From band practice, to corpse poking - A Night in the Woods lets you live your best teen life.
The game takes place in your home town of Possum springs- where you return after an abortive stay at collage to find the bus station deserted and no one there to pick you up.
Your parents claim to have forgotten and look terribly sorry when you arrive home knackered and dishevelled in the middle of the night, but after a few minutes alone with Mae, you can see why they weren’t in a rush. The acerbic jibes and cheeky retorts are fun, but she does seem like a ‘small doses’ kind of cat.
In fact, as the game trundles on and time passes it becomes more and more obvious Mae has no intentions of getting a job or contributing to the house in any meaningful way and is in fact a bit of a mooch. You start wanting to apologise for her. For the snitty way you talk to her mum, the childish manner she deals with friendships. Only you can’t apologise, because there isn’t a dialogue option for that. You can only trail off, or yell “gaggahahh.”
It is here the supporting cast really pick up the slack. Whether it’s the bipolar crocodile, the criminal bestie or his long-suffering boyfriend, there will be one cartoon cretin you are happy to seek out and they provide enough rounded character if Mae starts to chafe. Which is just as well- you are essentially a social butterfly buffeted from one windscreen to another and 90% of the game is chatting. The other 10% are the Wario-ware mini games that go with it.
Want to smash up a car with Gary? Terrorise punters at the mall? Shoplift? All well and good. Each little caveat fleshes out the main narrative and uncovers more of Mae’s backstory. What actually DID happen at college?
In some stages, the game mutates from straight point and click to something more platformy. Don’t fret. The Super Mario genes are recessive and only really pop up sporadically. On each occasion, these mechanics are sound and controls responsive. Besides, it’s largely optional and if you really want to spend your day up Possum Spring’s telephone wires, that’s up to you. Parkour makes for an interesting diversion in an otherwise linear experience, but it’s not your reflexes that are being tested here.
It's your emotional resilience.
Anyone in a similar position to Mae will find the game hits close to home.
For anyone stuck in a rut, struggling with dissociation BPD or some other mental illness that makes them disconnected from friends and family and daily tasks, this is a welcome portrayal of their struggle. One of the key developers, sound designer Alec Holowka struggled with dissociation himself, it’s quite tastefully presented here. The game is kept from being too real by its art style and bestial characters; no matter how much you relate to Mae’s struggles, she is still a 2-dimensional kitten and you’re a flesh glob. Distance is good.
Reminiscent of Mae’s own inherent sense of doom, the game marches grimly from cradle to grave from the moment you start. The end of all things is foreshadowed before you even leave the train station.
The end of all things is foreshadowed nightly in your dreams.
Ghosts build on the haunted tune as you go along- until finally the diorama of colour and sound explodes and you awake, to sunlight and the same six cheery chords, to live the Groundhog day cycle through again.
Be it ghosts, dead bodies or missing children, death has an omniscience in Possum springs, and in many ways, it makes Mae’s idle, meaningless day to day even more frustrating. Life’s short and she’s frittering it.
And that’s probably the point.
Her deep-seated psychological issues mean she is very aware how limited that time is. And yet she she’s unable to do anything worthwhile with it. She can’t concentre, can’t focus on a job. Can’t decide what she wants to do, and so cannot lay any plans for the future. She is stuck in a rut.
As is the player.
You can’t say what you want, because the dialogue options eventually corner you into saying something disrespectful and petty or just trailing off. You can’t go where you want because the road literally runs out. (Well, it hasn’t been repaired yet. )
Clever.
Here, Night school force you to identify with its flawed lead character. Even if you don’t want to. She can’t help but say the wrong things. She can’t escape her roots. She is cursed to potter aimlessly, day in day out around the same 3 screens.
Luckily, this never becomes a chore. Pay attention to Possum springs and its cast of characters, each one has an evolving narrative. Games such as Animal Crossing may condone “a chat with the neighbours” but very rarely give much in the way of character development, often relying on your own imagination to flesh them out. Oh, Jeremiah the bullfrog fancies a plaid sweater, does he? I found a tartan one in the bushes for him yesterday, and suddenly that’s not good enough? Jesus Christ, he’s a spend -a-holic- the guy must have BPD.
No such flights of fancy needed here. It’s all there in the script. You become invested in the call centre employees, as they huddle outside for their daily coffee break, discussing job promotions and escapes elsewhere, then gradually melt away to better or worse places. You silently wish them well. Or maybe you break into an after hours poetry slam, only to see that the haiku loving bear takes his hobby MUCH more seriously than you ever thought. Just as classics like Stardew valley reward players for delving deep and talking to the same characters day after day, Night in the Woods attempts to make Possum Springs much more fleshed out than it’s flat 2D graphics may have you imagine.
Further dimension is added by the score.
Be it the catchy ditties you massacre at band practice (there must be ways to get the perfect score in the minigame, but my dyspraxic noodle fingers were unable to reach it) or the haunting dream tune, you will be humming these ear worms long after the final credits roll.
About 5 hours after you started.
Night in the Woods may be a small game, but it’s one that does not overstay its welcome at the time, but marinates in the memory for weeks to come. It also has hefty replay value as there are only so many hours in Mae’s day and it’s impossible to do everything in one go. The final act itself ditches the formula entirely and becomes a hectic sprint for the final credits, as action unfolds and you are never quite sure when, or in what form, the end will come.
It’s certainly a conversation starter. I’ve managed to bang on about it for three straight pages. Imagine the delight you’ll be at house parties if you can regale your friends with these anecdotes and views.
I rate any game with this much to talk about and this much charm.
8/10
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