Drowning

Drowning is a first-person meditative simulation game developed by Polygonal Wolf that explores themes of depression and mental health. The player navigates a somber, atmospheric environment, progressing primarily by holding down a forward button and occasionally turning. The game is presented as a personal, therapeutic project by its creator, intended to convey a genuine and emotional narrative about the struggles with suicidal thoughts without glorifying them, drawing comparisons to the themes found in Netflix’s ‘Thirteen Reasons Why’.

Drowning: A Deep Dive into a Personal, Flawed Meditation on Mental Health

In the vast ocean of the indie game scene, where personal expression often collides with the limitations of budget and scope, few titles are as aptly named—and as divisive—as Drowning. Released in 2018 by one-person studio Polygonal Wolf and published by Sometimes You, this first-person walking simulator is less a traditional game and more an interactive, autobiographical confessional. It is a raw, unvarnished exploration of clinical depression that aims to build empathy through its very mechanics. Its legacy is not one of commercial success or critical acclaim, but of a developer’s courageous, if flawed, attempt to channel profound personal pain into a digital format. This review will argue that while Drowning fails as a compelling piece of interactive entertainment, it succeeds as a poignant, deeply personal artifact that represents a significant, if small, step in video games’ ongoing struggle to maturely represent mental health.

Development History & Context

Developed solely by Polygonal Wolf, Drowning is a product of the late 2010s indie game boom, a period defined by the democratization of game development tools like Unity. This accessibility allowed for highly personal, niche projects to find a platform, often through publishers like Sometimes You that specialize in curating and releasing such experimental titles.

The creator’s vision was not to craft a blockbuster but to create a therapeutic outlet. As noted in reviews from WayTooManyGames and Defunct Games, the game is a direct reflection of the developer’s own experiences with depression, beginning in his high school years. This autobiographical foundation is the game’s entire raison d’être. The development was likely a solitary, cathartic process, a digital diary entry made public.

Technologically, the game is a product of its constraints. Built in Unity, it employs a simplistic low-poly aesthetic not as a stylistic choice akin to Monument Valley or Hyper Light Drifter, but seemingly as a necessity of a one-person team with limited resources. Released on a staggering number of platforms for such a small game—including Windows, Mac, Linux, PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, PS Vita, and Nintendo Switch—its wide availability stands in stark contrast to its extremely narrow scope. In a gaming landscape increasingly dominated by live-service titans and narrative epics, Drowning is a quiet, somber counterpoint, representing the rawest form of indie development: a single voice trying to be heard above the noise.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

Drowning places you in the first-person perspective of a young boy starting the seventh grade. The narrative is not conveyed through voice acting or cutscenes, but through lines of text that appear directly in the game world as you walk. The story is an internal monologue, a conversation between the boy and the personification of his own depression—an “inner demon” or a “friend” that is constantly trying to pull him under.

The plot is a chronological journey through his teenage years, detailing how this “friend” insidiously infiltrates every aspect of his life: his friendships, his family dynamics, his academic performance, and his basic self-care. The themes are unflinching: isolation, self-loathing, the exhausting daily battle against a negative internal voice, and the search for any form of relief.

Critics were divided on the narrative’s effectiveness. Garage Band Gamers praised its genuineness, stating it “puts thoughts of depression and suicide in the forefront, never glorifying it.” Defunct Games’ Cyril Lachel agreed, noting that “the inner thoughts ring true and the emotions feel authentic.” However, this raw authenticity is double-edged. Digitally Downloaded pointed out that the narrative is “poorly planned, poorly placed, and in some parts, questionably written.” The writing is plagued by frequent typos and grammatical errors, which, as noted by WayTooManyGames, can shatter immersion and undermine the serious subject matter at the worst possible moments.

The game features multiple endings, achieved by choosing different paths at certain junctions. These endings represent different potential outcomes of living with depression, from finding a measure of peace to succumbing to darker thoughts. However, critics like Bkstunt_31 on GameFAQs found these endings “predictable” and felt the branching paths were an underdeveloped mechanic that added little to the core experience. The narrative’s power is entirely dependent on the player’s ability to connect with this specific, personal story; for those who cannot, it falls flat, coming across as an unedited blog post rather than a crafted narrative.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

To call Drowning‘s gameplay “minimalist” would be a profound understatement. It represents the most stripped-down form of the walking simulator genre. The core loop is simple: hold forward on the control stick to amble at a notoriously slow pace down a linear path while text scrolls in front of you. There is no running, no jumping, no interaction with the environment beyond following the prescribed route. There are a handful of “hidden items” to find, but as Bkstunt_31 noted, these seem to exist solely to pad out trophy lists rather than add meaningful gameplay.

