Discover
I remember the first time I loaded up Discover, my diving suit humming to life as the virtual ocean stretched out before me. The initial promise was intoxicating - an underwater world teeming with bioluminescent wonders and ancient mysteries waiting to be unraveled. But as I spent more hours exploring these digital depths, I began noticing something peculiar about the narrative structure, or rather, the lack thereof. The game positions you as a novice diver accompanied by an AI companion, which sounds fantastic on paper, yet the execution left me floating in strangely empty narrative waters more often than I'd like to admit.
The story missions themselves are surprisingly brief, sometimes ending so abruptly that I found myself checking if my game had glitched. There was this one mission where I'd barely descended 50 meters when the completion notification popped up, and I just sat there staring at the screen, wondering if I'd missed something crucial. Other missions feel like extended tutorials, which wouldn't be so jarring if they weren't locked behind what feels like hours of aimless swimming. It creates this weird pacing issue where you're either completely free or rigidly guided, with very little middle ground. The most baffling moment came when I triggered what I thought was a diving mission only to watch a cutscene play out without any gameplay whatsoever - and I'm talking about a solid 3-minute sequence where my character just stood there watching events unfold.
What really saves the experience, at least for me, are those rare moments when Discover suddenly remembers it's supposed to be magical. I'll never forget encountering the Celestial Ray for the first time - this enormous creature spanning what must have been at least 15 meters, its body shimmering with patterns that looked like constellations. These fantastical species appear so infrequently that each discovery feels genuinely special, though I wish they weren't quite so rare. Then there's Daniel, the supposedly brash fellow diver who accompanies you occasionally. His character arc is... interesting, to say the least. He talks big but folds at the slightest pressure, and while this could have been charming, it never quite develops beyond a surface-level personality trait.
The meta-story involving the ancient relic with precisely 99 slots initially seemed promising. I remember thinking, "Okay, here's where the real narrative kicks in." But as I progressed, filling those slots started feeling less like uncovering a mystery and more like completing household chores. The artifacts are scattered so randomly throughout dives that finding them becomes more about luck than exploration. I've logged about 47 hours in the game and have only managed to fill 68 slots, many of which came from achievement objectives that felt completely disconnected from the main experience. It's a shame because the concept had potential - ancient civilizations, mysterious artifacts, the whole package - but the implementation makes it feel like busywork rather than an engaging narrative driver.
What strikes me as particularly odd is how the game seems aware of its own limitations. The AI companion often makes comments about the "vast unknowns" and "deep mysteries," yet the actual content rarely delivers on these promises. There were moments when I'd stumble upon a beautiful coral formation or a school of those glowing fish the game promotes so heavily, and I'd think, "This is it, this is what I signed up for." But these moments are islands of excellence in what often feels like an ocean of missed opportunities. The gameplay loop essentially boils down to this: explore randomly for 2-3 hours, complete a 5-minute story mission, repeat. After my seventh such cycle, I started wondering if I was playing the game wrong or if this was genuinely the intended experience.
If I'm being completely honest, I found myself enjoying Discover most when I ignored the story elements altogether and just... dove. There's a certain meditative quality to simply exploring the underwater landscapes, watching the schools of fish move in their intricate patterns, discovering hidden caves and unusual geological formations. The problem is that the game seems determined to pull you out of these peaceful moments with its half-baked narrative ambitions. I estimate that only about 15% of my playtime involved what I'd consider meaningful story content, while the remaining 85% was split between aimless exploration and checklist completion.
What ultimately keeps me coming back, despite these frustrations, are those unexpected flashes of brilliance. That one mission where you follow a trail of glowing algae to a previously undiscovered species, or the time when Daniel actually showed a moment of genuine character development before reverting to his cowardly persona. These glimpses of what could have been are both tantalizing and frustrating. I've recommended Discover to friends with the caveat that they should treat it more as a diving simulator with occasional narrative elements rather than a story-driven adventure. The developers clearly put love into creating this underwater world - I just wish they'd given us more substantial reasons to explore its narrative depths alongside its physical ones.