Dear Esther
“I sometimes feel as if I’ve given birth to this island…”
I don’t like to describe games as “walking simulators”, as Dear Esther and others have been so unceremoniously branded. Whether originally intended or not, it’s become a derogatory term used by detractors to mock and belittle, all because they feel their precious hobby is somehow being infected; a disease of “non-games”, against which we must RISE UP!
Unfortunately, like it or not, it remains the recognised term for such titles, and until some smart cookie comes up with something descriptive and pleasant, we’re likely stuck with it.
To that end, for the sake of clarity, Dear Esther is one of those walking simulators you’ve heard so much about. I don’t know if it was necessarily the first, but it certainly took hold more than any other. Evolving from a Source Engine mod into a standalone release, it then, in 2017, reached the true apex of any modern game’s trajectory by being remastered.
To describe Dear Esther in detail would be…well, a severe dick move to prospective players. It is to be experienced, not recounted. It’s spectacularly opaque, and this does wonders for it. As the unidentified protagonist, you’ll fade in on the slipway of a seemingly uninhabited Hebridean island, staring out into the vastness of the Atlantic. Spin around, and you’ll see a lighthouse, cliffs, the beach, and not much else. It’s a striking opening, not least because you’re given not a single instruction (this theme remains throughout your entire journey). You’ll push on because your curiosity compels you to.
From there, you’ll roam the island’s reasonably linear pathways, cresting hills and nosing through caves, all the while accompanied by some incredible ambient audio. Wind spirals through glens, stranded tankers creak, and stalactites drip into subterranean pools with a remarkable faithfulness. Playing the original standalone release and not this year’s update, the visuals may have aged, but a respectful recreation of similar real-life landscapes has kept things surprisingly eye-catching.
This ambience is punctuated occasionally by the narrator. He may or may not be the protagonist, but he’s the source of most of the game’s intrigue. He’ll pipe up with contextual anecdotes, erudite and articulate, though you’ll quickly feel something isn’t as it should be. The tales seem to vary between personal experiences, accounts of a 3rd-party, and even something akin to diary entries from a long-deceased island resident. These personas wrangle with each other throughout the experience, like a scholarly Marshall Mathers having a monologue-off with Slim Shady; sometimes contradictory and sometimes making no sense at all.
That’s how Dear Esther gets you. You could be the most eager buyer of what developer The Chinese Room is selling, but you’ll still feel that first act pang of “Wow, I really am just walking around, aren’t I?” (it really can feel glacier slow). But then you hear comments of a very personal tragedy, of the history of immigrants to the island, of a man succumbing to hideous injury…you’ll start to tease at the threads in your mind, trying to knot them together, all the while trudging along at the most leisurely of paces (it’s here you realise just how deliberate that is. How many other games give you the time to just…think?). Some of your questions will be answered, but most of them won’t. You’re (presumably) no detective; you’re not on this island to solve anything. You’re here to fulfil a purpose, whatever that may be.
The poignant finale is well judged, giving you just enough to feel like you’ve earned it without resorting to an expository contrivance. It could, however, have been handled better in a mechanical sense (an obstructive description I use only to preserve as much of the ending as possible, which’ll hopefully become clear after playing). It also comes in at between 1.5 and 2 hours (98 minutes on my run-through, to be exact), so more of a sack race than a marathon experience.
Yeah: experience. It sure is that. Calling Dear Esther an experience (aside from possibly sounding a bit pompous) feels like the most appropriate description. Spend five minutes on the internet and you’ll know that there are a number of bridges missing their trolls, and they are incensed by the very notion of calling something like this a “game”. Oddly though, I think I agree with them on this. Not out of some misplaced reverence to the notion of “sacred genres”, but because calling it a game does it a disservice. It’s an experience, though one which can sit comfortably under the umbrella of Games (given its lineage, I think we owe it that).
It is, in the most literal sense, quite a change of pace. There are a few other examples from Esther’s wheelhouse knocking around (not least The Chinese Room’s own Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture), but not so many that they don’t still feel dangerous and different. In a world of man-shoots and explosions, or 100 hour+ epics, Dear Esther reminds us that short-form, focused storytelling is still around and very much deserves your attention. It won’t ask for much of your time, but it’ll stick in the memory long after you’ve forgotten about your last 30-hour RPG.
I’ve never played anything quite like it.
