Life Tastes Like Cardboard

I just recently found out about this through a random google search, and on some random reddit page with someone suggesting it. I was glad it was free (downloaded via Steam) but after finding out I could donate, I just had to. I wasn't sure what would be a good price to give it but I gave about as much as I could at this moment. Your game is quite literally a hidden gem, I've never thought I'd ever come across something so profound as this story. Its quite a unique narrative, and it really resonates with me. 

The music was also quite special and really fit the style and themes you were using. It really made me reflect and think about a lot of things.(I cried a decent amount.) Ollie seems more real than most people I've ever known or met. I lament not being able to talk to him more. (Wish I was fortunate enough to have someone like that in my life lol) I played through it twice just for that secret ending.

I hope you're doing better nowadays, and that you're happy, or at least not hitting those lows as often.

Sincerely, PrimordialDoom. <3

One of my friends reccomended this game to me 2 and a half years ago at a party and I seriously regret waiting untill now to play it. This is definitely going to be one of those gamss that marinates my brain and really sinks in. I love it SO much.

[Sorry this comment is so long lol]

Just finished the game, I still have to fully process what happened throughout the game but just WOAH this game is good! I downloaded this game in 2020 and got stuck just before you enter Ollie's house and then got back to it, starting back from the beginning, this year. I must say this is one of the best games I have played. I believe this game is really well made on basically every aspect of it.

The music is amazing and its sound design is REALLY unsettling at times which is perfect, the gameplay is literally the simplest it can get, which allows you to get fully immersed in the story, the gameplay does not get boring in the slightest in my opinion. I always found myself looking at every object just to find out more about Jon and his life and another aspect that I adore in this game is the visual design with some of the most psychologically scary stuff I have seen out there: the faces on walls, the mild gore, distorted figures, glitches, you name it and this game has it. Of course the story is also amazing: I was so intrigued by it and always wanted to know more about Jon, about Ollie, about their friendship and if Jon's mental health was ever going to get better. This is mostly what got me through the most unsettling parts. I wanted to know more about Jon’s family; information which I got throughout the game and is some of the most dark stuff in this game. I wanted to know whether Jon had some bright moments ahead of him, I wanted to listen to more of Jon and Ollie’s philosophical talks about orange juice and dreams

On a more "philosophical" level I guess, this game has a lot of meaning I feel. I always felt like the therapy sessions as transitions had something more to them than just being a transition between chapters and the ending I got proved my suspicions right: therapy wasn't really the right choice for Jon and that "therapist" wasn't actually a good influence. Some chapters have a pretty clear meaning to them but some others I am not sure about, for example, Chapter 3, the Museum Chapter has a clear meaning portraying Jon's fear of being at the centre of attention, on the other hand others are way more abstract like, for example, the Maze Chapter. Overall I find this game really abstract and metaphorical, the majority of it being inside of a dream; this allows you to really reflect on the character’s conditions, on the world we live in and on society. This game sometimes has an almost nihilistic approach to the world, that nothing actually matters, (which is really fitting with the depression related themes in the game) which I find really interesting and new from a storytelling standpoint in video games. 

The ending gave some good insight on Jon’s future: him sitting down just like at the start of the game where he felt overwhelmed by the world and his routine but this time he was followed by Ollie who sat down next to him to provide comfort when he was at an all time low, presumably leaving his therapy sessions behind and falling into a spiral of self hatred and guilt. I feel this is a really well made and poetic way to end the game, acknowledging how Jon is still struggling but now there is someone alongside him to help him out.

I don’t know if someone will actually read through this since it’s so long but I really love this game in its entirety: I could actually write a whole essay on this. And Demensa if you read this, thank you so much for making this Masterpiece and Work of Art.

after completing the game, i had to come back to donate. all i can say is that this is an absolutely amazing experience and it feels criminal that it can be played for free. thank you.

Played on steam, loved the game, really helped me understand things about my mental health. Came over here to pay for the game after completing it. Thank you.

incredible

I love this game. I wonder what's Ollie's whole story

Here's my short review of Life Tastes Like Cardboard

The Positive

- An interesting & moving story dealing with the topics of depression, death, loneliness, memory and mental health.

- Several varied art styles & moods evolving throughout the adventure, from very dark, almost angry and raw to childish and luminous.

- The game puts us in the head and the heart of its creator, as if we were invited to read a secret diary or a confidence of a close friend. It always felt personal and genuine.

