I am having a hard time putting my feelings into words about The Wide Open Sky is Running Out of Catfish. I mean that in the best way possible. Within the first arc and area of the game, I laughed, cried, gasped, oohh’d and ahhh’d, felt wanderlust, felt homesick, took pictures of sky shrimp, caught a Betta in my net, and found a hermit crab living in my lamp.
That is to say, it’s been a while since I played a story-driven cozy game that made me feel so strongly in every which way.
The Wide Open Sky is Running Out of Catfish is a narrative heavy photography sim with light puzzle elements. Living on the back of a giant catfish in the sky, you play as Jet, a young adult home from university for the summer. Unfortunately, their mom is nowhere to be found and some upsetting news has them on the hunt for her urgently.
Communicate with friends from “down below” (Earth, solid ground) using a retro-inspired PC and chat app. Collect seashells and bubbles to manifest more sea creatures into the sky. Stop the Nosies from eating all your clouds. Play bongos for a sleepy seal. Ride a serpent through the sunset-painted sky. Ignore dodgy faxes that may or may not have to do with all the witchy magic you’ve been inadvertently exposing. Talk to a mafia (?) crab about his timeshare in Santa Fe.
And that’s just a fraction of the delightful weirdness I experienced.
I thought I was entering a game about photographing fish in the sky, following in my virtual mom’s footsteps. But this game is so much more than that. It’s more than a Steam page can encapsulate, that’s for sure; so I had to write about it and hopefully do it some justice. There is a deep, relatable story here about family ties, the profound chaos of grief, and the interconnectedness of humankind and nature.
Even if you do just want to photograph fish, you’ll find yourself in a Zen-like trance watching different breeds sail lazily across the sky. Rushing schools of guppies, a manta ray silhouetted against the full moon, a parrotfish bopping across your island home, clownfish peeking through the blue morning clouds.
The whole game centers around a few simple tools: a camera, a net, and a flute. Learning different songs will help you move (or fly) about, whether you sail on a soaring serpent or teleport using a special tune. You can catch fish in your net, but can’t keep them; this is a catch-and-release game vibe. Your camera will be your main tool, and all the pictures you take will be uploaded on “Photo Pond.” You can see what you’ve captured, what you are still missing, where each entity lives, and even print pictures out to show a hippie snail what he looks like or pin your favorite shots to your corkboard.
My favorite part of the game was talking to Catfish. Yes, the being that carries you and your small cottage on its back can talk. Just ring the bell to get his attention. He is wise and silly, loveable and awkward—and his story had me in tears. A good game makes you cry for it’s characters; a really good game makes you heave-sob into your oat latte. This game is the latter.
There is also a non-present background cast of characters with whom you can interact with on your computer. Cian and Margot are the besties. Herman and Honor are your mom’s friends (both of whom are just learning she has a child). And Margaret Pommel, Assistant General Secretary of the Interregional Council of Covens, wishes you wouldn’t engage in the “transferal of illicit objects between classes (classes: human, crustacean),” but she only communicates by fax.
Everyone is interesting and unique. The writing—from group chat dialogue to witchy fax messages—is smart, funny, and loveable. The notes from your mom scattered around the island range from goofy to informative to heartbreaking. It’s the kind of game that will make you stop and think “I miss my grandma” or “I should call my mom.”
What will always stick with me about The Great Open Sky is Running Out of Catfish is how the game talks about death. Or Falling. Or cycles of reincarnation. Or all of the above.
Death is not final, it’s merely a pathway to the next iteration of your being. Death isn’t even really death. It’s just part of the journey. Body becomes sea, sea becomes sand, sand becomes dirt, dirt becomes plant, and plant becomes new life.
What started as a frantic obsession with Catfish’s cute little face on the Steam page blossomed into a spiritualist meandering about life, afterlife, and all the bright and beautiful things in-between.
Give The Wide Open Sky is Running Out of Catfish a try if you like deep philosophical questions in a duet with silly sky fish. It may sound niche, but there is a heartfelt story here that everyone will relate to. I can promise you that.
Stay cozy, gamers!
The Wide Open Sky is Running Out of Catfish screenshots
