Caravan SandWitch: Collapse is not inevitable

You know that feeling? The one that grabs you by the gut and won’t let go. That feeling of emptiness you want to avoid at all costs. You’re looking at that game (book, series) that you don’t want to finish, because that means you’re done. Until you experience that ending, read those final pages, watch that last episode, all those characters and that universe you hold so dear are suspended in an in-between place. Always present, and at the same time close to their conclusion.

In video games, this often manifests itself in a form of exploration: you wander around, collecting all the collectibles, scanning the map for a place you haven’t discovered yet. We answer “no” to the famous question “Are you ready? From this point on, there’s no turning back”. This fateful message often indicates that we are facing the ultimate chapter in this videogame experience.

Exploration allows you to take a break at any time. You wander around, observing the clouds, the fauna, the flora, for the pleasure of discovering hidden details, contemplating the work of the developers, knowing all the dialogues and references therein. It’s that suspended moment when you “clean” the area, exploring meticulously, carefully avoiding the next main quest. Why avoid it? Because all the elements at our disposal suggest that the end will be tragic, that it will break our hearts, or simply because it will mean leaving this universe once and for all.

It means finishing the game, turning off the console, changing the world. And we don’t want to do that.

You might reply that you just have to restart the game, replay it, keep exploring. But very often, the first experience is the most impactful, the most emotional, the most tragic. Discovering the environment, the characters and the story is one of the first approaches you have to a game, almost your first emotions when faced with these elements that will accompany you for a number of hours. We inevitably become attached to these elements, sometimes almost as if we’d known them for a long time.

Utopia, dystopia, rescue and rebirth

Caravan SandWitch is one of those striking works that you don’t want to finish, that you want to lose yourself in again and again in this Provence-punk, as many like to call it. The post-apocalyptic landscapes tell us a story, whether through the omnipresent emptiness and absence, or through the people we come across. The game hangs by a thread, in a precarious but controlled balance between utopia and dystopia, collapse and new beginnings. The gameplay experience allows you to explore numerous themes and motifs that accompany you throughout the adventure, even in its smallest details. These subjects build on each other, forming a kaleidoscope of shapes and subjects, colors and themes that move and evolve according to your actions, your discoveries or the obstacles the developers have put in your path.

Save

The basic idea behind the plot is a rescue: that of your sister, whom you haven’t heard from for over six years, whom you thought dead and whose ship’s life support system sends you a distress message. You had already mourned, leaving Cigalo (and your pain), trying to rebuild yourself after the tragedy, and also to escape, a little, the pain of absence. But she’s not the only one in need of assistance. Lost little people, robots to gather, data to retrieve from oblivion… Numerous side quests evoke rescue, saving in all its forms. And many of them place you, Sauge, in the position of savior. But is this really the case? Who will help Sauge?

The motif of rescue is closely linked to that of loss of bearings, of orientation, of simply being lost. The immensity of the world in front of you is rendered by graphic perspectives, by the distant horizon, by vegetation that is at times lush and at others almost desert-like. Graphically, the game plays with your eye, your perception of distances, of the camera, of depth. Whether it’s the impression of being crushed by the forest, where you can’t make out the size, or by the huge tornado on the horizon, which totally distorts your perception of distances. This distortion stems from the fact that the hurricane is so big, so powerful, so imposing that it’s hard to imagine it as anything other than a titanic element, and since it’s omnipresent, our eye tends to compare all the other elements in the scenery to this frame of reference. This accentuates the immensity of the landscape. And the effect is all the more striking when we note that the best views of the tornado are on the beach, an almost deserted place, with very few buildings breaking the perspective and the impression of immensity (and danger) that emanates from the tornado.

Preserve

The presence of the tornado naturally leads to another major theme in Caravan SandWitch: ecology. This is a recurring theme in science fiction, whether in video games or not. Closely linked to that of rescue and preservation, this theme has many ramifications: preserving the environment, managing the consequences of rampant industrialisation, showing and denouncing the catastrophic management of environmental policies. The inclusion of a science-fiction context, in this case another planet, helps to put these themes into perspective, while showing the consequences of very real actions that can be transposed to our reality. Here, Cigalo. The planet has been over-exploited, drained of its natural resources by rapidly expanding industrial activities. The almost desert-like state of Cigalo is the direct consequence of the excesses of capitalism, which has left behind everything that can no longer be exploited, to the detriment of the humans living on the planet, leaving them without resources but not without hope of escaping. It is through the absence and remnants of this excessive exploitation that part of the plot of Caravan SandWitch, your exploration and your relationship with the world, is built.

