Pine: A Story of Loss review

• Reviews by Brian Hobbs
• Published:

Would that this short but beautiful, poignant tale of grief be given more room to take root and grow

It was during a long winter night following a tragic loss that professional illustrator Tom Booth first sketched what would eventually become the main character in Pine: A Story of Loss. Initially reluctant to share the woodcutter illustration with his social media followers due to its extremely personal nature, his post of the image in early 2019 was so thoroughly embraced by his friends and fans that it prompted messages of thanks as stories of grief and longing were shared among those with whom the artwork resonated. When it began to spread on the internet beyond the boundaries of his usual audience, it was clear to Booth that the woodcutter’s story was something that should be further developed and explored, and he felt an interactive medium would best suit this aim. After a successful Kickstarter campaign that well exceeded the amount of the initial goal, it would seem others felt the same. And so Pine, which the campaign described as “not quite a video game,” was conceived.

It’s always encouraging to see when art born out of suffering is used to touch the lives of others. Nonetheless, there are plenty of challenges when translating a piece of art from one medium to another, especially from a single illustration to a full game, and not everything can survive the transition intact. In the case of Pine, it’s probably no surprise that the visual design is its strongest asset and likely the biggest draw, with nearly every scene serving as an eye-catching, melancholy composition of painterly woodlands and expressive characters. But is it a good game? That will largely depend on the experiences you bring to it and how much “game” you expect to find.

Pine tells the story of a woodcutter living alone in a simple, secluded stone cottage in a remote field surrounded by tall pine trees. In grief over the recent death of his wife, he lives his days in a monotonous, lonely routine, struggling to cope with his loss as he cuts timber, tends to his garden, and performs other daily chores. From time to time, even these simple tasks spark an old memory of his wife, and an acute wave of sadness envelops him, compelling him to carve out an image of his lost love into a piece of wood, serving as a memorial to his former happiness. If all of that sounds rather bleak, I’ll point out that it’s not called A Story of Loss for nothing.

The game takes place over the course of four seasons, spring through winter, and each one presents a set of everyday tasks that will, at some point, trigger different memories. In gameplay terms, this falls closer to a visual novel than a full-fledged adventure. You’re not in direct control of the woodcutter, but instead participate in his routine by performing simple click-and-drag gestures to pump water, cut grass, and otherwise go about your chores. The only real choice you have is which order to perform these tasks, but it doesn’t seem to have any particular consequence one way or another. The figures you carve after each memory are an artistic highlight, allowing you to turn and carve away at the wood in a meditative, challenge-free way as the statuettes slowly take shape. But after the fourth or fifth one of these sequences, even that begins to feel a bit monotonous.

Pine: A Story of Loss

Genre:	Drama
Presentation:	2D or 2.5D
Theme:	Psychological
Perspective:	Third-Person
Graphic Style:	Stylized
Game Length:	Short (1-5 hours)
Difficulty:	Low
Gameplay:	Minigames

The fact that these repetitive tasks are dreary and mundane seems to be part of the point, inviting the player to empathize with a man who has experienced the light going out of his life. I imagine if you’ve gone through significant grief yourself, Pine may be well suited to identify with, allowing you to bring in your own struggles and work through them alongside the woodcutter. But if you haven’t, I’m not sure enough is done to draw you into that space. You never really learn much more about the woodcutter than I’ve already described, and even the scenes of the memories with his wife, while certainly livelier and more vibrant than the current-day ones, paint her with only the broadest of strokes, never particularizing her character, as if she’s simply meant to be a stand-in for all lost loves everywhere.

That said, even with the slow pacing and minimal storytelling, the visuals and sound go a long way in creating a contemplative atmosphere. The beauty of the landscape stands in contrast to the hopelessness of the protagonist and allows a calming and potentially healing place for the player to reflect on their own thoughts. While I may not have brought that much introspection into the experience, I did find myself settling into the peace and quiet as a nice balm at the end of a work day, enjoying the composition of each scene, where any given screenshot could serve as a beautiful illustration in a picture book.

The backgrounds have a painterly softness to them, while the two characters are rendered in a flat but expressive style. The hand-drawn animation is simple, but somehow manages to capture wordlessly the deep emotions of the woodcutter even as he performs basic tasks. While there is no dialogue, the natural sounds and acoustic ambient music provide a subtle but rich undercurrent to each scene. Despite the painful themes, it’s a rather soothing place to inhabit.

The flashbacks are predictably lighter in tone, and not only in the comparative happiness of the woodsman. The music is brighter and more upbeat and the gameplay is, well, more playful. In fact, a couple of these segments could even be called puzzles, as you help your wife plant a garden by fitting plants into a raised soil bed that is questionably placed among large rocks, or try to mimic her singing by playing notes on a set of wooden wind chimes. There are a handful of other gameplay types that involve just a smidgeon of reflexes, and while none of this is difficult, the variety is welcome and contrasts starkly to the woodcutter’s life after heartbreak. Although I often looked forward to these changes of pace, I still wished they had been more revelatory, giving further insight into the relationship. But after the first one or two, you’re effectively just being shown variations on the same types of interactions, so I felt my interest waning even in these—at least until things actually started to change towards the end.

The developers describe the game as “designed to be played in a single sitting” (I played it in two, but don’t tell anyone). With only about 90 minutes of playtime, you’re not left to wallow in grief for too long. Towards the latter half of fall and into winter, you learn a little more about the events that led up to the woodcutter’s wife’s death, and it’s the first time you start to see a shift in his character. The gameplay starts to change as well, drawing you back in if you were starting to nod off. While I won’t spoil the specifics, it’s probably not that surprising to say that the protagonist does ultimately start to come to terms with his loss and move towards hope and healing. However, there was something about exactly how he does that which felt a little unsatisfying to me. I’m no grief counselor, but the ending didn’t give me the sense of healthy catharsis I was hoping for, instead leaving me with a lingering sense of depression hidden amongst the attempt at new growth.

Final Verdict

Pine: A Story of Loss is one of those games that seems designed for a fairly narrow audience. Dealing with heavy themes of grief and loss, it will leave its mark most with those who are ready to patiently reflect on these topics, bringing in their own memories and experiences to mingle and meld with the otherwise somewhat indistinct characters and slow-paced story. Those looking for depth of gameplay, a world to explore, or, you know, not feeling sad, should probably make like the woodcutter and move on. But those who choose to engage with it will be rewarded with gorgeous illustrations and a meditative experience that, while only lightly interactive, may serve to guide them into connecting with their own grief or empathizing with others who have lost someone. There’s a certain monotony to it, and one could wish for more strength in the ending, but it’s a brief enough journey that if you’re interested in exploring its themes, or simply want to bask in some beautiful, quiet melancholy, Pine is worth carving out some time for.

Brian played Pine: A Story of Loss on PC using a review code provided by the game's publisher.