#heartedness

Looking back at Dungeons & Dragons, the game prided itself on incorporating everything that shapes an ideal fantasy experience… even its unsavory qualities. On one hand, that’s part of why it became such a staple in pop culture. On the other hand, I found it hard to overlook said qualities. You don’t truly love something enough if you don’t have the heart to see its flaws where they lay. That’s what I think, at least.

Even as a child, it didn’t surprise me to see orcs depicted with the same flavor of inhumanity as many racial stereotypes you’d find on Earth. Couple that with the artistic choices of exaggerated features and tribalist imagery, and you’ve got a recipe for one of the most controversial figures in the genre. None of it went over my head. Rather, it gave me the idea to explore these characters beyond the page.

I wasn’t convinced by this painting of orcs as club-swinging, bloodlust-driven brutes. When it seemed like their purpose was to be beaten by medieval-esque heroes, it didn’t sit right with me. I felt like there was something more to orcs. One-dimensional portrayals held no weight, not as long as I could see the humanity in them.

On top of that, outside influences stoked these feelings further. I owned some movies about a certain green-skinned, swamp-dwelling man on DVD. Said man reminded me of the tusk-sporting people I connected to. That alone did more than enough convincing without having to involve orcs. Orcs and the ogres of Dreamwork’s Shrek franchise were so alike in their treatment that it solidified my belief. These books and games had it all wrong. Of course, I couldn’t tell the publishers that as a fourth grader. It’d be a pointless endeavor. Even so, I can say with confidence that orcs and I go way back.

When you grow up in a place that’s as tumultuous as many fantasy settings against anyone who is “outside the norm”, you start to connect those dots at a young age. It’s unfortunate, but I saw the good in it as well. I saw that I had enough mind to see people as people, fictional or otherwise, despite my circumstances. Can’t say the same for the kinds of folks I come across in the Southeast.

Amidst my kinship towards orcs, guilt would consume me whenever I was put in a position to confront them. Plenty of players know the deal. In some combat scenarios, they must go out of their way to fight an orc hoard in order to progress, but in a metaphorical sense, all I knew was the opposite: I was the orc standing before the hero. I was the one who didn’t belong, who got in the way by simply existing.

Defeating them wasn’t my goal.

Communing with them was.

I find it ironic that I feel closer to orcs than I do with any popular race, given that I have a few elven fictomeres. I see a lot of myself in orcs and how they are treated. This is because of the marginalization I experience in this world, largely in context to my racial identity but I can see where it overlaps with other experiences as well. I can’t say the same about most depictions of elvenkind, however.

Even curiouser, I used to hate most depictions of elvenkind. These feelings developed for two reasons:

Older fantasy media had a nasty habit of putting unnecessary emphasis on the contrasts between races like elves and races like orcs. It was the fair, intelligent and good-natured folk versus the barbaric, senseless and war-mongering folk. Knowing what I touched on earlier about orcs and marginalization, you can see why I wasn’t too fond of how fantasy media framed elves. God forbid if they did it while implying that elves are seen as “superior” to other races. I wonder where I’ve heard that notion before!

I didn’t know it yet as a child, but I am a black elf myself. This past hatred was also a rejection of the self. I rarely ever saw elves like me. Name any eurocentric beauty standard you can think of, and I guarantee it’ll be somewhere in the description of an elven character. Even in one of my own sources (World of Warcraft), Blizzard’s elves are either pale and blonde-haired or lean heavier in the imagination department (ex: Night Elves). Isolation from your own kind can be heavy, even when you aren’t aware that you belong yet.

All in all, it brought me back to that place where these settings felt no different than the world around me. To this day, I still find myself annoyed by older entries in fantasy literature for how orcs are depicted in contrast to others. It’s to be expected, but that doesn’t make it any less grating to read.

