The Bed Economy
Michael Lee
Breath of the Wild’s Rito Village Inn | Nintendo
The Pits or The Ritz?
Faced with the decision of paying the regular room rate of 20 Rupees, for the unenthusiastically described "normal bed" or paying quadruple that—80 whole Rupees— for the Rito-feather bed guaranteed to leave me fully energized in the morning, I came to the realization that here in Hyrule—in Nintendo's The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild—the machinations of late capitalism had taken over, with the indulgent allure of attainable luxury promising happiness to the masses at an inflated price.
It seems like an innocuous in-game decision to make. Paying more to gain an advantage in the game would be a reasonable investment from the standpoint of the player. The objective is to be the strongest you can be so that you can defeat Ganon at the end of the game. Gaining a boost to your stamina wheel or additional life points will serve you well in achieving this goal. These types of decisions occur all the time in video games, and it should come as no surprise that the principles of video games have been applied to the real world. In a world run by the profit motive, gamification of society has taken hold in a number of fields from health & fitness to the economics of ridesharing. This is all part of the ideology of neoliberalism, and what we see here in Hyrule is a reinforcing of this worldview. It is made all the more troubling by the fact that this is a post-apocalyptic version of Hyrule driven to destruction by the pursuit of power, and yet, the remaining people of Hyrule chose neoliberalism and free market capitalism to rebuild... Must be a case of "go with what you know" or something. And while choosing a more comfortable bed could just be seen as a simple game mechanic, it's a subtle affirmation of current economic structures in the real world as being ideal.
The more expensive room rates in Breath of the Wild constitute an affordable luxury, marketed to the player as offering substantially more than the "normal bed," making the splurge worthwhile. Choosing this option does have some added value, but at their core the perks are affective, appealing to Link's emotional side to desire something more. Luxury as a concept can be conceived of in a couple different ways. First would be to place 'luxury' in opposition to 'necessity' a want versus a need. The use value of an object serving the purpose of sustaining a person's life or, more generally perhaps, maintaining a level of comfort keeping someone out of a state of distress or despair. If an object has little use value, or that use value is tied to something that does not affect one's livelihood directly, the object is a want, a luxury. Nice to have, but non-essential. But what this two-tiered system does is create class stratification. To be able to afford the enhanced bedding option is showing the world that you can afford to do so. Plebeians can only afford the normal bed, unless they are living beyond their means (something capitalism most certainly encourages).
This classist pillow-fighting shows an ugly side of the world of Breath of the Wild, one driven by highly competitive tourism industries that favor the ultra-rich, and an economy that ensures that the rich continue to get richer. Two words. Late Capitalism.
Diamond in the Rough
Before getting back to the bed situation, let’s look at an example of how the Zelda economy is one entrenched in late capitalism. Playing through the game, I often had to bust my butt searching the world for gems as a freelancer—because this is a gamified sharing economy after all— using my own labor power to procure diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. Playing as Link, I have no job security, everything I do is at my own risk. Despite the lack of work safety, as luck would have it, I find a diamond! Hallelujah! I take it to the gem dealer and he offers me 500 rupees for it. Seems like a good deal, except that he immediately turns around and tries to sell me the same diamond for 2000 rupees. A 400% markup on an item that was not given any additional labor input to enhance its use value. This is so absurd, yet it provides an example of how this world is out of balance and will only lead to greater inequality. The labor of the working classes is exploited so the rich can continue to profit by selling us the fruits of our own labor for an exorbitant price.
