Well, here I am. My new home. Thought it might be a lark to keep a journal about it from the beginning.After getting into town late last night and claiming a cozy little cottage with a nice blue roof, I was offered a few odd jobs by the local merchant, Tom Nook. Simple jobs. Deliveries to the local simpletons, mostly.
Nook did task me with some duties that didn't sit quite right, though. Straightforward marketing duties, it seemed, until I received specifics. Nook required me to send a letter to one of the locals spelling out our appreciation for her "consumerist loyalties" and post a message to the town bulletin board urging the townsfolk to remain "loyal." I'm not sure if I like this Nook character.
At least Mayor Mortimer seemed like a friendly guy. If a bit pompous.
The shop closed down just as I was completing my work, so I turned in, and slept off my exhaustion from traveling. When I woke this morning, the citizenry was wandering the area aimlessly with fishing poles and yammering nonsense about a fishing tournament. Curiously, none of them were actually fishing - I guess they felt more comfortable boasting about their mad fishing skills. I collected some stray seashells and traded them to the capitalist raccoon for a fishing pole, then set to work catching sea bass.
This so-called tournament was being run by an unsavory customer named Chip. Or Chuck, or something like that. He ate the sea bass straight out of my hands without so much as thanking me for my efforts. I hope he gets food poisoning and dies.
As I was heading home from my fishing endeavors, I noticed that the flag at the edge of town had changed. Not sure I'm comfortable with hailing Mort.
