A Case For Walking Simulators
Walking simulators have received tons of backlash from the gaming community ever since Dear Esther set
the standard for the genre in 2008. These slow, narrative-driven games
where "all the player does is walk" are constantly mocked for lacking
gameplay depth and being games that could just as easily be experienced
by watching a YouTube playthrough. Is this really true, though?
The word "game" is really nebulous, and everyone seems to have their own ideas of what a game is. The most common idea I've heard is that a game is a test of skill for the player; if the player can't potentially win or lose, then it isn't a game. Likewise, the value of gameplay seems to be attributed to the amount of choices the game allows the player to make. I think this is partially why the branching experience of The Stanley Parable is generally more accepted than the fixed experience of Gone Home, even though they're both walking simulators. With the rise of open-world games, it's increasingly evident that players like being able to choose where to walk. Following this strict logic, walking is only valuable when the player is given the choice to walk anywhere; and yet, open-world games can still be criticized for putting the players in boring environments. What's the point of choosing where to go if every direction feels the same?
Ultimately, choice doesn't matter if the game doesn't surprise the player. And I think this is what walking simulators do best. In Gone Home, the player explores an abandoned house without initially knowing why it was abandoned. Every room they unlock and every clue they find is a new surprise that leads them closer to the answer. The player isn't just walking around; they're actively involved in the narrative as they try to unravel the mystery.
What Remains of Edith Finch is a walking simulator that railroads the player through a linear path, but the environment is laid out in a way that doesn't feel linear. The player goes up a flight of stairs, then down to a locked basement, then down a ladder that leads to a beach, then through a graveyard on the side of this beach, then up a tree and through a branch that leads to a porch on the house's second level. The game constantly introduces new rooms and environments that surprise the player, which engages them to continue on. On top of that, the game is split into a series of short story-like mini games that each feature unique control schemes and mechanics. The player never knows what to expect because the game is intentionally designed to surprise them at every turn.
Walking simulators center around a really simple mechanic, but they use this simplicity to further involve the player in a narrative. They're effective at building surprises because the player never knows what they're walking towards. Confining video games into the box of "something that can be won" is constricting and prevents new potential understandings for the medium. To me, it's the same as arguing that "video games aren't art" because they're mindless tools for our enjoyment. I'm not saying that everyone needs to like walking simulators, but I do think this genre should be given more credit for allowing players to do things other than "just walk."
The word "game" is really nebulous, and everyone seems to have their own ideas of what a game is. The most common idea I've heard is that a game is a test of skill for the player; if the player can't potentially win or lose, then it isn't a game. Likewise, the value of gameplay seems to be attributed to the amount of choices the game allows the player to make. I think this is partially why the branching experience of The Stanley Parable is generally more accepted than the fixed experience of Gone Home, even though they're both walking simulators. With the rise of open-world games, it's increasingly evident that players like being able to choose where to walk. Following this strict logic, walking is only valuable when the player is given the choice to walk anywhere; and yet, open-world games can still be criticized for putting the players in boring environments. What's the point of choosing where to go if every direction feels the same?
Ultimately, choice doesn't matter if the game doesn't surprise the player. And I think this is what walking simulators do best. In Gone Home, the player explores an abandoned house without initially knowing why it was abandoned. Every room they unlock and every clue they find is a new surprise that leads them closer to the answer. The player isn't just walking around; they're actively involved in the narrative as they try to unravel the mystery.
What Remains of Edith Finch is a walking simulator that railroads the player through a linear path, but the environment is laid out in a way that doesn't feel linear. The player goes up a flight of stairs, then down to a locked basement, then down a ladder that leads to a beach, then through a graveyard on the side of this beach, then up a tree and through a branch that leads to a porch on the house's second level. The game constantly introduces new rooms and environments that surprise the player, which engages them to continue on. On top of that, the game is split into a series of short story-like mini games that each feature unique control schemes and mechanics. The player never knows what to expect because the game is intentionally designed to surprise them at every turn.
Walking simulators center around a really simple mechanic, but they use this simplicity to further involve the player in a narrative. They're effective at building surprises because the player never knows what they're walking towards. Confining video games into the box of "something that can be won" is constricting and prevents new potential understandings for the medium. To me, it's the same as arguing that "video games aren't art" because they're mindless tools for our enjoyment. I'm not saying that everyone needs to like walking simulators, but I do think this genre should be given more credit for allowing players to do things other than "just walk."
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