Moon: Remix RPG Adventure exists in a dream, in a space of blended influences and distorted memories of childhood fantasies. From the claymation to the oddly realistic yet amorphous textures, Moon's visual style belongs to the imaginations of every child who grew up with games. The obvious jpeg artifacting and audio compression highlight the limitations of the technology in such a way that it reminds the player that this is, in fact, a game. It works as an immersive piece because it is not conventionally immersive. Trudging through these moments of jank and noticing the visual imperfections serve to ground the game in its commentary on the interactions players have with games themselves.
Moon: Remix RPG Adventure has a very strict time limit per day and the only way to reset the day is to go to sleep, which also lets the game save and for the player to deposit their love (xp equivalent) to the Love Queen. This mechanic, paired with the large world and slow movement, forces the player to prioritize and create a plan for what they are going to do in a day. Moon traps the player into only doing a certain amount of tasks per day to commentate on the the grind heavy and slow progression of other RPGs and the unhealthy binge that those games are designed to keep players in. Even if someone does binge Moon, there are still calculated moments of rest (even from the already relaxing world) and instead, rewards the player for taking breaks. Even when the timer expands to fit multiple days per run, the player still feels motivated to create a plan and because it fits with the design language of the world. The game's tone is so free-spirited and patient that blasting through it all harms the experience. It was nice to let myself get lost doing a couple small tasks and then calling it early and returning home. Moon incentivizes slower play and, in turn, fosters intrinsic motivation for the player to complete everything, save every animal and talk to every character.
Moon is a game within a game where the player first takes control of The Hero in fake "Moon" and plays like they would their average JRPG: looting houses, grinding for EXP, and searching for the next monster to slay. Then the boy who controls fake "Moon" is transported into the game, not as The Hero, but an invisible being who is left to internalize the other NPCs reactions to The Hero and witness their path of corpses. To save animals, you do not catch them per se, but catch their souls and then return them to their body. Each soul is attached to a habit that the animal had while they were alive. It gives a personality and quirky innocence to everyone that The Hero massacred. The real protagonist is left to pick up after themselves and confront their brutality. Its "anti-rpg" design enables the player to form a relationship with the animals and characters as their service is not characterized by violence, but by mending the damage. Instead of bonding through the defeat of the oppressor, the player's emotions are derived from a need to secure peace and save the world from themselves. Moon's overarching narrative about being an invisible helping hand runs counter to the God-like status players tend to work towards in other games and to The Hero's goals. It broke the way that I look at violence in video games. Anytime I fight a tonberry in Final Fantasy, battle Pokemon or even shoot down a grunt in Halo, I will think back to what Moon forced me to experience and lament on what anyone could only imagine exists beyond the code.
But fuck that fishing minigame. Six hours of my life I will never get back.
Moon: Remix RPG Adventure has a very strict time limit per day and the only way to reset the day is to go to sleep, which also lets the game save and for the player to deposit their love (xp equivalent) to the Love Queen. This mechanic, paired with the large world and slow movement, forces the player to prioritize and create a plan for what they are going to do in a day. Moon traps the player into only doing a certain amount of tasks per day to commentate on the the grind heavy and slow progression of other RPGs and the unhealthy binge that those games are designed to keep players in. Even if someone does binge Moon, there are still calculated moments of rest (even from the already relaxing world) and instead, rewards the player for taking breaks. Even when the timer expands to fit multiple days per run, the player still feels motivated to create a plan and because it fits with the design language of the world. The game's tone is so free-spirited and patient that blasting through it all harms the experience. It was nice to let myself get lost doing a couple small tasks and then calling it early and returning home. Moon incentivizes slower play and, in turn, fosters intrinsic motivation for the player to complete everything, save every animal and talk to every character.
Moon is a game within a game where the player first takes control of The Hero in fake "Moon" and plays like they would their average JRPG: looting houses, grinding for EXP, and searching for the next monster to slay. Then the boy who controls fake "Moon" is transported into the game, not as The Hero, but an invisible being who is left to internalize the other NPCs reactions to The Hero and witness their path of corpses. To save animals, you do not catch them per se, but catch their souls and then return them to their body. Each soul is attached to a habit that the animal had while they were alive. It gives a personality and quirky innocence to everyone that The Hero massacred. The real protagonist is left to pick up after themselves and confront their brutality. Its "anti-rpg" design enables the player to form a relationship with the animals and characters as their service is not characterized by violence, but by mending the damage. Instead of bonding through the defeat of the oppressor, the player's emotions are derived from a need to secure peace and save the world from themselves. Moon's overarching narrative about being an invisible helping hand runs counter to the God-like status players tend to work towards in other games and to The Hero's goals. It broke the way that I look at violence in video games. Anytime I fight a tonberry in Final Fantasy, battle Pokemon or even shoot down a grunt in Halo, I will think back to what Moon forced me to experience and lament on what anyone could only imagine exists beyond the code.
But fuck that fishing minigame. Six hours of my life I will never get back.