Breaking Free from Conventional Storytelling: A Novel Approach to Narrative

Who on earth dedicates seven years to creating a video game centered around animals — genuinely, true animals?

The game in question, Animal Neatly, is not a farming game, it’s not a virtual pet game, it’s not even a somewhat cozy simulator. Moreover, as soon as you encounter the back-of-the-box labels — “Metroidvania,” “pixel art,” “retro-inspired” — it might quickly fade from your memory, considering how it resembles countless mediocre indie titles.

Yet the element that has elevated this Game of the Year contender well beyond these basic descriptions and firmly into It’s-a-bit-challenging-to-discuss-what-makes-this-so-great territory is, well… quite tricky to articulate. Depending on how you interact with it, this 2D-pixel-art-Metroidvania game can come across as an exquisitely designed video game, or it could unravel into a complex social experiment about how people historically engage with games.

With that concept (and paradox) in mind, Nintendo Life connected with the game’s sole developer, Billy Basso, to uncover the enigmas of Animal Neatly. In an effort to preserve the game’s numerous secrets, akin to the game itself, we’ve divided this interview into three layers, allowing you, the reader, to decide just how deeply you wish to explore…

Layer 1

Nintendo Life (Alan Lopez): Before we begin, just to clarify that I’ve informed both you and the readers that I’m going to organize the interview in layers, careful to reflect your game, allowing people to engage as deeply as they wish to understand the game. So, shall we start at the surface level? Are you ready?

Billy Basso: Yep, I’m ready.

Alright. Why animals?

Why animals…? I’m not sure. I just really enjoy them. I think everyone likes them. I don’t know. They’re fun to design?

[Laughter]

There are so many animals in the world, and we’re simply one of them. Most games are focused on humans. But I believe there are countless fascinating animals out there. They serve as a significant source of inspiration for me. You can watch any nature documentary or go outside, and [animals] will likely behave in ways that are somewhat silly or entertaining.

I want to delve into this question a bit deeper. The reason I asked it wasn’t to seem dull. If you look around the [PAX] convention floor, or honestly, any video game out there, it feels like everything is an attempt to drill down intogenre. Creating a game solely about animals seems so straightforward that it could almost be seen as a parody. If your game lacked depth, it might feel like a anecdote, but instead, it comes across as profound in its simplicity. That’s why I was curious… you simply made a game about animals. [laughter]

When I seek inspiration, I tend to revert to basics. I try not to let the commonly accepted clichés and stereotypes influence me. Sure, there are a multitude of animals in games, but they often stray far from reality. They’re cartoonish or chibi-like, or they barely resemble their true forms. A teddy bear has almost nothing in common with a grizzly bear you might encounter in nature. Animals are anthropomorphized to such an extent that they become mere characters in costumes, playing roles designed for us.

I wanted the game to portray animals in a way that they almost seem alien, to convey that they have their own unique perspectives on life and behaviors, and that they occupy their ecosystem differently. And [to demonstrate] they are vastly different from us, but in many ways, similar. I wanted to genuinely explore that. Even though [Animal Well] has a generic title, it plays a significant part in the game.

That’s a sincere answer, I appreciate that.

I’ve interviewed very few solo developers who handle everything by themselves. This is likely because, one, they’re rare, and two, most games simply haven’t been crafted at this scale, let alone by a solo developer. What would you say to someone who is currently working alone trying to create a game [at the scale of] what you’ve just developed?

I would suggest that working solo has numerous benefits, actually. I genuinely believe it is a much more efficient method in terms of the amount of resources and effort that goes into the game compared to what ultimately becomes playable. There’s no communication overhead with other team members; you don’t have to defend your ideas; your iteration loop exists solely in your mind, allowing you to work much faster. I think in a way, it’s the purest form of development. Sure, you may be on a singular path and it might take a considerable amount of time, but in some respects, it’s the most secure way to operate in terms of finances and budgeting for a project.

But was there any aspect of game design that nearly hindered you because you were developing it alone?

I think maybe early on I did worry about losing interest or becoming distracted, which I believe is fairly common in the first six months [of a game’s development], where you might have a fresh project that’s initially engaging, but you don’t really know for sure if you’ll stick with it or if it will simply run its course or if you will get bored; the fun tends to dwindle as you delve deeper into the mechanics.

However, after some time, I stopped worrying about that, and it became more a question of how long it would take. Working on this game became my daily routine, and over time it became increasingly intertwined with my life and identity. It became difficult to even consider letting it go. It would indeed be quite a setback to all this time I’ve poured into my life.

It was always crucial to maintain the fun. If I continued to enjoy the daily process, then theoretically, I could work on it indefinitely because it’s simply a passion. And I mean, I know…
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I will regularly engage in video games because they are genuinely soothing to play. I’m by no means going to feel exhausted by that, nor do I ever wonder when it will cease or if there’s any obligation on your part. So as long as I can continue treating it as a hobby instead of a chore that I need to complete, then it hardly matters how long it takes.

Now it’s your profession.

It’s wonderful. There are numerous aspects that may not be as enjoyable, particularly when you need to deliver and market them to others. Ultimately, all these elements accumulate, transforming the process into work as you try to finish it up.

Well, that leads me perfectly to this point: you’re published by Bigmode, the publishing label established by the well-known YouTube figure Dunkey. What was your initial encounter with Dunkey like?

It actually happened after we exchanged some emails and decided to meet, as they were going to discuss Bigmode with us before its launch. I was already a fan and eager to have a conversation with him. I remember being a bit anxious before our Discord call, wondering if he would actually show up. Then I saw the video game Dunkey avatar in the chat. It felt a bit surreal, like, ‘Wow, I’m actually about to talk to him. He’s right here. He’s a real person.’ But I was also quite surprised by how anxious and soft-spoken he was, completely different from his online persona.

