A Review by; Josh Rushinock
Life is an experience that is hard to describe in a few sentences, its very meaning being a bit of a running gag in culture as a whole: the ever-present search for the meaning of life, our overarching service to the cosmos and our beliefs. But, more often than not, these things are forgotten in the daily rush of life and the things we love, we hate, and we need to complete.
Sometimes, we don’t realize that every day we live with this assured life, with ground beneath our feet and people we love amongst us, is a gift, something to not be taken lightly. But sometimes… sometimes we are reminded of that precisely when we are most painfully aware that this is a truth.
The latter would be where I found myself as I tackled Narcissu while looking to begin this free indie game series. Coming off rehab for major surgery and the death of a loved one, I likely would not have even played this game if I had remembered what it was about the day I booted up the forgotten file in my Steam collection.
As it stands, I’m incredibly grateful I did not know that, and that I did boot this game up over a year ago to the day.
Ladies and gentlemen, today, we tackle a story about acceptance, struggle, wonder, fragile mortality, and the meaning of life in the face of an assured end. This is Narcissu, 1st and Side 2nd.
And remember:
Sometimes, we don’t realize that every day we live with this assured life, with ground beneath our feet and people we love amongst us, is a gift, something to not be taken lightly. But sometimes… sometimes we are reminded of that precisely when we are most painfully aware that this is a truth.
The latter would be where I found myself as I tackled Narcissu while looking to begin this free indie game series. Coming off rehab for major surgery and the death of a loved one, I likely would not have even played this game if I had remembered what it was about the day I booted up the forgotten file in my Steam collection.
As it stands, I’m incredibly grateful I did not know that, and that I did boot this game up over a year ago to the day.
Ladies and gentlemen, today, we tackle a story about acceptance, struggle, wonder, fragile mortality, and the meaning of life in the face of an assured end. This is Narcissu, 1st and Side 2nd.
And remember:
Now, before we delve into what we have to talk about, there are a few things that need immediate noting. The first being that this is entirely a visual novel in the truest sense, as it has zero gameplay mechanics or even choices. I personally don't mind this at all, as I've always put more emphasis on the plot of something I review than any other factor, focusing on the story and its structure, but it is a note that should be taken seriously before embarking on this journey.
Furthermore, it has a very minimalistic storytelling style, with imagery in the game often amounting to very simple splash pages that are often repeated. Indeed, it might have been better suited to be a series of small books, if not for both the length, which is quite substantial, and the truly amazing soundtrack that really drives home the stories emotional points, both from a fantastic original soundtrack and some well-placed sound effects.
There is indeed an option to have the story voiced-over, and while I’ve dipped my feet in the water on this, for the most part I opted out on that particular option. This is a story translated from Japanese, and because of this some of the writing is a bit suspect, but the voice-overs haven’t been translated so, in my opinion, it’s best to shut them down for the game process. Achievement Hunters beware: The game kind of cheats and makes four of the five achievements be unlocked by playing with either the voice-over’s on, or off, or playing through with a different translator. Best to approach it as what it is: A book… with a CD attached on the back cover.
Have I mentioned the music is really good? No? Well then, I’m glad I didn’t. It’s not good at all. It's exceptional.
This game originally was divided into two separate but successive games: Narcissu, the original story of two characters escape from the seventh floor ward to live their final moments their way, and Narcissu Side 2nd, the story of discovery about the ward with which they stayed in and serves as a prequel to Narcissu 1st. For the sake of this review, we’ll be reviewing them in numerical order, rather than in order of what happens in the timeline.
Furthermore, it has a very minimalistic storytelling style, with imagery in the game often amounting to very simple splash pages that are often repeated. Indeed, it might have been better suited to be a series of small books, if not for both the length, which is quite substantial, and the truly amazing soundtrack that really drives home the stories emotional points, both from a fantastic original soundtrack and some well-placed sound effects.
There is indeed an option to have the story voiced-over, and while I’ve dipped my feet in the water on this, for the most part I opted out on that particular option. This is a story translated from Japanese, and because of this some of the writing is a bit suspect, but the voice-overs haven’t been translated so, in my opinion, it’s best to shut them down for the game process. Achievement Hunters beware: The game kind of cheats and makes four of the five achievements be unlocked by playing with either the voice-over’s on, or off, or playing through with a different translator. Best to approach it as what it is: A book… with a CD attached on the back cover.
