By Joe Rojas November 27, 2022
~slight spoilers for Stray (no story beats are revealed) ~
The end of the year is fast-approaching and as I think back on the games I played in 2022, few as they may be, Stray sticks with me as one of the most memorable.
After completing this game, I gazed into the eyes of my IRL cat, Chloe, and was both bummed and proud. I was bummed because Chloe is not as controllable as the tabby avatar in the game and I was proud because Chloe is the best and I love her and she's a very good kitty
Chloe - my cat
"Mew, Mew"
I spammed that meow button almost non-stop and if Chloe was present, I would look at her after each press. Did she react and look quizically at the screen and maybe do that cute thing cats do and tilt her head? Kind of - and only when my wife picked her up and held her close to the TV. I wanted her to chirp and swat at the screen like all the Youtube videos suggested cats do when their owners would play this game, but alas, she lost interest in that laissez-faire way cats do.
Here's the thing - Chloe doesn't understand that she and I would make a great team - I could be her B-12, similar to the floating pocket-size robot in Stray that ultimately serves as the puppet master to your kitty. All Chloe needs to do is listen with love and understanding. It turns out cats aren't great at listening.
Image: Annapurna Interactive
To put it simply, Stray falls short of being a cat owner sim. And that, folks, is my misunderstanding to own. I went into Stray thinking the game would be analogous to me being a cat owner to a beautiful, annoying, stubborn cat. It is not. Stray is a game where you navigate a post-human world as a cat, and you slowly discover the effect and influence humans continue to have on the lifeforms still present. The exploration and light puzzle solving isn't re-casting the mold. The game looks great, but it's not graphics-defining in any way.
But you're a cat!
You're a cat that can scratch at couches and rugs whenever they're around. You're a cat that doesn't like wearing a harness at first but eventually gets used to it. You're a cat that can remorselessly push a paint can or glass of water off a shelf. All of that makes Stray the co-op game I played with my cat, even though her interest was nearly nonexistent and she was often sleeping.
Image: Annapurna Interactive
When I first started, the controls felt a little like molasses. Why couldn't I turn or change direction on a dime? I wanted the freedom to try and jump wherever I wanted, but the game wouldn't let me. I eventually came around to appreciating the limits it presented. No cat would try and jump into a void or towards a location that it didn't believe it could safely land. I learned to massage the movement - I focused my propensity to anthropomorphize animals into a suitable control philosophy with this game.
In doing all of these things, Stray stood out. Though it easily could have, Stray doesn't let you move around as a human would. It firmly plants you in the paws of a feline. You're sleek and serpentine, you're distracted and purposeful, and curiosity was often the key to progressing. And yet, much like the cat avatar, it was impossible for me to ignore the story the physical setting was painting for me.
Without giving too much away, you're asked to engage with a world affected by global warming, disease, and ecological disaster; cities and neighborhoods aren't what they used to be and communication with one another will never be the same. The fiction I choose to enjoy is rife with nature taking back its environment - ivy growing up skyscrapers, wildlife running through a Timesquare wasteland - but the terror Stray's setting presents the player seems dangerously possible. And while Stray also dips a pinky into cosmic horror, the real fear snowballs in my brain with one question looming larger and larger.
What kind of Earth will we leave behind for those we love..., including our pets?
Image: Annapurna Interactive
Chloe - my cat
Chloe - my cat
Press Circle to Meow
Those with whom you interact in Stray aren't necessarily suffering from the same universal entropy-induced panic I suffer from - they've moved on and have learned to live in a world with far more limitations than our own. They've learned to live in a world where the folklore they share around the fire is made up of the interactions and experiences we have today, translated and diluted over the centuries. They've learned to live in a world where, no matter the weight of despair, hope is still a tangible current throughout culture - driving them to exist.
And cats are there.
Play Stray - it's a great game.