At first glance, the relationship between Hyrule Castle Town and Kakariko Village is a simple one: they each represent a different way of life. The residents of Castle Town actively engage in commerce and trade, while those in Kakariko express a feeling of simplicity. The differences between these two communities are obvious; unless we unnecessarily over-think the basic facts of these settings’ economies, we won’t find many significant insights.

Well, over-thinking it is what I do best. So let’s take a look at what context Ocarina of Time gives us on economy and production, and take a look at just how much Kakariko Village reveals about class, money, and society.

Kakariko Village

Kakariko Village: a humble settlement at the foot of Death Mountain.

In Part One, we discussed how Hyrule Castle Town reveals certain economic statuses amongst its people, based very much on the way it is introduced to the player. From the large buildings, to the active marketplace, to the attitudes of the townspeople, we inferred the town’s general embrace of money and wealth. And from these fascinations, certain social complications emerged from the greed and class-based dynamics seen there.

Kakariko’s introduction reveals its own economic values in a similar way.

When Link first walks through Kakariko’s gate, he quickly realizes the differences between this village and the Castle Town he recently left from. The population is smaller and less dense, buildings are homier and less numerous, and the general attitude of town is far more relaxed. In the same way Link realized the social affluence and active commerce in Castle Town, he now realizes the easy-going mindsets and economic humility in Kakariko Village. Something about the way the town operates shows a laid-back and carefree environment.

A Home for the Common

So what creates this type of environment?

Well, what better way to start looking at a community’s social system than by looking at the ideologies it was historically built upon? According to sources within the town, Kakariko used to be an exclusively “Sheikah village” before Impa “opened it to everyone.” But more specifically, according to select villagers within Kakariko, Impa opened the village “to the common people.”

Now, the term “common people” could be referring to a few different things. It could easily refer to those that are not of the Sheikah Tribe — those common because they don’t have a divine obligation to serve the Royal Family… and those common because they don’t have spooky shadow powers.

The Sheikah have spooky shadow powers, right?

But another interpretation one could find in the term “common” is the implication of wealth, or lack thereof. Those deemed “common” could be those too penniless and marginalized for the bustling, market-based Castle Town. In fact, some in Kakariko outright admit that the village was opened to “poor folk.” Sure, poor could mean that they were afflicted in some way– perhaps by war or a natural disaster — but the term more likely means that they lacked sufficient amounts of money.

The exact meaning of “poor” matters little, because the end result is the same: the people of Kakariko were once decided unfit to live in Hyrule Castle Town and thus migrated to this village. In doing so, they developed a lifestyle far different from the one seen in the castle.

We’ve already discussed a possible class system that has developed in Hyrule Castle, but Kakariko’s backstory adds more credibility to the perforation of classes. If you didn’t think there were high and low classes in Hyrule before, you sure should now. The mere fact that people deemed “common” exist in Hyrule’s social structure points to clearly defined class system, one perhaps even more defined than what we already looked at in Castle Town.

There are “poor” people and there are not-so-poor people — low classes and high classes. We can’t run from that.

By looking at the contrast between the inhabitants of Kakariko and those of Castle Town, one can see how affluent those in Castle Town are and how simple – albeit happy – those in Kakariko are. The difference in lifestyle represents the difference in economic status. Those with money to spend and power to express live in a bustling, market town, and those too common to possess such things live in a humble, rural village

Sociologist Émile Durkheim would say the formations of such communities reflect a social “solidarity,” stemming “from likeness” amongst a group. In the ever-so-complicated The Division of Labour in Society, he would describe this phenomenon — called “mechanical solidarity” — as “the collective conscience completely [enveloping] our whole conscience and coincides in all points with it.” Thus by accepting this relationship, “we are no longer ourselves, but the collective life.”

…What?

In laymen’s terms, societies like this — those characterized by small, defined classes — group like-minded people together. People who feel like they share life struggles, in whatever way, tend to identify themselves as a single social group, thus forming a class.

From their acknowledged “likeness,” the people of a class no longer view themselves as independent individuals, but rather as members of a “collective.” Like a machine with many parts, the members of a group can now work together with a single goal in mind. This “collective conscious” — the singular attitude of everyone — no longer works separately, but completely works for the absolute betterment of the group. The struggles of each individual are now the struggles of the collective.

