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Untitled Goose Game: A reflection

By Frankie Hart, October 10 2019 —

On Sept. 20, 2019, an event transpired that would change my life forever — the release of Untitled Goose Game. With its sleek, minimal design, wiggly controls and bastardous gameplay, how could I resist?

In order to download this game, I first had to pay $15. At first, I thought to myself, “Am I really going to spend a whole $15 to role-play a misbehaving goose?” Then, I noticed that the $15 price tag was actually a sale price, and that the normal price was $20.

So I bought it.

Next, I was prompted to install an application called “Epic Games Launcher.” Had I not already paid $15, this may have been the point where I would have decided that my dignity was important to me. But, again, I paid $15.

So I installed it.

The application icon largely boasts the name “Epic Games,” the word “epic” taking quite a large amount of space on the icon. This bothers me, but is a small detail to dismiss when in pursuit of the goose life. It is a bit harder to ignore the app notifications that I keep forgetting to turn off, but oh well. That’s a problem for another time.

So I launched it.

The life of the unnamed goose is a simple one, yet it offers something so essential to all players of this game — freedom. When you find yourself bound in commitments, responsibilities, relationships, leases, rent payments, bills, readings, work, chores, not to mention restrictions imposed systemically in our society, who wouldn’t want to trade all of that to be a pesky goose? As I controlled my legs to run free with my new, webbed feet, honking as I pleased, I was finally free. I swam, splashed, frolicked and flapped in this digital haven. I did so with tears streaming down my eyes. Is it ever enough to only get a taste? I didn’t just want to frolic and flap. I wanted to fly.

I explain all of this because I need you, dear reader, to understand my plight. I implore that if you happen to find a stash of bells, say, partially buried near a construction site, that you simply leave them alone. Heed this warning, lest you find yourself at the mercy — or lack thereof — of my metaphorical beak. If you threaten my liberty, there will be hell to pay, via methodically-calculated honk.

Before I first played Untitled Goose Game, I was enticed to play it from a meme I saw. It was some gameplay screenshots, combined with a Yahoo! Answers question, reading “Are you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shitt” (sic). And you know what? I am. I do. So I shall.

This article is part of our humour section.



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