Este game é um convite para parar por um momento, tomar uma excelente xícara de chá e refletir Derivado do a forma como estamos lidando utilizando a minha e sua rotina.

No matter how much I want to barge into Ivy Road’s office and demand an epilogue, pelo matter how much I want them to tell me something—anything—about how it all ends, I can’t.

Because that’s all we can do, isn’t it? We can’t control everything. We can’t control who stays and who leaves. We can’t control how people feel about us, how our stories with them end, or whether they end at all. The only thing we have power over is ourselves. That’s the lesson Wanderstop leaves us with.

For as sweet and wholesome as it may seem on the surface, this is a piping hot cup of tea that left a lasting mark when spilled.

Whether through resignation, boredom, or perhaps an inkling of acceptance, Elevada does eventually start to lean into the tea-brewing life. There's plenty to do in these long stretches of the game, each separated into seasons which bring new plants, customers, and activities. You can stay in one season as long as you'd like, but eventually your guests fall silent and have no further requests.

If you've ever worked yourself to the point of exhaustion, blamed yourself for just "not trying hard enough" when you know full well your resources are depleted, or felt like a failure for not being the best in the world at something – you might need to put some time aside for Wanderstop.

Wanderstop excels in storytelling in a way that few games do. It doesn’t just present a narrative, it makes you feel it, live it, and reflect on it. Elevada’s journey is deeply personal yet universally relatable, especially for those who have struggled with burnout, emotional dysregulation, or the crushing weight of expectations. The slow unraveling of her past and her mental state is handled with nuance. The use of open-ended narratives might frustrate some players, but Wanderstop Gameplay it serves an important purpose: reminding us that we don’t always get closure.

Do you have that little voice inside your head telling you that you need to work yourself to the bone—even though you already do—just for it to never be enough? If so, then you are Elevada.

These characters are colorful, but it’s important that they aren't just quirky for quirky’s sake, either. Each one reflects a little bit of Elevada back at her, helping to advance her own emotional journey forward, and saying goodbye as they inevitably moved on was always difficult.

The customers who visit Wanderstop are impressively diverse, and I’m not just talking about ethnicity or gender. Each visitor has their own unique design, drinking animation, and personality, all of which shine. Even the customers who are initially just as abrasive as Alta eventually stand out as quirky, complex people with their own deep and emotional reasons for having stumbled into Wanderstop.

I’m not promoting self-diagnosis, by the way. But I do appreciate that we finally have the resources to learn about these things, to put words to feelings we never knew how to articulate.

This colossal lifestyle change usually takes place within a simple opening cutscene, a quick dusting of lore before we get to the real meat of the game: growing turnips.

Players are invited to immerse themselves in its cafe management simulator where they must learn how to brew a good cup of tea using a mix of different ingredients, serve it to customers, and perform related chores such as cleaning, decorating, and gardening.

You can feel it in the pacing, in the way the game quietly, deliberately slows you down. I should have expected this from Ivy Road, the creators of The Stanley Parable, but I was still surprised by just how masterfully the game navigates these themes.