Games With Grey

Lake’s central narrative is unquestionably its finest achievement – profoundness abounds; intense emotions are frequently and fiercely stimulated, positive and negative both. Much of this swelling success is attributable to the consistent heart and sincerity often on display, a defining characteristic, though another source of narrative success stems from the narrative’s overall originality, the developers’ uniquer motivations. In a crucial departure, a larger antagonist is totally absent. Theoretically, this lack could deal the narrative a sharp blow, could prompt a descent into directionlessness and deflated tension. An antagonist’s absence might also correlate to boredom and a dearth of conflict, terrible when compounded with the potential directionlessness, the seemingly aimless wandering. Ultimately, both of these potential failings are averted within Lake and its narrative; the game manages to transcend its absent antagonist; conflict overflows; player investment soars. In a masterful achievement, meanwhile, a compelling balance is evoked, in that conflict exists directly alongside relaxedness – the title is rarely overwhelming or exhausting to play, even as especially challenging themes are periodically advanced; tension is tempered by levity. This tempering impulse is but another indicator of narrative originality, many developers seizing upon narrative bleakness exclusively, others depending upon excessive humorousness. Total dependence inevitably prompts staleness. In depending upon two different channels, two different tones and inspirations, staleness is rejected outright, even as foundationally the central narrative is straightforward – the protagonist Meredith Weiss temporarily quits her prosperous job in the city to settle in her hometown of Providence Oaks, Oregon for a fortnight, wherein she serves as letter carrier, package deliverer. A singularly profound character who anchors the narrative, Merdeith’s excellence is only complemented by the town’s masterful depiction – the location morphs into a character in its own right, firmly situated in time; the narrative unfolds in 1986. The isolated town’s populace is expectedly scarce, though this sparsity does not equate to a dearth of interesting NPCs.

Indeed, the town is overflowing with profound figures, each possessive of totally distinct aesthetics, motivations, and identities, though all linked by Providence Oak, alternately alienating and wonderfully inviting. Actually interacting with these people, learning of their conflicting motivations and trials, marks the narrative’s greatest triumph – these disparate figures carry the narrative just as much as Meredith, as the setting proper. And their relationship is profound indeed, owing to Meredith’s unique status – she is a messy admixture of outsider and insider, being born of the town though detached from it for some twenty-two years, dedicating herself to city life. This divided state inevitably prompts conflict, internal and external, though not of as intense a sort as might be expected. This lessened intensity largely springs from the citizens’ commanding affability – they welcome Meredith even with her vast, lengthy removal and generally detached state. Implicit contrasts erupt here: Providence Oaks represents friendliness, while Meredith’s current environment in the city represents cool detachment and apathy. And so Meredith is near universally embraced – reembraced – and the NPCs’ consistent kindness only heightens their likability. And the cast of characters – and they are exhaustive – are all defined by likability (save for some instances where an included character is deliberately intended to be unlikable – see a motel attendant). And so Meredith darts about Providence Oaks for two weeks, briefly assuming the occupation held by her father, seemingly a longstanding fixture of the community proper, an admired figure. The father / daughter relationship is of some importance, it that it partially explains the fondness of Meredith’s reception just as much as the citizens’ inherent kindnesses – their natural respects extend to her. Inhabiting their world, existing alongside them and sharing in their pains and pleasures, prompts a sharp sense of groundedness – the narrative is wonderfully human, abounding in sincerity though rejecting rampant sentimentality.

The NPCs are, again, essential, and they are all exceedingly complex constructions, many characterized by their flaws – by their humanity. Consider only Kay, Meredith’s girlhood companion, a talented artist and musician who despite her promising prospects deigned to remain in Providence Oaks, existing in a supposedly impassioned marriage, raising two supposedly kind and eccentric children. Their childhood bond was intense – now the pair are each defined by rifts, Meredith liberated, Kay still bound. But knowledge of this bondage does not result in despair or demoralization – Kay is content with her existence, pleased with it even, mundane or no. The outsider / insider dynamics again show themselves, and in so instinctively embracing Meredith after a span of twenty-two years, Kay illustrates humankind’s potentials for patience and kindness – she is an immensely likable character, indeed, featuring excellent writing and wonderful believability; observing her interactions with Meredith, the dialogue they exchange, is singularly delightful – and sometimes poignantly sorrowful. Almost all included characters show such depth, though each is still defined by distinctness. Consider only Maureen, an older, affable woman who runs Providence Oaks’s prominent diner, a gathering space for the citizens, a relaxed and inviting space. Given her older age – she is older though not ancient – it follows Maureen has a rather complex relationship with Meredith, Maureen seemingly adopting an almost maternalistic role in Meredith’s youth. At one point, Maureen recollects fondly on how Meredith would stumble into her diner daily after school, delighting in Maureen’s renowned and scrumptious blueberry pie, this ritual communicating children’s innocence and simplicity. As was the case with Kay, Maureen does not regard her present state with anything approaching bitterness – she, too, is content, and the affectionate manner in which she embraces Meredith suggests Maureen’s profoundness; even a waitress or diner owner is suspect to intense and complex emotions, even in such an unassuming town as Providence Oaks – Maureen transcends her potential simplicity, whereas many other game developers and writers would instead overemphasize her simplicity as a commentary on Providence Oaks’ commanding backwardness. Not so here, and these two women’s exchanges are brimming with vitality and depth, Maureen displaying her sagaciousness just as much as her persistent compassion, almost evoking an aged versus youth dynamic (which is admittedly unpursued elsewhere).

