It’s a humble tasking, but the entire process is deeply satisfying. The tutorial for Farming Simulator 22 has you harvest and sell grain. My dream had turned to shit, but that was fine – the seeds of my next grand venture were already sown, and I’d need the fertiliser. I’d witnessed first-hand how difficult Farming Simulator 22 could be, and my skills with a combine harvester confirmed that having other animals rely on me was a no-go. I once envisioned myself as a cattle-raising magnate, but my dreams had changed. Now that I’ve picked an easier difficulty, the game throws me a lifeline – a tutorial that teaches me the basics of Farming Simulator 22. I appear in the same field, except this time I’m delighted to see that the area now belongs to me, and I appear to have Thanos-snapped Leroy Wilson out of existence. Realising the error of my ways, I make a new save file – meticulously recreating my sullen (and now criminal) cowboy character and getting down to business. A city-slicker like me? Picking medium difficulty? Rule one of farming – if you can literally turn down a difficulty setting, do so. In a moment of post-home invasion clarity, I realise where I’ve gone wrong. I launch a duffelbag – probably full of stupid sorghum – into one particularly muddy-looking field and cease my paltry home invasion, wondering if there’s any sort of law enforcement in this game. He doesn’t seem to be around, so I walk into his basement and petulantly chuck his belongings on the floor. He has everything I want in life: a fancy red barn, and fields of prosperous veg. Right off the bat, I despise Leroy Wilson. I return to the lonely field of sorghum I started in, and notice it’s owned by a man called Leroy Wilson. It’s a bit too much like 28 Days Later for me, though at least I’ve traded in Cillian Murphy’s hospital gown for more dignified country attire – a cowboy hat and duster.įarming Simulator 22. Meanwhile, I feel myself growing steadily unsettled – I haven’t seen a single living human, every building is inaccessible, and it’s weirdly quiet. Feeling a little like Eric Andre, I hammer against door after door that refuses budge. I come across a few buildings – mostly diners, gas stations and supermarkets – but none of them can be entered. Without any land – or any notion of what to do – I began wandering the countryside of small town America. In a moment of agricultural hubris I had picked medium difficulty, and I was plonked into the middle of a field like a yokel Terminator. Despite that, I remained impervious to the allure of Farming Simulator – and it was time that changed.Īs I made my first tentative steps into Farming Simulator 22, I realised that change wouldn’t be coming any time soon. I’m no stranger to gaming’s romanticised approach to the rustic – I’ve spent more time in Stardew Valley than I care to admit, and – like so many others – the island living of Animal Crossing carried me through the early days of our first lockdown. Jaded with the launch of Battlefield 2042 and looking to try something new, I felt compelled to understand what brought over a million players to greener pastures. Last month, I caught wind of the hype surrounding Farming Simulator 22 – it’s already sold 1.5million copies, and in November it attracted more players than a freshly-launched Battlefield 2042.
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