Can’t you almost feel the soil between your fingers?
Yeah, that’s right. I love a farming game, and I’m not ashamed of it. It brightens up my days.
It also gives me hope for my career as a farmer.
I can’t wait for the day that I can grow crops, raise livestock, and mine my own land. It will allow me to create artisan goods that I can then sell at my roadside stand and command premium prices. Serious prices. Check it out.
Muffins are fucking easy to make, and that isn’t even a really nice coal and iron bracelet. I’ll be rich!
You just find the duct tape, paint, and other shit in trunks and tool boxes, or somebody gives it to you for selling them a bunch of your overpriced junk. You then sell it for fifty times what it’s worth. It’s fucking insane in the membrane.
People always ask me why I would want to be a farmer. I usually just stare back at them in disbelief and show them my garden.
See that in the top right corner? Diamonds and gold, bitches. Farm on.
In case you need it translated, I’ll give you a little glimpse at what we’re talking about here.
Yeah, I really can sell a three pack of olives for $82. Half a cacao pod for $86? All fucking day, buddy.
I’m probably going to need a greenhouse for some of this stuff, only because I think that some of it might need longer than the 45 day growing season that we have, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll be able to afford one after I sell a bunch of strawberries at $50 a piece. Booyah, motherfuckers. Getting paid like Tyson. I’m going to be making it rain at the Pro Hardware when I’m picking up the stakes for my over abundant tomato plants.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just in it for the money; that’s just a bonus. I’m also in it for the satisfaction of seeing an odd array of people happy after shopping in my town. They are just strolling about and buying locally sourced products in a quaint setting; it just warms my heart.
If you really go out of your way to help them, they will reward you with things that are sometimes priceless. Like a bolt.
Woo hoo! Now I can finish upgrading my barn. Thanks, pretty lady.
Another great thing about farming is how willing the local kids are to help you succeed. Take Tom for instance.
What I want are some marker stakes, Tom. Can you get me some? Of course you can’t, you simple freak.
He will run and find you all kinds of things. Not the things you want the most, but for nine diamonds a day, he sure makes your life easier.
Doesn’t he look like he should be playing Dueling Banjos?
I know that $1087 looks like a lot of money for nine lollipops, but I can turn them around easily for over three grand. It’s all organic sugar and colouring.
Anyhow, as fun as Hay Day is for me, the best part is that my sister is in my neighbourhood too. So is Alice, but she never talks to us in chat, so we think that she’s an asshole. We love to help each other out, and it’s really nice to be able to shoot the shit with her when we end up on at the same time.
When I got home at Easter, our other sister and Mrs. Birdman, in a fit of jealousy, started calling us farm nerds, because we were doing some insider trading at the table. They called themselves Rebel Nerds, obviously because they were upset at not being invited to our neighbourhood, and then they teased us relentlessly.
It was like water off a duck’s back with us, as we are emotionally secure in our Hay Day bliss, but I did secretly want to hear them beg to be let in.
On Easter morning, after hearing about how the rebel nerds were all chummy and shit, I sent an Easter card to celebrate the death walk of old Jebus.
That sealed it for us being the coolest nerd team in the family, and it also made us remember to feed our cows.
P.S. If you’re active on Hay Day and like the derby, come and look us up. Here’s where to find us.