One such case is whenever I read Tolkien’s works. Granted, I can tolerate their behavior in The Hobbit, or There and Back Again. Luckily, they’re more like ogres in fairy tales than the off-putting tribalist caricatures I’m used to. I can’t say the same about how Dungeons & Dragons treated its orcs in the beginning, though.

Of the hearttypes that I have, very few of them have been with me for this long. Of course, I didn’t have a word for it as an elementary schooler but I finally did when I awakened. The only hearttype that have been around as long as orcs are werewolves, and that’s largely because of my own experience with ailuranthropy. Besides that, there’s Kovu. The reasons behind my heartedness towards him are far too personal for me to convey here, but I can confirm that I’ve resonated with him since my childhood too.

Yet, of those three, I still see my orc hearttype as the most complex. But what of kobolds?

To avoid confusion, I must specify that my heartedness is towards the kobolds of Dungeons & Dragons. I don’t experience heartedness towards kobolds on a general basis. If I went into detail about the many ways in which fictional kobolds have branched off from their folkloric counterparts in Germany, I’d be going on a massive tangent.

But, I digress. There’s still a question left to be answered: how did I find resonance in Dungeons & Dragons’s kobolds?

My heartedness towards kobolds isn’t as complicated as my case towards orcs, thankfully. When I think of kobolds, I think of community. I think this because when it comes to kobolds, they have a “strength in numbers” sort of culture that many enemy races exhibit. It’s not the first thing that a lot of players would say, I’ll tell you that much.

Now, the obvious explanation behind this behavior would be to accommodate the physical disadvantages of fighting on their own.

In my opinion, the best explanation lies in Volo’s Guide to Monsters:

“Kobolds are often dismissed as cowardly, foolish, and weak, but these little reptilian creatures actually have a strong social structure that stresses devotion to the tribe, are clever with their hands, and viciously work together in order to overcome their physical limitations.”

While it’s accurate to point out those limitations, I love how this excerpt describes kobolds. Not only is there the implication that kobolds actively look out for each other, it is flat-out stated that kobolds are fiercely devoted their people. This is why community comes to mind, which is something that I admire so much about D&D’s least respected “enemies”.

It’s uncommon for groups of “enemy” races to be seen as communities. If anything, they are treated as hostile gangs or thieving miscreants. Notably, they usually have a pecking order in combat encounters. Traveling parties are expected to pick off the little guys first and deal with the big bad last. We all know the deal.

A good example of this are bugbears and goblins. Technically, bugbears are also goblinfolk in Dungeons & Dragons; yet, they are rarely ever depicted as equals to their goblin companions. Instead, bugbears’ relationship to other goblins is similar to the typical relationship that’s depicted between kobolds and dragons: a massive master and their small, scrambling minions.

When exploring my draconity, I never could relate to the idea of having kobolds at my beck and call. I deeply respect the kobolds of my source. The thought of tearing these communities apart just to have a few underlings made my stomach convulse. Furthermore, kobolds are no different than dragonborns, draconians and lizardfolk to me. The point being that their size and portrayals aren’t excuses to deny them their personhood.

If you treat a dragonborn as you would a human or an elf, why not do the same towards a kobold?

Does the hardiness of a mountain dwarf trump the cleverness of a kobold? If I weighed either concept on a scale, they’d balance out.

Yet, I’d wager that the dwarf gains more respect than the kobold because the kobold lacks an overtly human appearance. The closest thing they have to it is their anthropomorphic physiology. Fantasy dwarves are also more “familiar”, what with their background as both playable characters and dependable allies. Kobolds, however, are almost always combatants that block one’s path. In short, anthropocentrism is no stranger to speculative fiction. Many a fictional world is rich with nonhuman people and their societies, but that doesn’t mean the focus will ever turn away from humans and those that favor them.

Despite my resonance with kobolds having such simple roots, it also shares some similarities with my feelings towards orcs.

Much of my heartedness revolves around the fact that I too belong to a heavily ostracized, demonized community and have been underestimated for things that I can’t change.

