Strange Gaming Diaries: kaschei, by Middle Sea Software

this was another entry for toxic yuri vn jam 2 that I played a few days ago—I had to sit with this one for a while to really start forming thoughts on it. it left me with a feeling that was strange and difficult to place, like something had flown past me and I didn't react fast enough to catch it.

but I think that time has given me the chance to appreciate that there's a very deliberate sense of dullness throughout the game. things not seeming like landing as hard as they should, with the same gravity they should, is a recurring theme throughout the game's stories.

deep unprompted investigation into someone's online history, a total loss of memory and identity upon entering a town, an invasion of one's body in the basement of a library, there's a muddied, placid confusion enveloping all of them. they are simply things that happened—but surely they were important, right? they had to have been important, they have to be. then why does the prose hold back from summoning anything more vivid than grey?

even the untitled game, with its moments of emotional catharsis, is still defined by that sense of aimless acceptance. the heartfelt moment of comfort between the two leads is still, ultimately, a suppression of reflexive emotion; everything is fine, there's nothing to worry about. everyone dying at the end is put into motion with a sense of flippant nihilism, with any anger only coming forth after the deed is done.

I keep finding myself picturing everyone wandering the underworld, just as weightless and made of dust as they were in their lives. it's a familiar feeling.

indeed, the process of switching through the game's many project files—undeniably impressive in their implementation, but you probably didn't need me to tell you that—felt less like excited digging through an archive in search of its every dark corner and more like the rocking of a boat, or the dizzying journey of a leaf blown by wind. there was still a sense of momentum, but in the same way that remembrance is often less a thing I actively pursue and more of a thing that jumps out at me and sends me off my feet. scattered movements through scattered memories.

I don't think I came out of the experience with the kind of inspiration the game seemed to hope I would. it didn't make me feel a particularly strong desire to write a story. but I was engaged throughout the whole process, and there's something I appreciate in the ability to so perfectly capture the feeling of feelings under thick sheets of ice.

though, this post was originally just going to be a comment left on the game's itch page before I realized I was already into my third paragraph, so I realize now that it did certainly inspire me to write something. and it's not like I needed to be told to write a story—I already did that, for the same game jam. but maybe two months ago, maybe two years ago, if I wasn't already being carried forth by the momentum of my artistic voice's growth, it would have been what I needed.

it's not going to be much longer until I'm 30 years old. I've been thinking about that more and more, lately.

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