Only a few missteps in characterization are made here, and they are quite slight. The two failings – stumblings – revolve around two distinct figures, the lumberjack and tinkerer Robert Harris and the movie lover Angie, who runs a video rental store in Providence Oaks. Both are expectantly likable, Robert always showing reservations and guardedness, still wounded from a failed marriage, while Angie frequently expresses her exuberant personality, her characteristic vitality, both of which are endearing rather than repelling. Their failings, though, circulate around the romantic subplot included – the player can forge a romantic relationship with both characters. These subplots feature ample sincerity and excellent writing, of course, while they are presented tastefully, but their inclusion absolutely seems forced, as if the developers highlight these more intimate dynamics, predilections for romance, seemingly out of expectation. Bound by expectations or no, still these two relationships unfold naturally and organically – they transcend genericness. Both Robert and Angie are expertly developed, to an even greater degree than either Kay or Maureen – they are heavily emphasized, and this emphasization is ultimately rewarding. It is instinctual, then, to grow close to either love-interest, to sincerely care for their fates, to act always with their emotions and perceptions in mind – player investment soars. The conclusion – a construction both steeped in potential tragedy and adulation – bequeaths total power in the player’s hands. Many choices are presented, some revolving around city life / rural life, some revolving around the romances presented – cling to Angie, cling to Robert Harris; remain in Providence Oaks, return to the hustle and bustle of the city, or reject both locales.  Masterfully, none of these decisions were made automatically or haphazardly – they all involved active contemplation. Ultimately, I craved autonomy, and while it was painful indeed to reject Angie and Robert, the decision made was the correct one, I feel, even after some contemplation and time away from the narrative. Quitting both of the love interests, I also quitted the city life and also life in Providence Oaks, instead choosing life on the road. The sense of independence evoked here is compelling indeed, and the narrative concludes in a highly memorable fashion – its many potential branches a direct illustration of ample narrative ambition, an asset rather than a flaw. Memorable is the perfect word to describe the narrative collectively. Overflowing with life, emotion, conflict, originality, and a commanding humanness, striking innovation abounds.

Given the swelling narrative heart and profoundness, gameplay is completely overshadowed – here, Lake is defined by basicness, gameplay typically being very boring and unengaging in nature – gameplay exits as framework for the narrative. The excessive boredom present here has many logical explanations – Meredith is a postmistress, whose working day revolves around letter delivery, package delivery; this profession is inherently connected to ennui; Meredith’s resumed life in Providence Oaks, her temporary odyssey as mail carrier, is foundationally incompatible with excitement. And so it is, as boredom mostly dominates, as Meredith crosses and recrosses Providence Oaks day after day, the gameplay showing little variation. Variation’s absence predisposing the title to repetition, certainly, though repetition which is ultimately averted owing to the considerable narrative successes, which serve a preserving function, tempering the considerable gameplay failures. Still, the core gameplay formula is never deviated from, and while many different NPCs are interacted with from day to day, actions executed when first arriving in Providence Oaks are functionally identical to those executed on the eve of Meredith’s potential departure. While the developers embraced largeness in designing Providence Oaks, structurally the gameplay and progression systems are both very rigid, as the game adopts an exploration / exposition / exploration / exposition approach. A fair span of time will be spent in navigation, certainly – Providence Oaks is far from massive, indeed is rather condensed when considered alongside other titles in the genre, but the size generally is an asset; overwhelming sensations are rejected – focus abounds. Meredith is essentially tethered to her mail truck, in that it contains the letters and parcels (though a painfully slow walking speed is another source of this tethering; movement is painfully slow; Meredith is no excessively acrobatic figure). And so the player will drive for minutes at a time, subjected to mostly competent if uninspired driving controls. While driving, excitement consistently mounts – who will be interacted with next? Who will emerge to receive the delivered package or letter, to discourse with Meredith? Exposition, when eventually achieved, is rewarding indeed, is like the payoff for the sometimes labored traversal. Imbalances inevitably exist, and it is no overstatement – it is accurate – to suggest that gameplay is a mere hurdle towards narrative development. A bit of added gameplay heft would benefit the title immeasurably, would only inject the experience with sorely needed vitality. As matters stand, vitality is largely absent – the player emotions are stimulated, certainly, while cerebral ambitions also dominate throughout. But in many ways, Lake fails as a game, neglecting conventional industry expectations, namely that gameplay should be exciting, should be distinct from filmic experiences, for instance.  

