Tag: grief

What Remains of Edith Finch – Falling From The Family Tree:

For those of you who have been with MindGames since the beginning, you might remember that shortly after starting the site, I wrote an article for CheckPoint about one of my favorite games of all time – What Remains Of Edith Finch. Whilst clearing out some space on my hard drive, I came across the draft copy of that article and decided, you know what, I’m going to put it up here (with some additions) for you all to enjoy. It’s a game that’s worth revisiting with masterful storytelling and the strongest depiction of the consuming nature of some mental health conditions that I’ve seen in the gaming scene. Plus, it’s on GamePass so… free emotional experiences for you to try?

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Throughout the history of humans, the concept of family has always been the central part of our lives. From autobiographies to twitter threads, we like to share tales from our lives with those we care about, be it close friends and family or just the internet in general. Video games take this concept and run with it, building extravagant worlds and telling fantastical stories that boggle the mind. A lot of these stories have deeper meanings beneath the surface that you don’t always see, but there is almost always a sense of family in them, be it your blood relations or your crew members. It is my belief, that games that take a step back and think about the nature of human relationships are ones that will leave their mark on our hearts.

One such game is What Remains of Edith Finch. Released to the major systems in 2017, this adventure game received high praise from critics, players and reviewers alike who all praised its storytelling, presentation and commonly use it as an example to prove that video games are an art form. As a gamer who has a fondness for story-driven games, I was immediately intrigued and decided to take a weekend to just sit and immerse myself in the game. By the end of the game, I was sobbing at this masterpiece of an experience.

To give you some context, the game follows the character Edith Finch who has returned to her old family home after the death of her mother. Right away, many players can relate to how Edith feels – how it feels wrong to be there without her mother, how everything is familiar yet strange. When I lost my grandfather, we went to his flat to collect some mementoes to remember him by. If you read my Unpacking article, you’d know a bit more about what I took from that place and the memories that I associate with them. Yet, when walked through those doors and it was just… off. Everything seemed too quiet without him. I noticed tiny details that were wrong in my memories of him such as the plants not being watered and the tea bags being left in the cup for too long. It was his place, yet not. Much like Edith’s family home.

As you explore the uniquely constructed Finch home, you go from room to room piecing together Edith’s family tree. Various flashbacks and playable sequences have you experiencing the passing of each of her family members, from flying off the edge of a cliff to being poisoned by holly berries. Each tale gives you an insight into what person was like, from their stubbornness to their struggle with mental health. Although this is a game about loss, how Edith speaks of her family is truly uplifting. Each one of them is so unique and had such a profound impact on her upbringing, you can feel the pure love in her voice as she talks about them.

Now, I could dedicate an article to each and every one of Edith’s family members and their stories. From the crushing impact of losing little Gregory on his parent’s marriage, to the survivor’s guilt and traumatic memories of his sister Barbara’s murder that drove Walter to live underground for decades; there is so much to unpack here. All these deaths lead people, including some of the family members, to believe that the Finch family is cursed to perish in unfortunate circumstances. To grow up, surrounded by death and the specters of those you love, has ripple effects on the environment around the young ones, like Edith and especially, Edith’s mother Dawn.

Who I want to talk about, however, is Lewis, one of Edith’s brothers. The game hints at the two being close, with him playing video games with his little sister, showing her secret passages in the house and being everything, you’d want in a big brother. However, after a battle with substance abuse and having to go through rehab, he began to struggle with his mental health. His boring daytime job at a cannery was slowly wearing him down and so, he imagined a fantasy world – where he achieved great things. It began to consume him, to the point where he’d not speak to anyone for weeks, causing his family and therapist to worry. Eventually, the real Lewis became a hated figure in his mind, and he longed for the fantasy to come true. This culminated in him committing suicide and in Dawn and Edith leaving the family home for good, in an attempt for Dawn to protect herself and her last remaining child from meeting a terrible fate.

