Hope is hard in a world ravaged by ecological breakdown, especially for the young. Ten year old Iris struggles to have hope. Hers is a world of natural disasters, inexorably sliding further and further towards climate catastrophe, all while the adults in the room act as if everything is normal. The year is 2075, and all is not well.

That is, until Arco literally crashes into her life. Titular Arco is another ten-year-old, but whereas Iris is from our near future, Arco hails from a distant future where humans have relocated to gigantic cloud arcologies and mastered time travel. Even in that future though, children are not supposed to play with time until they’ve passed time-travellers exam. Impatient Arco steals his his sister’s device, only to lose control and end up in Iris’ time by accident. In the tradition of all good children’s movies, our two youngsters embark on a series of capers and adventures, supported by the friends they make along the way, to get Arco back to his own time.

Arco is a beautifully drawn animation, evoking the traditions of Studio Ghibli both in terms of style and narrative. It is a story of perseverance and hope against the odds, its generally light-hearted tone giving its emotional moments all the more impact. Like all good science fiction, it is a story not of, but for our times, reminding us that hope is a radical act.

Arco breaks with conventional time travel script by having its time traveller arrive not in the present day, but the future. In doing so it creates a double contrast: between Iris’ time and our own, and Arco’s time and Iris’. Set in the near future, Iris’ time is a plausibly familiar continuation of our own. It is the world of overshoot, of simultaneous technological progress and ecological degradation. This combination affords a precarious balance, symbolised by the protective domes that shield buildings from successive natural disasters, though Iris’ hopelessness suggests that the overall trend is downwards. Inverting the description of Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossesed, Arco might be called a ‘realistic dystopia’. This is not a world ravaged by Mad Max or 2012 style cataclysms, but a society adapted to climate change yet possibly losing that struggle in the long run. It is a more believable and hence more relatable depiction of what the future might hold for us.

For Arco though, Iris’ time is as alien as ours. Not only is he astounded that humans live on the ground and cannot communicate with birds, but much of 21st century technology is bizarre to him. Interestingly, this includes the omnipresent robots that perform so much of necessary labour in Iris’ time, suggesting that humanity at some point divested itself of AI and robotics. The evident contrast between Arco and Iris’ experiences creates a profound sense of discontinuity. Iris’ world still feels connected to our own, but Arco’s cannot be understood as a simple linear extrapolation of current trends. Through this disconnect between its two futures, Arco subtly argues that human survival through harmonious coexistence with nature will require a rupture with our present social and technological trajectory.

A second unusual aspect of Arco is the absence of direct antagonism. While Iris and Arco face multiple threats in their quest to return Arco to his time, none of these are enemies. Interpersonal conflict arises from misunderstanding or miscommunication and is therefore open to resolution through dialogue. Yet the greatest threats are impersonal, with our heroes having to face storms and wildfires. The calamitous unpredictability of the natural environment is deeply symbolic of the imbalance it has been pushed into by decades of human (in)action.

This is not to say that nature is portrayed exclusively as a threat. Interspersed between storms and wildfires are moments of tranquillity where the nature is depicted with reverent care, and our heroes traverse biomes rendered in lush, tender and exquisite detail. Even when quiescent, nature is not merely the background on which Arco plays out, but is integral to it, and shows us the complex, verdant and sometimes alien beauty we stand to lose. This is another way in which Arco is reminiscent of Studio Ghibli movies such as Spirited Away, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, or Princess Mononoke, with which it also shares its strong, young female character and its endearing, slightly dreamlike childhood logic. Our heroes face their challenges head on with a heedlessness that would make adults flinch, and while Arco ultimately remains on the safe terrain of a children’s movie, there are stakes and consequences, though they are more likely to affect the adults in the audience.

Aesthetically and narratively, Arco is riding the wave of increased interest in solarpunk, with its focus on harmony with nature and gentler, more caring technologies. Yet while the overall message is one of hope, there is an undercurrent of pessimism in Arco. It reminded me of Terra Nil, where humans have been removed from the scene altogether. Arco is not as drastic, but its solution to the degradation of the Earth’s biosphere is for humans to relocate away from the surface, implying that that actual harmony is (not yet) possible and that vacating large swathes of the Earth is the only viable option.

