Herdling Wordlessly Emphasizes How Community Helps You Breathe

Herdling Wordlessly Emphasizes How Community Helps You Breathe

The opening of Herdling was jarring based on the promotional material. Instead of being dropped into the middle of a forest or grassy plane full of Calicorns, the animal that the player herds, the game starts underneath a road. It reveals our protagonist to be sleeping on a tattered mattress, the vibes so cold that I presumed his red hoodie wasn’t just  a source of comfort but absolutely necessary for survival. Walking away from the makeshift bed didn’t paint a prettier picture, as I was surrounded by towering buildings that reeked of grunge and overcrowding. It felt like a city refusing better days. Despite being alone and having all the room to wander around before meeting the first Calicorn, this opening felt claustrophobic. 

Then, from the moment I removed a bucket from the first Calicorn’s head inside this city, the atmosphere became less overbearing. And it continued to lose its edge as I found another, then another, until I found myself herding three out-of-place animals through city streets as I followed signs towards the mountains. In the brief time before I exited the city, it was starting to become clear that the Calicorns were going to be more than a fluffy feast for the eyes. Outside of the fact that having a cute companion is nice, they already helped push objects too big for the small protagonist. While this mechanical choice sparked the inklings of a lesson on community, what gave me confidence that it would be a core theme throughout Herdling was the moment I exited the city. 

The contrast between the city and the beautiful green valley that surrounds it is sharp. Every direction besides the one leading back to the city stretches past the horizon. In an instant, it’s like Herdling releases both the tension in its shoulders and the deep breath it’d been holding. Now, it wanted to breathe in the mountain air that constantly foreshadowed itself via the towering snowy peaks in the distance. And it was all in service of these Calicorns I was asked to herd toward that mountainscape, creatures who were already warming themselves to me despite my concerns. 

See, on paper, Herdling is only kinda my type of game. While a brief single player experience  that promises a heartfelt soundtrack and gorgeous visuals is completely in my wheel-house, I am usually not a fan of missions where players are asked to transport NPCs. I frequently feel a similar claustrophobia during those missions as I did with the city, because escorting NPCs can feel smothering. It’s so easy for NPCs to behave in frustrating and cumbersome ways. Their physical ability to interact with the world is amusing, but can become annoying when they get themselves hurt, stuck, or just generally draw your attention away from something more interesting. So, on paper, herding an increasing amount of creatures (over 10 by credits if you so choose) through different nature biomes seemed like it might get stressful fast. Navigating them through the city streets was simple enough, but I worried the activity would lose its charm over time. 

Instead, these Calicorns became the wind under my sails both metaphorically and literally. In terms of the former, each new addition to the herd—a herd that you can thankfully navigate manually at a moment’s notice—actually made me feel more free and empowered. While a new member meant an additional responsibility in a sense, my herd actually highlighted how open Herdling felt at times despite not being an open world game. For instance, a notable design choice was the way Calicorns spread out in areas where players build a fire. Seeing them wander around leisurely was both a joy to watch and a cue to do the same, a wordless invitation to take a breath and wander around, enjoy the sights and ponder the statues with a striking resemblance to my herd. Instead of leading the herd, the herd guided me in these instances to rest and relish these slow moments. 

The more literal way Calicorns empower a player comes in the game’s stampede sequences. The stampede ability allows the player and their herd to speed through slower areas like heavy snow and thick bushes. The game does a great job of translating the change in speed, as well as using it to underscore how steep and slippery some slopes that require the extra boost can be. I’d also argue it’s where players most feel like they’re part of the herd since the protagonist can run along with them, also faster, also surrounded by wind whipping around their body. It’s in these sequences where I found myself not just leading the herd from behind, but becoming a part of it, backdropped by music that made an already magical moment feel even more so. 

By the time I rolled credits, Herdling had left me with a clear sense of its ideas around being part of a pack, even as its shepherd: growing a community doesn’t have to feel claustrophobic. And in many instances, it’s what allows you to breathe in what nature, and life at large, may have in store for you.

Wallace Truesdale is a journalist who loves games and much of what they come into contact with. He’s written for Unwinnable, Stop Caring, PopMatters, and more. When he’s not ruining himself with sweets, you can find him blogging at Exalclaw, or hanging out on Bluesky and Twitch.

 
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