Pine: A Story of Loss Review (Android, iOS, Switch & PC)

Having lost several members of my own family circle, I understand how difficult it can be to rebuild a sense of normality and a natural connection with the world. I also understand how difficult it can be for the likes of grieving kin to break free from the shackles of a vicious cycle. In the strangest of ways, adhering to the same old routine can be a comforting thing; it helps us to deal with the general trauma of losing a loved one, and it often helps keep our minds occupied whilst it simultaneously tries to stitch itself back together, piece by piece. I get that. And, I suppose, that’s sort of what initially pulled me into Pine: A Story of Loss’ world: I could relate to its protagonist, and I could put myself in their shoes, knowing the milestones of the process and its skewered trials and tribulations.

Pine: A Story of Loss isn’t so much a game as it is a short interactive storybook with a few basic puzzles. It’s a relatively short number (ninety minutes ought to be enough time to beat it) that primarily involves the character—an isolated woodworker whose life largely revolves around the loss of their dearly beloved and the purgatory-like aftermath of such a tragic event. It’s a rather simple concept that doesn’t require a whole lot of forward-thinking, nor is it a piece of art that forces you to analyze the ins and outs of its world. It is, if anything at all, a flip book animation that has the potential of manifesting a few well-earned tears — and that’s about it. The question is, does it work? Let’s talk about it…

If It Feels Right, Do It

They say that insanity comes from carrying out the same basic task and then expecting each attempt to miraculously develop a new conclusion. The same can’t be said in an instance where loss is a primary factor, mind you; in fact, it’s something of a helping hand, to do the same activities that keep you from spiraling into a psychological state of unconventional thinking. Is it healthy to do the same thing? No. But, if it helps you to feel just a smidgen closer to a person you might’ve lost, then surely, there’s some good to it. Take Pine: A Story of Loss, for example. The game (if you can call it that; the jury’s still out on that one) essentially sees you doing the same thing — and that’s chopping wood. On paper, this is a rather dull exercise, but there is a deeper meaning to such a monotonous operation.

Pine takes you through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Well, I say that, when in fact, these stages are more or less condensed into vaguely similar short interactive puzzles and the occasional bout of button prompts, to boot. The woodworker—a lone average Joe-like soul who has since lost the love of his life—chooses to pass the time by channeling the breadth of his smitten energy into creating a keepsake of great sentimental value, of sorts, that resembles his wife’s former self. As a result of this decision, players essentially have the opportunity to complete small manual tasks in exchange for brief but heartwarming memories of the couple’s time together before their world collapsed.

Carving Out Keepsakes

The gameplay aspects nested within Pine: A Story of Loss are pretty self-explanatory; you’re either carving out a sculpture of your late wife, or you’re watching a touching memento unfold over a series of short but hearty hand-drawn cutscenes. The sculpting process, which consumes the lion’s share of the experience, consists of one or two simple keystrokes—button prompts that allow you to twist and mold the material into beautiful and thematic wood carvings that, upon completion, unpack a particular memory stub for you to watch and reflect on. Aside from that, there isn’t a great deal of work for you to do, which, in all honesty, makes it more of a natural-born animation than a full-fledged video game.

There is one saving grace to all of the above, and that’s the artistic value of the work. Granted, it isn’t quite on the same wavelength as a modernized Disney-Pixar flick, but for an independent game that mostly favors emotional appeal and relatable storytelling over rigorous gameplay, it certainly carries an edge in its own way. In my opinion, though, such work probably would’ve been far better suited for a short film or sketchbook piece than a half-baked video game with scarcely any real interactive moments outside of the occasional prompt. Nevertheless, Pine has a certain charm to it, and if its sole purpose truly was to deliver a heartbreaking tale of grief and loss, then hey — mission accomplished.

The One-and-Done Treatment

Pine: A Story of Loss isn’t a game that’ll leave you feeling the need to return to its wooden boroughs in future years. No, it’s far more of a one-and-done sort of ordeal, and it’s something that you’ll want to work through in a single session in order to take full advantage of the emotional ties that come with it. Given the fact that the story itself barely scratches the ninety-minute marker, this isn’t exactly a tall order, either. It’s just a shame, in ways, that it couldn’t have figured out a way to produce more interesting things for its gameplay.

Verdict

Whilst I can see the moral implications and the emotional significance of the heartbreaking period piece, I can’t quite bring myself to speak as highly about its ties to the gameplay, for it lacks a lot of basic ingredients to be considered as anything more than a purely visual experience with the odd interactive element. Does this make it bad? Not at all, but it is worth pointing out that, in spite of its frequent attempts to break the fourth wall and give you something to do, there just isn’t a huge amount of meat on the bones, so to speak. Perhaps, then, it isn’t so much of a game as it is a visually appealing piece of art with one or two familiar yet blatantly textbook trappings. If that’s the sort of thing that does it for you, then sure, you might just enjoy the message that it houses.

I will say this: Pine does have some genuinely great artwork, and, sure enough, it does manage to pull on one or two heartstrings as it gradually builds upon its yarn and edges towards its crescendo. It’s just a shame, really, that there isn’t enough variety in the gameplay department to keep you emotionally invested for the duration of the story and, above all, the closing chapters of the book. And it’s because of that, rather regrettably, that by the time you reach the final hurdle—a point that inconveniently requires you to jump through the same hoops several times over to get to—there just isn’t a whole lot of momentum left in the tank come curtain call.

At its current asking price, I can’t bring myself to say that it’s worth the trouble or, in a worst-case scenario, being out of pocket for. Give it time, though.