgame instead of something like a final boss. In short, I am a fan. And millions of others are as well. 

In fact, an interesting tidbit about “Animal Crossing” is its audience. They are vehement, passionate and fervent. They are obsessive, just like those who play “Call of Duty” and “Halo.” The only difference is… well, everything. Instead of million-dollar prize pools for tournaments or performance-boosting controller augments, “Animal Crossing” has spurred something even more valuable: communities that spring up throughout every corner of the internet. Trading outposts to swap furniture, Instagram accounts to archive high-fashion outfits, hyperspecific photography blogs and much more have sprouted up with the latest release of “New Horizons.” 

But the question remains: What do you actually do in “Animal Crossing?” Well, if the metaphysical explanation above didn’t satisfy that inquiry, let me expand. “Animal Crossing” is made up of emergent gameplay, as there really is no goal. You can use the tools the developer gives you to focus on fishing, interior design, bug catching, crafting projects or even your personal fashion sense.

 Many call these types of experiences “sandbox games,” where players can pretty much do whatever they want. Think of it in terms of childhood pastimes. Sure, the LEGO set with a “Star Wars” ship or a racecar is fun, but after you’re done building it, that’s pretty much it. Now, where it starts to get really interesting is when you look into the corner of the room and notice “the bin.” You know, the bin that’s just filled to the brim with all your LEGO from past sets. You can make anything you imagine; you can build whatever your heart desires. Even at an adolescent age, your brain processes this creative freedom as a magnet for fun, emergent experiences. 

It seems as if it could not come at a better time. In the age of COVID-19, a game like “New Horizons” is perhaps one of the greatest blessings we can ask for in terms of entertainment. I am currently writing this in San Francisco, where the past month has brought rapid change, both culturally and physically. The streets are empty. There are very few cars on the road. The restaurants are closed, and the hospitals are full. You don’t see many people out, and you definitely don’t interact with them if you do. A report released last week showed that our city’s attitude towards social distancing was working — we were successfully starting to flatten the curve. 

San Francisco was starting to make a dent in the pandemic, but were we doing the same thing in regards to our mental health? With our current administration focusing more on the toll this virus will have on the stock market than human lives, it’s an understandably worrisome time.

About two weeks ago, I started “New Horizons” and I was immediately whisked away to a tropical island. I met my fellow islanders. I went fishing. I argued with a Japanese raccoon dog about where, exactly, my tent should go to spend my first night. It was a nice break to know that the most pressing matter of the day was chopping wood for a building or catching a yellow butterfly. There is value in keeping your ear to the ground, listening for updates on our situation as they unfold. But there’s also value in relaxing, taking a breath and knowing this too shall pass. “New Horizons” is this very sentiment in video game form. It was, and still is, an escape.   

On my brief, government-sanctioned daily walk, I observe the ocean. It seems calmer. As I stare, I ponder what will become of global capitalism, of good art and, most selfishly, of commencement. I frown just a bit. Then I remember that a friend of mine invited me to his island later in the day. He wanted to trade some oranges for peaches, in addition to checking out my newly renovated house. My frown turns into a grin, and as I walk back home, I begin to wonder if he’d like some of those newly sprouted apples. 

Written by: Ilya Shrayber — arts@theaggie.org

The Arts Desks’ weekly picks for movies, books, music and television shows. 

Book: “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed

As COVID-19 takes over our lives, all we want is to get the hell out of our houses, but unfortunately that’s not a possibility right now. This book may torture you with its adventure and outdoorsiness, or perhaps it will ignite a spirit for future adventure and exploration when the pandemic is over. Based on a true story, “Wild” follows Cheryl Strayed’s spontaneous (and underprepared) solo journey on the Pacific Crest Trail after multiple traumatic life experiences. The linguistic flow of the author’s story is so captivating that it’s hard to put the book down — and that’s not something I say often. So, if you’re an outdoors enthusiast forced to temporarily live a couch potato’s life during shelter-in-place, or if you’re seeking a rainbow after this rain, pick up this book to vicariously experience a rigorous, yet rewarding, journey of the body and soul. 

Movie: “Lords of Dogtown” dir. by Catherine Hardwicke

If you’re a California kid with a heart stuck in the ‘70s, this one’s for you. Based on a true story, this movie captures the evolution of the “Z-Boys” skate team comprised of a bunch of rebellious teens from Venice Beach (“the ghetto by the sea”). The boys’ lives revolve around skating and surfing, which eventually takes them pro. Vintage-looking cinematography captures gnarly rides on the board while rock classics such as Jimi Hendrix and Rod Stewart play in the background. This film makes you crave living on the edge and doing something spontaneously rebellious like throwing a glass bottle on the street. As a native Northern Californian, my secret desire is to live the carefree life of waves and sunshine. This movie does a brilliant job capturing the spirit of Southern California back in the days of long hair and hippies. 

