I played the first ten minutes of Florence with my mom, and that's saying something. She's never had any interest whatsoever in games, unless you count her threatening to cry if I played any more Call of Duty: Black Ops when I was a kid interest.
But, one cold and cozy Hanukkah evening in December 2023, she looked over my shoulder and watched Florence. She saw some of herself in the titular character's story, smiled, said the art looked like a graphic novel. I never thought I'd get to play a video game with my mom and - while this moment was short - it was very meaningful to me. Florence helped make that moment. That's the kind of game that Florence is.
A company called Annapurna Interactive published this game, which is a little bit funny because its interactivity is extremely limited. Florence is a visual graphic novel whose stellar art and even better soundtrack carry the player through the story of Florence Yeoh, a woman in her mid-twenties who struggles with much of what a lot of young folks that age struggle with. I don't want to say too much more because Florence's gameplay is entirely based around its story and spoilers are heartbreaking, but I connected deeply with Florence being stuck in a monotonous routine of working at a job she feels very little connection to, eating, sleeping, and then doing it all over again, all with the pressures of social media in her hand, head, and pocket.
In the limited snapshots that we get of Florence's life throughout this forty-five minute experience, we see her find love, deal with grief and emptiness, cope with the pressure of strained relationships, and eventually find success by getting back in touch with herself.
Florence* is concise, cliche at times, but overall a very cozy and meaningful story that the vast majority of players will be able to see a lot of themselves in.
I've already mentioned just how wonderful the art and music are. In terms of gameplay, most of the interactive elements of the story feel great. Even just helping Florence brush her teeth is pretty soothing. The most clever interactive element are the jigsaw puzzles that simulate dialogue in the game. When Florence is feeling awkward, the puzzles have more pieces. When she finds her flow, they're two pieces that move together with the player having to do next to nothing to make them whole again. When she's calm they have round edges, and when she's angry those edges get increasingly more pointy. The puzzle motif returns in illustrations of struggle that deal with heartbreak and alienating memories. Piecing these scenes together mimics reflection in a way that feels both somber and visceral.
The worst part of Florence's interactivity is it forcing you to mash buttons at two seemingly random and certainly incongruous points in its storyline. In what is vaguely reminiscent of a quick-time event from a AAA title circa the 2010s, the game forces you to spam the A button (or the touchscreen if you're playing on mobile) to - at one point - physically push a character toward their goal and - at another - to get Florence up out of bed after a particularly sad moment in her life. This second instance was the lowest point I experienced while playing the game. What Florence needed at that time was a gentle awakening. Not some angsty white guy on the other side of the screen yelling at her to rise and shine. It completely pulled me out of the fiction in a way that felt unnecessary.
The most important thing that Florence has to say regards getting in touch with oneself to bring color back into the world. For Florence, this metaphor becomes very literal, as - for her - this looks like getting back in touch with the artistic side that brought her joy as a child.
Throughout the story, Florence struggles with herself. She fondly remembers making art but doesn't have enough confidence to identify as an artist. She's gifted a new set of paints which she obviously feels inspired by, but they are eventually buried on her desk under paperwork and other flotsam of adult life. These simple symbols resonated with me in a way that made Florence feel special. Because we all have something we see ourselves in that has gotten buried, and the often painstaking and sensitive process of excavation is the only thing that can bring us - and Florence - back into the light.
So call your mom and tell her you love her. Better yet, sit down next to her on the couch. Go get out your box of paints and learn from Florence. You'll be glad you did. 7/10.
Where it shines:
- Genuinely made me smile
- Evokes a relatable time of life
- Touches emotional themes without wallowing in them
Where it fades:
- A tad formulaic
- Button mashing during meaningful scenes