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Forever Ago Review - A Gut-Wrenching Road-Trip Adventure

Writer: Tricky Tom
Tricky Tom
10 minutes ago
6 min read

Forever Ago

PC/Steam, PS5, XBOX, Switch 2

10/08/26

Third Shift/Annapurna Interactive



FIRST OFF, this game is about nothing of import to anyone. And yet, it means everything to one man. By that, I mean we have a road trip story centered around an old man in his old van. You, as the player, are not tasked with making decisions that reshape society at large or redirecting the waters of destiny. The world is rather unchanged by the end of Alfie’s journey. And yet, Forever Ago is very much about seismic change.


If you ever thought to yourself, “Boy, I could surely go for a video game that’s basically the first ten minutes of Pixar’s Up,” then you’re getting exactly what’s coming to you.



The story is best experienced as the developers crafted it, as opposed to being doled out piecemeal by some dummy on YouTube, so I’ll try to convey what I can without stealing its thunder. Basically, we follow the life and times of one Alfred, or “Alfie,” as he comes to terms with the loss of the love of his life, Audrey (or “Audie”). Over the course of the narrative, we get to witness that relationship take root, blossom, flourish…and then unfortunately wither away.


Alfie plays the part of the archetypical grumpy old man, but where that character trait is often cheap shorthand played for derisive laughs in other stories (as in, “look how insufferable old people are”), here his sour demeanor is very much intentional, inviting the player to ask questions about Alfie’s life while reflecting on their own. Why? Because Alfie is no different from you, me, our parents, etc. By understanding him, we can better understand each other. Yes, even a boomer or two.


For instance, for a man who’s led such a beautiful life, why is Alfie so grumpy? The easy answer is, “Well, his wife died,” which is true. But there’s more to it than just the loss of a companion. This is a story about the end of the world. Not in a post-apocalyptic sense; rather, in the quieter, all-too-familiar sense that we see every day. How many of us have experienced—or known someone who has experienced—the crippling loss of a longtime spouse or a child? When that happens to us, our world ends. Yeah, we can walk and talk and even tell a joke sometimes, but really, we become the walking dead.



Also, after a certain age, the world we’ve known our whole life does end. It changes, shifts under our feet, and pretends it was like that the whole time. Your culture and way of life get labeled as antiquated, mocked for a while, and then become commodified—like generational tourist attractions to be gawked at by young folks who don’t understand what they’re even looking at. You lose your past, and suddenly you find yourself confused and alone, faced with patronizing smiles from people who don’t know what to do with you—it’s kind of like dementia that’s forced on you. And you’re supposed to smile all the way through it, because if you don’t, you’ll get labeled a “grumpy curmudgeon” who should die.

Maybe it’s dramatic, but it’s a real human experience that we’ll all go through eventually. That’s not to mention the aches, pains, and health problems that come with aging. Forget rising food and computer prices—after age 60 you’ve gotta shell out more and more real money just to feel physically neutral, let alone good.


All of this came to mind as I played Forever Ago. I think good art should be able to put you in somebody else’s mind; by that measure, this is good art. By this point in his life, Alfie is probably ready to die. But he can’t because he’s been tasked with finding a reason to live, even if that’s not how he sees it. As you can imagine, it’s a beautiful, winding road, and I found myself unexpectedly smiling just as often as I cried out of nowhere. I think a lot of us are carrying these emotional knots around, and sometimes a good story comes along that really digs in and massages them out. As Alfie learns that there is still beauty to be found in the desolation of what was his life, we can learn to appreciate the same here and now before it happens to us.



A lot of folks would label this game as a walking sim, but that’s like calling a book a page-turning simulator. It’s reductive and lame. The game’s format works to tell the story it’s telling. That’s not to say it completely runs itself, I mean it’s not Wolverine. There’s some light exploration and puzzle-solving to do, plus some photography. Alfie is an amateur photographer and you’re free to take up to 12 photos per chapter, subsequently saving only 4 from each for Alfie’s scrapbook. This system captures the feeling that photography used to have—that feeling of capturing special moments to be cherished. Nowadays, if we can all snag a thousand pics on our phones without a thought, we don’t have any reason to pause and reflect on the moment we’re in. We can just cheaply consume life moments just like we cheaply consume everything else. The photography angle, though, pushes the game’s theme of reflection. In a video game landscape that caters more and more to “faster and faster” twitchy gameplay, a title that forces you to slow down and breathe in the moment is something special.


Additionally, there are moments where you can unlock little vignettes that harken back to Alfie’s past experiences with certain places. I was amazed by how these vignettes could take completely mundane-looking corners of nothingness and turn them into sacred spaces—just with a little context. It’s pretty incredible, actually, and it speaks to the human experience. We saturate certain spaces with memories and experiences, leaving bits of ourselves wherever we go. To you, it’s just a dingy table at a rundown diner. To me, it’s where I first realized I loved someone. And yet, as we leave pieces of ourselves in these wonderfully mundane places, we’re not lesser for it; in fact, we’re greater. It’s what living is all about. And that’s what these vignettes teach us.



Alright, time for some smaller, lighter observations.

The voice acting is pretty good—a little broad for me at times, but I might just be a little particular about that sort of thing. Put another way, it can feel a little… sitcom-y, at times. Not silly, per se. Just a little “big.” One standout performance was a store clerk early on that positively grated on me, but I think that one was intentionally insufferable just to put me in Alfie’s head. If so, bravo because it was effective.


I played with a controller, and selecting the right thing was occasionally a little finicky. I got stuck trying to open one door for, like, five minutes.

There’s a prompt that says, “Push whatever to show Objectives,” which popped up completely too often throughout the whole game. Look, if I’ve gone five hours without pushing that button, chances are I’m not gonna start now. I’m sure they’ll patch that before too long.


The writing is good. I realized halfway through that it doesn’t have that modern quirky slant that a ton of stuff these days unfortunately has. I think the game’s dialog is character-based, not joke-based, which helps a lot. If Alfie wouldn’t say something, then he doesn’t. Sounds easy, but it’s also pathetically rare. I think that takes a lot of humility on a writer’s part to write like that, so big props to the team. The game wouldn’t have worked at all without that sort of discipline.


But don’t get me wrong. With all my praise of the writing and story, a twisty-turny episode of Game of Thrones this is not. You can probably map out the beats in advance, and you know what kind of story you’re getting into right off the bat. The fact that you know what story you’re getting shouldn't diminish the fact that it’s told well… but, I dunno, some folks who need surprises to stay invested in things may feel bored.

THE GIST OF IT…


The gist of it all is this: Forever Ago is very good. Actually, it’s great. I found myself smiling at unexpected moments multiple times over its six-hour playthrough, sometimes with a tear or two in my eye. And yeah, I cried once or twice for different reasons. In Alfie we may see ourselves, or our father, or grandfather, or whoever. It’s a thoroughly human story, and I couldn’t help but think that it’s a privilege to witness anyone’s life, even a fictional one. I’m awarding Forever Ago the golden genie lamp.


What I Liked

Well-crafted & honest story

Characters you can get invested in

Makes you slow down & think about life

Something you’ll think about after you’re done


What to Consider

Well… makes you slow down & think about life

Really broad voice acting at times

Story doesn’t break new ground

Finicky controls at times

Overeager “Objectives” prompt


ESSENTIAL
ESSENTIAL

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