With the deaths of David Bowie, Alan Rickman, several of my friends, my relatives, friends of relatives, relatives of friends, friends of friends, I don't think it's controversial to say that cancer sucks. Well, perhaps a more stronger word would be in order to describe the destruction of cancer. In fact, I think a better name for this game would be 'That Dick: Cancer.'
That Dragon: Cancer is an independent game, funded on Kickstarter...although made in partnership with Oyua (remember that 'console'?) It's a jolly tale, based on a true story of a four year old with cancer. Because cancer is a dick.
You quantum-leap from character to character, journeying through a hypothetical plain that breezes through this traumatic event in the families life. The imagery streams from symbolic, spiritual, and shockingly real. Some of it is quite literal. You're drowning in sorrow, so here's water! There's one fun arcade sequence where you battle a dragon, but the metaphors are immediately spelled out by the father for you - and not in a self-reflective way a-la The Beginners Guide.
The design is deceptively beautiful. Whilst sometimes it's simplicity looks sloppy (the way some objects move without any animation reminds me of when Skyrim bugs out) the blockiness and vibrant colours creates a childish atmosphere. This is then juxtaposed by the darker imagery that begins to emerge as the story progresses, and it's definitely effective. The simplicity of the images serves to make the image stand out more; untainted by volumetric lighting, dust particles, and dirt-textures.
The perspective shifts throughout. Are you the family? Are you Joel? Are you a stranger wandering through this tragedy? I have no idea, but I like the discussion this aspect of gameplay provokes. My favourite part of the game is when you hear the awful news and there's this inspired mechanic where you switch seamlessly back and forth through each persons internal thoughts as the room slowly fills with water. This is done though a child's toy. You have the very adult theme of impending death juxtaposed through the naivety of a child and a slowly building mental image. This is brilliant stuff.
What's not so fun is how the game has an annoying habit of transitioning from cut-scene to gameplay without really telling you, so you'll be sat there wondering why the action's stopped until you realise the controller's been thrown back at you. Occasionally you'll be thrust into a mini-game, but only a handful of them explain the controls or even establish that this is a game rather than a cuts-cene. Plus these mini-games are by far the worst parts, since they just feel so clunky to play. Compare this to The Last Of Us: Left Behind where the mini-games worked because for the most part they flowed into gameplay and the controls were explained.
It's also difficult to tell what to do next. The game plays like Myst in how you click to move onto the next part of the environment, and then you click on an item to interact with it. But there is only one path to progress, and it often requires - rather than just clicking on one item - clicking through several stages just to get to the item you can see. There's one part where you're supposed to walk to the window, then walk back, then walk into the bathroom, then walk back, then walk to the window, then walk to a cot and finally the story will continue. All of this whilst you hear the screams of a child. It's not empathetic, it's not emotional - it's just annoying.
Unlike Myst, there's no puzzles...unless you count navigating a room as a puzzle. You're just supposed to click on the next part to progress. There's no digressions, no side-paths; just click to proceed. This would've worked much better as a fully first-person game as it would've made the gameplay much more seamless and free for exploration. It was only as I got towards the end, where I merely clicked through a whole sequence about a dead child, that I realised I was playing a walking simulator. The game purports to be an exploration of a story, and whilst the atmosphere is thick, there's no exploration. There's no digressions or interactive elements aside from the main path. The very fact that you just click through the game rather than walk through highlights how distant I felt from everything. I'm not journeying, I'm just watching.
The biggest problem though is that the story itself feels incomplete. It does a great job establishing the situation the family are in, then drops the inevitable bombshell, then explores how each family member (well, the older son gets completely ignored later on) copes with this. But then just as the family begins to fully comprehend the situation...the game ends. The oncoming tragedy happens, but it happens before you even know it, and then the credits roll before you have time to realise what's occurred. The closest we get to any kind of acceptance is a one-line mention from the father that sounds like: "Yup, so it's gonna happen." There's no crafty mini-game or sequence where you play all this out. The game certainly dedicates time to the 'denial' section, but there's no acceptance; which should ideally take up the whole third act.
