What fascinates me about Firewatch is how it makes its linear format personal.
You choose the little details of your past life. You choose what kind of connection you think Henry and Delilah should have. You choose how to respond to the crises you encounter. That's what makes each experience unique.
When confronted with frightening information, the player is able to channel their thoughts into action (or inaction) by how much they interact with Delilah, and in what manner. They can use the disposable camera and take pictures of whatever they please. One player's relationship to the characters may be wildly different than that of another player, despite the conclusion being all the same. Firewatch couldn't accomplish that as a film.
There's narrative and emotional purpose in the player's actions. The inevitable ending only reinforces those themes. Calling it a "walking simulator" with no agency all because there's no tangible impact on the story's conclusion feels disingenuous to me.
Henry and Delilah's endless sarcastic quips would be much more annoying in any other type of video game, but their dialogue reflects their flighty, guilt-ridden, and sheltered interiors. That, and the fact that they're the only human contact they have. Simply hearing Delilah's voice brings a bit of comfort, even in most stressful situations.
Every time I heard the generator whirring as I walked past the outhouse, it sounded like terrifying, haunting, ambient music. Firewatch's entire sound design turns the forest into music. It ebbs and flows between the muted guitar strumming, wind, and birds - switching to contemplative synthy drones that beckon you beneath the surface.
I find it clever that Jane Eyre is stowed in one of the cache boxes. In many ways, Firewatch creates direct parallels to the novel. Here are two lookouts, using this journey to escape their troubled pasts. Through the game's creepy atmosphere, both are convinced of major conspiratorial threats; the only futures they see are death or imprisonment. Central to everything is a half-literal-half-figurative skeleton in the closet found to be Brian and Ned Goodwin, not too different from the gothic melodrama of Bertha Mason. This is when the two stories diverge. Firewatch keeps it real. A summer getaway isn't gonna help you deal with your personal troubles. Nothing you can do in the forest will change your life back home. You see it through, and the entire forest smolders as red as the red room in Brontë's novel.
Henry and Delilah are two heavily flawed individuals running away from their problems. They, and the player, are coaxed into delirium through the actions of Ned, another flawed individual who ran away from his problems. Upon realizing the gravity of your situation, you're all eventually scared straight - forced to deal with the inevitable truth of the past and future coming together.
You choose the little details of your past life. You choose what kind of connection you think Henry and Delilah should have. You choose how to respond to the crises you encounter. That's what makes each experience unique.
When confronted with frightening information, the player is able to channel their thoughts into action (or inaction) by how much they interact with Delilah, and in what manner. They can use the disposable camera and take pictures of whatever they please. One player's relationship to the characters may be wildly different than that of another player, despite the conclusion being all the same. Firewatch couldn't accomplish that as a film.
There's narrative and emotional purpose in the player's actions. The inevitable ending only reinforces those themes. Calling it a "walking simulator" with no agency all because there's no tangible impact on the story's conclusion feels disingenuous to me.
Henry and Delilah's endless sarcastic quips would be much more annoying in any other type of video game, but their dialogue reflects their flighty, guilt-ridden, and sheltered interiors. That, and the fact that they're the only human contact they have. Simply hearing Delilah's voice brings a bit of comfort, even in most stressful situations.
Every time I heard the generator whirring as I walked past the outhouse, it sounded like terrifying, haunting, ambient music. Firewatch's entire sound design turns the forest into music. It ebbs and flows between the muted guitar strumming, wind, and birds - switching to contemplative synthy drones that beckon you beneath the surface.
I find it clever that Jane Eyre is stowed in one of the cache boxes. In many ways, Firewatch creates direct parallels to the novel. Here are two lookouts, using this journey to escape their troubled pasts. Through the game's creepy atmosphere, both are convinced of major conspiratorial threats; the only futures they see are death or imprisonment. Central to everything is a half-literal-half-figurative skeleton in the closet found to be Brian and Ned Goodwin, not too different from the gothic melodrama of Bertha Mason. This is when the two stories diverge. Firewatch keeps it real. A summer getaway isn't gonna help you deal with your personal troubles. Nothing you can do in the forest will change your life back home. You see it through, and the entire forest smolders as red as the red room in Brontë's novel.
Henry and Delilah are two heavily flawed individuals running away from their problems. They, and the player, are coaxed into delirium through the actions of Ned, another flawed individual who ran away from his problems. Upon realizing the gravity of your situation, you're all eventually scared straight - forced to deal with the inevitable truth of the past and future coming together.