Kakariko Village serves as the localized center for the common people in Hyrule.

The “common” people of Hyrule all had something in common. And because they had “common” in common, they decided to band together, move away from Castle Town, and start a community of like-minded individuals. They found unity in each other’s similar lifestyles. They now share in each other’s struggles, working together toward a single goal, as if the struggles of each individual person are a part of a larger collective effort.

It all comes down to Love. Isn’t Nintendo grand?

A Communal Focus

So what do we conclude from these common people leaving Hyrule Castle Town for Kakariko?

Well, we can certainly agree that the commoners sought Kakariko as some kind of alternative to the lifestyles in Hyrule Castle Town. (Remember when I threw a lot of level-headed, economic insights at you?)

In contrast to those in Castle Town, the people of Kakariko seem a lot less interested in the pursuits of money and wealth. Instead, their day-to-day issues are more subdued, more emphasized on immediate personal concerns. The so-called Chicken Lady worries about the well-being of her cuccos, the Windmill Man — though perhaps looking after the windmill itself — seems to be more interested playing music, and the man in Impa’s house finds the slightest bit of solace in being terrible to anyone who happens to speak to him.

These matters are very different in nature to those found in Castle Town.

Not once do any of the people of Kakariko mention money or bargains or sales. While the people of Hyrule Castle Town were extremely outspoken about their value in wealth, those in Kakariko find value in other aspects of life. Though their professions may hold some economic weight, the natives of Kakariko at least (we’ll get to the carpenters later) show no urgency in securing money. They probably have jobs, but their investments in those jobs are not strictly monetary.

They seem to more worry about their passions, their lifestyles, and their happiness.

Not convinced yet? No problem; let’s discuss the modes of production in Kakariko Village when Link first visits as a child.

If you can recall, the modes of production are the ways in which products are bought and sold. Generally, a merchant will produce a whole bunch of a certain item of value — a commodity — with the intent to sell. Depending on how these processes work out, a society finds itself functioning in a particular economic system.

Well that’s the thing; Kakariko doesn’t seem to produce very much of anything, let alone for sale. But of course in a world where money magically sprouts from cut grass, who really needs to produce anything, right?

Regardless, let’s break this down.

The Chicken Lady obviously raises cuccos, so eggs and tasty meat could be a commodity. But never does she express a desire to sell these things; she instead offers to barter glass bottles for the lives of these animals. This woman’s chicken farming is notably different from Lon Lon Ranch, which also raises cuccos (“Super Cuccos” in fact) and is seen to trade extensively with Castle Town. Lon Lon Ranch is interested in commodities; Kakariko’s Chicken Lady probably isn’t.

The Potion Shop is implied to sell herbs, remedies, and medicines; it is a shop after all. But never once in all of Child Link’s travels can he actually enter the shop, let alone buy anything. A door conveniently placed on the shop’s door reveals that its owner is “gone for a Field Study.” The implications of sales and commodities are present here, but the player cannot act on them. It’s almost as if the game is holding the player back from these commodities to prove a point.

I suppose the Graveyard could be used to produce income, as Dampé or whoever else may charge for burial space. That would make him a monopolist! Or maybe the Royal Family shells out some rupees every so often for graveyard maintenance, which would make sense considering their massive tomb is housed there. Regardless, other than run a grave-digging game for children in the middle of night (something that sounds extremely illegal), Dampé is shown to produce very little.

Then there’s the Windmill, which is said to draw water for the well. But to whom would they sell water? Probably not the Castle Town that is pretty much three feet from a running, fresh-water river; and probably not the Zoras that live in said fresh water. Unless that windmill is also powering some kind of textile factory hidden between the windmill door and the happy phonograph man, water cannot be their commodity.

Whatever the case, the Kakariko that exists pre-Ganondorf produces very, very little from a consumption standpoint. In fact, nowhere in Kakariko Village proper (Dampé is a monopolist, remember?) can young Link spend a single rupee. Things work very differently here for our hero than in Hyrule Castle Town, and perhaps that’s the point.

Ocarina of Time is purposely presenting Kakariko in this way, dictating the player’s every encounter with would-be shopkeepers. Rather than allow the player to purchase and sell things as it did in Hyrule Castle Town, the game denies the player the opportunity to utilize money in any way in Kakariko. Of course we can reason that money exists in the village, but we are unable to actually see it.

