After I finished Celeste, its composer Lena Raine became my favorite in the business. Naturally, I started following the other projects she was composing music for at the time. That is where I first became aware of Chicory: A Colorful Tale. The game has a very unique style, as it is essentially a digital coloring book. Your only tool is a paintbrush, and you can point and click to paint almost any surface. Though it was Raine that first made me aware of the game, it was the showcases of its gameplay that made eager for the full game to release. Chicory: A Colorful Tale eventually released in 2021, and I picked it up immediately. What was waiting for me was an inspiring story that gave me the courage to believe in myself and my abilities, even when overcome with self-doubt. It is a deeply relevant message that I encourage everyone to experience.
You play as a player character forced into the role of a Wielder, who is someone that passes a set of trials and is given the Brush to paint the world and maintain its color. The game starts with the current Wielder, Chicory, running away, and giving the Brush to the player character (your favorite food is the name of this character, so mine was Mint). As such, Mint is now given the responsibility of being the “new Wielder.” This was Mint’s dream: being the Wielder, painting for everyone, and getting the praise that comes with it.
Mint was giddy with joy having received the Brush, painting every surface with this newfound power, until it all sunk in. What exactly happened to previous Wielder, Chicory? Why was the protagonist chosen to get the brush? Does Mint deserve to have the brush, having not gone through any of the trials? This last question is what the whole game is about—doing the Wielder trials all while being convinced that they should not be a Wielder at all.
And so Mint and I’s journey into the Picnic Province began. Our quest was filled to the brim with fantastic gameplay sequences and a stunning background soundtrack. Yet, as I did all of the game’s many puzzles and small quests, I was consistently immersed into the imposter syndrome that Mint felt. At every turn, there were reminders that this brush wasn’t Mint’s, and they constantly doubted their own abilities as a result. Similarly, I constantly felt like I wasn’t that good at the art aspect of the game and that I was doing a poor job at painting its world. Much like Mint, I didn’t feel like I was nearly good enough with the controls and the painting to have the responsibility of painting the whole world.
The game’s side quests further added to the pressure-filled atmosphere—I had to design t-shirts, logos, and even pastries for the people of the province. It was every other Wielder’s job, so now it was mine, but I felt (and arguably was) super underqualified to have such responsibilities. No one in-game ever specifically that my art was bad, but Mint’s own pervasive self-doubt meant that they were constantly underestimating their abilities. I did, too, at the beginning, but I knew it was a matter of getting better. Thankfully, the game provided a meaningful sense of progression that made me constantly feel like I was getting better at its gameplay mechanics.
The Brush is the tool with which I completed puzzles, platforming challenges, even boss fights. They got more difficult, but I got better at wielding the Brush. This gameplay serves the story perfectly, as it presented me with a world that was the equivalent of a blank canvas. The responsibility of having to paint the entire world is a heavy one, but my confidence only grew as I progressed through the game. Various characters, such as Chicory herself, complimented Mint and I’s collective art skills throughout the game, which only furthered my confidence.
Mint’s doubts persist, though. The evil in the world comes from the Brush, after all, feeding on her insecurities as it had with previous Wielders. This ends up leading to one of my favorite moments in the game, where Mint has to fight their own insecurities in a boss fight. It’s a boss that mirrored my movements, making it tricky to have to counter myself. But I was good enough with the Brush by then to face the challenge with very little frustrations. Sure, the idea of a “mirror antagonist” may not be a new one, but the way in which it tied into the themes of Chicory: A Colorful Tale was brilliant.
The final trials came in the form of four challenges in the four corners of the world. It has puzzles, riddles, platforming, all of which forced me to utilize my mastery of the Brush as my only tool. By that point, though, I started to feel like I was worthy of the responsibility the game had placed upon me. One of these challenges was climbing a mountain, the culmination of all the platforming mechanics I had mastered. It was satisfying to get to the peak and realize that all I’d been through had paid off.
Even Mint started to gain confidence in their abilities. Chicory returns as a key character in Mint’s journey, and is able to relate to their struggles with self-doubt. Its a heartwarming parallel that furthers the game’s overall themes. The message of Chicory: A Colorful Tale is that anyone is capable of creating, regardless of their skill levels. The only thing standing in your way of creating something truly beautiful is self-belief. It is a very relevant message, especially in this era where artists are constantly inundated with questions of self-worth at the hands of artificial intelligence and corporate interests. The gameplay serves this message very well—by the end of the game, having faced all of it’s challenges, I had also grown confident in my ability to control the Brush.
Above all, Chicory: A Colorful Tale gave me the confidence to create, even outside of its gameplay mechanics. This confidence carries on even now, years later. In the moments where I lack confidence in my art, or in my writing, I think of the journeys that Mint and Chicory went on. In those moments, I think about how far I’ve come. Creating is a daily challenge, and it’s one I don’t always win, but Chicory gave me the strength and the courage to keep persisting even when the going gets tough. If you’re a creator yourself and have ever found yourself doubting your abilities, I’d highly suggest picking Chicory: A Colorful Tale up. I can only hope that it inspires you in much the same way that I was.
