Unfortunately, I don't think there's anything I can say in this review that can top C_Mooon's "Albert Clamus". That is just a Category 5 devastating pun. But hey, you know what, I'm gonna try my best anyway.
So most of the comments here are some flavor of "I didn't get it," and sure, I'll be transparent and say that I probably didn't "get it" either - this feels deliberately obtuse, so that's likely part of the point. That said, I think "deliberate" is an operative word there - I think it would be a disservice to this game to call it surrealism for the sake of surrealism.
I like chmron's approach here, and I want to give my own thoughts about my reading of the VN as well. Will I make a fool of myself in the process? Oh, yeah, for sure. But I did get something meaningful out of this, and I think it's worth sharing even if it's a bad take.
Before we get into it though, I'll touch briefly on
Presentation:
I mean, I thought it was pretty good, to be honest. There are a lot of eclectic choices here, but I think they suit the dreamlike, absurdist feel of the narrative. This is a VN that has both happy steel drum reggae and moody, melancholy piano pieces, and I think both illustrate the emotions their scenes are trying to convey. The art can be really striking - sometimes it's lighthearted and playful (I love the "woa" sprite so much) and that makes the sudden shifts to carnage or the world being on fire so much more impactful.
There were definitely some proofreading errors here though, and as others have pointed out, this isn't particularly helpful when your text is already intentionally somewhat difficult to parse.
I think the presentation generally got the job done though, and if it feels like I'm rushing through this section, I am, because I really want to talk about
All That Other Stuff:
I think there are a couple different ways you could read the actual "setting" of the story, and I think whether you interpret the island as physically existing in space somehow and the magic being real, or whether you see this as a kind of "Owl Creek Bridge" scenario where Cheery is contemplating their existence in their moment of death, or whether the island is some kind of supernatural purgatory isn't really material since the thematic throughlines are the real draw of the VN.
Ultimately, I see this as a meditation on agency, power, failure, and redemption. Maybe that sounds pretentious, but if you're still with me let me walk you through it for a minute.
Our protagonist is someone who has never really had any agency in his life. He was in an army. It's a pretty nondescript army, but it's clear he wasn't the one making decisions, and while he had some regrets here and there, he was content being a follower. Once the God of Leaves begins to take over the world, the protagonist is chosen by the God of Leaves to work for him, rather than the protagonist seeking him out, and he continues to follow the god, putting so much faith in him that he calls him "Dad". There is no order that shouldn't be followed, even if that means snuffing out the lives of everyone in the vicinity of a volcano or sacrificing himself on a pointlessly suicidal effort to fight the ocean for little more than the god's whim.
Once the effort fails, the god abandons him and sets events in motion that end the world. Finding the clam gives the protagonist an opportunity to finally make a decision for himself, something he wasn't ordered or guided to do, but he can't do it.
Lacking their own agency, he creates a fantasy for himself. Not just of the physical setting of the stereotypical deserted island, but also of an authority figure. The player, like Leeroy, is a construct of the protagonist, someone to make his decisions for him so he bears none of the responsibility. As the story develops, the player choices become fewer, then eventually drop out entirely as the protagonist accepts the responsibility for guiding his own path.
Of course, you can't live in denial forever, and the fantasy is shattered by the indelible scars left by the God of Leaves on the earth. At that point, the protagonist begins getting the first notions of responsibility, but he doesn't recognize the opportunity. It's strange and unfamiliar, and the first instinct is to just pass the buck. Give the clam to the wolf, and no matter what happens it's not your fault anyway because you literally didn't have an option not to. But that doesn't work; it only leads to pain and suffering.
So the protagonist tries again, and this time he begins to take more responsibility, remembering some of the objects emblematic of his guilt, as painful as they are to touch or even see. He's beginning to have accountability, both for himself and someone else he cares about, and then he's given the axe. A chance to use that tool that caused so much guilt and pain for something he chose. And whoops he fucked up and killed the wolf because he didn't really know how to handle that yet.
But the protagonist keeps making progress. He kicks out the "god" he invented for himself and he really digs deep, engaging with the reasons he holds so much guilt, the ways in which he failed. And of course, he fails again, since that meant neglecting the other person he was supposed to be looking out for.
But eventually, he gets it right. He figures out a way to confront his own demons and finally become his own person. Rather than the speaker, on the final round, he is Cheery. He has actualized to the point where he not only has his own identity, but can take on the burdens of others as well. The wolf isn't just the wolf anymore, he's Leeroy (or whatever Cheery chooses, because that's a decision he can make). And once Cheery can make those choices, and have that agency, he can take that a step further and grow to love and appreciate someone else rather than just follow them. And at that point, out of the shadow of his past, he can finally make the choice to move beyond this life and the burning world left in its wake.
To put this back in the context of the jam theme, maybe we put too much emphasis on "folklore." We have legends and gods, and we want to follow their example, if not their lead directly, because their agency feels like it has more weight than ours. When the God of Leaves tells you to do something, when he gives you that power and calls you "son", who are you to say no? But to quote the text, "Gods are just people." Power over someone else doesn't mean you know what to do with it, and the God of Leaves is just as susceptible to human impulses and flaws as any mortal.
As comforting as it can be to put your faith in something else, you still have the ability to choose for yourself. And that choice may not always work out as you intend. How many times did the God of Leaves or some other deity fuck up the whole world and cause it to end in a big fucking fire? How many more times are they going to do it after this one stops burning? It took Cheery four tries to figure it out, but eventually he did, and I think that's important, because it implies that there's hope that the gods will too. And not to get too sentimental about it, but in a world that constantly seems like it's on fire, maybe having that hope that no many how many times you fail, one day you will get it right is a powerful message.
Or, like, hey, maybe none of that is even remotely supported by the text and I'm doing a bunch of heavy lifting for an author that didn't intend any of that. What do I know, I'm not even a real opossum.
Final score of 12 shellders out of 4 bowls of chowder.
Also if we ever do a clam-themed VN jam can we call it Pearl Jam