For this week’s critical play, I went for Florence, which is a short narrative game developed by Mountains and published by Annapurna Interactive. I played it on my iPhone, though it’s also available on PC, Switch, and Android. I’d heard about Florence before—it’s known for being emotional, beautiful, and different from most mainstream games. But I didn’t fully grasp its feminist potential until I read Shira Chess’s Play Like a Feminist. This reading helped me see that games don’t have to be loud or combat-focused to be powerful. A quiet, reflective game like Florence, that centers on a woman’s inner life, can be deeply reflective and political.
Their relationship starts off sweet, then slowly unravels, but instead of ending in heartbreak, it leads her to figure out who she really is. What really struck me was how the game turns everyday emotional moments into actual gameplay. Brushing her teeth, tidying her desk, calling her mom—these aren’t just background filler; you actually play through them. I was piecing together conversations like little puzzles, tapping through her daily habits, even swiping away memories during the breakup. Those small, simple actions made me feel so connected, like I wasn’t just watching Florence’s life—I was in it with her.
Looking at the game through a feminist lens made me appreciate its quiet boldness. There are no battles, no missions to complete. Instead, Florence invites players to feel, reflect, and grow. The scenes where they meet each other and eventually fall in love are super cute!! Love in the game isn’t a prize or an end goal—it’s an experience that Florence learns from and ultimately moves beyond. In most games, a woman’s story ends in love or loss. I like how in Florence, the breakup becomes a beginning. That framing felt genuinely feminist to me.
I noticed some of this game’s limits. Florence is portrayed as Asian-Australian, but her cultural identity isn’t explored yet. I wanted more depth—insight into her background, her family, and how her culture shaped her choices. The game universalizes her story in a way that makes it widely relatable, but that also removes complexity. As Shira Chess points out, feminist games should show how race, class, and sexuality intersect with gender. Florence gestures toward this, but doesn’t fully engage with it.
I also kept thinking about the dynamic between Florence and Krish. He’s shown as a passionate artist, but as the relationship progresses, Florence is the one who bends—adjusting her schedule, making sacrifices, and supporting his dreams. When things fall apart, the game suggests they’ve simply grown apart. But I couldn’t stop asking: was Florence ever truly allowed to take up space in that relationship? A deeper feminist approach might have explored how gendered expectations quietly shape who supports whom—and why.
Even with those critiques, I really admire how Florence redefines what a game can be. It reminded me of narrative games like Gone Home, but while that game builds identity through mystery, Florence does it through small, everyday rituals. Every tap and swipe felt meaningful. I don’t feel the pressure to win anything but just have to fully apply myself in it and understand.
Playing Florence also made me reflect on my own emotional labor. Like Florence, I often support others, quietly carry feelings, and manage stress in ways that aren’t always visible. The game made that work feel seen. To me, that’s what feminist game design is all about—making the invisible visible, and honoring the emotional complexity of everyday life.
If the game were expanded or remade, I’d love to see more narrative choices that reflect different feminist paths Florence could take. Maybe she reconnects with her mother in a deeper way. Maybe she builds new, non-romantic relationships. Maybe she challenges norms around work, identity, and love. These additions might be able to make the game richer and even more empowering.
In the end, the biggest takeaway for me is to recognize that softness isn’t weakness. Heartbreak, healing, and personal growth aren’t side stories—they are the story. Florence reminded me that a game doesn’t have to be loud to make an impact. It just needs to be honest. And in that honesty, the game reveals a quiet kind of strength, which is the strength to choose yourself. I’m glad that I played Florence for this week.
