Even the most optimistic of us don't deny that games are time wasters to some degree, and a lot of games out there exhaust so much energy just in trying to prove that they're not. Flower, Sun, and Rain acknowledges this and goes in the complete opposite direction, one of its recurring patterns, with its decision to include a step counter as a permanent component of its UI. Not only does the game refuse to put anything of note in its long-winded and visually hideous corridors but it also refuses to let you forget just how much time you've spent in them. It's a ridiculously efficient way to taunt the player (and this is before you even consider that it's used as a milestone to unlock "upgrades" for Sumio) but it's also the most interesting thing the game does.
I've long since accepted the reality that all anything has to do to be considered an art game is be Not Fun, but even the driest arthouse films constantly give the audience something new to chew on, which this game doesn't do. It's adamant about never allowing its puzzles to evolve, which I suppose I understand from a thematic perspective, but this doesn't mean it had to restrict itself in every other area. The most fulfilling part of playing this game was trying to figure out why they included a step counter, and once I was finished with that it didn't really feel like there was much for me left.
The most impressive thing it does late-game is the gradual disappearance of its ensemble cast. One moment you can't even get outside without being pestered with one of their problems and the next the universe feels jarringly empty- almost like the day after a large group has checked out of some sort of hotel or something. Combine this with the fact that the game has a character list detailing each one's background and personality, presumably so players can "check their notes" as if playing a traditional mystery game, and it becomes downright genius, but it's not enough to carry the back half of the game.
It's a deconstruction. I get it. I got it after the first few days went by, I got it when a character straight-up told me that his dialogue was a flag to trigger a new event, I got it when the gameplay devolved into gradeschool math homework, I got it when the credits rolled. It's a deconstruction, but it's not a great one.
I've long since accepted the reality that all anything has to do to be considered an art game is be Not Fun, but even the driest arthouse films constantly give the audience something new to chew on, which this game doesn't do. It's adamant about never allowing its puzzles to evolve, which I suppose I understand from a thematic perspective, but this doesn't mean it had to restrict itself in every other area. The most fulfilling part of playing this game was trying to figure out why they included a step counter, and once I was finished with that it didn't really feel like there was much for me left.
The most impressive thing it does late-game is the gradual disappearance of its ensemble cast. One moment you can't even get outside without being pestered with one of their problems and the next the universe feels jarringly empty- almost like the day after a large group has checked out of some sort of hotel or something. Combine this with the fact that the game has a character list detailing each one's background and personality, presumably so players can "check their notes" as if playing a traditional mystery game, and it becomes downright genius, but it's not enough to carry the back half of the game.
It's a deconstruction. I get it. I got it after the first few days went by, I got it when a character straight-up told me that his dialogue was a flag to trigger a new event, I got it when the gameplay devolved into gradeschool math homework, I got it when the credits rolled. It's a deconstruction, but it's not a great one.