And that means exploration. Exploring abandoned places, industrial urbexes where you can find components, materials and information. Much of the magic of the level design takes place in these buildings. The cameras zoom out to let you see the whole landscape, and just how small you are compared to the tornado, the gutted silos and the ruins. Their gigantic size accentuates the omnipresence of capitalism and exploitation on Cigalo, but all the excess is manifested in the emptiness. The empty containers, the raw concrete warehouses, the immense, untouched flat roofs. And these spaces are also devoid of any industrial purpose: they’re neutral enough for you to imagine any kind of activity, to play with the perceptions you have, in full knowledge of our reality, our industry and that of the Earth as we know it. So when a character asks you to investigate the use of this building, which, as a player, you have no idea what it was used for, the investigation becomes yours as well as Sauge’s.

Represent

But when it comes to ecology, Caravan SandWitch is also subtle. In those details that seem nothing but are worth a lot. Sage, Pepper, Rose, Clove, Saffron… These are the names of the characters in this adventure. All linked to nature, to the earth, to a flower, a plant, a fruit or a vegetable. The only character with other names, not related to flora, is Hyla… whose design is that of a frog and whose name also means frog (the hyla being a green frog, a small tree frog by its vernacular name). Once again, Caravan SandWitch plays with the meaning of its words, its themes and the way it puts them into practice. Preserving the environment, breathing new life into it after the disasters of industrialisation, also means protecting local populations, enabling them to survive in self-sufficiency, or at least to be able to live at home without being relocated. It’s about caring for people as well as animals and plants. It’s a message of hope and benevolence, hidden behind names that, at first glance, may seem amusing.

And all this is perfectly evident in the character design. The fact that Hyla is a tree frog is an easy enough example. But the game goes further. In Caravan SandWitch, you’ll be exploring Cigalo in the van lent to you by Rose. It’s a yellow, all-purpose van that you can add to as your adventure progresses: a radar to scan the surroundings and discover items that you can hack, move and collect; a grappling hook to open doors, but also to create passages between several posts and use a zip line. Sauge’s character echoes his vehicle: his satchel is yellow like the van (and is also used to carry objects); his sweatshirt is the same green as when you use the scanner and the world becomes lighter or darker depending on the elements you can interact with… And Sauge even has a red rope/cable hanging from his belt, the same colour as the grappling hook and cable he uses. You could even go further and note that Sauge’s orange hair is almost the same shade as the inside of the tornado.

Caravan SandWitch goes beyond the simple notion of environmental preservation, saving a sister and paying close attention to detail. The game showcases diverse and different characters, whether in their design, their character or their individuality. Their design sometimes echoes their name, like Nèfle, for example, whose name comes from a fruit, the medlar, and whose Japanese medlar is particularly yellow. The diversity of the characters (criticised only by a group of people affiliated to the incel and masculinist movements of GameGate) is essential here: it gives us a vision of an open world, a human utopia where everyone can flourish in their individuality and their difference.

The possibilities of science fiction are gigantic, limited only by the imagination or, in the case of hard science fiction, by technicality. From there, as Ketty Steward points out in her essay Le Futur au pluriel : réparer la science-fiction (The Plural Future: Repairing Science Fiction), published by Inframonde, ‘It’s not so much a question of embodying a struggle to obtain a place for this or that community, as of inventing other systems, other ways of living together, compatible with the plurality of ways of being in the world which, contrary to what we think, is already here’.

Today’s society reduces our lives to a political struggle, a struggle for representation, in which placing a character from a minority group is reduced to a calculation, a planned ‘agenda’. Through the characters in Caravan SandWitch, a whole range of diversity is expressed: in their view of the world and their inner conflicts, in their gender identity, in their relationship with nature, with their history, with the world and with society in general. This creates a utopia where everyone is free to express themselves as they wish.