Simply given the player’s actual experiences, Kakariko Village is actively dismissing the value of wealth. In this way, Ocarina of Time is communicating to the player that money is not useful or necessary in Kakariko, thus establishing a crucial difference between the village and Hyrule Castle Town. The game establishes two opposing communities, one of money and one without money.

In essence, Kakariko is purposely set up to oppose — to be the opposite — of Hyrule Castle Town.

Perhaps that is why the “common” villagers are shown to have left the materialistic pursuits of the growing consumerism in Castle Town. Perhaps the game is using

their community’s formation to identify distaste for the Castle’s appetite in wealth. And perhaps these attitudes are meant to reject such a system and establish something contrary to it, something more communal for example.

The system by which Kakariko Village produces goods and services (if you can call it that) resembles certain societies that run on a communal economic framework. Now, I want to make it clear that I am not labeling Kakariko as a Communist, Capitalist, or any other form of -ist. Making such definite assumptions about the economic status of fictional places would be extremely irresponsible.

I am merely saying that that the village functions more like commune, where the community is self-contained, self-maintained, and self-sufficient. It is a humble settlement self-removed from the bustling trade of Hyrule Castle Town, where things are less focused on money and markets. Everything in Kakariko is produced and shared amongst its people.

Let’s explain things a little deeper, shall we?

Throughout history, communal lands have served as territories in possession of a community, rather than an individual. This obviously differs from most modern-day systems of land ownership, as land is now generally owned privately. Traditionally, communal lands of the past were “officially” owned by the church or a king, but the people actually lived and worked there in exchange for taxes.

Now, Kakariko Village displays the possibility of such a relationship between its people and Hyrule’s monarchy; villagers may be working on that land in exchange for a tax of some kind. However, given that Impa originally opened the originally-Shiekah town herself may refute such an arrangement. The villagers could easily be paying a tax to her, or to the Shiekah order, or to no one at all.

Regardless of the tax situation, the fact remains that Kakariko Village functions very much like a communal territory. The community — the collective — owns and operates the land and its resources. The people implicitly share and save things like property, possessions, and resources, in a harmonious community of common life. This communal system is obviously very different from Hyrule Castle Town, where people most likely own and operate their property privately.

And what does this difference show us?

It shows that the resources produced and utilized within Kakariko bypass the motivations of greed and the senses of entitlement we saw in Hyrule Castle town. Ocarina of Time presents a community that values codependence and unity, not independence and competition. In doing so, we can see that the economic system by which Castle Town produces and manages its resources is not the only way; there are alternatives. The commune-like system that Kakariko Village employs is one of the systems, and it is one that players will perhaps find more pleasant and inviting.

A Punishment for Greed

So Kakariko treats its resources differently from Hyrule Castle Town, right? Absolutely. So, it holds to reason that the village would have a differing viewpoint on wealth and greed too. Absolutely!

In fact, Kakariko Village presents one of the most overt and significant condemnations of wealth I’ve seen in the Zelda series: The Cursed Skulltula Family.

Upon poking around Kakariko Village, Link hears whispers of “fabulously rich family that once lived in one of the houses.” It sounds to me like they had a lot of money. And not just a lot of money, but enough money to live a fabulous lifestyle worthy of Ghirahim himself. However, the legend continues to say that “entire family was cursed due to their greed!” The family’s accumulation of wealth inherently resulted in a collective attitude of greed, and thus they were left cursed by an unnamed force, almost as if nature itself punished them.

We’ll never know exactly who or what cursed this family, what force sat in judgment of this greedy group of people. But as we see that no one necessarily objects to their punishment, we conclude that the curse was brought upon the family justly. The villagers simply accept that the family’s punishment was naturally the right decision, as if the inherent law of nature dictated it. Thus we are left with an objective view of greed as an absolutely egregious sin — a sin that naturally deserves retribution.

The story of this cursed family ends with the cautionary line: “Who knows what might happen to those who are consumed by greed…”

What does happen?

We may never know.

Anyway, the Skulltula family maintains Ocarina of Time‘s themes of unrestrained wealth and resulting greed, the very same themes we discussed in Part 1. Just like in Hyrule Castle Town, the idea of riches is quickly and definitively associated with greed. In presenting a family that was ultimately punished by their consumption by greed, the game is explicitly condemning the process by which greed forms, i.e. flashing fat stacks of cash.

