Fishbowl Review (PC)

Fishbowl descends into a familiar purgatory state—a middle ground between harmless adolescence and adulthood, where innocent habits are replaced with isolated memories, monotonous yet crucial grafting, and routines that usher you deeper and deeper into a world that you often fail to recognize. Alone, and with the weight of a new era on your shoulders, it draws you in, to a place where loss, grief, and the separation of kin merge into a cascading tidal wave of emotions and lonesome thoughts. It wants you to unravel the silver lining—the translucent skies of adulthood—but it also wants you to find your own path. It knows of the struggles—the desperation, the uncertainty, and the fact that we, as mere mortals, haven’t the slightest clue how to emerge from our self-contained cocoons—but it also understands that everything is obtainable through recognition and psychological awareness.

In most cases, you would have a helping hand—a friend, a colleague, or a distant relative, for example—to rekindle your spirits and help you discover a new lease on life. But in Fishbowl, the spiritual guidance stems from a talking fish who has the power to alter your mood, your patterns, and your hopes for finding a future worth living. Although with the monumental task of learning to survive in a big city and without the comfort of a late grandparent, Fishbowl finds a way to keep you company while you juggle a career, a contained lifestyle, and the what ifs of adulthood. It doesn’t want you to fail, and it doesn’t fool you into believing that bad choices will culminate in drastic consequences. Rather, it coneys a simple message, and one that, frankly, everyone should resonate with. Adulthood isn’t a picnic; it’s a learning process that takes a lot of effort to finesse.

Fishbowl follows Alo, a soon-to-be adult who finds herself in an unrecognizable world with a dream job as a remote video editor and, rather strangely, a fish who has the power to convey words of encouragement and frequently offer glimpses into past memories. In this pixel-crated world, it falls to you to navigate life in the aftermath of a grandparent’s death, one day at a time, all whilst learning how to juggle responsibilities and isolation, grief and surreal premonitions. It isn’t a game that forces you to make correct choices; instead, it allows you the freedom to rediscover yourself, and to pick up the pieces before determining what your true purpose in life is come curtain call. There are no bad endings — just alternate pathways that orbit the decisions that you yourself make over the long and oftentimes grueling days.

For the most part, the game sees you traversing areas in your home—an act that either involves engaging in basic editorial mini-games, collecting heirlooms that remind you of your childhood, or speaking with other colleagues and, above all, the fish who holds a higher power than most standard household pets. It isn’t a taxing experience by any stretch, nor is it one that forces you to think outside of the box, for that matter. Instead, it tells it how it is, with an open book, a world where people blur the lines between childhood and adulthood, and a culture that makes a viable effort to shed light on the toughest challenges that befall those most vulnerable to grief.

Gameplay-wise, there isn’t a lot here that requires you to crack knuckles or scratch your chin. The mini-game, for example, mostly consists of matching colors in a rhythm-like format to assemble timelines for a video. Aside from that, you have a great variety of script, items, and other characters to converse with. Lest we forget, though, that Fishbowl isn’t so much a game as it is an interactive experience that highlights the passing of time—the highs and lows of adulthood and the concerns over life and the steps one ought to take in order to find comfort and stability. Don’t get me wrong, it still has gamification embedded within its core, but if Fishbowl is anything at all, it’s a love letter to familiarity, and to a time period that will no doubt resonate with most, if not all people who’ve either suffered from the loss of a loved one or the drastic changes of a new culture.

Above all else, Fishbowl is a touching game that leans into some surprisingly intricate details and familiar habits. It’s fairly snail-like progression might not be for everyone, but with multiple endings to find and a solid variety of choices to make, it is a game that can prod your imagination and keep you emotionally invested for the long term. It’s isn’t a lofty gameplay-oriented experience, though it does contain more than enough bite-sized details, events, and mini-games to keep you ticking over, as well as a progressive style to make you feel more entwined with the narrative and its turbulent themes. And that’s a huge plus in my books, truly.

Verdict

Fishbowl opens a window to a world where wayward adults congregate on recognizable curveballs and turbulent times, not with the intent to contort the lull of life, but to illuminate the silver linings and the little things that make them worth chasing. Gracefully, and with a slight hint of satire, it leans into a familiar territory that a lot of us know like the back of our own hand. It might not do a splendid job of gamifying the narrative, but it does convey a thoughtful message that feels both personal and oftentimes emotional.

Combined with a wholesome pixel-crafted aesthetic and a grounded narrative that’s as equally compelling as it is relatable, Fishbowl emerges as a unique little indie affair that feels more than deserving of a space beneath the limelight. And it’s for that reason alone that you should take the opportunity to experience it for yourself the next time you’re in the mood for a choice-driven adventure that blends the best of multiple worlds. It’s cute, intimate, and above all, a surprisingly well-rounded game that has a lot to offer.