Have I mentioned the music is really good? No? Well then, I’m glad I didn’t. It’s not good at all. It's exceptional.
This game originally was divided into two separate but successive games: Narcissu, the original story of two characters escape from the seventh floor ward to live their final moments their way, and Narcissu Side 2nd, the story of discovery about the ward with which they stayed in and serves as a prequel to Narcissu 1st. For the sake of this review, we’ll be reviewing them in numerical order, rather than in order of what happens in the timeline.
The first game is the story of an unnamed protagonist (revealed to be named Atou Yuu, in supplementary works) as he finds himself, for the first time in his life, suddenly quite sick. He had always been an individual without a sense of direction with his life, and at twenty years old, that lack of direction is even more personified with the news that he has severe lung carcinoma. After a series of in and outpatient treatments, he finds himself admitted to the seventh floor of a Christian hospital, where he’s told he will live, awaiting ‘breakthroughs in medical science’.
It is here where the second character is introduced, Setsumi, who is revealed in the prologue to have been in the hospital’s care for nearly ten years, despite her child-like appearance. Indeed, her size and lack of weight is something that is played upon by both characters, as the protagonist notices he’s losing excessive amounts of weight with each passing day, but the speed at which everything is happening makes it difficult to acknowledge it from a first person perspective, and that sets the scene for both of these character's general personalities.
While accepting the inevitability of their situation is something that is pressed in this game, there is an underlying tone of age being a factor in how they go about accepting the sudden, tragic realization that their lives have an end that is not far off the horizon. Because of a combination of maturity level, shock, and general loathing for the lot in life they’ve received, our two main characters seem to find little interest in almost anything. They still have motivation, and even goals before they die, but the crushing weight of the destiny assured to them causes them to turn off the rest of the world, and view it as if through a window, which is perfectly represented by the windows that line the seventh floor, and their ability to only open fifteen centimeters. It’s also embodied in their shared time watching television in the seventh floor lounge, where every day, the protagonist would ask Setsumi if she had any interest in what was on television, and she would reply with a flat, defeated “…not particularly.”
Upon the initial encounter between Setsumi and Yuu, Setsumi imparts on him a list of rules passed down not by the doctors, who had told him he would be waiting on a medical breakthrough, and not by the staff, who would stare at him with understanding, unkind smiles, but instead passed down from patient to patient, setting the tone of what was to come emphatically. This was a place where you came to await an end, and death was not far off. They would allow you to go home if your health is temporarily stable, but you would always return, your death always being chosen between the seventh floor, and home. Upon the third time one leaved the hospital, time would run out. There is never a fourth time being discharged. These were the rules and guidelines to live by and be aware of on the seventh floor.
Furthermore, she explains that if he should wish to escape both home and the seventh floor at any time, he should go to station B, not A, but the reasons behind this are not revealed. She tells him not to eat anything, as that is the quickest way to meet the end of your path and puts the least burden on one’s family. And, in this moment, that is when the protagonist realizes the extent of his situation, the feeling of his final days finally hitting home. Food becoming such a foreign concept that it's actually something of a curse, forcing along your life fruitlessly, and adding financial struggles to one's family on the way out. A sudden awareness of mortality beyond what was already obvious was immediately garnered in our male protagonist, and shared between this other small girl. And so, with each passing day, the two would meet, almost by happenstance, in that same lounge, and have the same conversation, always ending in neither being interested in anything, as if slowly waiting for life's end.
Eventually, small hints of character shine through the dreariness of the situation. Setsumi eventually shows an interest in narcissus, or dandelions, when they're shown on tv, that only grows wild along the shores in Japan. Additionally, we find that she does not wish to die either at home, or in the hospital, and the protagonist, perhaps in an act more of rebellion than of wishing to go somewhere specifically, agrees with this statement. So, upon his Father’s visit to the hospital, he manages to nab a pair of keys to his silver coupe, and the two make their way into a journey that, inevitably, will lead to the end of presumably both their lives, if not at least Setsumi’s, who is not long for this world. With nothing in hand, they make their exit, and thus the wide open road becomes the escape the protagonist so dearly wish in the face of the seventh floor and all it represents.
It is here where the second character is introduced, Setsumi, who is revealed in the prologue to have been in the hospital’s care for nearly ten years, despite her child-like appearance. Indeed, her size and lack of weight is something that is played upon by both characters, as the protagonist notices he’s losing excessive amounts of weight with each passing day, but the speed at which everything is happening makes it difficult to acknowledge it from a first person perspective, and that sets the scene for both of these character's general personalities.
