Child of Light: an Interactive Bedtime Story
If the experience of playing Child of Light could be summarised in one word, it would be: intimate. The very beginning of the game sets the mood, with the narrator kicking things off with: “Child. Tuck yourself in bed, And let me tell you a story…”. This frame tale invokes warm memories of bedtime stories (and the opening of The Princess Bride), with the security of a parental figure guaranteeing that no matter how grim things get, everything will be just fine.
First, a quick summary of the story, which will include spoilers. Child of Light follows the young princess Aurora, who is found dead in Austria, 1895, right before Easter Sunday. However, she wakes up in the land of Lemuria, where the Queen of the Night has stolen the Sun, Moon and Stars and hidden them away, leaving the land consumed by darkness and ravaged by her monstrosities. Of course, she wishes to return home, but the mirror that links Lemuria to her home is in the hands of the Queen of the Night, leaving her no choice but to embark on a quest to defeat her.
The set-up clearly sounds like a fairy tale, and is essentially a bildungsroman, a story of growth. The game begins with Aurora waking up in a dark forest, unsure of where to go. The fear and uncertainty in the face of a harsh world is one any child can relate to, and Aurora learns to overcome these challenges and matures. When she obtains the Stars, she gains wings that enable her to fly. When she gains the Moon, she grows from girl to young lady. And after defeating the Queen of the Night and rescuing the Sun, she finally becomes the new Queen of Light, banishing the eternal darkness from Lemuria. Artist Yoshitaka Amano made a beautiful painting inspired by Child of Light, and his words really drive home that bildungsroman element: “When a child is born she must fight against the challenges of the world she lives in. That’s what I wanted to express.” (1) It reminds me of stories like Hansel and Gretel, where young children are thrust into cruel situations and struggle to make their way in the world. Aurora’s journey gives hope, that even the darkest nights can be overcome.
If the fairy tale elements weren’t obvious enough, writer Jeffrey Yohalem made a deliberate decision to build the entire story in an ABCB rhyme scheme similar to that of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, with a couple of couplets for shorter sections of dialogue. In most Role-Playing Games (RPGs), dialogue can often be ignored especially when it’s just variations of “please get X for me”, but Yohalem’s choice made me pay attention to every line of text, as I was aware that each line was carefully crafted. The effect reinforced the idea of the game being a bedtime story, with myself a child hanging on to every word, eager to find out what happens next.
As with any bedtime story, there is always some interaction between parent and child; the child might ask, “and then what did she do!?”, or the parent may say, “what do you think happened next?”. The interactivity of the medium allows for such moments to flourish. For instance, many combat encounters are optional; Aurora’s companion Igniculus can stun enemies to allow her to slip past them or launch a preemptive strike, with the option completely left to the player. However, this does not apply to boss fights, where Aurora must triumph in order to advance the plot. This recognises that bedtime stories are slightly malleable, with every child having their own version of the protagonist. Some non-plot essential details can be altered here and there, such as how many battles Aurora chose to engage in on the side, but key plot points are non-negotiable, such as Aurora ultimately defeating the Queen of the Night.
An interesting malleable element of the game is that many party members are optional. For instance, Rubella the jester can be completely ignored for the entire game if the player chooses not to talk to her. As for other characters like Robert the archer and Oengus the soldier, they join Aurora for a short while before splitting off to pursue their own goals, leaving it up to the player whether they wish to aid them and later gain their assistance. Personally, I didn’t like this option at first, as Aurora did not seem like one who would abandon those in need. But, I eventually accepted that that was my version of Aurora’s tale; others might decide that Aurora bade those characters farewell, thanking them for their help thus far as each left to pursue their objectives. In any case, the game in itself contains the possibilities for various retellings of the tale, in the same way that stories can change depending on who tells them.
Unlike a book, an art style and music are crucial to video games. To match the storytelling, Child of Light went with an art style inspired by the Golden Age of Illustration, well known for producing gorgeous illustrations for children’s books and preserving a good number of folktales. As explained by Creative Director Patrick Plourde, “The illustrated feel also complemented the storybook-like ballad used to tell the story” (2), which again hearkens back to bedtime storytelling, where illustrations may be shown to a child to stimulate his imagination and lead him further into the text. There is also a nostalgia invoked to the picture books of childhood, to a time when things were more carefree, which deepens the immersion into the tale by appealing to one’s inner child.
Speaking of children, the soundtrack was greatly influenced by a newborn. Composed by Beatrice Martin, also known as Coeur de Pirate, the game’s main theme was “totally inspired by [her] daughter” (3). Being unable to direct relate to Aurora, Martin projected her daughter onto her for the main theme. The melody of that theme runs throughout the game, with its impact strengthened by the fact that Aurora herself plays it. After meeting the Lady of the Forest, Aurora receives a flute, not understanding what it’s for. The first time she uses it is when she meets Finn, whose village has been cursed by the Queen of the Night and turned into crows. The only way to break the curse is to draw the Water of Lethe from deep within the village well, but Finn is too afraid to venture down alone, and can do nothing but cry over his powerlessness. It is then that Aurora plays the melody from her flute, calming Finn down and giving him the courage to take a step forward. The flute melody is played at other similar moments, when things seem the darkest, imbuing those who listen to it with hope and spurring them to action. Perhaps the theme is an audible reminder that things will be alright, a reassurance not to give up no matter how cruel the world may be.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed my playthrough of Child of Light, although I felt that the ending was a little rushed. After defeating the Queen of the Night, the game goes to a cutscene telling about how Aurora saved her Austrian subjects from a flood by bringing them into Lemuria. I think the pacing could be improved by letting Aurora and her pals celebrate the victory for a short while before jumping into the rescue, but, I like how the game ends with the closing of it’s frame tale, savouring the note of triumph with hearts full of hope. Till the next adventure.
“Now, my dear, the fire has died.
The night is dark and deep.
Close your eyes, let go
And drift off to sleep.”
References
- Steinman, Gary (2014–04–07) Child of Light — Amano Artwork. Ubisoft. Retrieved 2018–02–24; https://news.ubisoft.com/article/child-of-light-amano-artwork-video
- Diver,Mike (2015–04–10) Exploring the Award-Winning Art of ‘Lumino City’ and ‘Child of Light’. Vice. Retrieved 2018–02–24; https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/mvxqnq/exploring-the-award-attracting-art-of-lumino-city-and-child-of-light-114
- Ship, Jesse; Cœur de Pirate: Brave Heart. Noisey, Vice. Retrieved 2018–02–24; https://noisey.vice.com/en_ca/article/r7p5db/coeur-de-pirate-child-of-light-ubisoft-release-interview
