The past month has been packed. A heavy workload, train journey after train journey travelling to the farthest reaches of the country, and to top it all off, a frightening abundance of family health crises to attend to. Nothing life threatening (thankfully), but significant enough that my precious time has been spread very thin. Keeping up with my hobby – or addiction (both words could be used interchangeably) – which normally acts as my stress relief has been challenging. It would have been impossible if not for the steam deck, Valves small but extraordinary handheld which is a technical marvel – and honestly a bit of a life saver. It allowed me to make a dent in the dreaded ‘back log’, but given the steam deck struggles with the demand of the AAA blockbuster titles, I focussed on checking off older indie titles I hadn’t quite got round to playing.

Tunic, Cocoon, and Undertale just to name a few (All of which are fantastic games and astonishing achievements for their respective developers).

I powered through a lot of these games, almost rushing to the end trying desperately to make the most of my time. That seems to have been my mentality for most of this period, try to get in what I can, when I can, without truly savouring any of the experience. So, when I started playing A Short Hike, from Adam Robinson-Yu, I really had no intention of changing that mindset. The game seemed to be what I was looking for, more of a side story rather than anything too substantial. Claire, despite the beautiful wilderness around her, is instead focussed on the lack of phone reception while waiting for an important call. Almost from the get-go I understood the game – it was clearly about disconnecting, an exploration of peoples over reliance on technology, which makes sense given the worlds rampant doom scrolling and tik tok abuse. With that assumption I fell into the same mentally as the games prior, running through the game at breakneck pace with the goal of reaching the conclusion and booting up the next.

Taking control of and guiding Claire up to Hawk Peak, the only location in the park with signal, I met an eclectic variety of characters, who largely asked for help performing menial tasks. Collect 16 shells. Get enough money to buy a golden feather from the visitors’ centre (something necessary for the traversal as it turns out). Or trying to catch the largest fish possible. All straightforward objectives that – on the surface – do not seem to narratively enrich the experience, yet, with the combination of the beautiful environment and fun traversal I started to go out of my way to complete them. Each one never felt like a chore. Instead, they were a welcome distraction.

All the small, insignificant moments were the lynch pin of the story, and what turned this game from a short hike to a meaningful adventure. Every character was so grounded, and believable – from runners preparing for a race to children collecting shells on the beach – nothing was particularly groundbreaking, but each conversation was so endearing, and the responses from Claire were equally wholesome.

Upon reaching the peak – I was met with a beautiful array of colours framing the scenery in the valleys below. The journey of brief encounters was punctuated with a surprisingly tender reveal. The phone call was from her mother. Having finally got reception at the heights of Hawk Peak, the conversation shed light on her mothers recent surgery. This urgency to reach the peak, the obsession with getting telephone reception was born out of a place of genuine concern, worry, and love. Claire’s mother hid details of the surgery from her, to keep her safe, prevent her from worrying, and allow her to live her life as someone who is growing up and starting to sprout their own wings.  The descent from the peak afforded me a quiet moment of reflection – reflection on my initial impressions of the game its narrative and its structure, reflection on the deeper meaning behind the game, and reflection on the fragility of life. How the time we waste is not coming back, and how we should treasure the moments with friends and family while we can.

When I finished the game – I called my mum.