While accepting the inevitability of their situation is something that is pressed in this game, there is an underlying tone of age being a factor in how they go about accepting the sudden, tragic realization that their lives have an end that is not far off the horizon. Because of a combination of maturity level, shock, and general loathing for the lot in life they’ve received, our two main characters seem to find little interest in almost anything. They still have motivation, and even goals before they die, but the crushing weight of the destiny assured to them causes them to turn off the rest of the world, and view it as if through a window, which is perfectly represented by the windows that line the seventh floor, and their ability to only open fifteen centimeters. It’s also embodied in their shared time watching television in the seventh floor lounge, where every day, the protagonist would ask Setsumi if she had any interest in what was on television, and she would reply with a flat, defeated “…not particularly.”
Upon the initial encounter between Setsumi and Yuu, Setsumi imparts on him a list of rules passed down not by the doctors, who had told him he would be waiting on a medical breakthrough, and not by the staff, who would stare at him with understanding, unkind smiles, but instead passed down from patient to patient, setting the tone of what was to come emphatically. This was a place where you came to await an end, and death was not far off. They would allow you to go home if your health is temporarily stable, but you would always return, your death always being chosen between the seventh floor, and home. Upon the third time one leaved the hospital, time would run out. There is never a fourth time being discharged. These were the rules and guidelines to live by and be aware of on the seventh floor.
Furthermore, she explains that if he should wish to escape both home and the seventh floor at any time, he should go to station B, not A, but the reasons behind this are not revealed. She tells him not to eat anything, as that is the quickest way to meet the end of your path and puts the least burden on one’s family. And, in this moment, that is when the protagonist realizes the extent of his situation, the feeling of his final days finally hitting home. Food becoming such a foreign concept that it's actually something of a curse, forcing along your life fruitlessly, and adding financial struggles to one's family on the way out. A sudden awareness of mortality beyond what was already obvious was immediately garnered in our male protagonist, and shared between this other small girl. And so, with each passing day, the two would meet, almost by happenstance, in that same lounge, and have the same conversation, always ending in neither being interested in anything, as if slowly waiting for life's end.
Eventually, small hints of character shine through the dreariness of the situation. Setsumi eventually shows an interest in narcissus, or dandelions, when they're shown on tv, that only grows wild along the shores in Japan. Additionally, we find that she does not wish to die either at home, or in the hospital, and the protagonist, perhaps in an act more of rebellion than of wishing to go somewhere specifically, agrees with this statement. So, upon his Father’s visit to the hospital, he manages to nab a pair of keys to his silver coupe, and the two make their way into a journey that, inevitably, will lead to the end of presumably both their lives, if not at least Setsumi’s, who is not long for this world. With nothing in hand, they make their exit, and thus the wide open road becomes the escape the protagonist so dearly wish in the face of the seventh floor and all it represents.
From here, the story turns into a road adventure, but the threat of Setsumi’s health, especially, becomes one in a series of factors that creates an ambiguous cloud over the entire scenario. This act of taking the reign’s of one’s life back into one's own hand would, in any other story, be the beginning of a quirky adventure, meant to knock off a series of things on a to-do list that will eventually lead to a fulfilled story of grand adventure and going to one’s grave with no regrets. Hell, in any other story, these two would find love within each other and form a relationship that would help them overcome the disease through some form of miracle, and while those style of stories have merit and I’ve enjoyed many that take that format, this is not one of those stories.
This is realism. There is no cure coming their way. They know that, and they don’t have extreme wishes to climb Everest or go to New York City, in fact those sorts of scenarios seem to almost bore them. This tale is plagued with fear and worry of how the two are going to make it the next mile, not how they’ll suddenly overcome their weak state and take on an extreme situation. The extremities is in surviving and finding out where they want to go, and specifically for the protagonist, paying for him and Setsumi, all while trying to coax a location for them to go out of her. The protagonist has never had a clear idea of what he’s wanted to do with his life, this much becomes obvious immediatly, but his arc is almost completed with escaping the hospital in the first place, where as there's a distinct impression Setsumi wants something else entirely, and while the two become more comfortable with one another and form a bond, it makes it all the more crushing when you realize what inevitably awaits them at the end of their journey.
