I wasn’t sure about writing a Grumpy Dad Game Review for Stray. Not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because it’s not exactly lacking in coverage. Hype always makes me a little uncomfortable, like that acquaintance who’s always a little too bubbly in public. What’s more, my friend’s excellent review for Twinfinite is far superior to anything I can cobble together on a whim, and Anthony de Fault has written a very insightful article about the game’s avatar for Wireframe Magazine. But then I thought, “Screw it. There’s only one person doing Grumpy Dad Game Reviews (to my knowledge). Let’s do it.”
Stray is a game developed by French outfit BlueTwelve Studio and published by Annapurna Interactive. Annapurna have painstakingly built a reputation for publishing titles with a novel premise and/or strong narrative focus, so their association is usually a good indicator that the title is at least of interest, even if they don’t always hit the mark. Thankfully, Stray does. For the most part, anyway.
In Stray, you play as a little puddy cat which finds itself stuck in a dilapidated, often claustrophobic cyberpunk city. Although there are no humans or, indeed, other cats in this city, you soon discover you’re not alone. Sentient, humanoid robots and peckish little blighters called the Zurks—sort of one-eyed, fluffier takes on Half-Life’s headcrabs—have made the place their home. Separated from your clowder (apparently the collective noun for a group of cats!), you must find a way out of the city to resume your previous life lounging around, gobbling up mice, and licking your butthole. Or something like that. I’m sure most players weren’t thinking about the plot too much, and that’s cool. After all, you’re playing as a cute kitty. What’s not to love?
And yes, playing as a moggy is very cool. BlueTwelve Studios clearly did their research into the nuances of cat behaviour, and you can indulge in a pleasing array of shenanigans. Right at the start, your player kitty aggravates another cat off by pawing at its tail. It has a play fight with another, demands a wash from a third, then settles down for a quiet nap. As someone who has had cats most of my life, the mannerisms and general laziness were spot on.
Following that intro, you head out with the rest of the furry felines to do… something. I guess cats don’t need a coherent reason for doing anything, a fact which jars against your player cat’s role as the game progresses. More on that later.
For me, the novelty of trotting around as a kitty witty in the opening area didn’t last long. Stray introduces its primary traversal mechanic early on. You simply press the contextual button when prompted to leap up, down, or across to a ledge. It’s as simple as it sounds and hardly evolves through the course of the game.
After the introduction, Stray plunges you into a dark, brooding urban environment and separates you from your buddies. Even with the change in location, I felt my enthusiasm waning. There was simply too little variety on show.
Thankfully, this all changes when the inciting incident occurs. You encounter a tiny robot companion called B-12, who opens up the ability to interrogate the environment and interact with the humanoid robots that populate the city. The meeting with B-12 also marks the point where the game’s mysteries solidify: What has happened to the humans of the city? Where did the Zurks come from? And how the hell do you get out of the place?
Not only do the mysteries deepen as you progress through Stray’s roughly five to eight-hour duration, but the game introduces new mechanics at pace to stop staleness setting in. Without wishing to spoil the specifics, these include the use of basic weaponry, allowing your pussycat to fight back, and even some Metal Gear Solid-inspired stealth mechanics. While I applaud the deployment of new mechanics to keep the gameplay engaging, I only wish they were explored in greater depth. Barely had I got to grips with the stealth mechanics, for example, when the game drew to a close. I yearned to employ my newfound skills to topple the oppressive regime controlling the city.
In terms of aesthetics, Stray is nothing short of stunning. From the lush opening section teeming with defiant vegetation, through to the dark, foreboding quarantine zone and on to the vibrant, neon-soaked populated areas, the game is incredibly colourful and detailed. The game world is effectively two sizeable sandbox areas linked by a series of more linear sections. Although the linear parts are detailed and atmospheric, it’s the sandbox locales that stand out. I gladly spent hours exploring every nook and cranny of these interlocking, pleasingly-vertical environments.
Make no mistake: the level designers and environment artists should feel proud of what they achieved. I frequently found myself just soaking in the atmosphere and marvelling at the narrative delivered through the tiniest of details. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that Stray’s video game world is one of the best I’ve ever experienced.
But Stray does have some small issues which hold it back from true greatness. Aside from the navigation gripes and underutilisation of interesting mechanics, Stray suffers from a curious form of ludonarrative dissonance. To explain, ludonarrative dissonance may arise when the player’s desires and the player character’s desires do not align, or when the narrative depiction of the player character is inconsistent with what that character does in gameplay. Stray’s problem is the latter. As the stakes increase and the story intrigue deepens, this issue only becomes more prominent. The robots fighting back against the oppressive city overlords increasingly rely on you, their latest recruit, to undertake crucial resistance work.
But you’re just a cat.
As the tasks your little moggy is assigned become more dangerous and complex, I found my storytelling sense tingling. There’s more to this cat than meets the eye, I thought. Perhaps it’s an android like B-12, programmed to overthrow the city’s oppressors. But—spoiler alert—there’s no hint that that’s the case. If a story is only as good as its climax, sadly Stray falls a little short, ending with a whimper.
Despite its flaws, however, I hugely enjoyed Stray. From my point of view as a narrative designer, it’s an excellent example of just how immersive a detailed, interactive game world can be. Just the very act of “being there” in the beautifully realised fictional space was a pleasure. With a little more thought given to addressing the ludonarrative dissonance and a deeper exploration of the interesting gameplay mechanics, a sequel could be truly unmissable.
And I do so hope Stray gets a sequel. BlueTwelve Studio aimed high and succeeded in creating a vibrant, believable world just begging to be explored. And if this grumpy dad felt compelled to poke around every corner of it, they must be doing something right. Having a cute puddy cat as your avatar doesn’t hurt, either.