Florence and the Effort of Love
By: Brandon R. Chinn
Tags: Florence, Gaming, Nintendo Switch, Video Game Review, Love

Love is difficult.

This statement is broad and complicated, and betrays a personal understanding of value. Love has become, in many ways, the binding force of our lives. It is complex and messy and not easily defined, and yet in society it is too often presented as the greatest pursuit.

Florence, a visual novel new to the Nintendo Switch eShop but a port of a 2018 mobile game, is a unique visual novel that explores the difficulties of love. Presented from the point of view of the titular character, Florence follows a girl named Florence as she navigates a relationship across a year and change in her mid-twenties. Florence is bored but passionate, trapped in an uninteresting job with only a few prospects, her life a day-in and day-out of the same typical human behaviors: brushing teeth, eating lunch, working, sleeping.

When Florence meets Krish in a chance meet-cute, we are presented with the unfolding relationship, from its most saccharine moments to its inevitable downfall and dissolution.

We minimally interact with Florence’s daily life.

Florence is a unique game, even among others in the visual novel genre. It’s short and sweet and at the price point of $6 you don’t have to think too hard about the purchase. The art style is incredibly gorgeous, utilizing a hand drawn comic book sort of feel that unfolds in both vertical and horizontal avenues of story presentation, depending on the chapter. The music carries the silent voices of the protagonists along, a beautiful medley of simple piano that stands in for the wordless conversations of Krish and Florence.

This is a comfort game at first, the sort of experience that requires a couch and a pillow and a blanket.

What immediately struck me about Florence was its characters. While the game follows a heteronormative narrative for Florence and Krish’s relationship, its characters at least do not fall on the spectrum of white-washed Hollywood romance. The game was developed by Ken Wong, following his studio’s success with Monument Valley, and the characters of Florence Yeoh and Krish are succinct products of their cultures — Asian and Indian characters are enormously rare among this type of video game, and seeing the way they interact with their families and each other is a refreshing change. Even without dialogue, Florence and Krish feel real and complete, which is a testament to good design considering the game is barely two hours long.

The relationship of Florence and Krish evolves along gameplay segments of small design; expository panels change at the push of a button, but conversations are measured by putting puzzle pieces together, and Florence’s passions of sketching and painting are communicated well to the player by similar minigames.

Florence’s quiet moments involve small minigames.

Florence follows the entirety of the relationship, from Florence’s own boredom with life to her meet cute with Krish and through the highs and lows of their time together. We see Florence having phone conversations with her mother (some of the only real dialogue in the game), as she frustratingly reassures her that she is fine with her life and no, she does not have a boyfriend. She goes to work, she looks at social media, and her everyday life comes to a strict and sudden change when she overhears beautiful music while walking down the sidewalk — Krish is a musician, and it is his music that brings Florence to him.

There are many difficult and grotesque aspects of the heteronormative relationship in America, one of the strongest being the idea of the ‘soulmate.’ This concept is used to sell films and albums, but has permeated our daily life to a point that to be without a soulmate is to feel as though you are less of a person. At first, Florence seems to play well into this idea — Florence and Krish seem destined for one another, absolutely perfect in their give and take. Suddenly, Florence is again interested in art. She pushes Krish to move forward with his music and go to school. Krish cleans up his messy room and Florence finds joy in things she never cared about before. Faster than either of them realize, they are falling for one another. The puzzle piece segments of their conversations — initially complex and difficult, with the pieces tiny and ill-fitting — become easier and easier until their final conversation consists of only two pieces to the puzzle, and they kiss.

Conversations play out without words, the effect entirely produced by the art and puzzle piece segments.

Their relationship is whirlwind, and it is not until they move in with one another that we begin to see the faltering cracks of the relationship, the stresses of being in love, the emotional labor presented in the idea that these two are somehow supposed to be together. While Florence actively pushes Krish forward in his dreams to be a famous and renowned musician, her own desire to be an artist is delayed. Krish gifts her some watercolors and suggests that she paint, but there is an uneven facet to their support. Florence makes sacrifices; Krish continues on.

A year passes in their relationship, and the two are comfortable but unhappy. Life, and their budding relationship, is no longer exciting. Krish is still playing music but his pieces are discordant and sloppy. Florence has not picked up a pencil in months, and her gifted watercolor set is buried beneath papers on her desk. When the two finally have their big fight, we see the puzzle pieces again — the pieces are jagged and red, and the pieces fall into place easier and faster than they ever have before.