There never was going to be a happy ending to this story. The game doesn’t lie to you, nor does it give you false hope. Instead, it imparts on you a valuable lesson that many go their whole lives without even considering: When you have a finite amount of time left to live, do you have the right to choose how you die?
Throughout the entirety of this story, it’s made clear that both characters have great disdain for the hospital, but are not at home anywhere else, either. Upon visiting hours or whilst they’re at home, they always recount how uncomfortable they are, surrounded by 'fake, unkind smiles’ of people who try excessively hard to treat you as best they can, purely because they know the people they're talking too likely won’t be around for much longer, and that imparts a sense of great guilt that is hard to describe if you’ve never experienced it first-hand. The escape from those barriers, and the barriers of the seventh floor, the notification of the main characters weakness, was always destined to lead to an end of one of their journeys, specifically Setsumi’s.
There is a haunting, reoccurring scene that repeats itself three times throughout Setsumi and Akou’s road trip, in which Setsumi goes toward the waters edge and asks if it would be a peaceful death to drown. Twice, she is held back by the question of if the protagonist would stop her, should she take that step. Upon the third time, she takes her own life, effectively choosing her own end to her story. Setsumi suffered for nearly a decade. Setsumi always had her own, nagging health to prevent her from going where she wished, or doing as she pleased. And in the end, when she saw a way to end it on her own terms… she took it.
This story doesn’t glorify choosing suicide over a natural death. It doesn’t make any point to agree or disagree with her taking her own life, but instead allows a girl who has been suffering for a decade to have an end of her own choosing. It’s not done in a vulgar manner and nor does it teach anyone this is the right thing to do, but neither does it preach that she did something wrong under the circumstances of her fate, or cheapen the suffering and inevitable fate of her severe disease by creating some form of miracle cure.
This story isn’t meant to be one with just one interpretation. It’s a story of coming to terms with one’s own mortality and if one has the right to determining one’s own end. It’s the story of two lost, terminally ill individuals who plot the end of their lives for themselves, and gives them that end in a mature, unbiased fashion.
Choice is a human right, and is this games biggest mantra. Coming to grips with your own mortality in the face of kind yet misunderstanding family and friends, and having the choice to finish your story how you wish too, that is what this game focuses on, and that is something that allows this to become a haunting story that serves as a cohesive, tragic whole.
This is realism. There is no cure coming their way. They know that, and they don’t have extreme wishes to climb Everest or go to New York City, in fact those sorts of scenarios seem to almost bore them. This tale is plagued with fear and worry of how the two are going to make it the next mile, not how they’ll suddenly overcome their weak state and take on an extreme situation. The extremities is in surviving and finding out where they want to go, and specifically for the protagonist, paying for him and Setsumi, all while trying to coax a location for them to go out of her. The protagonist has never had a clear idea of what he’s wanted to do with his life, this much becomes obvious immediatly, but his arc is almost completed with escaping the hospital in the first place, where as there's a distinct impression Setsumi wants something else entirely, and while the two become more comfortable with one another and form a bond, it makes it all the more crushing when you realize what inevitably awaits them at the end of their journey.
There never was going to be a happy ending to this story. The game doesn’t lie to you, nor does it give you false hope. Instead, it imparts on you a valuable lesson that many go their whole lives without even considering: When you have a finite amount of time left to live, do you have the right to choose how you die?
Throughout the entirety of this story, it’s made clear that both characters have great disdain for the hospital, but are not at home anywhere else, either. Upon visiting hours or whilst they’re at home, they always recount how uncomfortable they are, surrounded by 'fake, unkind smiles’ of people who try excessively hard to treat you as best they can, purely because they know the people they're talking too likely won’t be around for much longer, and that imparts a sense of great guilt that is hard to describe if you’ve never experienced it first-hand. The escape from those barriers, and the barriers of the seventh floor, the notification of the main characters weakness, was always destined to lead to an end of one of their journeys, specifically Setsumi’s.
There is a haunting, reoccurring scene that repeats itself three times throughout Setsumi and Akou’s road trip, in which Setsumi goes toward the waters edge and asks if it would be a peaceful death to drown. Twice, she is held back by the question of if the protagonist would stop her, should she take that step. Upon the third time, she takes her own life, effectively choosing her own end to her story. Setsumi suffered for nearly a decade. Setsumi always had her own, nagging health to prevent her from going where she wished, or doing as she pleased. And in the end, when she saw a way to end it on her own terms… she took it.
