When I went mod ‘shopping’, I wanted to add something as minimally obstructive to the pure Stardew Experience as possible — I have not yet completed a full year in-game and didn’t want my experience too noticeably different from an average playthrough. I decided upon three options: A tab that displays your current XP level progress in every skill, a small overlay which adds the catch rate of fish in any given area when you select the fishing rod, and a mod that let your pet dig up gifts for you around your farm.
First, I downloaded the pet gifts mod. Supposedly, now my pet dog, Hemlock, would scamper around my farm and occasionally unearth gifts, which I could go and find. I booted up the game and played a couple days. And no gifts came. So I went back and downloaded the leveling tab and the fishing overlay simultaneously, and re-entered my farm. Thankfully, I got immediate visual feedback: A bar would appear in the top right-hand-corner of my screen when I held my fishing rod. Of course, the first catch rate I saw was the 100% guaranteed trash catch from the small pond in my farm. The leveling tab held a bit more optimism: I was on my way to level 5 in mining and farming, and my fishing skill level properly reflected my commitment to the watery art. Ok, great. I had my mods downloaded. I was assured that they had taken effect. Now what?
I proceeded to play the game for 3 in-game days as if nothing had changed. I withheld from fishing in the river at one point, because I saw that the catch rate for anything new was non-existent. I ran an extra lap around my farm and cut down a couple more trees in case Hemlock dug up anything fun. None of these variations bore particularly interesting fruit. Still, I felt as if I had undergone something significant – I went to the effort of downloading these mods, and now that they were here I certainly wouldn’t remove them. Why? Reading other user’s responses to the mods did little to shed light on the matter. Most were inquiries towards getting the mod working on their computer. Some said they “liked” the mod, or it was “helpful”, without specifying any reason. I found I was experiencing the same thing: I liked the mods, found their presence enjoyable, despite the fact that they had no discernible effect on my approach to play. While digging deep in my brain for any reason why these pieces of code affected me so, I realized one possible explanation for this phenomenon.
The process of locating and installing mods — not necessarily the mods themselves — is its own form of metagame. In order to choose my three mods and thereby generate my improved game, I had to carefully evaluate my in-game priorities (Namely, showering my pet with love and becoming a Master Angler) in relation to my real-life limitations (Computer capacity and technological proficiency). Scrolling through page upon page of pixellated thumbnails and quirky descriptions, mouse ready to right-click open a new tab of possibilities, I took on the Nexus mods website like it had presented me with a horde of bricks to smash through, or a line of orders to cook. I felt my heart pumping as I downloaded a zipped folder full of files comparable to mysterious tomes in their illegibility. I exclaimed in frustration when I realized a mod I wanted to download required at least 4 other packs to be downloaded first: Seemingly, my level was not yet high enough to enter this area. My technological ineptness certainly emphasized the puzzle-esque challenge I imagined myself to be braving as I plodded through wiki pages. Yet, the communal investment in mods and modding as a continual process of addition and adjustment nods towards a larger thread of gamelike investment the sheer sharing and finding of (dare I be too corny and say, questing after) mods. After it all, I felt great satisfaction at booting up my game and seeing the mods present in my play.
Additionally, two of my mods clearly delineate the boundaries and realities of Stardew Valley’s processing functions: Fish catch rates and the experience collecting system. Despite not altering either process, awareness of these rules provides metagame commentary in a proceduralist nature, where meaning is embedded in both the rules and how one is compelled to act within them. I was able to observe the numerical specifications defining my game experience only through the intentional tweaking of its operations via modding. The inaction of the Pet Gifts mod led me to question the integrity of both the mod and the Stardew Valley code, as the lack of visible result for me proved an indicator of some other process going on in digital languages beyond my comprehension. The process of installing these mods and observing their initial changes may have been the apparent conclusion to my mod-quest metagame, but it left traces of a critical investigative approach to continue on.
While I initially feared the addition of mods would warp my first Stardew Valley experience to something unfamiliar and detractive, I didn’t realize the emergence of a new game could be a good thing. The relative un-remarkableness of my mod choices resulted in my introduction to a Stardew Valley gameplay experience that barely takes place within the game at all. Though intentional “gamification” of laborious tasks remains an foreboding presence in gaming communities, the spontaneous fun I had while puzzling through my approach to mods nods towards the mystifying, challenging, and altogether liberating potentialities of modding and metagaming.
– Daisy Marshall, March 4th, 2022
(all images via Cat Gifts on nexusmods.com)
