![]() But they do enough to convey the basics and allow for the more interesting interpersonal moments to take place. Graphics are subdued and character models aren’t incredibly detailed (or immune from occasionally glitching into their surroundings). The game in its entirety is comparatively simple in its design. These sections also display some of the heights that the visuals of Forgotten Fields reach a particular section sees you walk through the Temple of Time where spirits of animals dwell among luscious luminous trees. It’s a slight shame that your welcome to this side of the game is tinged with initial hesitation, but this is swiftly left behind by dropping the reciprocative aspect, letting you fully engage with the story and its analogy. Your choices do not matter, but they also don’t need to. ![]() When you are first introduced to this secondary story it is proposed as an interactive story-creation but this quickly falls away and is far better for it. It’s a lovely touch, falling into the shoes of a fantasy character who, much like Sid, is on a journey to rediscover a time and place that has been out of reach for sometime. That is the one he’s trying to write as the game progresses. Running parallel to Sid’s story is, well, Sid’s Story. But, as to be expected, Sid’s journey back home isn’t as straightforward as he might like and some old faces crop up along the way. It’s a chance for him to say goodbye to it and the memories entangled within its four walls. In Forgotten Fields you play as Sid, an up-and-coming author struggling with writer’s block who is shaken from his creative panic by an invitation to return to his childhood home for one final dinner with old friends before the house is sold. And it keeps its word, backed by the focus on storytelling and atmosphere by Frostwood Interactive, the one-man studio behind the game. The game promises to be a cozy game about nostalgia, creativity, appreciating the present, and the passage of time. It’s a feeling that Forgotten Fields sketches with a delicate, but no less potent, touch. It’s a very particular feeling not quite happy, but not quite sad. I’ll be handing in my essays, articles, and dissertation and, along with them, my sense of structure and certainty.
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