This story doesn’t glorify choosing suicide over a natural death. It doesn’t make any point to agree or disagree with her taking her own life, but instead allows a girl who has been suffering for a decade to have an end of her own choosing. It’s not done in a vulgar manner and nor does it teach anyone this is the right thing to do, but neither does it preach that she did something wrong under the circumstances of her fate, or cheapen the suffering and inevitable fate of her severe disease by creating some form of miracle cure.
This story isn’t meant to be one with just one interpretation. It’s a story of coming to terms with one’s own mortality and if one has the right to determining one’s own end. It’s the story of two lost, terminally ill individuals who plot the end of their lives for themselves, and gives them that end in a mature, unbiased fashion.
Choice is a human right, and is this games biggest mantra. Coming to grips with your own mortality in the face of kind yet misunderstanding family and friends, and having the choice to finish your story how you wish too, that is what this game focuses on, and that is something that allows this to become a haunting story that serves as a cohesive, tragic whole.
If Narcissu is the story of coming to grips with one’s own fate in the face of those around you not understanding mortality, Narcissu side 2nd is the flip side of that equation.
While this serves a a prequel to the first game and is meant to further explore many of the intricacies that we only scratched the surface of with Setsumi in Narcissu, it also is both twice the length of the original, and it’s own stand-alone story with a brand new character that serves as almost the main protagonist (though its through Setsumi’s eyes) by the name of Himeko Shimhara, and focuses more heavily on the seventh floor itself than the first game had.
Considerably more light-hearted than the first, Narcissu side 2nd was admittedly more difficult for me to get into than the first. Instead of serving as a cohesive whole, it seems to be more divided into several acts that cover Setsumi’s home life, Himeko’s story, flashbacks to Himeko’s past, and Himeko’s sister, who, while not serving as a central character, takes on an important role.
This sudden switch from two patients stories to one of several separate storylines is a bit jarring, but it serves it’s purpose enough to make a unique story in an already interesting setting.
While this serves a a prequel to the first game and is meant to further explore many of the intricacies that we only scratched the surface of with Setsumi in Narcissu, it also is both twice the length of the original, and it’s own stand-alone story with a brand new character that serves as almost the main protagonist (though its through Setsumi’s eyes) by the name of Himeko Shimhara, and focuses more heavily on the seventh floor itself than the first game had.
Considerably more light-hearted than the first, Narcissu side 2nd was admittedly more difficult for me to get into than the first. Instead of serving as a cohesive whole, it seems to be more divided into several acts that cover Setsumi’s home life, Himeko’s story, flashbacks to Himeko’s past, and Himeko’s sister, who, while not serving as a central character, takes on an important role.
This sudden switch from two patients stories to one of several separate storylines is a bit jarring, but it serves it’s purpose enough to make a unique story in an already interesting setting.
Unlike the first game, Narcissu side 2nd goes out of its way to explain in great detail what kind of character our new, second protagonist, Himeko, was before she became sick. Bright spirited and incredibly friendly, she is a self-admitted 'former Christian’ with a knack and love for fixing and driving cars, and is revealed to have worked in the same hospital as the setting of the game for several years as a volunteer. In this two-part prologue, the game goes out of its way to show the most in-depth journey from healthiness to the seventh floor that is humanly possible, showing how Himeko eventually attempts to push everyone in her life away so that none would have to bare her once she arrived on the seventh floor. It’s this that plays as the prologue to Setsumi’s introduction and assures we not only know our second protagonist when the two meet, but know her well enough to make guesses and be more informed than Setsumi will ever know about her, the woman who taught her so much about the seventh floor, even before she ever found herself there.
Taking place a whole seven years before the first, Setsumi finds herself in out-patient care for her own disease. She finds herself brought into a friendship almost against her will by Himeko, alluding early on that the reasons behind their friendship are based on 'a gut instinct’ of 'things to come.’ That, nevertheless, allows the two characters to spend enough time together to coherently show another side to Setsumi, where she finds fun in life, in being friends with this strange girl who taught her all she could of the seventh floor, on nothing but a hunch, and allow us insight into her character outside what we saw in the original.
