Firewatch and Octopath Traveler, and the importance of a good introduction

Sometimes I struggle with new games, with new worlds, and I wonder if it’s just me. I struggle in the sense that I can feel myself resisting them and refusing to accept them. I can feel them pushing new things on me, new worlds full of people and history and problems, and I know how much they want me to care. But we’ve only just met; I don’t care. Just because I pressed “play” doesn’t mean I’m automatically invested in what’s going on. And I wonder if some games lose sight of that. Maybe it’s not me – maybe it’s games that struggle with introductions.

That’s why I was struck playing Firewatch this weekend (it’s now on Game Pass) and by how strong an opening be, and how seemingly effortlessly it can coax you into caring about the world you’re in.

It doesn’t do much, Firewatch, and maybe therein lies the secret, in the lightness of its touch. The opening involves your character picking up a backpack, throwing it in the back of a truck, driving up to the hills and then walking through the forest to a Firewatch tower. You’re in control of this, walking a few feet or interacting with a couple of items, but you don’t do much, and there are scene-jumps forward to speed things up. It’s like a montage of a journey.

In between these scenes are memories – memories of your life up to this point. They’re short bits of text, with very light interaction, relaying a poignant chain of events which explain why you’re there, why you’re doing what you’re doing – who you are. It’s everything you could want to know about a character’s place in the world delivered in one short sequence. And at no point has the game stood you still to grandstand you about why you should care. Instead it keeps you moving, keeps you playing, and drops in crucial details along the way. By the time the introduction is over, you’re in. It’s brilliantly judged.