- Fantastic sound design & audio experimentations , I liked the industrial tones and noises used here and there. The progression of the music in certain areas was really well done and the sound effects greatly contribute to the overall ambiance.

- I never knew what to expect and that was a good thing, it's easy to fall into general & easy tropes while dealing with subjects like these. You can also tell a lot of attention was put into little details, something that was especially appreciated from this reviewer.

- I enjoyed a lot of the cultural references and suggestions you can find by looking hard enough. I spent nearly an hour digging through the links of the in-game PC.

- An orange-juice rythmn game.

- The small-talk segments remembered me of some people that I truly miss and hit rather close to home, bonus points for that.

- It's 100% free (which is surprising considering the overall quality of the whole thing).

The Negative

- Some areas are a bit confusing to navigate (which fits the theme of the game, it's just not my cup of tea).

- I encountered a small bug with the in-game PC where it would sometimes fail to size properly, making it impossible to leave and explore the rest of the appartment without closing the whole game.

- Some small & random slowdowns at time, nothing major.

Should you play it?

If you are currently looking for a deeply introspective & remarkably original adventure, You should definitely play this game.

I was quite surprised by the Steam store page at first glance and the tons of good reviews but people were right, it was indeed a special experience which I can highly recommend.

Just be warned that it tackles heavy subjects in a highly artistic & personal way and might not be for everyone.

Significant spoilers ahead.

In my experience, many works fail at depicting depression and mental illness, either completely misunderstanding or misrepresenting it or bombarding the viewer with walls of text in an egregious violation of 'show, don't tell'. Similarly, I'm not fond of most "walking simulators", as they often fail to replace compelling game mechanics or a game-driven narrative with something else to chew on: an interesting story, wondrous set pieces, or simply thought-provoking ideas.

And then there's Life Tastes Like Cardboard, a walking simulator so visceral and personal that it perfectly captures the essence of severe mental illness.

Visual abstraction is a powerful tool in achieving this aim. In many chapters, the game has frenetic, childlike art, which may feel offputting at first, but grows on you quickly. The errant pixelated strokes, vague depictions of space and broken perspective and abstract horrors perfectly reflect the neuroses of the artist. This is exhibited right away in the start, where a dreary grey realm closest to 'reality' transforms into a compressed mishmash of familiar dreary set pieces from the lecture hall and the unkempt apartment. The opening act is perhaps the most blunt of these visual metaphors, but it's apt: daily life literally blurs into a meaningless grey continuity of just existing, momentarily broken by the discordant refuge of digital entertainment. You're alive, but not living, existing in a stasis of shambolic obligations of work or school, subsisting on fast food and slumping into a computer chair passively watching the same dozen youtube videos and netflix shows for a dubious dopamine response that grows weaker by the day.

That's just the opening. As the real world and Jon's implied memories, experiences and mental state blend into a mix of dream, mood-altered perception and metaphor, we find other tactful explorations of social anxiety and depression, including:
-An unnerving moment where a glass path in an art museum puts Jon on display in a transparent box as an 'art piece', as passerbys wander forward and ogle him.

-Traversing a labyrinth and encountering a maze without a solution, forcing Jon to backtrack to another impossible maze that he simply phases through to complete the level.

-Bookstores full of peculiar, evolving titles on the shelves, with an attendant who constantly verbally accosts Jon to leave the premises.

-An esoteric and confusing 'museum', each with its own unique rules, most notably one where it would literally take infinite time to traverse to the other side of the room.

-A distorted village that flips the camera, revealing previously unseen, and often horrifying new things.

-The therapist is a cardboard cutout, and has nothing meaningful to reply with despite Jon's engagement with him.

-Jon's sprite often evolves based on the aesthetic of the current chapter, and often in a meaningfully representative way.

This is the essence of showing not telling. And for all the dialogue that does exist in the game (and there's plenty of it), it continues to give us a window into Jon's mind without the exposition ever getting too clumsy. The sessions with Rem grant small insights into Jon's past and present, ranging from subtle hints, to more descriptive explorations of the sources and nature of his anxiety. Jon's conversations with Ollie are also insightful and relatable: awkward pleasantries on gentle topics that somehow evolve into deeper conversation, akin to how I made friends back when I understood how to do so.

One might argue Jon's confession to Ollie in his home, or the Sick Enough arcade cabinet may have done the previous tactful encounters with Ollie and Rem a disservice, but given both are situated near the end of the game, rather than a tedious monologue, it comes off as brutal reckoning that drops the pretense of implication for an explicit confrontation with accumulated thoughts, many of which are frighteningly resonant with myself.

