Last year, around May, I met a girl.

She was intelligent, she created drones for a living, and she was beautiful. She was charming and smart and funny and we had the same interests, more or less. She was from the bay area, where I was from originally, and after knowing one another a bit, asked if I would like to move back. She offered to let me live in her house, and got extremely romantic towards me. And then she pulled away. She told me she wasn't gay, that she just enjoyed sometimes being sapphic, and that she felt it wouldn't work between us. But regardless, she was still interested in helping me out of my current living situation, being the nice friend that she was. This girl jerked me around, I'm not even going to put it lightly. Emotionally, psychologically, I was tortured. Then, one evening, she drove herself to the mental hospital and signed in, then ghosted me completely.

And this happened repeatedly throughout the year. I would meet women - women who I really liked and who seemed to like me back - who would then invariably use me for either emotional support or sexual experimentation, and then decide that I wasn't even worth enough to say goodbye when the passing interest came. Time and time again throughout the year. The worst was a girl I went to visit about 6 hours away with essentially raped me. That caused even more distrust in others and absolutely led me to finally embrace my aceness in a way I never had before. And then, in late October, I met another girl.

This girl instantly stole my heart. She was an artist, and a fantastic one at that, better than I could ever hope to be, and a writer and we liked the same video games and TV shows. She was much younger than me, but she was working through college for a degree and she was working at Walmart to save up money, and we loved spending time together. We would watch movies over stream, we made our own little personal discord server, it was wonderfully intimate. But the thing is, every single girl I interacted with last year had problems of the mental variety, and far be it from me to judge them for that, seeing how sick I actually am. This girl was no different. Not only was she living with a rather conservative father and wasn't out, but she was also on heavy antipsychotics so she wouldn't hear voices. In case you were wondering, no, this story doesn't have a happy ending either.

But before we get to that, I wanna talk about Unpacking.

I've never had a real home. In fact, for as long as I can remember, I've been shuffled around the states and back again. When I was 3 we lived in North Carolina until my father tried to kill my mother and I, then she and I moved back to California to live with my grandparents. Then she met a man named John, who lived in upstate NY. Soon we were there. When I was 5, he also became aggressive and violent towards her, and we came back to California. Then she met my stepdad. They were married for over a decade, until he decided, on Christmas morning right after her mother had passed away, to ask for a divorce. Soon enough, my mother and I were back on the road, heading to a beachside town. And it was like that from that point on. Since 2011, I have lived in 4 different states, and many various domiciles that resided within them. I should also clarify, for the record, that I fucking. hate. moving.

I'm a little bit of a pariah within my generation because not only am I monogamous, but I also don't like to travel. I also believe in getting married and having a family. All of these are things that - for entirely justifiable reasons, might I add - my peers and I seem to differ greatly on. So that's why Unpacking, at first, appealed to me. Knowing its short length and simplistic gameplay, I opted to never purchase it, but once I saw it was on Game Pass, I figured what the hell. At first, it was kind of exactly what I needed, a nice cozy little break from the other games I was currently knee deep in. Games that are of a massive scale. Games like Evil West and Hogwarts Legacy. I was pulled to coming back to Unpacking every day, doing only a level or two each time, simply to make it last longer because it was so wholesome and enjoyable. The pixel art style, for once, isn't an eyesore as it has become in recent years and the music is lovely. But little did I know that this would take a turn.

Partway through the game, you - a young Jewish woman - move in with a boyfriend, and after unpacking, make the note that there was barely any room for your stuff. It's a funny moment, but it's actually quite the foreshadowing. The next level sees you moving back to your old house, presumably to live with your parents as you're in your childhood bedroom. Clearly the relationship with this man has ended, and you're starting anew again. And then something happens. Something I didn't expect. You end up moving in with someone else a few chapters later, or rather they end up moving in with you. This time, instead of trying to cram yourself into someones life, where you clearly don't belong as he hasn't made enough space for you, now there's someone interested in putting you in their life. Someone willing to move in with you because they love you that much. It's a very wholesome moment, honestly. Except...

...it's another woman.

This is the thing that threw me. I got partway through the level and suddenly realized this persons belongings were feminine in nature. That's when it dawned on me, a Jewish lesbian, that this had suddenly become about a Jewish queer woman finding a girlfriend. The final chapter of the game sees you unpacking in an entire house, and suffice to say it emotionally wrecked me. See, when you come from a household of hatred, uncertainty and pain as I did, when your entire life is full of awful people trying to do you wrong, being forced to move again and again to escape the cruelty, all it did was make me fantasize about this very thing. To have a home. A home with a woman I love. And even a child. For god sakes, the lead is even a childrens book illustrator, and I'm an artist. The parallels were bizarre. The end of the game made me cry, especially the end credit song.

But why? Just because of my own craving for domesticity? Certainly that played a part in it, but no, there was something else. Let's return to our previous story.

That girl on antipsychotics? I was crazy for her. Absolutely crazy for her. Crazier than I'd been in years for anyone. But one morning, on January 1st, after having not gotten a refill on her meds thanks to it being the holidays, she went to work, texted me she was paranoid, and then blocked me on everything. I never heard from her again. To say this destroyed me was an understatement. We'd made plans to live together. We never had a single issue come up with anything. It just...happened so suddenly. I wasn't angry, because clearly she was suffering from some kind of psychotic break and far be it from me to judge her decisions based on that alone. But part of me tells me that it wasn't just that. Something told me, once again, I was deemed not good enough. She was scared. And this allowed her to get away scott free. Regardless, I was devastated, and from that point on, I just didn't believe in anything anymore. I stayed in bed, I no longer worked, and I cried most of the time I was awake. I'd always been a hopeless romantic. Now I was just hopeless. Love didn't exist, and if it did, it certainly wasn't for me.

And then...

