by Dante (@videodante)
- Little Party
- by Turnfollow (
Ian Endsley and Carter Lodwick
)
- PC (itch.io)
Single Press is a series of short writings on small games.
I could probably count the games where you play as a mother on one hand. There aren’t many, and for this alone, Little Party should be valued. But more than that, it takes a great deal of care in crafting a small, low-poly world that feels comfortable and warm. The house that the game centers on is quickly adjusted to and feels lived-in. Cramped but cozy.
Games often fetishize routine, but do it shallowly. Routine is used to justify movement, to make movement important, to progress the storyline or get you to the next level faster. There is a sanctity in small movements, in little things. This is where Little Party lives. In the routines, the small things crafted lovingly, the stories that we tell between giggles at sleepovers.
The game is soft. As the mother, your main ‘goal’ is only to observe, to help out, to smile from the background as your daughter entertains her friends. It’s a poignant place to be, as she is clearly at the age where there is a constant internal negotiation if her mother is embarrassing or not. The few conversations in the game reveal a genuine awkwardness, the natural language of adult/child conversations at the teen stage. Your job in the game is never to be the person in the spotlight, but to be the spotlight- and to make sure that the person in the spotlight is safe, and comfortable, and to check in. It puts the player in the role of a caretaker, more than a person of direct action.
One of the more interesting consequences of this design is that the player never feels like they are rushed to do anything. It’s a game that is beautifully without stress, or timers, or intrinsic feelings of ‘not doing enough.’ You are always doing enough. You are facilitating someone being creative, and having fun, and maybe the fun that teenagers have isn’t the fun that you are looking for anymore, and maybe your idea of fun is a wine glass and a novel and a couch. The wonderful thing about Little Party is that it recognizes that people are different, and people change. Not everyone wants to run around making a movie, and not everyone thinks a quiet night alone is the best use of a Saturday night. Instead of hammering home that the mother is constantly worn out, or frustrated by her daughter- which could easily be implemented in a gamelike fashion (see: any dining sim, rushing between tables, etc)- there is an implicit understanding between the mother and the daughter that each needs their own space. This is never played as conflict, but used to further the game’s idea of respect and understanding.
It is a game that recognizes there is love in the act of making guacamole for a room of hungry children, and even if your daughter is a bit quick on replying you know that she loves you back. The short bits of ‘dialogue’ between the mother and the various teenagers romping around the house feel instantly recognizable to anyone who can remember play dates at friends’ houses, investigating a living space that is familiar in shape but not in content. The player can empathize with the kids, using this space as a creative foundation for the gameplay experience, while inhabiting a character who, in context, knows the space intimately. It’s a fascinating sort of play experience, existing between ‘rote’ and ‘unknown’. As a player, you are a guest in this house. It’s a good thing the house is working so hard to make you feel welcome.
The game opens with a soft folk ballad with a repeating line, “I love you so much/Do you understand” which, really, describes most of the feel of the game. It’s a story about loving each other- in the ways that families can love and support each other, in times when support is necessary. In the little world of Little Party, there is caring. There’s love. Games like this are important- there’s a little pocket of “we can be better” in every movement.