Last week, I sat among friends and stared up at the stars. A meteor shower provided the “fireworks” for the evening, but simply laying on my back and looking upwards was enough. It harkened back to when I was a child and did the same from time to time, when I would simply look at the twinkling sky and marvel at its beauty. Back then, I wanted to hold the sky in my arms; to hold and breathe in its significance.
Obviously, that isn’t going to happen, but it did remind me of the only game that put me back into that kind of frame of mind: Flower. Flower is a love song to the innate, simple beauty of the world that is so easily missed, especially as we continue to progress technologically. We’re all consumed by the variety of different things that vie for our time: Bills that must be paid, relationships that must be tended to, education, careers, you name it.
But when I’m playing Flower, all those concerns melt away for a slight moment. No longer is my mind wandering off to the trivialities of the day that bring me unending pressure. It gives me a chance to stop and revert to a simpler time that we probably all remember when we were younger and didn’t constantly worry about our appearance, our futures, and weren’t so acutely aware of the world as it is. Instead, we’re placed inside rolling hills with blades of grass swaying in the wind, with a bouquet of mult-colored flower petals sweeping through the air.
To maintain its credibility as a “video game”, Flower does have a linear narrative, insofar as you have to complete certain objectives to progress into the next area. It is an unfortunate nod to video game conventions, one that was unavoidable to put in the game. Yet, Flower is at its best when you throw away the game’s bow to video game convention and treat it simply as an open-world game. You’re not interested in picking up the different flower petals that push you quickly into the next area, but you’re gliding along the blades of grass, evoking that sense of freedom you feel when driving along the road, hand outside the door and feeling the wind brush against your hand.
You’re free from your responsibilities and your fears, insulated from both within this virtual world. Perhaps there’s a life lesson to take from navigating Flower without purpose: To be grateful that you’re still flying, even if you’re not progressing.
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