The sheer volume of farming-related memes at this year’s Honor of Kings Co-Creation Night could probably fill an entire yearbook on its own.The skit “1—I Get It” brought the in-game code where “1” stands for “Got it” or “Agreed” to the stage; the “Five Lanes” medley sang about the lone bravery of the Top Lane, the strategic planning of the Bot Lane, the frustrations of the Mid Lane, the daily routine of the Support picking teammates, and the competitive spirit of the Jungler.Iconic moments from KPL players—such as Menglei’s Han Xin tower-diving—and even a vision of Earth, Moon, and Mars teams in the year 2115 were all reimagined and woven into the show.
If we broaden our perspective from this one night to the past, we’ll find that “Nong”’s journey hasn’t been one of steady growth—it’s more like a series of sudden, unexpected transformations: from a tongue-in-cheek nickname used by outsiders, it evolved into a self-identifier for players;from community slang and jokes into an official in-game mechanic; from the tacit understanding born of online interactions into a social language used in real life; and even from a subcultural symbol within the domestic gaming community into a shared memory that overseas players can also intuitively understand.Each of these transformations was not a gradual evolution, but rather a sudden discovery—at a specific juncture—of a new medium, a new context, and a new audience, after which it spread in an almost explosive manner.
Before we knew it, *Honor of Kings* had become a medium through which players could connect and understand one another, and the “farmer culture” that emerged from the player community has become one of the vehicles for emotional expression.
01
What the player wants, the player gets.
Interestingly, at first, the term “farmer” was used somewhat jokingly. But as phrases like “farming” and “farming buddy” became more common, players weren’t just being called “farmers” by others—they also became increasingly willing to refer to themselves as “farmers.”
Today, I logged into my “Honor of Kings” account—you could say I went “farming”—and now that summer vacation is here, there’s even a “Farming Festival” just for “farmers.”
While this step may seem like nothing more than a subtle change in terminology, it actually marks the first critical shift in “Nong” culture—it brought about a reversal at the level of identity: what was once a label used for external mockery was transformed into a self-identifier that players actively embraced. This reversal is significant because it signifies that “Nong” has become a communal code that fosters a sense of belonging.When you’re willing to use this term to refer to yourself, you’ve already made the identity leap from “newbie” to “one of us.” It is precisely this identity shift that laid the foundation for all subsequent expansion—a group must first have its own “code” before it can develop its own language, rituals, and culture.
So, here’s the question: Why has this meme, which once had a self-deprecating tone, gradually evolved into a enduring part of gaming culture?
In my view, aside from the fact that the developers understand the players and are skilled at picking up on memes, what’s even more important is the logic behind *Honor of Kings*’ ongoing operations: culture stems from player participation. Rather than imposing a rigid definition, the developers listen, understand, and respond by providing new content, scenarios, and feedback—allowing players to see that their expressions are being acknowledged, so that both sides can continue to co-create and achieve mutual success.
This cycle isn’t complicated in theory, but the challenge lies in keeping it running smoothly in a game that has been in operation for many years.
From the perspective of player culture, the most important task for the developers may not be to clearly explain what “farming” means, but rather to give those who are willing to call themselves “farmers” and enjoy joking about the game more reasons to come together.
The “King’s Farm” game mode, which launched this year, is a perfect example of this.
As is well known, *Honor of Kings* players have long been calling for a “farming” mode. So, in April of this year, the developers went ahead and launched the *Honor of Kings* Farm mode—which could be described as “adding a farm to the game’s many farming-themed jokes”—allowing players to experience the joy of working the land firsthand.
Through various mutations, crops can become players’ “favorite heroes.” The developers have designed a large number of “mimic vegetables” based on puns, such as Jiwen Cabbage, Marco Pineapple, Lanberry, and Angela Pepper, among others.
One incredibly lucky player managed to grow an 840x Starry Sky Daji on their very first try and showed it off big time on social media. Another player left a tearful comment: “Everyone has an 840x crop they grew themselves—except me! King, you’ve truly let this old farmer down.”