The most common and damning criticism across all reviews is the oppressive slowness of the movement. Combined with a reported unstable framerate on certain platforms like the PS Vita, the act of playing can feel like a tedious chore, a bizarre contradiction for a game aiming to convey the weight of depression. Leo Faria of WayTooManyGames summarized it best: “The entire gameplay is comprised of one gigantic stroll through the woods… This barely qualifies as a video game due to how little interaction is present.”

The UI is equally barebones, with critics like Cyril Lachel reporting technical issues such as a persistent mouse cursor on the PC version. There is no character progression, no puzzles, no systems to master. The “gameplay” is purely a vehicle for the narrative, and for many, it’s a broken-down vehicle that makes the journey unnecessarily arduous. The intended meditative pacing instead translates as mechanical failure, highlighting the fundamental challenge of translating such a passive, internal state into an engaging interactive experience.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Drowning‘s world is a series of low-poly, natural environments: forests, caves, lakesides, and waterfalls. The aesthetic is simple and bright, often at odds with the dark text it frames. Defunct Games criticized this dissonance, noting that “We’re often reading dark and gloomy thoughts while walking through a bright and sunny forest, which felt like a mismatch.” It’s only in the final stages that the visuals darken to match the narrative tone, a missed opportunity to more deeply synchronize the atmosphere with the story’s emotional arc.

Technically, the presentation was widely panned. WayTooManyGames described the Vita version as “one of the most visually barebones games I’ve seen in years,” citing frequent pop-in, a complete lack of lighting or shadow effects, and a poor framerate. The low-poly style feels less like an artistic choice and more like a limitation, resulting in environments that are pleasant but utterly forgettable and lacking in detail.

The one universally praised aspect of the experience is the sound design. The soundtrack, composed by Marma, Platypus Control, and others, is a collection of calm, soothing piano ballads. Reviewers from Defunct Games to WayTooManyGames highlighted the music as a high point, a “lovely soundtrack” that effectively complements the intended mood. The ambient sounds of birds chirping and water falling are also well implemented. It’s a tragic irony that the game’s most successful element is its audio, a passive component, while its interactive elements fail so consistently.

Reception & Legacy

Drowning was met with a lukewarm-to-negative critical reception. Its MobyScore sits at a poor 5.8/10, based on an average critic score of 49% from five reviews. Reviews ranged from a high of 80% from Garage Band Gamers, who championed its message, to lows of 20% from TechRaptor, which found its narrative baffling and ineffective. Player reviews averaged an even lower 2.3/5.

The criticism was remarkably consistent: reviewers universally respected the developer’s intent and the bravery in tackling such a personal subject, but almost all agreed it failed as a game. The consensus, echoed by LifeisXbox and others, was that its powerful message would have been better served as a short film or a written essay, as the interactive medium added nothing but friction.

Its legacy is nuanced. Commercially, it is a footnote. However, in the broader context of games dealing with mental health, Drowning is a significant artifact. It represents a raw, unfiltered approach to the topic, devoid of the metaphor and abstraction used by games like Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice or Celeste. It is a blunt instrument. It did not pave the way for a new genre of therapeutic games, but it stands as an example of the medium’s potential for pure, uncommercialized self-expression. Its influence is not seen in subsequent blockbusters but felt in the continued existence of the ultra-niche “personal experience” game, encouraging other developers to share their stories, no matter how imperfect the final product might be.

Conclusion

Drowning is a difficult game to review. Judged by the standard metrics of gameplay, technical execution, and narrative craft, it is a failure. It is slow, buggy, visually underwhelming, and riddled with amateurish errors. As a piece of interactive entertainment, it is hard to recommend.

Yet, to dismiss it entirely would be to overlook its heart. Drowning is a digital cry for help and a gesture of solidarity. It is a developer using the tools at his disposal to scream, “This is what it feels like.” For a certain player—perhaps someone who has shared these exact experiences—its impact could be profound. For them, the clumsy gameplay might fade away, leaving only the resonant, painful truth of the text.

In the annals of video game history, Drowning will not be remembered as a great game, or even a particularly good one. Its place is secured as a brave, flawed, and heartbreakingly sincere experiment. It is a testament to the idea that games can be more than fun; they can be a mirror reflecting the darkest parts of ourselves, however cracked that mirror may be. It is not a game you play for enjoyment, but an experience you endure for understanding.