Dear Esther first came out as a mod for Valve's Half-Life 2 in 2008 by indie developer thechineseroom. It's very simple: you are on an island, and as you walk from one side to another, snippets of the island's story are told by your character in the form of letters he has written to his late wife. It was promising, and indeed rounded up a cult following, but it's amateurish design was a major downfall. I'll be frank- I only played about 3 minutes into the original Dear Esther because its environmental design was just downright awful.My experience basically constitutes walking along the shore of the island on the only obvious path, until the game kills me for wandering off. The level geometry in the mod is particularly overcomplicated and shoddy; aside from the pathways along the cliff sides being very confusing in itself, I was once flung about 50 feet for squeezing between two rocks. What's more, the narration occasionally whispers "come back...," sometimes even talking over itself. Not only is it annoying, it's confusing. In fact, I heard this before I really even went anywhere in the game. So... come back to what? Now, get this, I was later informed that this narration wasn't directed at me at all, but was actually my character pining for his dead wife. While the intent of this mechanic is understandable in retrospect, this, along with the environmental design, is a transgression on one of the most fundamental concepts of game design: not confusing your player when teaching him how the game's system works. And even if Dear Esther not a game per se, this principle still applies to almost anything interactive; it's why malls have maps in front of every entrance and school courses have syllabi; people can only interact with a system as correctly and elegantly as information about it is handed to them.
But at the same time, this is still a title I'm very glad exists. Whether it succeeds or fails, only good things can come out of experimentation. (Ethical experimentation, anyway.) And despite the bad taste the finished product left in my mouth, I could see the potential from the get go. The writing was very elegant, the narration eloquent and the music was very atmospheric and engaging. My problem is that the quality of the product itself seemed to kill whatever immersion these elements would hope to create.
Fortunately, its positive merits didn't die with the rest of experience. A year later, Robert Briscoe, a former employee of DICE (the developers of the Battlefield series and Mirror's Edge) began collaborating with thechineseroom to revamp the game to become an independent commercial product of a much more professional quality. Did they succeed? Short answer: yes.
For starters, the Source engine allowed the team to make a much more graphically appealing environment. But I'm not giving them credit for the engine- that would be like complementing the painter on the canvas. It's what the developers were able to do with it that counts, and what they did do with it is just amazing. The vistas on the cliff tops, the glow of the minerals in the caverns, the moonlit ocean- there are no words for how stunning the art direction in this game was.
Now, as for the experience itself... When it comes to video games (or related interactive media, as the case may be), I find there is seldom a better way to tell a story than through its environment. And storytelling via level design is not just what Dear Esther is, that's ALL it is. The narration that guides you along the way fills the island with context and exposition, and the beautiful soundtrack helps establish the world with a somber tone, but ultimately you discover the details of the island for yourself. I don't mind this actually, as it allows the narrator to be informative and emotional, but nonintrusive and subtle. Presentation is really all Dear Esther offers, and what it has is magnificent. And I'll admit without spoiling anything, I teared up a bit towards the end.
There's really little else to discuss about the Dear Esther in terms of its content, but what brings my attention to the game more than anything else is what it implies. One of the shortcomings of written and spoken language is that all words are connotative, having different connections and meanings for different people. Most words have a strong objective definition, but this quality leads us to argue the meaning of certain words when something comes along to tread on the bounds of what they define. "Art" and "game" are such words. So what is Dear Esther's role? Is it either of these? Is it none? There may very well be as many answers as there are people, but if you ask me, it's most certainly art, as well as a game. The way I see it, "art" covers anything intended to incite an emotional reaction from or spread an idea to people while a "game" is a subset of art whose final expression is incomplete without the interaction of a participant. And Dear Esther certainly covers both bases, but again, those are just semantics that anyone can fill the blanks for.
Ultimately, Dear Esther is a very niche title; it's not even close to something that would appeal to everyone, but it helps to know that when going into it, you shouldn't expect a game, at least what most would envision as one. But if you want a visual novel, a simulated walk on the beach with a fascinating, enigmatic tale to keep you company, look no further.
