Within this framework, all that\u2019s left for you to do is explore. Observe. Listen. And take in. The game is split into five main areas of uneven size (which are gradually unlocked for easy access from the main menu once you\u2019ve reached them in the game), and while it ![\"Breaking](\"https:\/\/grafskaya.club\/mysst\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/05\/breaking-the-clouds.jpg\" "\\"Breaking")
<\/a>It\u2019s a little difficult to say what Dear Esther<\/i> really is. On the one hand, it\u2019s been presented and advertised as a game, from indie developer thechineseroom, but you\u2019ll quickly realise that there\u2019s not much actual gaming<\/i> involved. I guess \u2018semi-interactive art film\u2019 would be a better definition. And I would be lying if I said that that wasn\u2019t somewhat disappointing: I went in expecting some sort of Myst<\/i>-like adventure, but ended up with something very different instead. However, I would also be lying if I said I wasn\u2019t affected at all. Quite the contrary, actually, due to a mix of haunting music, lovely visuals and some heartbreaking writing, which all mesh together to form a peculiarly mesmerizing atmosphere.<\/p>\n<\/a>The premise is simple, if somewhat mystifying, especially in hindsight. You are put in the shoes (read: first-person view) of an unknown character, appearing on a stone jetty in front of a lighthouse on a forlorn island in the Hebrides. The game greets you with a voiceover: a man reading a letter to the \u201cDear Esther\u201d of the title. And from there, you\u2019re essentially left to your own devices. Except that all you can do is walk. You can\u2019t jump, you can\u2019t run (that one can get especially aggravating at times, when you have long distances to cross), you can\u2019t even interact with your environment. No picking things up or twiddling with buttons, levers or what have you. You do have a flashlight, but that automatically turns on whenever you enter a darkened environment. Player agency? Yeah, not the game\u2019s strong point.<\/p>\n<\/a>One thing you can<\/i> do besides walking is swim, but that only sees limited use in some specific situations. If you just try to swim off the island, there\u2019s only so far you can go before the game\u2013rather distressingly, I might add\u2013forces you to go under and respawn on the shore. Which makes sense, I guess: that water must be awfully cold. That said, do try it out at least once. Trust me.<\/p>\n<\/a>does keep some autosaves, you can also save wherever you like. The voiced narrative is your guiding line, popping up at predetermined spots on the island. All excerpts of letters to Esther, explaining the backstory piece by piece. The developers did pull a neat little trick here, however, to add replayability. Several different texts may trigger at the same spot, and the game randomly chooses one. And no, you can\u2019t walk away and come back to hear a different one: you\u2019d have to reload a save or play the game again. This allows for a slightly different perspective on the story each time.<\/p>\n<\/a>The essentials are in place fairly quickly: Esther is the narrator\u2019s wife, and she is dead. How she died, what surrounded and followed this event, and, ultimately, why you\u2019re on this island (and exactly who the character you\u2019re controlling is supposed to be), I will leave you to experience for yourself. Because this is the heart of the game. And it\u2019s beautiful, if unrelentingly sad. If I had to criticize it, I would say that the language may seem a tad overblown at times, especially towards the end, where the cohesiveness of the narrative starts to\u2013intentionally\u2013fall apart, and the metaphors and images become rather extravagant. Some may say that this is the game trying to show off how artsy and poetic it is, just because it can. There\u2019s also the fact that the ending offers very little in the way of answers, and you may end up more confused than when you started out. At this point, it all depends on how receptive you are to the game\u2019s own brand of mystique: either you buy into it, or you think <\/a>it\u2019s a load of hogwash. I\u2019m in the first category: some passages moved me profoundly. In fact, I dare you to get as far as \u201cFrom this infection, hope. From this island, flight. From this grief, love. Come back\u2026Come back…\u201d, without experiencing at least a slight shiver.<\/p>\n<\/a>Aside from the emotional narrative, there\u2019s the eye candy. The exterior of the island is bathed in an overcast, late afternoon light, with pinkish clouds slowly sailing across the sky, and the greyish tint of twilight beginning to settle on the forlorn landscape (it helps that this just so happens to be my favourite time of day). Besides the dilapidated lighthouse, there’s a beached cargo ship, the ramshackle remains of a hut and an aerial, blinking a red eye in the distance. Oh, and caves. Lots of caves. And, running like a trail of breadcrumbs throughout these surroundings, mysterious symbols\u2013chemical formulas, electrical circuit diagrams, drawings\u2013and a string of candles. Possibly ghostly figures, as well, if you\u2019ve got a keen eye. And, accompanying all this, the music, all eerie violins and lonesome piano notes, never intrusive, occasionally goosebump-inducing, always poignant.<\/p>\n