Does Kirby have anything to say?

What is a celebration without achievement? A birthday party. What is a narrative without a story? The Democratic Party. Kirby is both. Does Kirby™ and the Forgotten Land – Nintendo Switch™ 2 Edition + Star-Crossed World have anything to say? It’s the wrong question, but I’m going to ask it anyway.

The answer is obviously no. But the answer is also: Why would I expect it to? One doesn’t eat candy expecting protein. One doesn’t put on their swimsuit to go for a run. Kirby is a pink puffball who swallows enemies via impossible inhalation in order to mimic their essence in his own corporeal form. He is not an interesting literary figure. He doesn’t aim to be.

I’m hungry, though, like Kirby. Hungry for meaning. Hungry to consume things that feel less hollow inside. To that end, Kirby™ and the Forgotten Land – Nintendo Switch™ 2 Edition + Star-Crossed World was the wrong choice for me, media-wise, a fact that was obviously apparent from the two trademarks present in the official title. Anything with that long a title with that many modifiers is announcing itself quite clearly as an object of entertainment more than art.

I won’t be shitty and recount the story of Forgotten Land in a tone that suggests I am above it, because I am not. I’m simply not interested in it, in a way that I think is healthy, like a parent who doesn’t fully absorb the plot of, say, Hotel Transylvania when made to watch Hotel Transylvania. Like the Hotels Transylvanian, Kirby was not made for me. It was made for children. A literary critique of a sticker book is wholly inappropriate. I am not the audience, and it’s on me for picking the thing up in the first place.

I did find Kirby™ and the Forgotten Land – Nintendo Switch™ 2 Edition + Star-Crossed World clarifying, however. Clarifying in the sense that eating something that disagrees with you causes you to avoid such things going forward. Kirby™ and the Forgotten Land – Nintendo Switch™ 2 Edition + Star-Crossed World, in addition to being a fantastic way to inflate your word count in a newsletter draft, is, I think, a case study in the minimal amount of friction one can offer to a player while still feeling engaging. It provides not so much challenge as busywork, something to engage your hands and mind just enough so as to feel distinct from stillness. It vigorously applauds you for the most minimal of efforts. The Kirby series is famous, among other things, for the song that plays when you clear a stage, which has stayed remarkably consistent since 1992. It’s an earworm that celebrates conclusion. Not triumph, per se. Just something being over.

I need to stop playing these kinds of games. I need to play Despelote. I need to play Mouthwashing. I need to play Norco, which I even own. Those are games meant for bitter hags like me. Those are made for people who enjoy the interactivity of games but loathe the wading pool of thematic concern that most employ. There’s nothing wrong with playing Kirby if you like Kirby, but I seem not to. So why did I finish it? The sad truth: I played it because it was there. I played it because I often reach for something easy, something passable, something soft and Kirby-like when I am stressed, which wouldn’t be a bad thing except that, by reaching for it, I found myself even more anxious than when I started. If Kirby is your salve, I am happy for you. If you can eat cotton candy and come away without a hint of nausea, I am, genuinely, jealous.

But again, it comes back to my choices, not Kirby’s. Part of the work of being an adult that cares about art is in cultivating your taste via the things you choose to interact with. If you don’t like something, don’t engage with it. On the one hand, it’s kind of depressing. Need I so thoughtfully consider every aspect of my consumption, even the means by which I relax? On the other, it’s empowering. I don’t have to touch any of that crap if I don’t want to (see: my obligatory and largely unused Netflix subscription). I needn’t play a Kirby if I don’t want a Kirby. It’s on me to fight the worry stone aspect of games if all it does is increase my worry.

This is the part of the essay where one might pivot into saying, “But I’m glad I played it,” but I’m not, so I won’t. What I will say is: I played Kirby™ and the Forgotten Land – Nintendo Switch™ 2 Edition + Star-Crossed World. I found it insubstantial and unremarkable, yet passably engaging. I’ve learned not to eat candy if what I want is dinner. Like Kirby, if I want a different outcome, I need to change my diet.