The scene in which they drop everything to take a midnight dip in Blackwell Academy’s pool brings together everything Life Is Strange does well – and might well become a defining moment for how people remember the series. It’s just hyper-real enough to seem filmic, lit only by shimmering underwater light, but Max and Chloe’s conversation – of lost youths, small-town pathos and, yes, boys – brings it down to Earth. Just as Max seems to step towards over-familiar video game heroism, we get a moment where we’re reminded that she is, after all, just a dorky teenager. It’s meditative, charming, and no one says “hella” at all, thank god.
Dontnod has clearly become happier to simply stop things, to let you and Max think for a moment. Previous episodes built in benches to sit on, optional monologues to play out. Here, those moments are built into the story – you even get a chance to choose the soundtrack for one of them this time. That’s not to say it’s particularly slow – in fact, the strength of the episode is in how much it varies, veering from location to location, but always letting you breathe once you’re there. Chaos Theory pushes its detective angle by including multi-character conversation puzzles, one particularly neat use of time reversal to get into a locked room, and even includes an honest-to-goodness stealth section.
It’s an unusually pretty episode, too. Someone at Dontnod has developed a cameraman’s eye, with artful shots of stretching, just-woken feet in bed, depth of field experiments and some softly beautiful lighting – put it this way, I took multiple screenshots of the reflection given off by a vending machine.
And then there’s the ending. If Episode 2’s climax was the first time we had our “I can’t believe they went there” moment, Episode 3 delivers the series’ inaugural cliffhanger, a full-on Breaking Bad, “wish this was Netflix so I could see the next one” moment. One particular shot forced an exclamation out of me that I can only explain as sounding like a dog bursting. However long the wait for Episode 4 turns out to be, it will seem too long. Just like its teen protagonists, Life Is Strange is experimenting, finding out what it wants to be – unlike most teens, it’s getting more likeable by the minute.
How is Episode 2: Out of Time?
Episode 2: Out of Time picks up the day after the events of Chrysalis, and we now know that Max must discover the nature of her powers and find a way to stop an impending disaster before the week is out. Drama stops for no woman though, and she still has to deal with the swirling tempest of emotional turmoil that is high school and all the catastrophes that come with it. She deals with a lot of heavy stuff as a result, like cyberbullying and drug abuse, but Out of Time doesn’t stop there. Rather than focus in on one or two big issues, the episode piles on as many as it can, until it seems like it’s working off a checklist of teen movie clichés.
This focus isn’t negative in and of itself – a story of adolescence that doesn’t at least acknowledge tough topics would feel unrealistic. Plus, being bombarded with one hellish situation after another reflects how it feels to be a teenager in a way players can likely identify with. However, so many different problems fall on Max’s head in rapid succession you feel like you’re watching an after school special, with the episode trying to cram in every hot-button issue from ignorant school officials and harassment to gun violence and depression into its runtime. Trying to pay attention to so many different topics at once ends up with few of them being addressed to their fullest, and some fall off the map entirely (gun violence and institutional corruption come to mind).
That’s a shame, because Out of Time’s best moments are when it slows down for a little ruminating and some slice of life action. Many of the episode’s most interesting scenes involve Max’s interactions with Chloe, where Max proves her powers are legit by guessing what’s in Chloe’s pockets or the two bond while strolling down a railroad track. While drama’s eventually inserted to move the plot along (seriously, don’t walk on train tracks), getting to know the characters first makes these moments feel a lot more human and interesting. Even when scenes are built entirely on the back of a dramatic topic (like a particular late-game interaction between Kate and Max that shall not be spoiled), Out of Time is at its best when it knows to focus on the people of Arcadia Bay, and I hope we see more of that going forward.
Moments when the plot slows down and lets Max get to know the people around her also show how Out of Time continues the nuanced approach to choice seen in Chrysalis. It’s rarely clear what impact a decision will have until much later, and it isn’t just the ‘big’ choices that matter either. Even when the game doesn’t advertise the importance of a given decision with a fluttering butterfly graphic, any given choice can end up being a huge deal later on. It’s not exaggerating to say that something as subtle as perusing the bookshelf of one of Max’s schoolmates can mean the difference between life and death for someone else later.
