There are a great many ways in which we determine the value of a game. Most of it is technical: story, visuals, mechanics, gameplay. Artistic value enters the equation, particularly in terms of originality and creativity, but there is a undeniable subjective component when judging upon those.
Essentially, it's the standard "amnesia" narrative trope that's common in fiction. The protagonist suffers only short-term memory loss in this case, but starts with no knowledge of what placed him in the situation and as the story progresses he slowly connects the dots with his past. Structurally, it's the same idea.
What stands out about Home's story is that it's not conclusive. It's designed to not only encourage multiple play-throughs, but to neither ever take any direction nor give any answers that the players themselves don't intend. In that regard, there is no plot, or narrative or story; it's a mishmash of fixed points with many small clues that the game lets the players interpret for themselves and decide what the story is. In a funny way, it's confirmation bias at its best; the players conclude in their minds what must have happened and the game happily confirms.
As such, there really isn't a predetermined story. This isn't a game where the story branches out to multiple endings. There are pre-programmed endings (and it's probably its one major failure, because it can break immersion when even a single line contradicts what the player has concluded by that point-- it happened to me), but they're vague enough to fit the player's own conclusions regarding the events that transpire.
Everything can change the way the player perceives the story: choosing whether or not to pick up items, which path should be taken to move to the next area, even whether or not the player explores all areas in the game or misses some. Every single detail exists not to write one of multiple endings, but rather to deceive the player into thinking they have it all figured out. Toward the end, Home outright asks the players what they think happened, only to confirm their responses.
It's a bit of a cop-out in that there isn't really any narrative and the creator didn't actually write a story. At no point can Home claim to have strong storytelling, for it has none. It is, however, an extremely clever and interesting experiment that relies on interacting with the player in order to write its story and explore its protagonist.
The title is falsely advertised as a horror game and prospective buyers should be aware that this isn't really what they'll be getting. There is an eerie atmosphere and a few well-placed jump scares, the effect of both greatly boosted thanks to the visuals and the sound. The gigantic pixels that would put Minecraft's building blocks to shame do work quite well and soon into the game, one will easily adjust to them. The beauty of the visuals is that they're relatively on the side of minimalism by horror standards. There is (barely identifiable) blood, but it's a rarity throughout the game, there is no prominent gore and nothing inherently scary.
They work for two reasons: for one, the game progresses through areas that cause uneasy feelings to the player by their very nature. The uncomfortable mystery of the unknown house the protagonist wakes up in is succeeded by dark basements, sewers, silent forests and abandoned factories. The other reason is that most of the game is supposed to be dark. The protagonist walks around with a flashlight (that should've been a lighter) that only lights a circle around the character. The all-too-familiar fear of the unknown, of what might be hiding in the darkness ten inches away from you isn't something that needs to be analysed.
The sound also helps a lot with the game's atmosphere. There is no voice acting or any music to speak of. The ambiance is haunting on its own and the player's only constant companion are the character's footsteps as he makes his way back home. The few jump scares that do exist in the game rely on sound as well. The silence and the echo of footsteps, leaky pipes and rustling leaves sharpen the player's awareness. Then, unnatural or inexplicable sounds coming seemingly from nowhere tighten the nerves, only to cause momentary mental breakdowns when something loud screams through the speakers and breaks the quiet right when it has become comfortable.
Yet, it's not a horror game-- not in the traditional sense at least. It's not a survival-horror title, its main goal isn't to scare per se, but rather present the protagonist's (and by extension, the player's) complex psychological and mental processes in a deeply emotive fashion. The fear in the game isn't the component of some unnatural evil, of some strange haunted town, of monsters lurking in the shadows; it's the fear of introspection, of understanding and, most importantly, of knowing one's self.
It's tied directly to the narrative experiment and exists to mirror the process of going from self-awareness to self-determination. It's likely not a coincidence that, as the story progresses and the players make their choices, the game becomes increasingly less scary with the last area in the game being extremely well-lit and
in stark contrast to the opening area.
