As someone who used to live and die while sipping a latte at midnight, playing Coffee Talk was a pleasant flashback to the days when all I had were college deadlines and a more resilient body. Now, caffeine after sunset sends me into a sweaty vortex of misery, so it’s easy to get sentimental late at night while gaming while sitting comfortably over a beer. The charm and simplicity got me right away, and the second chapter, Coffee Talk Episode 2: Fleur and the Butterfly, is much the same: the player is the mysterious barista (and ostensibly the owner) of Coffee Talk, a small, only-opening In the evening at the cafe, make comforting drinks while listening to customers talk about their problems.
The game picks up a few years after the first installment, with previous regulars including neighborhood police officer Jorji and lifelong best friends Hyde and Gala. It’s set in the same supernatural version of Seattle, filled with otherworldly creatures, from orcs and satyrs to vampires and gnomes, with a “main six” list of recognized races and an excruciatingly slow process of amalgamation of other previously “unknown” peoples . Thankfully, Coffee Talk’s focus on slices of life helps it avoid the worst pitfalls of trite fantasy racial stereotypes, as characters deal with associated personal crises on a much smaller scale than the Hundred Years’ War between orcs and elves. Much more intimate. For example, a socially awkward succubus named Riona dreams of being the soprano in a siren-dominated opera scene, while a jaded Jorji will vent about his home life and relationships with his family.
The subtitle comes from two new teas – hibiscus and blue pea (also known as butterfly pea) flowers – that are necessary to create new drinks such as Zobo from Nigeria or Teh Jahe Rosella from Toge Productions’ Indonesian headquarters. Unlike the first game, which was purely bartending conversation, this time players also receive an item left at the café, which must be handed over to the appropriate person the next time they come in; the player only has one chance to hand it over when serving that person a drink Items, which are easy to forget and, with a few exceptions, have no real impact on the main character arcs. Objects also disappear after a certain number of days.For example, failing to provide Riona with another character’s contact information is a non-negotiable part of the main narrative, so despite the player’s amnesia, she will still have it
Mixing drinks – the most interactive part of the game – is a simple process of combining three ingredients in sequence. There are bases, majors, and minors, but I’ve occasionally found some combinations to be impossible – Lucas once asked for a pumpkin spice latte substitute, but the barista never offered anything far from pumpkin even a gourd-shaped fruit in their arsenal. After a random Google search for one of these drinks, I stumbled upon a possible solution. The latte art technician is still a special hell, and hand-eye coordination wears off – I’ve tried to doodle a heart so many times, it’s worse than when I was a toddler. I blamed this on my Joycon, but my experience with the keyboard and mouse in my first Coffee Talk was almost as bad. If it’s a sharp cue for your baristas to tip them more when they give you latte art, then it works.
It feels odd to complain that a game built around everyday vignettes doesn’t feel as cohesive as its predecessor, especially when understanding that games are arguably one of the most effective mediums for subverting traditional expectations of what a “story” should be like . Perhaps because the first game had a consistent thread, Freya, the green-haired writer whose arc was integral to helping players connect with the game; Fleur and the Butterfly relied more on multiple An ensemble of regulars, which has a very different feel. For the most part, the writing maintains the same tone as the first game—an overall fluid mix of banter, explicit characterization, the idiosyncratic Seattle-speak of Fantasy, and a touch of formality from the barista.
Still, Fleur and the Butterfly has noticeably stiff dialogue, filler words, and chunks of clumsy exposition that, while unavoidable due to the nature of the visual novel format, could use more polish. The saving grace here is my genuine affection for the four main regulars: old couple Lua and Baileys, and old friends Hyde and Gala. More than anything else, it’s this comforting familiarity that defines my Fleur and Butterfly flow, whether it’s Lua’s debut in the game and its huge popularity, or pairing any old regular with (sometimes, quite Frustrating) Newcomers are paired to create a warm sense of belonging. Jorji’s storyline, which follows a vandalism-turned-history story, is patchy at best, and has genuinely puzzling interactions with other cops who randomly preach about empathy and compassion. My best guess is that the writers are trying to humanize law enforcement, and it’s an odd disconnect to explicitly push it toward a game that doesn’t police race and identity against the backdrop of viciously anti-immigration and tech-enabled racism matter.
The strongest draw to Coffee Talk for me is its simplicity, the layers of nostalgia and fantasy it has carefully crafted, not just an old-fashioned coffee shop where the barista doubles as friend and healer for every local, but a traditional entity The North Star of the Coffee Shop Era. – Mortar Third spaces – public, community-oriented spaces that fulfill specific social roles – are an endangered concept. The internet and social media have become replacements for many of these old interactions, with characters in the game using a social media app called Tomodachill to post player-favorite “stories” (with no apparent effect on gameplay). It became such a source of nightly low-stakes fun that I could easily ignore some of the more uneven writing and tedious parts, relax with familiar faces, and go through the motions of helping my small group of clients.
Gaming as a third place isn’t a new comparison—MMOs are perhaps the most obvious example of virtual spaces where people form low-key, low-stakes hangouts around chat. I’m not talking about doing combat-intensive raids or high-level instances, but more like Final Fantasy XIV roleplayers creating cute little cafes with other players (and bathhouses, brothels, etc.). Of course, this is all player-made content, driven by the player base within the parameters of the game. While there are other low-key party visual novels that focus on dialogue and low (or no) conflict of interest, Coffee Talk has no gimmicks, just a solid, well-executed formula: an extremely grim soundtrack, a compelling plot, and the occasional A thought-provoking result, Seriously, if not for the occasional clumsy attempt to give its characters meaningful social and political context, and the need to hear an innate understanding of the inevitable human.
The entire Coffee Talk series, on its most obvious surface level, is a narrative storybook for third place, but with a bit of a behavioral twist – it encourages (rather than meta) giving back to sponsorships in the form of players loading games via Its characters seek out a rare form of connection: the special moment when strangers (or strangers who have gone the wrong way) can stay together long enough to form a spark of friendship. Like the first coffee conversation, Fleur and Butterfly ended without understanding really ending, and my inner night owl was delighted.
iGamesNews