Regardless, Arco’s overall message is one of hope, and it is not coincidental that Arco’s restoration to his family is brought about through an act of kindness rather than ingenuity. By restoring Arco to his future, Iris regains her belief that there is a future, and that it can be better. It is that belief that, as we learn in the credits, will motivate her to make her own contributions to restore humanity to a place of balance within the web of life.

We don’t have the benefit of the future manifest to give us the hope and courage to struggle forward. But neither are we the first generation to face the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. As Antonio Gramsci famously wrote from his prison in the fascist Italy of 1929, times of adversity require us to confront them with pessimism of the intellect, but optimism of the will. Hope is the catalyst that helps us act in the absence of certainty. We can never know if our actions will bring forth the future we desire, but it is certain that if we don’t act, it will never come to pass.

Notes & suggestions

• Of course, we don’t have to look to the future to see the catastrophic impacts of climate change. For many outside the sheltered Global North, they are already here, and have been here for some time.
• Hope may be a necessary condition, but it is not sufficient, and it needs to be tethered to clear analysis and radical action. Simply ‘being hopeful at things’ is not going to be sufficient. For a critical appraisal of ‘hopepunk’ as a political project, see here.
• The use of robots is incidental in Arco, but it was nonetheless pleasant to have a movie that didn’t agonise over the ability of humans and robots to coexist with mutual respect. In that it reminded me of Pluto.
• The intractable problems of our age (ecosystem collapse, poverty, emerging fascism, racism and the legacy of colonialism, etc.) are not as easily solved alone as, surprisingly, sending a boy back to his own time. Taking action is easier together, for example through a trade union, tenants union, political party, or campaign group. If you are in work and not in a union, join or start one. See if there are local campaign or activist groups organising in your area. And if you’re not sure what to do, be like Iris: find a problem and take the initiative to solve it.
• For a starting point to engage with the solarpunk aesthetic movement, check out the Story Seed Library for copyleft artwork and story ideas.

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Nature is not treated kindly in videogames. If it is not merely a backdrop in first-person-shooters for the game to hide your adversaries in, then it tends to exist to be exploited to grow an empire or fuel a war machine. Especially in real-team strategy, ‘4X’ (eXplore, eXpand, eXploit, eXterminate) and colony builder games, nature is relegated to the role of resource pool, waste sink, or both. And while over the years some games have tried to provide a more nuanced interaction with the environment, for example through introducing renewable resources or penalties for pollution, on the whole game dynamics have not moved on much since the days of Age of Empires when a player might frequently find their entire map depleted of gold, iron and wood. Watching your average trailer for a civilisation or colony building game (it’s there in the name, really), it rapidly becomes clear that success is measured by how much of the playable map is brought under human cultivation. While in the real world we are now reminded daily that we cannot forever impose our will or demands on the web of life, videogames remain mostly wedded to the Promethean promise of full human control over the natural environment.

It is exciting therefore to see games that take a radically different approach, especially given how rare this sadly remains. One such game is Terra Nil, developed by South African studio Free Lives. The game’s name is a play on ‘terra nullius’: the concept of unclaimed land that may be legitimately occupied, which was instrumental in legitimising European colonialist ventures in the 18th and 19th century. In Terra Nil, the land is not so much unclaimed as abandoned by humans as a result of total ecosystem collapse. It is up to the player to restore these barren landscapes to fully functional ecosystems.

Terra Nil is a remarkable achievement. Combining elegant gameplay with carefully crafted aesthetics, it does not just offer an engaging gaming experience, but effects a profound conceptual shift as to who and what games are for.

