It’s always magical when a book, game or movie lands in your life at the exact moment when it speaks to you most. To play Not at home anymore, playing a new game about two friends before the end of their time together in a London apartment, was one of those rare experiences for me. The way in which the non-binary protagonists Bo and Ao try to process all of the complex feelings that come with saying goodbye to one phase of their life and facing the unknown in another is remarkably honest and profound. As I was preparing for my own seismic shift, I was right with them.
Just here at Kotaku, I’ll be moving to New York City soon, a place I’ve long adored. I am excited to see what the future will bring. But it also means leaving the Bay Area after living here for over 15 years and saying goodbye to so many familiar places that I have come to love. When I was watching a movie at one of my favorite cinemas last weekend, my awareness that it would probably be my last visit before I move away gave the whole experience a bittersweet quality. As it happened, I was very much aware that it would soon be over. After that, I met up with friends for a few drinks. They are the kind of rare friends who really understand me, who make me feel like I am seen and understood in a world that often doesn’t. It was a wonderful get-together, made even more lively by the unshakable thought: It will never be like that again.
Not at home anymore captures the intense connections we sometimes make with places, and how endings can make everything feel more immediate and meaningful. Playing as both Ao and Bo, you will find details in every room of the apartment that tell of their time there, joys, achievements, constant little frustrations such as the feeling that it is always you who takes out the trash in the end. Your apartment is viewed isometrically, each room is presented like its own hand-made diorama. As you rotate each area to reveal new objects to interact with and new areas to explore, the accompanying sound is like a block of wood rotating and then locking into place. It’s a satisfying sound design that makes the spaces you interact with physical and tangible, which also makes you feel more connected to them.
But home is not just a place. If you are lucky, other people will be at home, and for Ao and Bo the hardest part about their upcoming move is that it will mean the end of their time together. As non-binary people, Ao and Bo feel a particular fear of the future because they have to face a world in which they are often painfully misunderstood. Ao in particular talks a lot about the fear of always being seen as someone and something they are not, and at some point complains that her real love of cooking in Japan (where they have to return to because of visa problems) is often evidence that she is would make a good housewife. “I just enjoy it,” they say, “why does it have to be gender?” We’ve started seeing more positive depictions of trans and non-binary people in games in recent years, and that’s cool, but those depictions are reflective often does not reflect our actual, lived experiences. I have seldom experienced the pain of being constantly pigeonholed by people in whom you don’t feel you belong and are not seen for who and what you express as truthfully as here.
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Not at home anymore was developed by Humble Grove, a two-person collaboration who drew from their own experiences, but experiencing something for themselves and being able to create art that captures the experience in a way that moves others are two different Things. Not at home anymore is successful because it is so specific, honest and intrepid what it has to do with us emotionally and psychologically at a crossroads. At the heart of the game is a long conversation that Bo and Ao have in bed one night as they really expose all of their fears and uncertainties about the future. During this conversation you can feel how much the two mean to each other. When the world doesn’t see you, it is especially difficult to say goodbye to the person or people who are doing it.
And yet painful like some aspects of Not at home anymore there is also a poignant consolation. Ao and Bo may say goodbye to their apartment and living together, but they will still be in each other’s lives. Maybe I’ll be leaving the Bay Area soon, saying goodbye to my favorite coffee stands and parks and cinemas, and I won’t be able to meet these dear friends of mine for a drink in my favorite bars anytime soon. But it is okay. There is something else Not at home anymore understands these rare, special connections in our lives. These people who really know and see us? We carry their love with us when we go.
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