The seventh floor takes on a life of its own in this game, particularly, as Setsumi’s ponderings and wanderings about its premises without the knowledge of the rules allows for a story that delves deeper into its existence, and shows the helpers that are within, including Himeko’s own sister, and it's that, combined with Himeko’s demeanor, that brings on a certain sense of light-heartedness for the first time in this series. Despite Himeko’s almost matter-of-fact emotionless speeches about her time almost being up and the ten, simple things she wishes to do before she dies, she is kept up-tempo and happy for the majority of the game. This allows for such misadventures as they meet everyday, and Himeko does her best to teach Setsumi what she’ll have to eventually, presumably, know.
One central plot point that allows for an overarching theme is that of Setsumi’s nightly dinners. Her mother and father moved in from the city and, while her father still works outside the city, her mother works in fast food to make a few extra dollars. Each night, her and her mother would sit down and eat dinner together, brought home from her work, and each night, she would offer her daughter a huge amount of fries because she believes her to love them, when in actuality Setsumi dislikes them entirely. She doesn’t tell her mother this because of the guilt she has for how proud her mother is too have dinner with her every night and go out of her way to be kind and caring, and thus this goes back to a previous point from the first game. There is a certain unkindness, Himeko reminds herself throughout, to not telling her mother that she dislikes the fries. Her nail polish burns off, and her fingers have grease stains, all because of these fries, yet Setsumi feels so guilty over her condition and the extra work her mother has to put in that she simply cannot say no, or that she dislikes them. It’s a deep sense of guilt that drives home the lessons from the first game, but in a less 'escapist’ sort of vibe.
Taking place a whole seven years before the first, Setsumi finds herself in out-patient care for her own disease. She finds herself brought into a friendship almost against her will by Himeko, alluding early on that the reasons behind their friendship are based on 'a gut instinct’ of 'things to come.’ That, nevertheless, allows the two characters to spend enough time together to coherently show another side to Setsumi, where she finds fun in life, in being friends with this strange girl who taught her all she could of the seventh floor, on nothing but a hunch, and allow us insight into her character outside what we saw in the original.
The seventh floor takes on a life of its own in this game, particularly, as Setsumi’s ponderings and wanderings about its premises without the knowledge of the rules allows for a story that delves deeper into its existence, and shows the helpers that are within, including Himeko’s own sister, and it's that, combined with Himeko’s demeanor, that brings on a certain sense of light-heartedness for the first time in this series. Despite Himeko’s almost matter-of-fact emotionless speeches about her time almost being up and the ten, simple things she wishes to do before she dies, she is kept up-tempo and happy for the majority of the game. This allows for such misadventures as they meet everyday, and Himeko does her best to teach Setsumi what she’ll have to eventually, presumably, know.
One central plot point that allows for an overarching theme is that of Setsumi’s nightly dinners. Her mother and father moved in from the city and, while her father still works outside the city, her mother works in fast food to make a few extra dollars. Each night, her and her mother would sit down and eat dinner together, brought home from her work, and each night, she would offer her daughter a huge amount of fries because she believes her to love them, when in actuality Setsumi dislikes them entirely. She doesn’t tell her mother this because of the guilt she has for how proud her mother is too have dinner with her every night and go out of her way to be kind and caring, and thus this goes back to a previous point from the first game. There is a certain unkindness, Himeko reminds herself throughout, to not telling her mother that she dislikes the fries. Her nail polish burns off, and her fingers have grease stains, all because of these fries, yet Setsumi feels so guilty over her condition and the extra work her mother has to put in that she simply cannot say no, or that she dislikes them. It’s a deep sense of guilt that drives home the lessons from the first game, but in a less 'escapist’ sort of vibe.
As the game wears on, it becomes more and more clear that Himeko’s intention is to prepare Setsumi for the possibility that she, too, may end up on the seventh floor. Her knowledge of said floor, however, is the biggest question mark in the game, as it's the only part of Himeko’s life that is mysteriously kept just out of the grasp of our knowledge. As the game winds to a close and we begin to see her preparing for what one could assume is the end of her story with several trips outside the city, the game slowly puts the pieces of the puzzle together for us.
As it had been with her, and Setsumi and Yuu years later, Sestumi was taught the secrets of the seventh floor years before she ever found herself sick. A young patient, barely out of the single digits, was taken in by the church in the face of her parents being missing and her being near the end of her path, and it's this young individual that causes Himeko to lose her faith entirely, watching this girl slowly give up on life and accept what was to come, and that memory is what serves to drive Himeko throughout her entire final stay on the seventh floor.
