The core gameplay of SEASON lies in exploring the world by bicycle or on foot and taking photos and audio recordings to store in Estelle’s sketchbook. As you add more content to the book, you’ll discover each location’s history and significance. Piece by piece, page by page, you begin to understand what it means for a season to end. While most pages begin as blank templates ready to document a particular location, some contain mysteries or questions Estelle has about the world. These require you to photograph or record specific details in order to progress.

You’re free to move through the world at your own pace, and controlling the bicycle is immensely satisfying. Using the PlayStation 5 controller’s adaptive triggers to pedal, you feel every hill, slope and tussock, and there’s a calmingly familiar sense of travel every time you mount the bike – it’s as though you’re on holiday, exploring some near-deserted island. Estelle’s need to document the world also ensures you remain present and aware of your senses. You find yourself actively listening for birdsong or the hum of electricity, and constantly scanning the roads for monuments or wildlife.

The environmental design in SEASON feels like a character in itself. The world feels lived in and discarded, a ruin that has yet to be ruined. The art direction is absolutely stunning, with characters presented in a subtle blending of comic book and Ghibli-esque styles. Colour is used in an intensely evocative way, using plenty of pastels to invoke nostalgia and make the game’s magical elements feel real. The relentlessly atmospheric soundtrack responds to the environment but never detracts from significant soundbites that you may want to record. This is a world to lose yourself in.

From the beginning, choices and their consequences are presented as an important theme in SEASON. Estelle’s protective pendant must be forged from specific memories her mother provides, which are then lost forever. You choose which memories are sacrificed, in turn shaping how her mother remembers Estelle and her late father. While the choices you make rarely impact gameplay and many have implied rather than explicit consequences, their simplicity and connection with the world and its characters lends them narrative gravitas. The choices become part of the experience: as Estelle chooses what will live on through her journal, she is also shaping the lives of those around her.

Amid its other weighty themes of loss, memory, legacy, and community, the game deals with quite a lot. At times, the serious tone of its writing and voice acting comes across as rather earnest. There are moments of levity to break things up, but they are few and far between what becomes a sort of aesthetic wash of wistfulness. When I could suspend my cynicism, I was able to connect to the characters, but often I found myself wondering if the game just really wanted me to cry. Thankfully, there is plenty of beauty and consideration in the environment to offset the lack of variety in tone, and the lighter moments (such as meeting a refreshingly cantankerous artist) do provide a nice contrast.