We’re nearly a year into a pandemic, and I’m watching a spindly little gremlin with bright yellow eyes go about his day at a painstaking rate. Finding some coal for his fireplace takes about 10 minutes. Walking back from the mine takes another 20. At one point, he comes across a large stone door—it takes 2 full hours for him to open it. He’s totally alone, accompanied only by odd, somber thought-bubbles and the echoing noises of the cave he calls home.
Everything takes forever in The Longing, an eccentric indie point-and-click game released by Studio Seufz last March, one that has decidedly taken on new depth and meaning in a year of pandemic, isolation, and loneliness. You play as the Shade, who is the last faithful servant of an ancient King of a long-forgotten kingdom underground. The game begins with scant direction for the little guy: the King announces that he’s going to sleep for 400 days to recover the final vestiges of his magic and strength. Your job is simply to wait, alone and in real time, with the directive that you are not to leave the cave under any circumstances.
Notably, the game does not even have a main menu. Boot it up and you will be greeted with a large word flashing across the screen: “WAIT…” The game then boots up with the Shade waiting for you, just where you left him last time. Time in-game passes just the same whether you’re directing the Shade or not. One of the studio’s goals with the game seems to have been to teach you about the beauty of patience in a world where so many of us are rushing through our lives.
Nowadays, no one is doing much rushing. Things are much slower. This seems independent of how severely one’s life is currently being altered by the pandemic. Working in person, unemployed, or working from home; living in socially-distanced near-isolation or still attempting to suss out a safe personal life during all of this—no matter what, some aspects of your life must be more restricted than ever before.
Many weddings and life events have been put on hold, and most people see loved ones and family at least slightly less than usual. The result is less gossip, anecdotes, and inside jokes to pass the time. I suspect that, this deep into the pandemic, greater repetition has become more of a universal experience for people whose work and social aspirations have been suddenly narrowed.
While The Longing was released back in March and had been in the works long before COVID, the studio might as well have developed the game with the pandemic in mind. It certainly struck a chord with me. I’ve been spared a prolonged loss of employment, but like most people, isolation from friends and family has been trying. I moved across the country to a new city last year and have found myself away from dear friends while pandemic circumstances have made connecting with new ones difficult. Likewise, high-risk family members back home have made me particularly nervous to chart a visit back home to Michigan. I may be overly cautious, but my concerns are hardly unique. My saving graces are my girlfriend and two new cats, without whom life would be bleak indeed.
Compared to the endless horrors COVID-19 has inflicted on so many, some small loneliness and heartache seem like too minor a problem for us to mention loudly and often. But nor is it so trivial as to warrant no mention at all.
The Longing is 400 full days, alone, but the Shade’s time need not be fruitless. High on his list of desires is to repair his beloved instrument (he’s quite terrible, but he’ll practice happily for hours), collect art supplies, and expand his collection of classic literature. You can help him do each in turn, directing him around the vast, labyrinth-like kingdom at a snail’s pace. A wider story is waiting to be explored, if you defy the King and venture away from the safety of the caves. But my Shade hasn’t yet, and I’m not certain if he will.
Mainly, the two of us putter around. In many ways I wish I were the Shade.
Don’t get me wrong, things are not really going great for him. He opines to himself often about how he will likely never even see the sun, and how prone he is to depression in his isolation. Crucially, I have a wonderful girlfriend, but his dating prospects are rather bleak (although I try not to rub it in).
Yet he copes better than I have with a glut of new free time and limited social life. One secret the game slowly reveals is that time passes ever-so-slightly faster if the Shade occupies himself effectively. Find an old copy of Moby Dick or some red clay to add to his art collection, leave him to read or paint for an hour, and come back after an absence to find one hour passed turned to two.
This is where my creepy little friend begins to irritate me. With limited social contact and endless free time (a boring, but hardly tragic fate), he can finish Melville’s classic in a single long sitting, while in real life I’m stuck on that one chapter with the long whale encyclopedia. While acquaintances of mine have been able to make the best of a simple shift in life circumstances, swapping out less time commuting to their desk job with more exercise and going out on Friday nights with learning a new language, I’ve been scrolling through Twitter, writing this essay at a middling pace, and, well, watching my virtual goblin pass the time.
I have to confess that this feels like a “one-two punch” demonstrating my mediocrity; after briefly closing the door to a typical social life, God has opened the window of more productive hobbies and intellectual pursuits. So far, I’ve whiffed the opportunity, although I am still trying. This is obviously a trivial thing to claim the right to whine over, so let’s just keep this essay a secret between you and me, okay?
Depending on your choices there are different endings to The Longing, some quite tragic. But again, you needn’t actually play the game at all. As you help the Shade pass the time, drawing sinister-looking art and squeaking notes out of a saxophone, there is no need to venture out into the rest of the abandoned kingdom, to try to grow or face new challenges. The Shade is surviving, and that’s what counts. After 400 days, the King promises to awaken and “put an end to all longing.” After such a tremendous wait, I can only hope his promise comes true.
If you’re a friend I haven’t seen for a while, I miss you and love you. I hope we can hang out soon and see the sun together.