Journey is an indie video game developed by Thatgamecompany, originally released in 2012 for the PlayStation 3, and later released for other platforms. I played the game on iOS. The game is designed for a broad audience, but I think it especially speaks to players looking for emotionally driven, narrative-rich experiences. It also appeals to game designers and developers who are looking for new models of engagement beyond traditional games. Journey is unlike any other game I’ve played. When I first played it, I felt lost. The game started with a long video of the environment, which confused me a little. The UI wasn’t obvious about how I entered the game. After I entered, there were no clear objectives or instructions, instead, it was for me to explore. I questioned what the game wanted from me. However, as I kept walking, I discovered that there are other things in this game rather than just a desert of sand, and I kept going to those places. I realized that through the act of walking in the game, it’s asking the player to be present, and walking, in this case, becomes the narrative.
Intro video at the beginning
Journey tells its story through movement, not exposition. Its minimalist mechanics replace traditional plot structures with emergent storytelling. The game invites players to feel meaning as they move, transforming walking into a storytelling device. Through this, the game encourages players to reflect on connection and solitude. Journey is extremely different than other games I’ve played before. Its mechanics are incredibly simple: movement, jumping, chirping, and flight through scarf power. There are no weapons, no inventory, and no objectives beyond “move forward.” These limited mechanics generate the dynamics of the game, centering on exploration and environmental interaction. The aesthetics also stood out to me, the vast desert sand makes you feel like you’re very much a part of the world, and a sense of loneliness, encouraging players to escape to this world.
Me trying to collect scarves to fly
From a storytelling perspective, Journey waves in all three elements: embedded, emergent, and evocative. The embedded storytelling appears in the design of the game, the ancient buildings and artifacts that hint to the players that there was something that existed there before them, encouraging them to explore with curiosity. The emergent narrative is very relevant in this game, as there is no one plot, and players interpret the plot based on their own choices and interpretations. Evocative narratives reveal themselves through the small details, for example, at the beginning of the game, my avatar emerges from a pile of sand in an almost empty world, and I see a mountain far back, which I think is a symbol for the journey I’m about to embark.
For me, I didn’t know that the game was supposed to be multiplayer, because I didn’t encounter another player during my playthrough. I found out after that you are supposed to collaborate with other players who are playing the game at the same time as you, and the design intentionally removes usernames, voice chat, and indicators to preserve emotional immersion and prevent bias. The absence of other players for me was my story, I feel like I just had time to wander alone. However, I also got bored of the game after a while, which makes me wonder: How do we account for engaging player experiences where they don’t run into other players? In a time where short-form content is on the rise, how do games adapt to this?
In section and in other games I’ve played, violence is often a part of the storytelling mechanic, whether subtle or obvious. Sometimes I feel like they can evoke guilt or a moral complexity. While these stories can be compelling, they can also be emotionally taxing. Journey removes the violent aspect entirely, there were no enemies, combats, or fail states. The game builds emotional attachment through movement, atmosphere, and in some cases (not mine), companionship. It poses a question to me as a designer: Is struggle and or violence needed to make a good game? How do we encourage players to engage and care without conflict?
At first, the lack of goals made me feel aimless and a little bored. The game might not be for me, but I learned this design was intentional. The quietness allows players to detach, observe, reflect, and feel each shift in terrain. Journey shows me that slowness and movement can be powerful and that design doesn’t always need to guide or reward. Sometimes, it just needs to let go. In a gaming space defined by speed, Journey slows down. It shows that a game can serve its audience just by simplicity, and walking, in this case, can deliver story, evoke emotion, and build meaning.
