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Fishbowl is a hard game to reckon with. Not just because of the obvious; it portrays themes of grief, loss, reconciling with childhood memories, and identifying how to move on when there doesn't seem to be any light left. These are themes that have become mainstays of the indie game scene. They generally arise from a desire to tell a singular type of story, and when the writer has an affiliation for video games, it's natural that would become the medium of choice.

Here we have two branching paths—for truly story-based, text-based affairs, we have the pure visual novel, where the player's only interaction with the game is likely to be advancing text. Those with a bit more interaction usually take the form of a lighthearted adventure game or walking sim, utilizing small-but-meaningful gameplay elements or puzzle solving to advance the plot. Fishbowl, then, exists in limbo. It is both and neither, and its indecision squanders a genuinely impactful and well-written main storyline. Part of Fishbowl's problem is that the gameplay, light as it is, is so often at odds with the feelings the game wants you to feel. You play as Alo, who takes on a new job in an unfamiliar city under quarantine while grieving over the death of her grandmother. The game can be split into a few sections—your job as a multimedia editor (which takes the form of an uneventful rhythm game), your daily tasks, and your unpacking of the recently deceased's possessions.

These don't really work together. The daily tasks are done under the guise of improving Alo's mood, giving her a routine and the strength to carry on. It's things you'd remind your friend to do if they were going through something similar—drink water, make sure to eat, practice daily hygiene, and try to do things you enjoy. These actions are largely repetitive and unengaging, sure, but the bigger crime is that improving Alo's mood doesn't actually...do anything?

There are no consequences for skipping any number of tasks, and there's no real benefit to doing them either. And they aren't fun beyond the first or second time, and the events of the story don't seem to mix with how seemingly well Alo is taking care of herself. It's a bit strange to watch her suffer through a traumatic memory, nearly have a full mental breakdown, and then still have the energy to cheerily cook a full meal, prepare a shower, read a book, play a game, clean the house, do the laundry...et cetera, et cetera, all in one night.

Sure, there's some satisfaction in seeing the bar go up, seeing the results of your work, especially when watering the flowers or feeding the birds. But once you find out how hollow these daily actions are, the illusion shatters. Alo could seemingly go a few weeks without food or water or survive on nothing but toast. There's no difference. There is a serious dissonance between the game's main story and...pretty much everything else.

Which is ultimately a shame, as the game grapples with feelings of grief and regret and the re-contextualizing of childhood memories in a very unique and touching way. The main story, whenever it is in focus, is generally excellent, especially towards the game's final few days. It's easy to feel the weight of Alo's family history and how one seemingly selfish action can cause a ripple effect that carries on through generations.

Fishbowl touches on that in a beautiful and realistic way while still leaving room for optimism the whole time. It's touching and raw without being overwhelming; it feels like the type of story that would benefit everyone who has had familial struggles of their own. And it reminds us of the beauty of impermanence, encouraging us to never stop trying to be the person we want to be. In Fishbowl, it's never too late to begin...or to say you're sorry.

It's just a shame that so much of the game gets dragged down by largely unremarkable auxiliary dialogue from coworkers or friends. Many of your, uh, non-blood relatives in this game don't have much to offer in terms of personality or interest, save for a few moments here or there, and many rarely justify the screentime they are given. This is symptomatic of Fishbowl as a whole; there is a deeply moving, deeply affecting two-or-three-hour story here, and it's been dragged out with so much supplementary text or repetitive game mechanics that any sections of the game not dedicated to the main plot feel like they are not contributing much.

It would be extremely harsh to call Fishbowl, developed by a 2-person team as their first game, a disappointment. The developers demonstrate obvious writing talent, and the game is likely to encourage empathy in all who cross it. Perhaps disappointment can be worn as a badge of honor, if for no other reason than that the game's incredibly well-written main storyline deserves a tighter-paced or more tactile game to go alongside it. There is a story worth hearing here, for sure, buried beneath the boxes of dusty keepsakes...and boxes of text.

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