Dear Esther is a critically acclaimed experimental title, telling the story of a soul whose memory is washed away by the shores of the island he stands on. From the player's perspective, you are no more than a lonely person on an island lost from the world map, eradicated from reality with no communication to reach you or the outside world, if there is one. It's just you, the island, and your forgotten memories which you try to regain by taking a step to every single corner of this delusion-seeming place.
Hereon is my journey, a diary and experience of mine written in bits and pieces while adjusting myself as the lost soul in a story titled: Dear Esther.
If you have not played the game and you don't intend to, read on.
Otherwise, consider yourself warned.
- SPOILERS AHEAD -
I came to consciousness at what seemed to be an abandoned house nearby a beach. My feet stood just a couple of inches away from the presumably cold water. It was a jetty that sinks back into the water. The sea stretches ever so far away that it seems an eternity's swim is still insufficient to land me anywhere above water level. Looming over was a sky of gray clouds, a bleak atmosphere if you were to ask me. A line of light or two touched the ground at a far distance, hinting that the sun only graces the vegetation here ever so rarely. I moved to the abandoned house.
Inside was nothing but a mess of empty paint cans. On one of the walls was a hand-painted drawing that brings chemistry classes to memory. I found nothing else, only more used cans that have probably dried up from ages ago. The dust was thick in there, I couldn't help but to get out just moments later. Next to the house begins a trek that leads me either down to the beach or up above the cliff. I chose the former.
The water was clearer than the saying 'crystal clear', the wind howled a sense of emptiness as I continued to walk aimlessly. A dialogue then appeared, with a man's voice narrating what text that he must've written in a letter invisible to my eyes. Below marks the first fragment of revelation:
Dear Esther. I sometimes feel as if I’ve given birth to this island. Somewhere,
between the longitude and latitude a split opened up and it beached remotely here.
No matter how hard I correlate, it remains a singularity, an alpha point in my life that
refuses all hypothesis. I return each time leaving fresh markers that I hope, in the full
glare of my hopelessness, will have blossomed into fresh insight in the interim.
It was not long until I bumped into a drawing in the sands that looks very much like the figure '6', or '9' if you look at it the other way around. I simply have no ideas what it meant, so I pushed on. In the far distance, I could see an aerial that shines a bright red at the tip of it. The light comes and goes once after a few seconds has made their pass, the crimson is the only thing that defends the meaning of 'color' itself.
What happened next became blurry to me as my memory fails to serve. However, I do recall walking through thick vegetation. The rustlings of the wind made me feel the chillness in the air. Stranded, lonely and with very little energy to push on, it feels like the entire world is a grim place. Plants were rich on the island, but barely any colored themselves green. I must've received a letter or two, in which I have completely forgotten, so pardon this failure on my part though I would expect more of this to come. Memory is such a vague thing.
Before I stumbled upon a cave, this letter was narrated to me. Any meaning that is embedded within is lost to me for the apparent reason that what it reveals is only meant to reveal as much as it meant to.
I quote directly: “A motley lot with little to recommend them. I have now spent three
days in their company that is, I fear, enough for any man not born amongst them.
Despite their tedious inclination to quote scripture, they seem to me the most
godforsaken of all the inhabitants of the outer isles. Indeed, in this case, the very
gravity of that term – forsaken by god – seems to find its very apex.” It appears to me
that Donnelly too found those who wander this shoreline to be adrift from any chance
of redemption. Did he include himself in that, I wonder?
Donnely is the writer of a book called A Hebridian History. His name seems to make an appearance in more of the narrations.
Ah right, coming back to where I was, the cave. Inside it is awfully dark, as if the night casted its shadows upon the dwelling place of an unknown person. I found more empty paint cans, bread leftovers, rotten fish and what seemed to be a change of clothes. Old clothes. Parts of the wall were painted in tron blue with more molecular structures. There were also a picture representing a neuron synapse. I tried to figure what it might mean, but my efforts were washed away by the anonymity of the entire story. What perplexed me even further was a painting that resembled a tree. Breaking away from this reality for a second, it reminded me of Yggdrasil, an immense tree found in the Norse mythology. Intended or not, each scene of the game seems to suggest something that my mind would quickly frown at, then wander to things that I found similar.
