Night in the Woods perfectly encapsulates how it feels to live as a socially awkward neurodivergent person in the rural-ish northeast US. The northeast, especially New England, has this air of minding their own business; sure there's pockets here 'n' there with some more outgoing personality; Jersey and the eastern portion of Mass come to mind, but other states have jokes within New England such as Vermont, the joke goes "In Vermont, they speak two languages; English, and silence." Despite that however, there's immense difficulty getting around and doing things if you have social anxiety like I do. Mae's seemingly incoherent or childish responses to different social interactions seem to mostly stem from anxiety, trauma and a yearning for a time since passed.
I played this a year before moving down the coast to the Mid-Atlantic, and the difference in culture within a country people lump together as "Murican" is pretty staggering. It feels like everyone has someplace to be, the food is similar in a homely sort of way but largely completely different dishes; most people don't know what a good chowder looks like, and chili is relatively uncommon, and hardly ever hear about anyone making stews; things that are staples of New England diet for being easy to make, cheap, hearty, and most importantly warm during the Autumn and Winter seasons. Speaking of seasons, Night in the Woods is largely associated with Autumn, and for good reason, it nails the feeling of it better than any other game I'm aware of; at multiple times during both playthroughs I found myself vividly able to imagine the feeling in the air, or the smells.
The general art direction, sound design, overall presentation is fantastic, I yearn for more games with bold, simplistic 2D art that somehow convey texture in such a masterful way through use of its soundscape in conjunction with the wonderful color design.
During my first playthrough, I found myself crying a little at a couple points in following Bea around and hanging out with her. There's a lot of subtle conversational interactions too that really struck home, both in the forced delays between some messages so you cannot just mash through them, emphasizing the time and pace of a conversation (extremely underrated in video game writing in general, any game confident in its writing should be confident enough to tell the player to read, especially when that's the main focus anyways.) and in the exact grammar used. It's not without the occasional typo or grammatical error but I find those easy to look past. I found Mae and co's pleas easy to empathize with, seeing bits and pieces of that in the people I love. I clearly remember saying about 2/3 or so through this playthrough, "Thank god I don't relate to Mae. She needs a hug."
I would come to eat those words on my second playthrough in 2020, without getting into it 2020 was a very low point for me. As I waded through the game a second time, this time following Greg, it kept hitting me; "Oh no.", I said, rather shakily. "Oh God." I said, tearing up. I saw much of myself and my life in Mae, in about the same time frame it took her as well. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and it broke me. That weekend I'd also decided to spend all of it offline except for contacting my ex to talk for a little bit before bed. I used the time to immerse myself fully in the pain I felt playing through it, watching my life and anxieties play back like a slow motion train wreck. Yet throughout all of it, the fact I saw that in there was comforting to me, a reminder that I exist and should keep existing. I didn't really cry much during this playthrough, except near the beginning when the realizations dawned on me; but when the credits rolled I spent a good half hour or so straight gently sobbing by myself.
The game makes its point the clearest imo when you hang out with Bea, because if "Proximity" means anything to you, you already know why. Despite the rather abrupt second-to-last chapter, the sheer impact of Night in the Woods changed my life, twice, for completely different reasons. I'm scared, but that's not such a bad thing.
At the end of everything, hold onto anything.
I played this a year before moving down the coast to the Mid-Atlantic, and the difference in culture within a country people lump together as "Murican" is pretty staggering. It feels like everyone has someplace to be, the food is similar in a homely sort of way but largely completely different dishes; most people don't know what a good chowder looks like, and chili is relatively uncommon, and hardly ever hear about anyone making stews; things that are staples of New England diet for being easy to make, cheap, hearty, and most importantly warm during the Autumn and Winter seasons. Speaking of seasons, Night in the Woods is largely associated with Autumn, and for good reason, it nails the feeling of it better than any other game I'm aware of; at multiple times during both playthroughs I found myself vividly able to imagine the feeling in the air, or the smells.
The general art direction, sound design, overall presentation is fantastic, I yearn for more games with bold, simplistic 2D art that somehow convey texture in such a masterful way through use of its soundscape in conjunction with the wonderful color design.
During my first playthrough, I found myself crying a little at a couple points in following Bea around and hanging out with her. There's a lot of subtle conversational interactions too that really struck home, both in the forced delays between some messages so you cannot just mash through them, emphasizing the time and pace of a conversation (extremely underrated in video game writing in general, any game confident in its writing should be confident enough to tell the player to read, especially when that's the main focus anyways.) and in the exact grammar used. It's not without the occasional typo or grammatical error but I find those easy to look past. I found Mae and co's pleas easy to empathize with, seeing bits and pieces of that in the people I love. I clearly remember saying about 2/3 or so through this playthrough, "Thank god I don't relate to Mae. She needs a hug."
I would come to eat those words on my second playthrough in 2020, without getting into it 2020 was a very low point for me. As I waded through the game a second time, this time following Greg, it kept hitting me; "Oh no.", I said, rather shakily. "Oh God." I said, tearing up. I saw much of myself and my life in Mae, in about the same time frame it took her as well. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and it broke me. That weekend I'd also decided to spend all of it offline except for contacting my ex to talk for a little bit before bed. I used the time to immerse myself fully in the pain I felt playing through it, watching my life and anxieties play back like a slow motion train wreck. Yet throughout all of it, the fact I saw that in there was comforting to me, a reminder that I exist and should keep existing. I didn't really cry much during this playthrough, except near the beginning when the realizations dawned on me; but when the credits rolled I spent a good half hour or so straight gently sobbing by myself.
The game makes its point the clearest imo when you hang out with Bea, because if "Proximity" means anything to you, you already know why. Despite the rather abrupt second-to-last chapter, the sheer impact of Night in the Woods changed my life, twice, for completely different reasons. I'm scared, but that's not such a bad thing.
At the end of everything, hold onto anything.
Bojangles4th
1 year ago