 ANIMAL CROSSING:
REVIEW
The
following is a transcript of a recording that
came into my possession following a series of
events I am not willing to explain. But then, it
was a crazy time in my life and I did a lot of
things I'm not completely proud of. To cut a long
story short, I had devoted that particular year
of my pubescence to experimenting with my
sexuality and a full account of the things I saw
and did would make unpleasant reading, be
thoroughly embarrassing for myself and would
place me in violation of several non-disclosure
agreements I signed with numerous powerful public
figures.
Anyway,
I received the recording from a hairy man in
vinyl stockings who turned out to be a
high-profile member of one of the world's big
secret services. Apparently it had been
circulating the spy networks as a piece of office
entertainment, haunting forwarded emails on the
computers of receptionists and data entry clerks
from MI6 to the Pentagon. All anyone seems to
know (or wants to admit) about the tape is that
it is a voice recording made by some kind of
covert operative on assignment to investigate the
headquarters of a suspect organisation.
The
transcript in full now follows.
[
begin recording ]
-is
thing on? Oh, yes. Agent ####### reporting. This
tape will serve as an audio account of my
mission's progress. For reference purposes, I am
required to repeat that the purpose of the
mission is to infiltrate a gated community of
what is considered a suspect organisation and
investigate for possible links to international
terrorism. As I make this report, I have secured
a hold-out position a few hundred yards away from
the organisation's camp. It's a beautiful part of
the country. I mean... REALLY beautiful. Almost
to the point that it kind of creeps me out. The
rolling hills, the scattered trees, the deep blue
colouring of the water, the perfect geometric
shapes in the grass - it all kind of points to...
stylisation. I don't know how else to describe
it.
With
my binoculars I can see some of the members of
the community now, going about their daily
business. The exact nature of that business is
unclear. All they seem to do is spend most of the
day standing rigidly in place in front of their
crude hut-like dwellings. When they do move, all
they do is meander aimlessly around with no
apparent direction. But I'm definitely in the
right place. I recognise the uniform appearance
of the residents from the dossier I was given.
Right
now I'm working on a theory that this is some
kind of camp where small children or midgets are
made to wear oversized animal costumes, such as
those worn at theme parks. I'm assuming this is
part of some indoctrination process or hazing
ritual. Tomorrow I will begin my infiltration
attempt.
[
end recording ]
[
begin recording ]
Day
two. Okay, I'm pretty scared. Not that I perceive
any danger, but... it's just been frightening in
a way I can't quite explain. Creepy, I suppose.
Yeah. A general feeling of creepiness that rises
the more I investigate the town.
Even
though I had endeavoured to fit in by having my
legs surgically removed from the knees down and
inflating my head to eight times its previous
size, I was expecting a certain amount of
resistance and hostility from the town's
denizens. But it was spooky how welcoming they
were, as if I was expected. Not only was I
expected, but one of the little huts had been
arranged for my arrival. No furniture was
provided, however, except for a stereo and a
crate, so I spent my first night shivering on the
cold stone floor to the sound of jaunty
synthesized music and woke with severe pain in my
joints.
The
strangest thing was when I was first entering the
town, and I asked one of the little animal
costume-wearing children/midgets what the town
was called. In response, he asked me "what
would you like it to be called?" After a
moment's thought, I impishly said
"Assfuckville". And now all the
townsfolk refer to their community as
Assfuckville, even ones who could not possibly
have had time to be informed of the new name. I
am extremely confused.
I
will now conclude today's report and continue my
investigations.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
 |
I am
beginning to understand the nature of
this society. It seems to bear all the
hallmarks of a cult. Today I was
introduced to the leader, a creature in a
raccoon suit, who informed me that I owed
him a substantial sum of money for the
house I had assumed was a gift. Not
wishing to anger the locals until my
position was firm, I agreed that 20,000
units of the local currency was a very
reasonable sum for the wretched little
hovel, and quickly left. |
Strangely, while the raccoon
creature who operates the town's all-purpose shop
will only deal in currency, most of the other
inhabitants use a bartering system of economics.
Each of the animal-things operate small hovels
like my own, and exchange wallpaper, carpets and
various items of furniture for other
accoutrements, although the actual value of the
objects being exchanged seems to be completely
arbitrary. I was invited to take a look inside
the home of a chicken woman, and found the place
to be full of impractical furniture that the
owner had no apparent use for. There was a
refrigerator and a stove, but neither could be
opened, and they were not plugged into any
electricity or gas supplies. There was no bed, no
toilet, nothing that might indicate normal human
needs. I made my excuses and immediately repaired
to the town river, by which I have been fishing
non-stop in order to repay my debt.
I've
also never seen any of the town population eat a
meal, or indeed, anything. And yet they surely
must at some point.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
In
a previous report I mentioned how Assfuckville
appeared to be completely stylised. This was
probably a poor choice of words. A better
description would be 'artificial'. Everything
seems so... unreal, manufactured almost, like the
architects of this place took an extremely
limited representation of the supposed ideal town
and attempted to model their community around it.
I have already touched upon the bizarre habits of
the townspeople, their homes, and their want for
furniture and clothes that seems to be their only
motivation or desire. It's like they have a vague
understanding of a human lifestyle without
knowing the exact details. And then there is the
museum, if you can call it that; despite its
grand architecture, it has absolutely no exhibits
at all. Exploring the place is a deeply
disturbing experience, akin to visiting a ghost
town, where the silence roars loudly in your
ears.
