I've never been good at picking up new languages. I struggle to memorize vocabulary, and conjugations fly right out of my head the moment it's time to form a sentence. Despite spending my entire schooling in various different language courses, I never picked up enough to be even conversant.
This is a source of great dismay to me. I love talking to people, I love reading, and I want to approach other cultures on their own terms rather than asking them to switch to mine. So four years ago I decided to start learning just a little bit of French every day with the help of one of those language apps. Even after COVID swooped in to severely limit my spare energy, I made sure to at least practice a bit every day to avoid losing what progress I'd made.
Dépanneur Nocturne is a bilingual game to a degree that I've never seen a game attempt before. It's not a "choose you language in the settings menu" thing—it's a "step into the dépanneur and the clerk starts speaking French to you" thing. You can respond in French or in English, and that's what she'll use to speak to you unless you ask her to switch. It's exactly like walking into a store in a Francophone region.
Despite four years of fucking around with a language-learning app, I've never had the courage to try actually engaging with Francophone media in its native language. I didn't think I could hack it. Even with frequent dictionary consults, I thought the process would be too slow and painful to actually be engaging.
I would never have gone into a menu and selected "French" for this game. But sure, I can say bonsoir when I walk in the door, just like I'd do in real life. And I found I could mostly make sense of the ensuing conversation. And so it was that I made it through the entire game without ever asking Eugénie to switch to English.
Of course, I had to consult the dictionary plenty of times. But not so much that it kept me from appreciating the cozy atmosphere, the mysterious worldbuilding, and even the charming writing of this game. And through all of that was woven the warmth of the implicit invitation the game provided to play it in its own tongue without judgment or expectation. And that means the world to me.
This is a source of great dismay to me. I love talking to people, I love reading, and I want to approach other cultures on their own terms rather than asking them to switch to mine. So four years ago I decided to start learning just a little bit of French every day with the help of one of those language apps. Even after COVID swooped in to severely limit my spare energy, I made sure to at least practice a bit every day to avoid losing what progress I'd made.
Dépanneur Nocturne is a bilingual game to a degree that I've never seen a game attempt before. It's not a "choose you language in the settings menu" thing—it's a "step into the dépanneur and the clerk starts speaking French to you" thing. You can respond in French or in English, and that's what she'll use to speak to you unless you ask her to switch. It's exactly like walking into a store in a Francophone region.
Despite four years of fucking around with a language-learning app, I've never had the courage to try actually engaging with Francophone media in its native language. I didn't think I could hack it. Even with frequent dictionary consults, I thought the process would be too slow and painful to actually be engaging.
I would never have gone into a menu and selected "French" for this game. But sure, I can say bonsoir when I walk in the door, just like I'd do in real life. And I found I could mostly make sense of the ensuing conversation. And so it was that I made it through the entire game without ever asking Eugénie to switch to English.
Of course, I had to consult the dictionary plenty of times. But not so much that it kept me from appreciating the cozy atmosphere, the mysterious worldbuilding, and even the charming writing of this game. And through all of that was woven the warmth of the implicit invitation the game provided to play it in its own tongue without judgment or expectation. And that means the world to me.