I guess this is all to say that Life Tastes Like Cardboard is effective when its being blunt and when its being subtle.

Interestingly, Life Tastes Like Cardboard was well designed around player experience in subtle ways. For instance, in the Sick Enough arcade game, the distance covered is always just enough for the text to be written out and read by the player, wasting no time. Its a subtle bit of excellent user experience so effective that you don't even notice it unless you pay attention. Similarly, the game tactically accelerates the introductory chapters without sacrificing the message, truncating the protracted trip from the bedroom to the classroom by the third outing, which in it of itself has metaphorical value in terms of how the world is perceived by a depressed individual: time blurs in this gray world.

A highly visual experience feels wasted without a proper soundtrack, and Life Tastes Like Cardboard has an excellent one. The somber guitar in Class I-III evolves beautifully into Jon's Theme, the main melody practically wailing in anguish as you explore a deteriorating reality terminating in a steady, heavy-hearted, low key rhythm. The Most Important Thing dances about in melancholic wonder, making you feel as though you're touching upon something sacred, nostalgic and beautiful as you collect journal-like memories. Most strikingly, the sickening murmurs of Drama and Drama II accompany exploration of a desert of vagrants and a decrepit hospital of static and death, before culiminating in a jaw-dropping crescendo in Drama III, where in the Dental Ward, victims and monsters writhe in real and imagined atrocities, depicted as if transcribed with a marker in the quivering hands of an innocent child. This escalation, music-wise, constitutes 19 minutes of continual evolution that invokes a similar soul-wrenching despair I'd hear on a Godspeed You! Black Emperor album.

Intriguing visuals, evolving set pieces, easter eggs and excellent, fitting music are all great, but my appreciation for this project wouldn't be so intense for it if it weren't for the last aspect: how deeply personal the project seems to be.

This notion is hinted at. X's are used to tastefully redact certain information, such as Jonathan's last name, or the names of bands that appeal to him. Moreover, the creator himself has stated that the game is semi-autobiographical, which admittedly is almost alarming given revalations of two family suicides, a children's book with a brutal progression and the final whimper of the climax: plain white text on a black rectangle implying a most tragic outcome.

Why is it that I can empathize so strongly with some of the content here? Why is it that the dialogue feels so real? Why is it that my heart drops as I enter the Dental Ward? Why do some of the lines in Sick Enough hurt so badly? Why is it that the dancing colors of Ollie's realm fill me with the same solace, despair and wonder as a powerful memory where I biked miles from my college campus, to find an endless sea of languishing suburbs, sparse woods and plains, indescribable beauty and hope dancing hand-in-hand sorrow and nostalgia?

It's because of how personal this game is. It is frighteningly intimate. I became most clearly aware of this in the chapter of Ollie's visit, exploring files on Jon's computer. Bravely and vunerably, Demensa had given us a window into his world, a rich glimpse into one's inner life so close I feel as if I'm an intruder stepping into a sanctuary lost to the ages. Despite social anxiety, individual people are a fascination to me: it's a wonder to think that on a busy street, immediately around you, hundreds of people are living their lives. Their complicated, unique story had momentarily intersected with mine, and perhaps never again. What were their experiences like? What brought them to this moment? Peering through old pieces of Jon's (or Demensa's) art, photos from two decades ago and fragments of music, I had found an answer to that question that I never had before, vicariously exploring another person's life in a way I'm not sure I'll ever experience again.

This intimacy lends not only credence, but authenticity to these cathartic representations of Demensa's experiences, and by extension, the fundamental experience of depression, anxiety and mental illness. And to his credit, he also understands that mental illness isn't an all absorbing monster. It is a shadow that recedes, lunges, persists and fades; the darkness waxes and wanes. There are bright spots. The grassy field upon which Jon first encounters Ollie is punctuated by the chiptune march Track and Field that brims with momentum and hope. Whatever Comes To Mind, a wandering, comfortable and distinctly 'video game' tune reminiscent of comfortable blanket-couch titles like Animal Crossing accompanies a loveable sequence where Ollie and Jon hold pleasant conversation. The almost heaven-like pencil-on-paper look of Ollie's visit to Jon's apartment, accompanied with the glowing, atmospheric Is It Really Me returns us to an almost angelic solace contrasting the nightmarish conclusion of the previous chapter. And of course, the mesmerizing black hole Sunset of Ollie's world, set to his theme, a warm guitar that explodes into a lo-fi cathartic melody and breaking waves that in potent sorrow, reaffirms the delicate joy that is being alive.