He is genuinely a very polite, quiet, and thoughtful individual. I think those who haven’t met him in person may not realize that.

How quickly did it become clear that you were going to collaborate?

Pretty soon. We met a few times, and there was genuine chemistry between me, my partner Dan, Dunkey, and Leah. They were both just very kind and easy to talk to. I was a bit apprehensive about relinquishing creative control and wanted to gauge their intentions.

It simply felt like an ideal match. We wanted the same outcomes; for them, it was a passion project, an opportunity to get more involved in gaming, and they genuinely loved it. That mirrored my own approach. It felt like I could trust them to handle the project carefully. I sensed they had a lot to offer since they could reach far more people than I could alone. Everything just felt right.

Okay, are you ready to dive a bit deeper?

I’m prepared.

Layer 2

I’ve heard many folks refer to Animal Well as a horror game, which I don’t necessarily agree with, but the fact that I frequently hear that sentiment intrigues me. I feel as though you might have made numerous creative choices that steer clear of typical [conventions], yet still create that kind of atmosphere.

So my question is…[pause]…it’s easier to scare a player, or to thrill them. But how do you know when you’ve crafted something that consistently makes a player feel a vibe?

Hmm. In the beginning, I was interested in blending elements from survival horror games with puzzle-platforming mechanics. Those early Silent Hill and Resident Evil PlayStation titles are very close to my heart and…

Is that what inspired the ‘set phone’ feature, by the way?

Exactly. I wanted to create the safe room music to give players a sense that this is your sanctuary, where you can unwind for a while.

I feel like some of those early horror games created what I remember as these fantastic set-ups, where they’re creating an environment that tricks the player, almost like a trap. In Resident Evil 1, the first time you get the shotgun, it’s mounted on the wall. You take it, thinking, ‘Oh cool, I found the shotgun, that looks like an awesome item.’ But then you leave the room and realize that taking it triggered a switch, and now the ceiling is going to crush you. So your reaction is, ‘Oh no! But I want the shotgun!’ Ultimately, the solution is to return the shotgun to escape the room unharmed. You are teased by it… You are told, ‘No, you might have to put it back.’ You have a fleeting sense of ownership for a moment, only for it to be snatched away.

This evokes an emotional experience—like a child dreaming of owning a toy, only to be scolded by their parents and compelled to put it back.

So you were pursuing…the sensation of loss?

Yes. That specific set-up taps into this core memory that many of us share. I appreciate that narrative structure. In Animal Well, I reference it to some degree when you acquire this disc and eventually must obtain the fake version of it—Indiana Jones-style.

But yeah, feelings like that, or the sensation of being pursued in a world, can be very unsettling. Just being chased by something and knowing you are hunted by it can be another frightening thought. I also try not to reuse concepts. Each time I introduce [an idea] in the game, I ask, ‘What’s the angle here? What’s the story behind this? What will the player do? How will the game respond? And why is that captivating?’ If I come up with an idea along those lines, that serves as a compelling starting point for a new area in the game.

Most games have a component of, ‘These things are beneficial for you, and these things are detrimental for you.’ Animal Well doesn’t necessarily have a clear notion of you, in that sense. It simply exists.

That was a critical aspect of the animal design because in real life I don’t believe anything is purely good or bad. It’s all a spectrum of gray. We need to exercise our judgment in any situation. ‘Is this harmful? What does this creature want? What are their motivations?’ I think that’s a fascinating thing to contemplate.

With every creature I include in the game, I want players to feel slightly uneasy. Is this creature helpful? Will they assist me with a puzzle? Is this a danger? I aim to approach it with caution. I believe players are much more engaged when they think in that way and not just carelessly.

for, ‘Oh, I will tackle this, here’s flawed, here’s flawed, oh here’s a boost, I will seize it.’ Must you genuinely create concern for that, you don’t have to think too laboriously about what you are doing, and you’ll be operating on autopilot. I needed to break these patterns.

As a gamer, the manner in which it made me feel was always familiar and often disconcerting.

Yes.

Everything was gratifying, yet everything was flawed. Thus, it caused continuous tension.

I believe that’s a fascinating mindset to adopt when you are navigating a space. It feels as though you are not only exploring the surroundings but also uncovering the entities within it and the game mechanics. You are essentially trying to sketch a mental map of how things function and, I don’t know. To me, that seems soothing.

Let’s discuss the genre then since we’re somewhat on the subject of Metroidvania, a term I find rather distasteful. I’ll get into that, but first I’m curious about… I suspect you are indeed a fan of the genre?

Yeah, absolutely!

So I’d love to hear a bit more about which games influenced you in this genre, and what insights you gained from them.

Yeah, I enjoy many of these games. I believe Super Metroid is perhaps one of my favorites. I love the concept of exploring a space and revisiting locations you may have already explored, only to discover something new. It’s not just the notion of exploration, but that you continue to uncover these loose threads in your mind that you genuinely want to revisit. It’s calming. Overall, I likely have a soft spot for the Metroidvania genre.

However, I also don’t care for genre labels too much. And it’s honestly been somewhat disappointing to see the Metroidvania genre become rather rigid. Many developers seem content to merely replicate the formula, providing the double jump and a run mechanic, and, you know, all these movesets that are derived from past concepts. It’s not genuinely engaging if it’s just a template. I mean, I appreciate the grand idea of these interconnected areas and abilities. I thought it was still a captivating structure to craft a game within: it’s enjoyable, it grants players plenty of freedom regarding which paths they can take, and it’s very gratifying to unlock new content and gradually reveal the mechanics. However, I still sought to create a unique, original game, so I deliberately avoided nearly all the existing tropes.