Stonefly, a Tiny World Drenched in Style and Story
There is a common misconception that using the word whimsical to describe something means that it cannot, at the very same time, be a serious and in-depth experience. Or, that in order to be whimsical, it must be droll. Odd. But this isn’t always the case. In fact, a droll experience is often a product of laziness. Oddities or capriciousness are there in order to distract or hold attention away from an otherwise shallow or boring product.
This is increasingly common in the modern comedy genre. Wittiness has been co-opted by screenwriters as the protein of their stories, and it makes for an unsatisfying piece of entertainment.
To me, and many others like me, a thing has to be far more than just odd, to be intriguing. It has to be more than funny to be charming. And it has to be more than whimsical to keep our attention.
When it comes to film, they only have to vie for our attention for a few hours at maximum. Video Games, on the other hand, are often seeking hours worth of commitment stretching into the double-digits at least.
Sitting down to write this impression script, I kept thinking about one single thing; Honey I Shrunk The Kids. Why? Perhaps because it is still the most sparkling example of whimsy that continues to stick with me through decades of film watching. It was wondrously odd, and exceptionally intricate as far as kid’s movies go. It went above and beyond the call of its quirkiness, to provide a lot of fascinating stories about siblings, parents, adults, and family bonding. None of which it had to do. Yet, it remains an immensely whimsical ride, and did something just left of the norm, to stand out amongst all of the now-classic films of the late eighties and early nineties.
From the same team that brought us amazing and fun video games like Creature in the Well, Manifest 99, and Island Time, comes Stonefly -- a game about tiny beings, building bug-like mechs to battle crawlers, collect resources, and explore their world.
And I cannot begin to express how astounding and wonderful this little minuscule universe is.
Stonefly is a bit hard to describe in lamens terms.
It is the birth-child of lo-fi study beats, mesmerizingly beautiful wallpaper, and the stories you tell your kids while you’re tucking them in at night.
Through press and media, the team describes Stonefly as a “chill and tranquil action-adventure game about self-discovery, legacy, and belonging.” and that is very apt, but it doesn’t quite sell just how fascinating the collection and unlocking of new bug-mech parts is, and how ingrained into my preferences this art style is.
Their self-designated chill and tranquil tagline also does a bit of a funny job misleading players. Sure, the exploration and music of the Stonefly universe can feel very much inundated with both of those buzzwords. However, the “combat” -- you don’t actually kill things, you just push bugs off leaves and platforms -- can turn into a frantic and meticulous combo-mashing arena that raises my bpm an incredible amount.
I wasn’t expecting it, and I absolutely fucking love it.
Tacked on to the end of their elevator pitch description is the term “about self-discovery” and OH BOY let me tell you just how large an understatement that is.
Every few years, an indie game comes around that doesn’t rest on its laurels. Luckily for the teams making them, there is a gregarious and eccentric gameplay loop that allows them to garner gargantuan attention, even from gamers outside of the indie gaming space. Then, when they launch, we are treated to a monumental storytelling experience, seemingly out of nowhere.
Not that indie games can’t have fabulous and intricate stories. Rather, the selling features would go unchanged regardless of reason.
We’re diving right into the “better than it needed to be” statement of grand satisfaction, and I, for one, am always enamored and amazed.
Celeste is the most recent example of this. Not relying solely on the well-crafted gameplay, we partake in a journey of depression, anxiety, self-awareness, coping, and overcome hurdles that are very real in our own lives. At least, from where I am sitting.
The story, characters, dialog, and journey through Stonefly is simply described in one word; unforgettable.
If this game had come out and it was just a cool concept matched with amazing art, it would have been a fantastic experience. One I could easily gush about. But the team at Flight School Studios took themselves seriously, bolstered the offerings beyond the start-screen of Stonefly, and made what is probably my favorite indie game in the last five years.
Even now, writing about how this experience has made me feel over the course of the handful of hours I’ve put into it so far, I grow teary-eyed. If the global pandemic, and distance weren’t stopping me, I would request the opportunity to hug each and every person that has their fingerprints all over this game.
And that’s just it, you can FEEL the fingerprints. And it is not just the choice in painted and modern millennials-posing-in-front-of-houseplants pastel-adjacent vibe that the art-style portraits. It’s so much more than that.
Prolonged is the tale of overachieving indie games. Or, in my preferred way of looking at it; an industry and player base that consistently undervalues what indie games as a creative medium can offer. As someone who has worked in independent mediums, supporting indie companies, and found some of his favorite gaming experiences outside of the norm, I see a fabulously deep well of talent and potential.
Thanks to games like Stonefly, I will continue to believe this, and promote indie creators at every turn. A lack of restraints often translates into a vast ocean of possibilities. You can say more, be bolder, and the creators of Stonefly have done just that. Taking a whimsical concept and translating it into one of the most brilliantly captivating video games this side of Breath of the Wild.
My only gripe and I understand how much work it takes to weave something like this, but I would love to have a multiplayer experience of some sort. Being able to team up with some friends, hop in our bug-mechs and go explore or grind out materials for upgrades -- and there are a lot of upgrades to be made -- would have been a compelling reason to invite others to play, or just purchase this game in droves.
It is comical in a way. The more I admire, and am obsessed with a game, the less I like to talk about my experiences with it. I become a slag of vague tropes and act as if I’ve been hired to write a pitch deck.
I think a majority of that comes from wanting others to jump in without as much of my opinion as they possibly can. To delineate how one should feel or experience something this gorgeous and impactful is to simply do a disservice to the creators.
So, to wrap up this impressions podcast, I have to say that I am blown away by the riveting experience provided by Flight School. I am unable to properly express how badly I wish to spend each and every hour that I am awake, inside my bug-mech, even just to explore or hang out inside this universe.
