I didn’t expect Fishbowl to hit me like this...

A cosy game about moving away, missing people, and learning how to cope

I went into Fishbowl thinking it would be a cosy narrative game I could dip into for a few hours. Something low effort, that I could sit with at the end of the day.

And it is that, on the surface. It’s absolutely beautiful; the pixel art, the colours, the small apartment you spend most of your time in. It all feels gorgeous and familiar in a way cosy games usually do.

But this one… feels a bit too real at times.

You play as Alo, who has just moved away from home to start her first proper job as a video editor; then lockdown hits. She’s stuck working from home in a new city where she doesn’t know anyone yet. And at the same time, she’s dealing with the loss of her grandmother, Jaja, who passed away just a month earlier.

It’s a lot to sit with, and the game doesn’t try to tidy any of it up for you.

What surprised me most is how quickly I started to care about her. I really recognised something of myself in how Alo was coping (or not coping, as the case may be).

Each day, you wake up and decide what Alo can manage around the house. You can make coffee, have breakfast, shower, brush your teeth, water the plants, tidy up, and do a day’s work. Equally, you don’t have to do anything at all if you don’t feel like it.

But you should know that your decisions impact the options you have in actions and dialogue.

There’s a small system running in the background tracking how Alo is doing, and each time you complete a task or activity, a little mental health bar appears above her head (see above), and will go up or down depending on how the activity makes her feel.

Those everyday things like doing the washing up, the ones we’re always told are “good for us”, can really help. Over time, they build into something that looks like recovery for Alo.

From my own experience, I know how much those small routines can affect your mental wellbeing, so I found myself wanting that so badly for the main character.

I made a point of guiding her through the things that might help, like getting up, getting dressed, eating properly, hydrating, taking care of herself where I could.

I was a little bit like Paplet, her toy fish. I really wanted her to feel better.

Sometimes, it worked, but sometimes not. Because then you’d open a box of her grandmother’s things, or come across something that brings a memory rushing back… and suddenly all of that recovery doesn’t feel so steady anymore.

Seeing something in a box, or having a bad dream, could trigger an anxiety attack or a depressive episode, and Alo’s mental health took a nose dive. That felt incredibly true to life.

A lot of the game plays out through video calls with Alo’s mum, her friends, and the people she works with. At first, everything revolves around Alo and what she’s going through. But slowly, you start to notice that everyone else is dealing with things too.

Those calls start to matter more as the game goes on. You realise that checking in, even when it feels small, actually does something for yourself and for the other person.

A problem shared and all that.

I’m really glad I played this when I did.

I’m close to some of my family, but others live far away now, and some aren’t here anymore. Because of that, parts of this hit closer to home than I expected. There were moments where I could feel it creeping up on me.

Which, I think, says everything about what this game is trying to do.

You can pick up Fishbowl on Steam right now with 10% off.