There’s an interesting aspect to Himeko’s faith that I think might be lost on a few members of the audience upon first reading it, and that would be that Christianity is in the vast, vast minority when it comes to religious beliefs in Japanese culture. Setsumi is a member of a belief system that is almost as foreign to the residents of the country as the seventh floor patients are to those left unsick, and it;s her casting away of this system that creates the quiet discontent between her, her sister, and the staff, all of whom are of belief. Everyone around Himeko wants her to find her inner lost faith, but Himeko has cast it aside for many reasons,though when pressed for a short answer, it becomes as simple as it makes little difference in the lives of those who should not die young, and that one particular cardinal sin takes away her ability to choose her own fate.
Setsumi, at this point, has learned to lean on Himeko for support when no-one else around her seemed to understand what she is going through, and the lessons Himeko were to teach her took enough time that, when the time came for Himeko to ask Setsumi to drive with her to what she describes as 'a high point’, a journey's end, which is eventually revealed to be Mount Fuji.
This is where the similarities come together to create a new scenario. Based off the previous game, it's clear that Himeko wishes to jump, but it is Sestumi who for all intents and purposes, begs her not make the jump.
In the original story, were this to happen, Sestumi would have anyway. But this is not the original story, and Himeko is not Setsumi. Hell, Setsumi is not yet Setsumi. Himeko, all her life, has wanted nothing more than to help people, and because she had brought Setsumi, who was not ready for what she was prepared to do, she did not end her life… but this did lead to the end of their meetings. Himeko would disappear, and Setsumi would not know where until her death.
In the end, it was bonds to this world and that same unkind kindness spoken of throughout the series that kept Himeko in place, and led to the self-imposed lonely exile Himeko offered herself. Her own choice was not taken from her, but she had allowed it to be altered by her own love for her friend Setsumi. Whether one or another was right or wrong, that's up for one to debate as it is a matter of opinion, but it tells the opposite story of the first in an effective manor, and truly rounds out Himeko as the best written character in these games.
As it had been with her, and Setsumi and Yuu years later, Sestumi was taught the secrets of the seventh floor years before she ever found herself sick. A young patient, barely out of the single digits, was taken in by the church in the face of her parents being missing and her being near the end of her path, and it's this young individual that causes Himeko to lose her faith entirely, watching this girl slowly give up on life and accept what was to come, and that memory is what serves to drive Himeko throughout her entire final stay on the seventh floor.
There’s an interesting aspect to Himeko’s faith that I think might be lost on a few members of the audience upon first reading it, and that would be that Christianity is in the vast, vast minority when it comes to religious beliefs in Japanese culture. Setsumi is a member of a belief system that is almost as foreign to the residents of the country as the seventh floor patients are to those left unsick, and it;s her casting away of this system that creates the quiet discontent between her, her sister, and the staff, all of whom are of belief. Everyone around Himeko wants her to find her inner lost faith, but Himeko has cast it aside for many reasons,though when pressed for a short answer, it becomes as simple as it makes little difference in the lives of those who should not die young, and that one particular cardinal sin takes away her ability to choose her own fate.
Setsumi, at this point, has learned to lean on Himeko for support when no-one else around her seemed to understand what she is going through, and the lessons Himeko were to teach her took enough time that, when the time came for Himeko to ask Setsumi to drive with her to what she describes as 'a high point’, a journey's end, which is eventually revealed to be Mount Fuji.
This is where the similarities come together to create a new scenario. Based off the previous game, it's clear that Himeko wishes to jump, but it is Sestumi who for all intents and purposes, begs her not make the jump.
In the original story, were this to happen, Sestumi would have anyway. But this is not the original story, and Himeko is not Setsumi. Hell, Setsumi is not yet Setsumi. Himeko, all her life, has wanted nothing more than to help people, and because she had brought Setsumi, who was not ready for what she was prepared to do, she did not end her life… but this did lead to the end of their meetings. Himeko would disappear, and Setsumi would not know where until her death.
In the end, it was bonds to this world and that same unkind kindness spoken of throughout the series that kept Himeko in place, and led to the self-imposed lonely exile Himeko offered herself. Her own choice was not taken from her, but she had allowed it to be altered by her own love for her friend Setsumi. Whether one or another was right or wrong, that's up for one to debate as it is a matter of opinion, but it tells the opposite story of the first in an effective manor, and truly rounds out Himeko as the best written character in these games.
