now playing: "The Company of Myself"

The Company of Myself
Genre(s): Puzzle
Credits: 2DArray, 2009

What really is "normal" human behavior? This is a question popularly and successfully tackled in literature (Camus's The Stranger, A Happy Death) and in film (Nolan's Dark Knight) but when it comes to games, perhaps because of the medium's inherent interactivity, it becomes a tricky subject first for the writer or designer (pressured to induce a fresh paradigm shift on a theme or stereotypical story) and second for the player (who despite the fact that he knows "it's just a game" sometimes finds himself at psychological risk because of his character role-play of an inmate, a victim, a morally-indecisive "good guy," etc.).

Although placing the player or viewer in the shoes of the sympathetic protagonist who's at some point in the game compelled to answer the question above is the most popular way of exploring this topic, it's not necessarily the most accurate to life. 2DArray puts the player in their true role—as a third-person observer, hearing the life story and depressing philosophy of a hermit. As he relates more and more pieces of his biography through a series of platform puzzle levels, situational irony blends "normal" and "abnormal" almost perfectly together. He explains that his two passions in life were "performing" and "a girl named Kathryn"—and although he has abandoned these interests long ago, they're the foundation of the cryptic dialogue, uncovered narrative, and actual gameplay.

The first level where the "ghosting" clone technique is used.

In the introductory scrolling text sequence (which is drawn out intentionally to slow down the player), he explains that "when every other person gets stuck, they have their friends and associates to back them up. I don't." And thus he declares his ability to be independent (an irony related to the game's ending which I will not spoil for you), and advances through the platform puzzles by using a "ghosting" technique—recording a series of actions and attaching them to a ghostly-looking clone, then restarting his original position and using that clone as a stepladder, a switch-flipper, or any other number of jobs that will enable our funereal protagonist to pass through the green door at the end of each level.

How to employ one's ghostly selves on a level. Geronimo indeed.

Thus physical loneliness is overcome by a weird kind of cognitive overcrowding—an extension of the quest for lone independence that the main character tries to exhibit in the face of his shattered self-confidence. Just as survival horror works best with an FPS mechanic and not the turn-based RPG method, so a game about a man's schizophrenic/multiple personalities works best with the controlled-clone mechanic. (I'm sure there's an official name for this tactic somewhere, but as I've only seen it once or twice, it's actually still so original that it's outside the trope boundaries.)

Compelling puzzles aside, the lowly and haunting soundtrack is a core part of the gameplay experience, setting a contemplative mood that eventually replaces any player apathy with fully wrung-out heartstrings just in time for the scrolling text finale that reveals a Twilight Zone-esque meaningless ending.

The Company of Myself is ironically named, suggesting that when no one else is there for you, you still have "yourself." Is this a delusion, or a viable truth? While solving the entire game (without a walkthrough's aid) can very well occupy a full half-hour, it is definitely one of the most satisfying experiences I've come across in my quest for good casual games, packed with all the emotional energy that Aerith's death delivered to Final Fantasy VII players with all the crazed exisistential insanity that Heath Ledger's Joker provides. Unlike the Joker, however, this protagonist doesn't grin broadly—he stares right off into space.

Next time: Madagascar. Not the movie. The country that never gets sick.