As their relationship falls apart and they eventually move on, there is that initial feeling of heartbreak. Florence is despondent and alone, and a part of her misses Krish. Their map of the city, lovingly decorated with snapshots of their adventures together, ends up in the trash. It seems for a fraction of a moment that Florence might return to her depression and her normalcy — that is until she picks up her art again, and it becomes a focus. She paints and paints, she redoes her room into an art studio, she posts her work, she gains acclaim, and suddenly she doesn’t need her day job anymore. Her art becomes her life and she’s good, and it isn’t until her last day of work when she finds a Polaroid of herself and Krish that she thinks of him and their time together, and what it meant to her.

Every moment of Florence unfolds with beautiful pieces of art.

I haven’t been in a romantic relationship in seven years. My last one ended badly, and I was struck with that all-too-familiar sentiment of “no one will love you until you love yourself.” This statement is wrong and untrue on all accounts, but is another showcase of the difficulty of love — the way we love ourselves is often indicative of how we love others, but not always. The process of self-love and exploration of the self is the most monumental relationship in life. Too many of us bury that level of internal exploration with external relationship after external relationship, hoping that somehow the effort of being heavily involved with another person will take our minds off our struggles. It will, for a while.

While Florence examines relationships in a bittersweet light, I was grateful that the climax involved that sort of self-care and exploration of personal needs that is so rarely examined in popular media. Krish and Florence could have perhaps solved the problems of their relationship with more personal honesty and expectation, but they are both young and their dreams outweigh each other — as they should.

The words come all too easily during a fight.

Relationships are a lot of hard work. They take an enormous amount of time and care, and it is rare that any one of us comes at a relationship with the full knowledge of how to make it work. It’s give and take, it’s love and loss, but most importantly it’s about the balance of sticking up for what you want while making simultaneous sacrifices for the wants and needs of your partner. It is this aspect that makes relationships so draining, and often we are left wondering if our choices were selfish or selfless. An ideal relationship would be two people supporting each other while living their lives in parallel, in tandem, creating a bonded support network of love and admiration.

However, if this fails, it is often more complicated than a single person, or even both. Sometimes people grow apart, and what they need is beyond them. This is especially true for creatives, in that what they need is ever-changing and complicated, and the trajectory of their lives can change in an instant.

Florence becomes part of a genre that gives the viewer an omnipresent look at all facets of a relationship, similar to films such as (500) Days of Summer and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, where each moment is layered and dissected and presented in a way that can be digested easily. While we all know that no relationship is so simple, the small and gentle moments that comprise Florence feel genuine and earnest. At the end of Florence and Krish’s relationship, no one seems to be the ‘bad guy.’ While they both made mistakes, their relationship had value, and gave each valuable lessons and love that they had been yearning for.

I found myself loving Florence, not only because of its beautiful style and presentation, but because in its short playtime it truly made me think about my past relationships and my artistic goals. Too often in life we sacrifice our own happiness for the things we think are socially proper or needed, when the things we desire are too difficult to chase after. Our everyday relationships are support systems that we too often take for granted, but ultimately we take ourselves for granted because we all contain fierce motivational power. Every one of us wants to have our big break, to be successful, to create, to dream, to love. Oftentimes the relationships we have with others contain the building blocks for these moments of confidence; even the relationships that are doomed can have things within them that serve as powerful lessons.

When Florence finally considers herself, she grows.

I think if asked, Florence and Krish would answer that they would go through their relationship all over again even knowing that it was doomed. Their breakup, though messy and sad and troubled, leads to anchors in their personal lives — especially for Florence. As she fondly holds up that last Polaroid before putting it away in its box, her expression showcases that relief and confidence — and love.

Florence is truly a beautiful game. While the story is entirely linear, it feels like an interactive short story. I cannot stop thinking about its simple but gorgeous art or the expert design of the narrative flow. The music, the pacing, and the silent expressions between Florence and Krish create a truly unique and breathtaking experience. I hope Ken Wong and his team, who seem incredibly kind and receptive of feedback, continue to develop entries such as this one, because they will soon establish themselves as giants in the medium.

Love is difficult. For yourself, for others. As Florence learns, it’s worth it, as all things are.