The social scenarios that have sprung from this have kept players thoroughly entertained. In addition to showing off the heroes they’ve grown, players have also gotten creative with the farm bulletin boards: some players claim their vegetable patches have been “sprayed with pesticides”; others quip, “Did you come empty-handed?” or ““Is that enough, kid? If not, take the plot too”; and others have even played on the “reincarnation” meme with lines like “Reincarnated to Grow Vegetables in King’s Farm.”
Of course, as one of Tencent’s “signature features,” “stealing vegetables” has undoubtedly become a gameplay mechanic that players love to talk about. According to official data, “King’s Farm” sees an average of over 600 million vegetable-planting actions per day and 380 million vegetable-stealing actions per day.
Offline, the organizers have also partnered with brands such as McDonald’s, JD.com’s Qixian, and Bawang Tea Princess, allowing players to redeem physical prizes with gift boxes obtained from growing crops online—truly embodying the principle of “plant potatoes, get potatoes; plant taro, get taro; plant tea, get tea.”
King’s Farm has transformed “farming” from a mere linguistic symbol into a behavioral system that can be interacted with, experienced, and shared. Players no longer just say, “I’m off to farm,” but actually open the game, enter the farm interface, and complete a full behavioral cycle of planting → mutating → stealing crops → showing off.
The essence of this transformation lies in the shift from “talking” to “doing”—when a culture moves from the level of discourse to the level of action, its stickiness and virality undergo a qualitative leap, because actions are more likely to become habits than words, and habits are harder to forget than jokes.
02
1. I get what you mean.
If picking up on and playing with memes has become “basic stuff,” then this year’s carnival is a concentrated display of how “Nong” culture has spilled over from the screen into reality.
Over the course of the two-day event, the venue attracted more than 50,000 players, transforming it into a “large-scale friendly exchange hub for farming enthusiasts.”
At the carnival, some players were surprised to find that a “Honor of Kings” game designer was actually running a booth offering screen protector installation, under the guise of “one-on-one gameplay optimization.” After getting the screen protector installed, they really did feel like climbing the ranks was much smoother.
Some players also witnessed the “historic moment” when Menglei and Mingdao Siming posed for a photo together—a nod to his own classic meme.
At the in-person carnival, you’ll see a host of *Honor of Kings* heroes dressed in black as “suited bodyguards,” effortlessly demonstrating what the “top lane” is all about.
You can also see streets filled with heroes in cosplay parading around, waving and interacting with players as the sun sets. In that moment, it felt as if the shared “farming” lingo from the game had spilled over into reality.
Meanwhile, at the King’s Agricultural College, in addition to a large-scale cosplay skit, players received an acceptance letter featuring messages from various heroes. Online, they call themselves “farmers”; offline, they now have an actual agricultural college. Fellow “farmers” who used to tease each other in the community can now create new memories together at the anniversary celebration.
And during that evening’s “Co-Creation Night,” the actions, memories, and shared experiences—understandable only to fellow farmers—created by the players also took center stage.From the 10th anniversary of Menglei’s “tower dive” to the reimagining of “Don’t just stand there,” the players transformed memes that had once circulated within the player community into live performances on stage.
The playful banter about the “Grand Commander plus 11 Little Commanders,” Yang Mi’s commentary on the KPL boy band, and segments like Jiuwei impersonating Miledi and Qiancheng impersonating Baili Shouyue all provided extra entertainment for viewers familiar with the esports scene.From community slang to gameplay to stage performances, the mediums through which “farm culture” is expressed are constantly evolving, but its core remains unchanged: a group of people using a code that only they understand to affirm, “We’re all the same kind of people.”
This means that “Agricultural Culture” has subtly begun its third phase of transformation: space. The first two phases—the reversal of identity and the establishment of behavior—took place in the digital realm, while the Carnival and Co-creation Night events brought Agricultural Culture from the online to the offline world, transforming it into a live experience that can be shared face-to-face.
