I had been waiting for this for ages: my first night dive.
Listen: doesn’t the night transform things?
What would that be like?
How would the landscape, already ever-changing, already filled with bright mysteries, be transformed yet again?
In the end, my first night dive took place during a storm.
Down, under the surface I went.
The reefs I thought I would recognise were suddenly new again, their edges picked out in cyberpunk neon.
There was a feeling, suddenly very strong, that I was at the centre of everything.
Blast it from a distance?
No: watch it.
Dave the Diverisn’t a complicated game, but it can be a very busy one.
I mean this as a compliment.
From a simple core, it builds outwards in unlikely and enchanting ways.
But that core keeps everything from becoming bewildering.
During the day you dive and fish in an ever-changing reef and look for treasures.
But also: rhythm-action, stealth, sections that play like visual novels.
There’s often a sense of added pressure to your dives.
(Pun sort of intended.)
You need decent fish to serve in the evening at the very least.
And then often a special customer will ask for a particular dish.
All of that, but that first morning dive never feels anxious.
Anything you miss now you’re able to mop up in the afternoon.
For now, it’s just speculative stuff, and wonderful with it.
Upgrades are permanent but kit like this is there for a single dive, changing its texture and possibilities.
I learned that these dives are all about risk and reward.
This is the second element of the game.
This is the fact that you aren’t preparing the fish and inventing the recipes yourself.
You’re Dave, and Dave is a diver.
How to get to everyone in time?
Which dish goes where?
What about the plates that need tidying away?
What about the wasabi that needs to be topped up or the whole thing falls apart?
I am working with a brilliant chef and letting them down.
This dread turning to euphoria is oddly accurate for catering work too.
Oh yes, and that bottomless complexity found in the diving part of the game continues here.
It goes deep, trust me.
And again, it properly feels like real restaurant work.
It pushes me to my limit and makes me lose track of time.
I find myself caring deeply about things that disappear in seconds.
What’s part of the magic of serving food?
Or rather, all that effort is transformed.
If this was all Dave the Diver was it would be brilliant enough already.
A great diving action game, and a great restaurant action and management sim.
But this is just the basis from which Dave the Diver builds outwards.
Some of the stuff I don’t want to say too much about.
But I can tell you that elsewhere there’s a wild variety of different game styles.
Dave the Diver feels like that.
Dave the Diver has that improbable Netflix Money feel.
And incredibly, it all fits together.
Stories about kindness and doing favours for other people, helping them out.
Dave the Diver accessibility options
Subtitles and ability to rebind keys.
Nothing sums this up like that moray eel, which I found on my first night dive.
One element out of a million moving pieces in a game that piles on systems and complications and opportunities.
Innocence and experience in flux.
It was such a surprising moment.
And it’s just one part of this game.
It’s just one bright and tiny fish swimming through a gigantic and improbable reef.