The player is expected to see the link between wealth and greed, and to understand that those who live with such things are to expect a negative outcome.

The Skulltula family’s house is left in Kakariko village untouched, as if as a reminder to those who live there. The villagers are to be reminded and warned of the horrors that await them if they too accept a “fabulously rich” lifestyle, characterized by an underlying motivation of greed. The family’s cursed house — securely stationed within the village for all to see — represents the fears that the village was established to oppose. The villagers see the house, understand its significance, and reflect upon the vices that brought on its destruction.

And this structure is not the only reminder of Kakariko’s past of avarice. Hidden deep underneath Kakariko’s graveyard lies the Shadow Temple where, according to mysterious voices heard within its walls, is “gathered Hyrule’s bloody history of greed and hatred.” It would seem the sin of greed has lingered in Kakariko even longer than we first thought.

First off, this description heard in the Shadow Temple inherently links the moral vices of greed and hatred. They are mentioned within the same breath as each other, asserting the idea that each carries the same degree of severity. Greed and hatred are here viewed on the exact same level, perhaps worthy of the same punishment.

The words we hear in the temple also describe the “bloody history” resulting from and inspired by greed and hatred. We can infer that Hyrule’s past — which has encountered war and conflicts of many kinds (some based on coveting for the Triforce) — can be characterized by violence and bloodshed simply because of Hyrulian greed and hatred.

This bloody history — this remembrance of violence based on greed and hatred — is situated at the base of Kakariko. The village’s very foundation is built upon the dark events that surround and are “gathered” within the Shadow Temple. This dungeon’s placement so deep under Kakariko’s signifies the village’s deep, conscious acknowledgements of the dark outcomes that greed, hatred, and violence bring. And with Hyrule’s bloody history gathered collectively in the Shadow Temple’s dark walls, we see how Kakariko Village actively fears, restrains, and represses the vices that brought about that history.

In this way, the Skulltula family and the Shadow Temple further motivate Kakariko’s movement away from money and wealth, and more toward an outright rejection of such things. These monuments are strong examples of the town’s economic philosophies.

And just as Link is expected to respond when the Skulltula Family’s patriarch offers him a choice (“If you break the curse on my family, we will make you very rich,”), so too is players are expected to consider their reactions to the wealth and greed confronting them.

But let’s be honest; we all just want that giant’s wallet, right?

An Alienation of Labor

Let’s talk about the Carpenters now, shall we?

One of the first people Link encounters in the village is Mutoh, the “boss of the carpenters.” Mutoh explains that he and his crew were “hired [by Impa] to improve this village and make it into a true city!” This sentiment of a “true city” is even shared by a Hyrule guard stationed at Kakariko’s gate; he says that Kakariko may have “small population now, but someday [the] place will be as lively as Hyrule Castle Town!”

Mutoh and his crew have set out on a large construction project to improve and expand the city. They are the ideal image of labor and the working class.

However, Mutoh (being the grump he is) is not slow to express frustration with his procrastinate crew. He complains that his “workers are just running around the village, and they’re not making any progress at all…” They are just so lazy and unreliable! These all sound like acceptable concerns for an employer to have; he wants his employees to work diligently and complete the task they are getting paid for.

But his carpenters are not the only people that Mutoh chooses to complain about. He continues on to make general statements about the younger generation of working class men; he states that “young men these days don’t have ambition,” implying the laziness of more than just his carpenters. Mutoh then offers an even more personal example to show the generation’s workless attitudes; he says, “even my own son doesn’t have a job…”

Mutoh, the authority of the working class, shows absolute contempt for the new generation of laborers. “They’re all worthless I tell you!” he shouts at Link, almost as if he is warning the young boy of the evils of procrastination and laziness. Why else would he vent his labor frustrations with a ten-year-old?

Through these words, Mutoh is obviously someone who values a hardworking attitude and movement toward progress. When certain individuals act contrary to these ideals, or display a general disregard for them, the carpenter boss naturally shares his unkind words with whoever is there to listen. He offers a strong, authoritative opinion of labor within Kakariko Village and within Hyrule overall.

However, the player is soon to find that there is another popular perspective of labor in this setting, one that is much more critical.

