Webfishing and the Terror
Webfishing is a fishing game with a beautiful aesthetic. The central mechanic is straightforward because this is as much as social game as it is anything else. The fishing is a fun pretence for the hang.
So you fish, sell the fish, buy bait, upgrades and visual stuff, and chat to people (if you want). You can join public lobbies, join private ones, start your own or play entirely solo/offline. The last option allows you to get your bearings, accrue some cash and get your guy looking how you want. But the most engaging aspect of Webfishing is joining random games and having awkward small talk with people you don't know, just like the halcyon chat room days of old.
This game demonstrates that not all nostalgia is purely pleasurable. It reminded me brutally that I'm no less able to navigate aimless chat now than I was twenty years ago. What do you say to strangers when the only thing you have in common is an interest in a cute, buzzy social game where cats and dogs fish? Some lobbies have names or 18+ tags that gesture towards particular intentions, but most are just generic instances with no set agenda. This means that the ascetic anglers among us only have whatever random shit we can come up with in the moment. It's striking, so many years on, that I still struggle with this kind of social anxiety. Being embodied as a little homie sharing space with other little homies has a degree of social expectation that feels way more intense than lurking on a discord and interjecting whenever I feel I have something to add to the conversation (rare).
I'm overstating the discomfort of this somewhat. It's more the shock of being reminded of who you actually are in certain (mediated) social situations. The reality is that everyone in Webfishing is in the same boat and in my experience so far, they are generally receptive and kind. Interactions often lead to learning something new about that game (THE VOID) and as with any social interaction, people can surprise you. At worse the gang can sit in silence as each of us mechanically cast and reel our lines, revealing brief glimpses of the wide array of fare to be caught. We can keep busy as the environment cycles gently from day to night around us, the simple graphics evoking the feeling of dusk, or rainy misty mornings, or hazy summer days. Sharing this with someone else, even silently, can feel more special than doing it alone. Webfishing is a really lovely game.