When Big Walk is a group date

House House's group puzzle game is a unique proposition for a trio of intimate partners

Two of the bird-like avatars from Big Walk sit on yellow stools, each holding a walkie talkie. It is dark outside around them.
Image: Big Walk (House House/Panic) via Madeline Blondeau

I live in a single-bathroom duplex with my fiancé and with my partner of three years (who is also my best friend of over twice that); I alternate which of the two bedrooms I sleep in each night. I call my fiancé “mama” in vulnerable moments; my partner and I greet each other as “big sister” and “little sister,” respectively. Our bills are shared, we split the groceries, and most nights, we all gather in the same basement living room with our stray cat. When we go on shared outings together, I call them “group dates,” even though I’m the only one dating either one of them. And lately, our “group dates” have taken place in House House’s new video game Big Walk

I may not have touched Big Walk without my fiancé. In the weeks leading up to the release of the game, the game’s publisher, Panic, held a series of appointments for it in their local offices. These appointments were 45-60-minute trial sessions of the game in a curated environment. Often on the lookout for things to do together around town, my fiancé saw this and suggested it. Together, we’d experience Big Walk for the first time, then go out for drinks after.

Big Walk is a unique proposition for intimate partners who live together like we do. Before the title screen, House House asks players to sit in separate areas and not share screens. The developer also only wants players to use the proximity-based voice chat, as opposed to GameChat or the like. At the preview event in the Panic offices, my partners and I sat at separate individual kiosks. This was a consumptive sensory experience, aided by headphones and RGB light rigs which responded to the game’s visual information.

Big Walk’s proximity-based communication mechanics put the onus on the player and the party. Without a HUD or narration to bark orders and drop breadcrumbs, the game becomes a space to center a couple or group’s IRL dynamic. No amount of money spent in the name of “immersion” can touch this brand of raw, honest realism. House House’s primary-hued avian orb creatures are a uniform virtual costume to inhabit, Barney The Dinosaur by way of geometric art. They break down barriers of race and sex to weigh a person’s humanity beyond visual signifiers. This forces honest, clear communication from all parties. The power of a name — lifelong or chosen — is centered, as well as the ability to convey abstract concepts through description and through the limited range of emotes available.

A character in Big Walk sits on a platform with a button on it. Nearby, there is a display of boards with text on them.
Image: Big Walk (House House/Panic) via Madeline Blondeau

Some of the game’s most inventive puzzles present players with doodles or symbols, then place a barrier between them and force one party to communicate to the other through gestures, pointing, or description. Others require a pair or party to time out button presses, go on a scavenger hunt for puzzle pieces, or pool together a collective count to punch in a number. In all cases, players must not only comprehend and solve the puzzle in question, but be able to teach its solution to their co-op partners. This communication is key to enjoying Big Walk. But communicating between two people you date, in individual relationships, makes that dynamic feel a little more tangible — even when physically separate.

At home, we hole up in three rooms to play — me posted up on the downstairs couch, my partners in each of their respective rooms upstairs. During bathroom breaks, I come into both rooms and give them each a little kiss, then descend back into my colored LED containment chamber. It’s a disruption to our normal routine, as we tend to even play Fortnite online together in the same space.

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