i was enamored with eastshade from the start. echoes reminiscent of mirrowind and miasmata furthered my curiosity and pushed me through the first bit of gating: the town you wash ashore upon. here you play as a stranger in a strange land, spoken of by your mother, whose memories inspired your trip to the titular destination, eastshade. the thrust of the game is simple: paint four paintings, each one of something that was precious to her.

as a painter you survive and navigate by your trade, and eastshade is built around this. you paint commissions inbetween odd favors to make your way, and this is where the game shines. exploration & character work, with simple systems of gathering and crafting. the game jars at times when all of this intersects and you're reminded you're playing a game: when you suddenly have to pay a toll to cross a bridge, or when you need to get three letters of recommendations to enter a city.

there's an antagonism there in the game, where the idyllic is punctuated by the transactional nature of what you do in the game. but it never felt dishonest. the game peaked for me when i felt like i had broken out beyond the progress gates. when i was being given tools for deeper exploration: the bicycle, the coat, and the rail-line. the greatest joy i had was realizing just how good the bicycle was. the greatest bicycle in games.

unfortunately some terrible save-eating bugs plagued the gamepass release and i lost an immense amount of progress numerous times, even after the patch. these bugs wore down the ability i had to further explore the space and by the time things were sorted, i was already prepared to end the game quickly.

but eastshade, despite all of my woes, impressed me in its final moment. so many games lack a notion of continuity, that what happened took place and made an impact. going home and seeing the letter sent in the mail, of the people you helped, was something special. continuity, continuity, continuity.