...and then partway through this year, a girl approached me. A girl who has a stable job, who's about to get a degree in computer science. A girl who isn't unstable in any way, shape, or form. After chatting a bit, and telling her about what I'd been through in the past year, she very cautiously asked me to be her girlfriend, despite saying she was scared to ask because she knew how badly I'd been hurt. How hard it was to trust now. But I did. I opted in. Something told me she was worth the risk. And goddammit if she hasn't been. Sometime next year I'm moving out to be with her - she got an entirely new job simply to make more money so this can be a reality sooner - and she wants all the same things I want. Marriage. A family. She is, without a doubt, the single healthiest, non toxic relationship I've ever been in, and I hate that I'm so damaged that I constantly think I don't deserve it. Which is why it's so nice that she's so regularly reassuring. She is obsessed with me, with what I do. Always telling me how great and worthy I am, how pretty I am, and how happy she'll be to spend her future with me.

And the thing is, I've never had this level of reciprocation. None of the girls I dated were ever hopelessly romantic like I am. But she is. She is and it's wonderful. She uses pet names for me. No girl has ever used pet names for me. So for once in my life, I'm going to move, and enjoy the act, because I'm finally going to get what I've craved forever.

And that's why Unpacking hit me so hard. I wasn't expecting it to take the turn it did, and when it did, it made me reflect on how similar my current life is right now. I just spent 3 or so placing items in little digital living quarters, but next year I'm going to finally spend time decorating a real home with a woman who actually loves me as much as I love her. I've lived in many houses, but I've never had a home. She is now my home, and we are going to make a home together. I've never been more certain about anything in my life.

Who knew.

Sometimes dreams do come true.

My name is Mae. I write & make art for a living. If you like this review, you might also like my newest novel here, reading my media blog here and you can tip me for my work at Ko-Fi or subscribe at Patreon.

The act of definition is always also an act of exclusion. This is why I do not like when video games are given some kind of definition including story or loss conditions because this immediately excludes puzzle games or cozy games or many cool games which are, in fact, games.

You, however, may be like I was and balk at the idea of a video game where you unpack from a move. As a person who moved 9 times in roughly 9 years, I have no interest in moving anymore and if I did move, I would pay whatever is the required cost to have some company move the items for me. I hate moving. Moving can rot in Hell.

But I liked Unpacking. A game that broadly speaking replicates what I have found to be a deeply unpleasant experience was fairly enjoyable. Did I always pick the most orderly spot for a book, video game, bra, or plushie? No. Especially as the game reached its conclusion and the number of items I unpacked increased, I evacuated my cardboard boxes with a swelling velocity. Still, I never found the game tedious or dull. The plot elevates what might have been an otherwise monotonous experience to a thoughtful and joyful place. I cheered for my girl. I wanted life to treat her right and eagerly opened boxes hoping my desire would be rewarded.

Maybe if you played through my last 9 moves (from dorm to apartment to church parsonage to different church parsonage to parents' home to apartment to parents home to apartment to apartment to house), you would cheer for me. You'd mourn my losses and celebrate my victories. Maybe if people had an opportunity to move in your shoes, they would see your experiences as valid, human, and understandable. Maybe. But I can say with certainty that playing through Unpacking allowed me to see a moving simulator as a valid video game.

Banger soundtrack too.

I wondered if Unpacking would get to me. I mean, as I type, I am house sitting in a friends house to hide away from my own empty house that me and my partner are preparing to sell, after which we will go our seperate ways as far as living space is concerned. It's quite a little sanctuary here, and instead of neurotically cleaning and fixing up a place, I can just send out a few e-mails and play some games.

So, of course I thought of Unpacking. Part of me thinks of nothing else than the moment - horribly far in the future - where I can unpack the boxes of my own little place, wherever it may be. The game didn't grab me at first. Sure, it was nice to point and click, and it was very satisfying to make the rooms look good. There was also some cute little tension, like finding one shoe but not the other. Or mysterious items you don't know what to do with, before you realise they're fridge magnets.

But as you get to different houses, it becomes quite personal. You start to root for this box girl - like when she moves into a house with girl roommates who all seem to be just as geeky as her. Oh man, she must be having such a great time now. It's also quite touching to see the same items come back. Oh, she kept the mug, and that silly white shirt with the frills! You start to get attached.

Then you get to the level where she moves in with her boyfriend, the finance bro. A very stressful level, since there's just not enough room for her stuff (and her?). When you find out the right spot for her masters diploma in the arts is "under the bed"... Oh honey! And then the next level she's back in her kid's bedroom. You dodged a bullet there, girl! You put that picture in the closet.

The story evolves from there with many tragic and hopeful folds of life hidden in the tiny little details of unpacking. It was good it stopped where it did, on a high note in the persona's life. Also, at that point I had unpacked enough underpants for a while.

But, you know, I'm thinking that when I do find a place of own, I might throw an unpacking party.

I was pretty stoked about this when I saw the trailer. I imagined all the deep and dark and interesting places this format of storytelling could take.

This is not nearly as dark as I imagined it would be but I also had a stronger connection and investment than I expected!

I could not imagine how the push/pull of narrative authorship would feel in practice. The character.... exists. I can decide how they decorate and how that changes through different parts of their lives, BUT, it is not my things and not my story... ultimately it's hers.

Whatever you think about "death of the author" this feels the most like a pure distilled video game ass version of it!

I will say the "gameplay" really is just unboxing and the conflict is mostly in-between days where you as the player exists.

(I say mostly because the game will not end a scene until everything is placed and there are places it considers unacceptable, which felt like me fighting with the main character in the story.)

How much someone will enjoy this is how much of the work are you willing to put into telling this story of a life? If the idea of a single-player collaborative story sounds interesting, PLEASE give this a try?

I loved it!