The core mechanics of Terra Nil are simple. The world is divided into zones, and the player must restore each zone into a viable ecosystem. Restoration always occurs in three phases. First, any damage must be remediated and a rudimentary ecosystem put in place. Next, the player must increase the complexity of the ecosystem by introducing different biomes, such as as arboreal forest, wetland, or tundra. As ecosystem diversity increases, key species will re-establish themselves, The third phase requires the player to optimise the animals’ happiness and to recycle all infrastructure to remove any human presence.

Each zone the game offers is different, requiring different techniques and buildings to overcome hurdles and create a sufficiently diverse and harmonious ecosystem. Some zones are arctic, whereas others are tropical. Some zones are contaminated with toxic or nuclear waste, or have unstable geological features that must be managed. Each map is its own puzzle, and as the game doesn’t impose a time limit, the player can carefully contemplate their every move without ever feeling rushed. It makes for a pleasantly zen experience, and for players who want any stress removed altogether, a special ‘zen’ mode is available.

An archipelago with some toxin scrubbers and minimal grassland.

To restore nature, the player deploys a range of buildings to remove toxins, irrigate the soil, reintroduce trees, etc. Some buildings have prerequisites, such as particular types of soil, power, or humidity or temperature levels, and the player may have to go through multiple preparatory steps before the desired biome is achieved. Construction is paid for using a single currency which is earned by achieving key restoration goals. This makes each map into its own intricate yet rewarding puzzle. My favourite part for each playthrough is when animals make their first reappearance, and a mostly static map suddenly becomes vibrant and dynamic.

The same archipelago from earlier, with beaches, wetlands, kelp forests and deciduous tree cover restored, and most infrastructure recycled.

One notable feature of Terra Nil is the complete absence of humans. There are no workers constructing or operating the buildings, or transporting resources to and fro. Although the buildings themselves have minor animations, their visual design blends them in with their surroundings. This means that the ecosystem is the most dynamic visual feature, foregrounding the landscape itself. It is a brilliant inversion of traditional top-down style colony builder games where the landscape is the passive tapestry on which the player’s grandiose schemes are played out. Terra Nil takes this to its logical conclusion by requiring the player to recycle all buildings in order to complete a map. Success in Terra Nil is full rewilding and the total absence of humans.

A restored volcanic caldera from which almost all infrastructure has been removed.

It is a radical departure from other games. In Terra Nil, the victory condition is not domination. Nor is it the success or survival or achievements of some human(oid) colony. Here, victory is lichen and happy zebras. It is restoring nature for its own sake, not as a means to an end.

Given the emphasis on ecological restoration, as well as its aesthetic, I have been reflecting on whether Terra Nil is a solarpunk videogame. Solarpunk as a genre is more associated with writing, visual artwork and television than gaming, likely because creating the mechanics for a game about cooperation is more difficult than doing the same for a game about shooting things. A key theme of solarpunk is ecological restoration, and this is clearly at the heart of Terra Nil. But as per this insightful essay by Ben Harris-Roxas, solarpunk also focuses on community and harmony between nature and humanity, as well as a more small-scale, ‘DIY’ approach to technology. By forcing the player to completely vacate the map, Terra Nil on the other hand implies that such harmony is not possible, and that ecological restoration can only be achieved through a separation between nature and humanity. In that, it follows more in the footsteps of Half Earth, and its spiritual yet historical-materialist successor Half Earth Socialism. The game developers also deliberately used a more industrial aesthetic for the game’s buildings on the grounds that large-scale restoration will require large-scale infrastructure, rather than local, community-based improvisation, which is another aspect in which it follows Half Earth Socialism.

Probably this is reading too much into the game, given it is ultimately a small project. Though it remains an open question for me where in the world of Terra Nil the humans have gone. With its focus on restoration rather than exploitation, its calm and natural aesthetic, and its intricate but forgiving gameplay, Terra Nil is certainly more solarpunk than any other game I have come across, and if it doesn’t fully fit into the genre, it is at the very least in constructive dialogue with it. Small nuances notwithstanding, Terra Nil definitely has the key feature of solarpunk in providing a welcome antidote of hope and harmony to a medium that is otherwise suffused with violence and dystopia. It shows us a path not just to an alternative way of relating to nature, but also a different role for videogames. Planting virtual trees does not directly save the world, but fostering a culture that values nature for itself, and chooses harmony over domination, may well get us there in the long run.

