(This essay will contain major spoilers for all of the major routes of Undertale, as well as themes of mental illness, suicide, and death.)
Autumn 2015 sure was a good time for indie games, huh?
Remember how I said that writing about We Know The Devil was
intimidating, since it felt like so many people had already written so many amazing
things about it? Well, imagine that feeling and multiply by a thousand, and you
might know what it feels like trying to write something about Undertale. If
you’ve spent more than 10 minutes on Tumblr, Twitter, or just about any website
between September 15, 2015 and now, you may have heard about it a few times:
the little indie project that could, the love letter to the JRPG, the
examination of morality in video games, the new big thing all your intellectual
friends scoffed at for being too popular. Dogs. Pasta. Skeletons. Any of that
ring a bell?
Undertale is an
independent role-playing game created by Toby Fox in which the player controls
a young child who falls into a strange world populated by monsters and attempts
to escape while meeting a cast of colorful characters and learning more about
their history and underground society. Like most RPGs, you do battle with
monsters, but through a unique combat and dialogue system, you must choose if
you want to kill monsters or spare them. Depending on what you choose, you get
a different game experience.
There is… quite a lot one could say about Undertale. You
could talk about how the unique combat system refreshes the concept of an RPG
using bullet hell elements and puzzle-solving. You could talk about how it
alternately examines, retools, or deconstructs common video game mechanics and
tropes. You could talk about how it uses its soundtracks and leitmotifs to
strengthen its storytelling. You could talk about the various ways it plays
with the concept of morality systems in video games. You could talk about how
much you want to kiss Undyne. You could talk about how it made you cry, and
cry, and cry.
Like I said. Intimidating.
There’s lots of good articles and essays about Undertale out
there that I like. I’m sure you have a couple. So, yeah, maybe I’m literally a
year too late to be getting on this particular train. But here’s the thing:
Undertale affected me. It’s a little embarrassing admitting that you were
deeply touched by a colorful little video game full of goofy cartoon
characters. But it did, and it REALLY did. And the thing is, whenever something
affects me to the point I can’t stop thinking about it, I’ve just gotta write
about it, and write about it and write about it until I can’t anymore.
It wasn’t even a week ago when I realized I had to stop
being paranoid that I had nothing meaningful to add to the Internet about We
Know The Devil. And now I’ve got yet another One Year Later piece I’m itching
to write, and another bout of self-consciousness to fight off. The problem is,
this one isn’t just the quasi-hipster fear of talking about the thing Everyone
And Their Annoying Dog Loved And Wrote A Thesis About. It’s because I want to
get really personal about Undertale. I want to get personal, and sincere, and
maybe a little weird.
But, well… Undertale is nothing if not sincere and a little
weird, right? So maybe I can manage that much.
I want to talk to you about Undertale as a narrative about
depression and suicide ideation.
honestly just really like undertale 