| Average Rating: Number of Reviews Written by IFDB Members: 6 |
This game has you come to your partner’s door only to find that you have been cast out! The relationship has unilaterally been declared to be over.
What can you do? There really aren’t many options, due to the coldheartedness of your partner. Even talking only works once. This ends up being similar to one move games, but you get several chances to figure out what you can do.
This game is polished. I found no bugs and many custom responses, even with obscure commands like “push me” being blocked off to ensure consistent responses. It was fairly descriptive with regards to the people. Interactivity was natural, with many responses being implemented and subtle suggestions pushing you towards new actions.
Emotional impact was dampened a bit. We’re not told why everything happened. Did we cheat? Did our partner get a job in Beirut? Are we 14? I like to suspend disbelief and immerse myself in characters, but I didn’t have much to grab onto here.
The game is short, so I likely wouldn’t play it again. So I’m giving 3 stars. The workmanship is great, and the game seems to accomplish the author’s goals, but every audience member interacts with a work differently, and for me I’m more of a sucker for story and plot than character and personality, and longer or unique interactions over small bites of classic interactions.
This one is rough, emotionally. Your partner (Heron) is breaking up with you (Tiel), and you are NOT taking it well. Your goal is to change eir mind. There are several implemented strategies to try, ranging from the desperate to the manipulative to the despicable.
The world feels deeply implemented. Of particular note is that taking inventory gets the response You are carrying nothing but a broken heart. You can then examine the heart. That’s the kind of detail work I love in a parser. “Undo” also has a poignant response in place of its usual function. There are a few disambiguation moments that could be smoother—both your and Heron’s hands are implemented, and doing something to “hands” doesn’t default to Heron’s, unlike most other actions.
One thing that didn’t quite work for me was that trying one of the “game ending actions” precluded trying any of the others. The picture I’d built of Tiel in my mind was of someone who wasn’t about to take ‘no,’ and that he takes one particular ‘no’ over another doesn’t quite hit for me. On my first play I tried to kiss Heron, and then after ey rejected me finally I tried crying—a reasonable response in my mind’s version of Tiel’s mind. But I was told I couldn’t do that and must simply leave. I know the suggestion does risk a bit of combinatorial explosion and a less tight form, but unique responses for those kinds of pathetic or petty reactions after the goal is already lost would go a long way for me.
It’s a very short game, and worth playing multiple times to explore all of the options. It knows what it wants to do and does it well. The author’s notes say it’s based on a game from last year’s Anti-Romance Jam—I may have to check that one out next.
How Dare You? has a cringeworthy premise: you show up at the home of our partner, Heron, who communicates very clearly that it’s over and you should leave. Yet…
…No, you can’t. You’ve got to convince em to change eir mind. You just have to show em how much ey means to you. How much you care.
- Sophia de Augustine, July 6, 2024
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