For this week’s critical play, I played Stardew Valley on the Nintendo Switch. Developed by Eric “ConcernedApe” Barone, Stardew Valley is a farming simulator where you take on the role of a young person who, bored with their monotonous city life, takes over their grandfather’s old farm in the country. In the small town of Stardew Valley, you can farm, fish, mine, and most importantly, build relationships with the other townspeople. I would say the target audience for this game is gamers of all experience levels, from novice to pro. The premise is simple, and the controls are intuitive, but truly understanding the systems requires some prior knowledge of how they typically work in games. I would say that the types of fun here are primarily fantasy, with some elements of sensation. In enacting the role of this new farmer, you engage in an escapism narrative, allowing the player to imagine a life away from it all. Furthermore, all aspects of the gameplay loop are highly addictive, and the feedback you receive from the various systems provides sensory pleasure. Interestingly enough, there is a running joke in the community that the most fun part of Stardew Valley is optimizing the fun out of everything. While this idea of work as play could be another interesting topic for this critical play, this week, we’ll focus on the game’s relationship system.
The Stardew Valley relationship system is quite straightforward. After meeting a character, they are added to your “relationships” menu. Here, you can view various information, including how close you are to them, whether you’ve given them a gift recently, or even if they’re single.
The best way to connect with the people of Stardew Valley is through the gift-giving system. Each person has unique likes and dislikes, and understanding them is essential for building relationships. Reactions to receiving gifts vary widely, ranging from extreme gratitude to apprehension.
This materialistic approach reflects several aspects of feminist theory and critical theories as a whole. For one thing, the discussion we had in class about the underlying anti-capitalist themes may take issue with the clear consumerist nature of Stardew Valley’s relationships. Rather than spending time with a character or getting to know them, you only need to know which item is their favorite. At the same time, one could argue that, however small, this still provides the player with “agency,” a concept mentioned in Play Like a Feminist. Shira Chess wrote, “In short, game mechanics are entirely dependent on player agency” (Chess 89). While the player doesn’t get to choose how to build their relationships, they still get to choose exactly what gifts they give. Even still, since the “best” item doesn’t change day to day, this too can be optimized, a fact that we’ll explore more deeply later.
Despite this seemingly one-dimensional relationship system, the game still aims to give players the impression that they understand the characters more deeply than their level of interaction might imply. Although these interactions do not increase the relationship meter, players can still converse with townspeople, uncovering various facets of their personalities. Moreover, you can observe them engaging in their hobbies around town, making the world feel vibrant and alive.
As mentioned earlier, each character follows a fairly strict schedule that varies based on the day and season. This means that if a player is especially attentive, they can maximize their positioning in relation to their relationship target. This idea naturally culminates with the Stardew Valley wiki and guides on marrying different characters.
This tendency to optimize not only relationships but the game as a whole reflects points made both by Chess and 247G TA Ellie about the “third shift.” This concept embodies work as play and also play as work. By systematizing each aspect of the experience, do we improve it or remove the fun? The answer likely depends on the player. Either way, however, the fact that we tend to act this way at all is a major part of feminist theory’s third shift and should be treated as such.
Stardew Valley’s relationships present a fascinating case study for feminist theory. Much of the player’s agency is merely an illusion: regardless of their choices, the outcomes are largely the same. Even with this issue, however, Dr. Chess “would argue that this false agency, too, is a training by mechanism for a world where we often feel like we have more will, agency, and voice than we might really have” (Chess 91). Even if the choices aren’t real, they still create space to practice making these decisions. Similarly, the third shift in Stardew Valley’s optimization exemplifies life imitating art. Whether by allowing the player to have full control over a situation or serving as an exercise in priorities, the game blurs the line between work and play. Stardew Valley is more than just a simple farming simulator; it’s a glimpse into our inner desires and motivations. By examining the game through a feminist lens, we gain a deeper understanding of why we game, and the systems of power in the world around us.