It's
not just the people or the buildings. It's
everything around me. The fish in the river and
the ocean will dart straight onto my hook the
instant I drop it in front of them, like robots,
and can remain outside water for indefinite
amounts of time without suffocating. And then
there are the fruit trees. On each one of them,
exactly three prime examples of the fruit in
question appear to have been stuck on the outside
of the main clusters of leaves, unattached to any
of the branches and easily shaken off. Every
morning, they're there again. I am certain there
must be a team of workmen coming around during
the night to replace dislodged fruit and bury
fossils all around in random places, for reasons
unknown.
I
must sign off now. One of the animal people is
standing outside my house, shuffling back and
forth as if desperate for the toilet. I need to
close all the curtains and sit in the dark for a
little while.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
Oh
god, oh jesus fuck. I don't even know where to
begin. They aren't costumes. I don't know what
the hell they are. Some kind of godforsaken
freaks is what they are. My stomach feels raw
from vomiting.
Okay.
Get it together. Deep breaths, like they showed
me at the academy. Okay, right. I'll try to
explain what I saw.
I
had just deposited some more currency to pay off
the house - those eager fish and clandestine
fruits seem to go for a hell of a lot - when I
saw what appeared to be some kind of ritual going
on between two of the townsfolk - the chicken I
interacted with earlier, and a pig who seems to
be the only person who owns a toilet, albeit
unobscured in the corner of their living room.
They were shuffling around each other tunelessly
whistling an improvised song composed of
randomly-chosen notes sung in an unvarying
rhythm. Occasionally they would pause to link
hands and bow cheerfully towards each other.
After which, one of several things would happen -
they would continue whistling, or one of them
would suddenly be wearing a copy of the other
one's shirt, or they would go away suddenly
offended and stomp around in exaggerated displays
of fury or dismay (a misguided attempt to emulate
human social interaction, perhaps?).
Anyway,
while they were distracted I took the opportunity
to try and get a closer look at their outfits, to
see if I could find a seam or fastener. I
couldn't. The more I looked, the more convinced I
became that these monsters were not human beings
in costume, but rather obscene parodies of
nature, a twisted and misshapen representation of
an anthropomorphic animal. What is this? Genetic
engineering? Cloning? I feel sick. I have to get
out of here. I am aborting the mission and
retreating as of tomorrow.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
I
can't get out.
Come
to think of it, I can't quite remember how I got
in in the first place, but I certainly can't get
out now. The entire town is surrounded by tall
cliffs, except to the north where a picket fence
and a train track blocks the way.
| I tried
to get on board one of the trains that go
through the town's only station, but I
was turned away because I didn't own a
memory card. It sounds insane, but it
honestly seemed like a perfectly rational
reason at the time. I don't even know
what a memory card is. I tried building a
raft to escape via the ocean, but
whenever I chopped down a tree, the trunk
instantly dissolved into thin air the
instant it hit the ground. I'm afraid I
may be going mad. |
 |
I'm afraid... I think... I think
I'm going to go and do some more fishing now.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
There
are about fifteen of the monsters in total.
However, there only seem to be around six unique
personalities between them. Groups of two or
three will say, verbatim, the exact same things
as each other. I'm working on a theory that this
is some kind of opposite of a 'gestalt' entity.
Rather than there being several individuals
making up a single entity, we're looking at a
single entity spread out over several
individuals. Or maybe this is just another tactic
to drive me insane.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
Today
I finished paying off my debt. The little part of
me that still feels hope thought, for one
glorious instant, that perhaps this would be it.
Perhaps the architects of this nightmare would
let me leave, now that I had met my
responsibilities. But that wasn't the end. Not by
a long shot. By the time I got home from paying
the deposit, that fucking raccoon had already
built an extension on my house and left behind a
bill for eight times my previous debt.
The
weird thing is, I wasn't as shattered as I should
have been. It was almost... pleasing. I know that
I am a prisoner of some ineffable horror, but
when I thought I would be able to leave, there
was a feeling... I can only describe it as
'regret'. It's what they want, I know, and I
should resist it, but all I want to do now is go
fishing.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
I
don't have much tape left. I'd better make this
count.
When
I was ten years old, my little sister had a huge
collection of beanie babies. She had the cow, the
cat, the gorilla, the panda, yes, even the
chicken and the pig. She loved them so much. She
gave them all trite little names, made all sorts
of homes and accessories for them.
I
was ten years old. I didn't know much. But I knew
two things. I knew I wanted the Space Lazar
Ultratron 8000 Action Figure. And I knew that
beanie baby collections could go for a large
amount of money at the time.
So
I stole her beanie babies, that she loved so
much. And I sold them. God help me, I sold them
on eBay to some middle-aged guy in child-molester
glasses. I took his money and I used it to buy a
Space Lazar Ultratron 8000 Action Figure. And I
hated it. It sat there in my room and stared at
me all day, a reminder of my guilt.
My
sister ran away after that. My parents were
hysterical. They went into such a decline that I
had to identify the body when they scraped my
sister up from the middle of the interstate.
I've
never told anyone that. But I know where I am
now. I am in purgatory. But it's not just any
purgatory. It's my own personal purgatory. Oh
god, oh god, oh god, I should have realised.
We've lost so many good people to that damn place
and I just blundered right in. And now I can
never leave.
[end
recording]
[begin
recording]
i
got a new end table today
it
will go nicely with my carpet
[end
recording]
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