Although not every part of That Dragon, Cancer works, it's a crushingly intimate game that left me thankful for the people who are still in my life, and reflective on those who are not. I'm so grateful to the Greens for sharing their experience.
That Dragon, Cancer tells a valuable story despite its uneven delivery.
An understandably personal work, That Dragon, Cancer's sentimental excesses place a minor dent in a powerful, brave game.
A very brave attempt to use video games to inspire empathy and share grief over one of the most sensitive subjects imaginable.
That Dragon, Cancer is the best of games. It reveals to us what it means to be a fellow human being finding the strength to survive terrible circumstances. It shares through words, pictures, sounds and actions. The actions give us a sense of the pain of others. They show, rather than tell. This story is unique in that it tackles the most dreaded of human experiences in the form of a video game. If you play this game, it may change you.
Heartbreaking, painful, and important.
[Note: This review contains spoilers] I've been wondering when a game would make me cry, and that changed over the weekend. A few games have made me teary eyed, but that's about it. That Dragon, Cancer not only made me weep, but I had to stop playing it a few times.
That Dragon, Cancer is a beautiful experience, if one that would have benefited considerably from having content cut to improve the flow, pacing and tone.
That Dragon, Cancer is a game that you will lose. You will not beat it. You don't win. Even This War of Mine has "winning" conditions. It is so fitting that this is a game, not a movie. From the jilting scene transitions to selective interactions, the dioramic games within the game to the increased level of abstraction and perspective changes, the mode of storytelling works. But it mostly excels at being a lesson that as much as you can "game-ify" elements of life, you will be confronted with perma-death—real death.
Like any good art That Dragon, Cancer redefines the boundaries of its genre. This is creativity unfettered, matched in weight only by the likes of The Last of Us.
A moving and incredibly poignant game, that succeeds in what it's trying to accomplish despite its many missteps. If you're into interactive narration, you should definitely give it a try.
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This is a brave, important experience, and one that feels like a form of therapy for the creators. That Dragon, Cancer is truly unforgettable.
The representation of a familly dealing with the protracted illness of a child is well done, but wasn't as interesting to me as the exploration of faith that was inextricably woven into it.
Amy and Ryan Green's autobiographical work deals with their son's terminal illness, and it's one of the hardest things to which I've ever borne witness in a game
That Dragon, Cancer is an important game because it tries, but not because it succeeds.
So, from a subjective standpoint, I would argue that, despite not being a great product, That Dragon, Cancer is still very good at what it does – forging a link with its audience and delivering a love-filled, mercilessly sad, story. It's being sold as a product, it should be criticized for that, but it should also be praised for the things it does so very well.
This autobiographical game explores the death of a boy and shows the possibilities of the medium of video games
While nothing can ever bring back their little boy, I am glad the Greens had that faith. And I am glad they were brave enough to share it with us.
Like inventing and describing a new color, That Dragon, Cancer tries to describe something indescribable, and does an admirable job of it.
The Greens tell a brave story with That Dragon, Cancer. Joel Green's life may have been short, but it was an important, beautiful life that's now being shared with the world.