If Link happens to speak to one of the many carpenters frolicking around Kakariko, he will find a general distaste for hard labor. They will share about how “all day long [they] are working on many construction projects in the village,” and how their “boss works [them] very hard!” Pretty much on point with what Mutoh said, these gentlemen express very little enthusiasm for the tenants of hard work, ambition, and progress.

Interestingly, the attitudes of these carpenters resemble a certain mechanism within the working class of today’s world. By their tone and tendency to put off work in favor of frolicking, the carpenters obviously don’t enjoy the jobs they do; but there’s even more to interpret from their presentation in Ocarina of Time.

In the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, Karl Marx (Oh no, Rod’s talking about that stuff again) outlined a particular theory concerning the “alienation of labor.” In perhaps the most complicated way possible, Marx described the temperament of the worker in a capitalist society. Now again, I’m not saying Hyrule is a capitalist society; but I do recognize similar goals between capitalism and the “true” future of Mutoh. Both value the idea of progress, of personal initiative, and of individualized labor.

So the theory of alienated labor can be applied to the carpenters (if we try really hard to make it work).

Marx discussed how workers — by human nature — want to be fulfilled by the work they do. Each of our “species-essence” desires the psychological satisfaction of a “job well down.” However, when workers function in a capitalist system — where laborers perform an endless process of tedious, mechanical, and discrete labor actions for restricted wages — they are frequently denied that sense of satisfaction. Thus they are “alienated” or estranged by the labor they produce, on multiple different levels.

The carpenters in Kakariko are clearly alienated by their labor.

Marx would describe estranged labor on four different levels, and the carpenters most occupy two of those levels. The first is easy to understand: being alienated by the labor itself. The more the carpenters are asked to work — to perform the mechanical production of labor — the less and less they feel a satisfying connection to that work. The work no longer feels like it belongs to them, they become less proud of the work they do, and they no longer enjoy or want to do that work anymore. This is probably why they appear lazy or procrastinate, and why they are constantly finding excuses to frolic and avoid the work ascribed to th

em.

This type of estrangement is what contributes to the carpenters’ desire for “a job where you can make a lot of money without much effort.”

The second type of alienation the carpenters experience is perhaps the most severe; it involves the alienation of the laborer from his or herself. Marx identified a certain aspect of our human nature — our species essence — whereby we all have a tendency to engage in activities that encourage our basic survival and psychological well-being. They want to do things that make them happy.

However, when workers are forced to engage in the tedious labors of capitalism, they find themselves deprived of these satisfactions. They instead feel less and less valued as a human being, which is really sad.

Furthermore, the labor these workers produce contributes to certain forms of moral deterioration. After stating that they want an occupation that will “make a lot of money without much effort,” the carpenters conclude that the “only thing [they] can think of is thievery.” The only opportunity to resolve the alienation and frustration they feel in and towards their labor is in a life of crime.

“Is that a bad idea?” they ask.

Probably.

Marx saw the mechanical production of labor — where workers are forced to perform their labor in an exhaustive, repetitive way — as a process by which workers ultimately become less human. They instead work like a machine, a dehumanized object that’s sole purpose is to work. There’s no longer a distinction between the worker — the “subject” — and the product of his labor — the “object.” The worker becomes an object, no longer a human.

So the carpenters act like machines, even more so than they would if they were normal N64 NPC’s.

By working strenuously, tediously, and endlessly on their construction projects, the carpenters become less like humans and more like the buildings they work on. Their humanity is depleted and placed into the object they created through labor; and that object can’t even express humanity after the job is finished. With their humanity gone, the carpenters no longer value the human laws established in Hyrule. They want to become lawless thieves, and thus escape the labor they feel alienated by.

With the carpenters, we have two perspectives on hard labor. We have the alienation of the crew, and we have the progress-focus of Mutoh. Both seem like valid responses to the work confronting a person, so the player is ultimately left to decide which perspective they most support.

But I will say this: the game seemingly sets up the carpenters to be more sympathetic than Mutoh. The boss is introduced with his arms crossed and eyes squinted, constantly yelling at the things that upset him; whereas the carpenters (while lazy) share much more relatable stories of woe and desperation. I won’t decide for you, but I firmly believe Ocarina of Time is presenting the carpenters as to illustrate the dangers of economic progress.