Exiting the cave, I headed upstream and came by a gathering of rocks. They remind me of Stonehenge, except that this one isn't as huge nor as neatly placed. The central rock, for whatever reason, bore another molecular structure, except that it is painted in white this time. Just like how you would take a picture with a beautiful background in it, the sunlight pierced through clouds and made sightseeing a magnificent watch. As much as I would love to embrace the warmth that each sun ray has to offer, my feet would not carry me as far, though my heart must've yearn to go the distance. Else, I wouldn't even be here.
Walking as if the day would never give way to the night, I came across a carcass of a ship. Putting my foot forward, the narrator relieved me a little of my curiosity- I think Esther must have been a very precious person to this lost soul, and that she lost Esther to a car accident. If you look back at one of the earlier screenshots where Paul was mentioned, it becomes slightly more transparent that he could be the root cause of this entire insanity.
I cannot stress enough how beautiful the environment is. It's so well crafted that it gives you the vibes just right for the entire storytelling session. Brilliant, just brilliant.
After visiting the remains of the ship, I left the place empty-handedly. Or that was what I thought. Moments later came a narration that details the relationship between Esther and the nameless soul.
I had kidney stones, and you visited me in the hospital. After the operation, when I
was still half submerged in anaesthetic, your outline and your speech both blurred.
Now my stones have grown into an island and made their escape and you have
been rendered opaque by the car of a drunk.
What charnel house lies at the foot of this abyss?
How many dead shepherds could fill this hole?
As the narration came to an end, I was greeted by an uphill climb. I haven't the slightest clue as to why there are rocks decorated around the path I was to walk on. Believe me or not, the length felt like a year's journey, one year's worth of spiritual cleansing. Perhaps I would find salvation as I draw myself closer to the aerial, to the red light. Along the way I had a narration or two about Jakobson, a herder who lived on the very same island in the past. The hut belongs to him, for he built the bothy in hopes of having a property in order to marry. His hardwork proved to be fruitful, but his untimely death caught him off-guard just two years following its completion.
After passing by the hut (in the picture), I descended the hill through a small path behind it. The cliff invited fear of heights, but I brushed it off immediately. I tried to concentrate on the route ahead of me that grows narrower by the minute but the beaming silence makes it harder to take another step. Deep inside me, I wish the narration would never stop; it was the only thing that is alive in this forbidding place. The following kept me going, I believe it refers to Donnelly.
He left his body to the medical school and was duly opened out for a crowd of
students twenty-one days after his passing. The report is included in my edition of his
book. The syphilis had torn through his guts like a drunk driver, scrambling his
organs like eggs on a plate. But enough definition remained for a cursory
examination and, as I suspected, they found clear evidence of kidney stones. He is
likely to have spent the last years of his life in considerable pain: perhaps this is the
root of his laudanum habit. Although its use makes him an unreliable witness, I find
myself increasingly drawn into his orbit.
I finally made it down to the shore where a cave opened up to my presence. My memory went hazy from here on as all I could remember was hearing a distorted music that sings painfully in my ears. The next thing I knew, I dropped in a hole inside the cave and woke up with the following sight:
Breathtakingly beautiful.
To me, walking inside that cave was equivalent to going for a stroll. The naturally formed stalagmites and stalactites were gave a sort of personality to the cave instead of having it bare. With nowhere left to go, I took a leap of faith into the little pool at the bottom of the waterfall- and survived without injuries.
As I dived in, water filled my sight and auditory system, rendering me less aware of the current moment. All I know was I needed air and I needed it quick. I swam to the surface, caught my breath and ventured on with yet another trailing cave that led me upwards.
