I was hanging up my heavy winter coat, slightly sweaty, when I turned and saw Marina Kittaka’s game, Anodyne 2: Return to Dust, for the first time.
When I was a young adult fresh out of college, I was at an event in Minneapolis, Minnesota, organized to give local developers the chance to have their games playtested. The venue was an apartment converted into an office space on the second floor of a building just above the local Chinese restaurant. Game developers got to observe people playtesting their games for free. I went to play video games and meet new people in a friendly atmosphere. I settled in and saw Anodyne 2 running on a large flat-screen television situated on a table less than a foot away from a couch.
The game’s look entranced me immediately. The main character is rendered in polygonal models reminiscent of early PlayStation games and wears a winged helmet that reminded me of the Wing Cap from Super Mario 64. The game oozes a palette of yellows, pinks, and blues that feels soft, like a summer sunset. At the time, the game entranced me, but Marina’s work didn’t just interest me or provide me with entertainment. Her artistic practice went on to enrich my life in ways I don’t think any major AAA title or other thoughtfully made indie games have. And it’s because of her that I think we need to start thinking through what it means to play and support the development of video games on a local level.