Kentucky Route Zero is a game that makes freedom feel rare and temporary. For some games, freedom is defined by the amount of possibilities available to the player, such as multiple systems or a large open world. In contrast, KRZ is primarily a point-and-click game. Players move from one limited area to the next through limited sets of directions, then select dialogue or road choices in order to arrive at their destination. Because the game’s logic is basic and does not contain complex mechanics, I often felt emotionally weighed down by this lack of mechanical freedom. Most of the time, movement in KRZ is not really about exploration; it is about duty. As Conway moves from point A to point B, he is attempting to deliver a package while following directions, navigating his injured body, and dealing with debts, work, and a world that has become increasingly chaotic.
The scene where Ezra takes Conway and Shannon up into the sky on a giant eagle named Julian impacted me because there are no major new complexities added to the gameplay. Nothing suddenly becomes more “game-like” in the traditional sense. However, the feeling of moving changes dramatically once the characters ascend into the sky. Until this point, the player has mostly been moving toward the next road, building, or piece of information. In this scene, the player is now moving vertically, with an expansive openness that includes elements of surrealism and whimsy. For once, I did not feel like I was being sent somewhere. The movement is no longer an act of routing; rather, it feels like an escape from the sequence of roads dictating their reality.
The interesting part is that the verb being used remains the same; the player is still moving. Yet the qualities of that movement have shifted. Previously, movement felt slow and methodical, almost like completing an errand. Now, the player experiences a floating sensation. Although the basic activity has not changed, the way I understood that activity changed. Mobility was once an act of travel; now, it becomes a temporary release from roads, directions, and the obligations attached to them.
Overall, what I appreciated most was how this freedom does not make the player feel like a hero. Rather than feeling as though I conquered the environment, I felt as though I was given an opportunity to temporarily unplug from employment, debt, direction, and a world that has ultimately broken down. The brief instance of flying above made me feel both smaller and larger in proportion to the rest of the game world. I found this experience beautiful because no actual solutions were provided, but I was given the opportunity to breathe for a quick moment.
