Wanderstop

Wanderstop is a game written for the soul. It brings to the surface one’s own hurts and hangups and asks them to sit down for a cup of tea. In fact, there is something so uniquely exposing about this world, that the script takes a backseat to the player’s internal discovery. Wanderstop helped me slow down, tackle a few non-urgent tasks, or not, and ultimately listen to a part of myself that has been begging to talk for a while. 

As the debut title from Ivy Road, a charming new indie game studio under the influence of Davey Wreden and Karla Zimonja, I had rather high expectations. Davey has a decorated history making games that speak directly to the player, and Karla adds her experience creating rich, emotional, and personal stories. I am delighted to report that this mixture of talent gives Wanderstop a narrative flavour unlike any other. Intimate in scope, yet cosmic in its revelations. 

The story of Wanderstop follows Alta, a warrior with an unquenchable thirst for greatness. She has climbed the ranks among her rivals and is enjoying her position at the top of the leaderboard until one day she slips up. She loses one battle after another, and her confidence is rattled to the point of despair. Her fall from grace, as she understands it, is because she grew complacent. Thus, she takes to the forest to find a legendary warrior who will train her back to her former glory. 

Before making much progress at all, Alta suddenly collapses from exhaustion and wakes up to find herself on a bench next to a plump man with a beaming smile. This is Boro, a tea shop owner who found Alta in the woods and took her back to his clearing for some much-needed R&R. The relationship between these two begins to steep, slowly, as Alta disengages her defences to Boro’s gentle and repeated encouragement to “return to neutral.” 

Once Alta realises she can’t outrun her issues, the gameplay loop begins in earnest. On the surface, this is a formulaic management sim. Boro will teach Alta to tend the garden and complete tasks such as planting seeds, watering sprouts, picking fruit, sweeping brush, trimming weeds, and drying tea leaves for a brew. While ostensibly mundane, these activities serve as a good routine for both Alta and the player to settle into the mellow mood of Wanderstop. There are no time constraints here, nor checklists to work on, nor a sense of urgency whatsoever. As Boro reminds Atla, “there is nothing to be gained, just existing.” 

After some time simply “existing,” things take an exciting turn as the first of many guests arrives in the clearing. Not only will these guests have outlandish personalities, but also absurd appetites, so Boro will train Alta in the art of making tea that can rise to the occasion. This of course involves the wonka-like tea machine, with tubes twisting and turning around a giant tree that is reacting in real-time to the tea-making chemistry. Speaking of chemistry, Boro gives Alta a field guide that shows her how to splice different plants together to create unique fruity flavours for the guests. Not only this, but Atla can add all sorts of odds and ends to the tea pot to make some truly imaginative brews, a few of which have their own special animations once poured. 

Thus, Alta will serve tea to customers, listen to their stories, and begin to unwind the tension that is keeping her grounded at the shop. The dialogue is witty, snappy, and surprisingly deep, with travellers offering Alta different perspectives on her predicament. Nonetheless, it’s Alta’s own internal reflection that stood out to me. If she grabs herself a cup of tea and sits down on any of the benches or furniture throughout the clearing, she will begin to talk about her life. These reflections are wonderfully voice-acted, a stark contrast to the text-based dialogue between characters, and they serve as a device for the player to peel away the layers of Alta’s psyche. 

As I went layers deep into the mind of Atla, I began to see the magic underneath the facade of Wanderstop. There are so many moments like this that pulled me into the scene and asked me to meditate alongside the cast of travellers. While players can get busy doing many things in Wanderstop (beyond what I mentioned already, there is a library of books, trinkets, a parcel system, and photography to organise), they will eventually need to take a break. The game forces quiet moments between conversations where there is nothing to be done at all. So, I waited. Thoughts began to bubble in my mind, and like Alta, I started to think about who I was, what I was trying to accomplish, and what degree of agency I had it all. I found that I could not be a bystander at Wanderstop; my inner world was laid bare like everyone else who sipped its tea. 

All that said, my emotional response to Wanderstop could not have been achieved without a fantastic musical score. There are various seasons in the clearing, each with their own set of distinctive sounds. The music is dynamic to the player’s experience, reacting to each moment in a way that amplifies the mood of the scene at hand. For instance, I found that while running around the clearing to collect tea leaves, a group of string instruments swelled up in the score to deliver a whimsical, joyous rush. Then, when I poked fun at one of the customers for their life decisions, the music instantly went off-key to signify just how poorly my joke landed with them. I have not played a game where the music follows the action on screen so perfectly: the right tone, and the right tempo, at just the right time.