System Erasure is a tiny game development studio based in Finland. The only two members of the team have so far managed to create two staggeringly different entries into their repertoire. The first is the high octane shoot-em-up 'ZeroRanger' where the player is tasked with being the sole defender of earth against an overwhelming alien fleet. The second being the far more subdued sokoban (block pushing) puzzler where the player delves deeper and deeper into a cryptic labyrinth in search of something at the bottom. While on the surface these two experiences seem to hold little in common with the other, astute individuals will notice peculiar details amongst the sparse store pages of both of their games. What kind of shoot-em-up would include “mystery” as one of the major selling points of the game? Why does the seemingly medieval fantasy presentation of Void Stranger's trailer contain a cutaway of what seems to be a mech? Indeed, there is more to investigate on those fronts but I will not discuss these things in depth. Instead, the spotlight will be on the major thematic connection that underpins both games regardless of gameplay or setting. Both of System Erasure's games want you to give up and succumb to despair.

Games that want you to stop playing

spoilers for “Spec Ops: The Line” and “Undertale”

The concept of a game that presents a narrative which brings to attention the player's active participation isn't unique. These games are often dubbed as 'meta' though it isn't necessarily a prerequisite for that kind of storytelling. What likely comes to mind for many would be the final boss of Undertale's appropriately named “genocide route”. Over the course of repeated thrashings the final boss in question takes time to explain that in order to stop you they must present an insurmountable challenge to get you to lose interest and quit. Presenting an in-universe justification for the unexpected jump in difficulty inflicted on the player. This is framed as an act of heroism on behalf of the boss, as in this scenario the player is quite clearly made out to be the villain.

Alternatively, one could look at “Spec Ops: The Line” where a generic third person military shooter centres around a main character who's singular obsession with an end goal is used as a justification for more and more reprehensible actions. This goes to a point in which the game begins to call you out in the loading screens asking if you “feel like a hero yet?”. This is a compelling narrative, and I can attest to feeling like a terrible person in being complicit to the events of the games through my shared drive to see the game to its end. Perhaps in retrospect the best choice would have been to stop playing, upon having realized my motivations were corrupt.

What makes System Erasure's games noteworthy (besides the excellent game design, art, music etc.) is that they flip this script on its head. Instead of critiquing a player's decent into darkness they instead pose a debilitating threat which the player is then invited to overcome. It instead becomes a trial of triumph in the face of adversity, every setback designed to shatter your resolve, every barrier broken begets an even greater challenge. At times it feels the game is laughing at you, relishing in your seemingly futile efforts to summit the ever growing mountain climb set before you. All this in service of the hope that you, the player, decide to end it all and move onto something else.

DO: 1. NOT 2. GIVE 3. UP.

In this framing it is plain to see why these experiences can be unpalatable to many. However this scaffolding is the bones with which System Erasure fleshes out a narrative that makes these games compelling. The depths of despair that the player may find themselves in percolates into the vessel they inhabit. The personal journey one takes when attempting one of these games becomes as much a part of the story as the textual content itself.

To that end, the successes and failures the player experiences also become the character's shared milestones. Ultimately the fate of the character and the overall story is left in the hands of the player guiding them. Should the proverbial suffering become too much to bear and the player unwittingly provides a silent and unspoken “no” to the video game mantra of “do you wish to continue?”, this too reflects on the story being told. With the game having been dropped what remains is a tale of a valiant challenger tackling the adversity they face head-on and failing, left to the whims of the forces that opposed them. This is by all means a “bad ending” and it all takes place with barely a single dialogue option.

If you reverse this outlook however, you instead get a tale that is electrifying. Despite their better judgement, despite all the slings and blows, the player steels their resolve and carries onward. Stoking the flames of determination as it lights the way to the shores of victory. Their human spirit remaining indomitable as they persevere to reach what can only be described as nirvana. This is the story that System Erasure seeks to craft with their players.

It is with absolute certainty that I say that System Erasure delivers some of the most exhilarating rewards in the medium for the players that commit to sticking with their experiences. The satisfaction coming in part from the sheer difficulty that the players faced matched with the elation that the journey is over. The bizarre form of Stockholm syndrome could be easily dismissed as self fulfilling if not for the absolute grandeur and spectacle of these climactic endings. So bombastic are these conclusions that it almost becomes an experience in ascending to the divine, shedding your mortal shell to comet through the stars.

