I think there's a good attempt here at making a more thoughtful adult game. While a lot of the writing didn't work for me in style or structure, and while I found the red-lit intertitles to be clumsy, there's an earnestness to Doomsday Dreamgirl. For one thing, there's the way that writer and developer Nadia Nova considers what intimacy and sex mean for the characters involved. Another is the resonance between the characters' desperation for physical and emotional intimacy and a deliberately undefined apocalypse outside their shared walls. I'm not sure that Nova has a full grasp on what, exactly, is being expressed with the emphasis on domination and masochism. But hey, a willingness to at least try and portray the complicated and messy emotional dynamics of kink within a hurried queer relationship has more to it than most depictions of sex and romance in videogames.

Played this on a nod from a friend I got back in touch with. It's a neat lesbian disaster apocalypse visual narrative where the main character, a ciswoman named Pandora is an abusive jerk. You're welcomed to all her begrudging thoughts as she smacks around and disciplines the trans cowgirl Addie. With some intense atmosphere on the part of dark visually fragmented backgrounds and rumbling lofi noise music. Aesthetically quite similar to We Know The Devil (2016) there, with a similar dozen or so marked emotional portrait changes which is appreciably more than average for games of this scale.

A lot of the game cycles through constant put downs and sexual experiences at the end of the world. My usual complaints about Visual Novel objectification is wavered here on account of it being a kinetic novel and therefore not giving the player and option to input their level of sleeziness. Along with the fact the games depiction of Addie is very aware that this relationship is not healthy or good, if anything it feels like an intervention. The story opens with her smacking Addie across the cheek, there's no 'victory' in whats going on here. I do have a relevant lead for this Objectification aspect to actually. A narrator with no face is a significant aspect here. I would have loved to know what Pandora looked like but the most we have of her is her hand print from smacking Addie. This aspect of a narrating character who you can't see may be a huge part of why these visual novels feel voyeuristic in a way I don't quite enjoy. Even if the main character is cruel, sexist, etc. I still feel like knowing what they look like and having that brought around a few times would subsume the feeling of voyeuristic disembodiment. Key here is rather than feminist critique, I think knowing what the protagonist looks like physically is core to good characterization. Here for example, knowing Pandora's face would have gone a long way to understanding the metaphor, is Pandora a human 'domesticating' her cattle or she a wolfgirl? etc. The fact a lot of Visual Novels do without this process of depicting their protagonist is my more formalistic issue, considering they are an active agent in these stories.

It's a socially exhausting experience, where it feels like the story should have ended several times, but its supposed to be. Think of the work of Beckett plays like Endgame (1957) or more popularly Waiting for Godot (1952) and you'll get what I mean. I think that this could be understood in terms of a light and probably accidental erotic adaptation of Endgame actually, with the similar themes of uncomfortable symbiosis and disciplinary threat mired in hazy apocalyptia.

The themes of disciplinary looping and sadomasochism upholding a bad relationship are ones that I'm all too familiar with and dealt with all my life. I'm not victim blaming relationships like the one Addie is in for crumbling to this fate, but similar to what I said in my Curtain write up, I think this is relatable in the sense that you can love and enjoy being around people who start to act this cruel, and its preventable. It becomes a learned behavioral loop. Where the perpetrator is not really sure what else to do so resorts back to punishments and rerouting that to whatever most base enjoyment you share (in their case, cuddling and sex). Which eventually crumbles away at the spirit of the person on the receiving end. One really crucial note here though is that most people who do this is are usually miserable with themselves for doing it as well, and often just try to justify out of that mood. That's for a simple reason: such a social wardening ultimately means their behavior is entrapped in a role locked 'flow state' from which they cant break out of. The roles create a state of play for them but the 'game' is too easy so eventually they have to up the ante and get rise out somehow. Do more, yell louder, pull some hair, whatever.¹ Admitting to feeling a little bad in moments is allowed, but it still has to be on their terms, try to call them out and you're gonna get slugged. I've been in at least 4 relationships like this in my life, maybe even more than that.

All said, totally up to you to opt out of trying this one since its quite plotless, whereas her other works I've played can you say my name again (2017) and One Small Favor (2016) have a more direct narrative thrust. I still liked it quite a bit, but you'd have to really prod me into replaying it :<

1. This is not functionally dissimilar from what I noted in my 'nerf dart russian roulette' analogy in the Vampire Survivors insight, where I stated: " There's obviously the stakes themselves which are awful, but even if it was being done with a nerf dart the game itself is so static and unrewarding if played many times that the only way to have fun with it and produce more pleasure is by either getting in a tantric zone, or by raising the stakes." I think the longer things go on the more I start to believe that this aspect of 'gaming' might be something one should be weary of. Let it be noted that my opinion on the concerns of Vampire Survivors has also shifted dramatically since that initial insight, but I will write about that sometime soon.