Out of the entire game, this story was the one that hit me the closest to home. Many people struggling with mental health conditions often feel like Lewis. The depression, the apathy, the feeling that the life you live has no point to it. We lose so many amazing people who become stuck in ruts as Lewis did, who suffer in silence and retreat into their minds to escape from its monotony. However, our minds can often be our worse enemies and in Lewis’s case, it provided him with an escape that eventually killed him. Lewis lost his sense of self, falling into a spiral of self-loathing and hatred that he sadly, couldn’t escape from.

The pain in Edith’s voice as she talks about her brother is clear. She feels powerless, guilty and the grief is still as fresh as it was when she first heard the news. The loss of a loved one will always hurt, as the hole they leave behind in the world will constantly remind you. However, the idea of someone you love, suffering in silence and deciding that death is the only option left to them, is a heart-wrenching thought. You rethink every interaction with them, overthink every word you’ve ever spoken to them and wonder what you could’ve done better.

The game is told from Edith’s perspective but when you think about how those emotions must be amplified tenfold for Dawn. Once I’d heard all of the Finch family’s stories and looked at the finished family tree, I realised just how much Dawn has lost. The loss of her baby brother, the divorce of her parents, the lingering guilt and grief after finding her other brother dead, witnessing her father die, then losing two children – one to mental health struggles that she felt powerless against and the other whose fate she never had confirmed, it’s no wonder she’s desperate to protect Edith. It makes the line you hear her shout as she argues with great grandma Edie, so much more powerful:

“My children are dead because of your stories!”

Our family can be our greatest support in times of need. They can save us from the darkness, pull us up and remind us that we are loved, we are worthy, and we are capable of so much more than our minds allow us to think. However, if we are deprived of that support, we can feel isolated and worthless, and in the worst cases, we could follow in Lewis’s footsteps. So, be there for those you love. Whether it’s your sibling suffering from depression or a cousin struggling with OCD, be by their side through it all. Appreciate your family, whether it’s the one given to you by blood or whether it’s one you choose. You don’t know how long you’ll have them with you for, so make the most of every minute. Make sure they feel as loved as they make you feel. Sometimes, just knowing someone has your back can make all the difference in the world.

Be kind to one another,

CaitlinRC.

Moonglow Bay – Fishing for EMOTION

During the occasional lulls in my chaotic life, where work and personal projects are running smoothly (what an insane concept, I know), I like to scroll through the games lists on Xbox Game Pass or the Nintendo Shop on my Switch to find something new to play. A lot of the random indie gems that I’ve played and/or talked about on this site have come from those scrolling sessions, rather than keeping track of review listings or release schedules. I mean, my life is frantic enough without adding something else to keep track of!

One such game that I found was Moonglow Bay. Like many others, the fishing element of many popular games like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley and even Final Fantasy XV has a rather addictive quality to it. Relaxing, satisfying and technically contributing to in-game progress, players have lost hours of their time plundering the ocean’s depths for its treasures (and various bits of trash). So, an entire game based around fishing, exploring, and cooking seafood for your hungry customers seemed like a fabulous idea.

I’m fishing for my sanity – no luck thus far.

Yet, Moonglow Bay is so much more than just a fishing game. It’s a tale of loss, grief, and hope, of community and restoration, of building relationships and keeping promises, of making new memories and treasuring old ones.

Immediately off the bat, the game asks you to choose who you wish to play as, what you wish to be called, your pronouns as well as the identity of your partner. The fact I could choose they/them as my pronouns and the fact I was not restricted in choosing the opposite gender partner to that of my player character, brought a massive smile to my face. Representation is important and the developers of Moonglow Bay, Bunnyhug, have clearly thought about it – with the pronouns you choose being used throughout the game, rather than as a one-off thing.

TFW I’m better at cooking in a fictional game than IRL

Personally, I want everyone to play this game – available on PC and Xbox, but I know not everyone has the time nor access to their system of choice, so I’m going to talk a bit more in-depth here about the game. There may be spoilers ahead, so if you want to remain wholly blind going into this game then uh… close this tab immediately?

Anyone still here? Let’s chat.

