Nothing makes me feel more powerless in this world than the existential threats facing our climate. No matter how many paper straws I use, global warming is not a problem I have virtually any power to stop. So long as mega corporations keep pumping pollution into the atmosphere, all I can do is sit on the sidelines and try to fight back against approaching riptides.
It’s with that incurable despair that I appreciate environmental art that’s as optimistic as Naiad. The new minimalist adventure game by a single developer, which surprise-launched today during Wholesome Games’ cozy gaming stream, chronicles the story of a water creature who is sworn to protect a river. Over a few hours, players embark on a downstream journey that highlights the beauty of nature and the human recklessness that threatens it. But rather than wallowing in dread, Naiad offers hope that the seemingly hopeless work we do today could make an impact long after we’re gone.
The early chapters of Naiad are instantly captivating. When it begins, the camera looks straight down on a vibrant river scene. The world is a mix of bright colors, almost looking like it was crafted out of paper mache. Before I even start to control my tiny water spirit, I take a moment to soak it all in. I let the hypnotic music flow through me and listen to the sound of distant bugs and birds creating a dense natural landscape. It feels like lying on your back in the woods and experiencing the world in silence.
Once I do take control of the titular Naiad, I quickly get a sense for the adventure’s mechanically light exploration hook. In each chapter, I simply float down the river, which snakes around like a small maze. If I want to rush from point A to point B, I can blow through chapters in no time. But Naiad is built to be taken in slowly. The more I poke around, the more I discover that I can interact with local flora and fauna in small ways. If I sing, I can grow plants on the river bank. Sometimes I find a lost duckling and guide it back to its mother or lead a frog to its lily pad. These actions don’t always have clear rewards, aside from unlocking an occasional poem snippet in each chapter. Instead, I’m encouraged to complete these optional tasks as an altruistic act.
The deeper the adventure gets, the more the importance of that selflessness reveals itself. There’s a turning point in the wordless story where I start to see signs of civilization on the riverbank. It starts when I scare off some lumberjacks cutting down a forest, but it escalates. Soon the river fills up with trash and sludge as I get closer to cities. It doesn’t just make the image uglier; it’s harder to swim through it. The fluid movement falls apart as I muck through grotesque water. The deeper the story goes, the more frustrating the world becomes. Saving it becomes imperative, not just to the story’s quiet stakes but to the act of actually enjoying it too.
Not all of Naiad’s frustrations are narratively functional. As is the case with a lot of minimalist games like this, or the recent Neva, I often find myself unclear on what I actually need to do to progress in certain chapters. Environmental interactions become increasingly obtuse and I’m left swimming in circles hoping to accidentally stumble on the answer. Even for a short game, Naiad overstays its concise concept with a drawn out, overwrought ending that becomes too wrapped up in itself.
Even with some eye-rolling melodrama, Naiad’s hope for the future still resonates. Its endpoint isn’t so much about saving the world so much as it is continuing the fight. That’s a difficult concept to grasp. When fighting for change, it’s too easy to fall into despair and believe that the world ends when you stop fighting. It’s harder to come to terms with the fact that the work we do now will be inherited by the generations below us who will pick up the torch so long as we leave it for them. The battle to protect our world is an endurance test, a cyclical loop of life and death that will carry on long after we’re gone. One person can not solve the world’s problems in a lifetime, but they can make sure that work doesn’t dry out in the scorching sun. Maybe the most we can hope to do is to become the rain cloud that offers temporary relief until the next one.
Naiad is out now on PlayStation, Xbox, Nintendo Switch, and PC.