About a third of the way through Mineko's Night Market, a young boy dressed as a fish says to his octopus-chopping father, "What? I just thought sending the local errand kid on missions was how people acquired stuff on this island." To many, this will simply be a comic jibe at what you, the aforementioned local errand kid, have been doing for the last eight hours or so. After moving to this rural backwater with your dad in search of a better life, you quickly realise that no one in this town ever gets off their arse to get anything done.
Instead, it's up to you, Mineko, to fulfil every last one of their desires, whether it's collecting 50 bits of wood so they can construct a frame for their new house (before asking you for 50 bits of paper to give it some flimsy-looking walls), buying and delivering them a sports drink they could have easily got themselves from the local shop, or crafting a flower box for them because, well, they asked you to. As I said, industry isn't exactly their strong suit here, and you'd be forgiven for wondering how any of them functioned as human beings before you arrived.
But this line of dialogue also strikes right at the heart of what a joyless experience Mineko's Night Market is. It reveals the cold, lifeless husk beneath its lovely visuals. It's nothing but 'Me, me, me' and 'Take, take, take' in this game, and NPCs offer nothing in return except soul-crushing tedium and a long list of repetitive chores. Animal Crossing this is not, my friends, so don't be fooled. This is about as far from 'cosy' and 'cute' as you can possibly get - and that's despite it having dozens of pet-able cats.
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