SPOILER WARNING: MINOR PARTS OF THE IMPERFECTS WILL BE DISCUSSED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
As discussions around mental health have gradually become more accepted by society, the gaming world has been slowly saturated with titles featuring characters struggling with mental illness. Creators have the difficult task of translating mental and emotional obstacles into a tangible reality for players while still providing a clear narrative. The Company of Myself does an excellent job of toeing the line between abstractness and reality, serving as an entertaining metaphorical mystery that sprinkles enough clues to keep gamers invested until its final revelation.
The Company of Myself features Jack, a self-proclaimed loner and our unreliable narrator. One of the first things that Jack tells us is that he loves performing, hinting that his story is one he has carefully constructed in his solitary confinement. He also claims that he’s accepted his lonely existence, that he’s content. But the truth is that Jack needs an audience for his story. And once the only person who will listen to his tale finally leaves, he’s left trapped in the depths of his own mind.
The game is an inventive platformer, requiring the use of shadowy figures to clear the levels. Stand-ins for Jack’s thoughts, grief, and his past, these figures are his only company. Passing the levels necessitates continuous respawning, using the shadows as minions that follow a predetermined path that you set using the real Jack. These shadow selves have no free will. They mindlessly mirror Jack’s actions, and this manipulative mechanism emphasizes that all is not well. We may be moving the character, but Jack has full control over his own narrative. And he’s not telling us everything. In certain stages, Jack admits that he can’t complete the task alone, but he also says that he prides his ability to work by himself. Thus, the shadows subtly imply that Jack knows that loneliness is not good for his mental well-being, and yet he refuses to rely on anyone but himself.
Jack’s love interest, Kathryn, appears very briefly towards the midpoint of the game. Once she arrives, the gameplay switches between the two characters in lieu of the shadow figures, which are conspicuously absent. The style becomes very similar to that of Fireboy and Watergirl, a game which was released around the same time as The Company of Myself. It’s interesting to note that, unlike Fireboy and Watergirl, you are unable to move both characters at the same time. While Kathryn and Jack may have been in love, they were never quite on the same page, and one could never progress at the exact same pace as the other. It’s only when Jack pulls a lever, erasing the platform that Kathryn’s standing on and dropping her from view, do we finally understand that Jack isn’t just grieving a lost love. He had an active hand in her death. And he’s a lot more dangerous than the pleasant hermit he’s presenting himself as.
There’s plenty of planting throughout the game, with each level containing some sort of metaphorical hint you can use to solve the enigma that is Jack. Every narration that Jack provides seems to have a double meaning. The green box that serves as a portal between the levels is significant to him, simultaneously a tool for his escape while also continuing his entrapment. Every checkpoint is a small flower, maintaining the continuity of Jack’s mental space while also playing a significant part in his repetitive behavior. Every easter egg is carefully and deliberately placed, and all of them contribute to the final payoff. But while no plot point is left disconnected, it’s nearly impossible to piece together the complete story from the hints placed before us, giving the finale significant impact.
The only problem with the game is that its difficulty level may result in players giving up before reaching its conclusion. It requires lots of trial and error to succeed, and the game’s emphasis on being trapped in repetitive cycles may create intense frustration to the point of quitting altogether. Only those fully enraptured by the game’s mystery will find its answers satisfactory enough to continue playing. Others will leave Jack to his mental prison.
It’s eventually revealed that Jack killed Kathryn, burying her in a green package and planting two flowers next to her grave. He is being visited by a therapist, who claims that Jack has presented her with the same story for eight years. It is her last visit, and Jack is finally completely alone, declaring, “The shrink leaves, and suddenly I don’t even have a person to tell my story to anymore.” His grief, loneliness, and insistence of being trapped in his past makes sense, as do the reoccurring symbols that have appeared throughout the game. We’re finally given closure, albeit not the happy ending we may have wanted.
By the finale, we’ve bought into Jack’s narrative, and while we understand that he’s dangerous and has committed a heinous crime, there’s some empathy instilled in us for him. It’s the same intrigue and pursuit of understanding that has our culture obsessed with true crime podcasts and serial killer documentaries. We want to make sense of the madness, to create reason where there may only be emotion. The Company of Myself does a fantastic job of presenting its protagonist’s inner conflicts and allowing players to inspect it through the lens of their own ethical ideals. Its moral quandaries may leave you with more questions than answers.