“In Giant Sparrow’s sophomore effort ‘What Remains of Edith Finch,’ an interactive journey through the puzzling lives of a family beset by tragedy, . . . phantom memories lurk behind secret doors or at the ends of twisting passageways. The setting, a remote Pacific northwest home whose oblique additions sprawl like a stack of teetering favelas, becomes both a literal maze and a lineal metaphor — a multigenerational map of attachment and dysfunctionality.”

“The interior of the house is a character in itself, and to learn more about it, you have to explore. The level of detail means that really understanding a space takes more than a moment’s pause, but nothing in the world is surplus: the clutter has a narrative purpose. A wheelchair with an oxygen bottle attached tells one story, as does the modern stairlift in this old house. Even the takeaway boxes and the dishes still smeared with food have a tale to tell. And then there are the books. . . . ‘What Remains of Edith Finch’ is a game that succeeds in recreating the childhood joy of reading a book and being utterly transported into its pages, only to reach the end and realise it’s not real. It will touch the heart of all but the most soulless of gamers.”

“‘Edith Finch’ is a game about connections, emotional responses, human interaction. It’s a game in which tragedy is weaved throughout its narrative. Sadness, loss, emotional torment, these are all subjects that the game handles masterfully. But so, too, does it handle joy, happiness, love and hope. . . .

“The game is sectioned into a number of stories of varying lengths, each focusing on a different member of the Finch clan. These are marvellously crafted; no single one is the same, and they explore interactive narrative in myriad incredible ways. The mechanics and structure themselves are part of the joy or sorrow, part of the emotional impact. . . . It’s especially noteworthy, too, for death to be so impactful in a video game. How often do we die in games? For death to have meaning, a game must create a believable facsimile of life, and ‘Edith Finch’ does this fantastically. The Finches: infuriating, frustrating, lovable, flawed, vulnerable, but deeply, deeply human.”

“3-D games are settings as much as experiences — perhaps even more so. And the Finch estate is a remarkable setting, imagined and executed in intricate detail. This is a weird family, and the house has been stocked with handmade gewgaws and renovated improbably, coiling Dr. Seuss-like into the air. The game is cleverly structured as a series of a dozen or so narrative vignettes, in which Edith accesses prohibited parts of the unusual house, finally learning the individual fates of her forebears by means of the fragments they left behind — diaries, letters, recordings, and other mementos. The result is aesthetically coherent, fusing the artistic sensibilities of Edward Gorey, Isabel Allende, and Wes Anderson. . . . And yet, the game is pregnant with an unanswered question: Why does this story need to be told as a video game? The whole way through, I found myself wondering why I couldn’t experience ‘Edith Finch’ as a traditional time-based narrative. . . .

“The true accomplishment of ‘What Remains of Edith Finch’ is that it invites players to abandon the dream of interactive storytelling at last. Yes, sure, you can tell a story in a game. But what a lot of work that is, when it’s so much easier to watch television, or to read. . . . If there is a future of games, let alone a future in which they discover their potential as a defining medium of an era, it will be one in which games abandon the dream of becoming narrative media and pursue the one they are already so good at: taking the tidy, ordinary world apart and putting it back together again in surprising, ghastly new ways.”