I could never see these groups as my “enemies”, not as campaigns and stories would want me to. Seeing how this world treats me and my people, I hold orcs and kobolds in high regards. The best way I can describe this type of heartedness is solidarity.

I understand their plight. I support their resolve. I share their desire to live above all else.

In between quests from Sun Haven’s locals, meetings with the realm’s draconic protector Elios, and gaining access to neighboring regions, you as the player are encouraged to forage, farm, fish and mine to your heart’s content.

Now, I’m not much of a “cozy game” kind of beast. A few years back, I played Stardew Valley at the start of the pandemic… and I wasn’t too crazy about it. Don’t get me wrong: I still built up relationships with the townsfolk and curated my farm to my liking, but much of it also felt lacking. I eventually fell out of it as I do with most cozy games that are recommended to me, and aren’t the ones I personally look into.

One thing I don’t like within these games are the stamina systems. It breaks my immersion. I hated finding out that I was critically low after a good session of fishing or tending to my farm. Long story short, it became an obstacle that hindered my interest in progressing sometimes. When I happened across Sun Haven on Steam, what ironically pulled me in wasn’t the overt fantasy aesthetic or its beautifully designed pixel art; it was the fact that it didn’t have this system. Of course, there’s the curfew you need to meet before 12 A.M., but other than that it’s manageable as long as you don’t reach low HP during the day. The only way you do that is if you suck at fighting monsters.

Before making my purchase, I watched some gameplay of Sun Haven and got a feel for its content. The mechanics looked simple. The visuals were better than other farm sims I’ve played, at least in my opinion. Being the lore-hound that I am, the worldbuilding within Sun Haven caught interest since it seemed to be a more story-forward game than past games I’ve played. This isn’t to say all farm sims are slow in the story department, but Sun Haven certainly gears its main plot to the forefront more than I expected it to (especially since their marketing heavily banks on the multiplayer aspect of the game).

I had seen my fill and decided to buy it. I didn’t realize at the time that this game would wind up meaning a whole lot more to me in the long run.

Then again, no one really expects these things to happen.

Another Hearthome in the Making

While hearthomes can be anything for anyone, it tracks that most of my heartedness is expressed towards fictional settings. Many of my hearthomes are relevant to my fictomere, allowing me to feel connected with my source(s) even more.

The most notable of which is Candlekeep, a fictional library-fortress nestled along the Sword Coat of Faerûn. It is a location within the Dungeons and Dragons setting, The Forgotten Realms, and is also the primary setting for the campaign, Candlekeep Mysteries.

However, not all of them are sources that I recall being from. Sun Haven is one of them. I don’t have any exomemories, parallel lives, past lives or any general ties to existence towards Sun Haven. Regardless, I am in tune with this fictional town.

I do my best to provide for my neighbors. Unlike with other farm sims, I don’t interact with them out of boredom or needing something to do. One could say I’ve grown quite fond of various townsfolk of Sun Haven. There’s Emmett, the poor workaholic who’s akin to Larry from The Amazing World of Gumball— in the sense that he’s the cashier of quite literally every store. He’s working off a debt, he says, but what debt did he amass? Who knows…

There’s Pod, a precocious little boy who just wants to brighten his mom’s day as she battles through her heart condition. I remember a quest where he asked me to make spaghetti for her because it was her favorite meal. Turns out: Kara, Pod’s mom, doesn’t have spaghetti as a favorite food. It’s POD’S favorite food that his mom makes, and he just assumed she loved it too. Either way, Kara appreciated the gesture and thanked Pod for his consideration.

Then, there’s Amanda, the town librarian who… honestly, Amanda’s kind of a dick towards you at first. I’ve become fond of her prissy attitude, but that won’t be a given for everyone who plays.

The point is: I’ve come to love the NPCs of the game, and that’s not even touching on the marriage candidates! I still have yet to explore other regions too, so that’s just covering the surface of people I’ve met thus far.