Expansion and progress are noble pursuits within a society, but they can easily prove detrimental for the workers that perform the labor. The carpenters appear frustrated and trapped by the work they produce, but they can at least enjoy a degree of freedom in Kakariko Village. Though to the chagrin of Mutoh, the crew utilizes the village as a chance to escape from their work and enjoy themselves for just a little bit.

In this way, Kakariko serves as a retreat from the labor processes that take place in Hyrule. Just as the village offers alternatives to the processes of wealth seen in Castle Town, it also offers freedom from the processes of estranged labor.

A Generous Solution

In several different ways, Child Link’s encounters in Kakariko Village support a lifestyle ultimately contrary to Hyrule Castle Town. (We’ve hammered that point home enough already) It’s not until many years later that he would see a new layer of Kakariko’s social significance.

When Link returns to Kakariko after pulling the Master Sword, he finds that the future of “progress” that Mutoh professed has in some ways come to be. The buildings are bigger, the population has increased, and Link can actually buy a danged potion now. Even the beggar from Hyrule Castle Town has set up shop in the village. In a way, Kakariko has adopted many things from the Castle Town that Ganondorf destroyed.

But why would Ocarina of Time combine these two very different communities?

Excluding the new and improved Kakariko Village, Ocarina of Time has presented two distinct societies that emphasize very different economic and social values. Hyrule Castle Town expressed a fixation on money and wealth, all the while presenting the consequences of greed and social inequality. Meanwhile, Kakariko Village has expressed the importance of unity and communal property, all the while challenging a dependence on riches and labor.

Through these settlements, the game seemed to present two opposing perspectives.

In every way, Ocarina of Time presented the village to confront the issues brought up through Hyrule Castle Town. Remember those issues? The greed, the class disparities, the social collapse threatened by such moral deficiencies? These are the things Kakariko was meant to confront.

So why would Ocarina of Time ultimately bring these two societies together? What’s really changed?

Well, in essence, the new Kakariko that adult Link has discovered actually offers the definitive solution to Hyrule Castle Town’s destructive greed. The subtle transformation that this village has undergone actually reinforces the ideals it expressed in the past.

This point is effectively illustrated in the attitudes of the villagers. When Link visits Kakariko’s de facto inn (a repurposed house), the owner admits that she’s “been feeling so charitable these days!” She has been compelled by an innate force (sort of like the unnamed force that punished the Skulltula house) to exercise charity and kindness. She then asks the question, “don’t you feel this way, too!”

Well, do you?

If you really think about it, this is the attitude of the entire village after Ganondorf destroyed Hyrule Castle Town. In the wake of the destruction, the remaining people of Castle Town had no place left to call their own — no property and probably little money. They were stripped of the things they valued so much in the city.

One might have expected the people of Kakariko Village to reject these refugees, as some kind of ultimate opposition to the sins of greed. But no. Instead Kakariko’s people actually accepted these abandoned townspeople into their community, out of sentiments of charity and generosity.

Ultimately, expressing these feelings is the purpose of Kakariko Village. Yes, outright challenging the economic, social, and moral problems that plagued Hyrule Castle and threatened Kakariko was an important purpose as well; but what’s ultimately most important is to present a long-lasting resolution.

Ocarina of Time identifies an element of the human condition that is infatuated with the accumulation of wealth and pursuit of monetary success. In acting on these interests, people are shown to put themselves and society at risk of significant problems. The game outlines these pursuits through Hyrule Castle Town, and then opposes them through Kakariko Village. But in proposing these issues, the game also presents a very important question: what are we going to do about it?

In the end, the villagers of Kakariko — old and new — represent the importance of kindness and generosity. As cornball as it sounds, the village acts as a place that will welcome people of all backgrounds, maintain a community of shared resources, and offer relief from the frustrating works of progress. Sure, Kakariko may also challenge or even punish the transgressions of greed, but it will just as easily proclaim the importance of charity and goodwill.

Just like the selfless hero whose adventure we lead in Ocarina of Time — a hero willing to help any stranger he encounters — the village of Kakariko shares a set of discernable moral virtues. It proclaims an avoidance of the moral deficiencies caused by greed and selfishness, and then embraces the righteous qualities of unity, humility, and generosity. It all sounds very preachy, but would Nintendo have it any other way?

These sentiments are certainly important to the legacy of Ocarina of Time, and perceptive players are left to consider their placement in society.

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