Game: Monument Valley 2
Creator: ustwo games
Platform: iOS and Android
What does it mean to play Monument Valley 2 as a feminist?
I downloaded Monument Valley 2 thinking it’d just be a cute little break, something soothing between homework and real life. Aesthetic, minimal, puzzle-y. What I didn’t expect was to get emotional in the middle of a mobile game while curled up on my bed at 1 am, phone screen glowing in the dark.
Playing this game as a feminist didn’t feel like waving a flag, it felt like a whisper that slowly got louder: “This story matters. This kind of care matters.” Guiding Ro, the mother, and her daughter through impossible architecture isn’t just about solving puzzles. It’s about showing up for someone. Teaching them, helping them, and eventually stepping back to let them try on their own. That’s what hit me the most, that moment when they separate. No words, no dramatic music. Just distance. And grief. And pride. I actually gasped out loud. And I thought, wow, this is what emotional labor feels like.
In Play Like a Feminist, Shira Chess talks about how casual games, especially mobile ones are often dismissed as “lesser” because they’re soft, slow, or aimed at women. But honestly? There was nothing “lesser” about how much this game moved me. It was gentle, yes, but it was also bold in how it told its story, not through violence, but through connection.
To play this game as a feminist is to say: patience is powerful, care is courageous, and motherhood is epic, even if it doesn’t look like a combat fight.
What critiques do I have of the game?
Okay, I’ll be honest, I adored this game, but I also have some thoughts.
Let’s start with Ro and her daughter. They’re beautifully designed, but also… blank. No voice. No backstory. No cultural clues. They’re meant to be “universal,” which sounds nice in theory, but in practice? It can feel like erasure. Feminism reminds us that which stories get told matters. I kept wondering is Ro a single mom? A queer mom? A woman of color? Has she lost something? Is she escaping something? We’ll never know. And that felt like a missed opportunity to make the game’s message not just emotional, but relatable.
Also, the puzzles? They’re gorgeous, but very linear. I rarely felt like I had room to experiment or explore. It was always about finding the “correct” path. And honestly, that felt weirdly ironic in a game about a mom teaching her kid independence. Shouldn’t I, the player, also have some freedom to choose how I guide her? To mess up? To grow?
Lastly, while the game feels feminist: soft, nurturing, woman-centered, it doesn’t exactly say anything feminist. There’s no direct commentary on why motherhood is so rare in games, or how care is often devalued. It’s powerful, but quiet, maybe too quiet sometimes?
How does it intertwine feminist theory or fail to?
This game is basically a live demo of Shira Chess’s key feminist game theories:
- Resistant Play: It resists what Chess calls the “orgasmic structure” of traditional games you know, the boss battles, the explosions, the high-score adrenaline rush. Monument Valley 2 throws all that out. The climax? A hug. A literal, silent hug. That’s the reward and it’s beautiful.
- Valuing Emotional Labor: Ro isn’t just solving puzzles, she’s doing emotional work. She’s teaching, waiting, grieving, hoping. It’s not background flavor. It’s the entire game. Chess reminds us that stories about care are often dismissed, and this game puts them front and center.
- Casual Gaming as Legitimate: I played this on my phone, in stolen moments during commutes, late nights, even in classes once or twice (oops). And it still made me reflect on mentorship, growth, and my own relationship with care. As Chess says, mobile games deserve space in the canon and this one proves why.
But the game falls short on intersectionality. As a feminist, I couldn’t stop wondering: Who gets to be “universal”? Too often, it’s the people whose stories are already centered. Ro could’ve been anyone but that also means she’s no one. I wanted more.
How could feminist perspectives improve the game?
Honestly, Monument Valley 2 is already doing a lot but here’s how it could go from beautiful to transformative:
- Give Ro a story. Even subtle environmental hints like a photo, a journal, a language, a tradition could deepen her world. Let us see her motherhood, not just a generalized metaphor.
- Let the player choose how to guide. Maybe in some levels I lead, and in others, I let the child try. That reflects real-life parenting and gives players room to reflect on their own instincts.
- Make the monuments mean something. Are they ruins of the past? Symbols of legacy? A society Ro is breaking free from? Let the world whisper something more.
Final thoughts
Playing Monument Valley 2 as a feminist wasn’t loud or defiant, it was quietly radical. It reminded me that softness isn’t weakness. That care is courageous. That being a mother, a mentor, or just someone trying to help someone else grow that can be a heroic journey, too.
Ro doesn’t carry a sword. She carries her daughter. And somehow, that felt like the most powerful ending of all.
