WHERETHEWATERTASTES LIKE WINE
DEVELOPERNOMADO STUDIO•$30
http://www.wherethewatertasteslikewine.com/QI’m going to tell you my story, because I
know it won’t spoil yours. There’s a lot to
explore, in Where the Water Tastes Like Wine,
in your own way, at your own pace. The
beginning will be the same, though; a game
of cards, a promise. We’re crossing America,
collecting stories, sharing them, listening to
them evolve each time they’re told by someone
we told them to. I headed south, surprised by
how slow my old bones were walking. I tried
‘shift’, to sprint, and started whistling instead.
Matching notes, keeping my spirits up, made
walking faster.
I met a scared boy who had run away from
his father, and witnessed a storm created by a
bird, at least that’s how I recall it now. As the sky
grew dark, I approached a lighthouse and spent
the evening with lovers who craved a quiet life.
I hitchhiked, on subsequent days, to wherever
the driver who would take me was going, and
found myself humming along to the soundtrack;
blues/country lyrics sung by live musicians.
Things are pretty slow, and they need to be,
because each vignette you encounter feels more
special as a result of waiting for it.
Cities provided respite, sometimes work,
or an expensive train ride to somewhere else
(stealing away in a boxcar can be dangerous.) I
worked in a cold meat locker in Boston, which
was good for my wallet, bad for my health.
I stayed up all night, under the stars, with
other wanderers, those who were on their way
somewhere, and those who had nowhere else to
be. I told a war veteran about the couple in the
lighthouse. Soon enough, people on the road
were telling a version of that story back to me.
Where the Water Tastes Like Wine is full
of life. These are people touched, in so many
ways, by the Great Depression. I met a man
on Miami beach who had lost his job. As
he was telling me his story, I realised that I
would go on to share it with others either as
a tale of optimism, or despair, based on howthe conversation unfolded, and as indicated
by tarot icons tied to my dialogue choices.
Everyone dealt with their circumstances
differently. Some were bitter, others were
hopeful, hedonistic, scared, philosophical or
any other thing.
I also found myself trailing Dupree, written
by Cara Ellison (because each main character is
written by a different writer). After witnessing
a seance, somewhere in the deep south, I
checked my map, just to see where she was
headed next, desperate to impress her with
this tale, figuring she’d love it. I most enjoyed
getting to know the sixteen other wanderers
through sharing the stories I’d collected.
I do apologise that this page on Where the
Water Tastes Like Wine is nearly a year late.
I didn’t know the game existed. In fact, I first
came across it via a postmortem which outlined
some of the ways the designer felt it had both
succeeded and failed, then didn’t play it until I
received a key. I loved it. If you enjoy games like
Fallen London, and you’re motivated by reading
little passages of beautifully written words, this
may be the narrative experiment you’ve been
waiting for. I just wanted to hear what kind of
tall tale people would spin about the lovers in
the lighthouse next.We’re crossing
America, collecting
stories, sharing them,
listening to them evolve
each time they’re told
by someone we told
them to.
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