‘Stardew’
— Reneé Bibby
Imagine you receive an invitation to leave your 9-to-5 life. A magical missive to uproot, adventure, explore new lands, and grow into the real hero you are. Don’t we all dream of it? Even an inkling of that adventure is all you need to appreciate Melissa’s Goodrich’s ekphrastic poem ‘Stardew,’ about the role-playing game Stardew Valley. Answer the call! Go spelunking, build bombs, mend fences, jump into a hole you can’t see the bottom of, befriend the dwarf, and spend time fixing busted glasses. The Player lives outside the purview of our real everyday life—yet she is haunted by existential questions. She’s made choices that have defined her course through the world and the game, so wonders about the choices not made. She contemplates the future she cannot see. And that is where the specifics of the game become immaterial and exactly the reason anybody can enjoy it, because Goodrich’s poem is fundamentally about us, how even where the fantastical is possible the fundamental remains: Does what we do make us who we are? What will we nourish and what will we destroy? Who will we love? How will we spend our days? How will we spend our hours?