A common complaint levied against visual novels is that they’re some of the most text-heavy games one can find on the market. Who wants to spend hours upon hours reading dialogue during precious gaming time? Answer: me, and plenty of other people, but it’s a valid perspective to consider. Visual novels are generally wordy beasts with extended runtimes, which can make their appeal rather limited. That makes the occasional outlier that bucks genre conventions all the more intriguing.
Such is the case with Dear me, I was…, a fresh visual novel from the minds at Arc System Works that eschews written or spoken dialogue in favour of relying on visuals and music to tell its narrative. It’s a bold stylistic move, but the heartfelt tale that this game weaves stands as a testament to how much a story can say without saying anything at all.
Over the course of its roughly hour-long runtime, Dear me, I was… chronicles the life of an unnamed woman from her early childhood years to adulthood and beyond. The narrative jumps between pivotal points in the protagonist’s life, capturing snapshot moments of joy and sorrow as she develops connections with the world and people around her. Most importantly, it depicts her lifelong journey as an artist and the way in which her relationship with this creative medium evolves as the years go by.
It’s a simple, grounded story devoid of the major twists or melodrama one might expect from the genre, but that’s entirely by design. The woman’s life is one that the average player can likely relate to on some level, and that makes her struggles, discoveries, and experiences all the more resonant. I was genuinely caught off guard by how hard some of the emotional moments hit me, in spite of the game’s abbreviated length. The story tackles themes of loss and self-doubt with an impressive degree of realism and restraint, which makes its heavier beats feel earned rather than coming off as cheap tearjerker attempts.
Of course, the core story of Dear me, I was… is elevated considerably by its unique presentation. With art director Taisuke Kanasaki at the helm, the game’s visual identity evokes shades of Cing classics like Hotel Dusk and the Another Code series. This title features an elegant, painterly art style with heavy use of watercolours. Tonal shifts in the story are accompanied by movement between vibrant full colour, cooler blue-and-grey, and black-and-white palettes — a clever way of visually expressing the protagonist’s emotional state.
Characters also display an impressive degree of fluid movements and nuanced expressions thanks to the use of rotoscoping of the live-action cast for animation. These detailed visuals, combined with the melancholy tones of the piano-oriented soundtrack, add another layer of richness and depth to the story while simultaneously keeping everything expressive enough to clearly convey the narrative without words.
In terms of gameplay, Dear me, I was… features a touch of interactivity through the incorporation of basic point-and-click sections. Throughout each chapter, the occasional sequence sees you performing basic actions like eating breakfast or drawing a sketch. You have your choice of button controls, touch controls, or even the Switch 2’s built-in Joy-Con 2 mouse controls for these portions, which is neat.
That said, these scenes usually amount to little more than clicking somewhere on the screen once or twice without much in the way of game essence. Rather, the occasional interactive element serves as a means to deepen the player’s connection with the protagonist’s story by having them perform small actions to progress it. I’m fine with that limited degree of player input, though I would have appreciated some more creativity for these interactive sequences in the vein of the puzzles from Florence — a game with a similar tone and format.
All in all, Dear me, I was… is quite the enjoyable audio-visual experience — which, unfortunately, makes its incredibly short duration a bit of a bummer. While it’s priced accordingly and manages to tell a touching little tale in a very limited timespan, it’s tough for me not to feel like I breezed through the whole thing in the blink of an eye. It’s concise almost to a fault, and there are portions of the plot where slowing things down a bit and letting certain story beats breathe could have resulted in an even more compelling narrative.
I suppose that’s part of the game’s point, though — life goes by quickly. Perhaps the fact that I was left wanting more of Dear me, I was… speaks more to the quality of its content than any other compliments I could give it.
Conclusion
In some ways, it feels counterintuitive to write a review of Dear me, I was… — a title which centres upon capturing heavy feelings that can’t be so easily put into words. However, it’s not every day that a visual novel successfully manages to craft a moving narrative about art, life, and the passage of time solely on the merit of its visual and musical storytelling.
Even if the game itself remains silent, Dear me, I was… is worth talking about.
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