a gen z's love letter to the 80's through Stardew Valley

The balance of the "good old days," and what makes retro so nostalgic without experiencing it

To all the Gen X folks. If you had the chance, would you go back to the so-called “good old days?” I know I would click the “off we go” button in a heartbeat. There’s an aroma of wonder in those times that I can’t seem to stop obsessing over even several decades later. That pot of stew is eternal, with no sense to stop; And I sure hope it stays that way.

One of my favorite stories my dad told me of was his weekend routines. The second he woke on a Saturday he trudged in silence to his garage, where my grandpa had built him a hangout room - carpet covering oil marks and tire skirts, and cabinets lining its walls. On sunny days, the rays would shower a square of light on the carpet, and a cold boy shivered down to that hearth of warmth, blanket wrapped, then lost himself into a world of Scooby Doo and the Mystery Machine

How amazing isn’t it? Every time I think of his stories, I can’t help but get a sense of anemoia. I can’t speak to say I was there, a bummer seriously, but I can say I wish I had experienced such a time. The closest I’ve come to experiencing the 80’s or anything retro was well, repeating what my dad lived- cartoons, comics, old music.

I took a weird fascination for the “oldy” things. Oldy” things came as VHS tapes, Red Hot Chili Peppers, flip phones. Old things simply appealed to me and I couldn’t tell you why.

I withheld this love of the past into my high school days. But I didn’t want to just “touch” artifacts. I wanted experience - a museum of unrestricted play. It’s a hard thing to experience in this day and age. The old, vintage glow of the past seems long gone blinded by piercing LEDs, and phone screens. But what hasn't gone is its legacy.

So for the past few years, I’ve begun a journey to relive this past through their legacies. And what better way existed than video games? Sure, I loved the Scooby Doo cartoons, but I wanted to dwell in my own area of comfort.

The real journey began when I stumbled on a game known as Stardew Valley, created by Eric Barone. It told a great story with speckles of RPG, top down dynamics, scattered all around it.

As with most games I play, I explored deep into its lore. I studied its map, the people, the world around it, and what lurked beyond its desert. The game takes place in Pelican Town, a residence nearing the southern bay of the Ferngrill continent, one of two landmasses of its world.

You start off playing a burned out corporate worker, desperate for a life far more than developing tight hip flexors and carpal tunnel. But gramps got just the offer you for. Right before his passing, he hands you a sealed envelope in his deathbed, a will of some kind. He tells you to open it when a time comes to do so - only when life takes a stale turn.

Years pass, and life takes a stale turn. The fiery you feel of cookie-cutter office spaces, cookie-cutter days, cookie-cutter tasks bring you to a read, and a resignation letter. Days later, you’re on a bus to Stardew Valley, where a rural Pelican Town awaits your prospects, and a duty to continue a legacy.

A farmhouse - old and janky, but like most redemption stories, awaits a huge makeover. From here, life’s about to trek off in some quirky ways.

You know how you feel certain vibes to something? Well, this game radiates a warm energy the second you step into the loading screen. It screams cozy. The music, the pixel art, it feels old school and modern all simultaneously. I have to applaud Eric Barone here because he created this whole aesthetic all by HIMSELF. Four and a half years of hard work. It is the purest form of self expression.

What I find so soulful of this game is how it blends the sandbox elements, the creative of Minecraft, with RPG. But the story isn’t forced, nor a requirement to progress through the game. In fact the developer, Eric Baron himself made it so there is no “wrong way to play,” The best games are those that not only express artistic expressions, but one that allows the player to become the artist themselves. It compares to an author leaving just enough holes or intricacies in their novel for the reader to interpret in their own perspectives. A player may play in for the riches, maximizing crop growth and space in sake of vanity. Another player may maximize the aesthetics of their farm, sacrificing profit.

Through multiple play-throughs, the feeling of my dad’s stories reemerged. Radiating. A restating of warmth, like a gentle fireplace bellowing in the dark. Stardew felt like a blurry time machine.

Let’s talk about the town itself- the structure. Pelican Town takes its tucking game very seriously. The whole neighborhood places itself on the corner coasts of the Ferngrill Republic, tucked within the blankets of mountains, whole forests, and bodies of water. All residences, and nodes of convenience jumble together into this ball of convenience. It inherits a tightness and a laid back style.

This slight sub-urbanism, I feel, mirrors much of my dad’s childhood. Rows of houses, either in streets, or scattered, but houses nevertheless, places exceeding just sleep. There lies, a deep, underlying feel to them, as if they are personified characters themselves.

Barone conveys both the romanticization of this “nostalgic” era and its darker turns. It covers what the old years had missed before the modern years had fixed, and vise vera.

But what disrupts this balance?

Social media and excessive phone use. We’re creating a fantasy that simply doesn’t exist, doesn’t need to exist. Why romanticize others' lives, when you live a life of your own?

