The video games you mentioned are some of my favorites too! I’m currently playing Tears of the Kingdom and absolutely loving it. I’ll keep an eye out for the artist and mayor as I play.
What you’ve written really captures why I’m so drawn to video games—the quests, the possibilities, the endless exploration.
In American culture, I feel like many things are designed to be separated, largely out of a fear of potential problems that may never materialize. We don’t often embrace the layers of history embedded in our buildings, as buildings here tend to prioritize utility over character or intrigue. That’s why so many stores are just plain rectangles—they maximize usable space. But in doing so, we’ve essentially turned our surroundings into functional factories.
In video games, by contrast, layout feels inconsequential. You don’t pause to wonder where a house’s septic tank is, or why the streets are so clean—unless you’re playing Animal Crossing, where picking up trash becomes part of the game’s charm and purpose.
This idea of being assigned a quest is fascinating. In Animal Crossing, you clean up the town because it’s your town; it’s your quest. But in real life, when we see trash on the street, we tend to think, “Someone else did this,” and just walk by, feeling detached from the problem. We don’t view it as our quest to fix.
I wonder if this mindset stems from how we’ve structured our culture—our zoning laws and separation of spaces reflect those “what if” scenarios, creating distance between people and their sense of shared responsibility. In European cities, where people live in closer proximity, seeing trash might feel more personal. Instead of blaming a stranger, there’s a sense that it could be the work of a neighbor, which makes it easier to see the problem as their responsibility to address—or better yet, our responsibility to fix.
What I’m getting at is this: if we could approach problems—any problems—and see them as our quests to complete, regardless of whether a stranger or a neighbor caused them, I think we’d see a significant cultural shift. That simple shift in perspective could create stronger communities and a deeper sense of connection to the places we live in.
“Another settlement needs your help”…now I want to fire up Fallout 4 again 😄
Nice!
The video games you mentioned are some of my favorites too! I’m currently playing Tears of the Kingdom and absolutely loving it. I’ll keep an eye out for the artist and mayor as I play.
What you’ve written really captures why I’m so drawn to video games—the quests, the possibilities, the endless exploration.
In American culture, I feel like many things are designed to be separated, largely out of a fear of potential problems that may never materialize. We don’t often embrace the layers of history embedded in our buildings, as buildings here tend to prioritize utility over character or intrigue. That’s why so many stores are just plain rectangles—they maximize usable space. But in doing so, we’ve essentially turned our surroundings into functional factories.
In video games, by contrast, layout feels inconsequential. You don’t pause to wonder where a house’s septic tank is, or why the streets are so clean—unless you’re playing Animal Crossing, where picking up trash becomes part of the game’s charm and purpose.
This idea of being assigned a quest is fascinating. In Animal Crossing, you clean up the town because it’s your town; it’s your quest. But in real life, when we see trash on the street, we tend to think, “Someone else did this,” and just walk by, feeling detached from the problem. We don’t view it as our quest to fix.
I wonder if this mindset stems from how we’ve structured our culture—our zoning laws and separation of spaces reflect those “what if” scenarios, creating distance between people and their sense of shared responsibility. In European cities, where people live in closer proximity, seeing trash might feel more personal. Instead of blaming a stranger, there’s a sense that it could be the work of a neighbor, which makes it easier to see the problem as their responsibility to address—or better yet, our responsibility to fix.
What I’m getting at is this: if we could approach problems—any problems—and see them as our quests to complete, regardless of whether a stranger or a neighbor caused them, I think we’d see a significant cultural shift. That simple shift in perspective could create stronger communities and a deeper sense of connection to the places we live in.