When I pushed open the creaking door of the old house of the Finch family, I didn’t expect to witness the death of thirteen family members. What’s more unexpected is that behind these seemingly absurd deaths, there is the most gentle praise for life.
The game opens in a foggy morning. I played Edith returning to her childhood home with her mother’s diary in her hand. The old house is like a vertical maze, and each room has been transformed into a memorial hall for the deceased family members. When I pushed open the first room, I instantly became Molly in 1917 — the little girl who accidentally ate poisonous berries because she was locked up. In the hallucinations caused by hunger, I turned into an owl to prey on rabbits, turned into a shark to chase the diver, and finally turned into a monster to return to the bedroom. When the picture turned back to reality and little Molly was lying quietly on the children’s bed, I suddenly understood the true meaning of this game: it was not about death itself, but about the final fantasy of life.
The most shocking thing is the chapter of Louis. During the day, I repeat the mechanical work of cutting fish heads in the canning factory; while operating the joystick with my right hand to cut fish, my left hand is building an increasingly refined fantasy kingdom. Gradually, my attention was completely attracted by the fantasy world, and cutting fish turned into muscle memory. When Louis was finally crowned king in fantasy, but in reality he stuck his head to the knife, my fingers were still mechanically cutting the fish — this sense of immersion made me break out in a cold sweat.
The game’s poetic interpretation of death reaches its peak in Barbara’s chapter. This exaggerated child star story is told as a B-grade horror film: black-and-white pictures, exaggerated sound effects, and comic-style dialog boxes. When she mysteriously disappeared on Halloween night, the game left players an open ending — maybe she really became an urban legend, or maybe it was just the most decent way for a star to exit.
Each death story uses a completely different way of interaction. Gregory turned into a jellyfish in the bathtub, Calvin flew into space on a swing, and Walter waited for the end of the world in the basement... These seemingly absurd fates become realistic through exquisite gameplay design. When I aimed at the elk for Sam, when I flew a kite for Milton, I was not only a spectator, but also a participant in the tragedy.
Late at night after customs clearance, I lay in bed and recalled these stories. I suddenly realized that the curse of the Finch family was not death, but too vigorous imagination. Instead of being crushed by fate, they chose to say goodbye in the most poetic way. Just like Walter lived in the basement for 30 years just to wait for an “end” that may not come — this almost paranoid romance, isn’t it the most stubborn love for life?
If you also want to rethink the meaning of life and death, _What Remains of Edith Finch_ will give you the most gentle answer. It will not give you cheap emotion, but invite you to walk into a magical and realistic family epic. When the game is over, you will find that what you remember is not those bizarre deaths, but the light of life blooming at the most splendid moment.
