The glowing ball that leads the girl though the levels - levels might be too strong a word for a game this unremittingly linear - is named Glowie. A title card at the beginning of the game reminds us that depression is a serious matter, so I suppose we should infer these characters are struggling with depression.īut Sea of Solitude’s awkward jabs at narrative poetry never connect. Kay has been busy texting with her boyfriend, so she didn’t realize her little brother was being bullied (shadowy ghosts close in around the main character’s little brother). Kay’s boyfriend is closed off and wants his space (a majestic white dog keeps running away as his facade crumbles). Kay’s dad works too hard and feels guilty for not spending enough time with his family (a frustrated black chameleon sputters fire). There’s a fair amount of specificity in the trams and storefronts, which shouldn’t be surprising given that this is basically someone’s diary with monsters as thudding metaphors. The submerged city is modest and European (this is a game made in Germany, about a German girl with the lilt and catch of a German girl’s accent). The art design for the world is probably Sea of Solitude’s strongest visual. They’re videogame monsters, adorned with black feathers for some reason. The creature design attempts a glowering Where the Wild Things Are vibe, but not quite as rambunctious. The only thing that saves it from being dismissed as a walking simulator is that sometimes you’re in a boat.Īt least it looks nice enough, if you cut the footprints some slack. You’re just moving forward while it bends your ear. But it’s pretty clear pretty early that there isn’t going to be any game in Sea of Solitude. You might think there’s a cool game here, especially since it’s from Electronic Arts, a company in the business of making games. Look a bit further and I bet you’ll find some screenshots of big black feathered monsters and abandoned towns surrounded by ocean walls. A huge black fish just under the surface of the water. Sea of Solitude makes for some intriguing screenshots. Is she phase-shifted? Is this a metaphor for being out of sorts with yourself? Or is this just what you get with indie games like Sea of Solitude? A heap of emotional poetry spackled over some half-baked attempt at a game, where lining up footprints doesn’t really matter because the real reason we’re all here is to hear someone hold forth about the life lessons she learned when she was in high school. Whenever she puts a foot down, the footprint appears about two inches to the outside side and a full foot-length behind her. It’s probably not a good sign that some girl is reading from her diary about how her boyfriend is all moody and stuff, but I’m distracted by the fact that her footprints aren’t lining up with her feet.
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