NIGHT IN THE WOODS
Keep your friends close and your ennui closer
Two things are certain about this narrative platformer: you’re in for a big surprise; and despite first appearances, it’s less ‘teddy bears’ picnic’ than ‘existential horrorscape’. Wait, don’t turn the page! There are also hilarious furry friends! Thank goodness. Back in your sleepy home town of Possum Springs after a failed attempt at flying the nest, inhabiting the squat feline mass/mess that is Mae Borowski (college dropout, terrible person, occasional committer of crimes) is made easier by the company you keep.
Excitable fox-dude Gregg, his sensible and sweet boyfriend Angus the bear, and worldweary crocodile goth Bea are an absolute blast to hang out with. Laugh-out-loud irreverent and genuine to a fault, interacting with Night In The Woods’ bright and varied cast and locale gives you your reasons to crawl out of bed in the mornings. It can be dodging your mum’s breakfast table questions; choosing to hear Selmers’ odd little poems; coaxing Bea into swiping belt buckles at the local mall; smashing tube lights with Gregg; teetering along power lines; or frantically trying to keep up with the bass-playing rhythm minigame. It doesn’t matter. Not a lot does, really.
Night In The Woods’ great achievement is taking that crushingly nihilistic, early-20s realisation and making it into a funny, dorky, scary, whip-smart expression of Millennial dread.
STRANGER SPRINGS
Terror takes a more literal form as the threads of Mae’s story get tangled up in a mystery plot later in the game. Ironically, it’s in this more narratively urgent stage that the pace drags. The quasi-nightly dream sequences you must hop through quickly start to repeat basic ideas, and technical jank mars the atmosphere. The ultimate explanation for some of the spookier goings-on about town rings a bit hollow, too: a real sore thumb in an experience that’s otherwise uncannily, achingly real.
But the final act pulls it back with a mature, note-perfect ending. “Well, that happened”, it says, its characters say, you say. There’s a sense you and your new pals are different for it, even if you’re not quite sure how exactly. It’s neither happy, nor sad – weirdly reassuring in its vast, calm uncertainty. S**t happens, says Night In The Woods. It’s who you’re with, when it does, that matters.
VERDICT
Forgive its clumsier moments. Play it for its brill soundtrack, lovable-unlovable cast and charmingly rendered brand of nihilism. Then, for god’s sake, call your parents. Jen Simpkins