This War of Mine
The Sims: Civil War Edition
You think you’re going to come out the other side of a This War of Mine campaign unscathed? Your soul sterile and virginal? Think again. Try as you might to remain whiter-than-white during this most bleak of titles, if you want to survive, sooner or later you’ll find yourself doing something you’re not proud of.
This is not a game you’ll stick on after a bottle of White Lightning and some Hula Hoops (that’s what Rocket League’s for*). It is not a game to enjoy. If I’m completely frank, just two paragraphs into this article, it’s not even a particularly good “game”. It does, however, carry an important message and make a significant statement about the oft-unspoken reality of living through war. Its worth to you will be measured by your willingness to put aside its many flaws and allow it to tell its tale.
*Not judging; I’ve been there. And Rocket League’s fucking amazing.
Let’s deal with those bare bones first. At its core, TWoM is an awkward combination of management sim and stealth-platformer. You’ll start with a group of three “housemates”, unwilling participants in the shittest Big Brother house of all time, picking out an existence in the fictional city of Porgoren during civil war (the game was inspired by survivor stories from the Bosnian War, so the city is a fairly obvious Sarajevo stand-in). This is a game about war, but not the war gamers have had shoved down their throats for the past few decades. You and your congregation may be in the thick of it, in constant danger, but you’re far from the front lines.
By day, you spend your time in your base of operations (which happens to be a burned out, barely standing husk of a building), tending to the various mundanities that will, with a little luck, keep you alive. You’ll board up the holes caused by localised shelling, collect rainwater to filter into something drinkable, even grab a nap if you’re sleepy or feeling under the weather (and can ignore the ambient gunfire). This is where The Sims comparison is most stark: the survivors need to be told to eat, to craft, to gather etc., though thankfully not to pee (no walling up your toons until they piss themselves and die, sadism fans). All of this is far from simple, however, thanks to a clunky interface that’ll have you wrestling with your characters like Robin Williams restraining Flubber. On top of this, you’ll also have to contend with invisible and sometimes arbitrary “health” meters for each resident, ensuring they’re well nourished, rested, even emotionally stable.
As management goes, it’s all fairly rudimentary. Come night-time, however, and things get a little more…interesting.
Night-time is when one lucky housemate gets to head out into the big bad city and scavenge other buildings, while the others get some sleep or stand guard. This is accomplished through the medium of basic stealth and platforming mechanics, where, after selecting a location from the city map, you’ll creep around and rummage through the rubble. This is wartime, though; you’re not the only ones trying to scrape by, so it’ll be no surprise to hear that residents of other buildings can be rather protective of their stuff. So you sneak around and steal, you take what you can from piles of rubble, or you can even trade if they’re willing (not everyone is hostile to you, though most will have their boundaries). There’s a basic bartering system where you’ll swap goods for…other goods, and you can benefit from some characters having a preference for certain products.
Of course, there’s secret option number four: kill everyone and loot their still-warm corpses. This is a viable, if difficult, tactic, though you’ll find that your greatest enemy is the cack-handed combat system rather than the opponents themselves. Weapons can range from an innocent shovel right up to pistols and rifles you’ve found (or more likely crafted after sacrificing numerous resources). Use them well, and you’ll have the run of the building, able to pilfer as much as your backpack can carry (FYI: not much).
Hmm, this is starting to sound familiar, isn’t it? I mean, it sounds like shooting up the place is the most straightforward solution, just like all those other games; I thought This War of Mine was supposed to be different? Why can’t I just hack and slash my way through my supply-and-demand issues?
Because it’ll affect you, that’s why. Christ, you’ll care. That’s “you: The Player” and “you: The Characters”. Everything has a cost. And all of you will suffer the consequences. This War of Mine’s portrayal of vulnerability and fragility is among the most impressive I’ve seen in this medium, and it uses this power to torment you. Endlessly.
Take the coughing, spluttering wreck of a man who chaps your door, begging you to let him stay. He’s an additional human resource, sure, but here? He’ll be a burden; another mouth to feed; another body to keep healthy. Yeah, each character carries a moderately desirable trait, but being a good cook isn’t much use when you don’t have two chicken legs to scrape together. We slammed the door in his face. I felt awful for days.
What about Matey, purveyor of supplies at his now-defunct garage? His father’s ill, he’ll tell you, and he’ll pay you handsomely for medical supplies like bandages and pills. Assuming you have some decent stuff, trading is useful, affording you items you might not otherwise be able to procure. But what if you don’t have what he wants, or he’s not selling that one thing you need, desperately? After a few scouting visits, I succumbed, sneaking into the garage’s back rooms and raiding his dying father’s cabinets. He was old, he’d die soon, I was sure of it, and we had three people back at the shack who wouldn’t last much longer and oh God what am I saying? Even with the ill-gotten gains, my return the next morning was far from triumphant, with each housemate lamenting “their” actions, that little piece of humanity we’d lost by screwing someone over. Mechanically, this means they drop down on the ‘sadness’ scale, where plummeting far enough can result in depression, refusal to follow orders…even suicide. Yes, you’re technically managing levels again, but this one never feels like busywork. God help you if you ever send one of your survivors to kill someone…
This War of Mine is full of these events and choices, both dynamic and scripted, and I won’t spoil any others here. It should be said that the world isn’t randomly generated, so you’re likely to come across the same scenarios each time you play, and this can certainly lessen their impact. Unavoidably, too, the more proficient you become, the more you’ll be able to ‘game’ the systems, meaning your ‘best’ playthrough may be your least affecting. You are, however, encouraged to replay, becoming more competent and efficient as you go. Time-wise, you’re talking between five and ten hours for a long playthrough, though your first few will likely result in miserable failure while you’re finding your feet, so it’s worth powering through them. Lastly, do be wary of the save-scum-preventing auto-save, which kicks in only when you return from scavenging each night, meaning a mid-day save won’t be possible.
So, much like the conflict that rages in the background of This War of Mine, there are two warring factions in this title. The fact that it is so conflicted is hair-tearingly frustrating, as it never quite escapes the weight of that wheezing old engine or poorly-implemented mechanics. Put simply, you need to ask yourself if you think it’s worth having a masterpiece hanging in an ugly frame. Because make no mistake, look past its many issues and you will be rewarded. Not in the traditional sense, or even necessarily in the way you’d expect, but you’ll be glad to have listened to the game say its piece; make its point. It fulfils its purpose in spite of itself. Perhaps it should never have been a game at all…
