Saltwrack

The first thing I realize is that it hurts not having a back button. All the visual detail, snippets of backstory, and comments from the people who end up joining my party—what did they say before about the second interpreter? I have to slow down and pay attention. This is a good sign.

The buildup of suspense before my journey helps me prepare, and explains why my character knows so much and feels confident going on this journey in the first place. By the time I get out there, I’m pretty excited to see this saltwrack, as bleak as it is. I see rocks, lichen, iridescent worms. Some tentative connections to our world, maybe? But real-life concerns are just unsettling shapes in my peripheral vision. The saltwrack is overwhelmingly large. I’m getting lost in another world, and I really needed to get lost in another world.

I travel for many minutes/days until, how about that, I walk right up to the ominous location I’ve been searching for. Would you like to enter? the game asks. As I loiter at this choice point, I realize it’s absolutely crucial that this game has no back button.

Whether because of my choices or my groundless expectations, Saltwrack didn’t really feel threatening until it suddenly did, and I was appropriately disoriented, like the horror movie victim who doesn’t realize what they’re dealing with until it’s too late.

Things changed after that. I played a different game, the game of the victim trying to get back to safety. Let’s not worry about the details of my mistakes. I let my guard down, and I paid for it.

But the game eased me back into the real world without punishing me for any missteps. I can feel the emptiness of the routes I didn’t take in a way that echoes the boundlessness of the world I just visited. But the outcome of my adventure feels like mine.

Saltwrack luxuriates in the space between heavy-handed comparison with reality and abstract sci-fi fancy, leaving plenty of room for internal reflection and personal connection with the material. I would call it immersive. I would call it art. I would recommend it for anyone who feels like getting lost in a story, and I will be mining it for ways to improve my own writing. I think it’ll haunt me for a while.