Both this video and my walkthrough of Fractured Minds have felt like progress, even more than my “I Can Do It Better” series. My commentary has more focus, and I don’t feel the pressure to crack jokes. I have experimented more with video editing, even if all that I have done is add shadows to text and make transitions a little smoother.
My current dilemma relates to how I critique these video games which focus on mental health. Both Drowning and Fractured Minds don’t function well as traditional video games, and I was particularly ruthless in my review of Drowning. Polygonal Wolf and Emily Mitchell delivered very important messages, and I cannot emphasize enough how relevant their stories are as we raise awareness of mental illness. They serve as great discussion topics.
They’re also bad games. I would technically recommend Think of the Childrenover these two. That’s a damning statement.
“Important
message” and “bad game” don’t usually mix in the same review. It creates confusing criticism. I’m essentially presenting a trophy to these
developers and then shitting all over it.
At the podium. In front of their
family and friends.
You get the
point. It feels cruel.
As with many
dilemmas, I question how I would want others to treat my work. Back in college, I wrote a series of poems
for a class, most addressing some form of my own struggles with mental
illness. As an aspiring writer, I obviously
wanted my peers and teachers to praise my work and offer their opinions. I think
I also hoped someone would recognize the pain I had experienced and had said, “Wow,
that’s tough. Thanks for sharing that.”
So, Polygonal
Wolf and Emily Mitchell, I critique your work, and I hope I am not too petty or
catty. I hope that I perhaps gave some
constructive feedback. I also genuinely
appreciate what you both have shared. I can
only imagine your experiences have been tough, if your games are any indication
of what you have been through. Thank you
for sharing these stories with the world.
That takes guts, and you should be proud of yourselves.
Now, I don’t suggest
you take the trophy home. I made it a
bit filthy.
Would you watch a 35-minute
slideshow of nature scenes? Would a story—conveyed only in unnarrated subtitles—make
it more interesting? What if this story is about one teenager’s struggles with
depression? Would you enjoy it then? Knowing that the story is intended to be
straightforward, would you pay to see this entire show? If you said “yes” to
everything, Drowning will fulfill your wildest dreams. Otherwise, you’re fine to ignore this game
entirely.
The rest of this review is for those
who want to read criticism for a game that was never really meant to be your “typical”
game. With Drowning, developer
Polygonal Wolf shares an account of mental illness, no more, no less. It engages gamers too little to be a
traditional video game, and its personal yet simple narrative holds it back
from delivering a deeper message on depression and the human condition. Unless
you’re specifically looking for Drowning, you have little reason to buy Drowning.
What is it?
Drowning involves you dying as water
fills your lungs and suffocates you. Drowning, conversely, follows a
nameless protagonist as he struggles with European depression, which is like
American depression but with misspelled “wourds” and fewer bald eagles. Over
four years, our character’s symptoms gradually worsen, and his quality of life
soon follows. Suicidal thoughts infect his inner dialogue, and the world around
him becomes more isolated and sinister.
Your role in this journey is to walk
along the beaten path before you. You will pass through a mountainous forest,
along a beach, across a bridge, and other vistas which become less serene as
the protagonist’s depression worsens. As you stroll, text is typed across the
path, essentially creating thought bubbles representing our character’s inner
monologue. You will walk at a lethargic pace, which possibly references the
lethargy one feels when depressed. You can
move slightly faster if you hold B, which makes looking around and walking an
awkward ordeal, and this likely has nothing to do with depression.
Moving forward is all you will do as
our narrator shares how his depression impacts his mood and academic life.
Occasionally, you can wander off the path and grab a random collectible, but
these collectibles only unlock achievements on other systems. There are four
endings as well which require you to take hidden branching paths, and these
amount to a few extra clips of dialogue. Otherwise, you will walk, as is the
nature of the walking simulator.
What’s good?
Polygonal Wolf’s story provides a
personal account of depression which can either inform the audience about
mental illness or offer validation to those who experience depression. Without
complicated metaphors or dramatic events, the narrative feels more realistic
compared to other accounts of mental illness which try too hard to make you cry.
What’s bad?
Presentation and control issues
limit immersion. The text is spaced haphazardly along the path, so you may have
stretches without text or chunks where you have to stop and wait for the text
to finish typing. Scenery constantly pops in as you walk, and levels end
abruptly, flicking to a black screen without fading. Typos appear occasionally,
and sometimes the environment makes the text difficult to read. The camera can
be a bit sensitive, and holding onto the “move slightly faster” button becomes
a chore.
Drowning describes depression as an unhealthy friend but struggles
to stick to this metaphor or make sense of it. Throughout most of the game, our
narrator refers to depression as “you,” an entity which convinces the narrator that
he is a burden who should isolate himself from others. However, in the
penultimate act, the two have a conversation, with “depression” claiming that
it was trying to show the narrator that “there is nothing wrong with being
different from everyone else.” It wasn’t “depression’s” fault; it was the
narrator’s own thoughts all along! For some
reason, the narrator drinks this Kool-Aid immediately, and we’re left to wonder
if “depression” was really depression at all or was actually hope or a guardian
angel or schizophrenia.
The environment and music clash with
the content. I understand Polygonal Wolf was going for a laidback experience—complete
with tinkling piano and trees everywhere—but the casual stroll does not reflect
the character’s inner turmoil. You do visit a foggy bridge and an ominous house
which fit the tone more closely, yet even these can’t shake the general feel of
being on a relaxed guided tour.
Spoilers
here, folks: The endings try to resolve
everything and make grand statements when neither seem deserved. One ending
finds our narrator completing suicide, having an epiphany in some afterlife
nature trail, and then deciding to come back to life. Another ending stops the
game midway with our character going to therapy, as if doing so suddenly
resolves everything. The most confusing one involves the narrator deciding to
remain dead, spending eternity in limbo with other faceless characters who died
by suicide. I believe this ending is trying to pay respect to those who have
completed suicide, but it comes so far out of left field that it is more
fantastical than thought-provoking.
With its short runtime, Drowning
can’t accomplish much. We follow four years in our character’s life, but we
learn so little about him. We are given a few specifics, but this is not enough
to give our narrator a full personality.
As such, we can’t connect with him as deeply. The aforementioned endings
act like acceptance speeches, rushing to a finish without saying anything. Drowning
could drag with another hour of content, but it would also allow Polygonal Wolf
to convey a fuller message.
What’s the verdict?
Like Fractured Minds, Drowning isn’t so much a video game about mental health as it is a story of mental health that happens to be programmed like a video game. I imagine those who work in the mental health field could use it to start a conversation on depression, and its message may be deeply validating for some players. I also bet the majority of Switch gamers will see Drowning more for its limitations than its merits. Mental health may still be relatively untouched in the video game world, yet this game has only scraped the surface. Unless you’re short on change, the Switch library offers deeper opportunities to explore mental illness while having fun.
Arbitrary Statistics:
Score: 2.5
Time Played: Less than 1 hour
Number of Players: 1
Games Like It on Switch: Fractured Minds, Gone Home
