Wanderstop: Meditations From a Hidden Grove

I’m lying on the floor, rigid as a corpse. My mind is racing, and now so is my heart. I am considering, in this moment, all of the ways I have failed to be who and what I have always wanted to be. There is no book with your name on the spine. You live in the same small town where you were born. Everyone around you is growing so, so tired of you. You’re going to die. You’re going to die. Probably soon.

I had the worst panic attack of my life while playing Wanderstop.

Wanderstop is a cozy game, that questions what it means to be a cozy game. It takes place at the titular tea shop, a place hidden within a sprawling forest somewhere in a wider fantasy world. Those who travel under the darkened boughs of that place end up being shown “what they need to see." The protagonist, Alta, a woman who has devoted her life to fighting for sport, has journeyed into the forest seeking a legendary master of the martial arts. Instead, she finds a portly bald man and his intricate tree house, both of which are welcoming her to stay and determine why it is that every time she ventures into those woods, she passes out.

Alta has a significant problem here. Her entire life has been dedicated to her craft, which is to say, physical and mental prowess in combat. Until only recently, she was undefeated. Every challenge that came to her, she surmounted. Every opponent fell before her. Then, she lost, and lost again.

That’s what did it. That’s what convinced her that she had to change something, dramatically. So off into the woods she went, seeking the storied Master Winters, refusing to emerge until she better understood what was happening to her and why. That desire is still at the forefront of her mind as she wakes up in Wanderstop, a place for travelers through the forest to take a break from their perilous quests and enjoy a cup of tea.

Tea’s an interesting thing. I’m an American, so it has never been a core part of my culture. We’re more of a coffee kind of people. Something that has that extra kick, wakes us up, and gets us to productivity a little faster. Modern coffee is an industry built on speed. Coffee shops are more successful if they can serve more customers. Machines meant to brew the drink at home are now centered around producing singular cups as quickly as possible, foregoing the age-old tradition of leaving a pot on the broiler. But tea is different. Tea is a drink that requires time. The key to good tea, as I have been told by several Europeans who would know this sort of thing inherently, is in the steeping. Letting the drink sit, at its hottest, and allowing the flavor of whatever you’ve placed within to diffuse through the water.

As Long John Baldry once sang, after the great Jack Buchanan, everything stops for tea.

Tea brewing is the perfect thing for Alta to have to learn, trapped as she is somewhere between the reality she knew and whatever force is keeping her from going straight back to it. Brewing a batch of tea in Wanderstop is a multi-step process, and there’s no speeding it up. One must pour the water, fan the bellows, release a stopper, add ingredients, release a second stopper, and finally pour a single cup. It’s tempting as a person who has played video games all of their life to consider how to do this most efficiently. Should I grab the cup before or after releasing the stopper? Should I organize ingredients along the closest shelf for easy access? And so on.

Theoretically, Wanderstop doesn’t want you to do this. But it doesn’t punish the player for expediency either, outside of a little chastisement. Considering that I find creating my own little systems to be meditative, I’m grateful that Wanderstop did not take the opportunity to tell me I was “learning the lesson incorrectly.”

“Meditative” is how the typical cozy game’s loop might be best described. It’s comforting to fulfill simple, repetitive tasks with clear, gratifying results. In its own way, this is a distillation of what we come to video games for. We want to be heroes. We long to feel important. We desire, inherently, to see the life we lead impacting the world around us. To know that we matter. Of course, you and I both know that stories in real life are rarely as cut and dry as the outcomes we seek in the media we choose to consume.

Wanderstop takes time to zero in on this meditative aspect, telling the player that they're operating on the side of the road for other characters' journerys. The only story we’re really going to see in its totality is Alta’s. That’s why we’re here, after all. Wanderstop’s keeper, the aforementioned bald man Boro, guides Alta to a shrine to engage in literal meditation as each chapter of the game’s story closes. These scenes show Alta reckoning with both of the voices inside of her, how they conflict and what that means, and she ultimately passes out from the strain. She inevitably reawakens on a bench next to Boro, who trudges off into the underbrush to find her immobile form each time.

Boro’s guidance throughout Wanderstop’s runtime is a pleasure. He is an active listener, asking questions to provoke thought in Alta without offering his own feelings too quickly. He’s a man who stands by his beliefs. His intentions are fairly clear to anyone reading between the lines, but it’s hard to hold that against him when what he’s trying to accomplish is admirable. He’s trying to help Alta, specifically, find a little order in her life.

