The Most Devastating Video Game You’ve Never Played

Without spoiling anything at this stage, you spend the opening scenes spectating the early part of Benny's life. We see him on an idyllic afternoon at the beach with his mother, in his high chair as his father complains about his job, and playing with a camera while meeting the young next door neighbour, Chloe.

These vignettes are well acted and written, and offer a detailed picture of this family's highs and lows. The "gameplay" then, is fighting against your own body in order to see as much of these scenes from Benjamin's life as possible; to see every interaction in full, to discover every story clue and, of course, to not grow up too fast.

However, you're not just a spectator of Ben's past. Your experience is personalised by making decisions for him (accomplished by moving the cursor and blinking on specific prompts) in just about every vignette. You decide whether to finish homework or pick up the phone and make time for Chloe, or which toys to draw in your notepad. These small decisions have small consequences too, resulting in differences in how your parents, friends or teachers treat you. In this way, Benjamin's journey becomes your journey. You're invested in his life because you're partly the author of it.

It's because these scenes are so charming and engaging that it feels like a punishment when you can't see the full extent of them. Nine times out of ten, each vignette will cut away just before you want, sending you to some point in the future. There's a weird push and pull to the gameplay here. Having your face involuntarily twitch against your will and seeing a beautiful scene slip out of your grasp can genuinely be a bit heartbreaking.

So as a heads up I wouldn't recommend playing this while anyone is nearby chopping onions. No joke that's what happened to me and it's the equivalent of playing Before Your Eyes on hard mode.

Trying to prolong each scene only makes your lack of control more pronounced as well, like fighting in quicksand. Trying to drink in one sequence almost inevitably messes up the next. Forcing your eyes open to bask in a poignant scene of two characters bonding on a beach will leave them watering and itchy in the next and, as a result of that, the following sequence is likely to end prematurely. With this tactic you're essentially cashing in tomorrow to spend more time in today - like having five extra pints on a Friday knowing your Saturday is going to be a cheesy-chip tasting write off.

[Continued on page 3.]