Rain World is difficult in an unpredictable, disempowering way. You die often, you can’t level up, and you’re weaker than most enemies — terrifying creatures that can behave in seemingly arbitrary ways, and kill without warning.
But that’s the point.
Rain World isn’t a player-centric power fantasy, it’s a nature simulator (among other things). Its difficulty conveys the beauty — and cruelty — of the natural world. So, even the unavoidable deaths — and other ‘unfair’ aspects of the game — are artistically justified.
The player character is not the center of its universe. Enemies aren’t designed as a fair fight — for you — but as a realistic ecosystem, with towering predators and terrifying parasites. Contrary to idealized depictions in media, nature isn’t about living in harmony. There’s competition and cooperation, with millions of interconnected struggles for survival. Yes, it’s not fair, especially not for animals in your situation: alone, stranded, and lower on the food chain.
But nature doesn’t care about fairness.
Your ability to adapt to your environments can (sometimes) save you — but, with the unpredictability of said environments, this isn’t enough.
In most video games, enemies have a handful of preset moves. Rain World, however, uses procedurally generated animation — and enemy movement is governed by complex AIs that continue running when enemies are offscreen. This is why they don’t always repeat the same patterns, or spawn in the same places: they don’t exist solely to antagonize you. Like real animals, they’re seeking food and avoiding danger.
Fictional worlds centering a protagonist — with no worldbuilding outside their adventures — can be fun, but ultimately, they’re meaningless to me.
Rain World’s the opposite: it isn’t always fun, but it’s so alive with wonder and horror that I fell in love with it anyways — with being part of a complicated, dynamic universe. With not being the predestined hero of some flat storybook kingdom.
Nature is harsh and beautiful. Rain World’s design reflects that. To truly appreciate them, we mustn’t romanticize them, or demand they fit a narrow, moralistic view of reality.
Instead, we must choose to see things for what they actually are.
Into The Spine