In Other Waters it's about exploring the ocean by using the AI ​​interface

I know a lot about the Gliese 677Cc, the planetary layout In some Water. In a strange sea it is a wonderful, wonderful natural wonder, with creatures that are scattered in its depths.

I noticed a strange act of flowers and seals. I watched the "translucent crest" of a transparent creature. I have been through tunnels, places that perhaps few have ever visited before.

But I've never seen one.

I have collected so much information, but everything I know about this world is shared. That's because almost everything In some Water is spent looking at the map, looking at the user's contact lens for the smart system.

I can help, but I can't be there

The game begins as I learn that the controversial doctor, Dr. Ellery Vas, has been banished to the mysterious sea of ​​Gliese 677Cc after receiving a bizarre phone call from his colleague, Minae Nomura. Vas has a sophisticated diving suit, driven by AI to keep him alive as he scans the ocean in search of Nomura.

The user controls I control, like AI, are designed for this mining suit – and I have to direct him to the ocean, deep into outer space to find Nomura's research. I'm not there to explore or discover any of these different worlds. I exist as a tool to help Vas survive in the ocean.

The gameplay is contained within the use of this AI, which contains a map surrounded by buttons, and I will click buttons and dragons to move the ocean while keeping Vas alive. She gives me directions, explaining where she wants to go and what she wants to see. I collect ammunition and samples which, as he wished, he analyzed.

This is where I read the most about Gliese 677Cc, with Vas & # 39; Almost every game, save for a few short programs, is visible through this lens: a map and some buttons. The actions of the game are not the same as adventure-point-and-click. It's repetitive, and in the end, it takes a rhythm.

It has never felt more functional than most of the time. I'm just there to keep things moving so that Vas can do his job. But the game takes place in narrative, which lies at the frontier of experience. I'll understand what's going on, but I've never been able to figure it out myself. I am limited to the sensory functions created for me, and I have no other way of seeing the world.

Vas often tells me to look for something on a map, and I will click on it and scan. He made me rotate the lever and direct my way – and, hence, his burial suit – to the next interesting place Every time I make this recurring statement, Vas tells me something new about the world. Sometimes, I collect a sample to use later.

I want to see the creatures I found with Vas. I want to see what these stalks and fruits look like when they crawl through the current of the sea. Although the colors of the game – puppets and shades of various shades – are compelling, I want to see the ambers and seaweeds. There is a length of gameplay where I just confused the controls and navigation on the map, and I found myself wanting to something breaking the feeling of a map shape. There are visible changes, but they remain small.

Vas makes it clear that he needs me – AI – to travel through space, but it's clear to me that I really need him. Without him, the world map would mean nothing but the context he provided; it's just dots and lines, nothing else. The sea and its beautiful creatures would have no meaning. The game will simply click on the buttons and look for object representations.

In some Water& # 39; Fencing is interesting that way. It creates a new way of looking at something – through a myriad of lines and dots – and creates a strange, wild world that comes with reports of your personal guilt. The system itself is designed for this, and will never complain.

But I'm not an AI programmer, and I want to share all the details with someone who feels I can rely on him to use and explore this strange world. Aside from his perspective, the map and its contents mean little to me. Through his narration, seen through his human eyes and explained to me through the text of his comments, I get a sense of purpose. I know who I am and why I do this. I rely on her by definition and she relies on me for the most effective rotation issue. It's the kind of closeness that makes you feel close to something, even if it's life.

I'm learning a new idea, after all – that of AI. Reflecting on the experience in these terms helps me become more open to the idea of ​​map creation and user experience, where my only interaction with the world is the usefulness of the world in the words of Vas & # 39 ;.

In some Water it's very focused on the narrative, it's revealed in explorations, notes, and sketches, and that's all I have to go on to connect with what we're doing, and why it's important. I struggled a lot in this touch early in the game, when I was learning systems and rules. I accepted this idea as the story progressed. In fact, the limited style has helped to create a more immersive, one-dimensional world that is understandable. That's the benefit of the game, in fact, the rest of the map. There is so much I could learn about the game world, but I felt open. This version of the world already gave me more details than Vas, though I needed him to tell me what it was like to be there.

It's amazing how that can turn a lot of lines and dots into a rich, living world.

[Disclosure: The author has written once about Heterotopias, the digital zine and website created In some Water engineer Gareth Damian Martin.]

In some Water out now for Windows PC and Nintendo Switch. The game was updated using the PC code provided by the publisher.

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