Her Dreams of Fire is the latest “art game” to appear on RMN. I put "art game" in quotes because I consider the term to be a misnomer, but for the reasons contrary to a fellow reviewer Red_Nova. To me, pretty much any game that has a clear central theme and works to express it is art, just like any somewhat competent film or novel or painting is art; it’s just that majority of art in any medium is ultimately forgettable and/or heavily deficient in some way. Thus, the real question is not whether a given game is art, but whether it’s accomplished and memorable art, and to me, that question is two-fold: 1) how well do the game’s elements work together to tell its story/convey its theme and 2) whether the story in question is well-developed, meaningful, provides unexpected insight, etc.

Step 1 is also why my reviews are split into Aesthetics, Storyline and Gameplay sections, and why these sections are not scored individually, since it’s the combination of the three that ultimately matters. Now, Her Dreams of Fire is an unfortunate example of a game that largely exceeds at the first step, integrating its limited gameplay into storyline in ways occasionally reminiscent of Spec Ops: The Line or Silent Hill 2/3, yet stumbles at the second step, thus diluting the whole experience.

Aesthetics (art, design and sound)

Well, it’s all RTP, so there are not many surprises here. The only thing to score is how it’s used, and generally it’s done very well. The graphical assets fit well enough, the parallax effects and such during one scene are a stand-out, and the OST selection is very fitting. The one problem with RTP assets was during a scene of domestic violence early on, where the believable punching sounds were accompanied by the typical RTP battle animations. I concur with other reviewers on here that they detract from the experience and are best toned down, or removed in favour of sounds only. Only RTP also means no footstep sounds, which is a pity, since a lot of the game is spent walking on wooden floors where appropriate sounds would've done wonders for the atmosphere.

Gameplay

You walk around, interact with things, and make selections through the dialogue trees. These standard mechanics are complemented with two unusual ones, in a scene early on where simply waiting makes a crucial difference, (you’ll recognise it when it happens) and pressing “Esc” during dialogue trees will cancel them and count as a choice in its own right. Like most other players, I had no idea about that particular mechanic, and I agree it should’ve been communicated better and earlier. Other than that, however, they’re sound. It is the storyline they’re integrated in that eventually brings them, and the whole experience down.

Storyline

I make a point of avoiding any and all spoilers in my reviews. Here, however, the game is so brief (much briefer than 15-20 minute long In-Between I also reviewed) that analysing storyline without spoilers is impossible. So, if you’re still reading this thinking about whether to play the game, please put my review on hold and play it through at least once. It will be worth it, whether or on its own terms or to show how this kind of game shouldn’t be written.








Now that you’re here, you’ve hopefully played the game at least once and I can analyse it scene-by-scene with no reservations. So, Her Dreams of Fire instantly drops you inside a burnt house as the initially nameless protagonist and lets you explore it. There’s no context, but even one of the environmental descriptions will tell you enough to know she’s heavily depressed and can only think of even everyday objects in terms of their transience in the face of inevitable death. It’s a good scene and a great use of environmental description. A normal person wouldn’t be so literary, sure, but it also shows how abnormal and perilous Era’s (her name, and how I’ll refer to her for the rest of the review) situation is. When such environmental description reappears, it again boasts the most memorable writing of the game. The scene ends with the choice of four “….” (and a cancel) that doesn’t mean anything. It’s the only such meaningless choice in the game, but you wouldn’t know that initially. It’s forgettable and ineffective at best, even considering the context, and a harbinger of what's to come.

She leaves, and you’re now briefly in the doctor’s office, who prescribes Era medication and promises to refer her to the professional psychiatrist. It only lasts three text boxes, and then you’re one transition away from the next playable scene, where Era is standing on a practically featureless rooftop of an apartment building, the door behind her locked and Era initially pushing away from the sides of the building. You’re supposed to interpret it as her jumping backwards in fear and thus willing to live, but it appears more like she’s just bouncing off the walls. Anyway, the first time round will probably be similar to most players, as I spent the time moving around the building, waiting for something, anything to happen, when the “You should jump.” textboxes started appearing and some time after that, yet another collision with the wall translated into Era jumping off. Afterwards, her transparent ghost blames the player for killing her. You replay the game and hopefully figure out to wait/keep hammering on the door and ignore the “jump” textboxes until the scene finally ends.

Leaving the mechanics aside, here we have three of the game’s main narrative problems in a nutshell. Liberty maintains that the game is not about suicide, and is rather offended at the suggestions that it is the case. She also maintains on the “Explanation” page here that the game is not about you, the player, but about Era and her story. However, this is conclusively undercut with the completely unnecessary separation of Era’s character into, well, herself, The Voice that is responsible for object descriptions above + “You should jump.” textboxes, and the player: we’re supposed to interpret the dialogue choices made, Era walking, etc. as not the decisions she makes based on her life experience, but as the player, as a separate entity, pulling on her strings; an idea that was successful in OFF and Oneshot but doesn’t work here for reasons elaborated on below. Similarly, The Voice is, for all intents and purposes a part of her, and so if a part of person’s personality actively urges her to die, claiming that she isn’t, on the whole, suicidal is silly.