While growing closer with the townsfolk, I’ve also appreciated the mundanity of magic, monsters and the like within Sun Haven. It’s not the first game to introduce a casual fantasy setting by any means, but I’m glad to actually be a part of it outside a human perspective.

There’s several races to choose from before starting the game: Humans, playing up the role of the “ambitious and resourceful” jack-of-all trades as they’re usually given; Amari, animal-folk whose origin is mythicized around the natural world– particularly the primal spirits that they honor; Angels, winged celestial folk who oversee the world and chronicle its histories; Demons, people of darkness who are driven by a lust for power (totally not predictable when compared to the “well-to-do” angels); Elementals, the oldest race in existence and are exactly what you’d assume any elemental in fantasy to be; Elves, another ancient race whose culture focuses on the flow of life energy through nature itself; and Nagas, who prefer to conduct their societies underground and away from prying eyes.

Although I’m not a demon myself, I went with the Demon race since some of the race’s traits resembled traits from my draconic self. I decided to make my avatar resemble my being as a draconic faun. That choice didn’t come without its setbacks. I wasn’t too fond of the fact that one of the first NPCs I met on my way to Sun Haven, a marriage candidate no less, thought talking about her village’s fear and ignorance towards demons was the perfect conversation starter. At the very least, she insisted that their mindset was wrong (it was) but still, I could’ve went without that.

Regardless, I do appreciate the level of detail that Pixel Sprout Studios (the development team and publishers of the game) give to Sun Haven and its people. Aside from the awkward start, entering Sun Haven was pleasant. Nothing shocking, given that these games are completely designed around invoking warm, happy feelings in their players.

That said, I wouldn’t word my feelings towards Sun Haven that way. “Cozy” can be the easy way of saying it, sure. If anything, Sun Haven feels more familiar to me than it does cozy. It’s like returning to your hometown while knowing it’s not exactly the most darling place in the world. It needs work. Places have either gone underfunded or have been entirely ran into the ground. Even you need to get back up, pat yourself off and keep on going as you usually do. It’s meant to reflect a fresh start for the player, who recently left humdrum life in the Great City. Yet, you’re just returning to even more routine and humdrum living in a more rural setting. Not much else is new, right?

The people are keeping it alive, and that’s all that counts. Being the oh-so-special farmer hero doesn’t resonate with me as I genuinely find Sun Haven to be a place with lovely people that I want to help. Perhaps, I’m more biased towards Sun Haven’s heavier emphasis on the fantasy aspect of this genre, but something about this familiarity stirred me into returning to the game more and more than I ever did with Stardew Valley, Coral Island, Ooblets and other farm sims I’ve given a chance.

Sun Haven is still your typical farm sim, but I only speak on it this way because it strikes a chord in me. I would chalk it up to just personal taste, had it not been for the fact that it particularly struck a chord in me as an alterhuman. It’s as if facets of my alterhumanity are being stimulated each time that I play Sun Haven, feeling more and more in tune with myself with each session.

It is home, but it is also so much more.

“That Dragon’s Just Like Me!”, or My Fictionhood and Sun Haven

One of the key events that happens within Sun Haven is being taken to Dragon’s Roost and meeting the guardian of the realm, Elios. He is the lovely, leonine dragon that you currently see as my profile picture. It’s a rare instance where I see beings in fiction that actually reflect me or my species in some way, and meeting Elios was one of them.

I recall rushing to my blog and announcing in total species envy that Elios looks exactly how I look as a Gold Dragonne, just with way more fur and not nearly enough scales. I loved each instance in which I got to climb Dragon’s Roost to see him, feeling this immense kinship to the sun dragon. We were both leonine in our features, both draconic in species, both being connected to the sun, and both being centered within fantasy contexts. In the case of the latter, he was the guardian of an entire fantasy realm whereas I am the concept of the fantasy genre (I’ll get into that later).

