On paper, it’s a recipe that seems like it should work well: an abstract danmaku where the “bosses” are emotions and the bullet patterns reflect the feeling of experiencing that emotion. Given such an inherently unique and interesting premise (I’m sure you’re already imagining all sorts of fascinating ways this idea could be developed on), it’s a shame that in My MIND can’t quite find an engaging angle to approach any of its components from.
As a danmaku, in My MIND stumbles out of the door pretty immediately. All but one of the 18 total stages share the exact same background, which would not necessarily be a problem for an obviously low-budget project like this, if not for the fact that this background constantly has haphazard particle effects whizzing by all over the screen for absolutely no reason at all. They’re never thematic, they never indicate anything, it’s just extra visual noise that I can only assume must be there to help make the blank black void that is the entire game’s background feel a little more dynamic than 1978’s Space Invaders. In any other danmaku, this would be a death sentence; these are games where bullets fill the screen, so having clear visibility of what’s safe and what’s dangerous is critical during every single microsecond of play. in My MIND, however, skirts this problem entirely by not posing any particular challenge at all until about halfway through its optional second playthrough. The most difficult thing in this game is how every single bullet the bosses shoot out are only ever a single color and leave behind their own trails of identically-colored superfluous particle effects, making for regular instances of not exactly being able to tell where a particular bullet is headed or even where its hitbox is hidden inside of these monochrome clouds. In this way, the extra visual noise in the background doesn’t actually impact the game too much, but it’s only because there’s not all that much for it to impact in the first place… Not a great position to be in. In a game about internal struggles and mental turmoil, having every single boss be a breeze to get past almost makes it feel like a parody made by the kind of guy who’d say things like “pick yourself up by your bootstraps.”
The only thing that lets me know this isn’t a parody of mental health issues is that the game takes itself so stone-cold seriously. Every single boss has a single line of dialogue to introduce itself, posed as the kind of troublesome thoughts a person would think to themselves, then upon defeat a resolution to the thought is offered. Anyone who has actually struggled with troubling or self-destructive thoughts likely chuckled at the simplicity of this and you’d be right to. It comes across with the same tactlessness as the kinds of tweets that blow up every now and then saying things like “you’re valid and nobody can tell you otherwise 💜,” which is so intangibly vague that it can’t really mean anything to anyone. The sentiment is obviously coming from a place of caring and consideration - and of course there’s many times where consoling someone is more important than trying to address the root of an issue at any particular moment - but this game seems to be posing these “well, it’s actually fine though,” remarks as though they are capable of resolving the conflicts they’re addressing. Dressing it up in prosaic one-liners does not make them more effective.
All of this coalesces in the boss fights against the negative emotions prompting these thoughts, like Loneliness or Hopelessness. As mentioned earlier, the bullet patterns attempt to represent how it feels to deal with these thoughts. At best they’re predictably shallow, at worst they’re completely unrelated. Confusion’s bullets bounce around the screen making for unpredictable patterns, but Shame just has a fairly nondescript mathematical sequence. Where my heart sank is when I saw bosses starting to copy previous bosses patterns. The emotions trying to be represented here are all pretty distinct from each other, it’s not like there’s an especially compelling thematic reason for them to be recycling old patterns, and there’s no excuse for some of them to just be doing regular danmaku patterns that have little to do with the associated feeling. The premise of representing negative feelings as danmaku patterns is all this game has, and it doesn’t even seem all that interested in exploring it.
Ultimately, this game is trying to wield mature themes in a style of game renowned for its inspired and creative ways of treating the screen like a canvas, but unfortunately it just doesn’t seem familiar or comfortable enough with either of these aspects to build anything cohesive on its framework.
As a danmaku, in My MIND stumbles out of the door pretty immediately. All but one of the 18 total stages share the exact same background, which would not necessarily be a problem for an obviously low-budget project like this, if not for the fact that this background constantly has haphazard particle effects whizzing by all over the screen for absolutely no reason at all. They’re never thematic, they never indicate anything, it’s just extra visual noise that I can only assume must be there to help make the blank black void that is the entire game’s background feel a little more dynamic than 1978’s Space Invaders. In any other danmaku, this would be a death sentence; these are games where bullets fill the screen, so having clear visibility of what’s safe and what’s dangerous is critical during every single microsecond of play. in My MIND, however, skirts this problem entirely by not posing any particular challenge at all until about halfway through its optional second playthrough. The most difficult thing in this game is how every single bullet the bosses shoot out are only ever a single color and leave behind their own trails of identically-colored superfluous particle effects, making for regular instances of not exactly being able to tell where a particular bullet is headed or even where its hitbox is hidden inside of these monochrome clouds. In this way, the extra visual noise in the background doesn’t actually impact the game too much, but it’s only because there’s not all that much for it to impact in the first place… Not a great position to be in. In a game about internal struggles and mental turmoil, having every single boss be a breeze to get past almost makes it feel like a parody made by the kind of guy who’d say things like “pick yourself up by your bootstraps.”
The only thing that lets me know this isn’t a parody of mental health issues is that the game takes itself so stone-cold seriously. Every single boss has a single line of dialogue to introduce itself, posed as the kind of troublesome thoughts a person would think to themselves, then upon defeat a resolution to the thought is offered. Anyone who has actually struggled with troubling or self-destructive thoughts likely chuckled at the simplicity of this and you’d be right to. It comes across with the same tactlessness as the kinds of tweets that blow up every now and then saying things like “you’re valid and nobody can tell you otherwise 💜,” which is so intangibly vague that it can’t really mean anything to anyone. The sentiment is obviously coming from a place of caring and consideration - and of course there’s many times where consoling someone is more important than trying to address the root of an issue at any particular moment - but this game seems to be posing these “well, it’s actually fine though,” remarks as though they are capable of resolving the conflicts they’re addressing. Dressing it up in prosaic one-liners does not make them more effective.
All of this coalesces in the boss fights against the negative emotions prompting these thoughts, like Loneliness or Hopelessness. As mentioned earlier, the bullet patterns attempt to represent how it feels to deal with these thoughts. At best they’re predictably shallow, at worst they’re completely unrelated. Confusion’s bullets bounce around the screen making for unpredictable patterns, but Shame just has a fairly nondescript mathematical sequence. Where my heart sank is when I saw bosses starting to copy previous bosses patterns. The emotions trying to be represented here are all pretty distinct from each other, it’s not like there’s an especially compelling thematic reason for them to be recycling old patterns, and there’s no excuse for some of them to just be doing regular danmaku patterns that have little to do with the associated feeling. The premise of representing negative feelings as danmaku patterns is all this game has, and it doesn’t even seem all that interested in exploring it.
Ultimately, this game is trying to wield mature themes in a style of game renowned for its inspired and creative ways of treating the screen like a canvas, but unfortunately it just doesn’t seem familiar or comfortable enough with either of these aspects to build anything cohesive on its framework.