"You don't understand, you don't have kids."
What a polarizing statement. Any time it comes out of anyone's mouth, the reaction is always the same: all the parents in the room express their approval while the non-parents roll their eyes. I swore I would never be one of those people that said that when I eventually had kids. But I do. And I do it a lot. Because believe me, it changes your perspective, even on things like your hobbies. I never thought being a parent would impact how I viewed and enjoyed gaming, but here we are.
Much digital ink has been spilled over What Remains of Edith Finch, a game one might derisively call an "indie walking simulator" by developer Giant Sparrow, and the meaning behind it's story. Folks on the web have arrived at a number of different conclusions on its message, but it's generally agreed upon the game is rather...sad. And it is. If you have never had children, you are going to play WROEF, you will probably empathize with it's characters, you will most likely stop and ponder what you just experienced and you may even shed a tear. But if you're a parent, this game is going to grab your heart, tear it out and stomp on it over, and over, and over again.
Along the way, you will find various notes and keepsakes, which will allow you to experience the lives of Edith's ancestors through their own eyes. Some of these sequences are more conceptual, planting themselves firmly in the realm of surrealism, while others are more realistic and matter-of-fact. But every single one ends with the death of that family member. These scenes aren't particularly graphic, there's no blood, gore or over the top violence. But they are still very impactful. It's clear that death is a central theme here, though many reviews I've seen differ on the true meaning of WROEF's message. Sure, it's filled with death, but it also goes out of it's way to make a point that the Finches live their lives to the fullest. Each sequence has it's own unique control scheme and all of them do a really good job of making you feel like you're part of the family. Some of these sequences could even be described as "fun" or "whimsical," and they have been frequently in other publications. For a game that is, at its core, about death, loss and sadness, WROEF isn't at all morbid or morose. It doesn't wallow in its own misery or dwell on its depressing premise.
But at the end of the day, dead is dead. I hear, see and understand those that have called WROEF out as life affirming or even inspirational. But it bears repeating a "you wouldn't understand, you don't have kids" to many of the people that wrote those reviews. It's not just that these sequences are about death. It's that they are about the deaths of children. Of all the stories Edith explores, only two of them deal with the deaths of a adults. Many of them focus on the deaths of children under 10. This game essentially asked me to live a parent's worst nightmare over and over again. A lot of the sequences aren't disturbing in the traditional sense. But that didn't change how I felt about them. I've been gaming for a long time. I've perforated countless zombies in Resident Evil, ripped off hundreds of heads in Mortal Kombat and blasted just about every kind of alien into green mist. I've played games like Silent Hill and Amnesia: Dark Descent that prey on the deepest, darkest fears in the back of your mind. But I'm not sure any of that will stick with me like what I experienced playing WROEF. I still can't get some of these sequences out of my head and I found the ending to be particularly haunting and depressing. Because at the end of the day, all of this is very, very real. I'm never going to be in an interdimensional fighting tournament, my hometown isn't going to become overrun with zombies and I've never lived somewhere where the fog causes your worst fears to become reality. But anything that happened to the Finch family could happen to me and it could happen tomorrow.
All of that may sound like a negative, but it's actually quite the opposite. That I still can't stop thinking about WROEF is a testament to how well it accomplishes what it set out to do. Like 2064: Read Only Memories, which I reviewed a few weeks ago, WROEF is less about gameplay and more about telling a story. And it tells a great, albeit massively sad, one. If Hollow Knight was the obvious Oscar Bait, then WROEF is the film that actually ends up winning for best picture. The story is so well done and immersive and it really demonstrates what makes video games such a diverse medium. Simply put, there's no way a film, recording or book could accomplish what this game does. A lot of it is in the presentation, words will appear on the walls or in the sky as you explore the house, displaying Edith's internal monologue as you learn more. She describes each important part of the house as you move about, folding even small details into the overarching narrative. The family member sequences are about as immersive as you can get and they are designed to really make you feel like you are jumping into their bodies.
One particular sequence that stood out to me involved Edith's brother Lewis, a local troublemaker who finds himself working at a fish cannery. You take control of Lewis as he goes about his day, working on the line slicing the heads off fish after fish, which you control with the right analog stick. Seems very mundane and not like an interesting task for a video game. But Lewis, a recovering drug addict, begins to daydream to avoid the monotony of his new life. He's always been a daydreamer, but his newfound sobriety and clarity have made the dreams feel even more real. A small minigame pops up as the narrator, in this case Lewis's therapist, talks about some of his daydreams. Now it's up to the player to control the character in this fantasy world with the left analog stick. But you still have to slice the fish, you're dealing with both situations at the same time. As the story unfolds, the side game gets bigger and bigger, and begins to take over more and more of the screen. It eventually consumes your thoughts completely, progressing from a daydream to a full on hallucination and leaving you with only sound cues to keep up the slicing.
As someone who experiences this regularly (the constant, life-effecting daydreaming, not the fish head slicing), I don't think I've ever seen it represented so beautifully or accurately. I couldn't help but relate to Lewis, thinking about myself doing whatever mundane, stupid task I had to do at work while dreaming about literally anything else. It's not something you can just stop, half the time you wish you could just go write your thoughts down or go do something you're thinking about, but through it all you still have to focus on work. No other medium could have done something like this so effectively. Because you are in control of the character, you get the true feeling of what it's like to become more and more distracted as your work becomes more and more mind numbing.
I think that's what I liked best about WROEF. It's not ashamed of the fact that it's a video game, albeit a relatively simple one. It works within the confines of a game to tell a story. And it's a truly well thought out, mature plot. This is the kind of title that gamers can point to when someone comes at them with the whole "just toys" line of thinking. I also think this is one of the few video games to deal so expertly with the topic of sadness. Plenty of video games delve into the concept of grief, but sadness is a little different. A lot of games use grief as a plot device, your character grieves his lost loved one and swears revenge on the person that took them. But WROEF is more about sadness, how members of an allegedly cursed family cope with the constant losses around them. It's not something a lot of games delve into.
And now, after all that, we talk about actual gameplay. There honestly isn't much to say. You move Edith around the house, she tells you when you should interact with an item and that's pretty much it. Each family member sequence has it's own unique controls, but they are all fairly self explanatory. The overall controls are a little wonky, but you get used to them quickly. It's not like it matters much. Again, like in 2064, it's not like you're fighting enemies or racing against a timer. You are free to explore the house at your leisure. At least 2064 had some semblance of puzzles, this doesn't even have that. It's closer to an interactive novel than a video game. It helps that the graphics and sound are near perfect, the visuals are striking and exactly what you would expect for a bizarre game like this. The sound cues and minimalist music add to the atmosphere and overall feel of the game.
I'm not going to lie, this was one of the toughest games to come up with a score for. On one hand, it almost doesn't even qualify as a game and shuffles you from point A to point B, something I complain about frequently. But it works here far better than it does in FPS' or other genres. On the other, WROEF offers a gut wrenching, thought provoking story that covers themes like death, sadness and mental illness in a way that no game before it has. It offers a truly spectacular presentation, even if much of what's actually happening is beyond your control. But at the end of the day, I had to give WROEF it's due respect. It's really hard to do this game justice and in general I highly recommend it. Just know what you are getting into and make sure you are in the right head space before you dive in. If you're feeling down or depressed already, or you're worrying a lot about your young ones, then maybe hold off. But if you're ready to to experience an outstanding story that deals with some deep, heavy, sad stuff, you should absolutely play WROEF.
9/10
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