So maybe they never accepted? OK, that's entirely possible. But then the game should have gone on. If this was the stories intention then the tragic event should have been delayed and the dark imagery used in the penultimate chapter should be the second act climax. It feels as though the developers ran out of time and money so the third act had to be cut. Or, since this was Kickstarted, then maybe the developers just ran out of patience or motivation.
And the actual tragedy is barely mentioned. Again, there's no real sequence to it, there's just this annoying section where I'm stuck playing a piano and lighting candles. Then the scene ends. You don't explore any emotion - instead it's kept vague until the closing credits...which just made me feel cheated. Robbed of sharing my empathy.
The plot itself is very didactic. Again, whilst it attempts to use imagery, the game almost constantly tells you what the imagery is supposed to represent. The father says: "I'M DROWNING IN MY SORROW" whilst he drowns in a pool. He says he feels like he's in a cave whilst he stares out from a cave. They say cancer is a dragon whilst you fight a literal dragon. I also appreciate how dialogue is often spelled out before you, but at times this feels as though the game's saying: "YOU GOT THAT!? THIS IS A VERY SERIOUS AND IMPORTANT QUOTE!"
Really, whilst the game certainly makes you feel strong empathy for everyone involved...the plot-point of a kid dying doesn't really require much effort to make people empathise. There's pretensions of some kind of emotional journey, yet the only real insight gained from the experience is "cancer's a dick." And anyone who's lost someone they know from cancer is already fully aware of this factoid.
Plus, £10.99 is perhaps a bit to ask for a less than 2 hour game without much visual flair. The Beginners Guide is only £6.99 and I still replay it once in a while because it's just such a well-structured and smooth game that really gets my brain going whilst also reducing me to a sobbing wreck...and that game was just about some dude with writers block. Compared to what the family in That Dragon: Cancer goes through, The Beginner's Guide should look trivial in comparison - but because the story was just told so much better then I became far more invested in Coda than Joel. This is about life and death, yet I just don't have the emotional connection that I know I should. This is a tragic tale worth telling. I just think it could've been told better.
Sorry.
So maybe they never accepted? OK, that's entirely possible. But then the game should have gone on. If this was the stories intention then the tragic event should have been delayed and the dark imagery used in the penultimate chapter should be the second act climax. It feels as though the developers ran out of time and money so the third act had to be cut. Or, since this was Kickstarted, then maybe the developers just ran out of patience or motivation.
And the actual tragedy is barely mentioned. Again, there's no real sequence to it, there's just this annoying section where I'm stuck playing a piano and lighting candles. Then the scene ends. You don't explore any emotion - instead it's kept vague until the closing credits...which just made me feel cheated. Robbed of sharing my empathy.
The plot itself is very didactic. Again, whilst it attempts to use imagery, the game almost constantly tells you what the imagery is supposed to represent. The father says: "I'M DROWNING IN MY SORROW" whilst he drowns in a pool. He says he feels like he's in a cave whilst he stares out from a cave. They say cancer is a dragon whilst you fight a literal dragon. I also appreciate how dialogue is often spelled out before you, but at times this feels as though the game's saying: "YOU GOT THAT!? THIS IS A VERY SERIOUS AND IMPORTANT QUOTE!"
Really, whilst the game certainly makes you feel strong empathy for everyone involved...the plot-point of a kid dying doesn't really require much effort to make people empathise. There's pretensions of some kind of emotional journey, yet the only real insight gained from the experience is "cancer's a dick." And anyone who's lost someone they know from cancer is already fully aware of this factoid.
Plus, £10.99 is perhaps a bit to ask for a less than 2 hour game without much visual flair. The Beginners Guide is only £6.99 and I still replay it once in a while because it's just such a well-structured and smooth game that really gets my brain going whilst also reducing me to a sobbing wreck...and that game was just about some dude with writers block. Compared to what the family in That Dragon: Cancer goes through, The Beginner's Guide should look trivial in comparison - but because the story was just told so much better then I became far more invested in Coda than Joel. This is about life and death, yet I just don't have the emotional connection that I know I should. This is a tragic tale worth telling. I just think it could've been told better.
Sorry.
