Blink and you’ll miss it…

This is a reflection of some ideas that surfaced after playing the game Before Your Eyes. It is not a deep dive on the themes or narrative of the game itself but rather an examination of some of its moments and connection to my real experiences. There will be no major spoilers beyond the premise as well as a description of one specific scene, the context around it will be mostly omitted. The game can be completed in under 2 hours and I highly encourage you to go experience it before reading further.  

Before Your Eyes is an independent game released in 2021 by GoodbyeWorld Games that begins after you are already dead, in a sort of limbo and judgement stage of the afterlife. You’re fished out of the river of souls by a rough but charming coyote ferryman who explains the situation. You are then explained how this judgement will work: you will relive your life in order so your actions and accomplishments can be judged. 

You won’t be doing this with any controller though. The game’s intended input methods are simply a mouse to control your camera and a webcam to record your physical, in real life blinks of your eyes.  Every time you blink, time will skip ahead in the life of this character. Your life. The skip could be 5 minutes, or it could be 5 years. You cannot go back once it’s done. 

“And just, try to enjoy it this time” – the coyote man says before sending you back to your infancy and begin the journey through the life of Benjamin “Benny” Brynn. Your life. 

A novel and interesting premise surely, and one that would be worthy of praise just for the narrative let alone the ingenuity of having an input method being your actual blinks. Off topic but it’s also a huge win for accessibility and an input method I really would love to see more utilized. Anyway, back to the real topic. This idea of life skipping away without you is something that’s been weighing heavily on me. I’ve always been really sensitive to media that showcases memory and it’s tendency to be lost or recollection to become difficult whether it be due to sickness, age or even as a response to trauma.

Indulge me on this detour from my own memories, I swear it’s connected. When I was young, maybe 8 to 10 years old, my family took a trip across state lines to California. We stayed at a typical beach-side hotel. Spent time at the beach, ate seafood that I didn’t care for, and on one of the days we made the typical trip to Disneyland. It was early morning on a partly cloudy day when we arrived at the park gates. Later, a hefty breeze joined the cloudy weather while we were in line for what I now know was the Matterhorn ride. It was pouring rain when we were outside the gates waiting for the bus back to the hotel. 

Memories in between these specific moments are lost to me. I’ve been told several stories of events, character meetings, and events within the park that I participated in; however, replaying the day’s memories in my mind the events skip straight to those three moments I mentioned. The gates arriving, the line for the ride, and the gates leaving. I’ve tried to piece it all together, memories as cloudy as the day itself was, in the hope of building more connective tissue to complete the day as a whole memory and experience. It’s seemingly just gone. 

I remember the sounds of the crowd going through the entrance clearly. There was an older couple with very bright flamboyant Mickey Mouse themed attire in front of us (not exactly shocking given the location). I remember while in line for the Matterhorn, having a sticker from the animated Pocahontas and being a bit of a troublemaker at that age, I decided to stick it onto one of the poles of the fence on the outside of the ride during a stagnant moment. I remember my mother’s sky blue umbrella protecting both of us from the ever increasing rainfall as we left the park

All these moments are together as one memory, but with noticeable gaps. For years I often told people “yeah I’ve been to Disneyland…but I don’t remember it”.

Early on in Before Your Eyes, while you’re viewing your young teen years, there’s a scene in which the rowdy neighbor girl who moved in not long ago asks you to sneak out and camp under the stars. You ignore the big event you have the following morning and join her, each of you in sleeping bags looking up at the night sky. You stargaze together as she shares her feelings about her move to this town and dissatisfaction with life (as young teens do). 

As you listen you start connecting lines between the stars with your gaze. Simple lines at first but it doesn’t take long to realize you’re attempting to make words in the sky. This moment can feel considerably tense as at this point in the game you’re aware how these skips work and have likely missed a few conversations and moments just from your natural need to blink. You know any blink will send you further ahead in time, missing anything that may follow. The chance of missing your new friend opening up to you or perhaps the reason why you are even writing in the sky. The words in the sky are no mystery or long drawn out secret. Even before you complete any full letter it’s clear what’s being written: “STAY HERE “

Stay Here? Stay on this beach? Stay in this moment? Stay young and innocent? None of this or even the message itself is addressed in the game or by any character, it’s just for you. You fight your tiring eyes to finish drawing these words, just to hang on to whatever you can. To stay here just a little bit longer. 

We don’t get to choose what memories we keep. We can always, of course, hope that what falls through the cracks of recollection are trivial and inconsequential but not knowing what is or will be lost is anything but reassuring. At least that’s if you’re as insecure about memory as I am. As we grow older we become more and more aware of how fast all this existence moves and moves and moves before it all slips away, and we blink ahead. 

Dim take I know, but without giving away anything major about the game it does inevitably touch on the outcome of this all. The ticking of the metronome does not pause for us. Like I mentioned previously, I’ve been very sensitive to topics surrounding memory and my response is usually one of sadness and negativity, but going through the life of this fictional character left me with a completely different feeling. It’s strangely motivating, I don’t get to choose what moments I myself will be saved within the flashes or glimpses of people around me. At the very least I truly hope the moments of me that grace the flashes of memory of others are happy ones. 

And for the record I have been to Disneyland later as an adult. It’s neat. Try the grilled cheese.