Before moving on to closing statements, I'd like to depart from the traditional review for a moment and interject my opinion on something. Going back to the gameplay, I mentioned earlier that Home barely qualifies as a game. I wasn't dipping in hyperbole either; the majority of the game is spent walking or reading text boxes. There is a complete lack of failure states and the little narrative experiment is the only reason this game exists. All player interaction is hitting one button to open doors or climb ladders and all puzzles involve finding keys or flipping switches to open other doors.
I admit, were I reviewing the game after my first play-through I would have filed this under the title's shortcomings, but after my second try and the more I think about it, I'm increasingly intrigued by Home's approach. I'm a gameplay advocate in games, which isn't to say that there isn't room for other approaches, but the primary focus of a game should be the single most identifiable and definitive characteristic of the medium, rather than piggy-backing on things like visuals and narrative that belong to other forms of art and entertainment.
A lot has been said in the last few months in particular about what constitutes a game and I'm firmly of the belief that it needs to involve a certain level of interaction with the player. I'm sorry, but a walking simulator is not a game. A short story presented as a visual novel is not a game. Electronic entertainment, in general, has plenty of room for such endeavors as well, but such products are by default not games. Just because it's made on a computer, it doesn't mean it belongs on Steam.
Yet, Home stands in a strange place separate from any other entry on either side of the debate. What intrigues me the most about is the fact that were its gameplay longer, more complex, offering richer content, I wouldn't have enjoyed the title. For all intends and purposes, anything more involving from a gameplay standpoint would've been a distraction from Home in its entirety.
Interaction is key for Home. If it were a movie, it wouldn't work. It it were a novel, it wouldn't work. If it was a walking simulator, it wouldn't work. This is easy to understand when looking at the visuals and the sound, particularly the jump-scares, but gameplay is important for the title as well. Home's gameplay extends to the point that it involves the player into its world and its story, without detracting from its main goal. It's the illusion of playing, when in fact it treats the gameplay as another tool for immersion.
This is also why anything more complicated would've been a distraction. It's not an invitation to have fun with the mechanics so much as it is using the mechanics as a means to involve the player in the protagonist's adventure. The mechanics exist solely to shove the player deeper into its mystery. Providing more complex mechanics would have undoubtedly built a great big Wall of China between gameplay and story, creating a disconnect from one another that would detract from the game as a whole.
In theory, all gameplay in all games exists for that reason, but often one part of the game (story or gameplay) is ignored in favor of the other. In many story-driven games, like Spec Ops: The Line, gameplay just exists as busy-work to connect one cut-scene with another, whereas others that focus heavily on gameplay either don't feature any story worth speaking of or present with major pacing issues that distract the player to the point that the plot becomes a bother.
This is what I find the most intriguing about Home. It's whole. Every single thing in it exists for a reason and every feature completes another; this includes its simplistic gameplay, which involves the players just enough without ever letting them forget what they're there for. In that regard, while definitely failing by traditional standards, Rivers' work is the best deviation from the norm in design I've witnessed.
When all is said and done, what stands out for me the most is how well Home dodges the bullet of becoming pretentious. There is a sad common denominator for a lot of (particularly indie) creators that their work exists on the grounds of egotism or narcissism. Far too many creators create to show off to their audience or to stroke their own ego.
This shouldn't be the case. All creative work offered for public consumption should be about sharing and this is doubly true for video-games. I don't know if Benjamin Rivers is sitting on his leather desk chair rubbing his hands in complete satisfaction about how clever he is, but I do know that he fashioned a balanced experience that's inviting to the player. There is a hashtag on Twitter (#homehorror) where Rivers asks players to discuss the game and give their interpretation of the story and I'm positive I had ran into a site for the same purpose (which, for the life of me, can't currently track down).
Of course, in the end, interesting experiment or not it requires a certain price of admission and the question always remains whether or not the game is worth that price. Home is short: it lasts anywhere between 1- 1.5 hours (I clocked 58 minutes in both my play-throughs) and while it warrants a minimum of two play-throughs, curiosity is a good motivator for only so many revisits.
