I spent an entire real-life hour trying to reach the top of a boulder, repeatedly positioning and clenching and adjusting and stepping and grunting and hoping… and then falling. And falling. And falling. To an onlooker, this experience must have appeared a veritable deluge of the same be-onesied body, limp and hapless, sprawled and slippery, slick with mud and (probably) a little piss. To me, though, it conjured a poignant question, swirling about amidst the ephemera of my troubled mind: am I just a stubborn asshole?
My goal was to trek, by foot, to the top of a mountain. My goal was to reach the castle. My goal was to wish to “the angel” to whisk me away back home, away from this hellish Ouroboros absolutely riddled with fantasy detritus, to see me placed safely upon the sofa in my parents’ basement where I could marathon One Piece in peace, punctuating episodes with bong hits, and live the rest of my life slowly dissolving into the cushions under the sheer weight of yet another pizza delivery. However, despite the clarion call, I found myself once against distracted by my arch nemesis.
Peaches.
Like any well-adjusted individual, there are few things I despise more than a pyramid of tinned peaches perched precariously atop a boulder. A cursed cairn of cans callously conjuring mockery. A gleaming tribute to man’s hubris wrought of aluminum. The contents contained within, sloshing in a cloying, congealed slurry of spite. No one thing on Earth more deserving of ire. No single creation more clearly begging to be toppled, violently, with the swift flick of a foot.
Baby Steps is a remarkably unique video game that presents you with the crucial task of kicking over said cans, and also, I guess, walking. A lot. “But, Keenan,” you say. “Many games are about walking. Many games are about kicking.” Aye, but how many games are also about bullying compote? How many games are also metaphors for the nearly-universal experience of leaving home feeling wholly unprepared for the reality of a life where you are now responsible for your decisions, flailing about with no instruction manual or really any helpful guidance about how best to navigate a scary, ever-changing world that oftentimes feels as thought it makes, like, zero fucking sense?
The grand conceit of Baby Steps—a game whose marketing gleefully describes it as “a literal walking simulator”—is that you, the player, are in charge of controlling the individual legs of Nate, an oafish interloper thrust into a bizarre and unfamiliar world far away from the comfort of his couch. Barefoot, disheveled, and clad only in a dubiously-laundered onesie, Nate is quickly introduced to gravity by way of a brief tutorial, and as a result, you are finally blessed by the latent potential of analog buttons that Sony first promised 25 years ago with the advent of the Dual Shock 2 controller. While we all waited with bated breath for a game that truly leveraged the technology by allowing us to gently accelerate or decelerate a digital vehicle, Baby Steps shows us that, instead, the full potential was being able to precisely control the step of a foot all along. When you press the left trigger on a controller, Nate lifts his left leg. When you stop pressing the left trigger, he lowers it. Same idea with the right trigger, with the right leg. Tilting the left thumbstick causes Nate to lean his body in that direction, and the combination of trigger and thumbstick are the way in which locomotion is achieved. Lean, lift, step, repeat with the other side. Over and over and over. This is what we call walking. It is simulating walking. It is a walking simulator.
Once you come to terms with all of that and slowly trod out of a cave, you quickly learn that your main goal is to simply walk up a mountain. At first, out of sheer curiosity—what else is there to do except walk? Later, out of necessity—this mountain contains a thing that will help you return to your normal life! Do you need other motivation? It’s a video game. This is what you signed up for. It’s a prospect not all that dissimilar to 2017’s terrific and frustrating Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy, where you take control of a man who seemingly resides in a large cauldron, his only means of conveyance being a sledgehammer he swings about. Get up the mountain. Why? Well why not?
Would you believe me if I told you that Bennett Foddy is one of the three core developers on Baby Steps (along with Gabe Cuzzillo and Maxi Boch, with whom he collaborated on for 2019’s Ape Out)? Oh… you would? Oh… it was one of the main reasons why you’re even interested in playing this in the first place? Ah, well, uh, I mean… Okay. Like. I suppose you know what you’re getting yourself into then. Something that seems almost laughably mundane, made, at times, teeth-shatteringly difficult through a combination of wacky character physics and absurd world design.
