It’s borderline postapocalyptic, but in a way that feels oddly soft and comforting.
SEASON A LETTER TO THE FUTURE SWITCH FREE
I’m not there to judge, but to listen and understand.Ī large bulk of the six-hour game takes place in a small open-ended area where players are free to bike around and discover what happened in previous seasons through subtle environmental storytelling. No matter what discovery I make on my journey, I’m easily able to accept it as the natural order of the world. The next, I’m praying at the altar of a God that will wipe away a bit of my memory. One moment ,I’m serenely strolling through a field of cows, basking in the sun’s golden glow. Developer Scavengers Studio excels at crafting its own intriguing reality that blends naturalism with sincere spirituality. While it looks like a grounded slice-of-life tale initially, its tone more veers into quiet magical realism. I’m not there to judge, but to listen and understand. One previous season, for instance, brought a war, the remnants of which still linger through its landscapes. The word marks a major sea change in the world, almost operating like a prophecy.
That may sound like a low-stakes setup, but seasons in this universe don’t just signal a few months of cold weather. Season: A Letter to the Future joins a small list of games that I’d describe as “road trip stories.” It follows a young woman who’s tasked with leaving her isolated hillside village to alert the world of an impending season change. Even when its written story wanders, its vibrant world and detailed sound design always speaks for itself. Season: A Letter to the Future is a meditative indie adventure that rewards players who are willing to slow down and take it all in.
If you stopped playing the game there, you could still understand everything it communicates to you throughout its six-hour adventure. I can hear the gentle sound of my bike tires spinning, imagine the splashes of cool colors, and feel the smooth motion of my bike careening through the countryside. Rather, the broad strokes of it remain etched in my mind like a sketchbook doodle. It’s not that I can recall every moment of the scene beat for beat.
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