![]() ![]() I’d laugh at anything remotely like a fart, and while Forgotten Fields has many comical moments and doesn’t require intense focus, it’s a game that takes you away, losing all sense of the space you occupy and getting wrapped up in the story. Momentarily it makes you irritated, but it doesn’t take too long to get back into it. It certainly wasn’t game-breaking, but it was like being teleported away into a movie setpiece as a spectator, then as soon as it’s silent, someone farts. If you’re backtracking to a place, forget about sprinting, as you’ll inevitably bash into something and having to manoeuvre around it each time. When it comes to moving Sid around, it was irritating as he would clip objects when not touching them. I’m not going to get on all fours so that Frostwood Interactive and Dino Digital can stand on my back to get up on the pedestal, though. With assets dropping down into the scenery as Sid imagines them, allowing us to move about each diorama with a fantasy setting, his interactions with friends and recollection of memories help fuel his own narrative. A story about a mage who has lost her powers, we follow them every once in a while. Switching back and forth from his timeless rut, we’ll have a third-person perspective of the novel he’s writing as he thinks it up. There’s just such immense charm in the simplicity of things that watching Sid’s artistic (and moped) plight, I’d feel inspired by his surroundings and envious of his predicament. There aren’t monsters to battle, mountains to climb or GTRs to pimp. ![]() Sid’s life is completely normal, which is one reason why Forgotten Fields is so beautiful On a personal note, I’m lucky not to have that issue with writing about games or other industries, but skimming the surface, pursuing an interest in screenwriting, Forgotten Fields was screaming at me from the page – err… screen. He’ll complete daily routines of speaking with the neighbours, pacing up and down his working space, hanging on to every word he writes without being remotely productive. Go back to your artisan coffee and let me finish my Ribena. Or a typewriter and box load of Tippex, hipster. shed, has just the bare minimum for survival, but when you spend most of your adventures in your head and commit that to the written word, all you need are your thoughts and a computer. His apartment, which could be classed in the UK as a studio flat, a.k.a. You play Sid, an author who lives the life of any writer isolation and borderline poverty. But the storytelling here is often understated, showing, not telling. Pfft! A ship that size hitting an iceberg and sinking? Do me a favour. I’m a sucker for a good story, whether that be something believable or far-fetched like Titanic. ![]()
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