I live in a tower block. I barely know my neighbours. For example, I know nothing about the guy living opposite me, even though we’re often only a few metres apart. Perhaps, for this reason, I've started reminiscing about Animal Crossing. This game provoked an emotion I would never have otherwise felt - a sense of community.

In Animal Crossing, you live in a small idyllic forest populated by a handful of anthropomorphised animals. Tangible aims are few, such as upgrading your house and completing collections. Instead, the game essentially consists of running around a lot, fishing, buying shit for your home, and talking to the other villagers.

The game’s strongest point is how human the animals seem. They're flawed, just like real-life people. There are eight personality types – polite, snob, lazy, grumpy, jock, tomboy, energetic and normal (which sounds like a Snow White rolecall). Jocks are dull, while snobs are self-centred.

Like football teams, you naturally gravitate towards animals you like. My favourite villager was Static, a grumpy loner. Look at his eyes – full of disdain and apathy. He was always saying interesting things, like "Stay off my lawn!" and "You keep this up and you're gonna be cruisin' for a bruisin'!" and "My name is Static. I'm known for my ability to walk around".  He was probably a repressed genius. He's living in a forest utopia, but still, he suffers, for his own, private reasons. His grumpiness just makes you like him more. Like the target of Stockholm syndrome, he seems like a nice guy underneath.

The game is full of charming and quirky details. The way Tom Nook brazenly follows right behind you as you browse his store, overeager to sell his wares. The village gathering for fireworks on July 4th or New Year's Eve. K.K. Slider's guitar performances (from 8 pm to 12 am on Saturdays). Digging holes around the villagers so they can't escape, or trapping a villager in a pitfall and then hitting them repeatedly with the net until they get angry. Watching the villagers interact with each other. Receiving letters. Receiving a letter that a villager has left the town... and that you'll never see them again! Sniff.

The game uses the console's clock to give the illusion that the village continues even when you're not playing. I like to think that I still have my village, on a memory card covered in dust in my parents’ attic. One day I’ll blow the dust off, plug it in and return to that village. There'll be weeds, and pestilence, and death, and one animal will be sobbing, Where were you? We needed you!

I miss the friendship and warmth of those little animals. The game encourages you to speak to strangers, while the real world tells you to do the opposite. You even can go into people's houses and look around for fuck sake, which would be called trespassing in our world.

If I actually did return to my virtual village, I suspect everything would be okay. After all, the worst thing that can happen is that someone gets annoyed and moves away. In that sleepy town at least, everything’s alright.