Arise: A Simple Story is exactly the kind of game that, in theory, should have been an unforgettable experience for me. An adventure focused on emotions, memory, loss, and love, presented through a stunning art direction and a nearly wordless narrative. Every ingredient was present to create something deeply moving.
And yet, despite recognizing the game's quality in practically every aspect, I never managed to build the emotional connection I expected.
That doesn't mean Arise is a bad game. Far from it.
There's enormous sensitivity in everything it does. From the very first minutes, we understand we're facing an experience built to provoke reflection and convey feelings through gameplay, music, and visual presentation. The story follows the journey of a man who, after death, revisits important moments of his life, traveling through the memories that shaped who he was as a person.
It's a simple premise, but an extremely effective one.
Throughout the adventure we're carried through different phases of his life, exploring recollections that range from the happiest moments to the most painful. Without relying on long dialogue or constant explanation, the game manages to communicate universal themes like love, longing, loss, and regret in a very elegant way.
The narrative is, without a doubt, one of its greatest strengths.
There's a very genuine sincerity in how the story is presented. The game trusts the player's ability to interpret events and fill in the empty spaces with their own emotions. That approach works particularly well at several points in the campaign, creating scenes that manage to convey a great deal through visual language alone.
Visually, Arise is absolutely fantastic.
Every level looks like a painting in motion. The different memories are represented through unique environments brimming with color, detail, and symbolism. There's enormous visual variety across the settings, which helps keep the experience constantly fresh.
From snow-covered landscapes to fields lit by warm, welcoming colors, each location has its own identity and conveys distinct emotions. It's one of those games where you often feel like simply stopping for a few seconds to take in the scenery.
The art direction is truly impressive.
The soundtrack matches that visual quality in exemplary fashion. The compositions arrive at the right moments, reinforcing the scenes' emotional impact without ever feeling excessive or manipulative. There's a very interesting balance between music and silence, allowing certain moments to breathe naturally.
The gameplay also presents a rather original idea.
The ability to control the flow of time in order to change the environment and solve puzzles is an intelligent mechanic that ties directly into the narrative. The concept of moving forward or backward in time to revisit memories fits the story's theme perfectly and creates some genuinely creative moments along the adventure.
The puzzles are generally accessible and work as a complement to the narrative experience, without becoming too complex or frustrating. The focus is clearly on the emotional journey rather than on challenge for challenge's sake.
And perhaps that's precisely where my main difficulty with the game arises.
Despite admiring everything Arise does, I never felt the emotional impact I anticipated. Some games hit us almost immediately, creating a deep bond with their characters and events. In this case, no matter how hard I tried to fully immerse myself in the story, I always felt a slight emotional distance.
I can't point to one concrete reason why.
Maybe it was the more abstract way some emotions are presented. Maybe the absence of dialogue made it harder to form a stronger bond with the characters. Or maybe it simply wasn't the right moment for me as a player.
The curious thing is that I can perfectly recognize the narrative's emotional value.
I understand what the game is trying to convey. I can identify its most important moments and comprehend the weight of its events. But for some reason, I was never completely absorbed by the experience in the way I expected when I started it.
That ends up making my opinion of Arise particularly interesting.
It's one of those rare cases where I can deeply admire a game without truly falling in love with it. I recognize the quality of the narrative, the art direction, the soundtrack, and the creativity of its mechanics. I clearly see why so many people built such a strong emotional connection with this adventure.
But with me, that connection simply didn't happen.
Even so, that doesn't diminish the game's merits.
Arise: A Simple Story remains a beautiful, sincere, and carefully constructed experience — a work that approaches universal themes with sensitivity and that tries to tell a human story through interaction and emotion instead of words.
Even if it didn't move me as deeply as I hoped, I still consider it a game worth trying. Because there's something special about the way it tells its story and in how it uses the medium of video games to talk about memories, love, and saying goodbye.
Maybe it didn't create in me the emotional connection I anticipated.
But it achieved something equally important: it made me reflect on how different stories affect us at different moments in life. And that alone already gives it a value that deserves to be recognized.
out of 10
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Game Arise: A Simple Story Released 2019 Available on PC · PlayStation 4 · Xbox One · Nintendo Switch Reviewed on Nintendo Switch |  Cover: IGDB |
| PL | Pedro Lopes Writer · Portugal |
A games writer from Portugal running on a highly irresponsible amount of coffee — his blood type is officially "espresso". He has been a content creator at Lisbon Games Week, a jury member at Over & Out ’25 and an attendee of DevGAMM Lisbon 2025 (mostly for the free coffee). He has a Pac-Man tattoo on his finger, which contractually obliges him to chase ghosts forever.