In most video games, 'risk vs. reward' is incredibly important to your enjoyment. You wouldn't want to do an incredibly difficult boss/level, and turn up with no story, or even reward for the effort you put in.
In Delicious Emily's Hopes and Fears, you run a mile every day, and then watch toddlers talk to each other for a couple of seconds. And then you have to go back to running a mile.
We have stated in the past that we began our Gamehouse journey with "Sally's Salon: Kiss and Make Up". After playing a disappointing "Fabulous Angela's Fashion Fever", we wanted to go back to the series always highest on the pedestal in the minds of Gamehouse aficionados. The one that started it all...Delicious Emily. But we are not normal gamers. The only way to test that which is held to the highest standards, is to find the one that broke even true fans (or at the very least disappointed them).
But one cannot criticize a story without first criticizing the page it was written on. And thus we begin with the abhorrent gameplay.
Delicious Emily's Hopes and Fears begins with the now growing familiar time management setup, with too little explanation, but a simple enough premise in the end that it is playable once you get used to it. The music is the usual drawling piddle that loops for about 10 seconds, but is bearable. While some of what you're doing seems silly, it's not bad, all things considered.
Enter the Lumber Mill, the second level of the game.
In Fabulous Angela's Fashion Fever, I once complained about the "stocking" activities that are required for you to make certain products. You have to walk halfway across the map to get a feather or pebble in order to fashion a bracelet, etc.
It seems Gamehouse must have been listening through the walls, and actively designed the Lumber Mill with the intention of driving me mad.
The Lumber Mill has, at its most advanced level, 4 different types of wood that you are constantly required to stock in order to whittle objects that are expected from you within a few seconds, in addition to maintaining a restaurant. And just my luck, there is a several second delay between logs flowing down the channel of each variety, thus making stocking them in batches last minute nearly impossible. The impatience of these customers for on-demand whittling is horrific. Need I remind you that whittling is a skill that takes time, effort, resources, and skill that I, as a lowly sous chef, do not have the ability to do?
On top of my scrambling around for wood, the music is probably the most maddening thing I have ever heard. Yes, a 10 second loop as I suspected, of the most chipper Country Bear Jamboree tune actively deepening my seething rage.
The amount of times I had to reset a level simply because I hadn't stocked the wood right at the beginning, or the music was making me lose focus... I was Mozart at the piano dying of hair loss. At some point I had to turn the music off entirely and loop Imagine Dragons' "Friction" just to get it done, despite the fact that I hate Imagine Dragons as well.
Somehow, despite acting as if I was dealing with The Telltale Heart, I had made it to the flower shop.
You would think when a game tells you: "You can upgrade this!" that it would help you to upgrade said thing. Delicious Emily's Hopes and Fears spits in your face at that remark. I had done okay up to this point with upgrading my menu, with the occasional confused wrong order because I didn't notice tomatoes on a panini. But the flower shop really made me reconsider my abilities.
Even at its most basic level, the Sunflower Bouquet / all subsequent Bouquets are a headache. I am playing on a large ASUS monitor, NOT a phone, and I can't even see what I got wrong by the time I try and deliver the finished bouquet to the customer. Impossibly over-specific, and demanding, is what it is.
You might read all this and think me a wimp. A loser who can't handle a challenge. But when I broke the game looping a triple click on a yak's nipples, I think I have the right to complain.
Despite the challenges being technically optional, they are quite the opposite, if you think there to be any value in upgrading items, or upgrading your basic shop counters, tables, etc.
Frighteningly enough, this broken system was revealed to me in the Lumber Mill, when, stuck on perhaps the 3rd optional challenge level, I had already completely upgraded the entire shop and all menu items.
By the time you reach the monastery (God forbid), these challenges become more cynical, masochistic, if you will, to the point that you might very well have to look up Gamehouse's convoluted tip on their Youtube channel. At this point the task of completing the normal levels has already become so grueling that it's hard to say no to the extra help ( no matter how bad it is ).
And, if you're anything like me, you probably tried to get Paigey's presents for her, hoping you could glean any more from her life by doing so (which was a hopeless wish, I found).
Now. The story. What all the ashes tumbling down around you amount to.
Many others described this game's story as heartwarming, moving, fantastical, whimsical, even. I suppose I'd be inclined to agree--were I a three year old, and were it not for Patrick's adventures with foreign people.
The at home story with Paige, Emily, and co is about what you expect. Lukewarm, unnecessary fluff that is really more filler than it is story. Paige's mysterious illness is frankly laughable at times, especially if you've ever been to the hospital for any reason. It's almost random, this illness, the backbone of this stiff marshmallow of a plot. Emily is a flake, to be real. I don't know what she was like in the other games, but she puts up with too much of Patrick's B.S. for her to not be cheating on him already...but I guess that's just another Sally-flavored fantasy of mine. The most enjoyable characters are probably Francois, mostly for his cute little sprites trying to keep you awake, and the mother of Paige's little toddler friend, who provides some Sally-like comedic timing, even reminiscent of Dance Moms. But this isn't enough to keep my interest.
With the Lumber Mill being "more than whatever" in terms of story, the rest of Patrick's journey becomes what is blatantly incredibly offensive and insensitive. The most relatable or honest character is Tapeesa's father (until he starts sympathizing with the white man invading his native land). In the Inuit section of the game, there is not only incredibly strange stances on global warming, but the most toddler-friendly version of colonialism that I have ever witnessed. And guess what? It involves chocolate.
For some reason, I don't believe that "what if monks were funny" is really an idea that should ever have been explored. And that concludes the monk section.
On a pure logical standpoint, Patrick's journey makes no sense either on a map of the Earth. I'd really like to see how he drove from Minnesota to Alaska/and or Canada to Tibet (?). Of course this is all speculation, as no exact locations are ever given in clarity.
By what you think is the end of the story, once of course, Paigey's little Diseasey Weasy has been cured with a magic flower, and you want Patrick, Paige, and Emily dead, you still have to play 7 more torturous levels at a big pool party with all the Native people and monks and everyone's lives that you ruined! And that includes 2 challenge levels, because Lord knows Paigey needs her presents and you need the strength for the coming near-impossible levels.
If you're thinking about buying this game, and you aren't willing to torture yourself for 29 hours, just try Sally's Salon: Kiss and Make Up. At the very least the ridiculosity will make you laugh instead of scream.
What more is there to say, Emily?
Patricks don't belong in Alaska.
