FAR: Lone Sails is a solitary adventure, but you never feel lonely or lost. There’s always the one road, with only a few obstacles in the way of your giant machine. And then of course there is said machine, a giant, steam-powered contraption that is keeping you busy in its innards as you stoke the furnace or set the sails to keep your momentum going.
Whatever happened to the game’s vaguely post-apocalyptic world is never explained and it doesn’t really matter. It does, however, make for some rather spectacular vistas of a land long deserted. Sometimes there are lights in the distance, and you wonder if other people exist out there, if other machines are making their way towards one undefined goal. It doesn’t really matter, though. What matters is that you press on through fields, mountains, plains, and frightening thunderstorms. There is only ever one way to go.
FAR: Lone Sails looks lovely, but its sparsely-used music caught me completely off-guard. When you’re chugging along and that warm saxophone plays a bunch of notes or a lonely guitar keeps plucking the same strings, only to be joined by a full orchestral arrangement a few moments later, it’s magic.
These moments are perfect in their minimalism and, once again, they somehow reinforce that despite your solitude, you’re not ever feeling lonely, that this is not some depressing trip into deserted wastelands, but a journey of hope.