Social media strained away this glow - a warm, fireplace kind, the reading light kind, into an LED. Pulsing, warm lights may falter in terms of performance or utility, but they provide a sense of beautiful imperfection. The introduction of this “LED” lifestyle, optimizes all aspects of our lives, that it seems the sight of an imperfection is antagonized to the level of the devil.

Stardew Valley, and the 80’s welcome these imperfections, by a warm hand with an invitation to hug. They gratify them, because they exist, the sole reason to be thankful for.

In a modern lens, we would try to optimize our experience before diving into it - sunscreen, lotions, mosquito sprays. Of course, they provide a sense of comfort, but I think true comfort lies in not worrying about a desire for comfort.

Sure, perhaps a vision of nuclear war popped up here and there in your dreams, or during a play-through in Oregon Trail, but did anyone care? No one halted their fun. No one halted their lifestyle. Everyone enjoyed, not just the present moment, but the present within their environment, within the boundaries of their eyes, at least that’s what I hear from my dad.

The world today plagues of overstimulation - news channels bombarding our ears with every event seen in the world. It’s great to be informed, but it’s easy to swallow information without digesting it. We eat them like zombies, no intent of using them. I think we care too much at times. A single flaw in the world is a problem that needs addressing and just what can this achieve?

Even in such bliss, Barone introduces a whole plethora of struggles in Pelican Town. A war between landmasses, ugly family feuds, odd relationships, dark pasts, the town isn’t pretty in its core and - that’s ok.

We play the player in the game, on our Earth, aware of such issues, but without care to extinguish them. The player has his own problems to solve, his own duty to fulfill; and a dream to rebuild. And sure along the way, he greets villains, seasonal changes, and billboard quests, just as we meet others along this journey of life.

The War between Pelican’s hometown and another continent didn’t halt the efforts of the community. They continued to live.

What the Retro Times (80s) Capture

The “don’t worry” feeling

I hear from others that their hands held the day until supper’s call, when the day returned into their parents' grip. Once supper passed, they took to further explorations into comic books and movies.

And while yes, the world has been antagonized, I think there’s an issue of social media that hinders our own childlike expressions. Nowadays, most childhoods are spent in the comfort of homes. We don’t explore houses like fanatical castles, dungeons or the target neighborhoods yard as a treasure bunker.

I think the magic lies in that regard. We treated information like treasure, taking it to heart or out of our minds, one way out the other without a gray area. The gray has widened in the modern mind, where we sort of store them in with a “just in case” mentality. But in a constant environment of overstimulation, they lose in the abyss of others stored “just in case.” Since we take no sides of either the black and white, we can’t process what to make of them. They sit corroding without intention and as cards you pull to reference a temporary position, rather than an idea you stand by wholeheartedly. Without a lead way into what to make of positions, we worry and antagonize what bloats our mind, to ease that tension.

The Balance of Media and Entertainment

The 80s is also a time, prosperous of various media forms, but forms that held a “balance,” among everything. I like to compare the concept into the idea of desiring fruits over candy. The 80s was a time of fruits.

In Stardew Valley, Pelican Town holds a balance of these forms of entertainment. No one node overlaps, or dominates another but instead, complement and their time windows.

The Television. Think of it like a fruit bowl. “Old” entertainment came as televisions, comic books, literature, nature, and the occasional videogames. They all huddle into this fruit bowl, all in similar tastes, and textures, - apples, oranges, grapes. We pick one, and eat, absent of a feeling of preferring one over another.

The value of entertainment on television may match video games one day, to a comic book to the next, and a walk in the forest on another. Pelican Town encapsulates the balance with the routines of the townsfolk, each fruit receiving the same tip of gold it had from its previous guest. All fruits taste the same - sweet, candied, the perfect snack or desert… (for the most part).

Those in the Pelican sought ways of entertainment other than the internal. Everything shared the potential of the inner child’s creativity, and the entertainment value of external sources. Entertainment diversified. Alex plays football, Penny tutors the kids of neighborhood, Marla star gazes. All while much of the residences own game consoles, and television sets.

My dad told me of his own stories too - Tales of watching Scooby Doo, reading comic books, riding bicycles… The world was a gum ball machine of jawbreakers to lick, Pokémon cards to explore…collect. The realms of fantasy blended these two worlds, fun from the digital, and fun from the real. A divide to distinguish “types” of entertainment didn’t exist. It was either fun time - or suppertime.

There roamed a hint of mystery in the world, enough to spark a drive for curiosity far beyond the digital nodes emerging during the time. Digital nodes held great opportunities too, but it was just enough for nature, and “reality” forms to stay relevant.

In the modern era, the scales have collapsed to a whole single side. . We began romanticizing others' lives. Much of our lives run within the digital world, and it’s difficult not to, if we do even wish to steer away from it. It surpasses all powers that may develop the “fun” of real life experiences.