Unlike Getting Over It, however, the world of Baby Steps is open and explorable, chock full of random little nooks and crannies and corners, things to see and climb on and off the beaten path. Characters (nearly all of whom are voiced by Foddy, who sounds like he is having just the best time) that you’ll probably love, or at least laugh at, even when Nate, your avatar, is being belligerently unwilling to accept their guidance. A manchild wholly unable to let anyone get close enough to even be called an acquaintance, let alone a friend.
And so you walk, slappity-slapping the soles of your little feet against the mud and rock and whatever else this weird world throws in your path. Through a mixture of confident, dogged strides and dainty little tippy-taps, you make your way over branches and bridges, stones and streams. And you will fall over. A lot. Sometimes you will fall over even when you think you shouldn’t have. Sometimes you will fall over the side of a cliff after meticulously stepping over a series of small steps, cursed with the knowledge that you will now have to do it all over again. Sometimes you will fall because the electrical impulses controlling your fingers short-circuited in the middle of a long, straight walk over flat terrain, interrupting your flow state, and causing you to press the same trigger twice in a row or something. And you will watch as Nate topples over and flails on the ground. This happened to me often, even after more than a dozen hours of play. There is a reason I am writing this review instead of being a sexy drummer in a sexy rock band. My ability to hold onto a steady rhythm is hindered by my woefully broken brain.
Luckily, the world is almost always interesting to venture out into, even when you’re retracing your steps or find yourself on a new path after having fallen off of the old one. These points of interest range from fun little easter eggs to new side objectives you can complete, if you want. In fact, most of what you encounter is something you can interact with, if you so choose. You may see carnival rides almost fully buried in mud that you can try and climb. You may find a dude selling very large shoes and subsequently be subjected to a funny and awkward cutscene. You may find a hat that you can wear, and that you will eventually lose in a fall, inspiring either seething rage or crushing despair. When this happens, you may shout out loudly in pure anguish. I never did though. I have never, ever been mad at a video game. Especially not this one. I never once yelled, “Fuck!” or “God dammit!” or “A POX ON YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY, BENNETT FODDY. A POX. AN ETERNAL CURSE HAUNTING YOUR LINEAGE FOR GENERATIONS TO COME.” You might. I didn’t.
But the point is that even in those moments where you find yourself nearly despondent, the world is designed in such a way that there is almost always an interesting path forward. You may spend an hour trying to climb a boulder to kick over one of the many pyramids of canned peaches (the fuckers), or you may try and see if you can answer a telephone on top of a bluff, or you may try and kick a soccer ball into a goal to see if you unlock an achievement for doing so. The game, typically, does not provide any sort of substantive reward for doing any of these things. The satisfaction, more often, is derived from having accomplished the thing. Or sometimes the satisfaction is failing to do the thing for the 30th fucking time and saying to yourself, “You know what, Keenan? Life is too short to keep doing this. You have a wife and family. There’s a whole world to explore out there and it’s not worth your sanity to keep bashing your head against this wall. Just move on.” And then you move on. Congratulations: that’s character growth.
If this all sounds like it might be a little daunting, I mean, yeah. If you want a game that makes trekking from Point A to Point B a little less frustrating, might I suggest the wonderful Death Stranding 2? That game gives you a motorcycle, and even a map! Baby Steps, though, is very much an embodiment of the cliché: “It’s the journey, not the destination.” And your ability to enjoy that really depends on how much satisfaction you derive from doing something over and over and over and over and over and over and over until you finally complete it or peace out.
Personally? Like I said at the beginning, there’s a good chance I might just be a stubborn asshole. There were so many times throughout my adventure where I was walking with almost Terminator-esque determination to the next point in the critical path, only to look over and see something and think, “Bet I could get on top of that,” and then try (and usually repeatedly fail) to do so. In the end, I tallied 11 pyramids of peaches kicked. I saw a couple more in my journey, including one that was placed in a location so intimidating that I immediately thought, “lol no” and just continued on. My playthrough was a pleasant mix of eyes-on-the-prize, get-to-the-end, lets-roll-some-credits-baby determination, and ooh-whats-this-thing-over-here?? distraction.