Suffice to say, there was a lot that I had in common with Elios. Being around him brought me immense joy.

I think my favorite moment had to have been when, during a main quest later down the line, he had told the player that if he didn’t know any better— he would’ve seen the makings of a powerful, young dragon before him. Of course, this refers more to the general player character than me specifically, but it touched my heart beyond words.

The reason why I bring this up in context to my fictionhood is because my entire draconity is based in fictionhood. I am a fictional dragon. My place of origin thrives off of storytelling in order to exist. I may not be from Sun Haven, but Sun Haven does speak to my fictomere.

Sure, there is wonder and whimsy to living in a fantasy realm but I much prefer settings where all the swords and sorcery is a part of the norm. Not just epic tales and prophecies of destiny, y’know?

Sun Haven still has that, but it is very avoidable. You can churn out a lot of time by just steadily building your farm, turning profits through fishing and foraging, building relationships with the townfolks and exploring the occasional side story after it’s triggered at random. The “impeding doom” along the way doesn’t really grab your attention until you need a change of pace.

Curiously enough, Pixel Sprout Studios did release a bullet-hell roguelike called Sun Down Survivors which mirrors Sun Haven. It takes place in an alternate timeline in which the player character of Sun Haven never left the Great City. With nobody presumably putting a stop to Dynus, the Dragon of the Moon and the main antagonist of Sun Haven’s main storyline, the whole world went to shit. Now, those who survived must put a stop to him. No more coziness for you!

It’s quite an ambitious project, seeing that it released in the same year as Sun Haven. I’d be invested if it wasn’t for the fact that Sun Down Survivors looks absolutely bare bones in comparison. I don’t typically judge a book by its cover, but going off of the reviews for it, this is the one time my intuition may be accurate. I’m better off getting my combat fix by wandering too far into Sun Haven’s wildernesses with nothing but a copper sword, some food and the intent to live out of spite.

I still like the idea of juxtaposing a would-be hopeful, idealistic cozy farm sim with a sister title that reflects the actual importance of your role if not fulfilled. It sucks that it didn’t garner as much detail or attention, but I digress. I’m side-tracking myself from actually discussing how this relates to my fictionhood. Apologies.

On that note, it’s interesting to me how intertwined I feel with a place that I’m not from. It’s similar to how I regard Splatsville and the Splatlands of Splatoon 3. I’m not an inkfish (meaning inkling or octoling), yet the cultures, the values and the overall theming around Splatoon makes me appreciate life a little more each day. With Sun Haven, this game invites me to find a little wonder in everyday life. There’s plenty of fantastical things living alongside the residents of Sun Haven and their neighboring realms. Yet, the world still turns. Life goes on.

Mundanity may look different to everyone, and it certainly looks different compared to the world we actually live in, but there’s beauty within it that’s worth appreciating. There’s always cars passing by that you watch from a distance and names that you remember, forgetting the faces that belong to them.

But what of that historic house downtown, the one that’s been around for over a hundred years?

What of that old friend who pops in one day and wants to catch up?

How about that parade or fair that happens each season, bustling to the brim with exciting people?

I wanted that in a fantasy world, and I got it.

It’s all I could ask for, really. Being both a fictionfolk whose experiences predominantly exist within swords and sorcery, while embodying this same genre, I wanted that familiar feeling within my own being. That isn’t to say all other sims don’t have those qualities too, but I feel like Sun Haven commits to it more with its weird mix of both medieval fantasy and urban fantasy elements. In a way, that’s perfect for me as a being from Dungeons and Dragons since I often see a mix-n-match of fantasy sub-genres all across my source. It’s no wonder why Sun Haven fit in perfectly with me.

I tend to my crops, feed my cows, fight an annoying seasonal boss that spawns weeds all over my farm if I don’t beat him a jump-roping contest, and I risk my life by exploring forests full of pepper scorpions who’re above my combat level. Don’t forget: Summer’s coming up, and if I don’t turn off seasonal effects, all of my crops will burn to a crisp!