Based in the seaside town of Moonglow Bay on the Eastern Canadian shoreline in the 1980’s, your character (whether you’ve called them an actual name like I did or called them Sir Bootylicious) and their partner (Robin, in my game!) are learning to fish. Your partner talks about their dream of settling down in the bay and setting up a business selling various meals made from the wide variety of local fish in the area. They give you a present to celebrate the pair of you starting this new milestone and you promise to open it when they get back from their fishing trip tomorrow night.

Sadly, they never come home.

The developers are hilarious. Also, this guy will forever be called Dave.

Three years pass and you’re living alone, comforted by your ramen and your precious pup Waffles (and yes, you can always pet the dog). Your daughter, River, drags you out the house to go fishing and to show you how run-down Moonglow Bay has become. Trash on the beach, brickwork crumbling, homes and businesses boarded up – the town is fading away. As the town fades, so does your lost partner’s dream. So, what will you do about it? Roll up your sleeves, get fishing and restore the bay to its former glory through the power of your bloody brilliant cooking skills.

As you explore the bay, catching all kinds of sea creatures and cooking them up into delectable dishes, you begin to rejuvenate the town and unravel some of the truths behind the various superstitions that seem to haunt the bay. Tales of monsters in the deep, creatures that destroy ships and terrorise sailors, rumours that have only grown stronger as the fishing industry dwindled during your grief. As you move forward with fulfilling your lost partner’s dream and pour your heart and soul into the town you both loved, you find mysteries and secrets that intrigue you, monstrous creatures that send other anglers running in fear and a trail of breadcrumbs that might give you a way to soothe the raging void in your heart where your partner once resided.

Thankfully, our ship is not called the Titanic.

Each chapter of this story finds you facing off against massive creatures of the deep and you need to quell their rage before anyone gets hurt. Yet, these monsters aren’t out for revenge. They’re just creatures in need of help, much like the player is. Much like the town of Moonglow Bay. Maybe, just maybe, helping these wounded creatures will help you start to heal the gaping wound in your heart.

Anyways, please try this game. It has a heartfelt storyline, a beautiful world, fun mechanics, and soothing music. Do it.

CaitlinRC.

Röki – Walking In A Winter Wonderland (With a troll):

Back in October, which seems like it happened a decade ago, I was at EGX in London. After being lucky enough to get a Press Pass for the event, I spent quite a few hours scrolling through my emails, searching for games that I found interesting or ones that I thought deserved a little more love in the indie section. One such game was Röki, an adventure game that follows a young girl named Tove, who is trying to rescue her brother from the claws of the monster that kidnapped him.

In the short demo that I got to play, I was immediately immersed in a fairy-tale world. So, when the full version of the game was released on Steam a few days ago, I immediately threw myself into it. Over the course of a weekend, I completed each chapter of the story, trying my hardest to appreciate and discover every corner of my surroundings. Though I will say that spider is horrifying, I nearly threw my laptop across the room when I first saw it and the NOISES IT MADE WERE TERRIFYING OK.

Look at these gorgeous woods, it reminds me of the woods near where I was born.

Point and click adventures tend to be an experience of trial and error. For games with less well-thought out puzzles, it becomes a rage game, where you try combining anything and everything in a desperate attempt to progress the story. Röki, thankfully, has managed to avoid the puzzle pitfall. The puzzles were instinctive, cleverly interwoven into your interactions with the world. It didn’t feel like the plot was being held hostage until you finished collecting several shiny stones; it instead feels like a genuine obstacle standing between Tove and her brother.

From a technical standpoint, Röki is a masterpiece. Upon opening the game, you are greeted with sweeping vistas of a snowy mountain range. The forest stands out on the snowy background, managing to seem inviting and ominous at the same time. You’re greeted with icy lakes, towering trees, and crumbling castles – the likes of which we associate to the stories that we read to our kids at bedtime. These gorgeous landscapes are enhanced by the lighting engine that Röki implements. When you’re working with the sheer white snow of a mountain landscape like that of Tove’s home, it can be hard to make each explorable area unique enough to interest the player. In fact, arctic explorers must contend with a type of mirage, in which the snow makes it look like there is land on the horizon.

A lovely idyllic house, perfect for a fairy tale to take a dark turn.