Moreover, this unneeded separation seems to have obscured a fundamental design truth from the creator: that if you take the time to explore the house, Era jumping off is the logical progression of the narrative. What has more weight: the supposed hints that she wants to live (her seeking a doctor and those moves back from the ledge) or examine quotes like “The flame long died but we can imagine it still lives, just as we imagine ourselves living far after we are done.” or "People wonder if the voices they'll hear when they die will be those of the people they loved or of demons. Neither is true. Neither is false. Neither is known to be fact or a fiction. All is a truth. Until it is proven otherwise." or "Rubble and bones and the things that people held on to during their life. Empty, meaningless items that are given life and price through the person who uses them in place of memories." + 6 more quotes like that? It’s clearly the latter, and because we don’t see anything else of Era’s life, her accusations at the end that “I had a life. I had a love. I am more than the sum of my past! You killed me!” etc. ring hollow, because to the player, she IS the sum of her past.

What the game really needed to resolve the contradiction was a scene or two of Era getting back home from the doctor’s appointment, where we could’ve had a chance to walk around her home and examine the items in a similar manner, so that we could’ve seen her present life, her will to live, perhaps a photo or a letter from that love of hers. That way, there would’ve been the required contrast before the rooftop dream, so that we could’ve reasonably believed that she wants to live and overcome the suicidal part of her personality. And again, treating the player as a separate entity is a mistake here. It worked in OFF to make a point about the player trusting motives of typical JRPG protagonists by default, and also has relevance to its come theory interpretations. In Oneshot, the separation and fourth-wall-breaking served to establish the fragility of both the main character and the world they’re in, building up tension to the final choice between the two. Here, it only serves for the characters to accuse you directly in the bad endings, and it falls flat. An in-depth, in-universe eulogy for the life lost before her time from the doctor/psychiatrist would’ve been far more effective and poignant.

Then, there also clear characterisation issues. One reason fourth-wall-breaking worked well in Oneshot is because the game went to great lengths to show Niko’s personality through her conversations with both other characters and the player and of course those dreams. Era feels more of a conduit for Dreams of Fire’s messages about depression/guilt/etc.: her only personality is expressed through the object descriptions and she only ever speaks one line outside of the dialogue boxes. The aforementioned rooftop scene would’ve been much clearer if she actually shouted “No!” when jumping aside, for instance. Yet, she remains the most developed character, as the rest are made out of cardboard. Actually, let me restate it: there has obviously been much thought put into their characters, but it’s all on the Explanation page, with practically none of it present in the game, and thus it does not count. It’s again clear that the chosen length is ultimately insufficient to accommodate the storyline in question, but that’s not the only problem. Another is the fondness for the nigh-indistinguishable dialogue options.

We’re asked to make subtle judgements about the mother/father’s character between My father/Daddy/Oh him or S/he loves me/hate me ignores me when there’s little information available about them outside of confused messages from burnt-up bodies, and further information is only available afterwards. Hence, I replied with ignore twice, not aware of the supposed difference between Era’s attitude towards them. And of course, Era gets hit regardless of what she says, and while Liberty might see it as realistically avoiding instant gratification, it’s also a lost opportunity, as differing replies would’ve allowed for much greater insight into their characters and provided greater reason for replaying. Same applies to the 4 “….” Replies during the False Dream sequence, with the only other option a Cancel. To me, they say nothing one “….” wouldn’t have, but more interesting and subtle replies were omitted; I suspect because they would’ve clashed with the Truth/Lie system.

This, to me, is the final storytelling shortcoming. For a game that spends its running time dealing with quite complex subject matter (and which could’ve been a lot more complex if more “Explanation” stuff showed up in the actual game.) the system is disappointingly simplistic. It’s either about Era accepting everything that happened and living happily or failing to do so and suffering later on in life, with the only shades of grey being to do with the degree of Era’s acceptance. The system thus pigeon-holes the less clear-cut interpretations of event into a single straightjacket, and the game suffers for it. On my second time around, for instance, I’ve had ignored all the object descriptions in the first room, thinking that making Era wallow in suicidal thoughts would be self-indulgent of me as a player and that ignoring them would alter the rooftop dream, or at least make it briefer. I still consider it valid, since the cognitive therapies for depression and other mental ailments frequently teach the patients to recognise and avoid negative thinking, which is what all the environmental quotes surely are. You might have your own interpretations like that when playing, where an action can both benefit and do harm, and the system could've been adjusted to handle it: the problem is that the story wasn't written with that in mind.

Lastly, all endings only conclude in terms of Era’s recovery or lack of one and don't touch on much else, which unwittingly brought to mind American Sniper, a film famously dominated by its protagonist’s guilt for (not) shooting enough Iraqis and not sparing a thought for his victims. Given the heavy implication that Rena (Era’s aunt and Thom’s lover) was the one good person in that family, the happiest ending came off more than a little callous, and left me wondering how much happiness a murderer ultimately deserves.

Conclusion

So, that is it. Her Dreams of Fire is a game that can hopefully inspire the players on here to experiment more with the non-traditional gameplay and non-linearity. If someone creates the RMN’s Silent Hill 2 after playing it (Backstage is close, but lacks the non-traditional elements of SH2 and Dreams of Fire, and is too much of a homage to count, regardless.) then it will be worth it. In its current state, however, Her Dreams of Fire is an unfinished monument to what could have been. I could reasonably see it as RMN’s Shutter Island. Instead, its greatest contribution to our culture is showing that “Cancel Branch” can be an effective storytelling tool.