Notes & suggestions

• Wholesome though playing games like Terra Nil may be, it will not by itself bring about the changes we need to see in the world. If you are concerned about climate change, ecosystem collapse, or maybe just environmental degradation where you live, join or support an international, national or local environmental group such as Greenpeace, Friends of the Earth, or a campaign group in your local community. You can also consider joining a green or ecosocialist political party.
• If you want to take ecosystem restoration to a planetary scale, then consider Half Earth Socialism: The Game. Though I should warn that even with socialist command-and-control powers, maintaining a liveable world is dispiritingly hard. If you are more into boardgames, then Daybreak offers a similar challenge.
• The Ecologist is a magazine squarely focused on nature, and how it interrelates with society, economics and even spirituality.

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You can use the hashtags on this page to navigate to a page that contains all posts with that hashtag.

Each review is marked either #fiction or #nonfiction

Each review lists the medium of the review’s subject: #books #films #theatre #tv #videogames

Works of fiction will have one or more genres listed: #cyberpunk #dystopia #fantasy #literature #SF #solarpunk #speculative #superheroes

Works of non-fiction, and some works of fiction, will include a topic: #culture #ecology #economics #feminism #history #politics #socialism #tech #unions

Finally, I found that some reviews share a theme, or a perspective, that is separate from the topic of the work I’m reviewing. These themes are also marked, and include:

• #boundedimagination for reviews that consider how the limitations of our political imagination express themselves in both fiction and non-fiction works.
• #protagonismos for reviews that consider where works of fiction place agency and heroism. This theme was directly inspired by two essays by Ada Palmer.

It has been a long time since a game has made me cry.

Towards one of the endings of Citizen Sleeper, there is a choice. It is not the common type of ‘moral’ videogame choice that is as subtle as being hit in the head by a careening trolley. It is not a choice about acting, but about being. About what it means to live, to connect, to relate. It does not have a right or wrong answer. It offers a beautiful gift and a profound loss either way you choose. It is a choice that makes the player think, and even now I still don’t know if I chose wisely.

Citizen Sleeper is a game set on Erlin’s Eye, a decrepit and gradually decaying orbital space station, abandoned by its corporate owners and left to fend for itself. You are a Sleeper; a copy of a human mind imprisoned in a cybernetic body. You are not human, because you are an artificial creation. You are not AI, because your mind is a human intelligence. Where you come from, you were property. Where you’ve arrived, you are a fugitive.

Arriving at the Eye you have no money, no home, and no community. Your legal status is precarious at best. And on top of that, your previous owners built two fail-safes into you: a tracker, and a chronic dependency on medication called ‘stabiliser’ to keep your body from falling apart. By any means you need to find a way to rid yourself of the former, and obtain the latter, to stay alive.

The gameplay loop of Citizen Sleeper is elegant yet brutal: Each ‘cycle’ you start with up to five rolled dice you need to spend to perform actions. Higher rolls grant a greater chance of success or a bonus outcome. Lower rolls a greater chance of failure, and possibly damage. If your condition degrades, your number of available dice goes down.

Five dice, and so much to do. You need to ditch your tracker. You need food, medicine, shelter, and work. You need to understand this new place you don’t even dare call ‘home’. Especially in the early part of the game, all you can do is survive, and a bad roll at the start of your cycle can set you back immensely, hammering home the precarity of your situation.

As you find your footing, you become capable of small acts of kindness. These start as ways of getting something you want: stabilizer, food, a friendly conversation. Often the game rewards you for ‘completing’ a quest, but not always, and even where you do pursue a storyline, it isn’t at all clear that the investment in terms of dice and time spent was worth the return in terms of pure resources. The real prize is the relationships you forge: helping a bartender build a still, swapping stories with a streetfood vendor, being taught by a robot how to love.