Every aspect of Röki has an incredible amount of thought put into it, from the character designs, to the ambient sounds of the forest that you are exploring. The world of Röki is a living, breathing organism that deserves your utmost respect and from my time with the game, I am more than willing to give it that. Footprints will trail behind you in the snow, the wind blows through the trees, ravens will spook if you get too close. The birds sing and the trolls grumble as you walk past. It feels alive and bustling, yet you feel alone. Tove is on her own, in a world that she has only experienced in bed-time stories. Whenever I closed my eyes in Röki, every sound cue and background noise painted an elaborate picture of the world around Tove, a beautiful canvas forged through song.

Although beautiful, Röki is a remarkably dark game when you start to look below the surface. Littered across the forest are trolls that have been petrified by the sun, left frozen and alone until the end of time. A nearby church is filled with gravestones, that on closer inspection are those of children, taken at a young age and never recovered. A tortured soul who drowned in a lake now dwells there, dragging unfortunate souls to meet the same fate. Tove’s journey is not an easy one, it is more than a simple adventure to rescue her brother. It is about forgiveness, empathy, and hope where sometimes we find none.

LOOK AT THOSE MOUNTAINS AND FORESTS. SERIOUSLY. ITS SO PRETTY. SO SO PRETTY.

Personally, the plot hit close to home. It is a layered tale of loss and redemption, told through the eyes of a young girl who has been forced to grow up too quickly. Through exploring a magical forest, filled with whacky and wonderful creatures (plus a few of the more… deadly variety), you begin to uncover the story of a family in distress, whose dispute has had serious ramifications for the forest’s ecosystem and wellbeing. In her quest to rescue her brother and reunite with her father, Tove manages to piece back together the broken shards of a family of powerful beings – the Guardians of the forest.

If you don’t want any spoilers from the main story, then I’d recommend stepping away from this article now, purchasing the game on Steam, playing it through, eating a large amount of chocolate to recover emotionally and then come back to continue reading! I’m going to talk about a big spoiler from later in the game, because I feel it’s well worth talking about.

God I love mythology. And their gods. Ehehe.

So, SPOILERS AHEAD:

At the start of the game, your brother Lars, is taken by a monster through magic portal. Your father was last seen under a pile of rubble and wooden beams, begging you to take your brother and run.  Although not explicitly stated at the start of the game, its clear that Tove’s mother has died – as well as that the loss is recent. Since the loss of her mother, Tove has had to take on the role of caregiver in her household. From caring for her little brother, to stoking the fire, to cooking for the family, this little girl can do it all. Yet, she shouldn’t have to. Her father is deep in grief over the loss of his beloved wife, leaving Tove alone in her own grief and pain.

As the game progresses, you are tasked with waking the three guardians of the forest – the wolf, the stag, and the bear. You learn that there was a fourth guardian, the raven, but she was outcast into another dimension with her son, a result of her falling in love with a human. Each of the guardians were responsible for a season in the year, as well as working with one another to keep the forest in balance. When the family fell apart, so did the forest they protected. Now the raven, seeks her revenge.

Get thee back satan, THIS IS MY BEDROOM. MINE.

With each of the guardians you wake, Tove is forced to walk through memories that she tried so hard to suppress. These memories are about her mother – key days that they spent together and the days that followed her loss. Facing the past, is an incredibly difficult thing to do. Whenever I think back on the people that I’ve lost, the memories that I’ve desperately tried to forget, it brings a tightness to my chest and a pain to my heart that is hard to describe. So, for Tove to face those memories, to battle through them, all to save her little brother from a mythical creature that is most definitely beyond her abilities to win a fight against, is incredible.

This becomes prominent in the climax of the game, where Tove faces off against the creature that took her brother. It turns out that Röki is the son of the raven guardian, who is desperate to have her son accepted by the world that cast them out. She is merely a mother that wants her son to have a normal life, though she really needs to work on her methods because child sacrifice through dark magic is not the best approach. In our eyes, she is the villain of this piece but from where she stands, she’s doing what she must. To her, a random human child’s life is nothing in comparison to the happiness of her own offspring.