Providence Oaks, though, is frequently beautiful and imaginative, the developers adopting an arresting cel-shaded aesthetic. Crucially, they are never overdependent upon this aesthetic approach – its presence is noted and striking, certainly, though it is rather muted than overexaggerated, as is so often the case elsewhere. But color and vibrancy abound, orange and ochre having a very prominent presence, the Oregon vastness featuring thousands upon thousands of towering trees, here in the height of their autumnal glory (the narrative transpires in late September). When considering these trees and forests, conflict is observable, humankind waging warfare with nature. Here, the warfare concluded somewhat peaceably – coexistence exists, continues to exist. Rather than conquering nature and then destroying it outright – as is the case in the more urban environments like those which Meredith has longed called home – civilization exists in harmony with nature, with those orange trees and forests. Intense overgrowth has its presence – some homesteads Meredith delivers to exist in especial isolation, being completely situated within the forested wastes. But humankind ultimately dominates (though not always delighting in that domination) observable in a constructed dam of considerable magnitude and majesty, observable also in the various structures constructed, beautiful but humble and unassuming – here are no ostentatious, towering skyscrapers. Here instead are rather simplistic constructions, constructions which are beautiful in their simplicity. But a sprawling lake is easily the region’s most commanding attribute, the entire town constructed around it; it truly is the centerpiece, and its massiveness is expertly conveyed, as the player inevitably winds around it countless times in any given day, countless times throughout the collective playthrough.  

The waters are tranquil and inviting, prompting almost idyllic sensations – the waters are calm, detached from the freneticism and constant motion characterizing city life, Meredith’s life – here is a world removed, a purer world with its beautiful orange and ochre trees and forests, its disarmingly beautiful waters. And still humankind inevitably pushes back, Providence Oaks boasting some sections of relative density, like one centralized region which contains the town’s post office, in addition to a general store and a myriad of quaint houses deliberately constructed therein for purposes of convenience, heightened accessibility. And then there are other displays of necessity, observable in a gas station and mechanic’s shop run by the youthful and plucky Lori, or the mentioned general store run by a surprisingly aloof and perpetually smoking female figure, a reluctant and unfriendly figure, clashing with much of Providence Oak’s populace. Consider also Angie and her video store, which rents out VHS and Betamax both, the store’s presence suggesting humankind’s needs for culture – even here, in isolated Oregon, the creative and artistic impulse exists and thrives; detachment from culture is not dominant here, existing essentially everywhere humans inhabit. Attention to detail abounds, too, and while the number of enterable interior environments is not massive, those which are enterable have been carefully and painstakingly rendered. Angie’s video store is littered with fictional advertisements and video cases, many serving the function of parody, while the general store is neatly and logically arranged, each class of item naturally situated aisle by aisle. Observing this attention to detail is enjoyable indeed, while merely inhabiting the world prompts excitement – a perfect microcosm has been captured here; believability flourishes. Providence Oaks broadly serves an almost transportive function, and as the hours pass by, the careful creative flourishes actually pull the player backwards in time – Lake actively transports the players into lonely, 1986 Oregon.     

Lake is abounding in charm and heart, the entire experience defined by a frank sincerity. Here is a sharp preoccupation with rather mature themes, like those of loss and any given human’s dual identities, Meredith existing as outsider and insider both. How do clashing identities act on any given person? Is the conflict painful? Is it resolvable? Questions abound, and the player is largely prompted to provide their own answers. Crucially, the title is interpretable though it is not needlessly and arbitrarily cryptic in content or in delivery, willed crypticness oftentimes defining video game narratives currently, especially those in the indie genre. In those titles, willed crypticness often corrupts the narratives, sometimes compelling otherwise; vagueness is oftentimes a failure. Not so in Lake, which seizes upon and masterfully exploits some indie tropes, simultaneously subverting others – originality abounds just as much as charm and heart; the player is not needlessly left in the dark. Originality’s presence and thriving naturally equate to memorability, and many profound, lasting memories are inevitably made in the eight or nine hour narrative. The experience can seem longer than that, admittedly, let down by the boring gameplay which has the tendency to drag ever onwards, a minor blemish though one which must absolutely be considered. If the player can endure this gameplay boredom, rich are the rewards, owing to the considerable narrative heft – and the masterful feats in world-building, Providence Oaks being a unique environment which illustrates the warfare between nature and society, a warfare which continues to exist in some form today, but a warfare which was especially intense in this presented 1986 society, a formative era of some upheaval. This world building does, again, transport the player backwards in time, and the expertly realized cast of NPCs injects life into the narrative and the world, vital when considering the world proper often shows considerable hollowness – few are the cars on the streets, few the NPCs walking alongside the sidewalks, named or otherwise. Still, meeting these characters, discoursing with them and growing with them, serves a sharp immersive function, and by the narrative’s conclusion any given player is likely stimulated in a fashion almost no other titles in the industry seek to stimulate. Themes which are developed elsewhere, in other industry titles – consider themes like love and loss – are developed and tackled in a unique fashion, and just as Lake can be defined by charm and by heart, it can also be defined by its uniqueness, vital and commendable when considering how dull and lifeless the industry increasingly seems.