Team OFK

Thematically connected to the preceding episode, the music here is just as sumptuous as the visuals. They don’t just make up the game’s soundtrack; they also set the stage for the topics of love and loneliness, failure and friendship, to shine brightly. It’s expansive and transportative, a driving force that underscores the story. You’ll sometimes even hear song lyrics in the dialogue between characters. Truly, everything in We Are OFK is a sensory delight, one that captives on first looks and hooks you in throughout its runtime.

From the summery hues to the soft backgrounds, every panel and screenshot of this game is a feast for the eyes. Sure, the character models are largely low-poly, which doesn’t give them the full capabilities of emoting with the face. But that lack of facial expressiveness is made up through body language and vocal tone. These characters act and feel like real people you might encounter in L.A. or real friends you could actually have in your circle. They’re believable, flawed individuals that send sentence fragments as texts and obsess over the shininess of a crush’s hair, all of which is a testament to the game’s candid writing.

Each character has something—mostly self-inflicted—blocking them from pursuing music as their main career. For one, it’s the side job that’s always in the way. For another, it’s the lack of motivation to finish what was started. In all instances, though, the refusal to chase their dreams stems from the crushing fear of failure, the thought that everything you do will amount to nothing and there will be no success in your chosen path. It’s a debilitating feeling explored with aplomb here. I mean, the band’s struggles both creatively and personally mirror the struggles of every artist.

After all, creating is hard. Finishing and sharing that creation with the world is even harder, and We Are OFK gets that. The game clues you into the process of assembling not just music, but art in general. It illustrates the difficulty of putting your whole self into something for all to judge. In demonstrating what it takes to make a thing, the game burrowed its way into my heart, pulling out my own fears around my choice of creative expression—writing—for me to closely examine. And much like the characters toward the game’s final episode, I realized that what I need—what creatives need—more than just confidence is a support system that reinforces positive self beliefs. The creative process can be very isolating, but We Are OFK shows it doesn’t have to be, that we can create with those who accept us for who we are and trust that we’ll be OK in the end.

Despite the fear holding him back, Luca Le Fae hopped into the booth and sang his heart out.
We’re all looking for something bigger than this life...
Screenshot: Team OFK

Because that’s the real message at the game’s conclusion. Life blows up sometimes, especially if you’re trying to make a living as a creative. Art is extremely volatile under capitalism. But through support systems that uplift us, whether that’s pushing us to do better or joining our indie pop band, we come to find out that we are o-fucking-kay.