Doki Doki Literature Club! has been, to my immense chagrin, many people's first visual novel. I have seen reviews along the lines of "I usually hate visual novels, but I love DDLC!" Indeed, DDLC is the blueprint for any pretentious and illiterate creator who attempts to "deconstruct" the visual novel genre. "This ain't your DADDY'S visual novel," they imply on their steam store listing or itch.io page, "THIS is a REAL DEEP one!" It's like people who say "I hate rap - but I love Eminem!" A group who is broadly ignorant of the medium, prejudiced by years of memes and stereotypes which paint visual novels universally as vapid dating sims for lonely virgins, but who nonetheless envision themselves as the Auteurs who can redeem the medium. An entire group of home-grown David Cages. I do not think Dan Salvato is one such creator, but he has bolstered their cause and, in doing so, has unleashed upon the public a game whose oft-lauded "fourth wall moments" and "horror themes" can be found in titles as tame and widely played as Undertale.
DDLC is not scary, it's not interesting, it's not novel, it's not especially memorable, and its most notable feature is, tellingly, its vocal and ubiquitous fanbase. The game's inept attempts at scaring the player are, if anything, welcome. The scares are oases in a game whose pace is a desert, the player forced to trudge through multiple hours of schoolgirl stereotypes cloyingly flirting with them and occasionally saying something vaguely ominous before the next visual glitch or photorealistic graphic appears on the screen just to make sure the game isn't losing you. The game pretends to deal in heavy topics, but these are only milked for cheap spectacle. Suicide, parental neglect, and poverty are treated with the same tact and respect as the deaths of Bruce Wayne's parents. The game's premise, a visual novel character going rogue and becoming infatuated with the player behind the screen, is a vaguely interesting idea that is undercut by the fact that it is literally the plot of an episode of Gravity Falls.
The only satisfying explanation is that DDLC is some kind of elaborate prank to waste the time of gaming YouTubers and creepypasta-nostalgic players. It is an easier idea to stomach than the notion that this unremarkable and stale game was created and enjoyed in earnest.
DDLC is not scary, it's not interesting, it's not novel, it's not especially memorable, and its most notable feature is, tellingly, its vocal and ubiquitous fanbase. The game's inept attempts at scaring the player are, if anything, welcome. The scares are oases in a game whose pace is a desert, the player forced to trudge through multiple hours of schoolgirl stereotypes cloyingly flirting with them and occasionally saying something vaguely ominous before the next visual glitch or photorealistic graphic appears on the screen just to make sure the game isn't losing you. The game pretends to deal in heavy topics, but these are only milked for cheap spectacle. Suicide, parental neglect, and poverty are treated with the same tact and respect as the deaths of Bruce Wayne's parents. The game's premise, a visual novel character going rogue and becoming infatuated with the player behind the screen, is a vaguely interesting idea that is undercut by the fact that it is literally the plot of an episode of Gravity Falls.
The only satisfying explanation is that DDLC is some kind of elaborate prank to waste the time of gaming YouTubers and creepypasta-nostalgic players. It is an easier idea to stomach than the notion that this unremarkable and stale game was created and enjoyed in earnest.