Dave Critiques - Toren: Mythical fiction

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[Hi there! Just a friendly reminder that this is a critique. I will be discussing the game for those who have completed it. If you haven’t, perhaps you should stop this video now, unless of course you’re still interested in what I have to say, and don’t mind the risk of spoilers.]

More than any other point in Toren, there was an event early on that encapsulated the game for me. There is a dragon in a dreamscape that you need to pass. At regular intervals he breathes a petrifying mist, that if you are out in the open, will turn you into a statue. The gap is too large to cross during one of these intervals, and repeated attempts will have your character seeing the corpses of those who came before her frozen in horror in various states along the path. The solution like most, seems simple in hindsight. You can use the corpses to hide behind, and thus make it across the gap safely.

Toren is a game of cycles as the above example helps to illustrate. In most games death is not an end, but instead a chance to learn from one’s mistakes and overcome the obstacle put in front of you. Toren ties that concept to its overall theme. What that theme is can be difficult to parse. Once the credits rolled and showed images of humanity’s progress through war and industry throughout our brief recorded history, I was struck with the notion that this game that seemed to be based on Brazilian myth (as it is made by a Brazilian developer) about a young girl born into the role of the Moonchild, fated to slay a dragon (while all those who came before her had failed, including the character you play at the opening moments of the game) was saying a lot more than it seemed to be.

The main goal of Toren is to climb to the top of a tower. The aforementioned dragon thwarts your progress along the way, and aside from your sword and the guiding teachings of mysterious monks, your main ally is the tree that is growing through the center of the tower. As you climb its branches, the camera pulls in to show off the beauty of the world you find yourself in. There is an ethereal quality to the art; trading between vibrancy and darkness, and shifting itself to establish states of mind. Nostalgically, the camera highlighting this is reminiscent of mid nineties FMV games, where the cut-scene art was so much more pronounced than the in-game assets, yet there would be camera transitions showing off the majesty of the pre-rendered backgrounds.

And just like the tree, the game branches itself off as well. There are sections where you meditate and learn from the monks (who may or may not actually be there anymore). These teachings take you to optional dreamscapes, where you gain knowledge. Knowledge which is not exactly necessary to fight the dragon, but it helps round out the experience. When has knowing more ever been a hindrance? Actually, I accidentally skipped a couple of these sections upon my playthrough, and my main desire to replay the game is to see what they add to my overall thoughts of what transpired.

Of course, Toren is a game, and the gameness of it is worn on its sleeve. Most of your time is spent taking in the world and observing the Moonchild’s journey, and because of this the game elements really bring attention to themselves. The dragon fights in particular are set up in a way that revolve around certain mechanics that the player has to come to terms with. Nothing is too difficult (the story at the start of this critique was the area where I spent the most time figuring things out), but their adherence to gimmicks that are separate from the rest of the game (such as the use of salt drawings in the dreamscapes) draw attention to such moments.

Now earlier I talked about replaying the game to not only experience what I missed, but to put some more of the puzzle together about what transpired. Toren’s length makes this easily possible. The game takes about two hours to play. That’s about the average length of a modern movie. Toren is a bit like an art film, in that it might take more than one watch to fully appreciate it, or come to terms with what it is trying to say, but in coming to such an understanding, those curious do not feel their time has been wasted. Most games due to their length do not afford such opportunities, but then again, how many games are ambiguous as to the nature of their purpose?

One of the joys of experiencing art from other parts of the world is the ability to gain an understanding of their culture, and especially their stories. Earlier I made mention that Toren seemed to be based on Brazilian myth based on the reference to the young girl as a Moonchild (although this could be referencing the zodiac or the Crowley novel), and the cycles of death and rebirth. It could be my ignorance speaking, but from its starting moments, the situation gives off a mythical, or at least very old tale vibe. A little Google research came up with no such stories, so it could be an original fable. It’s certainly different to anything I have come across literature wise, but I am not the most well read when it comes to myths and legends, so take that as you will.

Dave Critiques - A Bird Story: The game equivalent of a silent movie?

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It’s difficult to discuss A Bird Story without discussing To the Moon, the previous game from developers Freebird. While To the Moon was a much longer narrative (taking hours to complete while A Bird Story takes a around one), both share the DNA of Kan Gao as designer and composer (and I hope I’ve pronounced his name correctly). There is an emotional weight, especially near the end of both as the curtain is revealed and the core of what these stories are truly about is laid bare for the player.

While To the Moon was very heavy-handed with its ultimate reveal, A Bird Story deals with its emotional baggage in a more subtle way. This could be due to that A Bird Story is the game equivalent of a silent movie in that there is no text or dialogue, and everything is conveyed through visuals, music, and mechanics; at least what little game mechanics there are.

