I'm not sure I've ever been transported back in time so quickly as in I Write Games, Not Tragedies. It's not that I fully relate to what happens in the game, but its sense of place, atmosphere and feeling I understand in my soul. The emo among you have probably already picked up on the vibe of its title, and for those of you who haven't yet, the game's aesthetics, writing, and soundscape are sure to please.
The action takes place in some unknown British town in the distant past of 2009. You play as Ash, a little goth who thinks that everything in his life is unbearably terrible, and that everyone around him is unbearable and deserves his (internally narrated) humiliation. The popular kids are too popular, his parents won't let him hang out on the roof in the rain, and of course there's school, ugh! Nobody understands him, but when he puts on his red Skullcandy headphones (what a throwback), he can escape into the world of music… that's where it's at visual novel the game turns into a rhythm game, er, game.
This is not a revolution in rhythm game mechanics. There are three buttons to press, and you have to time your presses to specific words in the lyrics of whatever song is playing. You can get stuck at certain points, but I couldn't get this to work in the demo and I'm sure this issue can be resolved with an updated guide.
I'm not particularly bothered by the rather lackluster rhythm mechanics due to how they are captured in many other ways. The soundtrack, for example, consists of tracks from indie punk artists from the UK, Japan and Hong Kong, which is itself a thematically appropriate commitment. The backgrounds look like they were made in Paint circa 2009 (optional), but there are also nasty anime drawings of Ash's classmates, as well as some of his own drawings where he looks a little too cool. This pencil, sketchy, color-based vibe also carries over to some of the character art, albeit in a slightly more polished manner and much in the vein of something like Scott Pilgrim.
This cringing feeling permeates much of the demo and presumably the rest of the game. Ash sucks, especially in the way that teenagers sucked in the late 2000s. He's drinking WKD on some channel with a boy he's clearly in love with, a drink that famously can't get you drunk unless you're literally 14 years old and would be ridiculed by anyone who drank it as an adult. I wasn't Ash, but I knew Ash, and I cowered before Ash.
In the years since I've gotten to know my own Ash, or Ash I guess, I've acquired a few rose-colored glasses that are thick enough to at least allow me to look back on that time and laugh a little, even if it's also a little awkward to think about. The same feeling is present in I Write Games, Not Tragedies, and it may not be for everyone. However, if you've ever listened to My Chemical Romance and grew up in some hick town in Britain, you probably owe it to yourself to give this song a try.
“I write games, not tragedies” available now on Steam.
