First of all, I'm incredibly grateful to have stumbled upon this through another developer's favourites. I'm not really on YouTube and mostly find out about new games via friends' recommendations, Steam, or websites that post reviews, so I don't think I would have found this otherwise. I went into it essentially blind, save for the warning that there would be "horror elements" on the game's page.
The dialogue in this game is exceptional. So good I was taking notes, both as a writer and for future conversations. I was completely swept along by the first half, and a funny thing I noticed as I played on was that I wasn't scared for Angel's safety, exactly, as I would be in another game. I was worried that what was happening was too good to be true, and that something, at some point, was going to ruin this relationship that I was now wildly invested in. Lee and Angel's chemistry is fantastic, and the tiny moments that build tension, like the simple ability to switch the garage light on and off and be enveloped in total darkness, or the first moment you walk up into the creepy-looking hallway, were so well done. It was doubly interesting to then be presented the choice to hold on to the illusion of the relationship I thought was being formed or let it go in the final choice.
EXPLICIT SPOILERS BELOW. Also it's quite long.
I don't want to be the player who goes into a clearly labelled and warned-for horror game and then complains about finding horror in it. I spent the past week binging, among other things, Porpentine's backlog; I can handle transgressive awfulness and I like to think I'm capable of sometimes seeing the beauty in it.
I think my problem was that I initially thought the game was doing something much more unusual and unique.
I thought I was being told a certain story about things that seem dangerous or "creepy" on an instinctive level to the average person, and how that relates to disability, mental illness and neurodivergence. The conversations on spiders, on angels and on the taxidermied stingray all seemed to reinforce that.
I thought part of the point of Adri in the story was that she's so bubbly, so easy to like—and then she has a thoughtless, throwaway comment about Lee being a basketcase, because even fun and likeable people will look at someone who doesn't behave the way they think people should behave and other them for it.
So often things that are actually harmless read as strange, creepy, or freakish to the general population, who then react not just with cruelty, but with cruelty they feel good about because rejecting what is repugnant feels righteous. And consequently, often those fundamentally harmless but "creepy" things are played for horror in stories, because what could be easier than playing off the basic instinct to flinch when you see something disgusting? Who cares why it's disgusting you, when your gut says it's repulsive?
You can see this so often, with both physical and mental disability and how it's portrayed across the entire horror genre. What looks bad is bad. What feels wrong is wrong.
And I thought this story was a subversion/deconstruction of that. I assume the taxidermy, for instance, was a deliberate reference to Psycho. The implication in the original movie: shouldn't she have known that someone who keeps dead animals around is a freak who can't be trusted? Don't you know someone who makes you uncomfortable in a conversation might stab you in the shower later? Trust your instincts.
So to watch the taxidermy scene instead unfold so gently in the story, adding more humanity to both characters, seemed to be a deliberate middle finger to that entire concept. So did the way Lee, who's awkward and undersocialized, was absolutely meticulous about consent, respect and boundaries. I think it was genuinely one of my favourite gaming experiences I've ever had.
Until you get to the first reveal.
I accepted the shrine, my first playthrough. I had to stare at the screen a long time, and weigh the fact that this happened against Angel's trauma, and what it would mean to now accept someone violating their boundaries in an entirely different way. I think the shrine scene in general was incredibly well done; Angel's positive response comes across as measured and understandable. The explanation of the doll is genuinely sweet, as they said. You can see where Angel's coming from when they decide to keep trying. I went back later to pick the other option, and it's impressive that both accepting and rejecting Lee in that moment both feel equally powerful and earned—I loved Angel's monologue about deserving to be treated better than this, too.
On my initial Acceptance playthrough I retrieved the jacket, mostly by accident, and still wasn't shaken, because again, these are the ugly, private parts of ourselves that can come out when we're lonely. It's creepy, but it isn't inherently hurting anyone beyond the violation of Angel's trust, and Angel, at this point, has already chosen to try to keep trusting Lee will respect their boundaries from now on. There's a way forward.
And then it turns out there's been a body in the basement all along, and I really lost the plot.
The first time I felt a disconnect with Angel's dialogue was when I pressed Reject this time, and the actual act of murder and torture wasn't mentioned at all. The focus was entirely on whether they can trust Lee to properly cover up the murder, with a side of being angry he did it without permission.
The general idea that there is something inherently wrong with killing another human being, even a human being who's done terrible things, isn't even touched on. The idea that even if you've decided to kill someone as a sort of fucked up harm reduction policy, that torture specifically is never justified, is again not even mentioned.
It felt like a bit of a slap in the face when so much of the story up to that point had seemed to be about humanizing people who are societally dehumanized, the idea that someone could grow or change if given the chance. Radical empathy for me but not for thee, I guess.
And yeah, we're talking about an absolute douchebag, a rapist who doesn't even realize he is one, a coward who made Angel's life hell and barely noticed. Still torture. Still an assumption that there is no redemption arc possible for a certain kind of human, and that the correct response to that kind of person is to maximize their suffering and then let society be rid of them. The fact that others would draw that line, happily and easily, at the revelation of Lee's shrine? At the jacket? Ignored.
There's also the existence of the murder in the plot (and to a lesser extent, the shrine) in the first place. Without the level of care, nuance, and understanding shown toward ADHD and about the mental health care system in general, I feel like I would have brushed the game off entirely as another story where oh, look, the weird guy with weird interests and a flat affect is actually a stalker and murderer. All the social vibes that make people uncomfortable around him were read correctly, actually! You can't trust someone like that. They're a danger to others.
But there is that level of empathy and understanding shown toward mental health before that point, so mostly I'm left confused. It turns out the story I thought was being told about mental illness, weirdness and marginalization wasn't being told at all. I'm not sure which story actually was, what it meant, or what I was supposed to get out of it.
I enjoyed the game regardless. I imagine I'll go back to it, for that first half of the story and its intimacy if nothing else, and I'm glad I played it. I'll be following your future work, if you ever decide to release any. I just can't help wishing this game was touching on the themes I thought it was at first.