Don't Look Back: How Title, Gameplay, and Story Create Meaning

Though Terry Cavanagh rose to indie fame through VVVVVV, a difficult platformer built around the player's ability to alter gravity, my favorite game of his remains Don't Look Back. In retelling the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, this free flash game combines a subtle story with a unique platforming gimmick in order to create a deeply impactful experience. 

Because the rest of this article contains heavy spoilers, I advise you to play the game before continuing to read. 



At first, Don't Look Back appears to be a simple revenge fantasy. After introducing the protagonist as a man in mourning, the player grabs a pistol and heads to the underworld to avenge the death of his wife. From here Don't Look Back progresses in a fairly standard way: the player fights through waves of monsters before finally reaching—and killing—Hades himself.

Then things get interesting.

Few things are sexier than having a floating ghost companion.

Once the player encounters the spirit of his wife, he cannot look at her without causing her to disintegrate into nothing. Cavanagh went to great pains in order to incoporate this feature in Don't Look Back. For example, take this screenshot to the right: it seems as though the player can easily avoid the obstacles by turning around and climbing the rope on the ledge. Doing so, however, will require him to face his wife and thus doom her to an eternity in the underworld. Platforming challenges like this arise frequently as the player makes his way back to the surface.



At this point, gameplay and title have been tied to each other in a unique fashion. The title, essentially, serves as the only instruction offered throughout the game. Don't Look Back, Cavanagh insists. When the player does, he is punished by needing to replay whatever screen he was on.

Although some find the 'title as instruction' gimmick intriguing, it is the story of Don't Look Back that establishes this game as a notch above the rest. During the game's first two phases of action-platformer and rescue mission, story takes a backseat to gameplay. In the ending, however, plot takes charge.

The only thing worse than watching your wife disintegrate is turning around and realizing she disintegrated without you noticing.

The player's wife disappears even though the player remains facing her grave. Although this ending is ambiguous, it suggests that none of what was played actually happened; that the entire game takes place inside the mind of a depressed husband. Suddenly, the title is a second type of instruction, insisting that we need to move on from our loss. After all, the protagonist of Don't Look Back is clearly trapped in a cycle of mourning: he dreams about rescuing his wife from the clutches of Hades instead of accepting her death and learning to cope.

Don't Look Back is not the most beautiful game, certainly, and at times the platforming leaves something to be desired. Still, Cavanagh's clever connections between story, title, and gameplay make this art game one worth experiencing.