No Longer Home - Queer Meandering Melancholy

I started playing No Longer Home a few years ago in an attempt to cover it for Pride Month. I tried finishing it the following year, when a power outage killed the stream (both Harel Cohen, who was watching the stream, and I screamed "NO!" from our separate corners of the world when that happened). It took me until this June to take up the game again, hoping that no external events would interrupt me this time.

The first question I had was, "What is going on with the cats?" Because a cat in the apartment seemed to change colors. Playing the rest of the game solved that: the apartment had two cats, one being orange and aloof and the other being a sweet void. That solution did not explain the number of times that the apartment walls literally fell away or why two humanoids appear in seemingly empty rooms. A greater mystery lies beneath the domestic disquiet, but that one doesn't get solved.

What Is Going On In South London?

I'm actually not sure. Bo and Ao, friends who may have become romantic partners, have to part soon. Both have graduated from art school but can't find jobs, with immigration services forcing Ao to return to Japan. Ao mentions that their biracial family can find them a job easily in advertising, but they don't want to leave London. Bo hopes they can find a position that gives them money and a purpose, and they don't want Ao to leave. 

Most of the game covers conversations that Ao and Bo have with their friends. They talk about how South London has changed with gentrification, that college was not what they expected it to be, and how uncertain the future looks. Ao asserts to a doubting Bo that no matter what has happened in the past or how college has disappointed them, following their dreams in art was worth it because they met each other. Bo is more skeptical, wondering if they should have done something more stable and found certainty in their career choices.

We don't get much gameplay, mainly dialogue. It is a pity because I would have wanted to steal our mop back from the neighbors. Bo comments that the mop has been outside the neighbors' apartment, ripe for taking. It would have also been nice to take out the rotting fruit that has gathered flies.

From time to time, a strange pointed star shape appears in random places: the kitchen television, the bathroom, and other spots. Clicking on it causes the world to fall away. Ao has mentioned they were waiting for the star shape to go away, while Bo has to confirm if Ao saw it too. I noticed more objects appearing on the walls after clicking on the star shape. The characters act like the posters have always existed, covering the mold and other living hazards that the landlord never fixed.

I was convinced that we were going to have some interdimensional shenanigans. Maybe the universe would interfere to send a sign about this time in the apartment ending, that there would be a way to change things. Alas, we don't get an explanation for the pointed star or the surrealism. It just happens.

Melancholy colors the nightly atmosphere. Each part of the game shows our powerlessness; we can't even steal back our mop from the neighbors. Though Bo wants to find a solution to have Ao stay in London, Ao jokes that trying to overstay a visa is a good way to get arrested. Bo also can't move to Japan with them, though they will visit. Instead, this game is a long farewell for the two of them. It's time for a change that neither of them wants.

Strength in Characters

Ao carries the heart of the game. They will lose the most from the move, having come to love London while studying there. Staying for longer isn't an option; Ao jokes to Bo that the immigration authorities would arrest them if they dared risk an expired visa. (Gee, THAT sounds familiar on this side of the pond.)

Despite this, Ao asserts to Bo that the disappointments, tribulations, and heartbreak were worth it. If Ao had stayed in Japan, they wouldn't know their options for life beyond working in commercial art like everyone else in their family. Traveling abroad expanded their horizons.

Whether or not Ao and Bo maintain a long-distance relationship, they are together in the here and now. They both received their art degrees despite not even having access to a good-quality printer, and they both learned a lot. Meeting Bo made everything worth it. Ao wouldn't change that for the world.

Things are scary right now. Many marginalized people like myself are angry with those that stabbed us in the back, wondering if it's even worth falling in love or pursuing your dreams when the world will screw you over. In the U.K., it's just as bad as it is in the States, with a certain children's fantasy author funding legalized transphobia.

And yet, living and pursuing the life you want matters even if you don't achieve it. Because it means you're not haunted by the "what-ifs" or the people that you didn't meet. You have fewer regrets and a greater understanding of the universe. I had to sit for a bit after Ao tells Bo this while they're both lying in bed, unable to sleep.

The Weird Part

As they both pack up the apartment, Ao and Bo can wander. Ao argues with a giant green furry creature named Gi, calling them a freeloader as Gi keeps watching television. Bo stares as another blue one called Lu mistakenly calls them Edith and apologizes for moving in "early". They both occupy the spare rooms. We do not get an explanation about either of the creatures.

Ao and Bo had mentioned that there were four roommates in their shared apartment. They had implied the other two were human, however, given that the other two rooms were already packed up. Bo also can't get into Gi's room. Gi never leaves, and Ao can't see Lu. Meeting these creatures counts as one achievement each. We can miss them if we take a wrong turn around the apartment and miss a click.

I was plain confused, and if the creators could clarify this part, it would be great. While the symbolism in other parts of the game made sense, like the forest from Bo's text game appearing while they and Ao go for one last neighborhood stroll when they can't sleep, I don't understand the creatures. They aren't furries, as Ao would have been able to see Lu otherwise. Gi has also said they follow Ao wherever Ao goes, implying that Gi is a manifestation of Ao's neurodivergence and undiagnosed ADHD, something they mention in passing with Bo. Ao and Bo also check on the cats when they stare at the cracks in the bathroom walls, hinting both of the creatures are monsters that the humans don't want in their reality.

Sure, Bo's text game has the player character meeting a dragon-like creature named Aya who bickers with a friend. Still, Aya is nothing like Gi or Lu. The character design contrasts highly. So what is going on there? I like abstract animation, especially in such a gorgeous game, but a little clarification would be nice.

Is This Game Worth It?

I think it's worth playing No Longer Home once. Authorial intent matters when the story isn't obvious on the surface. And if the creators can provide some answers, I may replay it to better understand the context. Even if I'm confused now, maybe I won't be in the future and can update this article.

You should absolutely play No Longer Home if you have some time on your hands while feeling stuck or helpless. The game asserts that it is worth loving someone even if they can't stay in your life, and it is worth trying to pursue your dreams no matter how the world fails you. Straight or queer, those sentiments register regardless of sexuality. But for the angry queers feeling the world is unfair? No Longer Home provides comfort within its uncertainty.