Story of a Sojourner

It's unlikely that the player's path to that aforementioned state will be direct. In my personal experiences with both ZeroRanger and Void Stranger there were periods of committed progress and then there were long stretches where I would put the game down. In a normal scenario I would probably have left these games behind me, making peace with however deep I got into them. However I found it uniquely difficult to fully drop these games, burdened with the lingering feeling of unfinished business. In service of advocating for these games I believe it is necessary to discuss my personal experiences with them.

In the case of ZeroRanger, without tipping the game's hand too heavily, there is a major point in the story in which the player chooses to risk everything to continue. Ultimately, it is unlikely the player will be successful on their first attempt, and so must undertake the process of retrying after their failure. In a game in which you are facing a constant onslaught of enemies and bosses, this moment functions as a particularly deep gut punch to your progress. This is softened by the fact that every attempt is accompanied by knowledge gained which can then be applied to further attempts. Repetition breeds mastery, fuelled by the player's self confidence and willingness to persevere.

I would occasionally have bursts of playtime interspersed with long periods of doing something else. With each spat of commitment to the game I slowly circled towards the gravitational well that is the game's conclusion. While I may have been orbiting this game for years, I was inching closer and closer to my final goal. Until one humble evening I booted the game after another long period of downtime with no preconceptions or desires for any particular result. I played, and played, and found myself doing better than I had ever done before. Before I know it, I faced that final barrier once more, and choose to push onwards. At this point I've become so well acquainted with the game that even if I lost here it barely constitutes as a setback. Risking everything, I keep moving forwards, my little virtual spaceship has been shed and my very ego is laid bare. My screen dances with colours and lights, and I find myself dancing with them. I've been here before, but this virtual dance partner previously had me stumbling over my feet and leaving me in the dust. This time, however, it's like I have known these motions my whole life. Step, step, twirl, I trip. My heart is beginning to race, I just have to keep it together for a little longer. I move on instinct, and worry how long I can keep this going for. Just as I was about to give out, and get sent back to that familiar starting position I open my eyes to see something I hadn't seen before. I realize I made it through, I have actually felled this beast. I would've screamed for joy but... it was 1 in the morning.

In the case of Void Stranger, instead of the high octane action of its older sibling, you are instead subjected to the mental strain of a gauntlet of puzzles. However despite the completely different setting the same rule applies here as it did in ZeroRanger, that being “knowledge is power”. In playing this game I assembled a board of notes that would grow alongside the things that I learned. Despite that, I ran out of steam my first time in. It wasn't until another person encouraged me to continue trying several months down the line that I picked the game back up and made some major revelations which completely changed the game, that I was sure to have seen everything the game had to offer. Only to face walls so impenetrable that despite all my notes and deranged reasonings I could not find a way to continue, so I stopped again.

It wasn't until this summer, roughly a year later that I happened to stumble on my notes for Void Stranger, idly thinking “ah yes I would like to finish this game sometime”. As I peered once more upon my scribblings I began to notice some connections that I hadn't noticed all those months ago. I began rearranging these pieces I had collected. Next I realized I was staring at this shape I've assembled in my notes, the culmination of all of my efforts. I had finally made what might just be the proverbial key to this locked door that prevented my progress. There was no other choice but to open this game once more, and see if it fits... click!

You can probably figure out the rest.

Embrace the void

It would be pertinent to add one final note to this discussion. While these games are quite challenging, they are by no means miserable experiences. On the contrary, I consider these to be some of the best games I have ever played. I would hope that in reading this dissection you might wish to investigate these games yourself. Much like how someone else helped give me a little boost when I was playing Void Stranger, I would be more than willing to give tips and guidance for either of these games. More than anything, if you do decide to dive into these experiences then...

May you attain enlightenment

Until next time!

You have 7 Days

Within the first minutes of the game, The World Ends With You (TWEWY) tells you all you need to know about Neku Sakuraba. That he would like nothing more than to close himself off from the world. That interaction with another human is a chore. That he does not understand other people. This would be fine enough if not for one small issue. At the start of the game Neku finds himself under the threat of death, and must survive 7 days of “The Reaper's Game” to gain his freedom.

How does one survive the reaper’s game?

Unfortunately for Neku, he’ll need a partner.

