# Wanderstop review – a wonderful break from the pressure to win

T The term “cosy game” typically inspires one of two responses in those of us who play video games regularly. It will either call you in with the promise of soft, resource-management oriented gameplay whose slower pace offers a gentle escape and a bucolic alternative to gunslinging and high-stress adventure. Or it will repel you – as admittedly, it repels me. Cosy is often a kind of code for twee, low-stakes domestic adventures where drama is eschewed in favour of repetitive tasks intended to generate comfort, or imitate lightning-in-a-bottle resource management sims such as  or .

So when faced with Wanderstop, a colourful game in which a fallen warrior trades in her fighting life for managing a tea shop, I was hesitant. However, this is Davey Wreden’s third project, after The Stanley Parable and The Beginner’s Guide, which means that, if it is anything like its predecessors, it will be full of surprises and made with deep attention to detail and artistic vision. Wreden is an auteur – one of his trademarks being a knowing, wry postmodernism. His work bends what the medium of the video game is capable of, and thankfully this latest offering is no exception.



Wanderstop excels at combining the nature of the gameplay with a narrative about the perils of burnout. The game practises what it preaches – it does not simply gesture towards a quiet life; rather, it erects one around the player whether they like it or not.

Alta, our fallen warrior protagonist, distinctly does not like it. She has lost too many battles in a row, and on a quest to study under her hero, finds herself collapsing in the woods. Boro, a benevolent gentleman who runs the Wanderstop teashop, takes Alta in and coaxes her into participating in some tea-making and light chores until she recovers. Characters come and go while the player makes them tea and maintains the colourful and dangerously Ghibli-esque gardens. Aside from making tea, you can take care of some fine creatures that look like puffins. Take photos. Sweep. Gather trinkets. Read some of the books that are lying around. Grow plants, pick seeds, grow bigger plants, pick fruit. Use the fruit to make tea. Give the tea away to your guests, or drink it yourself, staring into the lovely landscape.



This is not an unfamiliar vignette. Wytchwood, Spiritfarer, Spirittea, Moonstone Island – there are plenty of games that deal in combining botanical ingredients to fulfil the wishes of whimsical creatures. What makes Wanderstop different is that it refuses to hand you progress or resolution. There is no way to optimise, no way to tick off boxes, no pressure. No winning. The game refuses to give you the satisfaction of the grind, of boxes ticking up, neat little rows of plants. To explain how the story manages this would be to spoil the great magic trick of the game – but suffice to say I was awestruck at real ludonarrative harmony in action. It is one thing to talk, within the dialogue and story of a game, about burnout. About working so hard you can no longer even think about working. It is one thing to extol the virtues of rest. It is another altogether to actively demonstrate what surrender and healing look and feel like.

On a technical level, the game offers no resistance – the controls are immaculate, straightforward and cleanly executed. The music is pleasant and unobtrusive, the voice acting is used in small doses and is very strong. The mechanical aspects of the game are perfectly tuned and the dialogue and incidental text are funny, surprising, and shockingly poignant when they need to be. There are no snags to trip up on, nothing in the way of a deeply transporting experience.

It takes around 12 hours to “complete” Wanderstop, but for me the game demands a replay immediately. I was eager to return to the gardens around the teashop, to look for secrets, to talk to Boro as much as possible. To linger for a little while more. To slow down, and to consider what exactly it is that is rushing all of us. If the slippery and infallible nature of the gameplay is frustrating to seasoned resource management fans, I would argue that that is exactly the point. To play while letting go.

Wanderstop’s cosy and cute exterior belies something much richer and much cleverer than I have seen in quite some time. It is a masterpiece in a cute disguise – offering the player a place worth visiting, staying and paying attention to.

Wanderstop is out now, £20
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