Possum Springs is dying. It’s not a quick death, like a jump scare in a horror movie, but a slow, agonizing slide into irrelevance that anyone from a rust-belt town recognizes in their bones. When you fire up Night in the Woods, you aren't just playing a "walking simulator" or a platformer. You’re stepping into the shoes of Mae Borowski, a 20-year-old college dropout who returns home because her brain broke, only to find that her hometown is breaking too.
It's been years since Infinite Fall released this game, yet the conversation around it hasn't cooled off. Why? Because it’s one of the few pieces of media that actually understands what it feels like to be young, broke, and terrified of the future.
What Night in the Woods Gets Right About Being Lost
Mae is a cat. Her best friend Gregg is a woods-loving fox. His boyfriend Angus is a stoic bear, and Bea is a cynical crocodile who smokes too much. It sounds like a children's book, but the writing is sharp enough to draw blood. Most games treat "choice" as a way to save the world. Here, choice is about who you hang out with at the mall or which band practice you probably won't screw up.
Honestly, the game's brilliance lies in its mundane cruelty. You spend your days walking across power lines and your nights staring at a ceiling fan. You realize your parents took out a second mortgage to send you to a school you couldn't handle. That hits harder than any boss fight.
The ghost in the gears
There’s a supernatural element, sure. Something is moving in the woods. There’s a cult, maybe? Or just a bunch of desperate people doing terrible things to keep their town alive? The "Black Goat" and the cosmic horror elements act as a metaphor for the systemic rot of late-stage capitalism. It’s not just spooky; it’s a critique of how society discards people when they’re no longer "useful."
Scott Benson, the game's co-creator and artist, has been vocal about the labor themes woven into the narrative. The mines closed. The glass factory is gone. The kids are stuck working at "Snack Falcon" or "U-Sprice" for pennies while the older generation clings to a past that’s never coming back.
Breaking Down the Gameplay Loop
You wake up. You check your computer. You talk to your dad about the game on TV. You head into town.
This repetition is intentional. Night in the Woods wants you to feel the stagnation. You run into the same neighbors. You see the same "Coming Soon" signs on buildings that will never open. It creates a sense of place that most AAA open-world games can't touch despite having 100x the budget.
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- Platforming: It’s floaty. Mae jumps like she’s half-distracted, which fits her character perfectly.
- Mini-games: From Bass Hero style rhythm games to a full-on dungeon crawler on Mae’s laptop (Demontower), these breaks prevent the dialogue-heavy scenes from feeling stagnant.
- Dialogue: The "talk bubbles" wiggle and shake based on the emotion of the speaker. It’s a tiny detail that makes the text feel like actual human—er, animal—speech.
Many players get frustrated by the slow pace in Act 1. Stick with it. The game is building a foundation so that when things start to get weird in Act 3, you actually care about the characters who are in danger. If you didn't spend three days eating pizza and stealing a shoplifted animatronic arm with Gregg, the finale wouldn't hurt nearly as much.
The Mental Health Layer
We need to talk about "Dr. Hank" and Mae’s dissociation. The game calls it "The Issues." Mae sees the world as just shapes. It’s a terrifyingly accurate depiction of depersonalization. She isn't "quirky"; she’s struggling with a legitimate, documented mental health crisis that the game handles with more grace than almost any other medium.
She’s angry. She smashes things with a baseball bat. She’s often a bad friend. It’s refreshing to play a protagonist who is allowed to be messy and unlikeable. You don't play Mae to be a hero; you play her to survive a Tuesday.
Why the "Longest Night" and "Lost Constellation" Matter
If you’ve only played the main game, you’re missing pieces of the puzzle. These supplemental vignettes (originally released as "supplementals" during development) flesh out the folklore of the world. They establish the constellations and the deep, mythic history of the region. They prove that Possum Springs isn't just a backdrop—it’s a character with a long, bloody memory.
Addressing the Controversies and Legacy
It’s impossible to discuss the game without acknowledging the tragedy surrounding its development. The passing of Alec Holowka, the game’s programmer and composer, following serious allegations, left a complicated shadow over the project. For many fans, it’s hard to separate the art from the artist.
However, the remaining team members, including Scott Benson and Bethany Hockenberry, have continued to support the community. Their new project, Revenant Hill, was unfortunately cancelled due to health issues within the team, which felt like a second blow to fans who found a home in the "Night in the Woods" universe.
Despite this, the game’s influence is everywhere. You see it in the "cozy game" movement, though Night in the Woods is far more "midwestern gothic" than cozy. It paved the way for games that prioritize local politics and class struggle over power fantasies.
Moving Beyond the Woods: What to Do Next
If you’ve finished the game and feel that "post-game depression," you aren't alone. The ending doesn't fix everything. The town is still dying. Mae is still mentally ill. But they’re all together.
Practical Steps for New or Returning Players:
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- Play through twice. You literally cannot see everything in one go. If you hung out with Bea the first time, go with Gregg the second. Their subplots are entirely different and reveal different sides of Mae's history.
- Actually play Demontower. Most people skip the game-within-a-game on Mae's computer. Don't. It has multiple endings and is a surprisingly deep Soulslike-lite that mirrors Mae’s own internal struggles.
- Check out the OST. The music is legendary for a reason. Tracks like "Rainy Day" or "Astral Alley" are perfect for lo-fi study vibes, but they also carry the specific melancholy of the game's setting.
- Look for the constellations. Talk to Mr. Chazokov every time he's on the roof. The world-building hidden in those telescope segments is some of the best writing in the game.
The real takeaway from Night in the Woods isn't about solving a mystery. It’s about the fact that at the end of the world—or at the end of a shitty shift at the local pharmacy—the only thing that matters is the people who are willing to sit on a couch and eat pierogies with you. It’s a small, quiet, rebellious kind of hope. That is why we are still talking about it.