THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW.
When I was a little girl, maybe about 6 or so, I watched my uncle die from Aids.
Despite blocking out a majority of my childhood in order to function even halfway as an adult, I do have an extremely vivid memory of seeing my uncle lying in a bed in the back room of my grandparents house, sickly and pale, asking for me to come give him a hug. I didn't, and it's been one of the biggest regrets of my life. He understood. He knew it looked scary, he held no anger towards me for it. After all, I was just a child, I didn't know any better. But there's something else about my uncle that you should know. He was the only other queer person in my entire family (at least that we know have known of), and because he died when I was such a young age, he never got to really know me, as another queer person, and that bond that could've been being extinguished so early has also always haunted me as well.
When I was a kid, and even until I was about 16, my stepfather would take me hiking. He used to take the whole family camping yearly, mostly to Yosemite, but wherever he could really. We saw Yellowstone, Redwoods, you name it. By the age of 11, I'd hiked Half Dome in Yosemite. I've spent time deep in the Redwoods. I've seen all the geysers at Yellowstone, and I've rolled down sand dunes in the Death Valley Desert. I like hiking and camping.
A Short Hike caught my eye immediately with it's Animal Crossing-esque visual style, a game that looks ripped right out of a Nintendo console, complete with goofy dialogue and calming musical interludes. Sure, you COULD race right up the mountain once you have enough Golden Feathers, but where's the fun in that? No. You should take your time, catch some fish, participate in some beach games and look for treasure. Take in as much relaxation as you can, because you won't just need your energy for climbing that mountain, you'll also need it to get you through the crushing pit at the top. See, your entire goal, as this teenage bird girl, is to get to the top of the mountain so that you can get cell phone reception. Right from the get go, you are given the vague impression that you don't really want to be at this campsite, but that you didn't really have a choice, and that something back home is wrong. Boy, was that an understatement. Once you gain access to the top of the mountain, you finally get reception and get a call from your mother, who was, apparently, undergoing some sort of surgery (possibly for a numerous time?) and was worried that you would be damaged by being around for it.
A Short Hike is pain disguised as pleasure. Overcoming grief and loss (or potential loss, in this case, since her mom didn't actually die) is very much like climbing up a steep mountain. It takes all your strength, your effort, your drive, to want to actually reach the top and come face to face with the thing that scares you the most. And, to avoid dealing with it, you're going to try and do everything else first. You're going to try and put as much distance between yourself and your painful goal as possible, by following treasure maps or selling fish to a sailor. You're going to try and fill the possible upcoming void with hobbies and activities so that when the void finally hits, you aren't left with a feeling of absolute hopelessness. Instead, you have other things to focus on, to distract yourself with. This is, from my own personal experience, how grief works.
I've seen many reviews state the same thing: that the buildup of the game itself doesn't warrant the emotional crux at the peak, but that's actually, to me, as someone who's survived a LOT of trauma, what makes it very realistic and painful. Rarely in life are you prepared for something like this. Often times, the death, or potential loss, of a loved one comes out of the clear blue sky, and you're taken completely by surprise of it. Only if someone gets diagnosed with a terminal illness do you get the chance to maybe contemplate their impending demise, otherwise it's more or less "Hey, got a phone call from mom today, grandpa slipped in the kitchen and is dead now" and that's what you suddenly have to deal with. So no, I don't agree with those reviewers. I was certainly not prepared for my uncles death, but for different reasons, the main being I was a child and didn't really understand what was happening, so I couldn't really process it. And sometimes it's easier that way, to not be able to acknowledge something before it happens, to instead be caught off guard, because then you don't dread it happening, it just happens and you have to deal with it. I was in the hospital a lot myself when I was very little. I nearly died a few times from a few different things. Having not died, and not being older, knowing I'll have to die eventually, at some random time, is actually worse.
A Short Hike is beautiful. It's a calming, pseudo therapeutic slice of life with no real stress attached to it. Pick up and play numerous times, with a charming atmosphere, a gorgeous visual aesthetic and a wonderful message. It's so easy to play because it's just life. It's a snapshot into a window of time before you're hit with something terrible, and then you look back and go, "god, remember when things were easy?" It's a portrait of that ethereal, something feels wrong but I can't quite put my feather on it, sort of emotion you have right before something hits, and it's wonderful. Overcoming grief and pain, clawing your way to recovery, is a lot like climbing a mountain. The only difference is it isn't a short hike, at least not for me. It's a long, arduous process that requires sleeping in a tent in the absolute worst conditions, hoping that instead, the next day will see even just a hint of a ray of sunshine.
Because listen, I may be a super pessimistic bitch, but sometimes, man, sometimes that brief ray of sunshine...it's really, really worth weathering the storm.