That’s just life. All sorts of wild and weird things can happen in life within this world, as it does in Sun Haven. It’s just under much different contexts. That said, Sun Haven draws out those aspects of my fictomere that truly feel in-tune with living in a fantasy realm’s reality as opposed to this one.

Embarking on a periless quest like I do in Dragon’s Dogma 2 or any Elder Scrolls game is all well and good, but at the end of the day, I’ve got mouths to feed and a home to get to by 11 P.M. I just also happen to have the trust of Elios to uphold. That’s the reality where I’m best represented.

That’s the reality where I feel the most like myself.

Being the Concept of Fantasy While Interacting with My Own Media

That brings me to the final topic of interest between me and Sun Haven. I will preface this by saying that I don’t utilize the label, otherkin, or any terms related to it as much as I used to. I only do so unless I have to for the sake of convenience, as I know the majority of the community is not familiar with fractic identity and its own terminologies.

In context to this section, I will talk about my most prominent concept fracture. In other words, I will talk about my conceptkinity as someone who is the concept of Fantasy. Yes, as in the Fantasy genre across media.

For me, it’s not specific to any kind of media. Books, films, television, video games, you name it. If it’s fantasy, it is me. I am Fantasy, period. When playing Sun Haven, I did not expect it to invoke such strong feelings within this fracture (or kintype) of mine because I regularly play a lot of fantasy-based games. Whether it be action-adventure RPGS, soulslikes, visual novels, etc., that’s just the bulk of the games that I play. Yet, Sun Haven is one of the few where the very embodiment of my being surfaces.

In all honesty, I’m still figuring out why that may be as I’m chipping away at Sun Haven’s main storyline while juggling my responsibilities as a farmer. From what I suspect so far, I think this occurs because it blends together two lived realities that I’m familiar with through my being. I physically live within a world of earthen mundanity, yet I also belong to worlds of fictional and fantastical quality as an alterhuman. Being the concept of fantasy itself, I see elements of these experiences trickled throughout Sun Haven and am given peace in a way.

I am not abandoning the world that I currently know of and experience being in, yet I am also where I belong as a concept. It’s not exactly a “right place, right time” kind of feeling, but the feeling that I’m given through Sun Haven seems to extend an olive branch between the worlds that I know… if that makes any sense. If not, just know that I’m happy being able to incorporate what I experience here into my being as Fantasy without straying too far from either experience.

There’s always a little bit of me that stirs when I play games that are aesthetically and narratively based around my being. It lights a fire within me that says: “Yes. This is who I am. This may not be my story, but I am incomplete without it.” Why? Well, I’ll put it this way. One may not identify themselves by the bones in their body, or the blood in their veins, but they’re still a part of you, are they not?

They’re what gives you structure as an individual. That is how I view media within my being. I may not be from Earthsea, and I may not experience any heartedness towards Dragon Quest, but these stories are still me. There would be no me without them.

What I’ve discussed here are also potential reasons why Sun Haven stands apart from other media for me, but I still need to make sense of it as I progress through the game. Perhaps, when I eventually find out what Dynus’s deal is, I can return to this reflection and make my peace with this mystery I’ve yet to solve.

I suppose one could say Sun Haven left me with a journey of my own to embark on as I juggle through life.

Conclusion

The funny thing about being fictionfolk is that there’ll be moments where I interact with fiction and assume that it won’t hold much relevance to me based on the current state of my fictionhood. Yet, once in a blue moon, there’ll also be fictional media that knocks me off my feet in turns of how relevant it feels towards my being.

To have that same effect on my conception, as I’m also a genre of fiction, is truly impressive. It’s especially impressive in Sun Haven’s case since it’s a part of a genre that I don’t particularly care for (cozy games), save for a few exceptions.