Review: Every Day the Same Dream

It takes quite a game to elicit a genuine emotional response from me. But here I am, typing away, and hating every minute of it. The reason is quite simple: I just finished (yes, there is an end) Paolo Pedercini's Every Day the Same Dream. This indie game, which borders more on pure art and poetry than game, is a must play for any wage slave. Follow this link to play for free and don't forget to hit the jump to read my full review.

First off, let's get through the logistics. You control the main character with the left and right keys and use the spacebar to interact with things in the game world when prompted. The story is just as simple, merely take part in this character's life as he wakes up, says goodbye to his wife before driving to work. All leading up to the chance to do it all over again.

The music, composed by Jesse Stiles, is both haunting and beautiful at the same time. It is the perfect tonal depiction of what this game is and the message behind its delivery.

Without revealing too much, I will say that for the first minute or two, I was just simply playing the game for the sake of playing it. After that, I was playing because I was emotionally attached.

Every Day the Same Dream is a cynical look at our modern world, filled with empty emotions of predetermined establishments and the inevitable grind and lure of the cubicle. It didn't take long playing this game before I started looking for anyway to break the monotony. I just knew there had to be a way to help the faceless, voiceless avatar. I wanted out. I wanted to breathe.


There was one point in the game that really hit me involving a tree. To see such beauty never return was a harsh reality to accept. Every day that I returned to that point in the game, I longed for the experience that I once had. Sadly, there was no going back.

I won't spoil the ending, but I will say that it left me feeling quite empty and alone. Perdicini's message is heard even clearer as I realize that I am still sitting at my keyboard at work typing this and loathing every keystroke.

Well, it's time for me to chase the leaf. It's actually too early for me to clock out for the day, but at this point, who cares. Point received, Perdicini.

Maybe art really is dangerous.