TV: “Dark Tourist” 

My picks carry a common theme: a burning desire to get out of the house. That being said, this quirky documentary series goes around the globe exploring hot spots of dark tourism. Since we can’t get on an airplane, we might as well explore the darkest parts of the world virtually. Even if documentary series aren’t your cup of tea, this Netflix series may change your mind. Not only is it informational, but it’s also witty and sarcastic. l guarantee a good chuckle and a gasp here and there. Ranging from voodoo festivals in Africa to attending a cleansing ceremony of mummified bodies in Southeast Asia, this show is like watching a car crash — you want to look away, but you just can’t. 

Album: “The Babe Rainbow (AUS)” by Babe Rainbow

Just like there’s no real way to describe the band’s name, there is no real way to describe their sound. It’s almost like the Beatles’s “Yellow Submarine” movie made into music — erratic, unorthodox and definitely influenced by drugs. While listening to it, it’s as though life is a fluffy cumulus cloud hovering over all the chaos — undisturbed and at peace, coexisting with its eccentricity. It’s psychedelic, satisfying and makes you want to roll down all the windows in your car while your hand creates a wave from the passing wind. It’s a feel-good album. “The Babe Rainbow (AUS)” is a perfect accumulation of a carefree outlook on life: simple and one-of-a-kind. As the spring rains turn into summer sunshine, this album embodies the soul of an indie-kid summer. 

Written by: Sierra Jimenez — arts@theaggie.org

Six different backpacks, six different personality types

When my backpack ripped at the beginning of this year and I was faced with choosing a new one, I was met with an overwhelming amount of choices. I had to decide which backpack I would be identified with for the remainder of my college career. Was I ready for that kind of commitment? 

As I did my backpack research, it became clear that different types of people use different types of backpacks — their backpack being a representation of their personality. Here’s what I’ve gathered. 

Jansport 

This regular two-zipper backpack that can endure Davis’ heavy weather reminds me of high-school. I’ll admit it — I had a Jansport back in high school, but so did everyone else. It was sturdy, reliable and would keep your supplies safe. But if you have this backpack in college, I would bet you’re one of the most unorganized people on campus. For one reason and one reason only: It only has two zippers. 

An average college student has three to four classes — that’s a lot of worksheets from some of your less environmentally-conscious professors, not to mention your different pens, pencils, highlighters and erasers. These are the type of people that have everything and will know where everything is, but have to shove their entire arm to get one eraser. It’s like one of those clown cars where one clown comes after another and another and another. 

JanSport Big Student Backpack 

These are the backpacks that have so many zippers I couldn’t even count them. If you have this backpack, take this as your wake-up call: relax. You have way too much on your plate. While college activities and organizations are a fun way to get out of your comfort zone and meet new people, taking on too much is a recipe for stress. What’s important is that you focus on what you have and don’t let it fall apart — as your backpack most likely is doing. Pro tip: Do not let this backpack clutter. Once this backpack gets cluttered, it’s all downhill from there. 

The North Face

When I came to Davis, I was surrounded by an abundance of The North Face. It seemed like everyone here was a brand ambassador. If you have this backpack, you’re most likely from SoCal and have inevitably assimilated into the NorCal culture with a North Face backpack. With that said, this is the backpack I purchased. I am also, however, a really organized person. There is a pocket for my laptop, one for my notebooks and another pocket for emergency medicine (Spring Quarter allergies, am I right?) and my phone charger.

Additionally, there are the three NorCal native options when it comes to having The North Face backpack. 

1. You have never been hiking and wanted to buy the backpack to seem cool because that’s what everyone else was using.
2. You went hiking once and felt alive for the first time ever, decided that this would be the new you, bought all of the necessities and never went out again.
3. You love hiking and everything outdoorsy and you hate everyone that wears a North Face backpack who doesn’t love hiking as much as you do because they’re “fake.” 

A Tote

I genuinely don’t understand how so many things can fit in a tote bag. And don’t your shoulders hurt? These are the kinds of people that bring one notebook, one folder and one pen to campus, and yet are somehow always prepared. 

As for the people that have The New Yorker tote bags, 90% of you all didn’t even buy it to read the news, you bought it for the bag. This bag is solely for looks — or rather, aesthetic.

