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For the last week, I’ve been experiencing a bizarre hiking adventure instead of engaging in normal life activities, all thanks to a frustrating character known as Nate. In
Baby Steps, you control this hapless individual who has spent 35 years doing nothing but lounging in his parents’ basement and binge-watching anime. When he decides to put on an adult costume, he finds himself at the foot of a surreal mountain adorned with suggestive imagery. Your task is to guide him to the summit by manipulating his legs independently, using the controller’s triggers to lift and the analog sticks to place them.

The challenge level is off the charts. Occasionally, Nate moves down gentle slopes, but more often than not, he navigates narrow planks, ascends dunes in tiny steps, and clings to rocky ledges with his toes. He repeatedly stumbles and falls, whimpering as he slides down muddy slopes and sandy shores, while his onesie gets increasingly filthy. I keep getting up and attempting again, occasionally interrupted by an Australian man with wild eyes or a pants-less donkey character who mocks me but extends a hand of assistance—only for Nate to angrily decline.

The moment you lose focus, Nate loses his as well. After three hours of this outrageous experience, falling off my board into a river, I trudged back to the campsite from where my hike began. All I managed to accomplish was locating a silly propeller hat, which only added to my burdens as I had to stop and retrieve it after each tumble. I rarely feel like crying while gaming, but the sight of that campsite nearly broke me.

Picture enduring these setbacks for hours, only to end up in a dimly lit space filled with a lantern that Nate inexplicably keeps dropping. It’s pitch dark unless you backtrack for it, and navigating the escalator has to be done flawlessly; otherwise, you’re treated to seconds of watching Nate’s backside as he slowly descends. Following that, the exit is a labyrinthine path on a sandy ledge where Nate’s feet continually seem to get lost. I found myself stuck there for so long, grappling with my thoughts, rising frustration, and Nate’s company. Every chapter of Baby Steps takes the sadistic challenge to new levels.

So why persist? Aside from the undeniable fact that I probably need to unpack my issues in therapy, I refuse to let this game defeat me. It’s more than just playful slapstick (watching Nate tumble down a mudslide is sheer comedy). The improvised dialogue and absurd scenarios are genuinely hilarious. The developers voice the characters themselves, and every cutscene offers a delightful break from the chaos. There’s even an optional desert challenge where players scale sandy slopes to collect icy trophies before they melt. As Nate continuously returns to the ice cream vendor in deepening despair, even the developer’s voice starts to waver.

While it may seem like a cruel game where we laugh at this unfortunate man’s misadventures, there’s a deeper meaning. Even though I often found myself frustrated with Nate and considered quitting to avoid witnessing his constant flailing, I gradually began to empathize with him. He’s the epitome of a societal loser, yet he’s trying. In spite of his intense social anxiety, masculine insecurities, and clear self-hatred, he attempts to put one foot in front of the other in a poignant metaphor for life.

Upon finishing a chapter, you encounter a melancholic 8-bit mini-game summarizing Nate’s past: his disheartened parents, successful sister, and lackluster romantic encounters. As I progressed, I could see how Nate arrived at his current state. Although I wasn’t as personally involved as some players might be, I developed a protective instinct towards him and didn’t want to abandon him, no matter the cost.

This game also elicited my worst tendencies. I cursed at Nate every time my foot slipped from what I thought was a secure situation. But among all the discouraging moments, there were instances where I painfully felt gratitude after finally mustering the patience to push Nate forward in his journey. “Baby Steps” is whimsical yet profound. Having played games for three decades, I can confidently say I’ve never encountered anything quite like this. For a game focused on failure, it prompted surprisingly deep reflection and emotion.

You’ll need a good dose of self-deprecation to fully appreciate all that this game has to offer, but that’s not a high aspiration. After about 10 hours, I was determined to finish it. Along the way, I encountered a vast spiral staircase reaching into the clouds. To the right: a perilous cliffside path, ominously referred to as “Manbreaker” by an Australian guide. “You can’t do it. You’re gonna fail miserably for the next five years… You’ll eventually get so exasperated that you’ll just ascend these damn stairs.”

“I vow to never ascend these stairs,” Nate replied indignantly.

I gazed at the path ahead, rolling upwards into obscurity. I imagined potential slips and falls even before finding my footing. For the following days, I would hurl myself at this rock wall, envisioning my life progressing incrementally with each ticking hour. I pictured my partner and kids entering the living room, astonished and concerned, finding me once again playing Baby Steps and making no headway whatsoever.

Screw it. I’m climbing those stairs.