Aw sweetheart. Back when you thought it would all be ok.

It is in the finale that one of the most emotional sequences in gaming makes its appearance. I’ve spoken before about games like What Remains of Edith Finch and Drawn to Life, with their powerful plots. However, Röki rockets to the top of that list in my minds eye, because it feels so heartfully genuine and real, that it is remarkably similar to some of the nightmares that I have had due to my ongoing battle with PTS. Tove is forced to relive the day of her mother’s death, which depressingly, is also her baby brother’s birthday. You sprint around a forest, desperately trying to track down the ringing phone that could bring medical help to save your mother. Yet every time that you have it in your grasp, you are teleported back to your parents’ side who beg you to do something, that only you can save her. It’s a harrowing but powerful moment.

Anyways, this review has gone on much longer than normal. If you haven’t played Röki, please do check it out, the folks at Polygon Treehouse are talented and extremely lovely. Have a good week everyone, remember to wash your hands and wear a mask. Remember to follow the site, follow my twitter @OurMindGames and like/comment!

CaitlinRC.

GRIS – So Beautiful It Should Be Illegal:

So, a few days ago, I had hit a bit of a writer’s block. I wasn’t sure what game I wanted to talk about, so I reached out on Twitter to you guys (@OurMindGames) for any suggestions. Out of the many awesome suggestions I got from you guys, one really grabbed my attention. It was a game called GRIS, an artistic platformer that had been on my radar for a little while. People have spoken very highly of its visuals, soundtrack and powerful message – so needless to say, it seemed right up my alley. As I’m currently prepping to go back to university for my final year, I have some free time on my hands, so I decided to dedicate an afternoon to trying out GRIS. That afternoon quickly morphed into the rest of the day, until around 9 PM that evening when the credits rolled, and I sat back in my chair – stunned into silence.

The story of GRIS isn’t clearly laid out to the player. It’s told through imagery, visualization, and symbolism that will leave you pondering it’s meaning hours after you put it down. At its core, it’s a puzzle platformer. The further you progress through the game, the more abilities you unlock, which allows you to progress to new areas. It’s a fairly linear experience so you don’t worry too much about getting lost, however, the game does encourage you to explore each area to its fullest – with the key to moving on often being tucked away in a hidden cave or up a series of complex jumps. It’s a game that rewards you for taking your time and looking around, which as a completionist is a very satisfying experience.

This is your protagonist. Though you could argue, you are the real protagonist.

When the game starts, you see a young girl lying in the hand of a statue – seemingly asleep. She awakes and begins to sing, gradually rising into the air when suddenly her voice just stops. Without her voice, the statue crumbles and you are powerless to watch as she plummets to the ground, a seemingly desolate place devoid of the beautiful colours of the sky above. To start with, she can barely walk without crumpling to the ground, gradually regaining her strength and abilities as the game goes on. You collect tiny stars that form little constellations, allowing you to cross gaps and restore colour to the world around you. Each colour you restore opens another section – e.g. unlocking blue restores water to the world, enabling underwater exploration.

Honestly, you could fill an art museum with screenshots of this game, and nobody would question it, as this game is visually stunning. The artists behind this game manage to make even the simplest of colour schemes and landscapes beautiful. When you combine that with the haunting soundtrack, this game is best experienced in a room by yourself, on a big screen. I played it on my switch but honestly, it deserves a fully equipped cinema with surround sound and a ginormous screen to truly appreciate every titbit of detail and love that has gone into crafting this game. The game itself is not very long, it took me about 4 hours on and off to finish a playthrough, including a twenty-minute puzzle section that I was just too dumb to realize the simple solution to.

How is possible to be this gorgeous a game, I’m just saying!