Fjällräven Kånken

These backpacks blew up a couple of years ago and now everyone has one  — including myself. But to wear these backpacks around is plainly stating that you care more about your backpack being cute than anything else. Half of the reason why I won’t wear it is because it’s bright pink and the other reason is because the straps are not comfortable whatsoever. These are the uwu-type people that edit their pictures with little heart emoji around them. They must be protected. 

Anything Louis Vuitton 

Ma’am or sir, I’m going to need you to take a couple of steps back. This is not a fashion show, this is a public school. Nothing even goes into this backpack other than a major flex on everyone else. Louis Vuitton is so out of reach that I actually had to look up how to spell it. 

Written by: Itzelth Gamboa — arts@theaggie.org

A look into the TikTok generation’s fastest rising star

Nothing has rocked the music industry like the introduction of TikTok, and no artist has benefited from the app more than Doja Cat. “Candy,” “Cyber Sex” and “Say So” are just some of the 24-year-old singer and rapper’s multiple songs that have gone viral on the videosharing platform. Now, she is the queen of one of the biggest apps on the market, but who was she before we knew her as the sexually liberated genre-bending artist she is today?

Born Amalaratna Zandile Dilamini, she was raised in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Not much is known about her family, but it’s suspected that her father is a South African actor while her mother is a Jewish art teacher. Elated to learn of her Jewish heritage, I scoured the internet trying to find confirmation from Doja herself, and ultimately failed. In the name of journalistic integrity, I spammed all of her Instagram live videos with “are u jewish” until I got blocked from commenting for three days. Weeks went by without a response. I began to lose hope — until her 11 p.m. live stream on March 11. After the second comment I sent, she stared at the camera and provided us Jewish Doja Cat fans with the confirmation we craved: “Am I Jewish? Yes.” 

She dropped out of high school to upload her self-produced Garageband songs on Soundcloud. This is where she released her 2013 song “So High.” Later, it became her debut single when she signed to RCA Records. With the release of her debut EP “Purrr!,” she released two of her more popular songs, “Go to Town” and “Tia Tamera,” the latter a collaboration with fellow up-and-coming artist Rico Nasty.

Her first album “Amala” gained mild success, but it wasn’t until five months after its release that it gained widespread acclaim with the release of the music video for “Mooo.” The homemade video shows scenes of Doja in a cow-printed two piece, lazily dancing in front of a green screen that alternates between GIFs of bouncing anime breasts and pixelated flipping burgers. The fun, laid back video paired with the creative lyrics: “B-tch, I’m a cow, b-tch, I’m a cow (Moo, moo, moo) /Got the methane, I’m a farter (Woo) With my farmer (Woo), MacDonald (Woo).” It took the world by storm. In August of 2018, “Mooo” made its way into our playlists and patterns of speech. Propelled by the “Mooo” fame, Doja Cat released a deluxe version of “Amala” with three bonus tracks. One of those bonus tracks, “Juicy,” marked her first entry on the Billboard charts, debuting at no. 41.

Doja quickly became familiar with the darker side of fame. Old tweets resurfaced and she was documented saying multiple homphobic slurs. When confronted, she uploaded one of the worst celebrity apologies to date. The tweet featured her announcing she “has said F****t roughly like 15,000 times” in her life while simultaneously displaying her accepting attitude stating: “Do I hate gay people? I don’t think I hate gay people. Gay is okay.”

There was a moment of outrage: Articles were published and tweets declared her canceled. But the anger came mostly from straight people. Members of the LGBTQIA community did not take as much offense. Many made it into a joke and continued to support her undeniably good music. The controversy blew over, but the joke remains.

After “Amala,” she released “Hot Pink.” Similar to her previous album, it had a slow start. It changed when TikTok user Haley Sharpe uploaded a dance cover. The dance took off, and it wasn’t long before its signature punch and body roll would be recognizable to any TikTok user. People heard the song in the background and started streaming and sharing it. It spawned multiple mashups, many with different verses from rapper Nicki Minaj — the most popular being an incredible pop mix of the background of “Say So” with the lyrics of Ariana Grande’s “goodnight n go.” “Say So” continues to climb the charts, peaking at no. 16 on the Billboard Hot 100, at the time this article was written.

Though Doja Cat is receiving unprecedented levels, she’s not immune to the controversy that seems to follow her on every step of her career. She has most recently received backlash for working with Dr. Luke, the infamous producer, on “Hot Pink.”

Whether you chose to focus on her faults, or ignore them to enjoy her skillful body of work, Doja Cat is currently the most powerful artist on the rise.

Written by: Livvy Mullen — arts@theaggie.org