For a developer designing a video game where you play as a character who dislikes other people but must begrudgingly work with someone else to succeed, your first major hurdle is in the dissonance between the player and their character. You, the player, don’t hate other people (I hope), and you have no investment in an angsty teen’s qualms with society. Yet, for your character, being chained to another person to live may be a fate worse than death itself. How would you imprint onto the player that same feeling, of wanting to be alone, of not understanding others?

Even further, if Neku's disposition against people changes, how do you convey this without alienating the player? Does the player just watch from the sidelines as they see this character morph with no connection between Neku and the player?

Other games attempt to resolve this by making the character relatable somehow. They may bear characteristics shared by its targeted demographic. Alternatively, you could forgo personality entirely. Make your character an empty husk in which the player is expected to fill the void with their own interpretations or ideals.

Instead, the way TWEWY solves this disconnect is one of the most subtle yet effective ways I have seen of getting the player in the same mindset as their character. The entire experience revolves around this solution.

Have the player control both Neku and his partner.

It sounds simple, but make any mistakes and the results crumble. Too easy or too hard, the outcome will be that the player ignores their partner, and that dissonance will remain.

Such a mechanic would need to be strange, yet can be grasped. Difficult, yet surmountable. At first it may seem obfuscated, but with time comes clarity. It needs two screens.

It needs two screens

The Nintendo Dual Screen (Nintendo DS) is a handheld video game device that much like its name implies has two screens. One regular screen on the top and on the bottom a touch sensitive one. The device was known for printing money for Nintendo, but also due to its design it provided a means of interaction that could not be found on any other device. This resulted in a huge swath of unique and original games for the system.

Some personal favorites include Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, Rhythm Heaven, WarioWare: Touched, and of course, The World Ends With You. None of these games could have been made had it not been for the DS and especially so for TWEWY since the gameplay is closely intertwined with the narrative.

So how does TWEWY effectively utilize both screens in order to convey that feeling of unfamiliarity in cooperation?

The bottom screen has you controlling Neku with the stylus and the top screen has you controlling his partner. You control the partner by pressing the face buttons to attack and defend. Both partners are fighting their own battle against a set of enemies, but their health pool is shared.

A player's first exposure to the control scheme requires a minor acclimatization period regardless of the game or system. However, for TWEWY you are handed the additional load of juggling both battles at once. There's an awkward sensation that permeates your first exposure to the combat system.

The language I use to describe the initial feelings about the gameplay can likewise be used to describe Neku’s perspectives on interacting with people. There’s a sense of friction handed to the player that perfectly matches the feelings Neku has about having to cooperate with someone. Neku doesn’t get people, and you don’t get how to play this game.

Even better, this metaphorical link between you and Neku can be extended through the entire runtime of the game. As you become more familiar with the systems and mechanics that govern gameplay, so too does Neku learn to open himself up to others.

Becoming an experienced player will result in you making use of a baton pass system (represented by the green ball), that rewards you for keeping up a rhythm of attacks between both Neku and his partner. This additional mechanic symbolizes not only Neku learning to trust his partner, but you learning to trust yourself to control the other screen without looking directly at it.

By the end of the 7 days, Neku's connection to his partner has sprouted and flourished, represented by your mastery of the gameplay. Your battles play out like clockwork, hit this enemy, switch focus to partner, defend, attack again. The unspoken bond between Neku and his partner represents an unhesitating trust he now puts in them. A commitment between two people and an appreciation of who they are.

Neku made a friend.

A New Day

All of these nuances are conveyed not only through dialogue, but reinforced through gameplay. This significantly elevates the narrative from more traditional forms of storytelling and utilizes the medium it is presented in to its fullest extent. Had this story been presented as an anime, movie, or book, a lot of the substance would be lost. Even more than that, this gameplay is only achieved due to the system it was designed for. Despite this, Square Enix has made several ports for Android, iOS and Switch, as well as an anime adaptation. While these translations are not bad, their effect is lackluster in comparison to the original DS version. However I recognize that not everyone has access to a DS and would rather people experience this story on these platforms than not at all.

There's more that can be said about this specific topic, but in the interest of keeping things relatively spoiler free I will not elaborate on them. If this article has at all interested you in playing the game I would highly recommend it, regardless of your platform of choice.

Until next time!