I know very little about addiction besides fiction and several medical details, so my thoughts will always be half-baked. Nevertheless, I found this portrayal empathetic and the allegory of knight-monster-king drives the message home for me.
I’m also fond of how the text flickers like a burning lightbulb. Almost like, addiction is a boogeyman regardless of where you stand: for the narrator, it’s the monster that tempts them; for the king and anyone else, it’s the monster that scares people away. It feels like the only way to actually defeat the monster is to understand it, to shine an actual permanent light on it and give support to the knight besides the king (who would have other obligations to do).
I thought this title was really good and I hope more people play it.
This was a wonderful and precious title that captures the awkwardness of encounters that feel like they should mean a whole lot. And yet, they are reminders of how the wrong time and wrong place make the absences and voids much stronger.
I found this a difficult yet pleasing title to read in both English and Japanese. Both are different in interesting ways. This linguistic experiment is thought-provoking at the very least.
At the very end of the work, I thought the story was hard to follow but intentionally so. It reflects the fragmentation of identity, of language, and of life itself. I guess if broken memories are stitched together, one form it could’ve taken is this visual novel. Translating trauma is not an enviable task, but I think this captures a bit of what it’s like to live with one.
Anyone interested in stories exploring trauma should take a look at this game. You don’t have to love the game or the story in order to appreciate what this title is doing. There’s something lovely about figuring out what makes Ochitsubaki tick, even if everything doesn’t pan out for me. Trauma is always worth investigating and it’s likely the subject matter that requires the most experimental design anyway.
What a beautiful, enigmatic game. This captures something beautiful about how we remember and grieve without belittling or romanticizing it. I really love this.
Didn’t expect you to post a comment on this game :-)
That took me a while to write and edit because I got pretty nauseous. I think what I ended up works really well for what it is without sensationalizing what happened.
Definitely one of my proudest moments figuring this out, so thanks for playing the game :-)
Oh my god, this rules. The ending is sooooo perfect: it’s what I really want to see in a story about relationships during coronavirus pandemic – no romanticism but a longing already complicated by previous events.
This was a fun game to test. The puzzles are pretty interesting since they ask you to explore the details of the room through restarts. Definitely looking forward to your next titles :-)
You might be right about making games that are more “difficult to relate to”. I remember the feeling I had when I made my first game, Hanna: I just wanted to put something out that is hyper-specific and I don’t really care if people found it “relatable” or whatever because it exists.
I’ve always been interested in reading stories where empathy is a challenge. If one is able to embrace the most unlikable characters and see what connects with them, then it becomes more than Just A Work. Most of my favorite works, especially ones on Itch, are the stuff I’ve never experienced, but I realize that’s a real and visceral event. Finding myself in different shoes is discomforting, yet it’s so familiar at the same time. That’s what I find most exciting in writing a story.
This comment is honestly enlightening. I also share the “if the story is niche and people still connect to it, it’s awesome” feeling. Thanks for writing this as well as explaining what makes the story click for you :-)
I was talking to friends how this game made all of us feel this: we think the game might go there, the game does go there, and we’re still surprised by it.
That shows how much writing chops you’ve had. Great stuff.
