Dear Esther Review

Game, or poem?

The island waits...

When Brighton-based developer 'The Chinese Room' originally released Dear Esther back in 2012, there was much argument as to whether this was a game, or simply something very pretentious pretending to be one. However, that completely misses the point. Dear Esther is not a game at all – there is no challenge, no interactivity, no major elements of choice. There is only walking the paths of this windswept and moody island off the coast of Scotland, and the voice of a man as he reads fragmented extracts from letters addressed to his long dead wife. This, if anything, is a poem which allows you to walk through its very DNA.

It's really up to you, the first person character in this one hour (ish) journey, to decide what Dear Esther should be defined as. You begin the game on a stone jetty, looking up at a derelict lighthouse, the island stretching into the distance either side of you, a bright red light atop what could only be a radio mast blinking in the distance. This singular blinking light, by the way, is also your goal, as you walk the rugged hillsides, the silent ravines, the shipwrecked beaches, and traverse some of the most beautiful caves in gaming. If anything, the character in the story is the setting itself. The narrative is so atmospheric and hauntingly beautiful: a result of the sounds of the sea and the wind, of gulls crying, and the peaceful yet somewhat unsettling soundtrack that accompanies you on your journey.

This location is a place you can get lost in, but considering the narrator's past, and the themes of redemption and regret that stitch everything together, the quiet serenity of this island is also mixed with something else. Something darker, yet too far to pose a threat. A woman's voice can be heard singing as you edge around luminescent pools of emerald water in the deepest of caves; silhouetted figures watch you on hilltops, sometimes signalling to you with a lantern before vanishing out of sight. It's unsettling enough for you to be intrigued, but never jumps out at you in horror-like fashion, which would disrupt the beauty – and mystery – of this island, where everyone is and why it's been abandoned.

The beauty of the game's glistering caves

It's very challenging to discuss the narrative of a game like Dear Esther without spoiling everything – but what I will say is this: no matter how high-brow and unusual the commentary first seems, underneath are layers upon layers of rich context that paints a vivid, if not choppy-ocean, picture about what has happened to our main characters. A man steeped in regret of his past – someone so lost and yet has no interest to be found. Despite the handful of mysteries presented to us on the island, the game's narrator is only at times too relatable when it comes to matters of human nature, of the heart, and – eventually – what the summit of redemption looks like.

My only criticism of the game was it's length – far too short! Which, ironically, isn't really a criticism. And maybe some simple elements of interaction, such as picking up and examining objects with closer detail, would have been a good way for the narrator to interact further with the environment, boosting the immersion and allowing the player – or the 'experiencer' to piece together the puzzle and come to their own conclusions. But at the same time, perhaps such things would only burden the fluidity of this short but sweet story, and make it more of a traditional 'game', which Dear Esther is anything but.

If you can, play Dear Esther today and experience the story and atmosphere of this trail-blazing gem for yourself.