What I really want to talk about though, is what I feel the story behind this game is. As there are only a few little cutscenes and the closest we get to any exposition from the character herself is through song, it’s mostly about how you choose to interpret it. The achievements list gives you a hint towards the game’s true meaning – specifically those related to each “Stage” or chapter of the game. I didn’t notice this until the final chapter when I popped an achievement called “Stage 5 – Acceptance”. This achievement and its counterparts all refer to stages from the Kubler-Ross model, which talks about the five stages we go through when we are grieving. Let me explain each stage and its corresponding achievement in GRIS:

Stage 1: Denial – Often our first reaction is to deny that anything is wrong as if pretending it doesn’t exist will reduce the pain later. In the first chapter of GRIS, you start out barely able to walk – collapsing to your knees frequently and struggling to stand up again. Most players will get GRIS to stand back up, but if you leave the controller and let her stand up again on her own – this stage of the model will be fulfilled, as she herself denies that anything is wrong.

Devoid of colour and life, the world seems to be crumbling around you.

Stage 2: Anger – When we are upset, often we internalize that pain and instead lash out at others. When you are hurting, sometimes you feel like that nobody understands the pain you are in and that the only way to lessen the pain you are in is to inflict it upon others. During the second chapter of GRIS, you gain the “heavy” ability which allows you to smash through unstable objects and destroy various statues/pots scattered around the world. This ability is a clear manifestation of that second stage of grief, which the achievement emphasizes as when you destroy three specific statues, you get the “anger” popup.

When the world tries to knock you down, keep pushing on through.

Stage 3: Bargaining – “Don’t you think after all this time, and everything I have ever done, that I am owed this one?” – The Doctor in the Snowmen, Season 7 of Doctor Who. This quote sums up the bargaining stage of grief for me. We feel that we are owed something, that we deserve better than our current situation presents. That maybe, just maybe, the world will take pity on us and provide that little bit of hope. We beg for it, trying to barter with chips that have no real worth anymore, even though we know deep down that it won’t work. In GRIS’s case, this is seen when you come across a statue in the forest chapter. Her first reaction to it when you try to interact is to sing to it, despite her voice still being gone. She is trying to barter with something that isn’t there anymore.

If you don’t learn to accept things, it’ll weigh you down forever.

Stage 4: Depression – I think the use of the underwater section for this stage is remarkably clever. Often, we describe depression as sinking under the waves, falling further and further from the light that we so desperately try to cling to. In my case, it often feels like a heavyweight is attached to my ankle, slowly tugging me downwards no matter how hard I resist it.  In order to get this achievement in GRIS, you must seek out the statue hidden in the darkness. This section is pitch black and finding this hidden cavern is not easy, as its surroundings are full of creeping darkness that threatens to consume you. That statue is of a woman, seemingly sinking down into the inky depths, like how you fell from the sky at the beginning of the game.

We all sink into the darkness sometimes. We just need to keep pushing back to the light.

Stage 5: Acceptance – After retrieving your voice and escaping the shrouding darkness, you come across a tomb on the remains of the land. In this tomb is a statue, lying down, still and quiet. If you sing to it, the acceptance achievement pops. Although it doesn’t seem like much at the time, to me it reminds me of the songs you sing at funerals. In those moments, you can hear the whirling mix of emotions in everyone’s voices – grief, joy, longing and hope all mingling together as one. It’s a haunting yet powerful experience to be a part of, whether they were your close family, a good friend or just an acquaintance.

To me, this game is a tale of grief and loss. Now, this is just my interpretation, but I think that our young protagonist has just lost her mother. To me, the start of the game seems to be the moment that the loss truly hits her and her whole world crumbles around it, losing all the joy, colour and structure that her mother brought to it. Often when we lose someone, we feel like a part of ourselves has been ripped from us, like a missing limb or a hole in your once full heart. In GRIS’s case, this manifests as the loss of her abilities. She struggles to walk, to move through the world on her own, to begin with. Her voice, which can restore life to the world and heal the cracks in it, has been stripped from her. Every time she opens her mouth, nothing comes out – as if she is on one side of a one-way mirror, slamming her hands against it but getting no response.

Every colour she restores to the world, every demon she faces (looking at you, giant creepy eel thing), brings her one step closer to overcoming the grief that is threatening to consume her. The darkness and demons chasing her, seem to indicate depression and anxiety – the way they appear and disappear, how they creep up on her and force her to flee. She can’t fight it, only try to outrun it. The same is in life, you can’t outright fight mental illness. It’s always there and it always comes back. You learn to coexist with it, to lessen its hold on you, to accept it as part of you. The end of the game leans towards this, with her seemingly moving on – her voice spiraling up into the sky, harmonizing with her mother’s, shattering the remaining darkness and restoring colour to the world. It’s a powerful ending to a powerful game.