What links these bright moments are a pervasive melancholy, often implied through the music itself and gameplay-wise through the impermanence of each chapter. In sparse few chapters do we find genuine joy, or at least, clarity, support or calmer contemplation is afforded. These moments are noticeable (in game, and in real life), and are cherished. But as always, we can't seem to linger in these spaces forever. The clock turns, our minds do awful things, the world changes, and we're thrown back into a frightening unknown. Jon says it best in his confession to Ollie: "I know I'm going to have to leave soon and I-I'm scared, Ollie. I don't want to leave."

Because when we leave, what can await us is frightening. The all-consuming climax opens with a distorted realm, reminiscent of the one from the opening chapter, only this time, Rem and his office are the recurring motif, rather than the classroom and apartment, accented, by dismaying, erratic red streaks. The musical introduction is meandering, almost directionless, settling upon radio static-like harmonies before erupting into an extremely loud, distorted repetition of that interlude as the terrain shifts and distorts violently. Jon's sprite is literally falling apart. Scathing, mocking commentary is offered by the monstrous Rems. Somewhere in the distance, the cadence wails once more like a dying bird. Cruel visions of death and suicide line the path, which becomes hard to navigate. The track stutters and thrashes, returns to a miserable melody reminiscent of Pigmented Triad (which preceded this scene) before finally settling on an uneasy repetition. The pain of loss has hit Ollie hard, and the heartbreak moment in The Quiet Kitten makes a reappearance. The music's repetition continues as more static and noise builds, each step getting harder to take, the pain of existence accumulating, the heavier it all becomes until...

'I'm so sorry and I understand if you can't forgive me.'

...

As someone who has idealized his own suicide once, I'd like to think Demensa meaningfully made sure not to end the game with that sentence as the last word. The cardboard of Rem's room falls away, and Jon sits down with Ollie (holding hands, if you've done your due diligence). The fact that Demensa, is still making art to this day on his Twitter is a thankful reminder that this project is not a beautifully elaborate suicide note, but a cathartic exploration of the furthest depths of depression, how it distorts one's perception of the world, and most importantly, the precious people and moments of hope and wonder that help us keep fighting through it.

Alright I had to make a account to comment on this game. I found this on steam while looking for dumb free games and saw its name pop up and honestly thought that it was gonna be something stupid like a cardboard eating simulator. Little did I know I just walked in on a f*cking masterpiece of a game. I started up the game and was immediately amazed at the art style, it is simple yet cool and effective in portraying the mood of a scene. Once the game started getting fucked up and spooky It got scary and interesting. I played the game half way through before I had to go to bed and it had me excited to wake up in the morning to play again. The game design is wonderful all the fantastic little details like lights casting shadows and the hung bodies swinging when tapped where amazing. And all the level changes always had me exited to se how I would maneuver to the next. It also had some of the best damn dialog I've seen in years the conversations with Ollie just seemed so genuine and real it was amazing. And the ambiance in all the levels was fantastic, in fact some of them had me shaking in my seat lol. And the art style changes when going into Ollie's dream where amazing. It was buetiful and hard to just not sit there and look at every line. And the ending i loved too, just a black screne and you and your friend hugging then going to the credits. Beautiful. And apparently this is your first game? I still have a hard time believing that the game was wonderfully designed and I was never lost on where to go to (except for the maze map) but all the levels worked together flawlessly and made the game fun and easy to move through. For your first game its amazing and I hope to hear that there may be something else coming soon because I would love to see more from you, you are simply amazing. I feel like this game deserves more recognition and praise and I want to share it with all my friends. Thank you for making this wonderful game keep on keeping on

Oh man really good I say it is a good project 
I just can't say something I can only say WOOOW
It's so specific I love that graphic style and music so well when you just go-go-go to-to-to place after then another place 'then other place... and that all like non-stop all your mind is full of one thought find the fuckin' way and see what'll be next
It's cool really cool and the best part: cool story (storytelling too cool and sad, ending is so depressive) in some moments I-I just think 'that me? that really like me!' IDK how you made this but I just can say IT'S DAMN-GREAT-GAME Man!

hope you're in a better place now and doing well <3 

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