Countering the narrative of collapse

Caravan SandWitch is as much about utopia as it is about dystopia. Cigalo’s utopia: despite its rural setting, the planet enjoys a degree of freedom. The yoke of the mining company that exploited the planet is no more. Even if there is still some desert, some ruins, a kind of desolation born of the abandonment of the industrialisation of the planet, nature has quickly regained the upper hand, whether it be the fauna and flora or simply the human hope of doing something with this place to live. To make it welcoming again, to finally live without the Damocles sword of profitability hanging over their heads.

This utopia takes the complete opposite tack to classic collapse stories. While the state of the planet after the company’s departure and the huge tornado could be seen as the remnants of some kind of cataclysm, or apocalypse, Caravan SandWitch is about the aftermath, a return to the source, whether in video games or science fiction.

In her essay Réparer la Science Fiction (Repairing Science Fiction), Ketty Steward highlights the structural differences in the very way these stories are approached, in the light of social inequalities: ‘Those for whom the arrival of Civilisation with a capital C and an insatiable appetite for oil, gold, sugar, bananas, cotton, coffee, etc., was already synonymous with the apocalypse’. This could easily be applied to Cigalo: the planet, having become impossible for the company to exploit, only regains its utopian side when they leave, freeing themselves from a dystopia based on draining the planet’s resources and exploiting its soil without any distinction other than the yield and money generated. These are stories of excess, highlighting the fact that everything is collapsing to leave only ruins from which nothing can flourish again. If we look at the narrative structures, in novels, series, films, and many games too. The world is going to collapse into ashes, ruins and dystopia, and then it will stop. And there’s something quite definitive about this type of narrative, making it almost impossible to envisage a positive or non-positive aftermath marked by desolation and the loss of knowledge. Shaped by post-apocalyptic achievements, there is this underlying idea that without a capitalist, industrial, exploitative structure, the world cannot go round. Caravan SandWitch is one of those stories that shows us the opposite, offering us the chance to explore, literally and figuratively, a gentle alternative, a way of showing us that we are not dependent on industrialisation for our livelihood (we could also mention solarpunk, another positive experiment, albeit different from the current focus).

Caravan SandWitch, in the manner of Octavia Butler’s narratives or the approach of the Afrocyberfeminisms lecture series, organised by Oulimata Gueye and Marie Lechner at the Gaîté Lyrique, from February to July 2018 (and extensively studied by Ketty Steward in her essay), questions the aftermath: ‘A desirable future for humanity can only be built from its lowest common denominator. The desirable future thus becomes the one that can demonstrate its capacity to take into account the least integrated among us and allow them to exist’. (Ketty Steward, Le Futur au pluriel : Réparer la science fiction, ed. Inframonde).

Living and playing the aftermath

What’s special about Caravan SandWitch is that it’s part of this desire to reinvent the world, the aftermath and traditional science fiction stories, while allowing players to feel the impact of the game in their hands.

The game begins with Sauge fleeing to Cigalo after her sister’s ship sends an automatic message for help. You start out in an aseptic, white and grey, empty environment, with the impression that you’re fleeing a world that has become very impersonal. Your arrival on Cigalo is a contrast: colours explode on the screen, and you meet people directly, your friends, your family. The impersonal gives way to the personal, the empty to the living. In a way, this beginning marks a return to your roots, a return to nature, to your past. The quests follow one another, allowing you to discover the extent of the diversity and concerns of each individual. The human before the machine (with the exception of robots, to which we’ll return later), the human before the exploitation of resources, more reasoned agriculture, listening to the environment, and so on.

The contemplative side, the encounters with people with different problems and backgrounds, the exploration in the van – it’s all there to give us a breath of fresh air, to make us want to wander around without restraint, while discovering exactly what’s going on on this planet. It’s totally possible to spend hours just driving the van and exploring the landscapes. This very tranquil aspect of the game also invites us to reflect. The question marks on the map are not there to urge you to collect objects, but to offer you points of rest and panoramic views, to ‘collect’ not the material but the immaterial through a wide view and camera movement, allowing you to embrace the landscape. The other points of interest marked on the map are places to listen to music. It’s another way to stop, contemplate and discover.

Caravan SandWitch’s gameplay, from the easy handling of the van to the ease with which you can explore, encourages you to sit back, enjoy and explore this utopia and understand how it works. Each quest introduces us to a different aspect of it, telling us about a possibility, a situation, a feeling.