For that little content, its standard price of 3 bucks may be a bit hefty for those of us in the lower middle-class considering the amount of alternatives out there, especially seeing how atypical it is, which may disappoint many that need to save up for something with more content. The indie industry is, largely, a luxury industry for the consumer and Home is no exception.
Having said that, though, it's a well-put-together experiment that not only succeeds in its goal, but deserves to be played at least once by everyone. Fortunately, the game does often go on sale on Steam, either during Seasonal Sales or Weeklong Deals and it usually sells for just under a Dollar/Euro; at that price, it's definitely worth checking out, even if only to examine how gaming as an-art form can be expanded on, without completely ignoring the very features that make it unique.
Notes:
The game was purchased by the reviewer for Steam. Approximately 2 hours were logged into the game over two play-throughs. No customization options or extra content available. There is no spoken dialogue and all dialogue is in text, but there are no closed captions for players with hearing disabilities. Parents should be advised that the title includes non-realistic blood, graphic violence and an unsettling atmosphere unsuitable for young children . The game is rated "7" on the PEGI rating system, but has an ESRB "M" (Mature) rating.
System specs the game was played on: AMD FX6300, 6GB RAM, AMD R7 260X. The game offers gamepad support for XBOX controllers or xinput-supported variants.
"Home" was developed by Benjamin Rivers.
http://www.homehorror.com/
One rule of thumb in my experience is judging by how easy it is to talk about -or review, as the case may be- each game. A game that's hard to describe is either a game so dull that offers nothing of value to discuss or a game that's so good it's hard to find the right words to summarize the experience.
Home is a short, indie title originally released on Windows/Mac in 2012 (and since spread out to PS4, PSVita and iOS), developed solely by one Benjamin Rivers. It's a title that most definitely falls in the latter category; it's an engaging experience that's hard to describe.
The irony is that Home barely qualifies as a game. There are no fail states (that I've been able to find after two play-throughs) and in order to make its point it takes some design liberties with the flow of the narrative later on that in any traditional game, it would've been a detracting factor. I'm hesitant, however, to call it a "walking simulator" or an elaborate "choose your own adventure" novel (even though it dips heavily into both), because it offers just enough interaction with the environment and relies on the nature of gaming as a medium that, despite its departure from many a game-design conventions, "game" is the best descriptor for it still.
The closest genre Home could be filed under is classic side-scrolling "adventure". Controlling the main character can be done either via keyboard directional keys + spacebar or entirely with the mouse. All the gameplay consists of is walking and turning switches to unlock doors. This is the extend to which Home's gameplay goes. The puzzles are extremely straightforward and only occasionally impede process until they're solved.
Storytelling is Home's driving force and its entire foundation. The main character is an unnamed Harry Mason lookalike (in glorious pixelization), who wakes up in an unknown house with no memory of how he ended up there. The only clue the player's given is that the protagonist is suffering from sleep-walking that has caused him repeatedly to disappear for hours on-end, a result of a stressful life following certain events in his life.
Storytelling is Home's driving force and its entire foundation. The main character is an unnamed Harry Mason lookalike (in glorious pixelization), who wakes up in an unknown house with no memory of how he ended up there. The only clue the player's given is that the protagonist is suffering from sleep-walking that has caused him repeatedly to disappear for hours on-end, a result of a stressful life following certain events in his life.
Essentially, it's the standard "amnesia" narrative trope that's common in fiction. The protagonist suffers only short-term memory loss in this case, but starts with no knowledge of what placed him in the situation and as the story progresses he slowly connects the dots with his past. Structurally, it's the same idea.
What stands out about Home's story is that it's not conclusive. It's designed to not only encourage multiple play-throughs, but to neither ever take any direction nor give any answers that the players themselves don't intend. In that regard, there is no plot, or narrative or story; it's a mishmash of fixed points with many small clues that the game lets the players interpret for themselves and decide what the story is. In a funny way, it's confirmation bias at its best; the players conclude in their minds what must have happened and the game happily confirms.