To the Moon was criticized for not having much gameplay. A lot of narrative focused games from the last half of the 2010s onward have had this levelled at them. As games experiment more with how to effectively tell a story in their medium, our classification of what a game can and should be has needed expansion. Many of these games have been snidely referred to as ‘walking simulators’ (Gone Home, and Dear Esther are two examples), and despite the derision of such a term, it is an apt description of the gameplay for both To the Moon and A Bird Story. Both have the player walking through locations, and while To the Moon has the player talking to characters and solving memory puzzles of quite a simplistic nature, A Bird Story has the player mainly moving through locations with small diversions such as jumping in puddles or fetching food and water for your feathered friend.

It is these small moments where A Bird Story excels. Taking you back to your childhood and splashing around in the rain, letting your imagination take over, or even the fear of adults as authority figures. These moments are spaced out across time that can feel strained (within its short length), and this has a lot to do with the lack of control.

A Bird Story reminds you via an on-screen prompt when it is time to play the game. This is needed as there were a few instances early on where I thought I would be controlling the main character and it turned out that it was not yet time to do so. It is such an admission that gives fodder to the detractors of such narrative based games.

There is still an overwhelming desire to play the games in front of us. Part of this is contributed to the power of games to allow us to inhabit worlds and universes completely different to our own. A Bird Story’s universe is an appealing one of a young boy obsessed with flight, who saves and befriends a small bird, growing attached to this new playmate. When it comes time to release the bird back into the wild, at the behest of a teacher and veterinarian, the boy rebels, not wanting to lose the connection he has made with this winged creature.

As you might imagine, the themes of friendship and loneliness permeate throughout your time with A Bird Story, and such feelings play exceptionally strong near the end when things look their worst for the boy and his bird (with the ‘all is lost’ moment clearly defined). On the other end of the emotional spectrum is a feeling of joy, wonder, and freedom. This is at its strongest during a fantasy sequence where the boy is helping the bird find its lost partner by flying around the world and searching nests. The most impactful sequences such as this one are those in which the player has control (the jumping through puddles standing out in my mind as well, although that might be my childhood growing up in Washington talking). Kudos to an attempt to create a meaningful and emotional narrative through sight, sound, and gameplay, but it does feel like these three elements were not as balanced as they could have been.

Finally, as a fan of To the Moon, there were two nods to the previous game within A Bird Story. I will not point them out as they are fairly obvious, but the second one in particular made me excited for the next game out of the studio, as they seem to have become enamoured with a very specific signature style.

The more time spent with A Bird Story, the more fond one seems to become. It could be because of its short length, but I think that when it comes to its visuals, the musical compositions (which are phenomenal and attributed to the director), and the storytelling, Freebird Games have found a formula that has resonated with an audience. The lack of control from the player is lamentable, and while for many it can detract, it is certainly not a deterrent. Just be prepared for some strong reactions if you own or have ever owned a pet.

Dave Critiques - Glitchhikers: Driving alone at night

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I wonder if all hitchhiking is this existential.

Glitchhikers evokes a dreamlike state. If you have ever driven down highways in the middle of the night, generally alone, the familiarity will be quite evocative. What feels like veering is no more than changing lanes, and changing lines along with relegating your speed are two of the minimal choices offered to the player on this night time journey.

You may also look out your left or right window for short periods of time, either to explore the surrounding landscape (which is pretty much the same until you reach the city) or to look at the hitchhikers you pick up at timed intervals. Interestingly enough, you can never watch them entering and exiting your vehicle, and that coupled with the surreal conversations (and of course their appearance) lends credence to the possibility that they may not even be there, at least not in a physical sense.

Your avatar blinks in slow eyelash bats throughout your expedition. One gets the impression that these signal a passage of time, despite what the radio might suggest. Sure the music does not skip, and the NPR-esque announcer keeps you centered while you travel (even though his words seem oddly and personally specific), but when you are driving these mammoth stretches of asphalt, one hour often morphs into another with no real sense of the passage of time.

Now the hitchhikers themselves cannot be immediately dismissed as figments of imagination. Their conversation is one of purpose; not only for you, but for them as well. By picking them up, you are helping each other to move forward in spiritual discovery. Your purpose for being on these roads is constantly brought into question, and as you are asked this question multiple times, there most likely is not a right answer, just the one the player feels comfortable with.

In the end, you can choose whether your night time excursion has resulted in what you were looking for or not. It makes little difference, as the game ends either way. Glitchhikers sets a tone from its first moments, and anyone who has taken a night drive to be alone with their thoughts will be intimately familiar with the sleepy, hazy, only-radio-for-company picture that is painted.

In the end, it’s not really about the hitchhikers at all.