I liked the idea and premise of the whole thing, at first. The prose attempted to be pretty and it was, in some parts. However in other parts it was rather stale; and the disjoint between the two made for a rather jarring read. The content, in my opinion, wasn't presented or approached with enough sensitivity or nuance for this work to have accurately represented the plight and experiences of refugees, which are an important topic in today's world otherwise. This work inspired more apathy in me than the empathy it likely had set out in the first place to elicit.
I'm not sure. There wasn't much in the way of gameplay mechanics to be excited about either. The writing felt very inauthentic to me, which I can empathize with, given that I often struggle with the same thing. Perhaps this could be better with more research; or the author could've chosen a different topic to explore.
I loved this.
I've always had a tendency of railing against the traditional narrative experience in my reading and (most especially) in my writing. In my view, the point of prose is to deliver an accurate representation of reality (or any reality, fantastical or slightly-less-than, as you would have it), and reality's always shifting, to me. It always presents a myriad of options and is often beyond the writer's grasp. Therefore I frequently get bothered by the dialogue in some writing pieces, such as when a character says something and then the other replies with something of its own — and I'm like, wait, why would they have given that reply, when there was something else they were this % more likely to have said? (Ah, me. Assigning percentages of probability to people's responses in fiction. I would make a better computer programmer than writer, although I suck at writing enough already.) Some people might say that's just due to the dialogue being unrealistic. But, in my point of view, well, we all have different experiences of reality, right?
So how to resolve this? Well, skillful manipulation of some type or version of procedural generation, such as was seen in this game, is one way. And it's a good way. I loved the dissonance and atmosphere of whimsy created by the author's choice of words and the machine's mixing of them in a short walk in the spring. Some people might note that this actually makes the writing seemingly veer off into the bizarre and nonsensical territory, but I'd argue that this is a better representation of reality than most works. I don't know how other people 'experience' reality, but for me it's definitely not in ways of straight prose and predetermined decisions. This style captures it much better. To the extent it feels homey to an extent, for me. Natural.
Besides that, I also enjoyed the thematic use of 'spring' (which I always do whenever any markers of time — seasons, weekdays, hours — are used as an important element in creative work — it gives the work a certain poetic quality) in this game. The storyline seems so mundane on the surface — (Spoiler - click to show)a traveler embarking on adventures to honor a dead friend, or in this case, so they can meet with a dead friend's ghost (it's all a bit of the same thing at the end, isn't it?) — but this work does a perfect job of portraying that experience, of relaying the narrator's feelings and the comings and goings of his world, his memories to us, the readers, the players, so that we could understand and interpret them, and by extension, him.
Overall, highly lovely work. Give it a try if you haven't already. Have some patience — it actually took me two playthroughs to get into it — the first time I closed it almost immediately upon reading the first two 'pages' (transmuted by a click in-between), but the second time, when I bothered to play it through, it grabbed hold of my interest and I eventually went back to replay the game a third time.
A game centered on the pursuit of light and finding your way out of the darkness.
The interface was very smooth, and I liked the idea of 'recycling' links. It felt very intuitive to me and even fun to go back and see how the content of each link changed over time in the game. This is my first time encountering links being used like this in interactive fiction. I wish more games could employ the same/a similar style — push the boundaries beyond the known, y'know?
If I'm honest, I almost did end up tearing up at the last couple pages. Some might find the content too sedate or cheesy, and the emotional experience for sure isn't going to be all that there for everyone, but I personally connected very well with both its gameplay and message overall.
(Spoiler - click to show)It was also very nice how the page darkened/lightened in tandem with where the player character was in-game. I found that particular touch very immersive, and it's the second work I've encountered that makes use of this effect — the subtle changing of the page visuals in relation to variations of time/place within a work — the first being Perihelion, by Tim White, which I also only just came upon earlier today — and I find that I like it very much. Opposed to, I don't know, say for example a new background image or the such in response to the player moving from place to place in other games — the changes in these games are so small, so subtle — even barely-there, I guess you could say — that I don't find them as disruptive (or jarring) as automated visual changes usually are (in my experience) — quite the opposite, in fact, I find they enhance the effects of the game quite a great deal for me.