You’ve wasted it. The time, the money, the opportunity. You could have been someone. You could have created the life you long for. You could be desired and active and out. You could be a different person. Wouldn’t it be better if you were someone else? Anyone else? Why would you want to live in this head, this voice asking you questions constantly? Were you ever free from it? Don’t you remember how many times you’ve made the wrong decision? Let’s count…

A panic attack is a difficult thing to describe. It is simultaneously like having adrenaline shot directly into your chest and falling ass-backwards into a vat of syrup. The world slows down, but everything inside of you speeds up. The word “attack” is not applied lightly. It is like one’s body is turning hostile to the mind piloting it.

I’ve been told by various parties over the years that the solution to one of these attacks is simple: It’s loving touches, or a walk in the sunshine, a breathing exercise, or it’s a multi-thousand-dollar course on conquering your inner critic. Whatever.

When you’re lying on the floor telling yourself that you’re going to die, all of that sounds like snake oil. I figured that everyone who experienced this had their own way through it. Maybe it just wasn’t universal. Maybe that’s looking for the best in people even when they should, frankly, mind their own business.

But if everybody minded their own business, how could anyone ask for help?

Alta spends quite a bit of time talking to herself. She goes through all the hits: I’m an idiot. I’m not strong enough. I have no idea what I’m doing. Sometimes when she ventures into the forest, these thoughts begin to conquer her. But a voice emerges from the dark. Illuminated, in perhaps more than one way, a different version of Alta comes to her in these moments of despair.

This Other Alta always has a plan, always knows what to do, always has a suggestion. Alta has listened to this voice throughout her life, letting it decide what must be done. Sometimes this voice guides her through the mire of inadequacy. But sometimes she makes more rash decisions, harmful decisions. If not for Alta, then for others.

Despite this, Alta has made it to where she is today because she has followed through with Other Alta’s plans.

Only, if that road led to Wanderstop, were those plans not worth heeding? Did they threaten to direct her somewhere else, to turn her desire for strength and renown into violence? Or did they bring her precisely where she needed to be to learn, at this specific point in her life, that sometimes the Other Alta may not know what’s best?

At what point does the metaphor fall apart? As I sit in quiet contemplation, as Alta does, considering all the rash decisions I have made while listening to my own inner voice?

When do I put the controller down and consider, in these precious moments of quiet, where I need to wander next?

When the game ends, Alta observes that she thought this experience would leave her somehow changed once she was on the other side of it. Like Wanderstop itself would reveal to her some mystic truth or guiding light that would make whatever comes next easier. The real truth, however, is that she is merely more prepared for that next phase of life, not “in control” of it. Her time at Wanderstop has made her stronger, in a way, but it has not bestowed upon her some power that was previously locked.

Just like in our real life, every experience merely precedes another.
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.”

There are lots of questions I have as I walk away from Wanderstop, but I realize that many of their answers are somewhere within myself. I don’t need a DLC telling me what happens to Alta next, though I care about her as a character and hope that she finds her feet. I'd like to think she'd see the similarities between us as well and wish the same.

If the old adage holds true and there are indeed two wolves inside of us, then Wanderstop is a game about them finding a way to howl in harmony. It’s about moving away from hearing whatever voice within oneself is the “correct” one and listening to all the various parts of oneself. Wanderstop is about trying your best, observing your successes and failures, and realizing that every one of them is part of your entire story. Whether you’re an undefeated fighter or an under-performing writer.

Wanderstop is a game about learning to trust yourself, even when you feel like your own worst enemy.

I know the language is getting away from me. Part of the difficulty in saying you should play a video game is not ruining the things that, when they surprise you, make that experience more effective. I’m not going to spoiler alert Wanderstop because I think you should go play Wanderstop.

If you’ve ever had a panic attack, you should play Wanderstop.

If you’ve ever lain on the floor considering how unavoidable death is, you should play Wanderstop.

If you’ve ever realized that somewhere along the way “burnout” went from something that happened to other people to something you experienced alongside that helpful friend we call denial, you should play Wanderstop.

It takes a soft approach and time to see through. But the only story we’re really going to see in its totality is our own. That's why we're here, after all.