After taking 75,000 steps in Flower, Sun and Rain, you unlock the “Movement Speed UP” ability, which allows you to sprint, granting the player a much needed reprieve from Sumio Mondo’s endless march across Lospass Island. Only, the average player will never know this power up exists. I completed the game taking precisely 20,193 steps, a count which I imagine is generally higher than the average player, on account of me not knowing where to go and having to take a few additional agonizing journeys to and from the Hotel Flower, Sun and Rain. This begs the question: why even add such a thing in the first place?
Flower, Sun and Rain stretches its identity as a “video game” so thin that it only loosely fits the definition. Gameplay consists of mind-numbingly walking to various destinations around the island. Every puzzle is solved in the exact same way. Test the different colored jacks, find the corresponding passage in the guidebook, and then input the answer. Yet, despite not being similar to most games on a mechanical level, Flower, Sun and Rain is one of the most “gamey” video games I have ever played. Upon reaching certain milestones on your pedometer the game fades to black, and you are rewarded with largely worthless power ups, as if to shake the player out of their walking-induced trance and say, “Hey, you remember you’re still playing a video game, right? That’s what this is!” Similarly, characters will often break the 4th wall and recognize that they are, in fact, in a video game. It’s extremely obvious that all of these facts are meant to add up to some form of critique.
My reading of Flower, Sun and Rain interprets the work as a critique of the obsessive push toward realism in gaming. Nowhere is this critique more present than in Request 14: Träumerei. Directly following two chapters where the player controls characters who are not Sumio Mondo, the hotel manager Edo Macalister chides Sumio, saying that in order to make up for missing two chapters of action, he should prepare for lots of walking. This is precisely what happens. The player must walk from the Hotel and the wheat fields, two points which are about as far away from each other as possible, twice. Then, the player walks up to the fourth floor of the hotel another eight times, while Sumio is frustratingly locked into just walking. Running in the hotel rooms and stairways is not permitted, of course. After my first two trips and my first four journeys up and down the stairwell, I was reaching my wit’s end. However, that is when Ken appears, who is notably the only person on the island who has access to a form of transportation. Long story short, you “borrow” Ken’s bike, and it acts as a form of fast-travel for the chapter, and cuts down on the length of the chapter considerably. However, the scenario is very much “unrealistic” and somewhat out of character for Sumio. FSR asserts through this mechanic that obsession with realism is only valuable to a certain point. If a piece is injected with too much realism, it will lead to an unfun experience, as is the case in many sections of FSR. There were many times throughout the game where I was not necessarily having fun, but just because the game isn’t fun all the time doesn’t mean it can’t be a great experience.
There’s so much to be said for the quality of writing in this game. I love how they are able to so effortlessly allow the player to identify with Sumio. I don’t agree that the game is meant to be obtuse as a way to make fun of people who like games, far from it. I interpreted that you were supposed to be laughing along with many jokes at the expense of the player and Sumio, but these ideas would be better saved for a longer piece. Flower, Sun and Rain is among my favorite games of all time, and I recommend it to anyone with the patience to see it through to the end.
Flower, Sun and Rain stretches its identity as a “video game” so thin that it only loosely fits the definition. Gameplay consists of mind-numbingly walking to various destinations around the island. Every puzzle is solved in the exact same way. Test the different colored jacks, find the corresponding passage in the guidebook, and then input the answer. Yet, despite not being similar to most games on a mechanical level, Flower, Sun and Rain is one of the most “gamey” video games I have ever played. Upon reaching certain milestones on your pedometer the game fades to black, and you are rewarded with largely worthless power ups, as if to shake the player out of their walking-induced trance and say, “Hey, you remember you’re still playing a video game, right? That’s what this is!” Similarly, characters will often break the 4th wall and recognize that they are, in fact, in a video game. It’s extremely obvious that all of these facts are meant to add up to some form of critique.
My reading of Flower, Sun and Rain interprets the work as a critique of the obsessive push toward realism in gaming. Nowhere is this critique more present than in Request 14: Träumerei. Directly following two chapters where the player controls characters who are not Sumio Mondo, the hotel manager Edo Macalister chides Sumio, saying that in order to make up for missing two chapters of action, he should prepare for lots of walking. This is precisely what happens. The player must walk from the Hotel and the wheat fields, two points which are about as far away from each other as possible, twice. Then, the player walks up to the fourth floor of the hotel another eight times, while Sumio is frustratingly locked into just walking. Running in the hotel rooms and stairways is not permitted, of course. After my first two trips and my first four journeys up and down the stairwell, I was reaching my wit’s end. However, that is when Ken appears, who is notably the only person on the island who has access to a form of transportation. Long story short, you “borrow” Ken’s bike, and it acts as a form of fast-travel for the chapter, and cuts down on the length of the chapter considerably. However, the scenario is very much “unrealistic” and somewhat out of character for Sumio. FSR asserts through this mechanic that obsession with realism is only valuable to a certain point. If a piece is injected with too much realism, it will lead to an unfun experience, as is the case in many sections of FSR. There were many times throughout the game where I was not necessarily having fun, but just because the game isn’t fun all the time doesn’t mean it can’t be a great experience.
There’s so much to be said for the quality of writing in this game. I love how they are able to so effortlessly allow the player to identify with Sumio. I don’t agree that the game is meant to be obtuse as a way to make fun of people who like games, far from it. I interpreted that you were supposed to be laughing along with many jokes at the expense of the player and Sumio, but these ideas would be better saved for a longer piece. Flower, Sun and Rain is among my favorite games of all time, and I recommend it to anyone with the patience to see it through to the end.