This one made me particularly sad.
At its heart, the relationships really make this piece work- the spiteful husband, a child exhausted by conversations repeated so often it’s mind numbing, the quietly out of place but kind partner- they all feel real.
The mounting frustration Maya displays as her mother circles back repeatedly, interrogating her about a long dead dog, and its non-existent food: the steaks, all lined up and frozen in the freezer, presumably purchased to soothe her, stacked up not to feed a particularly tubby, ravenous dog: but most likely because the mother had wanted to see them go out and buy food for her beloved puppy, and it was just the result of multiple trips- or else she’d gotten agitated about potentially running out of steaks before they could grab another giant bag of dog food.
That one little detail really broke my heart- especially with the dog bowl being shoved into a forgotten cabinet, not out of carelessness or callousness- but because it hasn’t been needed in a very long time. Stuff involving kids and pets is always especially hard to swallow, and I did get teary eyed about the fact that a puppy was once loved so much, that not only was he given a burial with all the pomp of an engraved headstone, but also that even in her deteriorating health, her first thought was of her dog and his wellbeing.
More interactable sinks! And tubs! Very exciting. I was pleased to see that leaving the taps on did progress the story- there were small parts where I would get stuck, mostly in not realizing I needed to go back and double check the cabinets, but honestly, the repetition of swapping between Kendra and Maya and going through the rote motions of slight variations on the same old conversation was effective enough I didn’t really particularly mind. Being complicit alongside the protagonist as you cycle through the same choices really highlights why Maya is understandably getting frustrated, and eventually falls into silence, rather than wanting to chat with her mom for like the bazillionth time about the same dog who’s been dead for ages. (Also, the mention of ‘someone’ leaving the taps on, after I did so, was particularly haunting, given the context of the story and the role of memory.)
I felt terrible, leading her out into the woods, when Kendra told her to go lay down while Maya and her talked- but I figured I’d need to to continue on with the story. The sequence with the husband was really quite frightening- more so than the imaginary dog gnawing off her leg, though that was quite gross (in a positive way, this is horror after all!) and the cascade of questions flooding the screen was an excellent use of formatting to illustrate the swirling mess that’s her mind in that moment. Loved that. I usually hate timed text, but here, it enhanced the presentation for me, rather than detracted from it.
The husband was characterized very efficiently- devilish, handsome, spiteful. The life that is quickly sketched out- of her giving up everything to be with him, his untimely death- is tragic, and disquietingly all too common, when women are left destitute with dependents. I got shivers when he started hauling her by the hair and burying her alive. There’s something so desperately pathetic about her digging for her limb and not even making much headway in the dirt- of course, you’d need your leg to get walking, a completely reasonable statement in an absurd scenario, of her dragging herself along with broken bones- to imagine her suffering on the forest floor is sad, and scary, and pitiful.
That moment where she wants to desperately protect her daughter, to inform her of what it’s like to be a woman, what men will do to you as one- really tugged on my heartstrings. As a parent, the number one thing you want to do is to keep your child safe- it’s one of the first promises you make, when you get to hold them in your arms at long last: a teeny, tiny, fragile little life, one that you want to hold safe and secure and snuggle up away from the horrors of the world that’s hurt you so terribly. The overwhelming love and terror you feel when you realize that this little part of your heart is out in the world, and vulnerable just the same as you or I- that’s something that changes you as a person, I think.
It’s so, so sad- and her leaning into the comfort of her child, the role reversal inherent in her mother losing her mental faculties and regressing into vulnerability- it’s just so intensely human. She’s not all the way there, but I don’t question that she loved her child- was proud of who her baby became, whether that was on the cusp of being in highschool, or while trying to shelter her from the hardships she’d faced as a woman herself. She’s, well, you know- old fashioned, rude- about clothing, and appearance, and wildly confused as to why her child’s dress is discordant with her memory: but beneath that, I do still pick up on a deep sense of maternal love, even if she’s a bit misguided. To be able to weave such a sympathetic character takes a lot of delicacy and grace, and Charm pulled it off well.
Also, the formatting of this in general was just lovely. The progression of the story demarcated by the rush towards night and cooler colours in the UI, Sundown as both visual styling/framing and as applied to changes in condition in memory disorders, the placement of the rooms so that it felt intuitive to navigate between them on screen- just really wonderful packaging of a very sad story. I love how the layout of the house is reflected in positioning on screen, just like that cult-y religious story of Charm’s from awhile back, and the little pop up dialogue boxes to examine items was also a nice nod to blending aspects of parser games and choice ones. Lovely synthesis overall between the two.
I love Charm’s work in general, and I’m pleased that this one continues that trend.