The side quests all reveal something new. Some of them have a different symbolic significance. The quests linked to Lamarr (‘Saying goodbye’, which we won’t tell you about so as not to spoil things for you) or, more generally, the collection of robots are among these. The first echoes what Sauge is going through, and the second more generally: saying goodbye means accepting the world (or the situation as it is), but it also means moving on and evolving. Whether it’s Lamarr in relation to his memories, Sauge in relation to her sister Garance, or the world in relation to the abandonment of the company. The strength of this quest lies in its writing: Lamarr, the robot, questions emotions and states of mind, tries to understand what is happening and add his own reflections. They go beyond the framework of the game, and speak to us too, directly behind the screen.

The collection of robots questions AI, our relationship with technology and the way it evolves. They are the remnants of the old world, of the company’s presence on the planet. At the same time, they aspire to something else, seeking their role in a world they know no longer has a place for them. Everyone has their own way of looking at the world, whether or not they agree with the idea of coming together to found their own utopia. Some point to a form of profound solitude stemming from the absence of networks and communication, or from their obsolescence. Others try to look on the ‘bright side’ by expressing a desire for freedom and retirement, leaving humans ‘free’ from their grip. They all express, in some way, the remnants of the world before, sometimes with nostalgia. It’s a necessary melancholy, because it’s part of the evolutionary process for those who have already experienced the ‘before’ and are now discovering the ‘after’.

The shadow of the world

It’s hard to talk about Caravan SandWitch without mentioning SandWitch itself. We mentioned the character design above, and her colour choices reflect the hues of the tornado, the red and black of danger, and the outfits of the desert dwellers. She’s an almost ghostly figure throughout the first half of the game, appearing and disappearing in different places to the point of being almost a mirage. It’s the little thing that tugs at the edge of your vision, invisible if you focus on it. This impression of evanescence adds to the myth surrounding her: an almost folkloric figure, whose very existence is questioned by many.

At the start of the game, she can even be seen as the incarnation of Cigalo, seeking to protect himself. Appearing as you explore the remains of the company, sometimes in connection with the main quest, sometimes not. Interestingly, the more you explore, the further you get into the story, the closer she seems to get to you. Initially in the background, a barely visible figure who disappears as soon as the camera moves over her, she takes shape as you progress, becoming more present, even talking to you and moving closer to Sauge. She interrupts your exploration, reminding you of her presence, of the tornado, of your mission.

Her role is ambiguous, as it is seen only in terms of Sauge’s experience, who wants only one thing: to find her sister, at the expense of almost everything else. In a way, she is the shadow that hangs over Cigalo, somewhere between legend and reality, a worrying or reassuring figure, it’s up to you.

The day after a world

Caravan SandWitch is one of those strong, embodied stories that allows us to both question the dynamics of science fiction stories and enjoy a gentle gaming experience. We enjoy wandering through it, never really wanting to finish the adventure so as not to have to leave Cigalo. And yet, without giving too much away, the ending is also particularly significant, in terms of the choices to be made, the game’s purpose, the explanation of the SandWitch’s presence and everyone’s goals. It sheds new light on certain unanswered questions and taken-for-granted facts. This questioning, in the light of the Caravan SandWitch adventure, once again goes beyond the framework of the game, pushing us to question our world, our society, our relationship with others and with nature. And that’s all we’ll say about the ending, because it’s one of those significant moments that must be experienced to retain its impact.

In many ways, Caravan SandWitch is part of a wider reflection on how we explore imaginary worlds, diversity and difference. The story is written on the margins, of genres, stories and characters. With the dual option of playing without asking questions and exploring issues and relationships with others, the developers leave the choice up to us, while highlighting strong themes such as freedom, preserving the environment, utopia and diversity.

So grab the keys to the van and head off to explore Cigalo and all its riches. Don’t forget to soak up the sun at the top of one of its cliffs to admire the scenery and delve into the world’s forgotten past. Cigalo awaits you.

If you want to continue your journey on Cigalo, you can read our interview … or hear it !

Source

• Le Futur au pluriel : réparer la science-fiction, Ketty Steward, éd. Inframonde (https://www.editions-inframonde.com/accueil/20-le-futur-au-pluriel-9782958768201.html)