Three Fourths Home is undeniably itself (feat. *SPOILERS*)
Hey there, it's Menow.
Three Fourths Home, a micro-visual novel from [bracket]games and Zach Sanford, was on ultra sale on the Nintendo Switch eShop around Christmastime. I was extremely sick, I had Gold Points to burn, so I forked over my golden dues alongside twenty American cents and fired this baby up.
The game opens on a rainy evening in Nebraska. My name's Kelly. I'm driving a car. My own hands must hold the right trigger to accelerate, and if I let go, I decelerate until the whole game comes to a stop. The dialogue ceases, the car doesn't move. When I accelerate again, everything resumes. This was neat at first, but then I was holding the accelerator for I don't know, 10 straight minutes? Applying strangely-angled pressure for that long was irritating at best.
As I drive, I'm on the phone with my family. Relationships are testy since I left for college a few years ago. I don't call home much, but now I've lost my job and suddenly I live at home again.
I navigate through a conversation with my mother first. She worries about everything but veils it in frustration. I was pretty mean to her.
Next, my disabled father. He recently retired due to an accident where he lost part of his leg. He grows two tomato plants in the backyard; he cares for them more than he's cared for me. He's kind, but has that "oblivious dad" air about him that hit a little too close to home. I wasn't mean to him.
Last, my little brother, Ben. Earlier in the conversation with my mother, she hints that he has Aspergers, as he cannot read social cues. He tells me he's been writing a lot lately, a transition from when he used to play guitar with me when I lived at home. I ask him to read me something he's written. He does. It's a disturbing story about a civilization of people and a monster and everyone is miserable and even when the people get what they think they want, they're still totally screwed and nothing is better. I ask him why he wrote something like that. He doesn't know, he says. He just wanted to write something. I tell him I found him a guitar pick back at the old barn I had visited, and I'm bringing it home for him. He responds, "I don't want it," and hands the phone back to Mom.
It's dark now. My mother is worried. A tornado warning comes in over the radio. They hear the alarms outside. My mother, father, and brother head down to the basement. The call's cut off.
And that's it. That's the game.
I sat back on the couch and stared at the stark white title screen. It ended so soon. That must be what Kelly thought.
I purchased the "extended edition" of this game, so I promptly booted up the Epilogue.
This time, you begin standing at a bus stop. You can choose to walk Kelly right, away from the bench, or left, back toward the bench. It's snowing.
I'm having a conversation with my mother. For an instant, I thought perhaps I had been wrong that the entire family had died. It became clear fairly soon that this conversation is in Kelly's head. Mom delivers a few too many self-aware fourth-wall-breaking replies to Kelly's college updates and apologies for not calling more often.
I have so many conversations with my loved ones in my head. Running back over what I could have said, over and over again. This second half allowed me to wonder what would be different about my adult life if I had let my parents in a little more. I still have zero intention of doing that, mind. But I wondered.
Three Fourths Home captures the longing, regret, and guilt I feel for not being a great kid, and how messy it is trying to be an adult person but also staying true to my child self and to my biological family I just happened to get born to. I know I've spoiled it, but I haven't really. Letting yourself navigate these conversations and move through these moments is certainly a worthwhile endeavor if you have a few spare bucks and a half-hour.
Brb, gonna go call my mom.
Three Fourths Home, a micro-visual novel from [bracket]games and Zach Sanford, was on ultra sale on the Nintendo Switch eShop around Christmastime. I was extremely sick, I had Gold Points to burn, so I forked over my golden dues alongside twenty American cents and fired this baby up.
 | |
| The title screen is so clean look at it |
The game opens on a rainy evening in Nebraska. My name's Kelly. I'm driving a car. My own hands must hold the right trigger to accelerate, and if I let go, I decelerate until the whole game comes to a stop. The dialogue ceases, the car doesn't move. When I accelerate again, everything resumes. This was neat at first, but then I was holding the accelerator for I don't know, 10 straight minutes? Applying strangely-angled pressure for that long was irritating at best.
As I drive, I'm on the phone with my family. Relationships are testy since I left for college a few years ago. I don't call home much, but now I've lost my job and suddenly I live at home again.
 |
| So emo Kelly |
I navigate through a conversation with my mother first. She worries about everything but veils it in frustration. I was pretty mean to her.
Next, my disabled father. He recently retired due to an accident where he lost part of his leg. He grows two tomato plants in the backyard; he cares for them more than he's cared for me. He's kind, but has that "oblivious dad" air about him that hit a little too close to home. I wasn't mean to him.
Last, my little brother, Ben. Earlier in the conversation with my mother, she hints that he has Aspergers, as he cannot read social cues. He tells me he's been writing a lot lately, a transition from when he used to play guitar with me when I lived at home. I ask him to read me something he's written. He does. It's a disturbing story about a civilization of people and a monster and everyone is miserable and even when the people get what they think they want, they're still totally screwed and nothing is better. I ask him why he wrote something like that. He doesn't know, he says. He just wanted to write something. I tell him I found him a guitar pick back at the old barn I had visited, and I'm bringing it home for him. He responds, "I don't want it," and hands the phone back to Mom.
It's dark now. My mother is worried. A tornado warning comes in over the radio. They hear the alarms outside. My mother, father, and brother head down to the basement. The call's cut off.
 |
I sat back on the couch and stared at the stark white title screen. It ended so soon. That must be what Kelly thought.
I purchased the "extended edition" of this game, so I promptly booted up the Epilogue.
This time, you begin standing at a bus stop. You can choose to walk Kelly right, away from the bench, or left, back toward the bench. It's snowing.
I'm having a conversation with my mother. For an instant, I thought perhaps I had been wrong that the entire family had died. It became clear fairly soon that this conversation is in Kelly's head. Mom delivers a few too many self-aware fourth-wall-breaking replies to Kelly's college updates and apologies for not calling more often.
I have so many conversations with my loved ones in my head. Running back over what I could have said, over and over again. This second half allowed me to wonder what would be different about my adult life if I had let my parents in a little more. I still have zero intention of doing that, mind. But I wondered.
Three Fourths Home captures the longing, regret, and guilt I feel for not being a great kid, and how messy it is trying to be an adult person but also staying true to my child self and to my biological family I just happened to get born to. I know I've spoiled it, but I haven't really. Letting yourself navigate these conversations and move through these moments is certainly a worthwhile endeavor if you have a few spare bucks and a half-hour.
Brb, gonna go call my mom.
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