Eventually, I “finished” the game, which told me I did so in 13 hours and 1 minute (and some seconds I forgot to write down), and then presented me with what is maybe the most inventive and satisfying credits sequences I’ve ever seen in a video game. Truly, the time I spent toiling was absolutely worth it for the credits alone. I am not exaggerating. Also, for reference, a representative from Devolver Digital said that most playthroughs end up being 8-10 hours, or upwards of 15-20 if one tries to explore everything on the mountain. So your mileage may vary, depending on your gluttony for punishment, or your penchant for mesmerizing glutes.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention! Despite the, uh, I dunno, PS2-era graphics (not derogatory), Baby Steps isn’t the most visually-appealing game I’ve ever seen. The world itself, the textures and character models, and the assets all contained within are functional. A nice byproduct of this is that the game ran beautifully on my five year-old rig, with nary a snag, stutter, or crash, usually staying well above 120 FPS at all times. And honestly, the art direction is hard to get too worked up about considering how exquisitely it renders Nate’s truly bodacious butt. Knowing that the vast majority of your time will be spent watching your portly pal stomp around, the dev team smartly paid ample attention to the wobbliness of the cheeks encased within his onesie. Like two manatees hugging in a sausage casing, Nate’s rump jiggles and undulates with every step. Every fall is cushioned, physically and mentally, by two Christmas hams mercifully strapped to his behind. Each glorious vista plays second fiddle to the gargantuan tush on display. And whenever I found myself sullen and questioning whether or not I could continue, the allure of his keister kept me going. It’s the best video game behind this side of Bayonetta, and one that deserves to be forever ensconced in the annals of video game history. No amount of mounting frustration was able to overcome the joy elicited by his quivering can. And one of the most memorable aspects of my entire journey was how at every step of the way, his sweet, sweet bottom kept me from reaching my own.
My PC Specs:
– Windows 11
– Intel Core i7 10700 @ 2.9GHz
– G.SKILL Trident Z Neo Series 3600MHZ 64GB (2 x 32GB) DDR4 RAM
– Nvidia GeForce RTX 3070 8GB GDDR6
– Samsung 970 EVO Plus M.2 (1 TB)
– ASUS VG278 monitor (@ 1920×1080)
– Xbox Series X|S controller (the superior modern-day gaming controller. Please send all complaints about that statement to scott@savingcontent.com)
On top of all of this is a soundscape that is just as delightfully disconcerting as the rest of the experience. I already mentioned the hilarious voice acting from Foddy, but Nate’s own constipated grunts and grumbles and mumbles bring life to every step of the journey. And then, all around you, a cacophonous mishmash of nature: bird chirps and cicada buzzes and rock crunches. Thwops, thuds, thunders, sloshes, and slurps all layered on top of one another. The soundtrack becoming a pulsing, rhythmic battering dynamically responding to the world around you and your progress within it. It is unique and strange and hypnotizing, and I am told that in the coming months, Maxi Boch and her engineers will only improve upon its implementation further. I, for one, am excited to come back and see how the audio evolves.
I hope it’s obvious that I loved Baby Steps. I loved how it immediately allured me with its silly controls, wacky world and characters, and the numerous challenges that were largely fun (AND NEVER MADE ME MAD). It’s not as laser-focused as something like Getting Over It, which felt like a tightly-controlled roller coaster of an experience. This is more akin to a theme park, albeit one where the fun is largely in your hands. You get to decide how much or how little of the world you want to engage with. You get to decide which challenges are enjoyable diversions and which ones aren’t worth your time. You get to decide just how much you want to flail around, with each step forward one step closer to reaching the end. And when you get there, you’ll have realized that some things are worth doing the hard way, and others, well, let’s just say it’s good to have friends by your side.
A Steam code was provided in advance by the publisher for review purposes
