Three and Out – ‘FAR: Lone Sails’

It is Ben’s recommendation that you listen to Joel Schoch’s score of FAR: Lone Sails while you read the review.

FAR: Lone Sails is about triumph in the face of loneliness. Operating a large heap of a locomotive, I spent my time between hail storms and long uphill climbs feeling prideful. The game operates on a simple principle: operate your vehicle and move forward. There is no conveyed goal and no flag pole at the end of the road. The game asked me to drive forward, even when it wasn’t clear why I should. My only rewards were the clear, starry night skies that painted the backdrop on a desolate world and another opportunity to overcome the road ahead. Using its satisfying and simplistic micromanagement mechanics to satiate the journey, FAR: Lone Sails is the year’s best example of minimalistic ingenuity.

The primary mechanic in FAR is to keep your locomotive moving forward. On the right side of the vehicle, a distance meter ticks upward with each passing moment. It serves as the game’s only reminder that progress is being made, as it otherwise keeps it a secret (up to the very end) as to what is happening. There is mystique in the world’s emptiness. What happened to make this place so devoid of life? The game’s protagonist wears a small coat, keeps a reading lamp above her bed, and idealizes a picture of a man with a mustache. Specific attention to detail in her animation suggests that she is willing to use every ounce of her small, childish stature to get someplace. It became important to me that, whatever she wanted to find, I wanted to as well. The near pastel art design feels right in tune with the rest of FAR’s insistence upon minimalism, but I couldn’t help but feel like I wanted more of that acute detail that was poured into the rest of the game. FAR looks gorgeous, so it’s a shame there isn’t more to look at.

The most satisfying moments in FAR are when I got the locomotive kicked into high gear and the normally restrained score began to hum alongside it. The game uses a simple timing mechanic with a handful of buttons: one to start your engine, another to ignite the steam engine, a wired trap to create energy via loose objects found on the ground, and two hoses that dispel any fires or any electrical malfunctions that should take place. Micromanaging these tools is the game at its most complicated, but strong sound design helps keep things satisfying. FAR uses a handful of small puzzles to set the tone for a change in scenery, and while the puzzles are far from difficult, it forced me to take in my surroundings and question everything all over again. By the time I reached the end of FAR, I recalled a sentiment I don’t feel near often enough: there is a distinct pleasure in persevering through tribulation, even when the answer as to why I’m doing so is not entirely clear. In FAR: Lone Sails, the reward is in the triumph.

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