Post Script

Looking back on an episodic release like no other

Seven years is a long time in videogames. In episodic videogames it’s an age. Some Life Is Strange 2 players felt put out at having had to wait four months for its finale, yet it’s been some three-anda-half years between Acts IV and V of Kentucky Route Zero. Still, it’s all relative, we suppose – if we’re talking about resolving stories, Cardboard Computer has nothing on Yu Suzuki. Eighteen years after Shenmue II, and by the end of the third game, Ryo Hazuki isn’t an awful lot closer to completing his quest.

It’s unlikely Cardboard Computer intended a sevenyear wait between the opening and final acts, though in taking its sweet time, it has been able to experiment with form. Where most episodic games adopt a narrative template and stick to it, no two episodes of KR0 are quite the same. And that’s before taking the five ‘interludes’, short episodes that explore various side avenues and supporting characters, into consideration. Few indies can afford such luxuries, of course – not least a publisher stepping in to help fund the final act and a console release – but by not adhering to a release schedule, the studio has given itself the room to try different ideas, while avoiding the kind of criticism Telltale often faced for delays.

One unfortunate side-effect of the wait is that a number of narrative-focused indie games have emerged since, and these threaten to take the shine off for new players. Many have been inspired by Kentucky Route Zero – particularly its first two episodes, released in 2013. Some explore similar themes of alienation and disillusion, probing contemporary anxieties or feeding into our desire for community and togetherness at a time of division: think of the conversation-led approach of the likes of Oxenfree and Afterparty (the latter’s theme of alcohol as an escape is also explored here), Three Fourths Home and Mutazione and it’s impossible not to see the influence. Where The Water Tastes Like Wine director Johnnemann Nordhagen has openly acknowledged his debt to Cardboard Computer – “It’s pretty obvious that KR0 is my favourite game of all time, as well as a huge inspiration”, he has said. Sure, Cardboard Computer owes a debt of its own to classic point-and-click adventures. But in shifting away from puzzles about combining items in unlikely ways and towards dialogue, introspection and more meaningful player choice, it has had such an impact that anyone coming to this fresh after playing those games may wonder what all the fuss was about.

It has also presented an unusual conundrum for us. Edge’s approach to episodic games is pretty consistent – we usually review the first chapter of an episodic game and then wait for its finale to cover the whole lot, albeit having played each episode upon release. For Telltale’s games, we remembered enough not to require a replay between episodes. With the gaps getting a little wider – and our ageing memories fading – we allowed ourselves a recap or two for Life Is Strange 2. This time, we opt to go back and replay the first four episodes before diving into the fifth for the first time. We recall individual images, a mood and feel that has lingered in our brains since, fragments of characters, but the details are sketchy. It’s perhaps fitting that it feels like a halfremembered dream, but a refresher is required.

Any concerns – we briefly wonder if Disco Elysium

has spoiled us by making more mechanical hay out of character development – quickly evaporate. There are fleeting occasions where we’re reminded of Mutazione

in particular, but in truth, none of the narrative-focused games we mention feel quite like Kentucky Route Zero.

And we’re impressed anew by just how pliable the characters seem, now we’re getting to help tell their stories for a second time.

And, since we reviewed Act I in – heavens – E251,

we’ve changed, too. There have been a few unwanted additions, of course: a few extra lines and grey hairs here and there, the bags under our eyes weighing heavier by the year. Our blood pressure is up – though that might have something to do with review code arriving at the last minute, one rather fitting, if frustrating, final delay. But it changes our approach to inhabiting these characters, and to our feelings towards them. Conway always seemed ready for the glue factory, and seven years on, we have a much better idea how he feels. We empathise with his aches and pains; when he hobbles, we almost sense a phantom twinge in our own knees. But we’re also a little more tolerant, too; a little more ready to welcome characters we’d previously thought were annoying hangers-on.

Perhaps that’s because we’re also given room to reflect on what’s missing from seven years ago. We think about the bonds we’ve forged that have since broken. Colleagues that have come and gone. Close friendships that are now more distant. Relationships that have faltered and failed. Friends and family members who are no longer with us. In a game about meetings and departures, there are moments that leave a bitter sting for which we’re not fully prepared. Time has not only been kind to Kentucky Route Zero; in our eyes the wait has lent it fresh poignancy.

All of which leaves Cardboard Computer in an unenviable position. With its massively influential – but only – game concluded, the studio faces a crossroads of its own. Whichever direction it chooses, whichever route it heads down, it has left itself a very hard act (or five) to follow.

By not adhering to a release schedule, the studio has given itself room to try different ideas