Not a fan of cozy sim games. Can't get past Stardew Valley after the 30th day. Animal Crossing: New Horizons took a while before I got the hang of it. But after completing the main tasks, there was no point in revisiting the game.
But why am I compelled to discuss an objectively worse
game than the two games mentioned?
In Spiritfarer, your job is to collect and transform
materials used to upgrade your ship to progress into the game. That means
mindnumbing hours of grinding and doing disgustingly repetitive tasks.
What separates this game apart from others is its theme.
As the "spiritfarer," you must fetch spirits of
the dead across the globe and perform a laundry list of items for them. Once
done, you deliver each one to the spirit world.
Throughout the process, you learn more about the spirits: who they are, why they died, and who they left behind. The tasks further reveal to you the hopes, dreams, and wishes each could not fulfill, on top of the fears and regrets that haunted them.
After fulfilling all their wishes, they eventually reach a
semblance of closure, enabling them to leave this world and cross the
afterlife.
Delivering spirits to the other side is a spectacle. But as
majestic as its visuals and score are, a sense of sadness and longing creeps in.
Once they cross over, you won't interact with these spirits
again, as if you're bidding farewell to a stranger who eventually became a
close friend.
The looming eventuality of loss and death is a straight
punch in the gut. However, nothing compares to the pain of losing someone
without warning.
There is one spirit in this game who, after holding a feast
for him along with other spirits, just suddenly goes missing the next morning.
The others inform me that he's not on the ship - that he's gone.
No cutscenes explain his departure. No farewell speech. Just
absence. While the other characters express their sadness, they continue their daily routines, tasks, and existence. At first, this felt
jarring, even cruel. But perhaps that's exactly what makes this moment so
powerful.
Because isn't that the truth of loss? The world doesn't stop turning. The sun rises, people go to work, birds keep singing - even as we're frozen in our grief, trying to make sense of the emptiness left behind.
This game mirrors our own experiences with loss, with
letting go, with continuing on. But through its sometimes painful honesty, it
offers a beautiful meditation on impermanence.
You don't have to be ready to face these truths. You can put
down the game and breathe for a bit, just like it's fine to curl up in bed and
sulk because you're not okay. The game, however, waits patiently like grief
itself.
And when you are ready to pick up the broken pieces to
soldier on, you'll find that everyone - both in the game and in life - will be
there, waiting to welcome you back.
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