As such, there really isn't a predetermined story. This isn't a game where the story branches out to multiple endings. There are pre-programmed endings (and it's probably its one major failure, because it can break immersion when even a single line contradicts what the player has concluded by that point-- it happened to me), but they're vague enough to fit the player's own conclusions regarding the events that transpire.
Everything can change the way the player perceives the story: choosing whether or not to pick up items, which path should be taken to move to the next area, even whether or not the player explores all areas in the game or misses some. Every single detail exists not to write one of multiple endings, but rather to deceive the player into thinking they have it all figured out. Toward the end, Home outright asks the players what they think happened, only to confirm their responses.
It's a bit of a cop-out in that there isn't really any narrative and the creator didn't actually write a story. At no point can Home claim to have strong storytelling, for it has none. It is, however, an extremely clever and interesting experiment that relies on interacting with the player in order to write its story and explore its protagonist.
The title is falsely advertised as a horror game and prospective buyers should be aware that this isn't really what they'll be getting. There is an eerie atmosphere and a few well-placed jump scares, the effect of both greatly boosted thanks to the visuals and the sound. The gigantic pixels that would put Minecraft's building blocks to shame do work quite well and soon into the game, one will easily adjust to them. The beauty of the visuals is that they're relatively on the side of minimalism by horror standards. There is (barely identifiable) blood, but it's a rarity throughout the game, there is no prominent gore and nothing inherently scary.
They work for two reasons: for one, the game progresses through areas that cause uneasy feelings to the player by their very nature. The uncomfortable mystery of the unknown house the protagonist wakes up in is succeeded by dark basements, sewers, silent forests and abandoned factories. The other reason is that most of the game is supposed to be dark. The protagonist walks around with a flashlight (that should've been a lighter) that only lights a circle around the character. The all-too-familiar fear of the unknown, of what might be hiding in the darkness ten inches away from you isn't something that needs to be analysed.
The sound also helps a lot with the game's atmosphere. There is no voice acting or any music to speak of. The ambiance is haunting on its own and the player's only constant companion are the character's footsteps as he makes his way back home. The few jump scares that do exist in the game rely on sound as well. The silence and the echo of footsteps, leaky pipes and rustling leaves sharpen the player's awareness. Then, unnatural or inexplicable sounds coming seemingly from nowhere tighten the nerves, only to cause momentary mental breakdowns when something loud screams through the speakers and breaks the quiet right when it has become comfortable.
Yet, it's not a horror game-- not in the traditional sense at least. It's not a survival-horror title, its main goal isn't to scare per se, but rather present the protagonist's (and by extension, the player's) complex psychological and mental processes in a deeply emotive fashion. The fear in the game isn't the component of some unnatural evil, of some strange haunted town, of monsters lurking in the shadows; it's the fear of introspection, of understanding and, most importantly, of knowing one's self.
It's tied directly to the narrative experiment and exists to mirror the process of going from self-awareness to self-determination. It's likely not a coincidence that, as the story progresses and the players make their choices, the game becomes increasingly less scary with the last area in the game being extremely well-lit and
in stark contrast to the opening area.
*****
I admit, were I reviewing the game after my first play-through I would have filed this under the title's shortcomings, but after my second try and the more I think about it, I'm increasingly intrigued by Home's approach. I'm a gameplay advocate in games, which isn't to say that there isn't room for other approaches, but the primary focus of a game should be the single most identifiable and definitive characteristic of the medium, rather than piggy-backing on things like visuals and narrative that belong to other forms of art and entertainment.
A lot has been said in the last few months in particular about what constitutes a game and I'm firmly of the belief that it needs to involve a certain level of interaction with the player. I'm sorry, but a walking simulator is not a game. A short story presented as a visual novel is not a game. Electronic entertainment, in general, has plenty of room for such endeavors as well, but such products are by default not games. Just because it's made on a computer, it doesn't mean it belongs on Steam.