Everything from a crumpled Post-It note to a damning photograph can wind up being critical to Max’s future, and the importance of these tiny clues encourages you to slow down and explore the landscape of Arcadia Bay more closely. When you can’t tell what’s important, everything is. You just have to figure out what really matters through trial and error, and that’s a pretty interesting metaphor for adolescence itself.
How is Episode 1: Chrysalis?
Right from the get-go, Life is Strange makes a point of setting its tone and broadcasting its influences: the almost-bluegrass playlist on Max’s iPod, an autumn setting photogenic enough to crash Pinterest’s servers, and a character-focused narrative a la Gone Home and Heavy Rain speak to a love for all things indie.
While it would be very easy for that focus to come off as snobby and obnoxious, Chrysalis avoids that by being more interested in the material than acting self-congratulatory. The result is an aesthetic that’s charming in its sincerity, a soundtrack tied tightly into the narrative, and an art style that’s colorful, sketchy and stylized without choking on quirkiness. The setting is also lovingly realized through what was clearly no small amount of research. Having grown up in Oregon, I was pleasantly surprised to find a recognizable Oregon Coast postcard (sold in basically every real-life coastal shop in the state) make an appearance, as well as locations resembling actual landmarks I’d seen throughout my childhood. That clear level of love and dedication to world-building elevates the world of Life is Strange to a place you actually want to visit and explore.
But there isn’t much time to knit a cute scarf and watch the leaves fall, since the bulk of Life is Strange’s gameplay revolves around reversing time and testing tough choices. Max’s powers manifest after she witnesses a traumatic event and reverses time in distress – after that, she’s able to undo and redo any major choice (fans of Remember Me, Dontnod’s previous game, may recognize the memory remix mechanic therein).
While that would initially seem to take the oomph out of the choice-based system, Chrysalis utilizes it with nuance and long-term uncertainty. There are few instances where a choice is strictly positive or negative – even reporting the bathroom shooter has its drawbacks – and weighing the benefits and consequences of each big choice ends up being a surprisingly thoughtful task. In addition, the long-term results are rarely clear until much later, when it’s too late to go back. Sure, saving your friend from being abused feels like the right decision now (as it should), but the subsequent chain of events can be disastrous for Max down the road. While some players may find this mechanic annoying and feel they’re being punished for a lack of clairvoyance, it nonetheless gives weight back to your choices in a world where they would otherwise be rendered moot.
All this time-bending kerflufflery would be nothing without an interesting cast to use it on. Chrysalis gets off to a bit of a rocky start in this department, as you’re quickly introduced to a slew of character clichés you might remember from every teen comedy ever made: the wallflower geek, the needlessly bitchy rich girls, the arrogant jocks, the overweight outcast, the shy religious kid, and so on. Sam’s geeky inner monologue also feels forced from time to time, where she doesn’t use her nerdy slang quite right and you can see the shadows of adult writers on the metaphorical back wall.
Thankfully, these problems are softened as the game goes on – Max’s innermost thoughts fall into a believable rhythm, and her one-note classmates and the bumbling adults around them start to develop nuance. I personally sat up when the religious girl was harassed for doing something not at all pious, and the school security guard showed he was far more nefarious than a typical glorified mall cop. Also, the addition of Max’s estranged childhood friend Chloe (who smokes weed and looks like she listens to a lot of Dead Kennedys mixtapes) acquaints her with the mystery of Rachel Amber, Chloe’s life-mate who vanished under mysterious circumstances. While their introductions are shaky and lean on stereotypes, the opportunity has been left open to explore their intricacies as the season progresses.
When the characters are established, the stakes are set and the credits roll, Life is Strange: Chrysalis is unquestionably a staging ground. While there’s plenty of opportunity to poke around and learn things about Blackwell Academy, little of it has any immediate impact. A dozen plot threads are laid out with little explanation, but it’s clear that they’re meant to be significant in episodes to come. But if future Life is Strange episodes maintain the same lovingly crafted game world, compellingly tough choices, and increasingly layered characters, then this series will be well worth investing in.
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