Light and darkness cannot exist without one another.

This is probably the most moving game I’ve played in the last year. Having recently lost my grandfather, it spoke to me on an incredibly personal level. Even if you can’t afford it right now, watch a playthrough of it, or even listen to the game’s soundtrack. It is, hauntingly beautiful and something I think we all understand on a primal level. Grief and loss are a part of life, yet I hadn’t played a game that really summed up that experience until I played GRIS.

I hope you all have a great week, next up is Little Nightmares! If you enjoyed this piece, remember to like it, follow the site and comment below any feedback or suggestions for future articles!

Much love,

CaitlinRC

Drawn to Life – Where Scribbles Can Save The World:

A profound belief of mine is that anyone can be good at anything if they put their mind to it. Growing up, I was never “gifted” at art. Neither my sister nor I were considered “artsy”, mostly sticking to crafting birthday cards or building little models out of wood and glue (much to my mum’s chagrin). At school, I was pushed away from the arts – something that I fought against, keeping my love for drama going strong and discovering the joys of backstage work. However, I lost my love for art. I dropped art at the end of Year 8, not returning to it until the end of my first year of university due to that innate fear that I wasn’t good enough to even try.

The fact I lost something that brought me so much joy for so long, is an experience that I hope no-one else will go through. It is this attitude to “not naturally born artists”, that can crush so many people’s dreams and deprive the world of the unique beauty that they would bring to it. Therefore, I think games like the Drawn to Life series, can be crucial in inspiring the future generation. For those who have never heard of these games, it’s a bit hard to explain but I think there’s a mechanic in it for everyone. The games were developed by 5th Cell, the team behind the Scribblenauts series, for the Nintendo DS. It’s sequel – known as Drawn to Life: The Next Chapter, was released in two editions for the Nintendo Wii and the DS, each version telling a different story.

If you hadn’t guessed by the title of the games, this series involves drawing. In both games, you take on the role of the “Creator” – the god-like entity that watches over the world and cares for its residents. The citizens of the world, known as the Raposa, are humanoid creatures crossed with rabbits? It’s a bit hard to tell but they have cute ears. When you load the game up for the first time, you hear the story of how the world was created, how you created the Book of Life, which contained all the designs for your creations. The game gets you to draw forests, the world and even the people themselves. Then you hear Mari, a young Raposa, begging you for help. The darkness has almost consumed the entire village and you are their last hope.

If you don’t want to help these little cuties, then you suck 😛

The remaining villagers gather in the broken-down Creation Hall and you, the Creator, bring life to the old mannequin sat in the corner, providing them with a hero to combat the darkness and its source – Wilfre. Wilfre used to be a member of the village until he tried to make his own creations instead of just waiting on the Creator. When those creations turned into shadow monsters, he fled the village and tore the Book of Life into shreds, scattering its pages to the wind and condemning the village to eternal darkness. He is the antagonist in both games in the series, though his character gets a lot more development in the sequel.

The games are split in half, the first half being the various story elements, character interactions and drawing sequences required of you to push the plot forward. The other half is a platforming game where you fight off basic enemies, collect the various collectibles and retrieve whatever item/page from the Book of Life you were sent in there to retrieve. At the end of each “world” is a boss that forces you to combine all the skills you’ve learned in that world in order to defeat it. Once you finish one world, you move onto the next. Pretty standard stuff. However, it is the personality of the villagers you save and the world you help create, that you grow so attached to.

