continued yawhging
As of this writing, I have played The Yawhg exactly four times. Why so few for a game I’ve so enthusiastically advocated?
The Yawhg is a game that tells a story. Your story. From blissful ignorance of the Yawhg’s coming, through the ever-increasing sense of dread, then onward to times beyond, it inscribes an arc dictated by your actions and echoing out past the confines of the explicit exposition. With this resonance hanging heavily in the air, it just wouldn’t feel right to swish it all aside and have another run. To do so would be to lessen the gravity of each iteration and with it, the impact it leaves on its players.
Emphasis on the plural “players”: I am adamant that it must be played with others. To take the game’s ups and downs alone is to lose out completely on the shared experience that they promote: mutual celebration when a player finds their fortune, collective horror when things take a dark turn, and an overall sense of collective fate and responsibility. To play on one’s own reduces the experience; it makes it more of a challenge to be overcome and less of a story to be shared.
And oh! How incredibly different and wonderful are the ways in which these sharings unfold. In each of my four games, I’ve played with an entirely different group of people. And each, beyond the differences in the internal narratives of the game, was an overwhelmingly distinct experience:
- Well after nightfall, lit only by candles; intimate, serious, and personal. Every passage read aloud. Resonant.
- Analytical and explorative; both of us sought primarily to understand the game’s systems. Much brisker; led to a story seen more from a distance than within.
- Extremely social; every decision was put to the group: “what would my character do?”, with much discussion and speculation arising. The clangour of the room hit a fever pitch whenever things when badly.
- Invested and enthusiastic. A game-ending bug broke both of our hearts, but we resolved to try again and paid meticulous attention to each event as it unfolded.
I’m grateful that The Yawhg is as accessible as it is; fully half of the people I’ve played with had very little prior experience with digital games, yet took to it eagerly and came away having thoroughly enjoyed themselves. It’s one thing for a game to appeal to those who already identify as “gamers” of one sort or another; it’s another entirely to entice those on the periphery, those who appreciate narratives and imagination but might resist sitting down at a computer to play a game. The Yawhg, in achieving this, has highlighted the potential of games to bring people together; to connect them rather than pit them against one another or isolate them with categories of achievement. And how brilliantly it works across each of these completely different situations! There is a language to games that, when well spun, can speak to each of us regardless of our histories.
I’m curious to more deeply explore the mechanics of The Yawhg, to crack open the event files and see all the paths at once, but for now I think I’ll hold off. There are too many possibilities still unexplored, too many stories yet to share, yet to build, with those around me. I want to ride this strange and sickly wind a little longer.
bervquest 