When approaching any sort of story, there is a common belief that the actions of the characters and the environment around them should both mirror and react to one another, and this game has a brilliant sense of exactly that. While the world marches on, unbeknownst to those left behind, the situations and people react in a believable and almost depressing way that makes the stakes and lives of these people we come to care about all the more important.
At the beginning of this review I stated that, sometimes, some media finds you at the most crucial moments of one’s life. Sometimes that as simple as being completely open to a new experience inching itself into your favorite movies or games, and sometimes that takes on a whole new meaning. These are life changing stories, the ones that make you think, or helps you figure out situations in your own life, or just simply cope. When this game found me, I needed it. I was at a point where I needed an unbiased look at life and death, and I feel that it has helped me treat such things in a more mature fashion. Sometimes, something touches you so deeply, it makes you realize that you can be a better person, and this was that experience for me.
If one were to sit down and iron out the stories, they likely would find fault in it, if they wanted to really, really pick everything there is in it apart. But, being a critic sometimes blinds us to being a thinking, emotional consumer. Can you find faults in this? Yes. Absolutely. But does the whole of the project speak true to what it talks about, and can one really say they know enough about being this close to death to judge it beyond what personal experience can discern? Not many can say they’ve had that close an experience, and, ultimately, that is for each person to decide.
Narcissu, as a whole, is a shining example of what a simplistic gaming experience can offer through just telling a story. Its a stunningly truthful and heartfelt look into life, death, terminal illness, suicide, family, and mental stability. But more than anything, Narcissu is a touching story that can, and does, impart lessons upon the reader, even if those lessons may very depending on the reader.
Allow yourself to openly experience journey, and I promise that you will never walk out the other side the same again.
Rating: It’s free, dumbass. Go get it on Steam. Now.
***
Due to my love for this game, I chose to bring back this review now, of all times, because there is a kickstarter out right now for the tenth anniversary of the first games release. The goal is to give an updated translation to the fans for each game, as well as update the images used so there's more character images and audio, as well as translate two brand new stories, one of which has never been released before. I felt it was my duty to put the word out there about these games, and send folks who loved the ideas presented in this review, and the games, enough to go and back the project so that English readers can experience more from this wonderful series than they already have. So, please, if you've got a few dollars to spare, feel free to follow that link and offer a few dollars to the game creators. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below!
At the beginning of this review I stated that, sometimes, some media finds you at the most crucial moments of one’s life. Sometimes that as simple as being completely open to a new experience inching itself into your favorite movies or games, and sometimes that takes on a whole new meaning. These are life changing stories, the ones that make you think, or helps you figure out situations in your own life, or just simply cope. When this game found me, I needed it. I was at a point where I needed an unbiased look at life and death, and I feel that it has helped me treat such things in a more mature fashion. Sometimes, something touches you so deeply, it makes you realize that you can be a better person, and this was that experience for me.
If one were to sit down and iron out the stories, they likely would find fault in it, if they wanted to really, really pick everything there is in it apart. But, being a critic sometimes blinds us to being a thinking, emotional consumer. Can you find faults in this? Yes. Absolutely. But does the whole of the project speak true to what it talks about, and can one really say they know enough about being this close to death to judge it beyond what personal experience can discern? Not many can say they’ve had that close an experience, and, ultimately, that is for each person to decide.
Narcissu, as a whole, is a shining example of what a simplistic gaming experience can offer through just telling a story. Its a stunningly truthful and heartfelt look into life, death, terminal illness, suicide, family, and mental stability. But more than anything, Narcissu is a touching story that can, and does, impart lessons upon the reader, even if those lessons may very depending on the reader.
Allow yourself to openly experience journey, and I promise that you will never walk out the other side the same again.
Rating: It’s free, dumbass. Go get it on Steam. Now.
***
Due to my love for this game, I chose to bring back this review now, of all times, because there is a kickstarter out right now for the tenth anniversary of the first games release. The goal is to give an updated translation to the fans for each game, as well as update the images used so there's more character images and audio, as well as translate two brand new stories, one of which has never been released before. I felt it was my duty to put the word out there about these games, and send folks who loved the ideas presented in this review, and the games, enough to go and back the project so that English readers can experience more from this wonderful series than they already have. So, please, if you've got a few dollars to spare, feel free to follow that link and offer a few dollars to the game creators. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments below!
