I explored the video game “What Remains of Edith Finch”, developed by Giant Sparrow. I played the game on iOS, though it is also available on PlayStation, Windows, XBox, and other platforms. The game targets teens and young adults and presents the experience of seventeen-year-old Edith Finch uncovering the stories behind her family members’ deaths as she roams her childhood home. It leverages walking by allowing the user to navigate different rooms, each one associated with a particular family member who has passed away. The player is then immersed in the first-person perspective of and “walks” through each of Edith’s relatives’ perspectives in key moments of their lives, as well as their deaths. In this game, violence is frequent, yet each death is weighty—it is not a trivial way to advance the plot, but the emotional centerpiece of how each character is introduced.
As the game is centered around different ways Edith’s relatives died, violence is recurrent in “What Remains of Edith Finch”. Edith is immersed in the perspectives of each of her family members throughout the story—everyone has been afflicted by the Finch family curse, which has caused their early deaths. Each perspective comes to an end with someone’s tragic and untimely end and, though the player does not know what to expect before each micro narrative, they already know that some form of violence will close the tale. As players witness the stories of characters like Barbara, a child star who is murdered by home invaders, or Walter, Barbara’s brother who is hit by a train after decades of locking himself in the basement, they become geared to expect violence but not fear it.
Comparison to a violent game:
As such, this game’s use of violence is particularly distinctive because of how central it is to the story’s themes. As opposed to other games that let players use violence as a simple element or mechanic within a story, perhaps to defeat enemies or as a punishment for doing poorly in the game, “What Remains of Edith Finch” includes stories that are all fundamentally centered around violence, teaching its players grander themes like enjoying life before death. This uniqueness is further evidenced when we compare this to another game, “Little Nightmares”. “Little Nightmares” is a horror game following a small girl who must escape a giant ship, inhabited by monstrous beings trying to eat her. Drawing from the MDA framework, the games share several similarities and differences in design—”What Remains of Edith Finch” is built upon discovery and fantasy, while ”Little Nightmares” taps into fun built on challenge. There is a similarly eerie atmosphere as the “Little Nightmares” explores different rooms, but the player is more on-edge as they now have control over the success of the main character. The player controls the little girl as she outruns monsters trying to eat her, weaves through obstacle courses, and tricks opponents who are hundreds of times her size—as a player I was tense throughout my gameplay experience, and I reacted to every death with either fear or frustration.
“Little Nightmares” scene, image of small character running away from human-like monsters
“What Remains of Edith Finch”, however, allots more emotion to every death. Death is inevitable, meaning the user does not have to worry about how their own actions will affect if they win or lose the game—instead, they can focus on the reasons leading to the death. Additionally, since they are inhabiting the body and perspective of a character, they can mull over and truly absorb their perspective, which is presented with subtlety and humanity. For instance, an especially compelling story in “What Remains of Edith Finch” follows the life of Lewis, who was working at a fish cannery and falls deeper into his mental fantasies as he deals with the monotonous, lifeless work.
“What Remains of Edith Finch” Scene, Lewis’s first-person perspective in his fantasy world and real world.
We are able to gradually and intentionally explore both Lewis’s real world and his fantasy, seeing the drastic difference between his dull, lifeless reality and the vibrant world in which he has freedom to roam exciting places. Lewis is implied to have decapitated himself using the same machine he’s used to behead thousands of fish, and this scene is executed artfully as Lewis is immersed in his fantasy and makes the decision to put his head down on the machine in front of a cheering, imaginary crowd of followers. The player cannot sway the outcome of the scene—but, they can walk slowly up the steps and turn side to side, absorbing the noise and the people around them. The player moves Lewis to the machine that kills him, as though they are making the decision for him. Rather than fear and frustration, I felt sadness and shock at the scene. It lingered with me much longer than any deaths in “Little Nightmares” had.