Enjoy don’t Desire

The best times come from enjoying our advancements. I think we’ve reached a point beyond “enjoyment,” and have gone to sucking the marrow of our bones as vampires after draining out all the blood. We feast on this body of media all while, the bodies of the others lay in boredom because, the bones aren't refreshing, or the blood isn’t red enough. Social media introduces candy to the fruit bowl, kicking out any other preferrable sweet treat.

Enjoyment should be diversified

Enjoy many things. I’m sure everyone’s heard of the phrase Jack of all trades, master of none.” But I love the second part following, what most leave out.

“But better than master of one.” The saying applies to our interest, but I think it could prove useful as a tool to web out our dopamine bubbles. Dopamine singled to a node proves risky. Think of investing stocks. Placing stocks in funds such as the S&P 500 where there lie a diverse amount of companies proves far less risky than placing all your bets into the hands of Tesla. A change in number within a single company is volatile, leaning into a clear black or clear white territory. There is no gray area.

Dopamine which leans to the white side, may branch off into severe addictions, this abyss of the waters, while a complete black side spiral one into a state of depression, limited joy. But to go on a bulk to achieve muscle goals doesn’t mean to splurge on McDonalds, nor does the goal to eat more sugar lean to splurging on candy aisle shopping spree in your local Walmart. A system of “fruits,” -enjoyable, but not addictive, levels of enjoyment are vital in a life of success and balance, a no worry life of the late 20the century.

Stardew’s inhabitants diversify their interests, while still maintaining a sense of unity and culture.

T.V’s served as the perfect fine line between overkill of sugar and a mellow dose of fructose, right as the median between the radio and our phones. Nature sits inviting right out backyards, guitars and drums in the corner of rooms, and telescopes out in the porch, a lake, a river. There exists a beautiful mix of all things human creations and the creations of Mother Nature. It balances seclusion with exploration, entertainment with learning.

Complexity in the Mundane

Advice I hear hardwired to my brain aren’t the occasional gold I find in books, or Youtube comment sections on certain video essays, but from my ear - at least the things my ear has numbed to. I’m talking about all the cliche things. Afterall, we can’t hear other beautiful advice without a definitive example of what is cliche. Cliches set the framework for beauties to shine. In other words, there cannot exist “uniqueness” without the “bland.”

My dad cannot go a month, a week even without the words “The little things matter.” It stuck by me hard for most of my life. But I hated it. I hated how obvious it was. Everytime he told me at the end of his lectures, I would reiterate in my head how simple it was - How I had read far more complex, sophisticated advice in complex, sophisticated books. But over the past few years, the covers started to gray. These quotes didn't stand out to me anymore. it’s the simple things returning. And they hit like a truck. I realize just how applicable they are - how its answer lies on such a surface level that it becomes the single most important advice in my life.

Stardew I believe, is a cluster of all these “cliches”, the “mundane” into the setting of Pelican Town. The little posters, comics, crazed sock drawers all hold significance to the greater whole of the room.

Romanticization of Exploration

The 80’s and Stardew is a time of exploration in the mundane. The game takes a simple task, boring you may say - farming - into a funnel of romanization. Each cupboard, tree, and river holds valleys and geographies of their own, open for interpretation and exploration. Barone creates a complex economy in a seemingly simple environment. He takes what we’d think of as simple - fruits, and vegetables, and creates a system of stars, relationships, integrating them into the valley’s economy through the Community Center.

Cozy means treating a 10 minute walk, like a 1492 Columbus expedition. It means taking a rock, and viewing it like an artifact. A life of wonder is a life of the 80s and of retro. I think that’s where the magic stems from.

The great part is, nothing’s changed. Radios still pelt channels, T.V’s blast shows, comic book authors pulse their passions to continents. Drawers wait for adoption in IKEA. Trees wait for a letter for gratitude from a soon to be a morning walker. Sure, options have opened up. But the world is still the 80s.

I think of time as a carriage on the route to an endless station. It picks up the years, the decades, or however time is to be measured. It provides them a comfy seat, tagging them along a ride for however many eternities. The carriage of time always has enough room. It doesn’t kick out a “year” for space, or for splenetic behavior. No years have these things. Instead, it chats with the years. It compliments them, it nourishes them with meals. It comes along for the ride.

All the years before it, make up the present moment. I mean no harm to the introduction of media. In fact, it has introduced a plethora of its own great advancements, opening up a whole new variety of doors, doors waiting for a key, and doors already opened. Perhaps it is just another “station”, another year added to the passenger count within the carriage of time. Rather than acting up as a troublemaking hindrance to the years before it, I’m confident it’ll serve what we’ve left behind, and what’s to come well enough.

You can start now. Live like the retro 80s.