All residents you encounter on the Eye have a richness you rarely experience in a video game, despite only being represented by dialogue text and a single image. Citizen Sleeper manages to say a lot even when it doesn’t talk much, and each conversation sublimely conveys how the people you meet have their own lives, worries, hopes and motivations. They are not NPC #6768, existing only for the player’s satisfaction. There is a true and distinct authorial style to Citizen Sleeper, which tends to be lacking from large studio productions, quite possibly because it is one person’s labour of love.

Ultimately, Citizen Sleeper is about community and connection. The game doesn’t really have an end, nor are you intended to ‘win’ it in the usual sense of the word. Of course it is also an anti-capitalist critique, and its dystopian cyberpunk aesthetic is now fairly familiar. But the real power lies in its contention that we are not defined by who we are, but by the relationships we form, and the communities we become a part of. Citizen Sleeper contends that even in the ruins of late stage interstellar capitalism, people will still be kind to one another. That communities will form and flourish. That solidarity and comradeship is possible, even in the face of countervailing systemic forces.

If I had one critique to make of the game, it is that the Sleeper’s actions remain confined to the level of direct interpersonal interactions. There is never a sense that the cumulative impact of your actions shifts the background environment on the Eye, if even by a little. Mutual aid and solidarity are prevalent, but collective action is absent. I imagine, however, that it would be a difficult mechanic for a game to express.

That is a very minor gripe though, and does not detract from Citizen Sleeper’s powerful reflections on friendship, community, and the power we have to shape the world around us. Play this game, then log off, and see if you can take its sense of wonder into the real world.

Wake up, Sleeper.

Notes & Suggestions

• Readers who enjoy the setting and/or a non-human main character might like the Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, and the Wayfarer series by Becky Chambers.
• Kay & Skittles have an in-depth review on their Youtube Channel which is worth your time.
• The game’s sole developer explained both his design philosophy and the political message in Citizen Sleeper at a BAFTA panel.

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A long time ago, I had a blog of political polemics. Then life happened and I stopped writing.

Yet the desire to write never went away, and so this blog was born. Of polemics we already have a sufficiency, however. One only has to read a news site. Instead, I am trying my hand at reflections on the cultural artefacts I ‘consume’: books, games, movies, and so forth.

The name of this blog expresses my capacity as an ordinary consumer, and hence merely a ‘casual’ critic. I cannot boast of a degree in art history, cultural studies or English (or any other) language. Nor am I a paid reviewer. I do believe though that most authors create an artefact because they want their audience to actively engage with it, rather than merely consume it passively. Writing reviews is my way of entering into dialogue with a text, as well as an opportunity to be creatively active myself. If people enjoy reading the end product, then so much the better.

About the blog

The function of this blog strongly informed its form. I ended up on Write.as because of the minimalist aesthetic and the deliberate absence of social media plug-ins, Fediverse integrations excepted. There is no SEO, and no trackers. It does mean that the blog lacks some features that readers will have come to expect, most notably the ability to comment and a navigation menu or archive.

To help find your way around, Write.as uses hashtags. Clicking a hashtag will generate a page listing all the posts with the same hashtag. I do my best to label all reviews, and my most common hashtags are at the end of this page.

Posts will be cross-posted to my Mastodon feed, so feel free to leave a comment there. Any feedback or response is much appreciated. You can also subscribe to receive future blogs via email using the ‘Subscribe’ button at the bottom of the homepage, or by adding this blog to an RSS feed.

How to navigate

Every post has one or more tags (‘#’) associated with it to help categorise it. Instead of using menus, you can click on a tag to retrieve all posts with the same tag. You can do this from within any blog post, or you can use the list below.

Mediums #books #films #theatre #tv #videogames

Type #fiction #nonfiction

Fiction genres #fantasy #literature #SF #speculative #cyberpunk #solarpunk #superheroes

Non-fiction categories #history #politics #tech #culture #unions #socialism