Yet, Home stands in a strange place separate from any other entry on either side of the debate. What intrigues me the most about is the fact that were its gameplay longer, more complex, offering richer content, I wouldn't have enjoyed the title. For all intends and purposes, anything more involving from a gameplay standpoint would've been a distraction from Home in its entirety.
Interaction is key for Home. If it were a movie, it wouldn't work. It it were a novel, it wouldn't work. If it was a walking simulator, it wouldn't work. This is easy to understand when looking at the visuals and the sound, particularly the jump-scares, but gameplay is important for the title as well. Home's gameplay extends to the point that it involves the player into its world and its story, without detracting from its main goal. It's the illusion of playing, when in fact it treats the gameplay as another tool for immersion.
This is also why anything more complicated would've been a distraction. It's not an invitation to have fun with the mechanics so much as it is using the mechanics as a means to involve the player in the protagonist's adventure. The mechanics exist solely to shove the player deeper into its mystery. Providing more complex mechanics would have undoubtedly built a great big Wall of China between gameplay and story, creating a disconnect from one another that would detract from the game as a whole.
In theory, all gameplay in all games exists for that reason, but often one part of the game (story or gameplay) is ignored in favor of the other. In many story-driven games, like Spec Ops: The Line, gameplay just exists as busy-work to connect one cut-scene with another, whereas others that focus heavily on gameplay either don't feature any story worth speaking of or present with major pacing issues that distract the player to the point that the plot becomes a bother.
This is what I find the most intriguing about Home. It's whole. Every single thing in it exists for a reason and every feature completes another; this includes its simplistic gameplay, which involves the players just enough without ever letting them forget what they're there for. In that regard, while definitely failing by traditional standards, Rivers' work is the best deviation from the norm in design I've witnessed.
*****
This shouldn't be the case. All creative work offered for public consumption should be about sharing and this is doubly true for video-games. I don't know if Benjamin Rivers is sitting on his leather desk chair rubbing his hands in complete satisfaction about how clever he is, but I do know that he fashioned a balanced experience that's inviting to the player. There is a hashtag on Twitter (#homehorror) where Rivers asks players to discuss the game and give their interpretation of the story and I'm positive I had ran into a site for the same purpose (which, for the life of me, can't currently track down).
Of course, in the end, interesting experiment or not it requires a certain price of admission and the question always remains whether or not the game is worth that price. Home is short: it lasts anywhere between 1- 1.5 hours (I clocked 58 minutes in both my play-throughs) and while it warrants a minimum of two play-throughs, curiosity is a good motivator for only so many revisits.
For that little content, its standard price of 3 bucks may be a bit hefty for those of us in the lower middle-class considering the amount of alternatives out there, especially seeing how atypical it is, which may disappoint many that need to save up for something with more content. The indie industry is, largely, a luxury industry for the consumer and Home is no exception.
Having said that, though, it's a well-put-together experiment that not only succeeds in its goal, but deserves to be played at least once by everyone. Fortunately, the game does often go on sale on Steam, either during Seasonal Sales or Weeklong Deals and it usually sells for just under a Dollar/Euro; at that price, it's definitely worth checking out, even if only to examine how gaming as an-art form can be expanded on, without completely ignoring the very features that make it unique.
Notes:
The game was purchased by the reviewer for Steam. Approximately 2 hours were logged into the game over two play-throughs. No customization options or extra content available. There is no spoken dialogue and all dialogue is in text, but there are no closed captions for players with hearing disabilities. Parents should be advised that the title includes non-realistic blood, graphic violence and an unsettling atmosphere unsuitable for young children . The game is rated "7" on the PEGI rating system, but has an ESRB "M" (Mature) rating.
System specs the game was played on: AMD FX6300, 6GB RAM, AMD R7 260X. The game offers gamepad support for XBOX controllers or xinput-supported variants.
"Home" was developed by Benjamin Rivers.
http://www.homehorror.com/
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