Dear Me, I Was

Life passes by quickly. One moment we are scrawling rainbows on the wall with crayons; the next we are filling in mortgage paperwork, but sometimes it’s important to take a moment and reflect – as Hayao Miyazaki once said, “Is someone different at age 18 or 60? I believe one stays the same.” – something that the short, sweet story of Dear Me, I Was takes in its stride.

With a run-time of less than an hour, the game relies entirely on vivid visuals to deliver a self-contained narrative about life, presented to the player through snippets in a beautiful watercolour style – each of its nine chapters and ensuing epilogue portray a snapshot of the main character’s life, following a journey of life and self-expression from childhood to old age. There are very few words shown on screen (with the exception of the main menu), as Dear Me, I Was embodies the old writer’s adage “show, don’t tell”, trusting the player to understand and interpret each scene as shown.

The animation will be immediately familiar to fans of the Hotel Dusk (remaster it, you cowards) and Another Code games, with Taisuke Kanasake at the artistic helm to produce bold, vivid watercolour scenes which have been animated with Rotoscoping, a form of animation that overlays real actors to create a fluid, realistic motion without compromising artistic vision – there have been very few games animated like this in recent years, but action-platformer Lunark and the 2021 remakes of the Famicom Detective Club games proved that it still has a home in modern media – I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention the 2006 movie adaptation of Philip K Dick’s A Scanner Darkly, which used the style on a grand scale.

The story itself holds incredible weight despite the runtime, offering highlights of each era in the main character’s life through their joy, sorrow and tragedy – it would take a heart of stone to make it through some parts of the game without sobbing like a child, something I am very much guilty of as I progressed through the game. The way colours are used throughout to contrast the emotions of each person is astounding, paired brilliantly with the core themes of expression through art and what happens when our own colours stop shining through.

Like a fine wine, the artistic style of the game is paired wonderfully with a gentle piano soundtrack, always feeling in tune to the scene at hand, whether that be a bright and uplifting trip to the beach or a sombre view from a hospital seat – it isn’t paired with much else in the sound design, as most of the game revolves around the narrative itself, but its simplicity is what makes it stand out. 

Despite an incredible presentation, the game isn’t without its faults; the first thing most players will notice is that, quite simply, there isn’t much actual gameplay going on – with fairly light interactive scenes usually built around tapping food to eat it, or swiping an object such as a letter from right to left, most of your time with Dear Me, I Was will actually be spent simply watching each scene pass by – it feels very reminiscent of Venba in that respect, so it likely won’t be a great experience for every player, but if you are looking for a short-form visual novel (albeit without the novel), you will find satisfaction in the game.

Outside of gameplay, I also found that time between each scene was an issue, with some finishing within only a few seconds before hanging on a still image while the next loads – this took me out of scenes at times, though to call it a major distraction would be unfair; the issue of time between scenes would be less of an issue in a longer game, but the short runtime compounds the issue further, making it more evident, especially in a single-session playthrough.

Even with some minor issues, the game offers such a refreshing story presented in a stunning way – a part of me wonders whether the entire game was just an excuse for Taisuke Kanasake to show off, but regardless of the reason, it can’t be discounted as anything less than a delightful narrative experience. There’s also something hilarious about Arc System Works, the developers of the renowned fighting game Guilty Gear, making something brimming with such tenderness.

Without offering spoilers, I feel it would be remiss not to mention the epilogue, which caps off the game in such a clever and endearing way, giving further weight to the choice of animation style and presentation – if nothing else, players who start this experience owe it to themselves to finish it for this scene alone.