It was the kind of game to make you reconsider what makes a good video game and I'm always happy for surprises like that. The closest thing Animal Crossing had to a main quest was upgrading your home and paying off your loans, but even that was optional, with no interest or due dates attached to the upgrades. Want to go fishing? Plant fruit trees? Make a tiny garden? Turn your basement into a cement nightmare filled with the discordant music of a dozen gyroids? Sure, go for it. I was no stranger to hanging out in quaint virtual towns, thanks to all the hours I spent in Harvest Moon 64, but I had never played a game that was as laid-back as Animal Crossing. It just dropped players into a lazy little town filled with talking animals and said, 'Do what you want.' No platforming, no shooting, just some good old-fashioned small-town life. Animal Crossing feels almost ubiquitous after the release of New Horizons in 2020, so it's easy to forget how quirky the original GameCube version felt.