In the “1+1” formula of the anniversary celebration—when players contribute a “1” and the organizers respond with a “1,” the combined result is greater than the sum of its parts.This isn’t a one-way “official pampering of fans,” nor is it purely “spontaneous player initiative”; rather, it’s a two-way rapport forged through long-term collaboration. This rapport itself has become an irreplaceable relational asset—it wasn’t built through a single event, but accumulated bit by bit through countless daily interactions.
03
The world is one giant game of Honor of Kings.
It is generally understood that gaming culture typically originates and spreads within its own audience circles. Occasionally, when a meme or event gains significant popularity, we refer to it as “breaking out of the niche,” but many of these trends are short-lived and gradually fade away.
However, looking back over the past decade or so of *Honor of Kings*, the “farming culture” that emerged from the player community has consistently demonstrated enduring vitality and influence. It not only reflects the game IP’s distinct identity but has also gradually become a shared language through which many players understand and express their real lives.
But the most surprising feature of “Nong Culture” is that, without any deliberate promotion, it naturally underwent a fourth phase of expansion: spilling over from the gaming world and permeating every corner of daily life.This was not a planned brand campaign, but rather a spontaneous cultural permeation—when a sufficiently large group possesses a shared linguistic system, that language inevitably follows them wherever they go.
“Battle of Resonance,” a brand-new entertainment feature launched to coincide with the anniversary celebration, features Doria’s “Open Mic” skill, which requires players to sing “la-la-la.” The louder they sing, the higher the damage—and since it’s a “shared frequency” mechanic—all sorts of “socially embarrassing” videos quickly surfaced online: some players were off-key the entire time, others maxed out their damage output, and still others engaged in chaotic duets.
The recent incident involving Yu Rongxian, a food delivery rider from Qinghai who went viral for outwitting a knife-wielding man, has led many players to draw parallels with Sun Ce, a hero in the game “Honor of Kings.” As commenters across the board began to associate this move with Sun Ce’s ultimate ability, the nickname “China Server Sun Ce” quickly gained popularity.
Shortly afterward, the official *Honor of Kings* team immediately launched a citywide search to find this heroic food delivery rider and reward him with a full set of Sun Ce skins. Later, they also released an in-game avatar frame and voice lines featuring the food delivery rider, which were met with widespread acclaim.
In fact, beyond social events, “Nong Culture” has permeated every aspect of daily life. Just by casually browsing social media platforms and short-video apps, you can discover a wealth of “everyday” moments related to “Nong Culture” shared by users.
For example, a player happened to come across a “Honor of Kings Roast Chicken” shop while out and about. Not only did it perfectly reference the farming meme “Marco’s Exclusive Roast Chicken,” but the shop owner was even dressed up as a hero from Honor of Kings.
Some people also spotted the “Shaosiyuan” archway in the ancient city of Chaozhou and exclaimed that they’d been playing *King of Glory* too much. The comment section immediately picked up on the joke: “There’s ‘Haiyue’ at the subway station, ‘Yuange Convenience Store’ on the street, and ‘Luban Skewers’ for dinner.”
Passersby on the street imitating the signature moves of *Honor of Kings* heroes, a special graduation season at school themed around *Honor of Kings*, and wedding guests wearing cosplay outfits of their favorite heroes.
As a result, “You’re a Farmer, I’m a Farmer” has become a tangible reality. It’s no wonder that players often remark, “It feels like this world is just one giant game of Honor of Kings.”
Conclusion
No one knows where the next evolution of “Nong” will take place. Maybe it will be a variety show, maybe a short series, or perhaps something entirely new that no one can predict today. After all, in a culture where players willingly call themselves “old farmers,” its imagination has never been defined by anyone.
原创文章，作者：游茶妹儿，禁止转载：https://youxichaguan.com/en/archives/216719