video games reinforce a vision of a world entirely grounded in competition, and they provide the gratification of experiencing that framework as satisfying - Vicky Osterweil
This kind of buy/sell mechanic is common to almost any game, which once again glorifies the Capitalist as someone who—perhaps by waving a magic wand—can add value to an object. They buy low and sell high from desperate folk, or take your labor and turn it into profit for themselves. In fact, it's a hyperreal version of the capitalist system. An item in our world known for depreciation, automobiles, lose value as soon as they drive off the lot. In video games, that same principle applies, but even more ruthless. If the player buys a new weapon, and then immediately tries to sell it back to the vendor, resale value usually sits at 1/4 of the retail price. This is so ingrained in video games no one bats an eye. Vicky Osterweil writes that video games "reinforce a vision of a world entirely grounded in competition, and they provide the gratification of experiencing that framework as satisfying" we get to play in world that teaches us capitalism's rules, and that this can be fun. By "representing the violent coercion of capitalist systems as natural laws." Video games make capitalism seem cool; selling the player on the idea that new is better, old is worthless, and keep digging up those diamonds, the more you bring the gem dealer, the happier they'll be (and by extension, so will you!).
Plucking for Profits
OK, so back to the bed situation… Every region of Hyrule offers a luxury option to its customers. Some involve massages (the Goron people) or spa treatments (the Gerudo) which make sense in that they are added labor, and as such should cost more, though to reiterate, these services are being added to appeal to the aspirational class. There was a time when conspicuous consumption came with an element of shame. That to want more was seen as selfish, but as James Twitchell writes in his book Living it Up: America’s Love Affair with Luxury, "in a world informed by marketing, the shame of consuming too much has reconfigured into the shame of not consuming the proper stuff." Which is why the Innkeepers will upsell the fancy sleeping arrangement, they shame you into choosing the luxurious option. It is particularly pertinent that we are discussing the merits of an enhanced sleeping option, as Pamela Danziger's work has said that "the real paradigm shift is the move to a more individualistic and experiential concept of luxury." So much about luxury is now affect, the material luxury—while still desired—is subsumed by a feeling of luxury that can only be obtained through spending excessively. The more expensive option will fill you with a feeling you can’t get if you skimp.
It should come as no surprise that the strangest luxury sleeping option of them all is without doubt the Rito Village Inn. The Rito are bird-people, and they offers a Rito-feather bed for our hero to sleep in. In order to stay competitive and meet the demands of customers in this late capital nightmare, the Rito are using their own bodies to offer a perk to tourists. Stripping feathers off of their physical selves to provide customers with a good night’s sleep. Cecili the Innkeeper says that if I don’t have the best sleep of my life, she will eat her own tailfeathers. Yet, in this statement, the true nature of late capitalism is laid bare… The Ouroboros of late capitalism has wound itself around and is now literally eating its own tail to satiate itself. She says she “will eat her own tailfeathers, GUARANTEED” but the reality is, she has already done so, and she will only continue to do so to serve the customer and the market. Soon, it will be an arms race between the different bedding options in Hyrule, where all of the regions will be sacrificing themselves for the sake of the customer, to the detriment of their own well-being. The Rito are just the first to do so. This is the Bed Economy.
Can Hyrule Take a Left Turn?
Soon the effects of the Bed economy will spread, until it reaches an untenable tipping point, where either the system collapses (revolution. adopting a new financial system), or society collapses (wealth disparity reaches catastrophic levels leading to rich and poor completely separated). I wonder how this will play out in Hyrule…and in the real world.
Despite the neoliberal hell the denizens of Hyrule live in, I find it interesting that the Korok—the leafy-spirit folk in the game—are the only ones who do not even deal with the concept of money for their lodging. They recognize that as “the Great Mr. Hero” Link puts forth his labor for the betterment of society and as such, the little Korok who runs the inn made a bed for Link as a trade for the somewhat intangibility of his labor efforts. Here's where there could be room to see critique of the capitalist system. The magical Korok are seen as the most in touch with the balance of nature, and do to some extent guide Link through his journey. However, they are presented as a magical species, and that fantastical element could also be used to explain away their silly socialist way of equating labor and value, and siding with the working class. They are definitely the most left-wing outfit in Hyrule, but whether the player is supposed to take anything away from their teachings is another matter.
Michael Lee is the Editor of KOSATEN, and is currently pursuing research on Japanese fandom, with a particular focus on doujinshi and other fan-created media.
