(Review originally written for MAY WOLF 2024)

(Note: major spoilers)

Bold in concept, well-written, with a clarity of purpose to every element that I dare say surpasses most of the competition.

The pacing is economic despite the work essentially consisting of a single scene and an epilogue; it has the confidence to linger in its images and characterize the narrator with subtle mentions of backstory. Seeing that the word count matched the game jam's lower limit, I expected to see more padding, but there's not much here that feels completely extraneous. In terms of presentation, Spaghetti uses both of its two (!) image assets to a great effect: the former's nightmarish mood is effectively realized via digital artifacts and stark colors, and it provides a nice contrast to the mundane photorealism and the offbeat composition of the latter. There is really nothing to add or nothing to change: the concept is executed perfectly.

What is off screen is as important, of course. The spaghetti – in this context most obviously recalling Lady and the Tramp – curiously lacks a visual representation, only being present  in the text via its absence, making it a fitting symbol for the protagonist's self-sabotage. No matter how hard it tries, the narrative cannot even bring itself to reveal the supposed centerpiece of the whole thing. This angle is emphasized even further by the Itch page containing a prominent image of the titular dish wholly absent from the work itself, as if a mere paratextual demon haunting it.

The transformation the motif goes through is equally interesting. What lies in front of the narrator is first ambiguously revealed as "not spaghetti" before the game settles on "popcorn", positioning the protagonist simultaneously as an audience to and an actor in the infernal dreamscape conjured from their feelings of guilt and shame. This self-inflicted mental anguish, the work suggests, can be thought of as a kind of private performance where they're portrayed a victim of incomprehensible circumstances, rationalizing their fundamentally nonrational behavior.

On the other hand, it's also a punishment. The self of the narrator is partitioned, the other half comprehending the other's transgressions ("But I always do that. I’m always lying. ... I don’t know what I expected from myself.") but lacking the power to stop them. Spaghetti hell, then, acts as a form of unconscious justice the protagonist inflicts on themselves.

The wolf is an equally deep image. Fourth-wall breaking references to the furry fandom paint it as an object of desire, a fantasy (and, in literal terms, a dream) made real. The text's insistence on its unreality, then, can be read as another manifestation of guilt – even in an escapist environment devoid of consequences, the protagonist cannot allow themselves the carnal pleasures embodied by both MYWOLF and, through food–sex-dualism, the dish the couple is having. How the wolf is specifically and pointedly described as "two-dimensional" further emphasizes the gap between the narrator and other subjects: they are so skeptical of their ability to recognize the equally rich inner lives of others that they're startled MYWOLF is capable of speech.

Worth mentioning is also how the 2D sprite graphics traditionally employed by both visual novels and video games in general are here recontextualized as ontologically suspect, unattainable illusions. The genius of this move is the ambiguity of whether it is criticizing escapism on the whole or the protagonist's woes: it is their own self-deprecation that renders them unable to partake in the most likely harmless fantasy of enjoying a bowl of spaghetti with a wolf.

If you're in the mood for nitpicks, the lack of audio feels like a missed opportunity in a work this formally sharp, and the jam's theme is not present in any self-evident way. Sticking to the defaults of Ren'py with the UI doesn't read as a flaw to me, though, given how deeply Spaghetti is in conversation with its genre – framing it as just another furry visual novel feels right.

Let the masses know that there is no hint of irony in my bones when I declare Spaghetti to be one of the best entries in the game, a compelling exercise in formal minimalism not wasting a single pixel that doubles as a sharp psychological portrait.