Walking through the cave's cracks and narrow paths in the dark wasn't exactly my idea of exploring, though the adventure is still a refreshing one. Mushrooms and bio-luminescent algae and fungi both grows along the walls of the cave, illuminating the way for my weary eyes. The further I go on, the lower the ceiling seems to drop which forced me to crawl at certain places. On certain walls, more paintings were drawn with the introduction of physics this time. I mean, there were images of electrical circuits. I see resistors a lot, could they mean something..?
It felt to me the cave was endless. From passage to passage, I kept walking until my feet hurt from the rocky stones, my fingers and arm tire from all the keyboard-mouse coordination. Yet, I continued to go further. At a certain point, swimming became something I had to often do to cross from point A to point B. While going underwater in dark caves (in reality) is not something I'd deliberately try, the idea of doing this in the game is enough to shun me away from what possibility left of me discovering the real thing.
I also realized something. Pits became common. Still, jumping down just because I have nowhere else to go freaks me out. Is it because I am a soul that I should have no fear of such things? If I still do, what does that mean..? I decided that thinking would just result in me hesitating. I counted to three, but jumped after the first number. What I saw next was absolutely ghostly.
I rubbed my eyes once. Twice. Before I could do it thrice, I appeared to have realized I was at the bottom of the pit, the water broke my fall and for that I am really grateful. Despite gaining my consciousness underwater, the beautiful sight you see from underneath the surface is enough to keep you there for a moment, even if it means losing your breath. I retaliated that feeling and went to the surface where I gasped desperately for air.
Hurling myself forward took an incredible amount of endeavor. Nonetheless, the bid was not without reward for I finally found myself away from the ghastly depths of the cave. By the time I got out, night has already fallen and the moon welcomes me with its most gentle shine.
I made my way towards one end of the beach, where I saw a silhouette of a person atop a cliff. Who was that? Granted a chance, I would've shouted and asked for a reply, yet not a sound was uttered from my tightly-sewn lips. Perhaps the best thing I could do was to move forward. So I did, until I found more mysteries that seem to blur out everything single detail that I've gathered thus far.
I sat here and watched two jets carve parallel white lines into the sky. They charted
their course and I followed them for twenty-one minutes until they turned off near
Sandford and were lost. If I were a gull, I would abandon my nest and join them. I
would starve my brain of oxygen and suffer delusions of transcendence. I would tear
the bottom from my boat and sail across the motorways until I reached this island
once again.
Through many of the narrations, a mention of a sickness was heard. An infection of more than just the flesh. Although this makes very little sense to me, it seems the lost soul and Donnelly may have a connection more than what it seems on the surface.
Three eggs. Do they represent the three characters mentioned by the narrator?
Nothing strikes me more than the last sentence written in the picture above.
By the time I got here, the aerial was no more than a hand's length away. I made my way through the hills and climbed every single rock that I had to. The flight of steps jeers at me with each step I make. I persisted. I persevered. I know that the end is nigh, the red light is close. So I pushed on until my final moments dawned upon me.
The last leap.
In the end, I couldn't tell what is real anymore. What I know is, I went through a journey of discovery. A journey unlike any other. And this journey will linger in my mind long after I've shut my eyes. I will not draw a conclusion for you. Rather, I'll do it for myself, beginning from where things shape into logic or ring a certain bell to me. Hence this is my version of Dear Esther's Ending Explained.
The lost soul has long been gone from the world. The island is a manifestation of his pain- the loss of a loved one which meant the world to him, and he being trapped on an island that represents somewhere that he cannot escape. The aerial that holds the red beacon represents his final wish, in which he wishes to reach the light. After recollecting fragments of his memories through 'letters', he finally comes to terms with Esther's death. In the picture above, the final leap symbolizes suicide. Not to run away from this wretched world nor his reality, but to be with his beloved Esther. Before he touches the ground (screenshot not included, unfortunately), the lost soul flies upwards to where the letters to Esther were folded into paper ships. During this short flight, the shadow of a gull can be seen- he is reborn as a gull that marks his freedom: he can finally fly away from reality and be with Esther.
Dear Esther, thank you.
