What would make me the most money? It was the only question that mattered. It was no longer about doing what was right, it was about doing what was best for myself. My family would have food and heat for another night.Īnd just like that, when everything was starting to feel predictable, the rules of the game had been thrown out the window. Two days later a package shows up at my house. It’s only my first for the day, meaning no docks in my salary just yet. A violation screeches out of the fax machine, but I don’t sweat it. I hand it back to him and he’s on his way. I slowly place his passport in front of me. A green stamp slides down. Do you trust this man to follow through on his promise? How much do you value your loyalty to the government? Do you accept? You need the money, you know you do. But for the price of a green stamp, he’ll be back in two days with a reward. A man appears before you and admits he doesn’t have the right papers. Then, just as you think you have the game figured out, another curve ball is thrown your way. Their needs will always be your top priority, no matter what. These people are strangers, but your family is starving. You don’t follow the rules, you get sent back. Did I care that I allowed a husband to pass through but sent his helpless wife to the back of the line? Not one bit. The figures that passed before my station weren’t even people anymore. Crap, you forgot one of the rules! Don’t be so careless next time!īy the time I had gotten to the fourth day, my mental checks had become seared into my brain. You allow an immigrant to pass, but are soon met with another violation. You need to go quicker and yet the process has only gotten longer. Foreigners require entry permits but citizens only need an ID. More documents to inspect, more rules to follow. Not enough money today? Better be quicker tomorrow.īut then things get interesting. What’s more, you’re paid by the number of entrants you process each day. Other days you can’t make ends meet, and your family goes hungry and cold. You have very little money, and your family needs food and shelter. Very quickly you become aware of the standard of living in Arstotzka and the true challenge presented to you in Papers, Please. You should have chosen otherwise.Īt the end of the day you go home to your family. If not, a fax machine screeches out a violation from headquarters. Eventually you are forced to decide – allow or deny? If you were perceptive enough, you chose wisely. It’s an exercise in acumen – are you clever enough to spot the error? Maybe the document has expired, or the names are mismatched. It seems like a deceptively simple proposition, but even from the get-go I found this initial challenge to be pleasantly intriguing.
Your job? Inspect the immigration papers of each entrant and ascertain their eligibility for passage into the country.
The monthly labor lottery has put you in charge of Arstotzka’s border checkpoint, a one-man position situated inside a small wooden shack amidst miles of barbed wire and dismal concrete barricades. Papers, Please places you in the dirt-covered boots of an unnamed worker from Arstotzka, a Soviet-style eastern European country with a less-than-stellar human rights record. And even more magnificent was that it not only changed my perspective of what a game could be, it even altered my perceptions of the real world. Not just merely playing to press onward, but absolutely glued to the game. And yet, I found its game play so rich and imaginative that I became utterly addicted. It’s a concept so tedious it almost sounds like work. Here is a game with a simple premise: playing a border guard in charge of inspecting passports. If anything, Papers, Please has shattered that myth for good. Otherwise, it’s just a game about a guy living his life, right? Get up, go to work, buy groceries, pay the bills. Maybe he’s simply in the right place at the right time. In other words, he needs to be “the Chosen One”. Maybe he’s all-powerful, or maybe she’s exceptionally brave. An exceptional plot, they say, demands an exceptional protagonist. I’ve occasionally heard the argument that it’s impossible to make a game about an ordinary person.