Grief is a funny old thing. I played through Closer The Distance, watching to see if anyone’s grieving process mirrored my own. I remember when my grandfather passed away, I felt like I should be more sad than I was. We’d been close, after all. But instead of the painful sadness I was expecting, it was like something had frozen in my chest. A cold lump that just sat there, weighing me down. It was only at the funeral that it shattered, and everything came rushing in.
I share this with you because Closer The Distance‘s greatest strength lies in its depiction of grief. There’s tears and shouting, of course, but the interesting parts (from an outsider perspective) come after that. When there’s no more tears and no more rage, and all they’re left with is a hollow space in their heart, which they try to fill in. Closer The Distance explores this through a grounded cast of characters, who I found myself warming to, even if the gameplay method it chooses is a little… weird.
Ashes To Ashes
Closer The Distance has two main themes in my mind, both of which stem from the same event: the death of Angela. She was a vibrant character, determinedly filling the world with life, even as she wrestled with a chronic disease that threatened to diminish it. It’s her spirit that guides the gameplay, something we’ll get to in a moment. The first theme is how death tears apart the people closest to it. Like Angela’s sister, Conny, who’s lost her place in the world. Or Zek, a carpenter’s son who desperately wishes to escape the village in which he lives. The characters in general are very well written, and decently voice acted.
The village, by the way, is called Yesterby. It’s important, because it’s a tiny community. So Angela’s death doesn’t just threaten to tear apart the people, but the village itself. That’s the second theme. Zek’s fractuous relationship with his father, which splintered after his mother’s death, risks getting worse. Jasper is trying to revitalise the village through a boat lodge project, but people are using Angela’s name as a weapon against it. It goes to show how important the bonds between people are in these small towns, and how severing one can cause disastrous ripples amongst the townsfolk.
I bring up these themes because it’s Closer The Distance‘s bread and butter. If the idea of listening to sad people talk isn’t your cup of tea, then it’s not for you – which is fine. For me, the intelligent writing and an excellent use of pacing really clicked with me. The whole story is over a number of weeks, allowing it to breathe. It’s helped by a wonderful soundtrack – complete with a decent singer – and a pleasant artstyle. That said, the character models themselves are a bit weird. They’re oddly polygonal, and their faces look like they wandered in from the horror game next door. Not my kind of style, especially compared to the beautiful portraits.
Dust To Dust
But I’ve rambled about story enough, let’s touch on the gameplay. It’s… odd. Closer The Distance bills itself as a slice-of-life sim and while that’s technically accurate, it’s a peculiar one. The peculiarity boils down to one fact: the player is almost unnecessary. We are essentially Angela’s voice, guiding people to follow their buried desires. So in the case of Galya, the local doctor, we guide them to accept their own happiness with their partner, Leigh. But if we don’t suggest things, they’ll go about their lives just fine. To me, this has a good side and a bad side.
On the good hand, it makes the characters feel alive. They’ll regularly converse with each other, having detailed and realistic conversations that you didn’t force to happen. Each character has their own routines and desires. Yesterby feels alive and its people feel connected. The downside is that we have very little to do. We can control five characters, but we mainly give suggestions for what to do – and they’ll just ignore it if it doesn’t fit the routine. It feels a bit too hands off, for me. Worse than that, it feels a little disturbingly voyeuristic at times. Seeing Angela’s dad, Axel, burst into tears at the dinner table made me feel uncomfortable in a way that I’m not sure was intended.
I also feel like the gameplay is too full of redunancies. For one thing, for each of your playable characters, you have hunger and sleep meters, along with bespoke mood meters. Conny needs routine or harmony, for instance, while Zek craves accomplishment and belonging. You might think this is a Sims-esque mechanic but, in practice, there aren’t really any consequences for letting any of them get too low. It also has a habit of telling you how a character is feeling, which doesn’t mesh well with the good writing. Seeing a nice cutscene play out, only for a character to pop into the ‘sad’ mood feels a bit weird. You’ve just done a good job of showing sadness, Close The Distance, don’t spoil it.
Closer The Distance – Beautifully Distant
The upshot is that, towards the end of the game, my controller spent more time on my desk than in my hands. I also didn’t really feel like I was making many choices. I’d give prompts to do things, but characters acted it out alone. I find that I don’t hate it though. It makes me think of other narrative experiences, where the gameplay amounts to just pushing forward. I prefer this method of gameplay. It’s a lot more absorbing and our nudging, and the way we experience the conversations as they happen, made me feel a lot more invested.
It’s a game that’s meant to be experienced more than it’s played, I think. I didn’t come away at the end feeling that it was a job well done, but I did feel satisfied that a nice story had come to a beautiful end. It comes down to what you want out of a game. If your focus is on satisfying, exciting gameplay then look elsewhere. But if you’re willing to sacrifice gameplay satisfaction for a touching story full of well-rounded characters, then you should absolutely take a look at Closer The Distance.
