I am writhing in the mud. Pathetic, sodden, and alone. You might be tempted to compare me to a lowly worm, but let’s not drag them down with me. “Oh god,” I groan—and yet, this is my world. I am comfortable here. The unmistakable squelch of my face slamming into the cold, moist, dirt has become a warm embrace. A single, thunderous note in a never-ending symphony of failure. And, crucially, a reminder that I tried.
This is the pain and pleasure of Baby Steps.
I wasn’t quite sure how I’d respond to Bennett Foddy’s latest sadomasochistic opus. I had seen people attempt and repeatedly fail to crack his previous nightmare, Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy, but there was something about the idea of Baby Steps that felt alluring in its apparent simplicity.
In short, Baby Steps is an open-world walking simulator about getting from Point A to Point B using two limbs commonly known as legs. It’s a task anybody who’s played a video game will almost certainly underestimate. The rub, you see, is that players must puppeteer Baby Steps‘ wobbly protagonist, Nate, using an unforgiving but undoubtedly precise set of controls.
Taking a single step forward requires players to carefully control each of Nate’s legs by choosing when, where, and how to raise and plant his feet. You must also manage his shifting body weight while attempting to forensically analyze a series of increasingly complex obstacles that are designed to punish even the smallest misstep.
It is brutal and relentless and impossibly compelling.
Fearing the “Manbreaker”
I’ve poured more hours than I care to admit into Baby Steps this week and have yet to reach the final hurdle—which from what I’ve seen on social media is appropriately called “The Manbreaker.” But I’ve slowly come to understand that Baby Steps is a video game about the journey, not the destination.
Watching Nate ragdoll off a mountain like a stupid great big spaghetti man still hasn’t lost its charm after so many hours, and like I said earlier, there is something strangely soothing about knowing he will eventually crash to earth and begin his journey anew. Mud-splattered. Pride in tatters. But somehow resolute.
Hello darkness my old friend…
Failure in Baby Steps is unavoidable. You can only accept it. When you do, you’ll realize there is victory in defeat.
For instance, during my first attempt to cross a rather precarious ‘bridge’ set atop a mountain path (this particular crossing consisted of a single plank of wood precariously positioned over a crashing waterfall), Nate’s foot slipped during the final stretch and I immediately toppled into the suffocating foam only to resurface at the very base of the peak.
My frustration, however, was fleeting. I spun around to see a lavish toilet cubicle set atop a small island in the middle of the lake that had cushioned my fall. What delights and sweet relief would await within? No spoilers here, but you’ll want to check that out. After exploring my newfound sanctuary, I noticed a battered staircase that seemed to lead somewhere… new. After following it for a while (and only briefly succumbing to some rather surprising obstacles), I found myself in a winding realm known as “Box Hell.”
Without getting into too much detail, it’s a space that more than lived up to its name—and one that eventually presented me with a safe route to the other side of that troublesome mountain I had been attempting to cross before my unfortunate slip. I even encountered some other farcical delights (which I won’t spoil here) along the way.
It was but a fleeting leg on a meandering journey, but it’s indicative of how Baby Steps turns the mere act of perseverance into its own reward.
Maybe you want to conquer one specific route that has repeatedly bested you. You don’t need to overcome that challenge, but you know you can. Perhaps you stumbled across a frog-shaped bucket hat that might hold the answers to some cosmic mystery. You must take it. Oho! You spotted a glittering avocado that simply MUST be devoured with all the finesse of a Hungry Hungry Hippo. Yum.
Will your unquenchable search for purpose result in fulfillment? Maybe. Baby Steps makes no guarantees, and in some instances outright tells players there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Still, onwards we bumble. Schlomp. Schlomp. Schlomp. One foot forward. Then the next. Sole and mulch forever intertwined. We believe in the trudge because we must. There is meaning in this. It matters. I know it does.