Nearly everything in the game, from the hero to the town’s buildings, to the very platforms you use to explore the levels, is hand-drawn by you. Sure, there’s the occasional template out there for you if you aren’t in the mood to draw but the game actively encourages you to put your own twist on the world. Either that or they ran out of budget to pay the artists. I speak from experience; you don’t need the drawings to be “high quality” in order to enjoy the game. Though, I do burst out laughing every time I see my original platform design – I accidentally hit the wrong button so all that got submitted was a red dot! It made me smile so I decided to keep it and carry on with the game, much to my chagrin later when the platforming sections became more complex. After all, it’s rather difficult to jump to a platform you can’t see…

This is my child Heather if you hurt her I WILL FIND YOU

I think part of why the Drawn to Life series has such a profound influence on my love of drawing, is the fact that it accepts literally anything you give it. Whether the hero you provide the game with is just a blob or something more… explicit (looking at you Game Grumps), they go along with it and are just as willing to enlist your assistance to save their world. No matter how ridiculous or sloppy you think it looks, to the characters in the world, it is the most beautiful creation they have ever seen. They are nothing but grateful, which is a really refreshing perspective, especially for young artists that are just starting out.

As much as I prefer the charm and mechanics of the first game, the sequel’s story is what speaks to me the most about this series. Throughout the game, there are constant hints towards a greater meaning to all this, with a mysterious voice asking you about “that night”. They get you to draw what you think you remember about it, occasionally coming back to it in between your various doodling adventures. Wilfre, the bad guy from the original game, claims to be acting for the greater good, saying that if his plan doesn’t succeed then the whole world will be destroyed. He kidnaps Heather – a young Raposa with darkness covering half her face, that you rescued in the first game. So, the Raposa set out to rescue her and defeat Wilfre once again.

Considering his behavior in the first game, no-one believes Wilfre’s “saving the world” claim but soon Mari, the now-mayor of the community, disappears. You see her rip the Book of Life to shreds and Wilfre, disguised as your friend “Sock” (totally not suspicious name there Wilfre), throws the pendant given to you by Heather into the ocean which was your only way of tracking her down. Eventually, you make your way to Wilfre’s lair where Mari confronts you all and explains why she has been working with him to drain the colour from the world. She talks about what she’s seen and how if they don’t act, they’ll all be wiped out. When Mike, a member of your community who looks creepily human in comparison to everyone else, speaks up, Mari screams at him about how he won’t ever understand. You then challenge Wilfre and once you defeat him, you must extinguish the “Eternal Flame” and allow the world you’ve spent so long saving, to fade into darkness. It’s a drastic change from the goofy adventures around the world on a giant sea turtle.

I’m not ashamed to admit that this ending sequence made me very emotional.

In a series of images, you watch a human family visit the carnival and drive home in the dark. The two children in the back of the car are a young girl and her smaller brother, whose parents are killed when the car crashes into a ditch. The young girl’s face is badly injured, resulting in half her face being heavily bandaged. Meanwhile, the little boy is put in a coma. These two children are Heather and Mike. The entire world of the Raposa is an invention of Mike’s mind, keeping him trapped in the coma. The darkness from the first game potentially hints at his struggle to survive his injuries, whilst the colour draining from the world in the second game shows that the more he wakes up, the more the vivid the world he created will become – hence Wilfre draining the colour to prevent it.

This ending was considered too dark for many people and was replaced with Mike falling out of a tree in other releases of the game, however, I think any other ending wouldn’t have such a poignant impact on the player. Throughout the game, you hear someone talking but they don’t seem to make any sense. However, as the Eternal Flame goes out and the world fades, those words become the phrase:

“God… Just bring back my little brother to me.”

I honestly didn’t expect such a deep and profound storyline from such a goofy little game series but I’m so glad I gave these games a chance. We’ve all lost someone, whether it be to illness, time or distance. Speaking from experience, the feeling of sheer hopelessness that comes from watching a loved one in pain is horrific. I can only imagine the pain Heather must have been in, each minute that her baby brother lay in that hospital bed. As much as the Drawn to Life series are kids’ games, they convey much deeper messages and encourage creative expression more than a lot of more “mature” game series.

Now, I’ve rambled on long enough. Hope everyone has a good week and remember to like, comment and follow the site to keep up to date with all my posts. If you want to chat with me about more general things, hit up my twitter – @OurMindGames !

Thanks,

CaitlinRC