Someone just blood potioned an old post I had where I was pretty hard on Rohrer. Thought I should post this because I played his new game One Hour One Life for a while last night and I think there’s actually something to it.
Mechanically, it’s an intentionally obtuse Don’t Starve. Everything is fiddly and unintuitive. You can probably technically do anything by yourself, but without outside tools you can only carry one item at a time. This turns even simple tasks into long chains of swapping items and splaying out unfinished widgets on the ground.
While mechanically unremarkable, framing a survival game around the impermanence of life and the nature of familial relationships works way better than I was expecting.
I entered the game as a baby, born to (apparently) a single mother. She was frantically running around, planting carrots and gathering berries. “Stay put. It’s warmer here,” she told me. “Say F when you’re hungry”.
As a baby, you cannot interact with the environment at all. You can only move or speak. The speaking part is actually pretty clever: as a baby you’re limited to saying only a single character at a time. As you grow older, you’re given additional space to write more complex messages.
Since you’re unable to pick up or use anything, you’re entirely reliant on your mother (or another of-age woman) to feed you. My mother zipped around the small farm she had seemingly created by herself, making sure to check in every 20 seconds to see if I was hungry again.
After 5 minutes, I grew hair and my mother asked, “You know how to farm?” She gave me a hoe, showed me how to collect dirt and water the plots. “Always leave one row of carrots so you can replant the seeds.”
As I tended to the garden, my mother was rushing around creating tools, firing things in the kiln, and crafting other items I barely knew the purpose of. “You’re doing such a great job, honey,” she said as I planted berries.
Soon enough I had my own two children. I told them, “Stay here, it’s warm. Say F when you’re hungry,” just like my mom had taught me. I showed the kids how to plant berries, pile up dirt, where to get water.
My mom was visibly older now. She was rushing around to get omelettes made. “I’m so old, and there’s still so much to do,” she said. “Keep ahead of the food,” she said before she died. “There’s never enough.”
I buried her south of the farm. The kids were grown up now, running around collecting supplies. I barely saw them. I couldn’t figure out how to get the berry bushes to yield again, so I only replanted carrots. My hunger bar decreased from eating the same thing over and over.
Our hoe broke, and I couldn’t figure out how to repair it. I tried to make a new one, but I couldn’t find the right supplies in the immediate area. I missed my mom; she’d have known what to do.
The carrot supply dwindled; we were slowly starving. Told my kids to eat the last of the carrots and then go foraging for more food. I died before they got back.
“You died. Age: 44 years. Cause: Starvation”.
I started another game. “Fuk u” said my mother and she abandoned me in the reeds.